《Exiles》 Issue #1: Misery Exiles Issue #1 ¡°Misery¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. It was always so cold here. The wind drove it into you, carrying with it the salt and wet of the southern sea. It sapped the vigour from your limbs and the strength from your bones, and night after night; day after day it was always the same. Cold. Nathanius took up his bowl, carved from a worn piece of driftwood by some poor soul long before he had arrived. He had it on loan from the shore boss, Kurdak. Nathanius chuckled. The old bastard never gave anything away. The contents smelled like seawater and putrefying fish. Kurdak called it ¡°fermented.¡± Hah. Just another word for rotten. Nathanius gagged as he spooned it reluctantly it into his mouth. He hated it here. It was worse than Selapak, and he¡¯d hated Selapak as well. Everything on this blasted continent was detestable. He wanted to be back in his home by the Sea of Capran, where the breeze was warm and laden with the sweet smell of the spice and fruit of the dockside markets. Funny, at the time he¡¯d always found the odour to be obnoxious. Too fragrant. Now he longed for it like a husband-sailor for his wife across the sea. The cabin was made from driftwood. Through the holes in the walls Nathanius could see the black expanse of the ocean. There was no moon tonight, but nevertheless the dim canopy of stars revealed the shadowy outlines of the evening¡¯s looming task. At least, they revealed them to him. His eyes were only half-elven, but nonetheless they could make out detail in even the barest light. They were probably the only reason he wasn¡¯t bedded down in chains with the rest of Kurdak¡¯s slaves. Unlike them, he could see the ships in the dark. They slipped across the horizon like a line of ants along the crest of a fallen log. Soon they would dismiss their cargo and the tide would carry it to shore. A band of seaweed, hanging in the wind, drew his attention. He frowned. He could also see the banners on the beach. They were closer than before. They were more like totems than flags, made from driftwood, stone, and coral; put in place as a challenge by a monstrous race of half-fish people the natives called the Sval. They raided the coastlines, but they rarely came near the settlement. Still though, he couldn¡¯t help but notice that every night the tall posts protruding from the sea ice and rock advanced, inch by inch; yard by yard toward the shore. It couldn¡¯t be helped. He leaned down and jostled his comrades awake: Horace and Gart, a couple of humans from Gelande, and Krodyn, a Sylarean like himself. The humans weren¡¯t much at first glance, thick browed and beer-gutted, but they were cleverer than they looked. They¡¯d been sent here for brigandage, but not before they¡¯d managed to rob the crown of over twenty thousand pieces of gold and silver. They¡¯d outrun the law for more than a year, robbing tax collectors so no one would fink. Nathanius smiled. Wish he¡¯d thought of that. Horace grumbled and turned over. Krodyn heard the noise from his chair in the corner and quietly roused himself. He was an elf, and a full elf unlike Nathanius. He¡¯d been exiled for murder. He never said how many he¡¯d killed, but from the slip of his knives and the darkness in his eyes, the answer was probably bloodier than Nathanius cared to know. He got to his feet, moving like smoke drawn up a flue.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°How long?¡± he asked. Nathanius turned back to the gap in the wall. ¡°Not long.¡± Krodyn kicked Horace hard in the ribs. ¡°Come on.¡± ¡°Bugger yourself.¡± ¡°And wake up Gart.¡± The man grumbled and sat up, rubbing his eyes and massaging his jaw with a bear-sized palm. ¡°Can¡¯t. Dead.¡± Nathanius turned. ¡°What?¡± Horace put out a hand and shook his partner. He didn¡¯t move. Krodyn smiled. ¡°Anyone know where he keeps his coin?¡± Horace stood up. He looked like a barrel with legs. ¡°In the boss¡¯s bolt hole like everyone else.¡± Krodyn clucked his tongue in his cheek. ¡°Shame.¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± They gathered their things from the floor: axes and rope, and a few worn blankets. Horace scratched himself. ¡°We¡¯ll need another man.¡± Nathanius went to the door and drew the skin aside. The freezing wind stung him in the face like a whip. He squinted at the sea. Krodyn joined him and extended an arm, pointing. ¡°There.¡± ¡°I see them.¡± A cluster of shapes had detached from the ships on the horizon. They were coming in fast with the tide. There was no time to get help from the long house. Nathanius spoke over his shoulder. ¡°We¡¯ll make it work. Horace, carry the chains.¡± ¡°Both of them?¡± ¡±Yes, both.¡± The thick man growled and hefted up a pair of long iron chains from the floor. He grunted. Nathanius turned back to the door and frowned. He hated this job. ¡°Come on,¡± he said, pulling his mask up over his face. ¡°If we¡¯re lucky we¡¯ll find someone we can use.¡± II. Ellyn shivered, doing her best not to whimper, or cry which would be even worse. Her skin was rock hard, her hair was slicked and frozen, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn¡¯t stop herself shaking from the cold. At least she couldn¡¯t feel the bruises anymore, or cuts she¡¯d suffered at the hands of her captors. She wasn¡¯t meant for this. How had it gone so far? She slumped. It didn¡¯t matter now. There was no going back. Exile to Kalkonu was irreversible. She would never again enjoy the comforts of her home. She would never drink wine, or eat spiced figs, or play music by a warm, inviting sea. She would never see her parents again. And she would never sing. The wound still ached in her mouth. They¡¯d left enough for her to talk, but her voice was muddled and it stung every time she spoke. A single tear escaped onto her cheek before she caught herself and coughed to hide it. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Someone had. He was staring at her from across the crowded dinghy: tall, long-limbed, and dark-skinned. A human. His face was sharply featured and reminded her of an elf, but his build was too broad, his ears were round, and he lacked the ridge of the nose that identified her people. Long black hair fell across his brow and over his shoulders. He was the only one in the boat still tied up, boundaround his wrists and ankles with thick cords. Hequietly liftedhis hands and put a finger to his mouth. She shivered. The boat struck a rock and pitched, shipping black water over the side. Ellyn gasped in a breath and fell out of her seat to the floor. The surf was even colder than the freezing air. A fat man fell on top of her, striking his head against the rail. He went limp. It took all her strength to heave him off. The shore rose up out of the ocean like a stone monolith, covered in ice and blanketed with thick freezing clouds. Her eyes caught a glimmer of light to the west along the beach. Torches. Fires meant a settlement. They were probably her only chance. The guards on the ship had stripped her of everything, including her clothes. She had only a sack to cover her body, and lacked the knowledge to build a fire. If she couldn¡¯t find a warm place to shelter she would freeze to death within hours. She looked back at the human with the long hair. The jolt hadn¡¯t moved him at all. He shrugged and stared back. Friendly? Perhaps, but she couldn¡¯t help but wonder why he was still restrained. Looks could be deceiving. The boat was full of cold-blooded killers. None of them were restrained. What made this man so different? Was he somehow more dangerous? It didn¡¯t matter. It wouldn¡¯t do any good to ask for help, and she didn¡¯t want it anyway. Ellyn clenched her teeth, still tasting the iron tang of her own blood. If she had learned anything from the past six months, it was that she couldn¡¯t trust anyone. Her only hope was to make a mad dash to the lights on the shore. Maybe there she could fend for herself. It was the only way, now. III. The boats were coming in, but the coastline was peppered with jagged ice and rock. Most of them would founder, dumping their occupants into the freezing water. Barely half would make it to the shore. Nathanius gripped his axe and glanced at Horace and Krodyn. The three of them would be responsible for rounding up the survivors. They would take them to Misery, Kurdak¡¯s home. It was aptly named. Once there they would be sorted. The weakest would remain with Kurdak and serve as his slaves: fishing, hunting, and labouring to maintain his molehill of a settlement. The strongest would be loaded onto wagons and taken inland by Overseer Poole, the local rep from Macara. The slavers paid well for new blood. Nathanius spat on the ice. It was a stinking business, but there was no choice. He had to take part. It was that or become a slave himself. He could not go back to Selapak. He turned to Krodyn. ¡°Grab the stronger men first, and don¡¯t wound them too badly.¡± The narrow elf drew his long knives. ¡°I know the rules.¡± ¡°Horace?¡± The barrel-shaped man thumped the butt of his axe against his palm and growled. ¡°The chains are laid out, but we¡¯ll have to pick someone to drag the second line.¡± Nathanius turned back to the boats. They were close. At this distance he could see the people. He could see their faces. Cold. Freezing. Frightened. Angry. He swore to himself that this would be the last time. He swore that every time. It was a forlorn oath. Someday it would be true. Kurdak withheld the pay of his employees until they left, just in case they died. It made it hard to remember how much you¡¯d earned, but Nathanius was sure he was owed nearly a hundred pearls now. He preferred pearls. They were universal currency. Soon he would have enough to head inland and repay his debts, and then¡­who knows. Maybe he would be able to atone for all this. ¡°Get ready,¡± he said. His companions moved forward invisibly. They held no torches. The torches were positioned further away as a distraction. The prisoners would be taken completely by surprise. Most would surrender immediately. Just reaching the shore was harrowing enough. Some would fight, but they had no weapons. They would give up quickly enough once they¡¯d been bloodied. The first boat crashed on the shore. The people staggered out of the surf into the waiting arms of Horace and Krodyn. It was a lively group. A fight broke out. Nathanius grimaced and brought out his axe. This would be the last time. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #2: Another Day in Paradise Exiles Issue #2 ¡°Another Day in Paradise¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Nathanius undid the hood of his coat, damning the irony that one could overheat on a frozen beach. The round-up had gone okay, all things considered, although the weather had taken a sour turn shortly after the landfall began. Only a few boats made it. They managed to capture eighteen. It would have been twenty, but two of the larger men had resisted and run afoul of Krodyn¡¯s blades. They left them on the beach for the wolves. Now the elf patrolled the long line of captives menacingly. They trudged with resignation, captives before and now captives again, to Misery. The chains that held them left deep trenches in the snow. Horace dragged the first. Their new recruit carried the second. They¡¯d left the bindings on his hands. It wasn¡¯t often that prisoners arrived on the continent still tied, and there was usually a good reason. For this man it was strangely difficult to determine. Nathanius had a gift for reading people. It was usually simple to spot the tell-tale dispassionate stare of a serial killer, or barely repressed frenzy of a madman. This one had a smile on his face, calm and practiced. It revealed nothing, except that he had no fear. A war hero, perhaps. Or a king. No, too young for a king. There was no telling, and for the moment he had other concerns. He glanced to his left at the woman. They didn¡¯t get women often, and elvish women even less. She was worth a fortune, as much as he disdained to think along such disgraceful lines. Poole would have her packaged in silk and shipped off to his bosses in Selapak faster than you could say margin of profit. Nathanius frowned. Shame punched him in the gut. She was beautiful and he could see the spark of intellect in her eyes. She was better than the line of work for which she was destined. So far she hadn¡¯t said a word. He moved to walk beside her. ¡°It¡¯ll be alright,¡± he said. He could tell she didn¡¯t believe him. Her expression was utterly without hope. Maybe that was for the best. Krodyn sidled up to her. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s our lucky night.¡± She winced. Nathanius shoved him. Krodyn glared at him and frowned. ¡°You think she¡¯s yours?¡± ¡°She¡¯s neither of ours.¡± The thin elf laughed. ¡°So you¡¯re playing hero?¡± He turned to the woman. ¡°He can¡¯t protect you.¡± Nathanius shoved him again, this time hard. Krodyn stumbled back and fell into the snow. He rolled to his feet and drew his blades. Nathanius gripped his axe. ¡°Back off. One mark on her and Kurdak will flay you bare.¡± Krodyn growled and dusted himself off, sheathing his knives. They walked on. Misery was a shanty town, run-down and improvised, with little to distinguish it from the driftwood the slaves gathered for the fires. Its only saving grace was a huge glacial boulder that sat in the middle of the cove that sheltered it, stopping the wind. It stank of rendered tallow and pickling brine, and the only structure in the place with a proper roof, the longhouse, reeked of rotting meat and excrement. Nathanius shivered as they passed behind the rock, grateful to be out of the gale. He could only imagine how the captives felt. Misery had no walls. They didn¡¯t need them. The cold was more than enough to keep the captives in line, that and the fact that there was barely enough food on the coast to stay alive, let alone provision a journey. Those foolish enough to attempt escape either returned before the first night or froze to death a few miles from the settlement.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Kurdak kept his vigil in the longhouse. He rarely slept. He was always worried one of his bodyguards would try to kill him and take over. He kept himself awake by drinking tea made from the bark of a tree that grew on the coastal slopes, a kind of wooly pine the natives called ¡°Auk.¡± He noted a line of wagons parked outside, stretching up the trail toward the pass. Poole was already here. It looked like they¡¯d already finished loading the trade goods Kurdak planned to send inland. All but the slaves. The first task was to get the new blood into some decent coats, the one perk of their capture. You were no good to Macara if you froze. They stored the parkas in the longhouse, along with all the other supplies. Kurdak kept his hands on everything, and anything of real value he kept in locked in a hole at the back of his ¡°chamber,¡± an alcove built off the main room, concealed by a bear skin. The rest of them slept on pallets in the dirt. Kurdak was sitting atop his usual chair by the fire. It wasn¡¯t a throne. He couldn¡¯t afford a throne. Poole stood behind him, warming his hands. Kurdak slurped down his tea. He was a stocky man, thick like a tree trunk and just as hard, despite his age. He was also missing an arm at the shoulder, the result of some punishment long in the past, before he came to exile. He had to be in his fifties now. It was a miracle he was still alive. Maybe the salt air had pickled him. Still, in the end it was only a matter of time. There would be blood one day, or one night. One of the guards would slay the old brute and the camp would descend into chaos. Nathanius only hoped that by the time either happened he would be long gone. Poole turned to face them as the slaves began to shuffle in, a picture entirely different than the grizzled old man on the chair. First, he had all his limbs; also his clothes were clean, his hair was trimmed, and his beard showed only a few days¡¯ growth, just enough time to make it down from the guild post at the top of the pass. Kurdak stood. ¡°How many?¡± Nathanius drew up in front of him. ¡°Eighteen.¡± Poole raised an eyebrow. ¡°So few?¡± ¡°The wind picked up and the boats foundered. There was nothing we could do.¡± His master frowned. ¡°Fine. Get them dressed.¡± Horace and Krodyn began to distribute the coats. Nathanius paused. ¡°There¡¯s something else.¡± Kurdak growled. ¡°What?¡± He took a step aside, revealing the woman. The old man¡¯s eyes brightened. He hefted himself up from his seat. ¡°Well¡­¡± He approached, removing his glove to run his hand slowly down her arm. She kept perfectly still. Her face was stoic and her eyes were fixed on an invisible point across the room. Poole came around to stand in front of her. ¡°Have you ever been with a man?¡± he asked. Her eyes flicked to him. He stared at her, regarding her like a curator appraising a statue. ¡°Answer,¡± he said. She nodded slowly. He clucked his tongue in his cheek. ¡°Shame. Let me see your teeth.¡± She set her mouth in a line. Poole grabbed her by the hair. Nathanius¡¯ stomach turned. The slaver yanked back and used his other hand to force open her mouth. A moment later he drew back. A tear rolled down her cheek. Poole spoke over his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll take her. You can keep the others.¡± Kurdak was surprised. ¡°All of them?¡± Poole turned and drew a letter from his jacket. Nathanius¡¯ eyes fixed on it. Paper was rare on the continent. The only mill he knew of was in Selapak. No good news could come from there. ¡°All but one.¡± Kurdak chuckled. ¡°Yes, of course.¡± The slaves were in their coats now, waiting for instructions. Kurdak turned to Krodyn and Horace. ¡°Put them with the others.¡± Nathanius turned to leave. That was that. He stole a final glance at the woman, silently wishing her luck. Kurdak¡¯s hand landed on his shoulder. ¡°Not you.¡± He stopped. Horace and Krodyn turned around. Kurdak scowled at them. ¡°Get moving.¡± Nathanius turned to Kurdak. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Poole held up the paper. ¡°Your friends in Selapak sold your debt to Macara.¡± Nathanius¡¯ eyes widened, even as Kurdak¡¯s guards slowly began to circle. ¡°I can pay it,¡± he blurted out. ¡°I have a stake built up here.¡± Poole shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve already accounted for the money Kurdak has been keeping for you. It¡¯s not enough.¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not possible.¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid it is. The Jaspers have been tracking your interest. Your debt has nearly doubled in your absence.¡± He¡¯d only been in Misery for ten months. The math didn¡¯t add up. ¡°What interest?¡± ¡°Three for two, monthly.¡± ¡°That¡¯s outrageous!¡± Poole shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t make the rules. It¡¯s a shame you didn¡¯t have better luck this evening. You might have spared your life.¡± Nathanius couldn¡¯t believe his ears. He slumped to the floor. Poole went back to the fire. Waving to the guards. ¡°Take him.¡± Nathanius looked up at the woman. She regarded him silently as they took his weapons and tied his hands. She wore an expression of neither judgment nor pity. He was almost driven to laugh. Irony. What a cruel penance it was. II. They hauled him away. Ellyn kept her mouth shut. She didn¡¯t feel sorry for him. He was a slaver. He deserved whatever he had coming. The thin elf had been right. He couldn¡¯t protect her. The man in the good coat came over and sat her down by the fire. It felt good to be warm again. The comfort sickened her. He sat down. ¡°Can you cook?¡± She nodded. ¡°Play music?¡± She nodded again. ¡°That¡¯s good. It¡¯ll put you in a good home. There¡¯s no need to be scared.¡± His tone suggested he was trying to reassure her. Inwardly, she sneered at his attitude. She¡¯d been around enough nobles to be able to tell when someone was lying. He had the same look in his eye as her old master at the end. She was a product, a servant. A toy. The other man came over. ¡°What will you do with her?¡± ¡°Take her back to the Notch and then send her on to Selapak. She¡¯ll fetch a good price, even if she is damaged.¡± The gruff man sat down. ¡°Damaged?¡± Good coat nodded. ¡°They cut her tongue out and cauterized it, but there¡¯s no sign of an infection. She¡¯ll live, which is good news for us.¡± He stood up and headed for the door. The gruff man called after him. ¡°You¡¯re not staying here?¡± Good coat shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll sleep in my wagon. It¡¯s cleaner.¡± The first man growled. ¡°When do you leave?¡± ¡°Tomorrow.¡± ¡°And the woman?¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing to spoil. You can have her until dawn.¡± He left. The gruff man looked at her. The look in his eye was disgusting as he spoke. ¡°Come with me.¡± He led her to his bed. She slowed her steps as they approached. The old man sat down on the edge. ¡°Have a seat. Don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t hurt you.¡± She gritted her teeth. The man stood back up, took her by the shoulders, and set her down. He took off his coat and began to unbutton his filthy shirt. Her stomach turned. ¡°You don¡¯t talk much, do you? I can¡¯t say I blame you.¡± Her mind raced through every ill-fated encounter she¡¯d ever had at court. Around the estate, ducking authority figures with wandering hands had been practically a daily routine. Of course here, her usual finesse probably wouldn¡¯t be effective. She¡¯d have to try something drastic. She grabbed his collar and kissed him full on the mouth. His breath smelled and tasted like fish. She suppressed a gag. He smiled. ¡°Now, that¡¯s more like it!¡± He came at her. She retreated across the bed and put a hand out to stop him. He raised an eyebrow and smiled. ¡°What is it? Don¡¯t tease me young lady.¡± Here goes nothing. She made a motion like drinking wine from a glass, praying he had something tucked away stronger than water. He tilted his head. ¡°Something to drink?¡± She nodded. He smiled, showing a twisted row of blackened teeth. ¡°I have just the thing.¡± He picked up his coat and went to the back of the alcove, fumbling in the pockets. There was a little door in the wall behind the bed. He a produced a key and unlocked it. He retrieved a broad glass bottle of amber liquid from inside. The key returned to his coat. He poured the drinks and handed her a glass. ¡°Every once in a while a merchant vessel gets caught in the tide and ends up on the coast. They often carry whiskey. I keep it.¡± He sipped. Ellyn smiled and drank hers down. It burned in her mouth and throat and stung her tongue, which had not yet fully healed. Not wishing to be outdone, the gruff man finished his own and poured them each another. She swallowed it too, and so did he. She smiled as he poured the third round. This time she sipped. He didn¡¯t. ¡°Have as much as you like,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°There¡¯s more where this came from.¡± Ellyn shone her most beaming smile. Counting on it. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #3: Magic People Exiles Issue #3 ¡°Magic People¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Selapak, Beside the Lake. The full name sounded a lot different in the tongue of the barbarian peoples. They called the lake Kahut, and it was every bit as sacred as the city. Neither seemed it now. The breeze reeked of dead fish and offal. Runoff from the city had turned the beach a sickly greenish-brown. Excrement, workshop waste, ash, and blood: it all washed into the Kahut. It was a wonder the whole city didn¡¯t come down with dysentery. Valis finished his wine. He¡¯d been pleased to discover he could get wine here. The taste was bitter, probably from old must, but it would serve for the time being. With luck he wouldn¡¯t have to bear it for long. He left a pearl on the table and left. The local shops wouldn¡¯t take his money. Wrong stamp. The syndicate was the only source of legal tender in Selapak. Of course the people still bartered, or used pearls, but all major transactions were required to be done using stamped iron ingots. Through them, the syndicate could keep tabs on everything of importance. Well, almost everything. It was a twenty minute walk back to his place. He tried to range as widely as possible to get what he needed. That way, if someone came around asking questions, there wouldn¡¯t be any new regulars to report. His apartment was far in the warehouse district, where the lumber and metals from Hane and Coil came in. It was easier to barter in that area, and with all the comings and goings there was plenty of temporary lodging that was more-or-less anonymous. Of course, the true value of the apartment wasn¡¯t anonymity, it was the roof. It had a sign on it. It was thirty feet tall, built on a wooden scaffold, creaking with age and wear in the face of the subcontinent¡¯s remorseless wind and weather. The words and pictures on the surface had long since faded to a dull pallet of pale grey.He wasn¡¯t a fan of the rickety structure, but it was the only way to view his target from a distance. He called it the crow¡¯s nest, and it was aptly named. His familiar was waiting for him in the perch. He sat down and peered through the viewing glass he¡¯d placed there. ¡°Anything new?¡± The bird didn¡¯t say anything aloud. ¡°¡­¡± ¡°No, I am not excited.¡± It smirked at him. He could tell. ¡°¡­¡± ¡°I am not.¡± The building he observed was secure. It only had windows on the top floor. A tough nut to crack, but that was the syndicate. No one ever said it would be easy. His eyes were drawn by a subtle movement to the window in the top-right corner. It was the only one that ever opened. The rest remained shut at all times with the curtains drawn. A woman pulled the glass aside and sat on the sill. She leaned against the frame, idly smoking a long pipe. Valis smiled. The crow was right, not that he would ever admit it. Through the viewing glass he could see her eyes: long, dark, and sharp. Her form was slim, and quite shapely despite her unusual height. Her hair was raven black, a rare trait for an elf. It fell long in waves. ¡°¡­¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. He glanced at the crow. ¡°I am not gawking. This is surveillance.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Yes, it is whatever I say.¡± He was telling the truth¡­more or less. The leaders of the syndicate took paranoia to a clinical extreme. He¡¯d been watching their house for weeks and had yet to discover a gap in their security. The woman might prove to be his only way in. He needed to know everything about her. The crow squawked. ¡°¡­¡± He turned and glared. ¡°Will you shut up!¡± He whacked the bird. It chortled and fluttered a few paces away. ¡°Why don¡¯t you get over there and do your job?¡± ¡°¡­¡± He grumbled. The bird flew off. Valis kept his eyes on the open window. She scraped out her pipe with the butt of a long pen and went inside. He resisted the urge to activate the viewing glass¡¯s magical properties to look through the walls. It would only work so many times before its components were expended, and he couldn¡¯t afford replacements. There was only one truly certain property of magic, and it wasn¡¯t that it was mysterious or fickle. It wasn¡¯t even difficult if you had the knack for it, or the right kind of schooling. Magic was rare, but not because it was fated. The reason was far more mundane. It was just plain expensive. II. Azarelle lumbered back to her workbench. Her mother always used to tell her that she was the only woman born who could lurch gracefully. She said she had the spirit of a dancer. Polly said it was because she was tall, and that long legs were cheating. Polly was a Halfling. It had been a late night. A couple of rush orders had come through. They had paid extra. Plenty extra. If it hadn¡¯t been for that¡ªand a lot of coffee¡ªthere would have been no way the shipment would have been ready on time. She could be a team player, but there were limits. Today was her own. She insisted on at least one day a week to pursue her own projects, and the Jaspers were kind enough to oblige. It was the least they could to. They were making a bundle off her talents, to say nothing of the fringe benefits of having an in-house magic user, especially one with her pedigree. The drawings on the table were starting to blur. She had to rest. What good was a day off if she spent it passed out from exhaustion? She glanced at her bed, then again at the table. The calculations were beginning to pile up. She needed more paper, not to mention gemstones, glass, and a dozen varieties of ore; then there was the plant life, all of which had to be brought in at great cost from the druids at Tanglewood and the Howling. Money, money, money. It would take years to finish. She flopped onto the bed and put a pillow over her eyes. Could she wait years? Time takes on a new perspective when you¡¯re exiled for life. There was a knock at the door. ¡°Come!¡± A pint-sized woman scampered in. Her bright red curls and rosy cheeks were unmistakable. She hopped up onto the bed with a smile. Azarelle lifted the pillow and looked up at her. ¡°Hi, Polly.¡± The woman¡¯s face fell. She unslung a leather pack from her shoulder and tossed it heavily onto Azarelle¡¯s stomach. She grunted. Polly crossed her arms and pouted. ¡°I spend all night risking life and limb and all I get for my trouble is ¡®Hi, Polly!?¡¯¡± ¡°And twenty-two ingots.¡± The Halfling jumped on top of her, straddling her waist and grinning. ¡°You have my money?¡± Azarelle nodded and pointed to a leather bag on the table. Polly squealed and leapt off of her, scrambling to the bag which she dumped out into her palm. The ingots clinked. She squealed. Azarelle smiled. She liked Polly von Toffel. She was a ray of hard-drinking sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day, and underneath her bouncy exterior was one of the most talented sneak-thieves in the city. At least half of the progress she¡¯d made in her lab was attributable to her new friend¡¯s talents. Some things money just plain couldn¡¯t buy. She looked in the pack. The contents were packed in black cloth. ¡°Did you get them?¡± Polly nodded. ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°Where?¡± The woman looked up with a devilish smile. ¡°You don¡¯t want to know.¡± Good enough. Azarelle didn¡¯t actually care. There were plenty of powerful people living in the city by the lake, all of them dangerous, but there were certain advantages to working so closely with the Jasper brothers. It would take a lot to convince the syndicate to flip on their new favourite pet. The concoctions and devices she created for them were generating huge profits. She was a one woman factory. If any of Polly¡¯s thefts came out, she would be the last one to suffer for it. Polly, on the other hand¡­ She lifted herself out of bed and went back to the table. ¡°I wish you would be more careful.¡± Polly bagged up her ingots and jumped up onto one of the chairs. She stood on it with both feet and propped herself on her arms, examining the drawings. They were incomprehensible to her for sure. Polly was smart, but the symbols were in fabric script. You needed training to even know where to start. Polly pointed. ¡°I don¡¯t remember this part. Is it new?¡± Azarelle came over. She didn¡¯t take offence that Polly had sidestepped her concern. Her job was the only thing she knew. She didn¡¯t like to talk about the risks. ¡°It is.¡± ¡°It looks important.¡± Azarelle raised an eyebrow. ¡°What makes you say that?¡± Polly looked up at her. ¡°Well, look at this circle. All these squiggly lines go to it.¡± Azarelle smiled. ¡°And?¡± ¡°What does it do?¡± Azarelle opened the pack and gently removed the contents. Polly had done well. They were two, well made and in perfect condition. ¡°Nothing yet. This was all you could get?¡± Polly nodded. ¡°That¡¯s all there were, and you¡¯re lucky there were that many. Not much call for crystal balls, except for people like you.¡± ¡°People like me?¡± She scrunched up her lips and nodded. ¡°Magic people.¡± Azarelle chuckled. It would be enough. She¡¯d been was hoping for more in case she needed a spare, but Polly was right. It was a stroke of luck there were any to be had at all. She re-wrapped them and set them aside. ¡°Want to watch?¡± Polly smiled and hopped down from the chair. ¡°Sure!¡± ¡°Good. Go downstairs and get us some coffee.¡± She scampered off. Azarelle turned back to the table. Polly had smudged one of the lines. She took up a pen and corrected it. Magic was delicate work. It was like composing music. For every tone there was a harmony; for every point, a counterpoint. The more powerful the spell, the more complex became its melody. Together, they would strike a chord that, amplified by the reagents she planned to expend, would ripple across the weave of magic that covered the world to impose her will upon the fabric of reality¡­and teleport her off this rock. At least that was the plan. First, the spell. There were so many elements to account for: longitude, latitude, wind and rain, temperature and pressure, not to mention the peculiar concentration of magic in this part of the world. And there was something else. At every turn there seemed to be some force acting against her. The first time she¡¯d encountered it was during her first attempt to teleport back home. She¡¯d spent weeks gathering the components for the spell. It was a procedure she knew by heart. Back at the university it would have been a simple matter. The casting went perfectly. She¡¯d even felt the familiar, tell-tale sensation of electricity and movement that was the hallmark of the spell. But something went wrong. The spell backfired, violently and without explanation. The force knocked her unconscious. She¡¯d awoken hours later with a splitting headache that had taken more than a week to pass. Since then, she had devoted all her time to researching an explanation. She surveyed the table. This was the result, laid out in what had to be two-hundred square feet of paper and ink, and it wasn¡¯t finished yet. Polly came back with the coffee. She got back to work. The crow on the windowsill stood quietly and watched. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #4: Chains and Snow Exiles Issue #4 ¡°Chains and Snow¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Nathanius wrestled with his restraints, hands tied and shackled to the wall by the ankle, but it was no use. He did his best not to get frustrated. Anger wouldn¡¯t do him any good. He¡¯d seen plenty of angry people roll away in Poole¡¯s wagons. He needed a plan. He needed to think. He yanked the ropes again. He needed to get his hands free! He twisted his wrists back and forth. He¡¯d never been a particularly strong man. There was no way he was going to break the rope, but maybe if he could loosen the knots he coul¡ª He heard a chuckle across the room. Nathanius gritted his teeth. It didn¡¯t help that what¡¯s-his-name they¡¯d picked up on the beach was sitting across from him, a smug little grin on his oh-so-pretty face. He hadn¡¯t said a word. He just sat there in his corner, laughing quietly as he watched him struggle, enjoying every minute. The ropes held. He only succeeded in scratching up his wrists. The man chuckled again. Nathanius glared at him. ¡°Something funny?¡± The man nodded. ¡°You.¡± Nathanius yanked again at the ropes. ¡°I suppose you think this is poetic justice.¡± The man shrugged. ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± Nathanius slammed his hands against the wall. The wood rattled. He yanked again. The man smiled. ¡°That won¡¯t help.¡± Nathanius growled. ¡°You¡¯ve got a better idea?¡± He leaned back against the wall and looked away, nonchalant. ¡°Maybe.¡± This was nonsense. ¡°If you know a way to escape how come you haven¡¯t used it?¡± ¡°If I tell you, will you untie me?¡± Nathanius thought about it. He didn¡¯t trust him. He didn¡¯t trust anybody, but this man especially he didn¡¯t trust. After all, he was still wearing the same cords he¡¯d been tied with when he¡¯d first arrived on the beach. Nathanius regarded him quietly, thinking. ¡°Why did they leave you tied up when they cut you loose?¡± The man raised an eyebrow. ¡°Hmm?¡± ¡°When they put you in the longboat and cut you loose, why did they leave you tied up? They only do that for the most dangerous people they exile here. I¡¯d to know what you did before I agree to set you free.¡± The man leaned back and laughed. ¡°I led a rebellion.¡± Nathanius furrowed his brow. ¡°You¡¯re a revolutionary?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Other things too.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain why they left you tied up. How many people did you kill?¡± The man sighed. ¡°Too many.¡± ¡°How? In battle?¡± ¡°Also in battle.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re a soldier?¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Other things too.¡± Nathanius eyed him warily. The man smiled. ¡°You think I¡¯m frightening?¡± ¡°Should I?¡± The man nodded. ¡°Yes.¡± Nathanius couldn¡¯t tell if he was joking or not. He paused. ¡­ Who was he kidding? There was no other way. ¡°Alright, fine. Deal. How do we get out of here?¡± The man nodded and shifted his foot, pointing with his toe. ¡°That rock.¡± Nathanius turned. There was a loose stone on the ground, half-buried in the dirt. It was too smooth to cut the ropes. ¡°Kick it, hard.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll break clean. You can use the edge to cut.¡± Nathanius turned in place and started kicking. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re also a geologist.¡± The man shrugged. ¡°Other thi¡ª¡± ¡°Other things too. Yes, I heard you the first time.¡± He gave the rock final firm kick with the heel of his boot and the rock broke away, leaving a sharp edge. He rocked back onto his rear and stared at it. ¡°I¡¯ll be damned.¡± The man smiled and leaned back against the wall. ¡°See?¡± Nathanius leaned forward and began sawing the ropes back and forth across the rock. He looked over at the man now resting in the corner. ¡°What¡¯s your name, anyway?¡± The man shut his eyes. ¡°Asterious.¡± Nathanius kept sawing. ¡°And where are you from?¡± There was a long pause. Finally the man chuckled out an answer. ¡°Gondavol.¡± Nathanius shrugged. ¡°Never heard of it.¡± II. Ellyn lay awake, unmolested. She was glad the whiskey had worked. Kurdak was asleep beside her, snoring like a water buffalo. She leaned up. He¡¯d chained her to a ring on the wall. Its presence was disconcerting, and made her wonder just how many other women had come this way and gone. She had to get away from here. They would come after her for sure, but maybe she could find some supplies and hide out until they assumed that she was dead. She thought about it quietly in the dark. And then what? She didn¡¯t know how to make a fire, or navigate by the stars, or any other thing that people who live in the forest and the mountains knew how to do. Still, anything would be better than going with that man, Poole, and having to endure daily what she had almost had to suffer tonight. Death would be better. Kurdak had passed out in his clothes. Thank goodness. She crawled quietly across the bed, creeping over his sleeping form to kneel on the floor and rifle through his coat. The key was old and rusted. She took it to the ring in the wall and undid the shackle. The chain rattled to the floor. Ellyn whispered a curse and froze, staring at Kurdak. Nothing. Whew. She drew the curtain aside and looked out into the room. The guards were all asleep. There was a pile of coats in the corner. Ellyn took a breath. She¡¯d never been a burglar, but there¡¯d been occasions when she¡¯d had to creep from her master¡¯s bed back to her chambers in secret. It wouldn¡¯t have been proper to have been discovered by the lady of the house or her staff. She knew, of course, and so did they, but she¡¯d always cared far more about propriety than fidelity. At least as long as her husband¡¯s affairs remained private. That had, in the end, been where it all went wrong. It sickened Ellyn that she¡¯d passed so quickly and so precipitously from one tawdry life into another. She couldn¡¯t help but wonder what had happened to the dreams of the young girl who had learned to play the sitar on her parents¡¯ porch. It had been she who drew the attention of the vice-counsellor after all. What had become of her? The coats were wrapped up with leather cords around pairs of fur-lined trousers and shoes¡ªstandard fare for newly-arrived slaves. She grimaced and grabbed a bundle ¡­ Three bundles. She would need help, as much as she hated to admit it. There wasn¡¯t any choice. She wasn¡¯t a survivalist, but who could she trust? If Kurdak and Poole were any indication, women on the subcontinent were commodities. Even if they made it to some other place, they would turn on her in an instant. The half-elf. Presumably he knew the area, and there was that other man on the boat. She couldn¡¯t fully trust either of them, but they were basically the only people about whom she knew anything at all. She frowned. What a pitiful way to choose. She waited to get into her gear until she was outside, ducking around the crude house to get out of the wind while she slipped into her freshly-stolen clothes. It was freezing. In the dead of night even the last wisps of day warmth had long since faded, blown away by the wind coming in from the sea. Snow was beginning to fall, and when she looked up at the overcast sky she couldn¡¯t see the stars. The light of a single torch caught her attention. There was a man on top of the rock shielding the cove, keeping watch by a sputtering, windswept fire. Ellyn kept to the shadows. Her elven eyes did not require a torch. She scanned the huts in silence, searching for anything that looked like a holding area. She spotted it on the other side of the compound. She made her way quietly around. There was plenty of darkness to cling to. She chuckled inwardly. That was her life now. That was her plan. Clinging to shadows. She gripped the iron key in her hands tight and prayed. III. The ropes pulled apart. Nathanius suppressed a whoop and stood up. He stepped across the hut and¡­fell flat on his face. The chain had gone taught. ¡°Ow,¡± he mumbled. Asterious leaned forward. ¡°Come on, get my hands.¡± Nathanius righted himself and untied his new ally¡¯s bonds. ¡°Now what do we do?¡± Asterious hunkered back down. ¡°We wait.¡± ¡°Wait? What the hell are you talking about? You said you knew how to get out of here.¡± Asterious nodded. ¡°I do. We can¡¯t get out of the shackles though. They¡¯re iron. That¡¯d be silly.¡± Nathanius¡¯ face fell flat. ¡°So what¡¯s your plan?¡± ¡°I told you, we wait. They don¡¯t know our hands are untied. When they come for us we¡¯ll have the element of surprise. We can fight.¡± Nathanius was dumbfounded. ¡°That¡¯s your plan?!¡± Asterious tilted his head. ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯ll work?¡± Nathanius took a deep, forced breath, a well of frustration boiling in his chest. He made himself respond in a whisper. ¡°Of course I don¡¯t think it will work! They¡¯ll have axes! What will we have?¡± Asterious pointed. ¡°Half a rock.¡± Nathanius¡¯ knuckles cracked. ¡°And you think that¡¯s enough?¡± He nodded. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°You must not be very good at fighting.¡± Nathanius stalked back across the hut. ¡°You think you can overpower half-a-dozen slavers by yourself with half a rock?¡± Asterious shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll only have the rock at the start. After that I¡¯ll have whatever the first guy was holding.¡± Nathanius sat down, crestfallen. This was unbelievable. They were dead. Actually, no. Asterious was dead. When the action started he would stand back and watch. He didn¡¯t fancy being a slave, but it was better than getting butchered in the snow. Movement. He looked up. There was someone at the door. He could see their silhouette through the cracks. He motioned to Asterious, who turned and flipped up onto his toes in a spring-like crouch. The door opened. Asterious started to move. ¡°Wait!¡± Nathanius whispered. He stopped. Nathanius looked up. It was the woman. She looked down at him and held up a rusty iron key. His eyes went wide. She threw a pair of bundles onto the floor. Coats. ¡°Come on,¡± she whispered. ¡°I need your help.¡± He and Asterious looked at each other and nodded, neither one daring to question. The woman moved across the room, unlocked their chains, and pulled the empty shackles through the rings to the ground. Asterious picked one up. He wrapped a few links around his wrist and whipped the other end around in a circle. The muscles of his arm were like rock. The shackle on the end of the chain practically whistled through the air. Nathanius got into his clothes. ¡°You can fight with that?¡± Asterious rolled his shoulders and neck. They cracked. ¡°Better than half a rock. Grab the other one.¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t fight with a chain.¡± ¡°They don¡¯t know that. Just wave it around. It¡¯ll be scary.¡± Was this guy for real? Nathanius rolled his eyes and picked up the chain. ¡°This is ridiculous.¡± Asterious got into his clothes with a smile. They went outside. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± the woman said. She pointed at the wagon train and the trailhead beyond and started to move. Nathanius stopped her. ¡°Not yet. We¡¯ll need supplies and a sled to carry them.¡± She turned to him. ¡°Can¡¯t you forage or something?¡± ¡°Do I look like a pioneer to you?¡± She regarded him in his fur-lined clothes. ¡°Don¡¯t answer that.¡± She narrowed her eyes. Nathanius pointed. ¡°They keep the supplies in a locked shed behind the longhouse. We can get in with the key you took from Kurdak.¡± She looked across the camp. ¡°Fine.¡± They started moving. They made it halfway to the shed before the sound. It was deep and loud and echoed around the high walls of the cove, filling the air with the hollow howl of the sea wind. Nathanius¡¯ heart stopped. He turned to face the beach. Asterious looked. ¡°Did they see us?¡± Nathanius shook his head. He knew the sound of the horns. He¡¯d heard them before, far from the settlement. The Sval. The time had finally come. Alarms began to sound: shouts rose up, and pots and bells clattered to rouse Misery¡¯s ramshackle militia. There was no time left to worry about being seen. Nathanius turned to the others and shouted. ¡°Run!¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #5: Brine and Blood Exiles Issue #5 ¡°Brine and Blood¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°Look out!¡± Nathanius turned just in time to see a Sval warrior twice his height bring up a spear. He yelped and dodged to the side, scrambling away. The spear impacted in the dirt, crunching against the stony ground. A moment later a long javelin tipped with a fragment of jagged coral imbedded an inch from his head. He didn¡¯t even see where it had come from. This wasn¡¯t his kind of fight. He preferred his fights in a boxing ring, viewed from the stands. If pressed, he preferred his opponents to be smaller than he was, unarmed, outnumbered, and possibly blindfolded. The Sval were attacking in force. There were dozens of them, armed with stone and coral spears and shields made from wood and shark skin. They easily outnumbered Misery¡¯s beleaguered defenders. Asterious seemed fine with it. He closed in on the looming warrior, whirling his long chain around in a slicing arc. It smacked into the creature¡¯s shield: once, twice, three times. The fourth time he brought the weapon around he swung low. It wrapped around the foot of the Sval. He yanked and the warrior fell backwards into the snow. Asterious dashed in and grabbed the spear out of its hands. He spun it around and plunged the jagged point into the creature¡¯s abdomen. It howled a gurgling scream. Three more heard the sound and charged toward them. Ellyn hauled Nathanius to his feet and shouted. ¡°Let¡¯s move!¡± They ran, making their way back around the edge of the compound. It was chaos. Man and beast hurled themselves at each other as Kurdak and his guards fought for their lives. The fish men were dragging the wounded defenders into the sea, where a feeding frenzy of coastal reef sharks, pets of the Sval, had already begun to churn the waters red. Nathanius saw Horace stagger and fall, pierced by the spears of two huge warriors. They stepped on him and twisted their weapons before yanking them out to move on. His hot blood steamed on the ice. Nathanius looked away. If there was one constant on the cruel subcontinent, it was that nothing could be made to last; if there was a second, it was death. Misery was no exception. But they couldn¡¯t just run. It wasn¡¯t enough to run. They needed supplies; otherwise they would gain their freedom for only as much time as it took for them to freeze or starve to death. The shed was only a few dozen yards away, just beyond the edge of the buildings on the inland side of the camp. It would contain food, spare clothing, and sleds. If the defenders held out a few minutes longer, they would buy them enough time for them to load one up and run like hell. Asterious took the lead, which was fine as far as Nathanius was concerned. As it turned out the stranger from Gondavol¡ªwherever that was¡ªwasn¡¯t all talk after all, although he was crazy. He¡¯d already killed three Sval warriors with the chain. One of them he¡¯d wrapped around the neck with a whip-like motion that Nathanius couldn¡¯t replicate if he lived to be a hundred. Bracing himself against the ground, Asterious had yanked with both arms, snapping its spine, and now he had a spear on top of that. He was a killing machine, and Nathanius no longer had any trouble understanding why the guards on the boat had left his bindings in place. ¡°They¡¯re following us!¡± he called forward.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Asterious looked back. Their path had taken them between two long buildings. He kept running. They followed. The three warriors thundered after them as they rounded the corner. Asterious stopped. ¡°Here.¡± ¡°Here?¡± He wrapped the chain around his arm and hefted up his spear in both hands. ¡°Here. Get behind me and stay quiet.¡± Nathanius did as he was told, as did Ellyn. He tightened his grip on the chain in his hands. He knew he couldn¡¯t use it, but maybe he could distract them somehow. He felt Ellyn holding onto his shoulder. Her hands were trembling. He whispered back to her. ¡°It¡¯ll be alright.¡± She withdrew. ¡°I don¡¯t need your protection.¡± ¡°Then what were you doing?¡± She raised an eyebrow, a kind of comic superiority creeping across her face in a lopsided smile. ¡°I was planning on using you as a shield.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Well, fine.¡± Asterious turned back to them. ¡°Shh!¡± They shut up. The first of the Sval came running around the corner. Asterious drove into him as hard as he could. The spear broke through the monster¡¯s shield and pierced into its chest. Blue blood spurted. Asterious let go of the weapon and kicked the creature away as the second came charging in. Its spear came down in a huge downward arc, with all eight feet of the beast behind it. Asterious dodged and caught the point with a twist of chain, ensnaring the shaft. He grunted and pulled. The two of them lost their balance and rolled off into the snow. Nathanius turned to the sound of a guttural roar. The third Sval rushed toward him, shield up, spear down, and point forward. Nathanius¡¯ heart pounded in his ears. Ellyn screamed and backed away. Nathanius whirled up the chain and swung it over his head in a circle, shouting at the top of his lungs. The creature hesitated and brought up his shield, anticipating a strike. Nathanius just kept shouting and swinging the chain, glancing to the side as he watched Asterious and the other creature struggle in the dirt. He didn¡¯t know who was winning. The third Sval¡¯s spear came darting in. Nathanius jumped back, slamming into Ellyn. They both fell over backwards. The spear point missed his belly by inches. The enemy loomed over them. Nathanius threw the chain at its chest. The Sval shrugged it off and raised its spear high over its head. Nathanius¡¯ eyes widened. His life flashed before his eyes. A blossom of blue blood burst from the creature¡¯s chest, along with the stone tip of a jagged spear point. The spray struck him full in the face. He flinched and shut his eyes tight. The blood was cold and smelled like sour brine. The Sval crumpled to the ground. Asterious stood behind it. He pulled his spear from the creature. ¡°We should keep moving.¡± Nathanius wiped his face and helped Ellyn up. She took his hand grudgingly. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± ¡°You make a pretty good shield.¡± ¡°Hah.¡± Asterious smiled. He was covered in blood. ¡°I told you the chain would be scary.¡± Nathanius rolled his eyes. II. They hustled on to the shed. It was a squat, square structure with thick walls made from stone piled against driftwood to keep out the animals. The sounds of the battle still rang in their ears, not nearly as far away as they would like. They only had a few minutes before the Sval overpowered the occupants of Misery and came through the settlement. Ellyn fumbled with the key. Nathanius stood behind her. ¡°There are tools inside, and supplies. We should be able to find everything we need.¡± The door swung open. Asterious dashed in. "Hey, axes!¡± ¡°The slaves use them to cut wood for the fires.¡± Asterious picked up two, leaving the spear and the chain. ¡°Are there any swords?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°Too expensive.¡± Asterious frowned. ¡°Shame. I¡¯m a lot better with swords.¡± ¡°I¡¯d say you¡¯re good enough as you are.¡± Ellyn went in and tipped a sled onto the floor. She started piling food on it. Salted fish, dried bear and wolf meat, and blocks of seal blubber, all wrapped in oil-treated animal hides. She looked up at Asterious. ¡°Where¡¯d you learn to fight like that?¡± He helped her load. ¡°Lots of places.¡± Nathanius grabbed a rope and tied it to the sled. ¡°Did you fight in the war?¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°Which one? The ¡®Capran¡¯ one?¡± Nathanius chuckled. ¡°You know another?¡± Now it was Asterious¡¯ turn to laugh. Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s funny?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Nothing.¡± The two of them hauled the sled out the door. Nathanius strained against the rope. It was heavy, but they would need the food to get where they were going. The fort at the notch was only a short trip up the coastal slope, but once they arrived they would need valuables for trade, food and supplies to barter passage to Selapak. ¡°There aren¡¯t any tents. We¡¯ll have to build shelters along the w¡ª¡± He stopped. There was a knife at his throat. Krodyn. ¡°Going somewhere?¡± he asked. Asterious turned, gripping his weapons. Nathanius spoke over his shoulder. ¡°Where¡¯s Kurdak?¡± ¡°Dead. Where¡¯s your woman?¡± He lied. ¡°Gone. She ran when the fighting started.¡± The elf clucked his tongue in his cheek. ¡°That¡¯s a shame¡­for you. I might have let you trade her for your life.¡± He bought it. Nathanius couldn¡¯t see for sure, but Ellyn was still in the shed. It was a miracle Krodyn hadn¡¯t seen her enter. He had to keep talking. ¡°Kill me and that man is going to take you apart.¡± He bobbed his head at Asterious. Krodyn chuckled. ¡°He knows you that well, does he? Fast loyalty. I wonder how far it goes.¡± He shifted his gaze to Asterious. ¡°What do you say? Want to join up with me? The two of us could go far.¡± He didn¡¯t answer. Nathanius kept talking. ¡°You should leave. There are plenty of supplies. If we hurry we can all get out of here.¡± Krodyn growled. ¡°I don¡¯t take orders from you anymore, and I am so sick of your know-it-all bullshit.¡± His knife pressed against the skin of Nathanius¡¯ neck. The blade stung as it drew a thin line of blood. Nathanius winced. Krodyn whispered in his ear. ¡°Did I ever tell you how many people I¡¯d killed?¡± Nathanius kept still. ¡°No.¡± Krodyn leaned in close. His voice was soft and his breath hot. ¡°Only one, but I enjoyed it almost as I¡¯m going to enjoy thi¡ª¡± His words stopped, truncated by a wet, quiet thump. Nathanius froze. He waited. Something warm dripped onto his neck. He saw Asterious relax and nod. He turned around slowly. The short, carved handle of a hatchet protruded from the back of the thin elf¡¯s head. The blade was buried in his skull. His arms dropped. His two knives clattered to the ground and he slumped into the snow. Dead. Ellyn stood behind him. Her eyes were wide open. A spray of blood had spattered across her face. As the dead man fell to the ground her hands began to shake. Nathanius ran to her. ¡°Are you alright?¡± She nodded haltingly. ¡°Here, sit on the sled.¡± He motioned to Asterious. ¡°Help me. Let¡¯s get going.¡± Ellyn started to kneel, but steadied herself. ¡°No, I can walk.¡± Nathanius turned to her. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± She nodded again, forcing a gag back into her throat. Nathanius picked up Krodyn¡¯s knives and stuck them in his belt and pulled the axe out of his head. He threw it onto the sled and picked up the rope. The sounds of the battle were dying down. The Sval would be coming any second. ¡°Come on,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s get going.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #6: A Simple Request Exiles Issue #6 ¡°A Simple Request¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The dice hit the table. ¡°Three of a kind. You lose.¡± Polly¡¯s head joined her dice with a thump. She moaned as her ingots were swept away. She looked up. ¡°How about one on credit?¡± The man across from her raised an eyebrow and slowly shook his head. ¡°Polly, don¡¯t ask me for that. You know I can¡¯t do it.¡± ¡°Come on! I¡¯ve been winning all day.¡± ¡°Well, it looks like your streak is over.¡± Polly grumbled and stood up. ¡°Spoil sport.¡± ¡°Better luck next time.¡± She turned and walked on. Her boots squelched in the mud. What a cheapskate. You would think after all the money she¡¯d lost to him she¡¯d have earned a little consideration. The wind blew cold, but not cold enough to fully freeze the water in the road. It was probably the last warm day of the summer. All too soon fall and winter would settle in, and the bitter cold of the continent would reassert itself. This would be Polly¡¯s third year in exile. She didn¡¯t relish what was coming. The days were already growing shorter. Soon they would be replaced by an endless night that would last for months. Streets would freeze, fields would lie fallow, and fires would burn low. The gathering places of the valley would close their doors and shutter their windows. Everyone on the continent would hunker down, gripping their weapons and praying the food would last. Eventually loyalties would fray, and even the most generous patron would find themselves questioning the value of their lesser servants. A stout guard beat a sly thief every time. That was what happened during her first winter, and again the second. She didn¡¯t expect the Jasper brothers to behave any differently when the long dark descended once more on Selapak. In the past she¡¯d survived by stealing. There were advantages to being small of stature and fleet of foot. It was difficult to keep a Halfling out of someplace she needed to be, including your meat and grain stores. This was especially true if that Halfling was Polly von Toffel. Nonetheless, it had been a dark, cold, miserable existence: a corner of a forgotten closet, a thin blanket no one would miss, and just enough food to survive. When the sun came up the last time she swore she would never let herself be in that position again. And in point of fact, she wasn¡¯t. This time she was broke. Maybe Azarelle could help. Her new friend was full to bursting with ideas for new heists, and her work brewing potions and crafting magical knickknacks for the Jaspers meant that she always seemed to have money to spare. Polly adjusted her pack. It was full of beads: quartz, jasper, carnelian, and a dozen other varieties. Azarelle needed them for her side work. This was the third load in as many weeks. Hopefully her next order would be for something else. With all the recent thefts, the gem dealers in the merchant segment were starting to increase their security.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Thirteen ingots. That¡¯s what she would get for the bag. It was a lot of money, but she would need ten times that much to arrange lodging and to buy enough food and fuel to get through the winter. Yesterday she¡¯d been halfway there. Two hours ago she¡¯d been short by only a few measly ingots. Now she had nothing. Stupid dice. She shook it off. Whatever. It would be fine. She¡¯d gone bust plenty of times. There was always another score around the corner. Hopefully Azarelle would have another job lined up for her when she made her delivery, something more lucrative than pilfering a bag of rocks. In the meantime, maybe she had room in her closet. II. There was a knock at the door. Polly was early. ¡°Come in!¡± A human in a black tailored long coat entered. Not Polly. Azarelle straightened up at the table. ¡°Lon.¡± He bowed. ¡°Professor Singer, good afternoon. I hope I¡¯m not interrupting.¡± He was, but she shook her head no. ¡°Of course not. What can I do for you?¡± He didn¡¯t come any closer. This room was her bedchamber as well as her studio and office, and for all their moral vices the Jaspers always treated her space with respect. Lon was the second-oldest, and among his brothers he visited her the most frequently. She was beginning to think he had a crush. ¡°We¡¯ve been receiving disturbing reports from our informants in the outlying districts. Several of our operatives have gone missing, storehouses in the country have been burned, and there have been sightings of undead patrols.¡± Azarelle raised an eyebrow. ¡°Tormar?¡± He nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the assumption. We need to know if they¡¯re preparing to invade or if this is just another border skirmish.¡± He took a step forward and smiled. Azarelle regarded him. He was moderately charming. She could admit that, and handsome in a human sort of way. His skin was dark and his short hair curled in subtle waves. She tilted her head. ¡°Augury?¡± He nodded. Azarelle frowned inwardly. She hated augury. Lon seemed to detect her distaste and came slowly around the table. ¡°I realize this isn¡¯t the sort of work we contracted you for, but I was hoping you could help us.¡± ¡°You, or your brothers?¡± He shrugged, smiling. ¡°Both, I suppose. We can¡¯t ignore the threat from our neighbours, but we can¡¯t waste time preparing for an attack that may never come. Winter is only a few months away. We have to conserve our resources.¡± Azarelle went to her desk. ¡°I see your problem. You can¡¯t maintain control if you can¡¯t feed your subordinates, but if Tormar rolls in and you¡¯re not ready, you¡¯ll lose everything.¡± He nodded. Azarelle smiled. ¡°Gosh. Autocracy is tough.¡± Lon chuckled. ¡°I know you don¡¯t approve of our methods, but try to look at the big picture. No government on Kalkonu has ever survived the winter. Think of how many lives we could save, of how many people might survive who would otherwise perish in the violence and chaos of the long dark.¡± He stared into her eyes. ¡°You could help save them.¡± Azarelle paused, thinking as she stared at the papers on her desk. He had a point. The Jaspers were mobsters, but orderly corruption might indeed be better than rampant violence and chaos; besides, it wasn¡¯t as though she hadn¡¯t already been helping them stay in power. Her work had contributed substantially to their wealth, and she¡¯d taken money in exchange. There was already blood on her hands, of a sort. She¡¯d been exiled because of an accident. How ironic it was that she¡¯d had to be imprisoned to become a criminal. Lon set a thin box in front of her and went to the door. ¡°We¡¯ll supply all the materials for the spell. Just give us a list of what you need, and of course you¡¯ll be well paid for your time.¡± She picked up the box and turned to face him. ¡°And what¡¯s this?¡± He smiled. ¡°An enticement.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°From the syndicate?¡± He shook his head. ¡°From me. Consider it a token of my gratitude.¡± His glance lingered a moment before he left. Azarelle looked in the box. Well, damn. III. Polly found Azarelle in bed. She always seemed to find her there. She nudged her gently. Azarelle grumbled and rolled over. Polly nudged her again. ¡°Hey, wake up. I¡¯ve got your things.¡± Groaning, the mage straightened up and rubbed her eyes. ¡°What time is it?¡± Polly chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s the middle of the afternoon.¡± Azarelle yawned and reached for her nightstand. There was nothing there but a pen and paper. She frowned and turned to her. ¡°Did you bring me coffee?¡± Polly smiled and handed her a mug. Azarelle took a deep breath over it and smiled. ¡°Did I ever tell you I love you?¡± Polly went to the table and got her bag. ¡°All the time. Want to see your stuff?¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s all there. Your ingots are on the desk.¡± Polly went to it. There was a little pile, already counted out. She picked them up. Her eyes caught on thin box. She picked that up too. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± ¡°A present.¡± Polly looked over at her. ¡°From who?¡± ¡°Whom.¡± Her face flattened out. Azarelle smiled weakly. ¡°It¡¯s from Lon. He wants me to help him and his brothers see the future.¡± Polly¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°You can do that?¡± Azarelle nodded, face in her mug. ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡± ¡°Are you going to do it?¡± Azarelle sat back against her pillows. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Making potions for them is one thing. Helping them stay in power is something else. They might use what I discover to plan an invasion of their own. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m comfortable with that.¡± Polly went to the bed. ¡°Of their own? Is Selapak being invaded?¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°We don¡¯t know. That¡¯s what they want me to find out.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not such a bad thing to help them with. I¡¯d certainly like to know.¡± Azarelle took up the paper on the nightstand. There was a list of materials on it. ¡°That¡¯s what I keep telling myself.¡± They sat quietly before Polly finally spoke up. ¡°Was it a good present?¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°Take a look.¡± She opened the box. There was a polished silver hair pin inside: long, thin, and delicate; accented with inlaid mother of pearl and smooth slivers of onyx. Polly¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful!¡± She turned to her friend and pouted. ¡°You know, if I were three feet taller I would get presents like this.¡± Azarelle gave her a flat look. ¡°Har, har.¡± Polly headed for the table. She took up her pack, upending the stones into a jar. ¡°Do you need anything else?¡± Azarelle lurched to her feet. ¡°Not today. I have to work on this.¡± She held up the list. ¡°So you¡¯re going to do it?¡± Azarelle nodded. Polly looked up at her. ¡°Because of Lon?¡± Her friend shook her head and pointed at the table. ¡°Because of that.¡± Polly looked at the table, covered in drawings and magical script. Azarelle had been working on them for as long as they¡¯d known each other. She¡¯d never pressed her for details. She didn¡¯t want to risk upsetting their arrangement. ¡°It¡¯s really important to you, isn¡¯t it?¡± Her friend nodded. ¡°It¡¯s everything.¡± She didn¡¯t say anything after that. Polly left. She didn¡¯t pry. She shook the ingots in her purse and looked up at the sun. There was time for one more game. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #7: Listless Exiles Issue #7 ¡°Listless¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The trail from the coast was arduous. Nathanius had walked it before, once when he arrived on the subcontinent and once more when he was forced to flee from Selapak. Now he was walking it again, without the stake he swore that he would have when he returned. Leaving Misery felt like freedom, but he could not escape the knowledge that he had only exchanged one set of problems for another. He glanced over his shoulder at the others. They had no idea what they were in for. The coast was awful, but at least it was simple. Hunt for food. Fish with the tide. Gather wood for shelter and warmth. It was a cold, hard life, but at least it could be taken at face value. It would be different once they reached the interior. There would be no room for half-baked plans in the valley. It was a place where everyone¡¯s luck eventually ran out. He¡¯d learned that the hard way. He looked at Asterious. He was a double-edged sword. Nathanius was certain of that. He¡¯d never seen anyone fight as he did: brutally, skilfully, and without hesitation. A man that could fight like that was capable of anything. Yet it didn¡¯t seem so. Anyway, you work with what you have. In the end, that was all there was. There were still opportunities. A strong fighter was worth his weight in gold, and they would need gold once they got to Selapak. Nathanius paused. Come to think of it, there was at least one upside to this bizarre reversal of fortune. The slavers had purchased his marker, and for all their power and influence they were far less dangerous than the Jasper brothers. The syndicate wouldn¡¯t be happy about discharging his debt for what was surely a miniscule percentage, but at least technically he didn¡¯t owe them anymore. He heard a noise behind him. He turned to see Ellyn climbing back onto her feet. They were all starting to stumble. Their tracks left deep trenches in the snow. Asterious was dragging the sled. He put down the rope. ¡°We have to rest.¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°No, we have to press on, just a little while longer. There¡¯s no shelter on this part of the slope. If we stay we¡¯ll freeze to death.¡± Ellyn leaned on her knees. ¡°How much further?¡± Nathanius looked up the trail. ¡°Another hour. There¡¯s a holdfast. We can stay there and finish the trip tomorrow.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Ellyn nodded and forced herself to take another step, but her legs gave out again. She crumpled down into the snow. Asterious helped her up. ¡°It¡¯s alright. Rest. We¡¯ll carry you on the sled.¡± She shook her head. ¡°No. I can walk.¡± ¡°You can barely stand. It¡¯s alright.¡± She shook him off. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± She started walking, right past Nathanius without so much as a sideways glance. Asterious looked at him and shrugged. Nathanius turned and trudged after her. His foot caught on a rock and he stumbled. One more hour. He could do one more. II. There were no roads across the lands of the exiles. Who would build them? There were no governments to speak of. There were no signposts or mile markers. Who would place and maintain them? No one. There were only the holdfasts. They were rough-built, ragtag shelters, left behind by travellers and hunters that had come before. It was a lucky thing that the route to and from the coast was well-travelled. It meant they didn¡¯t have to build a shelter of their own. Poole and his caravan had even left some firewood behind. Something told Nathanius they wouldn¡¯t be needing it. The fire was going. They¡¯d lit it as soon as they arrived, even before they¡¯d pulled in the sled. They would keep it burning all night. There was no need to be sparing with the wood. They would never be back this way. For the first hour all they could do was huddle around the flame, hands outstretched, pressed against each other to capture every last precious bit of warmth. As the room began to heat up they separated, discarding their thick cloaks and resting on the hard but thawing ground. Asterious hung the coats from the ceiling to dry. ¡°How long can we stay here?¡± Nathanius shrugged. ¡°As long as we have to. We have plenty of food on the sled. Eventually the slavers will send someone to find out what happened to Poole. We¡¯ll want to be gone by then.¡± ¡°How long will that be?¡± ¡°A couple of days at least, but we shouldn¡¯t waste time. We have to conserve our supplies. We¡¯ll need them when we get to the Notch.¡± Asterious raised an eyebrow. ¡°Isn¡¯t there food there?¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°Sure, but we don¡¯t have any money. It¡¯s more than a hundred miles across barren country to Selapak. We¡¯ll need to barter for passage, and our supplies are all we have to trade. We may not have enough as it is.¡± Asterious sat down and picked up a stick. He poked the fire, thrusting with the point like a sword. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine.¡± Nathanius looked at him. ¡°You sound pretty sure.¡± Asterious nodded. ¡°I always am.¡± Nathanius laid back. ¡°I hope so. Otherwise you may have to fight.¡± Ellyn looked up. ¡°What do you mean? I thought this place was safe.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s safe enough.¡± ¡°Then why would he have to fight?¡± ¡°When I came through last time the slavers had a ring set up for pit fights. The money was pretty good.¡± Ellyn gave him an incredulous look. ¡°You fought in an arena?¡± Nathanius scoffed. ¡°Of course not. I bet on them like everyone else.¡± Asterious stood up and swung the stick around, scattering embers as he fought with the air. He looked ridiculous. ¡°Planning to bet on me?¡± Nathanius looked up at him. ¡°Only if I have to.¡± Asterious sheathed the stick. ¡°I kind of want to do it. It¡¯s been a long time since I was in an arena.¡± Nathanius grumbled. ¡°Let me guess: You were a gladiator too?¡± Asterious sat back down and smiled. ¡°Of course.¡± Nathanius laughed. ¡°And then what?¡± They turned. Ellyn sat against the wall, arms crossed, her fair visage cast a stern shadow in the firelight. Nathanius regarded her. She was like an ancient princess. All she needed was a crown, or maybe a throne. ¡°What happens once we get to Selapak?¡± Nathanius leaned up onto his elbows. ¡°We?¡± She frowned at him. ¡°Of course, we.¡± He laid back down. Fatigue was beginning to settle in. He could barely keep his eyes open. ¡°We¡¯ll need a shelter. The long dark is only a few weeks away.¡± ¡°The long dark?¡± He nodded. ¡°The dead of winter. It lasts about three months. There¡¯s no food, no sun, and no law. The predators move into the cities, and what little society there is turns on itself. Most people don¡¯t survive the night.¡± A grave silence descended. Ellyn stared at the fire. Nathanius had hoped to spare her the gory details, but she deserved to know what was coming. It was the sort of thing you had to be prepared for. If you weren¡¯t, you died. They weren¡¯t prepared. And worse, they were already running out of time. It was Asterious who finally spoke up as he stood, testing his coat. It was still wet. He grabbed a short log and put it under his head. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine.¡± Ellyn looked at him and spat out an incredulous laugh. ¡°Do you know how to say anything else?¡± He smiled to himself. ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°Well, stop. It¡¯s grating.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because.¡± ¡°I mean why shouldn¡¯t we be confident? We have the three of us. No one else can say that.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Good grief.¡± He shut his eyes. ¡°Well, I think we¡¯ll be okay. As long as we stick together.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m just supposed to trust that? Trust you? And him!?¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°He tried to sell us into slavery.¡± ¡°That was ages ago. He¡¯s learned his lesson by now.¡± ¡°It was two days!¡± Nathanius watched them both quietly, doing his best not to laugh. He understood Ellyn, but Asterious was just too much. She didn¡¯t get the joke. Asterious rolled over. ¡°It worked out fine. Besides, he¡¯s not such a bad guy.¡± ¡°And how do you know that?¡± ¡°I have a good feeling.¡± Ellyn took a breath. ¡°How you trust that?¡± Asterious yawned. ¡°Gotta trust something.¡± A moment later he was fast asleep. III. Ellyn stayed awake. This whole thing was stupid. Ellyn stared at the two men across the fire. The worst part was they were right. There was nothing left. No ambition. No higher calling. All those things were gone, and there was no way back. There was only this miserable existence, scraping a life out from the ice and snow. And what was her plan? Pal around with these two? Watch Asterious win prize fights while Nathanius ran a crooked betting book? And she would¡­what? Play music between rounds? She didn¡¯t even have a guitar. She dreamed of the seaside; of the birds and the sound of the warm tide. She dreamed of Sylarea and the Sea of Capran. She dreamed of playing music. She dreamed of singing. Nathanius sat in the dim-lit silence, tending the fire, watchful eyes on the holdfast door, listening to her cry in her sleep. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #8: Augury Exiles Issue #8 ¡°Augury¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Valis watched. The viewing glass hummed softly, melting away the walls of the Jaspers estate. It was the third day in a row that he had been driven to activate the device. The gems were beginning to look a little pale. Soon they would be drained and turn to little more than coloured glass, and that would be the end of his snooping. It was worth it. The woman was planning a spell for the Jaspers, and burning incense to prepare the site. That meant only one thing. Augury. It was an old story. Take a rich family with political power, add a powerful magic user, throw in a dash of paranoia, and sooner or later somebody would want to see the future. Valis¡¯ problem was that this magic user could probably deliver it. He¡¯d asked around. Her name was Azarelle. She was an academic from the old country. Nobody knew what she was sent up for, but it must have been big. Magicians didn¡¯t often get sentenced to exile. They tended to be wealthy, and most of the time they had political connections. There must have been an enormous public outcry. Either way, she was the Jaspers¡¯ newest prize, and she was making them a fortune, cooking up high-end sorcery and potions. It was only a matter of time before they realized her real potential. Still, augury. It was very touchy work, and it didn¡¯t take much to throw it off. The worst part was the spell would give you a premonition whether you got it right or not; it just wouldn¡¯t be accurate. It was no wonder that augury had developed a long-standing reputation for hucksterism. Valis had visited an augury chamber once, when he was still back home in Sylarea. They put them out in the desert. It made it easier to measure and control the variables. An augury on the subcontinent would be almost impossible. Almost. Things would get complicated if she succeeded. He was distracted by a squawk. ¡°¡­¡± He turned to the crow. ¡°What?¡± ¡°¡­¡± The bird was right. He still hadn¡¯t reported it. His superiors would want to know. Tormar couldn¡¯t afford a drawn out conflict any more than the Jaspers. If he failed to inform them of something that might upset their plans, there would be consequences. And then there was always the graver possibility: she might discover what was really going on. That would be even worse. ¡°¡­¡± Again true. He did have a reason for failing to report. He was curious. Her personal project was coming along. It was hard to tell what she was doing. From his vantage point on the roof, he couldn¡¯t see the table, and there wasn¡¯t much that he could glean from the snippets his so-called assistant chose to report. From the materials she¡¯d been gathering it looked like some kind of measuring device. Just what she planned to do with it he had no idea. ¡°¡­¡± ¡°I know. I know.¡± If he reported what she was up to they would send someone. They would send someone and that someone would kill her, and he would never get to satisfy his curiosity, or anything else for that matter. She was quite beautiful. If only there was some way to convince her of the danger. Perhaps she would change her plans. He watched as she left the room, heading back to her office. Her preparations were almost complete. It would be tonight. She sat at her desk. She would rest before the casting. It was funny. If the spell was successful she might not believe her eyes. She might assume that something had gone wrong and ignore everything. But his masters would never take that chance.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. They were always watching. They would know immediately if they were detected. They would insist that something be done. His only chance was to convince them that she wasn¡¯t a threat; or better yet, that she could be useful. He needed to talk to her. He went inside and scribbled out a note. It had to be brief, something that no one would suspect but that she wouldn¡¯t question. He chuckled to himself. Months of research and it all came down to this: a few words and a scrap of paper. He rolled it up and returned to the roof. The bird was waiting. ¡°You know what you¡¯re supposed to do?¡± ¡°¡­¡± The bird snatched the note up into its beak. ¡°Just drop it on the desk and get out of there. Try not to let anyone see you.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Okay. Good luck.¡± It flew off to complete its mission. Valis watched it go. War was coming. It was inevitable, but there was still some good to be done. There were still lives to be saved. If he was lucky Azarelle¡¯s would be among them. II. ¡°She¡¯s late.¡± ¡°She¡¯ll be here.¡± ¡°You told her how important this was?¡± ¡°I told her. She¡¯s been preparing all week. Give her a moment. She¡¯ll be here.¡± Lon turned away from his brothers. She¡¯d set the spell up in the middle of their dining room. There wasn¡¯t enough space in her office, or so she had explained. Lon was pretty sure she just didn¡¯t want to disrupt the private project she had going in her chambers. It was just as well. This room was more secure. It had taken five days to assemble the components she requested, and a further three for her to prepare and lay them out in an intricate pattern on the floor. He sipped his drink. Magic. It was all over his head. He¡¯d never been much of a musician, and as he understood it the two were pretty much the same. He was just glad they¡¯d found Azarelle when they did. The situation with Tormar couldn¡¯t be left alone. They were expanding again, the fifth time in as many months. The loss of a few outlying territories weren¡¯t a concern. They were only sparingly productive, and he and his brothers barely had control of them anyway. This was about Selapak. The city was everything. Azarelle was the key. His brothers didn¡¯t approve of his interest. She was an asset. It didn¡¯t pay to get close. They preferred to keep the syndicate¡¯s relationship with the professor professional. Lon wasn¡¯t sure he could. She was a rare and beautiful woman, and far smarter than he; yet he had no trouble talking to her. Maybe it was because she always seemed to be half asleep. It was hard to be intimidated by someone who answered the door in her pyjamas and survived on a diet of coffee and shortbread. He¡¯d caught her with bacon, but only twice. The door opened and she came into the room. He nodded at her and she nodded back. She was wearing the pin. ¡°You¡¯re late.¡± That was his brother, Rias, the oldest of five. The syndicate was his idea: an organization that could survive the winter. It had taken years for them to lay the foundation. Now they were in charge and it was time to see if they were strong enough. Azarelle bowed. ¡°Sorry. I had to make some last-minute adjustments.¡± Rias frowned. ¡°Problems?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Not at all. Shall we begin?¡± ¡°Please.¡± Lon went over to her and spoke into her ear. ¡°Thank you for doing this.¡± ¡°It¡¯s no problem. Just don¡¯t expect any miracles. Augury has a reputation for a reason.¡± ¡°I know. Just do your best.¡± She lifted an imperious eyebrow. ¡°Always.¡± ¡°I see you¡¯re wearing the pin.¡± A smile picked at the corner of her mouth, just barely. She tilted her head. ¡°Don¡¯t expect any miracles.¡± Hah. Lon retreated to the corner. She sat down in the middle of the floor, at the centre of the design. Lon was sure there was a pattern to it, although he hadn¡¯t asked her to explain. He¡¯d observed that one of the lines she¡¯d traced pointed to the spot on the horizon where the sun rose, and another to where it set. There was probably some significance to that. The lines were intersected by concentric rings. The components they¡¯d supplied had been placed along them at seemingly random intervals: quartz crystals, gemstones, plants, burning incense and candles. There was an incomprehensible artistry to their positioning, an inexplicable pattern, clearly evident but impossible to quantify. It was organic, like the position of leaves on a branch. It was quite a display, and not an inexpensive one. He hoped it would be worth it. Despite her attempts to qualify their expectations and forewarn his brothers, she would be in a lot of trouble if it didn¡¯t. III. Azarelle shut her eyes. This was such a bad idea. No lab, no controlled environment, a laundry list of substandard materials¡ªLon had done his best, but still¡ªand absolutely no concrete understanding of the regional field. It was going to be rough. She hadn¡¯t told them that. Actually she had, but they didn¡¯t want to hear it. Ironically, if it hadn¡¯t been for all the work she¡¯d been putting into her personal project, there would have been no hope at all. At least she had a few preliminary readings she could take into account. Still. Rough. There were still too many unknowns. Even her clothing injected an unknown element. After all, she didn¡¯t know what they were made of, or what they¡¯d been dyed with. That was the sort of thing people forgot when it came to augury. The magic reacted to everything, and controlling it was like designing the acoustics of a room. Every object resonated with its own small effect, and they added up faster than you thought. Really good augury was done in special rooms in the middle of nowhere, and in the nude. Obviously that wasn¡¯t an option here. She took a breath. Here goes. She began to whisper. The words were unintelligible to those who didn¡¯t already understand the underlying theory, mostly because they weren¡¯t really words. The concept of ¡°magic words¡± existed only in the minds of those unfamiliar with the practice. It wasn¡¯t about the words. It was about sound. There were no records of the discovery of magic, nor any accounts of its early study. All those transcripts were lost during the great cataclysm of the Iiari, when the gods were driven from the world. They say the Branch Courts of the Faylene still maintained an oral history from that period, but it had never been shared with mortals. All that mortals had left were the anecdotes and tales of the old masters. It was from them that their discipline had sprung. Anyway, sound. The governing field of magic blanketed the globe like a skein of tangled yarn. Its many threads formed a complex pattern: over the land, under the sea, and through the sky. The so-called magic words created sympathetic vibrations, plucking at the weave like fingers on harp strings. The right combination of tones would blend together, amplified in places and dampened in others by the physical reagents in use. The magic did the rest, vibrating and bending the laws of reality, time, and space. That was the practice of magic. Not so much an equation as a working theory. And of course there was the Chord. Azarelle wasn¡¯t sure she believed in it: the consciousness in the weave. It was a story told to new magicians, and written off by many as the nothing more than a symptom of the unpredictable chaos that resulted from the fact that no spell, no matter how expertly performed, was ever perfectly cast, an artefact of magical subharmonics and overactive imaginations, of no greater significance than pictures seen in clouds. Or maybe¡­it was alive. There was no evidence truly proving or disproving its existence. How like a god to be so evasive. She kept whispering and the spell began to form. She could feel it, like air and electricity on her skin. It rose up, a growing sound, inaudible to others but playing soft music in her ears. They could only hear her whispers. She kept her eyes closed, listening to the complexities of the sound. She could feel the discordant elements. Poor components. A rough casting. They made her skin crawl. It was a feeling she hoped she would never get used to. She really missed her lab. The acoustics had been great. In the end it didn¡¯t matter. Needs must when the devil drives. The Jaspers wanted a peek at the future, and a peek they aimed to get. She continued reciting the incantation, thankful in hindsight for all those hundreds of hours spent slaving away under her instructors at the academy, committing spell after spell to memory. ¡°Someday you might not have a library,¡± they had said. She wondered if this was what they¡¯d had in mind. The trilling of the weave began to build on itself, tiny vibrations merging and growing like waves moving in on a beach. She began to feel a pressure on her mind. The augury was coming. The future was beginning to bleed into her consciousness and mingle with the stimuli of the present. Real and unreal. Visible and invisible. Past and future. Soon they would be indistinguishable. Augury. It took your perspective away; it robbed you of your sense of things, and it was only after the magic had passed and you scrambled to retain and decode your tangled memory that you realized how screwed up the experience really was. She groaned inwardly even as she spoke the final words and opened her eyes. And then it all made sense. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #9: Troubled Prologue Exiles Issue #9 ¡°Troubled Prologue¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°So¡­how did it go?¡± Azarelle kept her head in her pillows and groaned. Polly stood over her and regarded her friend with a frown. She could always tell when she was bummed. ¡°That bad?¡± Azarelle nodded, face still buried. Polly sat down beside her. She¡¯d come around fishing for another job. Her losing streak at the tables was apparently still going strong. ¡°Are we going to be invaded?¡± She nodded again. Polly stood up. ¡°What!?¡± ¡°It¡¯s true. One or two months from now, right after the long dark settles in. Tormar¡¯s armies are already dead. They don¡¯t mind the cold.¡± Polly went to the window. ¡°How do you know for sure?¡± Azarelle rolled over. ¡°I saw it: an army of shadows marching through the dark.¡± ¡°How can you be sure it was here?¡± ¡°Oh, it was here.¡± ¡°How do you know?¡± ¡°I was with Lon. He would never leave the city.¡± Polly looked out over the streets and on to the horizon. It was snowing more and more lately. Bad news. It was all she was getting these days. She turned from the window. ¡°Were you fighting?¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± ¡°The dead.¡± Her friend didn¡¯t answer. Polly looked at her. She was wearing what was probably supposed to be a neutral expression. She never did have much of a poker face. Polly was good at poker. Usually. She went back to the bed, smiling.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡°Az, what were you doing with Lon?¡± Her friend sat up, hugging her pillow. She grumbled. ¡°None of your beeswax.¡± Polly¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Oh my god! You were having se¡ª¡± ¡°Shh!¡± She dropped her voice to a whisper. ¡°Was he any good?¡± Azarelle walloped her with the pillow across the face. Polly yelped and flopped over laughing. ¡°What? It¡¯s a perfectly legitimate question? Besides, I¡¯m curious.¡± ¡°Well, you sleep with him then.¡± ¡°Me!? I¡¯m like three feet tall. I¡¯d sprain something.¡± ¡°Can we drop this, please?¡± Polly exasperated a breath. ¡°Fiiine!¡± She lay back and pouted. ¡°Spoilsport.¡± The conversation lapsed. Polly found her thoughts drifting back to the coming winter. She¡¯d had plans. None of them would work now. ¡°Do we win?¡± she asked. Azarelle shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe the Jaspers will come up with something, but it didn¡¯t look good.¡± Polly frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t like zombies.¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°Me either.¡± ¡°So what do we do? Should we leave? There¡¯s still probably time to go south. We could make it to Hane, or maybe Coil. They¡¯d let you into Coil. I could be your assistant.¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°No. We have to stay, at least for a little while.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Help is coming.¡± ¡°Help?¡± She nodded. ¡°An old man. He had two others with him.¡± ¡°How are they going to help?¡± Azarelle shook her head again. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Polly grumbled in frustration. ¡°What kind of crap is this augury stuff anyway?¡± Azarelle covered her face and rubbed her eyes. ¡°A pain, that¡¯s what. But at least Lon¡¯s brothers were satisfied. That¡¯ll buy us some time.¡± ¡°To do what?¡± ¡°Get ready. When it starts we¡¯re going to need to move fast.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°And I¡¯m going to need some things.¡± Polly exasperated a breath. She couldn¡¯t resist her relief. ¡°Thank god. I was starting to feel a little short.¡± Azarelle looked at her and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Financially!¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t I pay you last week?¡± Polly hesitated. ¡°I decided to treat myself one last time before winter.¡± ¡°To what?¡± ¡°Oh, you know. This and that. So what do you need?¡± She felt bad lying to her friend. It was just that¡­well, she didn¡¯t want her to be disappointed. Azarelle grabbed a paper from her nightstand. ¡°Here¡¯s the list.¡± Polly looked it over. Her eyes trained up. ¡°This is a big list.¡± ¡°If we have to leave it might be a long time before I¡¯m in a city like this again. I need to stock up while I can.¡± Polly tut-tutted. ¡°It¡¯ll be expensive.¡± Her friend nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll get you the money. Can you do it?¡± Polly sprang up and put her hands on her hips. ¡°Of course!¡± ¡°Good. Be careful, okay?¡± Polly grinned. ¡°Never!¡± Azarelle laughed and went to the table. ¡°I¡¯ve got work. How long do you think it will be for that order?¡± Polly put the paper in her jacket. ¡°At least a week. Will that be soon enough?¡± Azarelle thought for a moment. ¡°I think so. Just try to get the rarer items first.¡± Polly headed for the door. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best. Hey, when we go, should we invite Lon?¡± ¡°Why?¡± Polly grinned. ¡°To keep you company.¡± Azarelle gave her a flat look. ¡°Goodbye, Polly.¡± She laughed and went out the door, but stopped in the corridor and turned, regarding her friend quietly. ¡°Hey, Az?¡± She looked up. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°You won¡¯t leave me behind, will you?¡± Her friend smiled. ¡°Never. I¡¯m a lousy thief, and you make really good coffee.¡± Polly relaxed. ¡°Good.¡± She left quietly. The estate was a maze, but she knew it by heart. She would swing by the kitchen and grab a bite on the way out. It would hold her over until she could get her hands on the first piece of Azarelle¡¯s order. Then she would be back on top again. Maybe the invasion was a good thing. It might put a stop to her gambling. She just couldn¡¯t resist the tables. It was something about the flick of the cards, or the way the dice tumbled. And all that money. This time would be different. No more tables. Not until she and Azarelle were safe someplace for the winter. She took the list out: more gemstones. The jewellers segment was going to go bananas, and security was already a pain. This one was going to be tough. The list went back in her pocket. Time to get to work. II. Azarelle watched Polly go. From her window she could see the street. It was muddy and full of slush from last night¡¯s snow, but it was beginning to stick through the day. In six weeks it would bury everything, according to her friend. This would be her first winter on the subcontinent. It would last for almost half the year, and for a period of months the sun wouldn¡¯t even crest the horizon. And on top of that, the invasion; for all she knew the concern this winter wouldn¡¯t just be snow in the streets. And then there was the letter. She¡¯d fallen asleep at her desk after she returned from preparing the augury. When she awoke the letter was in front of her. She¡¯d thought it was from Lon. It wasn¡¯t. The message was simple: Keep your secrets. The words were followed by the name of a restaurant in Selapak¡¯s central square, along with a time and date. Two days away, at noon. Who had sent it? It couldn¡¯t have been Lon. He would have come to talk with her in person. He had plenty of excuses these days to visit her chamber. No one would have questioned it. She read it again. It had to have been someone else, someone who knew what she¡¯d been doing. And whoever they were they¡¯d been observing her for days. Maybe longer. Maybe a lot longer. It sent a chill up her spine. She scanned the cityscape. They could be anywhere. She shut the window and drew the curtains, slowly beginning to understand the Jaspers¡¯ paranoia. Keep your secrets. There was one left. A final vision, granted in the last moments of the augury: a dark angel soaring over the city, with blazing eyes trained squarely south. The image was so powerful it had almost disrupted the spell. She hadn¡¯t even told Polly. If the images she¡¯d seen were real, it meant they were under a greater threat than the armies of Tormar. A war with their neighbour was one thing, but this¡­this was something else. It had to be a mistake. The spell wasn¡¯t perfect. Maybe her subconscious had bled through, or something from long term memory. She¡¯d been over the topic at the academy. She hoped and prayed that it was a mistake, but at the same time¡­she knew. She was very good at magic, and religion class was a long, long time ago. There wasn¡¯t much religion in the world, not since the Iiari. Some still worshiped the Faylene, others among the mages worshiped the Chord, but if there was one thing every schoolchild knew, it was this: The gods were dead. Azarelle stared at the note. Two days. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #10: The Way Forward Exiles Issue #10 ¡°The Way Forward¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go through this again. What do you say when we get to the gate¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± ¡°And when we get to the bar?¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± ¡°And when we check into the hostel?¡± ¡°Look, we get it. Alright?¡± Nathanius nodded slowly and looked up the trail. The stockade nearly filled the pass, plugging the gap with a high wall of upturned logs, carved to points. Men with cross-bows stalked the battlements; already they had stopped their pacing and turned their wary eyes on the band of travellers paused in the middle of the trail. Asterious eyed them with casual disinterest. ¡°I don¡¯t understand what the big deal is. What reason do they have to bother us?¡± Nathanius grumbled. ¡°The slavers sent a caravan down the trail less than a week ago. The only people who use this trail are slavers and hunters, and we¡¯re obviously neither of those.¡± ¡°So?¡± ¡°So? Macara owns this whole coastline. Where the hell are we supposed to have come from? We could be escaped slaves, or deserters.¡± Ellyn huffed out a laugh. ¡°We are escaped slaves.¡± Nathanius gave her a flat look. ¡°Be that as it may, we need to give them the impression that we¡¯re supposed to be here, or at least a reason to leave us alone; if we don¡¯t they¡¯ll lock us up and we¡¯ll be right back where we started.¡± ¡°So what do we do?¡± ¡°We stick to the cover story.¡± Asterious chuckled. ¡°Cartographers? You really think they¡¯ll buy that?¡± ¡°They might. When I left Selapak the syndicate was offering big bucks for maps of new routes to the coast. They¡¯re tired of paying the slavers¡¯ prices for food and trade goods. Every hunter, trapper, and displaced academic in the city was scrambling for a piece of the action. How do you think I managed to bluff my way out of the city?¡± ¡°And I¡¯m your bodyguard.¡± Nathanius shook his head and gestured to Ellyn. ¡°No, you¡¯re her bodyguard. She¡¯s the cartographer. I¡¯m her assistant.¡± Ellyn crossed her arms. ¡°You know I can barely speak, right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯ll do the talking. A mute cartographer explains why you have an assistant speaking for you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a mute, jackass.¡± Nathanius forced himself to take a breath. ¡°I know that, but your injury is a great excuse to let me do the talking, and if we can make them believe you¡¯re wealthy enough to be an employer, it¡¯ll go a long way toward keeping us out of trouble.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Ellyn looked at Asterious. ¡°I thought that was his job.¡± ¡°Better to avoid a fight than win one.¡± Asterious shrugged at that. ¡°What about our maps?¡± Nathanius turned. ¡°What?¡± ¡°If she¡¯s a cartographer shouldn¡¯t she have maps?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll have to tell them we lost them.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°A storm. A cave-in. Something.¡± Ellyn gave him a sceptical look. ¡°So we won¡¯t have any proof.¡± ¡°If we¡¯re lucky they won¡¯t ask too many questions. We¡¯ll use the extra food to pay our entry dues and move on.¡± Asterious cracked his knuckles and grinned. ¡°Then I register for the arena.¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not an arena. It¡¯s a hole in the ground people die in, and I want to get us a room at the hostel first. I¡¯ll talk to some people. If I can make some kind of deal you may not have to fight at all.¡± ¡°But what if I want to?¡± Nathanius had to laugh. This man was certifiable. There was almost no fighting it. ¡°I guess that¡¯s your business, just remember there are no doctors in a place like this, or magicians. If you go down¡­that¡¯s it.¡± Asterious shrugged again. ¡°I never go down.¡± For the briefest of moments a shadow of regret seemed to pass across his face; then it was gone. Nathanius shook it off. They headed for the gate. II. Ellyn stood in the corner. Their entry had actually gone according to plan. Now he was negotiating with the hostel owner, assuring them that they would be paid in full once their group had an opportunity to sell their wares. The man behind the desk wasn¡¯t buying it. He wanted to take a portion of the food in trade. Nathanius didn¡¯t seem happy with the price. He¡¯d been telling the truth about one thing: the illusion that she was a wealthy cartographer was paying off. It had taken the guards at the gate less than a minute to offer entry in exchange for ¡°services.¡± Only Asterious¡¯ hard looks had dissuaded them, and the admonishment that Nathanius had delivered afterward had earned them a discount on the toll. He certainly had a gift for falsehood. She wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good thing or not. How do you trust someone who lies so well? He came back. ¡°I¡¯ve bought us two days.¡± ¡°We have to sell everything before then?¡± He shook his head, led them outside, and whispered. ¡°No. We have to arrange passage and get out of here before then.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not going to pay them?¡± ¡°Not my fault. The man¡¯s prices are ridiculous. More than triple what I paid when I came through here last.¡± ¡°Why so much?¡± He shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think he was hoping I would give you up for a discount. He got spiteful when I told him it wasn¡¯t going to happen.¡± Ellyn grumbled. Prison continent or not, the recurring theme was becoming irksome. ¡°Is this always going to be a problem?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be as bad once we get to Selapak. These guys haven¡¯t seen a woman in months, let alone a woman like you.¡± Ellyn grumbled. This place was worse than the court. In her master¡¯s house every hand had been¡­busy. Asterious chuckled and threw back a lock of his hair. ¡°Ah, the curse of beauty.¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s just an observation. You¡¯re obviously not blind to it.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I have to like it.¡± Nathanius cut in. ¡°It¡¯ll get easier once we reach someplace more civilized. For now, just keep your hood up.¡± Asterious added, ¡°And don¡¯t take off your gloves.¡± ¡°My gloves?¡± He twiddled his fingers. ¡°Delicate hands are a dead giveaway. Were you a musician?¡± Ellyn didn¡¯t answer that. She only looked around. Nathanius had a point. The ¡°Notch¡± wasn¡¯t much more developed than Misery. She¡¯d never been to the frontier of Sylarea or Gelande, but she¡¯d read the stories and always imagined it looked something like this. It wasn¡¯t a town. It was barely a fort. There weren¡¯t any streets to speak of, only a broad and muddy stockyard scattered loosely with the tents and wagons of the hunters and slavers passing through. A group of buildings were clustered on one side, while at the other end of the compound, a long line of huge wagons had been pulled into a circle, drawn by teams of some kind of woolly cow. Nathanius nodded at them. ¡°That¡¯s the caravan to Selapak.¡± ¡°What are those¡­things?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°The animals?¡± She nodded. ¡°They¡¯re called yaks.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never seen one before.¡± He smiled. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised. They come from here.¡± He gestured toward the bar. ¡°I¡¯m going to see if I can find the caravan master in there. You two find a table and stay out of trouble.¡± Ellyn nodded. Nathanius turned to Asterious. ¡°No trouble?¡± The man smiled. ¡°Of course.¡± He rolled his eyes and led them on. The bar was packed. Ellyn guessed it would have to be. There didn¡¯t appear to be any other entertainment in town. They left their sled and goods outside next to a line of others. Ellyn didn¡¯t like leaving their only valuables behind, but it didn¡¯t seem to bother Nathanius, who nodded to the bouncer as they entered. The inside stank of perspiration and unwashed hunter, and there was no music. The crowd spread across the room, clustered around tables, drinking and playing at dice. A huge fireplace was built into the far wall. ¡°No cards?¡± Asterious said. He sounded disappointed. Nathanius spoke over his shoulder. ¡°Paper is at a premium on the continent, and don¡¯t even think about gambling. The games are rigged.¡± ¡°How do you know?¡± He chuckled. ¡°Mine was.¡± He pointed to an empty table in the corner. It was as far as you could get from the fireplace. ¡°Sit there. I¡¯ll get us a ride. He went to the bar. Ellyn sat down with Asterious. He craned his neck up and surveyed the crowd. ¡°What are you looking for?¡± ¡°The band stage. Last time there was¡ª¡± ¡°Last time?¡± He looked flustered for a moment. ¡°I mean you would think there would be one. Ah! You see! There it is.¡± He pointed. It was in the corner of the room by the fire. At the moment there was a table on it filled with patrons. Asterious stood up and put out a hand. ¡°Come on.¡± She pulled away. ¡°Nathanius told us to stay here.¡± ¡°I know, but you should be up there. You¡¯re a musician, right?¡± Ellyn frowned. She used to be. ¡°I don¡¯t play anymore.¡± Asterious sat back down. ¡°No, you don¡¯t sing anymore.¡± She glared at him. He leaned forward. ¡°I know it¡¯s hard¡ª¡± ¡°You couldn¡¯t possibly understand.¡± ¡°I know that, but I once knew a man who lost his right hand and a leg. It was rough for him too. You know what he did in the end?¡± She looked away tersely. ¡°What?¡± ¡°He made new ones from a knot of wood and a fencepost.¡± ¡°You¡¯re saying I need a wooden tongue.¡± Asterious laughed. ¡°I¡¯m saying if you can¡¯t sing with your voice, you¡¯ll have to sing with something else.¡± The words rocked her. It was like being shocked into a dream. How the hell did a man like this learn to say something like that? She suppressed a tear as he stood up again and put out his hand. She took it and he led her through the room. She was sure he was asking people to move but somehow it seemed like the way was parting for them. She couldn¡¯t even feel her feet moving as they crossed the space and mounted the modest stage. Asterious raised his voice. ¡°Gentlemen!¡± The patrons at the table turned to glare at the interruption. Their expressions quickly turned to surprise as Asterious went on. ¡°This young lady would like to play some music. Is there some space at your table?¡± They moved like leaves blown aside. Asterious reached down into the dusty corner and picked up a guitar. It was cheap and looked like it hadn¡¯t been used in years. He held it out and she took it. It felt good in her hands. It felt familiar. It felt like home. He turned a chair to face the room, sat her down, and whispered in her ear. ¡°Now, let¡¯s hear that voice of yours.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #11: Plans Exiles Issue #11 ¡°Plans¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°Now that¡¯s not fair. You and I both know it¡¯s worth more than that.¡± The wagon master leaned back in his chair. ¡°This is the last caravan before winter. Everyone is trying to get inland to wait it out. You want a ride to Selapak? Pay.¡± Nathanius paused. ¡°We can¡¯t afford what you¡¯re asking.¡± The man crossed his arms and smiled. ¡°Then I suggest you head back to the coast and take up ice fishing.¡± Nathanius growled. It wasn¡¯t as though he didn¡¯t understand the man¡¯s position. In his place he would be doing the same thing. Soon the pass would close and the Notch would be buried by snow and avalanche, but with Misery destroyed there was no way they would survive the long dark on the coast. They didn¡¯t have the skills. They had to get to Selapak. At least there they might be able to fight or steal their way into some kind of food and shelter. He¡¯d managed it several times, and without help. This time would be easier. They just had to get there. The crowd in the bar suddenly erupted into catcalls and applause. The noise took Nathanius by surprise. He spun around on his chair, half expecting to find Asterious in the middle of a bar fight. Instead, he saw Ellyn. She was seated at the far end of the room near the fireplace, tuning a guitar in her hands. She¡¯d pulled back her hood, revealing her face¡ªnot to mention her gender¡ªprompting the reaction from the crowd. Asterious sat close by, keeping the mob at bay. Her fingers brushed over the strings. The room quieted. Music wasn¡¯t uncommon on the continent. A quick tune and a handful of bawdry lyrics could put a man in a warm bed with a full stomach, but no one would call the amateur melodies of the beerhall bards real music. They were workaday rhymes, the bread and butter of journeyman beggars; not without their charm, but subtly lacking in altitude. Ellyn¡¯s chord washed over the room like the sunrise, a long moment of warmth that carried on and lingered in the air.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Then she began to play. It was like watching a painter. The song began delicately at first, fine lines of colour on canvas; then, as the composition began to take shape, bolder hues began to appear, filling the room with a complex harmony of strength and beauty, until every man, no matter how rough-hewn, sat mesmerized by the swirling pattern in the air. Nathanius watched, entranced like all the others, as Ellyn took the crowd in thrall. The games stopped. The dice stilled. The people scarcely ate or drank; they only stared, wide-eyed, at the forgotten spectacle of music. Nathanius forced himself out of his reverie and nudged the wagon master to attention. ¡°Sir,¡± he said. ¡°I think maybe we can work something out.¡± II. Azarelle sat. She wasn¡¯t used to meeting Lon in his office. ¡°It¡¯s a lot of money,¡± he said. She twirled a lock of hair around one finger nervously. He was right. It was a lot of money, but Polly had to be paid, and there wasn¡¯t much time. According to her friend, the closer winter came the less currency would be worth as the citizens of Selapak scrambled to gather stores of fuel and food. She hoped to use this point to carry her argument. ¡°The ingots won¡¯t hold their value forever. We may as well spend them now before the merchants stop taking them.¡± Lon sat, considering. ¡°What do you need it for anyway?¡± She was ready for this. She didn¡¯t want to reveal the nature of her work, not even to Lon. There was too much at stake. He would probably think she was crazy. ¡°I¡¯m working on a new creation for the winter, a smokeless stove that doesn¡¯t require fuel.¡± Lon nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of those. They¡¯re expensive.¡± Azarelle smiled. That was good news. It would have been hard to explain otherwise. It wasn¡¯t necessarily a lie. She was going to make the stove, and they were indeed costly. It¡¯s what made it such a good alibi. She¡¯d just fudged the numbers a bit. That¡¯s all. She answered him. ¡°They are, but I believe it can be done in the time we have left. We can¡¯t eat ingots, or burn them. It might be a good idea to invest them in something we can use.¡± Lon smiled. ¡°You mean invest them in you.¡± She smiled back. ¡°You¡¯ve been satisfied so far.¡± He smiled. ¡°Satisfied, eh?¡± Okay, so she was laying it on a little thick, but she really needed the money. Lon sat back. ¡°Very well, you can have your ingots. How soon will the stove be ready?¡± ¡°A few weeks.¡± ¡°So long?¡± ¡°I¡¯m drawing most of the enchantment from memory. There will be some trial-and-error.¡± Lon chuckled. ¡°Just don¡¯t set the house on fire.¡± Azarelle smiled as she stood up. ¡°At least we¡¯d be warm.¡± She went to the door. Lon stood up. ¡°Hey, wait a moment.¡± She turned. ¡°Yes?¡± He approached quietly, running a hand through his hair and hastily straightening his clothes. ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you something.¡± Uh oh. Azarelle tensed. She should have anticipated this. It was the first time they¡¯d spoken since he¡¯d gifted her the pin, and she¡¯d worn it to the meeting. ¡°Would you join me for lunch tomorrow afternoon?¡± And there it was. She paused. Idle flirtations were one thing, but this was different. It wasn¡¯t as though she didn¡¯t like the idea a little. It was just hard to reconcile dating someone while at the same time asking them for huge sums of money. The whole thing just seemed a little too¡­professional. She already felt guilty enough. And then there was the vision. She felt her cheeks starting to blush and forced the image from her mind, casting about for anything she could use as an excuse. ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡± His face fell. Now she really felt guilty. ¡°I just mean not lunch! I have to pick up a delivery you see, and I was supposed to meet them at noon. Maybe we could meet later?¡± He picked up and a sly grin grew across his face. ¡°Suppliers?¡± She nodded. He laughed. ¡°You knew I would give you the ingots, didn¡¯t you?¡± She smiled weakly. ¡°I¡¯d hoped.¡± He swept in and embraced her. She squawked in alarm, but he held her fast, wrapped up gently but firmly in his arms. A fleeting second passed; then the surprise began to yield, and Azarelle felt her shoulders relax and tease her with an unfamiliar feeling of content. Then it was over. He let her go and withdrew. ¡°Two days then.¡± She stammered out a reply and backed out the door, still struggling to process the encounter. What else could she have said? She went back down the corridor and headed for her office. A date. It was just a date. It was nothing. She could always cancel, or she could go and just¡­make conversation. That would work, right? They could talk about work and the weather and at the end of the night she would thank him for dinner and tell him that it would probably be best if they kept their relationship professional. She shut the door to her office and thumped her head back against the wood. Ugh. What a mess. She looked at the pile of contraband on the table, heaped up on top of her notes. At least she got her ingots, moral reservations and all. She could pay Polly and keep the goods flowing. They would use some of the money to rent an out-of-the-way place to store their stash. If it came to it, the two of them would hopefully have enough supplies to escape, and if she was very lucky she would already be finished her work. She walked across the room and flopped into bed, snatching up her notebook and a quill. She began sketching out Lon¡¯s new stove. Part of her hoped fervently that somehow he and his brothers would find a way to fight off the invasion. That would be the best of both worlds. She found herself doodling on the page. The drawing was an angel. The meeting was tomorrow. Maybe she would finally get some answers. III. The viewing glass trilled softly into silence. The walls closed and were opaque again. Valis sat back. Well, then. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #12: Nobility Exiles Issue #12 ¡°Nobility¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright July 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°It¡¯s the only way.¡± ¡°It is not the only way.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been over this. We don¡¯t have time for you to earn enough money to pay for all of us, and the caravan master only offered you a free ride. We¡¯ll have to bet what we have to make up the rest.¡± Ellyn fixed her face in a stern frown. The crowd had emptied their pockets for her when she stepped off the stage: iron ingots from Selapak, old defunct coins made from silver and copper, pearls; even pea-sized nuggets of gold and shards of semi-precious stone. She¡¯d made more in an evening than Nathanius had in months. He was beginning to think he¡¯d gotten into the wrong line of work. It had taken them twenty minutes to pick them all up from the floor. Now they sat at a table in the back. The barman had treated them to a free meal while they planned their next move. Asterious would have to fight. Ellyn wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡°What about when we get to Selapak? Couldn¡¯t the caravan master let us ride for free and work it off?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°I asked about that. He wasn¡¯t interested unless you stayed with the caravan, without us.¡± ¡°I can take care of myself.¡± He smiled. ¡°I believe you, but I trust Asterious in the pits more than I trust you on the trail alone. You¡¯ve seen him fight.¡± She didn¡¯t have an answer to that. Nathanius sipped his ale. It was awful. ¡°I still have a few friends who owe me in Selapak. They¡¯ll put us up for the long dark. After that we can do whatever we want.¡± Asterious crossed his arms. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°What if your friends can¡¯t help us? You said yourself that the city goes crazy during the dark. Ice storms and riots, civil unrest, wild and hungry animals, and gangs of murderers and thieves roaming the streets in packs looking for food and firewood. How long before it starts?¡± ¡°We have time. The long dark isn¡¯t expected to start for six weeks.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you say it takes three weeks just to get there?¡± ¡°It does.¡± ¡°So we¡¯ll have three weeks to get ready, at most, and that¡¯s assuming it doesn¡¯t fall apart before then.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have any choice.¡± ¡°Yes we do! We can all stay with the caravan.¡± ¡°No, we can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Oh, you can¡¯t work for them?¡± He shook his head slowly. ¡°No, Ellyn. They only want you.¡± The table went quiet. Asterious took a bite out of a stale roll. He chewed and spoke. ¡°Ellyn, it¡¯ll be okay.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Sure, I do. Ellyn, please let me do this. It¡¯s perfect! Nobody knows me around here. The odds will be incredible! We¡¯ll make a fortune.¡± ¡°But you could die!¡± Asterious choked down the bread and sipped his drink. He¡¯d asked for wine, as though such a thing existed on Kalkonu. They¡¯d given him some kind of stout beer instead. ¡°There¡¯s no one here I couldn¡¯t take in a fight.¡± Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°You sound pretty sure.¡± He nodded. ¡°I am.¡± Nathanius took a breath and looked at Ellyn. ¡°Then we¡¯re agreed?¡± She crossed her arms and looked away. ¡°Fine.¡± Nathanius nodded. Asterious stood up and went to find the fight organizer. The two of them sat. She stared at him, a kind of dark gravity in her sharp and glittering eyes. He couldn¡¯t figure out why she suddenly cared so much, and for Asterious of all people. He hadn¡¯t left them alone that long. ¡°Ellyn. It will be okay.¡± She set her jaw grimly as she spoke. ¡°It had better be.¡± II. Ellyn shivered. A cold wind had begun to blow through the pass. ¡°You don¡¯t even know who you¡¯re fighting?¡± Asterious stretched. ¡°They put your name in a hat, or a bucket or something. Fighters are picked at random. It makes it harder to fix the matches.¡± She frowned. ¡°But what if it¡¯s, you know¡­¡± Asterious turned and looked back at Ellyn. ¡°Know what?¡± This was infuriating. ¡°What if it¡¯s someone you can¡¯t beat?¡± He grinned. ¡°I can beat anyone.¡± She chuckled. If his bravado weren¡¯t so consistent it might have been charming. They were by the pit. Nathanius was right. It wasn¡¯t much more than a hole in the ground. Long wooden posts with sharpened tips had been driven into the sides to keep combatants from climbing out. The fights had been going on all afternoon. The stakes were red with blood and blackened with dirt and entrails. Ellyn couldn¡¯t watch. The combatants lounged in a corral nearby to wait their turn, seated at tables and on benches enjoying food and free beer provided by the fight promoter, a middle-aged Halfling. He stood on a wooden dais over the pit flanked by two huge bodyguards who, judging by their enormous physique and the green-grey pallor of their skin, had more than a few monstrous kin. Nathanius was working the bookmakers, exercising yet another example of his carefully concealed skill set: gambling. Ellyn shook her head. He was a small-time crook, and probably a career criminal. And they were trusting him. She turned back to Asterious. He wasn¡¯t drinking with the others. His eyes flicked from one man to the next in subtle movements. She could only guess at the details he was attempting to discern. ¡°Asterious,¡± she said. He looked up. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°I appreciate what you said back in the bar. It was very kind.¡± He smiled. ¡°It was good to see you enjoying yourself.¡± She thumped gently the bulging purse at her hip and smiled. ¡°It was certainly profitable.¡± He chuckled. ¡°That wasn¡¯t the point.¡± ¡°I know, and I wanted to thank you.¡± He dusted off his hands and came to the rail. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± They surveyed the gathering of fighters. ¡°So how do you like your odds?¡± Ellyn asked. Asterious looked around. ¡°Pretty well. I¡¯m younger than most of the people here, and a lot of them have old injuries, so that¡¯s something.¡± ¡°You think you¡¯ll win?¡± He nodded. ¡°I think so.¡± The crowd cheered. The promoter began to shout as a ladder was lowered into the pit and a tall human crawled out, bleeding from several slashes cut into his back. They shoved a bag of money into his chest and he staggered away. Ellyn wondered how many of the winners survived more than a few hours of glory. They didn¡¯t pull out the corpse. The promoter began to shout. ¡°Alright, you animals! Time for the next bout!¡± The crowd cheered as one of the bodyguards produced a heavy cast-iron pot. The promoter reached in, drew out a thin slat of wood, and read it. ¡°Asterious Gondavol!¡± He leaned up from the rail. ¡°They¡¯re playing my song.¡± He turned to her. ¡°Kiss for luck?¡± Ellyn raised an eyebrow. ¡°You wish.¡± He grinned. ¡°It was worth a shot. You can kiss me after.¡± She gave him a flat look. ¡°Only if you survive. And no.¡± He pouted. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯ll be a snap. Tell Nathanius to bet the farm.¡± The promoter shouted again. ¡°And his opponent will be¡­Krael?!¡± He turned, seeming to be a little surprised. The bodyguard holding the pot handed it off to his partner and stepped down from the dais, every bit of eight feet tall. The promoter turned back to the crowd. ¡°Well, it looks like you¡¯re in for a treat today, folks! One of my own bodyguards has volunteered to enter the ring. I guess he got bored protecting my short ass.¡± The crowd laughed. ¡°Place your bets!¡± Asterious started to leave. Ellyn gripped the railing. ¡°Asterious?¡± He didn¡¯t answer her. Instead he shook his head and checked his weapons: two hatchets, stolen from the shed in Misery. For the fight he¡¯d also borrowed Krodyn¡¯s long knives from Nathanius. In the dull light of the overcast sky they seemed to glow. Ellyn watched. His face seemed to harden and his eyes fix on a point far away. It was an expression she¡¯d seen only once before, during the battle with the Sval. It made her shudder. He headed for the pit. III. Asterious surveyed the sloping plane of the battlefield. It would be an uphill battle to the gates. Not an easy fight, but at least it would be the last. The last heaven. He could see the enemy circling the parapets. They were like a flock of migrating birds, twisting and curling through the air. They were all that remained. He fidgeted with the pommel of his sword and turned to his father. The man regarded him calmly. ¡°Are you afraid?¡± He forced himself to shake his head. ¡°No.¡± The king gave a slow nod and called for the horses. Asterious met his gaze. His father could always tell when he was lying. Asterious tightened the straps of his shield. It was dented and scarred, but the horse-crest of Gondavol still shone gold upon its weathered face. His father wasn¡¯t fooled. ¡°You fear death?¡± he asked. Asterious shook his head. ¡°No. I fear for the others if I should fail.¡± His father smiled as the squires approached with the horses and helped them into their seats. They left. Together they looked out over the field. ¡°You will not.¡± Asterious kept his eyes on the field. ¡°You sound so sure.¡± His father nodded. ¡°I am. For ten generations this family has protected its people with horse and sword. Now we protect the whole world. The play is the same. This is merely a grander stage.¡± Asterious nodded. His father pointed across the ascending plain. ¡°I will lead the assault. When they descend to meet us, you will take the cavalry around the left flank and threaten the citadel. They will be forced to divide their forces in the field. In the chaos, we will be given a moment to strike.¡± Asterious looked back at the cavalry. Two-hundred fresh horses, all the way from the homeland. There were no faster steeds. He turned back to his father. ¡°I will not fail.¡± His father donned his helm. The crown of Gondavol was forged in gold into the brow. The army saluted, six-thousand men; to their right and left were the assembled hosts of a dozen other nations, all gathered for this final undertaking. The king made his way to the center. Asterious spoke after him. ¡°Luck in battle, father.¡± He turned. ¡°My son, yours is a noble fear. It will bring you courage, and strength worthy of your name.¡± He kicked the horse and trotted away. He spoke his final words over his shoulder. ¡°Never show it. Neither to your enemies, nor to your friends.¡± Asterious watched him go. Krael¡¯s boots landed heavily in the dirt. His left foot landed on the forearm of a corpse, snapping it with a crunch. His half-bred features bulged and jutted like boulders on a cliff. His partner hurled down a broad axe. He held it menacingly forward, growling like a wolf. Asterious stared at him, a slim smile on his face as he brought up his small hatchets. He glanced up and out of the pit, calmly regarding Ellyn and Nathanius, now looking on in hope and fear. He winked at them. Ellyn smiled. He turned back to the beast man and laughed. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°Let me know when you¡¯re ready to surrender.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Issue #13: Daggers and Souls Exiles Issue #13 ¡°Daggers and Souls¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright September 16th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Ellyn watched. Asterious was lying face-down in the mud. He¡¯d fought hard, ducking and dancing around the huge, sweeping strikes that the half-man, half-beast hurled around the bottom of the pit. It was like watching a wild elephant try to stomp on a mouse. The beast lunged forward again and again, delivering deadly blows to the air. Asterious cut and thrust with his two hatchets, striking at Krael¡¯s legs and arms to wear his enemy down. It was the pit that did Asterious in. It was too small. He could only run for so long. Krael had struck him with the butt of his broad axe and he¡¯d crumpled into the dirt. He rolled over and stared up, slack-jawed from the blow. The hatchets slipped from his hands. If he weren¡¯t still breathing it would have been easy too mistake him for one of the other corpses that littered the bowl. The crowd howled as Krael stood over him, rolling his shoulders and hefting his axe to deliver the final blow. Ellyn glanced. Nathanius¡¯ was standing beside her, mouth set in a grim line. What was he thinking? Was he concerned for Asterious? She frowned. No, it was probably about the bet. The little promoter on the dais began to shout over the din. ¡°It looks like we¡¯re coming to the end of it folks! Look away if you¡¯ve got a weak stomach!¡± The crowd cheered. Ellyn couldn¡¯t bring herself to look away as the ogre of a man loomed over Asterious and brought up his axe. Why did she care? So he¡¯d been nice to her, once, and she wasn¡¯t entirely sure it hadn¡¯t been motivated by some financial or lascivious interest. She knew men like him. Her master¡¯s court had been full of them. He was smiling. Why? At whom? At her? At Krael? At the sky? The world? She smiled in spite of herself at the bizarre comedy of his expression. It was a joke that only he understood, and his bright face shown up from the blood and mire like a lantern on a dark night. She couldn¡¯t bring herself not to care. Krael brought the axe down. The crowd roared. Nathanius winced and looked away. Ellyn¡¯s breath left her and she leaned forward on the railing as though she¡¯d felt every bit of the blow herself. It wasn¡¯t until a moment later that her eyes came back into focus and she looked back down into the pit. The axe was stuck in the dirt an inch to the left of Asterious¡¯ head. She drew back. ¡°He missed?¡± Nathanius turned back, but before he could answer or even see what was happening, Asterious had sprung up into a crouch. In his hands flashed one of Krodyn¡¯s two slender knives. He drove upwards with both hands, one braced on the pommel of the blade, well inside the reach of the enormous half-man. The brute yelped in surprise and threw himself backwards to avoid the spearing point, but it was too late. The long steel penetrated a narrow space between his ribs, spurting blood. The man gasped for breath and coughed, spitting red foam. Asterious brought his knee crashing up and into the butt of the blade, which all but disappeared into the man¡¯s chest. The crowd gasped. Nathanius let out a long breath of relief. The railing practically creaked as he eased his grip. Ellyn kept her eyes on the two men in the pit. The half-man grunted and staggered back from Asterious, reaching in vain to his right and left for something to steady himself, but there was nothing, only the long wooden spikes that lined the pit. Finally he clutched at his chest, clawing in vain at the wound. Asterious watched him warily, the second of Krodyn¡¯s blades ready in his grip.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Nathanius put a hand on hers. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t watch this.¡± Ellyn shook her head. ¡°Asterious risked his life for this¡­and that man is going to lose his. We owe it to them both to watch. It wouldn¡¯t be happening if it weren¡¯t for us.¡± Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°How do you figure?¡± Ellyn stared down at the gasping half-man in the pit. He had sunk to his knees, one arm braced against the earth to keep his head off the ground. It was as though he were crumbling into the mud. Asterious stood a short distance away. He¡¯d dealt a lethal blow to his enemy and he knew it. There was no need to take risks by approaching. He was just¡­letting him die, and with each passing second Ellyn felt her stomach turn. ¡°We did this.¡± Nathanius ran a hand through his hair. ¡°It would have been someone else if we didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°We did it for money.¡± ¡°Everyone does it for money.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make it right.¡± Krael finally collapsed. He lay still in the dirt. Asterious waited before drawing near, not wishing to fall for his own ploy. Finally he approached and rolled him over, retrieving his knife. He held the blades aloft and the crowd went up in cheers. Asterious¡¯ face was flat, his expression as still as stone. Ellyn regarded him silently. He understood. Nathanius frowned. ¡°You¡¯re wrong. You don¡¯t know it yet, but you are. You haven¡¯t lived here. When the long dark comes and the lights start to go out you¡¯ll see. You¡¯ll realize that this place doesn¡¯t care whether you forgive yourself or not.¡± She spat. ¡°Is that what you told yourself when you worked for Kurdak?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he said as he turned too leave. ¡°It is.¡± He went to find the bookie. II. Azarelle sat alone at her table. She was early. She¡¯d spent the morning watching the caf¨¦ from an alley across the street, just to make sure it wasn¡¯t a set up. Lon had warned her shortly after he and his brothers had taken her in that a sorcerer with her skills would be a target; a dangerous target but a target nonetheless. There were plenty of people who would risk her considerable magical wrath for a chance to capture her. They¡¯d decided it would be easier to buy it. She hated this feeling. She was using Lon, but she didn¡¯t have any choice. She had to survive. She had to escape. Lon would never leave his brothers, or the city. Maybe they could fight off the invasion; maybe not. The augury hadn¡¯t revealed the outcome of the battle, but the other images did not bode well. The darkness. The fire. The gods. She couldn¡¯t take the risk. So she waited, sipping bad coffee and choking on guilt. Her mysterious lunch date would arrive soon. Maybe he could shed some light on her situation. The throng on the street passed with their eyes to the ground. It was just like Polly said. She¡¯d been to a dozen merchants across the city before coming here, and barely half of them had accepted Lon¡¯s ingots. The rest had demanded food, firewood, or alcohol in trade. It was illegal to refuse ingots, but with the long dark looming the traders were getting bold. Polly was right. The Jaspers¡¯ grip on the city was already beginning to loosen. She could turn them in. Lon would straighten them out, or one of his brothers. Probably his brothers. Lon didn¡¯t like it when things got messy. He preferred to say ¡°yes¡± to people. He gave you what you wanted. It was always one of the others who came and took what was owed. Lon didn¡¯t hurt people. He convinced them. She groaned into her cup. What a hypocritical load of crap. He was a mobster. He just put a pretty face on it. That¡¯s all. He could dress up the kind of man he was in all the expensive clothing and charming looks he wanted, but it wouldn¡¯t change anything. And that meant she was perfectly justified in doing whatever was needed to ensure her safety. She stared into her cup. Keep telling yourself that. III. Valis approached quietly. He wasn¡¯t trying to sneak up. Subtlety was simply his way. She jumped when he said hello and took a seat. They sat quietly for a long moment before anyone spoke. She sat back, maximizing the distance between them. Valis wasn¡¯t offended. It only made sense that she would be suspicious. He would have to go slowly. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to startle you.¡± She shook her head. ¡°You didn¡¯t.¡± A transparent lie. He knew it and so did she. He needed to get past this stage, and he wouldn¡¯t get many chances. He spoke calmly. ¡°You probably have some questions you want to ask before we get to talking. I¡¯d like to answer them for you if I can.¡± She gave a slow nod and took a breath. ¡°How did you get a note into my room?¡± Valis smiled. He did his best to appear cheerful. It was not a look he wore well. ¡°I had some help.¡± He whistled. His friend swooped down from the edge of the roof and landed gently on the table. He put out a hand and brushed the ebony feathers of its head. ¡°My associate here dropped it off.¡± Azarelle regarded the crow with a wary eye. Valis rubbed a curled forefinger under its beak. ¡°Come on. Say hello.¡± The bird called. Azarelle raised an eyebrow. ¡°Cute.¡± Valis turned back to her. ¡°His name is Nexus. He¡¯s been with me for a very long time.¡± ¡°A pet?¡± Valis shook his head and answered. ¡°A familiar.¡± Azarelle nodded. Valis wasn¡¯t surprised she understood. As an academic she would certainly be acquainted with the practice of taking a familiar, though few sorcerers did. Most preferred the quiet solitude and privacy of the library and the laboratory. It wasn¡¯t easy to share your head with another creature, especially one who could be so annoying. Nexus chortled. ¡°¡­¡± Valis listened. He was right. They needed to stay on task. Azarelle grabbed her cup and sipped. ¡°Have you been spying on me?¡± Valis sat back. ¡°Not specifically you.¡± ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been keeping an eye on the Jaspers. You¡¯re living with them. It was unavoidable.¡± ¡°You¡¯re saying it was a coincidence?¡± She¡¯d never believe it if he said yes. And the whole reason for approaching her was to convince her to join his side. He was willing to tell her the truth, up to a point. ¡°Not entirely. You¡¯ve been with the Jaspers for months, so you know how paranoid they are. It was easier to observe you than them. I thought if I watched you long enough I might find a way in.¡± Azarelle chuckled. ¡°You thought I was a security risk?¡± He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. The laughter was a good sign. ¡°In so many words.¡± ¡°So why the note?¡± Valis took a breath, leaning back in his seat. They¡¯d gotten to it faster than he¡¯d have liked. He answered. ¡°Because the situation has changed.¡± She paused. ¡°The augury.¡± He nodded. ¡°You work for Tormar?¡± He nodded again. She sipped her coffee. ¡°Were you hoping I wouldn¡¯t tell them about the invasion?¡± Valis shook his head. ¡°I knew you wouldn¡¯t have a choice.¡± ¡°So why are you here?¡± ¡°Because there¡¯s something else we have to talk about.¡± Nexus ruffled his feathers. ¡°¡­¡± Again, he was right. They didn¡¯t actually know how much she knew. He had only deductions, but they were conclusive. The note had instructed her to keep her secrets, but she¡¯d already told the Jaspers about the invasion. The runners were already moving to gather soldiers and weapons.She had no reason to come unlessthe augury had further revealed a second, greater secret. They would know by now. He hadn¡¯t spoken with his masters yet. This had to come first. She didn¡¯t know it, but this washer only chance. Valis leaned forward. ¡°You saw something else during the augury. Something impossible. It is for that reason that I have come.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t see anything.¡± Denial. It wouldn¡¯t help her. ¡°You know that isn¡¯t true.¡± ¡°It is.¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t, and you have to believe me when I say that lying to me won¡¯t change that. They already know what you saw.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t even know who they are?¡± ¡°Yes, you do.¡± She kept shaking her head. Her lip was trembling and her cup was shaking in her hands, yet she remained fiercely determined not to believe the very thing she had seen with her own two eyes. He reached out and took the cup from her. ¡°You have to listen. We may not know each other, but I¡¯ve seen enough of you to know that you will be able to understand.¡± He waited. She took a long moment to steady herself. ¡°Fine,¡± she finally said. ¡°Explain it.¡± Valis set the cup down. ¡°Very well,¡± he said. ¡°Let me tell you about the gods.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #14: Time to Reflect Exiles Issue #14 ¡°Time to Reflect¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright September 16th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The wagon bumped. Nathanius rocked in the cushions. The winnings from the fight had multiplied the profits from Ellyn¡¯s impromptu concert by more than ten times, more than enough to secure passage to Selapak, and in a comfortable wagon to boot. It was almost enough to pay off the Jaspers. Sadly that wasn¡¯t part of the plan, at least not yet. Ellyn kept the money, after splitting it with Asterious. Nathanius frowned. He¡¯d received a pitifully small commission. He looked down at his tattered fur cloak and old boots. He remained penniless. The only reason he was on the wagon at all was that, for the moment, the others needed him. Plus, Asterious seemed to like him. He had no idea why. It would take weeks for them to reach Selapak. In the meantime they could only wait. Nathanius was using the time to think about what on earth he was going to tell the Jaspers when he showed up upon their doorstep on the eve of the long dark¡­again. Worse, this time he would have absolutely nothing to offer. They were going to skin him alive. The wagon bumped again. The snow hid the rocks. There were no roads on Kalkonu. There¡¯d never been a society stable enough to build them. There were only overgrown trails marked by natural landmarks and lonely, disintegrating mileposts. He¡¯d noted the mileposts when he came west from the city. They were all different. Some were carved with the names of old hunters, others by caravan masters or the leaders of monstrous tribes; a few marked the borders of now-defunct territories, the provinces of sometime lords and baronets, all long since come and gone. No civilization could survive the long dark. A few had come close. He¡¯d been on the continent almost five years, long enough to have witnessed a few promising attempts: Highpass, Bell Town, even the elven settlement they¡¯d called Chrysalis. Each one had risen from the ruins of the long dark that came before. They were all gone now. It was as though they were cursed by their origins, marked from birth and doomed to the same cold, bloody fate as their predecessors, just another turn in the endless, ephemeral cycle. He looked over at the others. Asterious was sitting on the floor under a pile of furs, nestled comfortably like he hadn¡¯t a care in the world. He chatted with Ellyn, seated beside him stroking the guitar she¡¯d purchased before they left the Notch. The barman had demanded a ludicrous price. Ellyn had been happy to pay. She had plans to play it for shelter and supper when they reached the city. It would work, and with her talents it would probably work well¡­for a time. They had no idea what was coming. A musky drift of incense tickled his nose, emanating from the quarters of the wagon¡¯s fourth occupant, a Blind-Deaf Lady from Selapak, returning from her assignment. She¡¯d introduced herself as Eldra¡ªalthough Nathanius was virtually certain that was not her given name¡ªbefore retreating behind her wall of curtains at the end of the wagon. They saw little of her. She emerged only at mealtimes to collect her portion, and spoke hardly a word in passing.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Nathanius found his eyes drifting regularly towards her silken bedding area in the corner. She was young and human, friendly and beautiful, and cloaked in a silken haze of exotic colour and feminine mystique. He fought not to be drawn in. It was not an easy task. The Blind-Deaf Ladies were professional entertainers, and despite the name their guild was not exclusively female. They made their living through a variety of crafts both savoury and sultry. It was an old organization, one of few that managed to revive itself fairly reliably after each long dark. They weren¡¯t prostitutes, although the story went that the guild began as a bittersweet shelter for women exiled to the continent, a safe place with good food, bodyguards, and access to vocational training, all financed by carefully monitored ¡°services.¡± Not exactly the good life, but for some it was better than the alternative. Nathanius had even contemplated joining. In the end he had decided against it. He couldn¡¯t abide the tattoos. They were the symbols of the organization. Once you joined they sent you to school to get you trained in the guild¡¯s so-called basic skill set. You also received whatever instruction they had available to broaden and hone whatever talent it was that got you in: music, dancing, story-telling, wrestling, even bar service. At the end of the training you received the guild mark, a trio of long tattoos in black ink: one across your eyes to resemble a blindfold, and one on each ear coming down from the lobe and extending to the lower jaw. They represented the guild¡¯s philosophy of secrecy. A blind-deaf lady never repeated anything they might see or hear while serving a client. No exceptions. Eldra was a story-teller, with a minor in music. She¡¯d had her accoutrements all but packed by the time the three of them had arrived at the Notch, having secured her passage the moment it became available. She¡¯d mentioned it had been her plan to leave more than a month earlier, but snow had delayed the caravan. Now she was in the same boat as them, rushing back to Selapak and praying that it wasn¡¯t too late. It was worth mentioning that their shared peril only generated so much camaraderie. She hadn¡¯t told them any stories. They couldn¡¯t afford her rates. Nathanius lay back on his pillow and breathed in the sweet incense, casting his mind back to the smell of the shore markets and his little flat by the sea. The fragrant smoke perfumed his memory. It was as close as he had come in years. He didn¡¯t like to think about his home, though he did so constantly. He savoured the aroma. He wished for a story of the old country. He wished for orange coffee and the little window in his kitchen that overlooked the pier. He wished and frowned. Such luxuries were not for him anymore. The memory would have to be enough. In the dark and quiet, and silently, he wept. II. ¡°You should talk to her.¡± ¡°I will not.¡± ¡°You might like what she has to say.¡± Ellyn shook her head, a stern frown hardening on her face. ¡°You heard Nathanius. They¡¯re whores.¡± He smiled. ¡°The term is companion, and I wouldn¡¯t say that too loud. They take their profession seriously.¡± ¡°Whatever.¡± ¡°It¡¯s true.¡± ¡°How could you possibly know that?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Intuition.¡± Ellyn glared. ¡°Listen, I appreciate what you did for us at the Notch. You risked your life and I¡¯m grateful, but that doesn¡¯t mean I need you and it certainly doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to go ask this woman to pitch me on call girl academy.¡± Asterious laughed. Ellyn leaned back against the wall. ¡°I¡¯ve lived that life already.¡± Asterious raised an eyebrow. ¡°You were?¡ª¡± She stared at the ceiling. ¡°No, but life at court for a servant girl is¡­similar.¡± They sat quietly for a moment before Asterious spoke again. ¡°Do you mind if I ask what happened?¡± She glanced over. ¡°I¡¯d prefer you didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°It might help to talk about it.¡± Ellyn took a deep breath. His well-intentioned interest was starting to get annoying, but there was something earnest about his expression that made it difficult to refuse. It was like having a puppy whimpering at your feet. She surrendered grudgingly. ¡°I grew up in Lunetri. Do you know where that is?¡± ¡°The capital?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Not for a long time. They moved the government to Sylarea when they formed the new concordat. The emperor still keeps his palace there though, along with what¡¯s left of the court. The city is overrun with wealthy families, all noble to one degree or another, and they spend every day planning new ways to curry favour with the crown.¡± ¡°And your family?¡± Ellyn let out a laugh. ¡°Not noble. My father is a glass-blower. He makes beautiful things, but nothing spectacular enough to get the attention of the gentry.¡± ¡°So how did you end up here?¡± She strummed the strings of the guitar. ¡°My father always thought I had a lovely singing voice. When I got older he was able to apprentice me to one of the city chora.¡± ¡°Chora?¡± ¡°It¡¯s like an orchestra, but with vocalists.¡± ¡°I thought that was chorelea.¡± ¡°Nobody calls it that anymore.¡± He shrugged. She went on. ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s where I learned to play. One evening I was practicing on our balcony, a passing noble heard, and that was that. He took me in as a house musician.¡± Asterious waited. ¡°So?..¡± ¡°So, what?¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain how you ended up here.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°Let¡¯s just say palace life isn¡¯t all it¡¯s cracked up to be.¡± Asterious nodded. ¡°No argument there.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯ve lived in a palace?¡± He nodded again. ¡°I had my own.¡± She humphed. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± He smiled. ¡°No one does.¡± He leaned forward and pulled down his collar. There was a tattoo near his heart by the breastbone: three horses under a crown. ¡°Your coat of arms?¡± He nodded. ¡°Gondavol. It¡¯s where I¡¯m from. I was a prince.¡± She scoffed. ¡°You? A prince?¡± ¡°It¡¯s true.¡± Ellyn slid down the wall and rested on her pillow. He didn¡¯t seem like he was lying, but she¡¯d been at enough parties to know always to be wary when someone tries to sell you on the story that they¡¯re a prince from a faraway land. She lay down and shut her eyes. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never heard of any place called Gondavol.¡± Asterious chuckled and lay down as well. ¡°Yeah, no one has.¡± The wagon bumped and swayed though the night. No one noticed. It was enough for now to be warm and on the move. Across the wagon, in the dark, a wall of red silk curtains gently drew apart. Through the gap a pair of careful eyes looked out, coming quietly to rest upon Asterious. They lingered only for a moment before retreating back to the vermillion folds from whence they¡¯d come. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #15: Three Little Bottles Exiles Issue #15 ¡°Three Little Bottles¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright September 19th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°So who is this guy again?¡± ¡°His name is Valis.¡± ¡°And he works for Tormar?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t they invading?¡± ¡°They are.¡± ¡°So why are we going with him?¡± ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± Polly pursed her lips. Azarelle stared ahead, regarding the dark man in front of them with a pondering frown. It was an expression Polly had become increasingly accustomed to seeing on her friend¡¯s face. It fretted her eyes and sharpened her otherwise thoughtful features. She didn¡¯t like it. She also didn¡¯t like this new friend of theirs, but apparently he had agreed to show them everything he¡¯d been up to, and provide some assistance with regard to Az¡¯s side-project. To be honest, it sounded like a lot of horse dung. Nevertheless, they were now following him through the outlying districts of Selapak to his evil apartment lair, which Polly fully expected to find full to bursting with heavily armed thugs. They crossed the street. Her boots crunched in the roadside slush. The snow was starting to get deep. As they left the city centre it crept slowly up from her ankles to her calves. The winter was closing in; behind it would come gangs, raiders, predators, and all the other nightmares of the long night that still haunted her dreams. She looked up at Azarelle. She could get them through it. She had to. Valis led them to a run-down hotel on the edge of a deserted stockyard. Not much cargo coming and going these days. No one stopped them on the way in. There were no guards at the door, and no sign of anyone waiting in the shadows. Good signs. Of course where sorcerers were concerned, certain special precautions were required. She reached into her bag and quietly drew out a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. They both had plenty of magic on them. The outlines of the objects and the scintillating shapes of the enchantments began to glow faintly through the glasses. Azarelle had come prepared. Protection spells of a variety of types draped over her like a cloak of woven thread: guards against fire, cold, electricity, even mind-reading. Polly had never studied magic, but she¡¯d learned enough through her own stock and trade to recognize what spells could kill you or get you caught. There was only one she saw she couldn¡¯t recognize. It was in Valis¡¯s pocket. Three objects, each one no larger than a human finger. The musical patterns of magic that surrounded them shimmered with cloudy white light. She would have to keep an eye on them. Something that small could move around on you even if you were looking. The lenses began to crack. She heard it before she saw it. Polly frowned and put the spectacles back in her pocket. They¡¯d been working overtime with all the work she¡¯d been doing for her friend. All spells consumed the components that drove them. That¡¯s why magic was so expensive. Well, when you paid for it. Anyway, the glasses were no exception. She wouldn¡¯t get much more out of them, and she had a rule: never use up a spell unless it was life and death. She probably had a hundred nearly-spent spells in her bag, tucked away in case of emergency. She could deal with Valis the old fashioned way. She kept her eyes on his hands. It was a shell game. Nothing more and nothing less. And she¡¯d played follow the lady before. II. Azarelle surveyed the room. Valis turned. ¡°You seem surprised.¡± She looked back at him. ¡°I was expecting something else.¡± ¡°Something more official?¡± ¡°Actually a trap.¡± He smiled. It didn¡¯t look good on him. His eyes made the expression look threatening. ¡°Maybe it is. You still don¡¯t have any reason to trust me.¡± And the dialog wasn¡¯t helping. She stayed in the door. He¡¯d made her an offer she couldn¡¯t turn down, or at least one she couldn¡¯t reject out of hand. Now it was up to him to prove he could hold up his end of the bargain. The apartment was a single-room studio. The curtains were drawn. The light of the waning winter afternoon crept in dully through the cracks. It was sparsely furnished: mattress on the floor, desk in the corner, cabinets, and a wardrobe. The only significant feature was a long table in the middle of the floor draped with cloth.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Valis drew the covering aside and took a step away. ¡°Have a look.¡± She looked down at Polly. Her friend gave a nod. It was her job to keep an eye out for danger. Valis would have preferred she come alone. She had insisted. As an academic she was capable of whatever the practice required, but her career hadn¡¯t exactly prepared her involvement in a military conspiracy. She saw what she expected to see on the table: boxes, bottles, and other components, all carefully labelled with names and expiration dates. From the spread it looked like Valis was engaged in precisely what he said: observation and communication. He went to the cabinets. ¡°You see? Clairvoyance and clairaudience, just as I said. Something to drink?¡± He held out a bottle of wine. Azarelle looked at Polly. She shook her head. Valis shrugged, poured himself a glass, and came back to the table. ¡°Want to see the rest?¡± Azarelle nodded. He picked up a candle and went to a blank space on the wall. He struck a match and held it gently against the wick, whispering. Azarelle let a smile slip. The candle didn¡¯t produce a flame, but still an orange light began to glow. She knew the spell. Her professors used to use it to conceal test answers. The light blew up onto the wall like a cloud of sunlit dust, settling on the bricks in the shape of numbers, arrows, names, and dates. Polly¡¯s eyes widened. She practically bowled Valis over as she ran to the wall. ¡°Is this the invasion plan?¡± He nodded. ¡°Now you have seen all my secrets. My superiors in Tormar would be furious, but as you can see it matters very little whether the Jaspers know the details of the plan or not. The outcome is clear. Were you to leave here and lead them back immediately, it would not change a thing.¡± The candle burned out and the drawing faded, leaving only a brick wall and a puddle of wax on the table. Valis sipped his wine. ¡°Of course your friends would certainly kill me, and that might be enough. It would certainly increase your standing in the short term, but I have a feeling you¡¯re the sort of person who might see the further view.¡± Azarelle remained silent. He set his glass aside. ¡°I¡¯ve placed myself entirely in your hands. Do you trust me?¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°Not in the least.¡± ¡°But you believe me?¡± Azarelle frowned. In a way, she¡¯d been hoping he¡¯d turn out to be full of crap. It would have been simpler. He came over and slid a piece of paper across the table. ¡°This is a requisition form. I send it to my commander once a month. They reply with whatever I ask: currency, supplies, equipment, anything. I don¡¯t need anything at the moment, but there¡¯s still time before the attack. Help me and I will send the next one on your behalf. She and Polly looked at each other. ¡°Think about it. No more playing games with the Jaspers, no more substandard components, no more plundering the gem cutters district. No more risk. Polly started to shake her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He opened a window. ¡°Just look around you. This place isn¡¯t your home. It¡¯s barely even a real city. Who cares who¡¯s in charge? The same could be said of any place in the world. None of us have the power to influence events like these. You might as well sign on.¡± Azarelle gave him a flat look. ¡°Nice speech. It makes me wonder why you need our help in the first place.¡± He poured himself another glass of wine. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± he said with casual certainty. ¡°But it couldn¡¯t hurt, and it¡¯s certainly better than the alternative.¡± He raised the glass to Azarelle with a smile. She stared back into his dark expression. It was the first real smile she¡¯d of his since they met, cordial and sinister, like a devil offering you a pen. She looked down at the piece of paper; then back at Polly. And yet. She turned to Valis. ¡°What do you want us do?¡± III. The door shut. Valis took a long breath and went to the table. It had gone well, or at least as well as could be expected. ¡°¡­¡± He chuckled as Nexus landed on the table beside him. ¡°You¡¯re right. Not bad for a day¡¯s work.¡± His friend was always a little more cavalier than he. They were far from out of the woods. ¡°¡­¡± Another good point. They still had a backup plan. He reached into his pocket and drew it out. Three little bottles. They appeared to be empty, but he knew better than to be fooled by their appearance. These tools were not given to him by his superiors in Tormar. They were gifts from the gods. If all else failed they could be used to wipe away the troublesome memories of Azarelle and her wary friend, replacing them with whatever fiction he saw fit to contrive. Terrifying and beautiful are the magics of foreign lands, or so the scholars wrote. If they were right, then surely the spells of the gods would be the most lovely and most frightening of all. They were such strange, majestic creatures¡­only barely at the edge of comprehension. Though he communed with the choir regularly, he¡¯d met them only once. The power of their presence had been the most awe-inspiring moment in his life. It was an irony that he should finally find purpose in such a winnowing land. He went to the wardrobe. There was a mirror hung in the door. He straightened his appearance. Azarelle. He preferred her as she was. It would be a tragedy to betray her. All that came after might be somehow spoiled by it. Of course there would be nothing of her at all if she failed to please his superiors. He worried he would be left with no choice. He shook his head. There was always hope. Perhaps she would see reason in the end. Or if nothing else, obey. IV. ¡°We¡¯re not actually going to help him, are we?¡± Azarelle grumbled. ¡°Are we?¡± They were on the street, making their way back across the city. It was quite an offer. Polly wasn¡¯t taking it as well as she was. ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± ¡°But we know the Jaspers. We¡¯ve worked for them for like¡­a year. We can trust them.¡± ¡°Maybe for now, but weren¡¯t you the one who said all bets are off during the long night? And what about the invasion? You saw the wall. There¡¯s no way they¡¯re going to beat them.¡± Polly stood in front of her. ¡°We don¡¯t know that. Did you see the armies? I didn¡¯t. All we saw was a drawing.¡± ¡°An invisible drawing.¡± Polly gave her a hard look. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you couldn¡¯t make something like that on a whim if you wanted to?¡± Azarelle stepped around her. She made a good point, but that wasn¡¯t all there was to it. She still hadn¡¯t told Polly about the augury; about what she¡¯d seen at the end. What was coming¡­her friend couldn¡¯t possibly imagine. Valis had been very clear. His superiors¡ªhis real superiors¡ªcould detect when they were perceived. He couldn¡¯t fully explain how, but it was a form of sensation, not unlike taste or touch. They didn¡¯t read your mind¡ªat least he didn¡¯t seem to think so¡ªbut when you thought about them, they knew. She took a breath and thought about history class. The Iiari. The word meant ¡°to pull down.¡± It was a world the elves seldom used, out of superstition. It was the name given to the final conflict between the mortal races and the ancient so-called gods. There were no histories of the event. No accounts. No stories. Only the name. It was common knowledge that the gods were dead. Apparently they were wrong. Some survived, fleeing the grim fate of their brethren to heal and nurture their hatred in this forgotten corner of the world, living for the day they might return. And she was supposed to help them. Polly tugged on her sleeve. ¡°So?¡± She snapped out of it. ¡°What?¡± ¡°What are we going to do?¡± She framed her answer carefully. ¡°We have to keep our options open, at least for now. Play along until we know more.¡± Polly didn¡¯t seem satisfied. She answered slowly. ¡°If you say so.¡± They turned a corner. The Jaspers¡¯ place was up ahead. Polly reached into her pocket. ¡°Hey, take a look at this.¡± She held out a bottle. It looked empty. ¡°It¡¯s a bottle.¡± Polly exhasperated. ¡°It¡¯s not just a bottle. It¡¯s magic!¡± Azarelle looked it over. ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Positive.¡± ¡°Where did you get it?¡± Polly grinned. Azarelle¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°You stole it? From Valis!?¡± ¡°His fault for not showing it to us himself. Full disclosure my ass. So what do you think?¡± Azarelle took it. It didn¡¯t seem like there was anything inside, and there didn¡¯t seem to be anything special about the container. ¡°So what do you think?¡± She handed it back. ¡°I don¡¯t see any evidence of components. No powders or liquids. If there were a spell inside there would be materials. I suppose I could test it, if you¡¯re really sure.¡± Polly stuck it in her pocket. ¡°Don¡¯t trouble yourself. You¡¯re busy with your own project, not to mention Lon. I¡¯ll take it to a friend of mine and see what they think.¡± She turned to leave. Azarelle stopped her. ¡°Wait. Won¡¯t he realize it¡¯s missing?¡± Polly shook her head. ¡°Not a chance. I took it when I went to the map, poured it off into one of mine, and put it back. If you can¡¯t tell this one¡¯s not empty, he sure as hell won¡¯t know his is.¡± ¡°You opened it without knowing what it does?¡± ¡°Hey, weren¡¯t you just telling me it¡¯s just an empty bottle?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t know that!¡± Polly smiled and held her hips. ¡°Lighten up! Everything turned out fine. It¡¯ll be alright. I promise.¡± Azarelle frowned. ¡°Well, I guess it¡¯s too late anyway.¡± Polly let go. ¡°Now go on. You¡¯ll be late.¡± Azarelle blinked. ¡°Late? For what?¡± Polly frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you forgot.¡± Azarelle looked at the sky. It was late afternoon. What else wa¡ª Her eyes went wide. Oh crap! Lon! Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #16: Aging Devils Exiles Issue #16 ¡°Aging Devils¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated byJennifer Lange Copyright September 26th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°So we just walk up to them and ask for a room?¡± Nathanius gave her a flat look. ¡°Subtly more complicated than that.¡± ¡°Well, explain. You said they owe you.¡± ¡°They do, technically.¡± ¡°Technically?¡± ¡°I was employed by their family for almost six months. I hadn¡¯t been paid yet when I left.¡± Asterious spoke up from the window. He was staring out. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say you had to run away?¡± ¡°I did.¡± ¡°These the same people?¡± Nathanius nodded slowly. ¡°They are.¡± Ellyn¡¯s face hardened. ¡°Wait a minute. You mean we¡¯re going to see the same people who sold your debt to the slavers? Won¡¯t they just kill you, and us?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°Probably not. When they sold my marker to Macara my debt was expunged, and the three of us could still be useful to them.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t that mean Macara will be after you instead?¡± ¡°Not for a while. With Poole and his convoy wiped out by the Sval, the others will probably assume we died back in Misery. With a little luck, by the time word gets back to them we¡¯re still alive, we¡¯ll already be under the Jaspers¡¯ protection.¡± ¡°You think they¡¯ll protect you?¡± ¡°Maybe. I did some good work for them before my little bout with misadventure. They¡¯ll probably insist I pay the difference between the original debt and whatever Macara paid for my marker. After that we should be at least be back on speaking terms.¡± Asterious spoke up again. ¡°How much money do you owe them?¡± Nathanius looked over. Asterious was still staring out the window. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Ellyn crossed her arms. ¡°Well you can¡¯t have any of mine.¡± Nathanius sighed. ¡°Look, I know you don¡¯t approve of the way I live, but you have to listen to me. The money doesn¡¯t matter. In a few weeks it¡¯s going to be worthless. No one trades in currency during the long night. We need to get protection from somebody who has access to firewood, food, and shelter. And in Selapak that¡¯s the Jaspers.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t we just go somewhere else? There has to be someplace.¡± He shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s not enough time. The other cities are too far, and there won¡¯t be any more caravans this late in the season. Even if we left right away, we¡¯d never make it on foot. We¡¯ll have to hold out in the city.¡± Ellyn grumbled. Asterious spoke up, eyes still fixed on the landscape. ¡°How long have you been here anyway?¡± Nathanius looked down at the floor.Stolen novel; please report. ¡°Five years.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound too long.¡± ¡°Most people don¡¯t make it past one. I¡¯ve survived the long night four times, and every time I¡¯ve made it by sticking like glue to the strongest dog in the pack.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°It sounds a little¡ª¡± ¡°Manipulative?¡± ¡°I was going to say small.¡± Nathanius frowned, a touch of anger growing in his voice. ¡°The plan works, and unless you¡¯ve got a better idea, it¡¯s the only way we¡¯re going to survive.¡± He turned. ¡°And what the hell are you looking at?¡± Asterious was still peering out the window. He bobbed his head. ¡°Horses.¡± II. They ran to the window. More than a dozen riders on huge winter horses had taken lined up on a hilltop alongside the caravan. They flew no flags, but their hardened leather armour was dyed blood red, and they covered their faces with black skull-masks. Nathanius cursed and backed away from the window. He began to gather his things. Asterious stayed where he was. Ellyn looked back and forth between them. ¡°Who are they?¡± Asterious frowned. ¡°Bad news.¡± For a moment the look on the human¡¯s face gave Ellyn the impression that he knew them. There was a certain familiar foreboding in his voice, and anger in his eyes. ¡°How do you?¡ª¡± It vanished. He shrugged. ¡°Well, just look at them.¡± The horses didn¡¯t approach. As she watched, a small group of guards detached from the caravan and rode out to meet them. ¡°They won¡¯t fight.¡± She turned to face Nathanius. He was almost packed. He went on. ¡°They¡¯ll parlay.¡± ¡°Parlay?¡± He nodded. ¡°They¡¯ll give up some of the passengers in exchange. It¡¯s the last trip before the night. They don¡¯t have a reputation to protect. Get your stuff. We have to hide.¡± She went over. ¡°Why? We still have money, and Asterious can fight. Can¡¯t we buy our way out of this or something?¡± He looked up at her. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. They¡¯ll take who they can use. They¡¯ll choose us because we have money. They¡¯ll choose us because we can fight.¡± Ellyn started packing. She didn¡¯t have much, other than what the caravan provided, and her guitar. She wrapped it up in her bedroll. ¡°Who are these people?¡± Nathanius stood and shouldered his pack. ¡°Macara.¡± They dropped out a window at the back of the wagon. Ellyn whispered as she climbed down. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Why are we taking our stuff?¡± ¡°In case we can¡¯t come back. Plus it¡¯ll look better if the wagon appears to be empty.¡± Asterious jumped down. ¡°What about the lady?¡± ¡°What lady?¡± ¡°You know, what¡¯s-her-name?¡± Nathanius didn¡¯t look back. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. The slavers wouldn¡¯t touch a blind-deaf lady. The organization is too well connected.¡± Ellyn slowed down. ¡°You said that we can¡¯t count on that sort of thing this late in the year.¡± ¡°She can.¡± She stopped. ¡°Nathanius. You said they take who they can use. We have to go back and help her.¡± He shook his head. ¡°We can¡¯t move her things and we can¡¯t hide them. They¡¯ll know she¡¯s missing. If they start searching the woods we¡¯re done for. We can¡¯t take that chance.¡± Ellyn raised her voice. ¡°That¡¯s not good enough!¡± He spun around. ¡°Keep your voice down!¡± Ellyn stood firm. ¡°We have to take her with us.¡± Nathanius turned and faced the woods. His knuckles cracked. Asterious drew up beside him quietly. ¡°She¡¯s standing in the window.¡± Nathanius turned. It was just like he said. She was watching them. Her eyes were solid and passionless. She didn¡¯t expect help. The finality of her expression was as cold as the air between them. Ellyn had called him small. Maybe he was. He looked at his hands. How long had he told himself that one day he would atone for all those poor bastards he¡¯d ushered into slavery? It was easy to say it. He looked up: first at Asterious; then at Ellyn. Maybe these two were his penance. It had come faster than he thought. ¡°Alright,¡± he said. ¡°There might be a way. III. The scar itched. Poole took off his mask, drawing a few sidelong glances from his men. He detested the masks. They were cheap theatre and they smelled like charcoal and animal urine from the dye. It was guild law that they should be worn in public, but this close to the long night¡­it didn¡¯t matter. Just like this little shakedown. The fight at Misery had been quick. The Sval emerged from the tide like a wave crashing on the beach. Only he and a few of his men had managed to escape, fleeing on horseback down the coast. They¡¯d returned when the dust had settled, passing through the carnage like soldiers recovering the battlefield dead. It had been a long time since anyone had called him a soldier. At least now no one would question his mettle. His superiors had always cautioned that his preen appearance failed to intimidate. They¡¯d even suggested he mutilate himself in some small way to add a mote of darkness to his image. He scratched his face. The Sval had seen to it. The slaves were all dead or missing when they returned, and most of the equipment was gone. It was a total loss. His career would not soon recover. But again, it didn¡¯t matter. The long night would soon fall. All that remained was to scrape together a pile of supplies sufficient to last the winter. Survival was paramount. Well, survival and revenge. Nathanius. Were it not for the man, he would never have been present at the camp. He fished the debtors note out of his pocket, still in its folio. They hadn¡¯t found his body among the dead. Of course, the Sval had probably dragged him into the sea with the rest of their victims. At the time he¡¯d written his quarry off as a loss, but when he¡¯d returned to the notch he¡¯d heard the strangest story from a fighting pit bookmaker: about a trio of refugees who had arrived on foot, sung for their supper, and won a small fortune betting the proceeds. They¡¯d left with the last caravan. This caravan. The personal element was of peripheral importance. Collecting the man would salvage his place in the guild and secure some meagre accommodation for the winter; time enough to slowly regain his rank for the next season. Macara always survived the night in one form or another. He¡¯d been in service to them for five years already. The subcontinent¡¯s demand for labour was inexhaustible. Service. Referring to it that way almost made it sound honourable. They¡¯d been working their way down the wagon line. The master was proving very cooperative. Counting his blessings. He¡¯d probably expected to part with far more. The man spoke back over his shoulder. ¡°They might be in this next one here. Only four passengers: a blind lady and three others. They never come out of the wagon. We only drop off the food.¡± Poole waved his men over. ¡°Very well, open it.¡± He did. A wave of black nausea swept over them. Poole covered his mouth and nose. The room stank of death and there was a pile of sick at the door speckled with blood. The others drew back. Poole took a step onto the stairs. The lamps inside were sputtering out, but there was enough light to see four corpses on the floor, laid out in beds cobbled together from what looked like the blind-deaf lady¡¯s belongings. He didn¡¯t dare get close. Their skin was pockmarked and oozing from open sores, veins swollen red. The Sval were known to smear their weapons with excrement and entrails of animals and fish. The smallest cut could kill, though it could take weeks to die. The afflicted would spread fever, leaving their prey softened for the attack. He stepped down. ¡°How long since you checked on them?¡± The wagon mastered pondered. ¡°A few days. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.¡± Poole shut the door. They wouldn¡¯t have said anything. If the caravan knew they were sick they would have been left behind. He waved his men over. ¡°Burn the wagon. We¡¯re leaving.¡± The wagon master sputtered. ¡°But¡ª¡± Poole turned to the man and glared. ¡°Be glad a wagon is all this meeting cost you.¡± The man fell silent and gave a slow nod. Poole climbed onto his horse as his men set the wagon ablaze. Smoke began to billow. Poole kicked his horse and rode out. His men followed after. He admitted his disappointment only to himself. It was too simple a death. Further, it meant there would be no prize to take back to the guild, nor any proof Nathanius was dead; not that it would have mattered. Macara dealt in able bodies. A trophy would only have put an official seal on his failure. Still, it was a disappointment. If he were going to die, Poole would have preferred to slay the man himself. He kicked his horse. Perhaps it had been personal after all. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #17: Simpler Times Exiles Issue #17 ¡°Simpler Times¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright October 9th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°Will you be at the ceremony?¡± Azarelle sipped her coffee. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± A tall carriage rolled by, loaded with passengers and luggage. ¡°You should go. Your students will be disappointed.¡± Azarelle stared quietly across the road. The capital was vibrant. It was like this every year around this time as the family and friends of every student at the university arrived in Sylarea to take part in the celebration. The merchants and traders were quick to follow. The visitors gawked as they rumbled along the busy streets, eyes wide with wonder and excitement. The caf¨¦s were crowded, the restaurants were packed, and the shops stayed open all night. It was lively in its way. ¡°Professor?¡± She turned back to the man across the table and smiled. His name was Jyll Sareen. Formerly he was her pupil; soon he would be an associate professor. She liked him. He¡¯d written his postgraduate thesis on inverted material harmonics. It was a substantive work, very unlike the mountain of recycled knowledge she¡¯d graded alongside it. It would be a pleasure to work with him. And of course there was the other thing. She set down her coffee. ¡°You know the title isn¡¯t necessary. You aren¡¯t a student anymore.¡± He gave her an apologetic look. It scrunched the ridges of his nose, a quirk she¡¯d always found irresistibly endearing. ¡°Force of habit.¡± ¡°You¡¯re forgiven.¡± ¡°Besides, the ceremony isn¡¯t until the morning. Technically, I am still a student.¡± She gave him a wry smile. ¡°Technically.¡± He shrugged playfully. ¡°It can¡¯t be helped.¡± She leaned forward and reached across the table, taking his hand. It had been a difficult year for the two of them, ever since he¡¯d arrived, a transfer from a smaller academy on the coast. Their discipline had lapsed only twice, during their annual fervours, which were thankfully out of sync. Heaven help them both when they eventually lined up. Still, they¡¯d waited this long. She gently squeezed his palm.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°I suppose another day couldn¡¯t hurt.¡± II. ¡°Professor?¡± Azarelle shook her head. Lon sat across from her. ¡°I hope I¡¯m not boring you.¡± She snapped out of it. ¡°No, of course you¡¯re not. I¡¯m sorry. What were you saying?¡± Lon smiled. ¡°I was actually going to say that lately it seems like you¡¯ve had something on your mind.¡± Azarelle suppressed a frown. She wasn¡¯t trying to be rude. He¡¯d been a perfect gentleman all evening, and he¡¯d prepared a fine meal: roasted goat, wild mushrooms, and vegetables with real butter. She hadn¡¯t eaten like this in¡­well, since she¡¯d come here. The memories were painful. That was all. She enjoyed his company, but she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it was this place that motivated her. At the university she would never have dealt with someone who had their hands in such dirty business; yet here she was at the supper table, having dinner with a member of organized crime and honestly considering whether or not the two of them might have a future. She couldn¡¯t help but remember that lost afternoon at the caf¨¦ in the midmarket, before everything had gone awry. Had it been so long? Was this man simply the nearest warm blanket? Was that all that mattered anymore? Was that all she wanted now? The frown emerged. She hated this place. Lon leaned forward. ¡°Azarelle, what¡¯s wrong?¡± She looked across the table. It was no good. There was no way she could be honest with him, and everything after that was tainted. In another world or another lifetime, perhaps there could have been something. Here there would be only lies. She answered. ¡°I¡¯m just worried about the long night. This will be my first. I don¡¯t know what to expect, and with the threat of the invasion and the augury and all the stories¡­I¡¯m just afraid that everything we¡¯re doing will be for nothing, that it will all be swept away by what¡¯s coming and the two of us along with it.¡± There was a pause. Azarelle waited. She was never able to force herself to tears. Lon set down his napkin, stood up, and slowly came around the table, kneeling beside her chair. He took her hands gently. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry. My brothers and I have had plans in place for months. You can¡¯t let yourself think this way. It¡¯s not like you. It¡¯s true there are dangers ahead, but you¡¯re stronger than what we¡¯re facing¡± She tried to seem comforted. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± He nodded. ¡°I am.¡± He stood up. She felt absolutely terrible. Why did he have to be so reliably supportive? Was it too much to ask for him to reveal himself to be some kind of lascivious, maniacal villain? He helped her out of her chair. ¡°I tell you what. Why don¡¯t you have the rest of the evening to yourself? I¡¯ll have some wine brought up to your apartment. You can relax and tinker with your project. I know you¡¯ve been putting it off, and working on it always makes you feel better.¡± She glanced at the table on impulse. Half her food was still on the plate. She couldn¡¯t help but regress to her college days when leaving so much as a waffle half-eaten was a hell-worthy trespass. ¡°But what about dinner?¡± He smiled. ¡°The roast was good, wasn¡¯t it?¡± She nodded reluctantly. He kissed her on the cheek. ¡°I¡¯ll send it up with the wine.¡± He walked her to the door and ushered her out. Even as her heart sank she fought a rising blush in her cheeks the whole way. Her moral compass was spinning in circles. Stupid dinner. Stupid wine. Stupid Lon. III. Lon crossed the room, fetching up the plates on his way to the kitchen in the back. He handed them off to a member of the staff. ¡°Warm these up and take them to the professor¡¯s quarters with a bottle of wine.¡± Someone chuckled from the corner. ¡°Nice gesture.¡± Lon turned. Rias was there. ¡°She had a hard day.¡± His brother answered darkly. ¡°You have no idea.¡± Lon frowned. A moment passed in silence, lit only by the dim red glow of the stove. They weren¡¯t burning candles. Too late in the year. It was best to save fuel. ¡°You had her followed.¡± His brother nodded. ¡°One of the most powerful sorcerers in the city with a thousand ingots in her bag? Of course I had her followed.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Rias came out of the corner as the server left with the wine. They were alone. Rias opened a second bottle and poured them both a glass. ¡°Never trust anyone who can hurt you. You taught me that. She knows too much to be left alone.¡± Lon left his glass on the table. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t hurt us.¡± Rias sipped his wine and said nothing. Lon stood quietly. Rias always got like this with him. Smug. The older brother. He¡¯d always been the most suspicious. Lon growled. ¡°Just tell me.¡± Rias nodded and set down his glass. ¡°She met a man for lunch.¡± Lon practically laughed, hiding a burst of relief. ¡°I knew that. She¡¯s building us a stove for the long night. He¡¯s one of her suppliers.¡± His brother shook his head. ¡°The two of them spoke for over an hour. No goods changed hands. No ingots. She bought all she planned to on the way to the meeting. When they were finished she met with Polly von Toffel.¡± ¡°The thief?¡± ¡°They went with him to the shipping district.¡± ¡°To pick up an order?¡± He shook his head again. ¡°They didn¡¯t come out with anything, although it¡¯s hard to tell with the Halfling involved. I put some men on the place. They¡¯ve already spotted some kind of telescope on the roof.¡± He picked up his glass and finished it. ¡°I¡¯ll give you one guess where it¡¯s pointed.¡± Lon¡¯s stomach began to turn. ¡°At us.¡± Rias nodded. ¡°You know I never approved of your interest in her, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m pleased.¡± Lon glared at him. ¡°Yes you are.¡± His brother shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s always nice to be proven right. Still, I know you cared for her.¡± ¡°I still do.¡± Rias frowned. ¡°Open your eyes. She¡¯s using you. The man is a spy from Tormar and she is helping him. Probably has been from the beginning. ¡°You don¡¯t know that. There are any number of other explanations.¡± ¡°Trust your instincts. Even you have some. Our plans are worth more than some piece of elven tail.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t talk about her like that.¡± ¡°You know I¡¯m right. You¡¯re forcing yourself to be na?ve.¡± Lon growled. ¡°I don¡¯t want her harmed until we know for sure, and I will investigate.¡± His brother moved to leave. Lon caught him by the shoulder. ¡°Not until we know.¡± Rias was quiet for a moment. He nodded slowly. ¡°It¡¯s on you, brother. Just don¡¯t forget how we ended up here.¡± He went out the door. Lon watched his tall, broad form retreat down the corridor. ¡°No more mistakes.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #18: The Cutting Edge of Mercy Exiles Issue #18 ¡°The Cutting Edge of Mercy¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright October 11th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. A close call. It hadn¡¯t been the first. There was the blizzard that one time, and the bandits a few months ago, and the yeti the week before that. Caravan life was filled with unforeseen risks, but it kept you out of the cities, which more than compensated for any dangers they encountered on the trail. At least out here you could see your enemy coming. Usually. It was his own fault for choosing a route that strayed from open ground, but this late in the seasons the plains were practically impassable, plagued by frostbitten gales that could freeze even the hardiest beast, and endless drifts of featureless snow that concealed any number of deadly pitfalls. Travel through the woods was safer, even if it meant that raiders¡ªguild-marked or otherwise¡ªcould lie in wait. He walked the length of his long wagon, shedding his over-clothes and scratching his bald head. The fire had burned low, reminding him of the winter outside and the imperatives of his role as caravan master. He had more to account for than the lives of a few destitute passengers. Still, as he stooped to fill the brazier he couldn¡¯t help but mourn the loss of the wagon and the poor bastards that went up with it. He was just glad the slavers hadn¡¯t taken something or someone else to replace their fallen prize. He¡¯d taken the wagons forward another half-a-day before calling for the halt. Night had fallen. The slavers could still change their minds, but there was no avoiding that. The caravan moved too slowly to escape. It was a rolling town, complete with cooks, tailors, carpenters, and blacksmiths alongside the passengers. Nevertheless, the feeling of distance put them at ease. The fire warmed the cabin. Only a few more days. Once he reached the city he would offload the passengers and cache his goods in one of the abandoned storehouses at the edge of town. The wagons would be broken down for firewood, their metal parts used to fortify the structure. He¡¯d traded all the passengers¡¯ fees for food back at the Notch. Combined with their reserves, he and his people would have enough to wait out the winter. It was a good system. Over the years he¡¯d lost very few. The fire blazed. Time to turn in. It was a long road in the morning. It was a long road every morning. He stood up. That was when he saw them. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it II. Asterious practically flew across the room, catching the man¡¯s mouth under his glove. He drove the man back across the floor and slammed him into the wall. He grinned. ¡°Nice jammies.¡± The man struggled, but Asterious held him fast. Nathanius stood up from his perch at the foot of the bed and approached. Ellyn kept her seat, along with the blind-deaf lady, Eldra. They looked on in vengeful silence. Their gamble had paid off. It was a lucky thing. The rumours about the blind-deaf ladies were true. He¡¯d heard tell that they used magic to enhance their clients¡¯ experiences, manipulating the weave to create hypnotic sensations of touch, sound, smell, and even sight. Of course she¡¯d probably never been called upon to create the impression that she was a plague-ridden corpse. At least he hoped not. They¡¯d practically suffocated in that wagon, waiting for the slavers to leave before dropping out the same window they¡¯d exited earlier. After that it had been easy enough to follow the wagons. He wasn¡¯t sure what he would have done differently, had he been in the man¡¯s place. The slavers were powerful. He would have been scared too. Taking it out on him like this felt somehow¡­hypocritical. Nathanius nodded and Asterious let him go. ¡°Don¡¯t shout. We¡¯re not going to hurt you.¡± To his credit, he didn¡¯t break down blubbering. He just straightened his underclothes and massaged the back of his head. ¡°What do you want? I¡¯m tired.¡± Ellyn spoke up. ¡°That¡¯s a fine answer after you tried to turn us in.¡± The man looked past him, over his shoulder. ¡°Having some trouble with your vowels there?¡± Her eyes turned to fire. Nathanius stepped in front and he turned back. ¡°You all would have done the same in my place.¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think she would have. I might have, but she¡¯s classier than that.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t change a thing.¡± Nathanius clicked his teeth in his mouth. ¡°Actually, it does. You see she was the one who convinced me not to kill you, as long as you cooperated.¡± It was an empty threat. He just wanted him to give in without causing a fuss. The man raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°We still need to get to Selapak.¡± The man furrowed his brow. ¡°You want another place in the caravan?¡± Ellyn laughed. Nathanius shook his head. ¡°Then what do you want from me?¡± Nathanius took a large, rolled piece of paper out of his coat and unfurled it. He¡¯d found it in the man¡¯s desk. ¡°I went through your things. I was surprised to discover this. Most caravan masters don¡¯t use maps. Must be very old. I don¡¯t recognize any of the names.¡± The man nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve been using it a long time.¡± ¡°How long have you been here?¡± The man smiled. ¡°Longer than you.¡± Nathanius rolled it back up. ¡°Well, we¡¯ll be taking it off your hands, along with one of the wagons and some food. Don¡¯t worry, we won¡¯t ask for any more than we would have used to get there anyway, and you can pick the wagon. We don¡¯t want to strand you or anyone else.¡± The man frowned, considering it carefully. Nathanius gave him a flat look. ¡°You and I both know you can spare a wagon, and you don¡¯t need the map. The alternative is we kill you right here. I¡¯d rather we part company on better terms.¡± They waited. The man stood quietly before slowly extending his hand. Nathanius shook it. III. They departed an hour later and travelled through the night. And when the sun came up they kept right on going. Asterious sat in the driver¡¯s seat, wearing all their coats. They rode in the cabin. Nathanius crouched over the old map, double-checking their route. He must have been over it a dozen times. Ellyn watched him. ¡°Are you sure you know where you¡¯re going?¡± He nodded. ¡°I think so. This isn¡¯t the same route I took when I left the city, but this map is good. There are settlements here that I never knew existed. I wonder how many are still around.¡± He leaned up and slid a little window open near the roof. Asterious was sitting on the other side. ¡°Still awake out there?¡± Asterious answered through a cheerful yawn. ¡°I¡¯m good.¡± ¡°If you can stand another hour we should reach the next marker. We¡¯ll trade while we rest the animals.¡± Another yawn. ¡°You¡¯re the boss.¡± He slid the window shut. The wagon hit a rock and jolted hard, sending Nathanius careening the short distance to the floor. He landed with a thud. Ellyn squirmed in her seat. ¡°We should have asked for a bigger wagon.¡± Nathanius groaned up into a sitting position, rubbing his shoulder. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to ask for too much. By letting him pick we reduce the chance he decides it¡¯s worth it to come after us.¡± Ellyn frowned. She hated when he had a point. Still, the wagon was incredibly small. It had barely enough room for their supplies, let alone four people. The stove was barely the size of a child¡¯s kick ball, and there was no room to walk. She sat on her bed, sandwiched between the firewood and a week¡¯s worth of salted fish. Eldra¡¯s bedroll was behind her. Nathanius had rolled his out along the front. He went back to the map. Ellyn stared at him as he drew his finger over the yellowed parchment. She hadn¡¯t forgiven him for trying to leave Eldra behind. It didn¡¯t count as basic mortal decency if you had to be dragged to it kicking and screaming. He wasn¡¯t an entirely good person. So far he¡¯d only managed to be useful. Still, his machinations had gotten them this far. She laid in her bedroll. How far had she fallen, to know that his was the glue that held them all together. She stared at her guitar. It had survived the fire, but the once bright face had been stained with soot. She frowned. It seemed nothing could remain pristine in this place, and the worst part was that more and more she was beginning to realize that this wasn¡¯t just some passing ordeal. There were no rough patches. No high points and low points. There was only Kalkonu. This was the way things were, and it would never stop. She couldn¡¯t help but remember what Nathanius said back at the fighting pit. No room for morals. Maybe it was only a matter of time before this place wore down her just like it had him. The thought was like a weight on her chest. Eldra rolled over, asleep. Alive. If they could save her, maybe they could save themselves. She shut her eyes. It was too much to hope for. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #19: Homecoming Exiles Issue #19 ¡°Homecoming¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright October 24th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°It¡¯s so¡­dirty.¡± Nathanius observed the street from his perch on the wagon. She wasn¡¯t wrong. ¡°It grows on you.¡± Ellyn grimaced. ¡°Like mould.¡± Asterious¡¯s muffled voice piped up from inside the wagon. ¡°I think it¡¯s refreshing.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t even see it.¡± ¡°Only because you¡¯re hogging the window.¡± Nathanius thumped his fist on the roof. ¡°I swear, I will turn this thing around if you don¡¯t quiet down. We¡¯re almost there.¡± Asterious pushed Ellyn out of the way. His face appeared in the tiny window of the carriage. ¡°Your friends¡¯ place?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°No. We¡¯re going to drop Eldra off first.¡± ¡°That¡¯s very considerate of you.¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°I aim to please.¡± Ellyn¡¯s muffled voice answered from inside the wagon. ¡°You just want to be able to say the Blind-Deaf Ladies owe you a favour when we see your mafia creditors.¡± Nathanius clicked his fingers. ¡°That too. You don¡¯t mind. Do you, Eldra?¡± ¡°I suppose it¡¯s only fair. They should be pleased. I¡¯m more than a month late. By now they probably believe that I am dead.¡± Nathanius kept his eyes on the road. He was indeed hoping for a reward. An favour of the Blind-Deaf Ladies would go a long way toward squaring things with the Jaspers. Eldra had opened up quite a bit during their journey. She seemed to have taken a particular interest in Asterious. Birds of a feather, perhaps, but something about her curiosity suggested a deeper intrigue than simple human fellowship. For his part, Asterious had been strangely tight-lipped, an oddity given his habit of yammering away about whatever happened to cross his mind. She kept asking about his past in subtle ways. He never replied, at least not in earnest.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. At first Nathanius assumed he just didn¡¯t care to reminisce. A man of the moment, so to speak. He certainly acted like it. But the more that he listened to the two of them, the more he began to realize there was something very intentional about the brash human¡¯s evasions; and despite the coy veneer that she displayed, he¡¯d begun to suspect that Eldra¡¯s questions concealed a purpose that was as specific as it was hidden. They were depending on her. It was best not to rock the boat, but as before, the ground beneath them was unsteady. Like a sheet of new ice, it was not to be trusted¡­even as it bore you up. The wagon slogged through the mud and slush that filled the road. It was worse this year than the last. Winter had come early. It seemed to come earlier every season. Already the windows of the shops and merchants stalls were showing signs of the coming barricade. Beggars and vagrants who knew their time was soon to come had already begun to form gangs. Time was short. He cracked the reins. II. ¡°Eldra, honey!¡± Nathanius smiled. He had never met the Dominaa of Selapak. He didn¡¯t have that kind of money, but something about the woman who came bouncing toward them as they came through the door immediately washed away lingering dour thoughts. She was tall, with a bright face and a cascade of sandy-blonde hair that spilled down over postured shoulders to meet an ample bust, borne aloft by a bright red and gold corset. Her dress was a calf-length dancing dress in bright red, embroidered with a pattern of black and gold. Her voice sounded like daylight and white wine. Nathanius had to stop himself staring, though he seriously doubted that she would take offense. The leader of the Blind-Deaf Ladies was known to possess provocative attitude alongside her genteel intellect. It was a combination that Nathanius found irresistible. He chuckled. As surely uttered every man to ever cross her path. He did his best to bow in his ragged furs, suddenly feeling exceptionally low as she swept in and drew Eldra up into a hug that lifted her off the ground. ¡°We thought we¡¯d lost you.¡± Eldra smiled awkwardly and curtsied after her mistress set her down. ¡°You very nearly did. Macara stopped my caravan on the trail. It was this man and his friends who helped me to escape.¡± Nathanius kept his bow, praying that behind him Asterious and Ellyn would have the good sense to stay quiet and let him do the talking. The dominaa turned and quietly came toward them. Nathanius waited. He expected her to keep her distance. They were hardly presentable after all. His heart skipped a beat when she took his head by the cheek and lifted him up into a tight embrace. She repeated the gesture to each of Ellyn and Asterious. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say. My girls and boys mean everything to me.¡± It was Asterious who answered. ¡°It was our pleasure, ma¡¯am.¡± Wrong title. Nathanius winced. Luckily she took it in good spirits. ¡°That¡¯s mistress to you, young man. And I can¡¯t thank the three of you enough for putting yourself at risk.¡± Asterious bowed low. ¡°Apologies, Mistress. And it was the least we could do.¡± She looked at him with a coy smile. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you the noble sort?¡± He smiled and looked up. ¡°Yes, Mistress.¡± She clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Well, would the nobleman like a noble bath and something to drink?¡± Nathanius turned to face them. ¡°We would be grateful, Mistress.¡± She turned and paused. ¡°You do the talking?¡± He gave a half-bow. ¡°Yes, Mistress.¡± She bobbed her head back at Asterious and smiled. ¡°He¡¯s doing a fine job. Maybe you should take a break.¡± There was nothing disparaging in her tone. Her good-humour was irrepressible. Nathanius bowed again and smiled, utterly disarmed. ¡°Yes, mistress.¡± She led them through into the club. The House of the Red Silk Curtains was well known in Selapak, though precious few could afford to venture inside. It was the preferred respite for the city by the lake¡¯s most wealthy and influential patrons. To be brought in as a guest was a rare gift. The foyer opened to a broad entry hall, with double-doors fixed with glass leading out into a variety of lounges and concert halls. Nathanius could hear music: strings, winds, piano and voice. They whispered through the thick wooden doors and out into the corridor, which was padded with woollen carpet dyed red. The dominaa kept talking as they walked. ¡°The baths are through here, in back. My staff will take your boots and clothes. We might have some hand-me-downs that will fit you, and we¡¯ll wash the rest. If you have any weapons they¡¯ll be kept at the front desk. Will you three be bathing together?¡± Ellyn answered. ¡°No, mistress.¡± The dominaa turned her head and regarded Ellyn briefly. Ellyn flinched. Nathanius tried to keep a straight face, though he felt a pang of sympathy for her. It was impossible to disguise the marring of her voice, and it was the first introduction any person ever had of her. The dominaa moved on promptly. ¡°Some company then for any of you? Compliments of the house.¡± Nathanius started to answer. He didn¡¯t enjoy refusing her, but the less that the dominaa felt her debt had been paid, the better. Asterious interjected before he could respond. ¡°We¡¯d be quite a sight for your staff, mistress. Perhaps just some soap and hot water.¡± Nathanius thanked his lucky stars for whatever whim or moral had driven the man to decline. She turned. ¡°It¡¯s no trouble. It would be our pleasure to care for you.¡± Nathanius cut in, unwilling to press his luck. He shook his head with as much grace as he could summon. ¡°All the same, mistress.¡± A flicker of understanding glinted briefly in her eyes. He wasn¡¯t surprised. A woman in charge of an organization as influential as the Blind-Deaf Ladies would easily see through to his intent. Fortunately she didn¡¯t seem offended by it. She clucked her tongue in her cheek. ¡°Shame. Some wine then?¡± He smiled. ¡°Please.¡± III. The dominaa left them in the front room of the baths, promising to check on them after attending to other work. She escorted Ellyn to another room. Her staff arrived with the wine and helped them disrobe. Within minutes they were immersed in a bath of hot perfumed water, sipping from real stemmed glasses and feeling all but dipped in the essence of joy itself. Asterious laid back against the stones that lined the pool. ¡°How do you figure a woman like that ends up in a place like this?¡± Nathanius sipped his wine. ¡°Who knows. She doesn¡¯t seem like a criminal. Maybe she made someone angry?¡± Asterious shot him an incredulous look. ¡°Her?¡± Nathanius shrugged, practically dissolving into the water. He¡¯d never felt so relaxed in his life. ¡°I guess not.¡± Asterious grabbed a brush and began scrubbing himself off. ¡°Think she¡¯ll help us?¡± Nathanius lay back and sipped his wine, feeling the heat. ¡°I hope so.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #20: The Hard Sell Exiles Issue #20 ¡°The Hard Sell¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright October 24th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Ellyn lay in the water, smelling the fragrant salts and spices they¡¯d added to the bath. Her body eased. It was a feeling she¡¯d been sure she¡¯d left behind. After today it didn¡¯t seem likely she¡¯d enjoy it again. It was the calm that came before the storm, and despite her efforts to forget her troubles with assistance of soft soap and sweet wine, her thoughts were clouded by images of shadowy figures in skull-like masks and all the other horrors of the long dark. Kalkonu. The gloom of the place had infected her. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes, except that in her prolonged despair her heart had all but dried of tears. One could hardly feel grief over a loss that was so¡­permanent. She didn¡¯t even hear the door open. Her trance was broken by the sound of the water being disturbed. She leaned up, covering herself as the tall form of the dominaa stepped out of the steam that enrobed the bath. Ellyn had never been intimidated by the bodies of other women. In its own sickening, sordid fashion, the time she spent in her master¡¯s house had at least cured her of any physical insecurity. Nevertheless, the unclothed form of the mistress of the blind-deaf ladies made her feel like a child. The dominaa slipped down into the water with a discreet nod and a warm smile. ¡°My staff said you were still in here. Your friends have gone to bed.¡± Ellyn felt suddenly nervous. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to impose.¡± The woman shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m the one who¡¯s imposing. I like to sneak a bath at the end of the day after the guests take to sleep, and I was hoping you and I might have time to talk.¡± Ellyn settled slowly back into her seat. The bath was made from smooth grey stone, heated from underneath by some kind of enchantment. She could see the hot glow in the deep water at the centre of the bath. ¡°What do you want to talk about?¡± The dominaa slid across the stones to sit beside her. ¡°Eldra told me about what you did.¡± ¡°Me?¡± ¡°It was you who convinced the others to go back for her. She also told me you are a musician, and suggested that I should offer you a place here.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Ellyn was taken aback. She knew the reputation of the Blind-Deaf Ladies was exaggerated, at least to a point, and of course the dominaa meant any offense. If anything she probably considered the offer to be an honour. Plus, they needed her help. Ellyn did her best to be diplomatic. She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± The dominaa smiled. ¡°I know it¡¯s not for everyone, but don¡¯t answer right away. I know what people think, but it¡¯s a life, and it¡¯s family, and it¡¯s a home.¡± Ellyn answered glumly. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can fix my voice.¡± The dominaa shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of spells that might be capable of it, but there hasn¡¯t been magic like that in Selapak for a long time.¡± ¡°Are there no sorcerers here?¡± The kind of magic you need doesn¡¯t come from sorcerers. It¡¯s practiced by naturists.¡± ¡°Naturists?¡± ¡°Elusive societies of Faylene magic. But they all left the city a long time ago.¡± Ellyn sighed. ¡°Figures.¡± They sat in silence for some time before the dominaa spoke again. ¡°If I may say, you seem to be burdened by more than woes than your wound. It might help you to talk about them with someone¡­with someone who wouldn¡¯t judge you.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m ready to do that.¡± The dominaa leaned back. ¡°You don¡¯t have to.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t even know what to say.¡± The dominaa reached up and flicked her finger against a bell on the wall. It chimed softly. A young man in a breechcloth appeared a moment later with a fresh bottle of wine and new glasses. He bore the same tattoos as the rest of the staff, and disappeared as quietly as he¡¯d come. Ellyn gave a questioning look. ¡°How did he know what to bring?¡± The dominaa smiled. ¡°He is very well trained.¡± Ellyn lifted her eyebrows. The dominaa laughed and poured them each a glass. ¡°I¡¯ll start.¡± she said. ¡°My name is Bridgette. Yours is Ellyn. Is that right?¡± Ellyn reached forward and took her glass. ¡°How did you know?¡± ¡°Your friends told me. I visited with them earlier. They seem like good men.¡± Ellyn chuckled. ¡°Asterious is a good man. I don¡¯t know about Nathanius. He¡¯s¡­¡± The domina nodded. ¡°I know, but he has a good heart.¡± Ellyn sipped her wine. ¡°How do you know?¡± She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a gift. They¡¯re both grateful to know you.¡± Ellyn lifted an eyebrow. ¡°Did they say that?¡± The dominaa shook her head. ¡°No, but it¡¯s easy to see. I think you give them hope. Maybe they do the same for you?¡± Ellyn offered a forlorn laugh. ¡°Them?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not always easy to understand.¡± Ellyn shook her head and pulled her knees up to her chest. ¡°There is no hope here.¡± The dominaa came closer and put an arm gently around her shoulders. ¡°Of course there is.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°I can¡¯t see it.¡± She gave her a little shake. ¡°You have to look for it. It never wanders far. Search for it in the familiar places. You can always find it nearby.¡± ¡°Familiar places?¡± She nodded. ¡°I heard about your music. You shared something beautiful, and for a moment everyone who heard it remembered what it was like to be away from this place.¡± Ellyn looked up. The dominaa pressed a finger to her chest. ¡°That¡¯s hope.¡± Something stirred. Ellyn felt her throat begin to close. Like all the other times she¡¯d felt it she tried to force it back down into her chest, but it was no use. Maybe it was the wine, or the water, or this woman, but the feeling spread to her belly and her arms and her eyes until finally all the grief and pain she¡¯d felt since the first sting of the knife inside her mouth came pouring out. She cried. Bawling, she pressed her face into the dominaa¡¯s shoulder, wet soft skin against biting salt tears. Her mouth could hardly form the words: Gone. Gone. Her parents. Her home. Her whole life and all the joy and hope she ever knew. Hope for the future. The joy of song. She would never know them again. And the fault! It was hers. Even now she couldn¡¯t force herself to believe that she was just a victim. The truth raged upon her even as she wept. Blame. Ambition. Pride. Who was she to be prideful in this state? Who was she to have been prideful ever? The soft touch of the woman beside her and the firmness of her embrace drew the veil inexorably aside and all the loathing and regret spumed forth like a torrent of black water. She was swept away in it; for how long, she would never fully know. The dominaa simply held her close, whispering comfort. When it was over she let her go and took her leave. II. The next day began late in the morning. This close to the night there were only a few fleeting hours of light each day, but the dominaa¡¯s cheerful smile as she examined each of them in their new warm clothes and coats brought a ray of good sun piercing down through the clouds. It even put a spring in Nathanius¡¯s normally cautious steps. She saw them to the door. ¡°I only wish we could do more for you. Did you get enough coffee?¡± Asterious spun a hatchet over in the air and stuck it in his belt. ¡°Your generosity has been more than anyone could expect. Thank you, mistress.¡± Ellyn watched him. His cheer was genuine. It was always surprising to see. Her own feelings hadn¡¯t changed at all; nor had her troubles, but for some reason she couldn¡¯t quite define, her time spent with the dominaa had indeed lifted her spirits, if only by a small amount. Nathanius climbed up to the driver¡¯s perch. Asterious helped Ellyn into the wagon. The animals snuffled and pawed, puffing clouds of hot breath into the frigid morning air, eager to be under way. Nathanius took up the reins. ¡°Everybody ready?¡± The dominaa put up a hand. ¡°Not quite.¡± One of her staff produced a smooth red scarf with a knot of burnished gold twisted around the middle. She handed it to Ellyn. ¡°This is a favour of the blind-deaf ladies. I hope it helps you.¡± Ellyn bowed her head. ¡°Thank you, mistress.¡± She smiled. ¡°Think about what I said.¡± Ellyn shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to change my mind. I¡¯m not ready to come here. Not yet.¡± The dominaa raised an eyebrow and slipped a scrunched up grin. ¡°Hope?¡± Ellyn smiled back in spite of herself. ¡°Perhaps a little.¡± The dominaa kissed her cheek. ¡°Sometimes a little is all you need.¡± She stepped away. Nathanius cracked the reins. The animals brayed, the axles groaned, the wheels creaked and the wagon rolled away. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #21: In the Wind Exiles Issue #21 ¡°In the Wind¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright November 1st, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Azarelle looked at the table, piled high with rotting wooden boxes and loosely-nailed crates. ¡°They don¡¯t look like much.¡± Valis smiled. ¡°That¡¯s the point. They¡¯re glamoured. Their appearance isn¡¯t even skin deep. Watch.¡± He waved his hand over the nearest crate and whispered. Azarelle recognized the incantation: a standard dispel. No components needed. All you needed was to know how the original spell was strung and spoken. Then you just ran it in reverse. It was a basic skill, though far easier to describe than to perform. She still remembered how her professors had described it: an enchantment is like a burning flame; it can only be snuffed out by one familiar with the match. A little poetic for her taste. The glamour disappeared. The rickety crate was replaced by a tough wooden box, nailed tightly shut and reinforced with iron fittings. The symbol of Tormar was burned into the top. Polly examined it, searching for any sign of tampering. ¡°I¡¯d like some time to look these over.¡± Valis shrugged. ¡°Stay as long as you like, but I can¡¯t replace the illusions after you¡¯ve finished. I don¡¯t have the resources. Polly looked up, suspicious. ¡°You want us to take delivery without examining the merchandise?¡± Valis frowned. ¡°This isn¡¯t some underworld contract, Ms. Toffel. I will be counting on your help. I have no reason not to fulfil my end of the bargain.¡± Azarelle cut in. ¡°Speaking of which. You still haven¡¯t been entirely clear about what you want us to do.¡± Valis went to a chair and sat down. ¡°I¡¯m still waiting for my plan to be approved. But don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m confident it will be; otherwise they wouldn¡¯t have sent the first shipment.¡± ¡°First shipment?¡± ¡°These crates represent only half of the components you requested. My orders will arrive with the second half in another couple of days. I¡¯ll send for you when they¡¯ve arrived. Until then, consider these a gift from the government of Tormar.¡± Polly furrowed her brow. She turned to Azarelle. ¡°We can¡¯t keep these at your place. Rias and the others will find out.¡± Her friend was right. Disguised or not, the sudden appearance of a mountain of magical materiel would be impossible to explain away. They¡¯d been buying supplies, but they hadn¡¯t given her that much money.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°Do you know somewhere we can keep them?¡± Polly scrunched up her cheek. ¡°Maybe. They certainly won¡¯t fit at my place, but I can probably find somewhere bigger to squat.¡± She turned to Valis. ¡°Can we leave these here for a few hours?¡± He nodded. ¡°Of course. We¡¯re all on the same side now.¡± Azarelle frowned. She didn¡¯t like the sound of that phrase. Valis had delivered on his word, but there remained something about the man that made him impossible to trust. They left. Polly waited to talk until they were down the street. She kept her voice down, even though there was almost no one around. Fewer and fewer people lately. Just another grim reminder. ¡°You¡¯re still comfortable with this?¡± Azarelle took a long breath. In truth, she didn¡¯t know. ¡°I¡¯ll have a better idea once he tells us his plan.¡± Polly frowned. ¡°We¡¯ll be into it pretty deep by then. If Rias finds out, or Lon, or any of them¡­we¡¯re dead.¡± ¡°Lon will let me explain.¡± ¡°Rias won¡¯t.¡± Azarelle was forced to agree. ¡°Just get the supplies tucked away somewhere. In a few days we¡¯ll make our decision. If there¡¯s no hope for the city, we¡¯ll help him; otherwise, we¡¯ll turn him over to the Jaspers and that will be that.¡± Polly nodded slowly. ¡°Alright. A few more days.¡± They kept walking. Azarelle changed the subject. ¡°Any word from your alchemist friend?¡± Polly gave her a sidelong glance. ¡°She said to give her some time. I figured I¡¯d swing by in a day or two.¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°A few more days it is then, for both of us.¡± Polly looked away. She wasn¡¯t convinced. II. ¡°I¡¯m not convinced.¡± Nathanius leaned forward. ¡°Come on, Lon. You know me.¡± ¡°I do.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been with you since the beginning. We worked together for goodness sake. I helped you take this town. You and your brothers.¡± Lon leaned back. ¡°And then your little fiasco cost us ten-thouand ingots. Do you have any idea how much money that is? We trusted you.¡± ¡°I do, but you and I both know it wasn¡¯t my fault. Not really.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t look that way.¡± ¡°We had bad information.¡± ¡°You mean you had bad information. You know we had to make a deal with him after you ran off.¡± ¡°Food?¡± Lon shook his head. ¡°He wanted a building.¡± Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°He¡¯s still in the city? I figured a man like Del Rossi would have skipped town by now.¡± ¡°He said he wanted good seats.¡± Nathanius rolled his eyes. ¡°Whatever that means.¡± Lon shrugged. ¡°Who can tell what goes through that man¡¯s head. And I don¡¯t care, as long as he keeps his business as far away from ours as possible.¡± They shared a brief laugh. Nathanius looked back over his shoulder. The others were waiting at the next table. They¡¯d used a messenger to contact the Jaspers just in case the whole thing blew up in their faces. He was glad it was Lon who showed up. He was always the most level-headed of the bunch. Still, it was a tall hill to climb. ¡°Lon, you¡¯ve got to put us up. I know Macara bought my debt. You know what I¡¯m capable of. Surely there must be some way I can work off the difference.¡± ¡°And your friends?¡± ¡°More than worth the rations. I know they don¡¯t look like much, but the woman is the best musician I¡¯ve ever seen. She¡¯ll be great for morale, and the man¡­Lon, you have to believe me when I say I¡¯ve never seen anyone fight like him.¡± Lon sipped his drink. He was having coffee. It was probably some of the last in the city. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Nathanius frowned. Time to play the trump card. ¡°We also have a favour from the blind-deaf ladies.¡± Lon lifted an eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡± Nathanius nodded back at Ellyn. ¡°They owe her. It could be useful when the time comes.¡± Lon sat quietly, twisting a tuft of his beard between his thumb and forefinger. ¡°Alright, I might have something for you.¡± Nathanius relaxed for the first time since he¡¯d sat down. ¡°Thank you.¡± Lon shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet. You¡¯re still on the outside. Rias isn¡¯t just going to forgive you.¡± He slid a key across the table and stood up. ¡°This will get you into one of our buildings off the square. Find a room and don¡¯t talk to anyone until I get a chance to smooth things over; then I¡¯ll find some work for you to do.¡± Nathanius stood. ¡°Thank you. You¡¯re a true friend.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re a manipulative son of a bitch, but you¡¯re in luck. That might be just what I need.¡± Nathanius smiled. ¡°What¡¯s the job?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t tell yet. There¡¯s too much in the wind. Just get your stuff together and stay out of trouble. I¡¯ll send for you.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± Lon left. Nathanius went back to the others. ¡°We¡¯re in.¡± Ellyn regarded him sceptically. ¡°He didn¡¯t sound very certain.¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°Lon¡¯s a good guy. He wouldn¡¯t put us up unless he was on board.¡± Asterious raised his hand. ¡°What if he just wants us to stick around so he can kill us later?¡± ¡°I guess he could, but I didn¡¯t get that feeling. We¡¯ve known each other a long time. If he couldn¡¯t help he¡¯d have told us to get out of town. Ellyn frowned. ¡°So we¡¯re just supposed to trust him?¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°For now, yes.¡± He took a breath and picked up the key. It was tied with a bit of string to a marked wooden slat. He knew the building. ¡°Either way, we should keep our heads down for now. Something¡¯s not right.¡± Asterious raised an eyebrow. ¡°What makes you say that?¡± ¡°Something Lon said.¡± They walked out into the street. It was cold and dark. The snow fell thickly from the sky. Nathanius looked up into the freezing wind. Only thin wisps of light shown through the clouds. It was as though someone had painted over the sun. Too much in the wind. Lon didn¡¯t say he couldn¡¯t tell him yet. He said he couldn¡¯t tell. What the hell was going on? III. Valis sat in the dark. A fragment of smooth white stone rested on a cloth in front of him. Its plain appearance concealed its purpose. Great power dwelled within it. He listened. Is it proceeding? He nodded. ¡°It is.¡± The professor must be removed. He shook his head. ¡°I disagree.¡± She has not joined you. ¡°She will do as she¡¯s told. She only awaits instructions.¡± Obedience is not loyalty. ¡°She will see reason.¡± A great force resonated within the stone. It shuddered invisibly, unmoving, as though it had been struck by the fist of gravity itself. It is not your place to make such judgements. ¡°Forgive me.¡± She will choose to fight. He nodded. ¡°She may.¡± Remove her. Valis paused. This was always a possibility. It was the reason he delayed reporting in. The gods were difficult to satisfy. They did not suffer mortal concerns And they did not take risks. There was only one answer. ¡°It will be done.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #22: Recognition Exiles Issue #22 ¡°Recognition¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright November 2nd, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°Are you ready?¡± Ellyn took a long breath. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her fingertips. She wrung her hands. She¡¯d only been part of the chora for seven months, and they already wanted her to perform? ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Why do they want me?¡± ¡°It¡¯s by special request. Some noble wants you.¡± ¡°But I¡¯ve never performed! How did he even hear about me?¡± ¡°The minstrel said that he heard you on the balcony. You know you¡¯re not supposed to practice in public.¡± Ellyn¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°The minstrel knows?¡± Her friend nodded. Her name was Myra. She was studying the harpsichord. She was also human, an oddity in an elven chora. The war was still fresh in the national memory. Gelande and Sylarea had fought bitterly, and there was still plenty of bad blood. Ellyn played the guitar. She and Myra had joined the chora at the same time. They practiced together almost every day. ¡°Am I in trouble?¡± Myra frowned. ¡°He¡¯s really angry. I heard one of the journeymen say they were going to release you.¡± What!? Ellyn panicked. ¡°Release me!? That can¡¯t be! I just got here.¡± ¡°You know how competitive the houses are. They spy on each other constantly.¡± Ellyn started to cry. ¡°I didn¡¯t think anyone would hear. I wasn¡¯t even practicing a house piece.¡± Myra hugged her around the shoulders. ¡°I guess it doesn¡¯t matter.¡± This couldn¡¯t be happening. Her father had worked so hard to buy her place. How could face him if she was sent home in disgrace? How could she go home at all? ¡°What am I going to do?¡± Myra knelt down beside her. ¡°It¡¯s going to be alright. That nobleman has already come all the way here, and he¡¯s asked for you.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°So?¡± ¡°You obviously made an impression. Maybe he¡¯ll hire you.¡± Ellyn looked at her guitar. It wasn¡¯t anything special. Her journeyman teachers called it a ¡°knock-around guitar.¡± The tone wasn¡¯t as pure as the music made by the finer pieces the house masters employed. She looked up at Myra. ¡°Will you sing with me?¡± She shook her head. Her brown locks tumbled across her forehead and shimmered in the light of the dim lamps behind the stage. She was the first human Ellyn had ever met. The masters said her voice was too strong and deep to use in the choir. They preferred higher, softer pitches. They said they were more ¡°quintessentially elven.¡± It was sad. Ellyn always found Myra¡¯s voice to be comforting and beautiful. It reminded her of home. She answered. ¡°I wish I could.¡± Ellyn frowned. Her friend stood up and embraced her around the shoulders. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯re going to do great, and I¡¯ll be right here watching.¡± ¡°What if the noble doesn¡¯t like me?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Ellyn.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± She gave her a kiss on the cheek. ¡°But why?¡± Myra smiled. ¡°You¡¯re impossible not to like.¡± II. Asterious shook her. ¡°Ellyn?¡± She snapped out of her dream. It was a rude awakening. Once more she found herself on Kalkonu, robbed. Asterious put a hand on her forehead. ¡°Are you alright?¡± They were sitting backstage, if it could be called a stage. It was a biggish closet adjacent to a low wooden dais in the Jaspers¡¯ dining room. She was about to audition. Her place in the house depended on it. She shook Asterious off. ¡°I¡¯m fine. I was just¡­thinking about someplace else. That¡¯s all.¡± He nodded. ¡°Happier times?¡± She sighed. ¡°I suppose so.¡± Asterious¡¯s place was already secure. They¡¯d tested him against their heaviest muscle. He¡¯d made them look like fools. The brothers had been impressed. Rias, Alto, Kiel, Wess, and Lon. She¡¯d memorized their names so she could greet them when she took the stage. Rias was the oldest, and tall. Alto was blonde. Kiel was missing his right eye. Wess had long hair, and Lon was the youngest. Or was it Kiel that had the long hair? Crap. ¡°Which one has the long hair?¡± Asterious put a hand to his forehead, thinking. ¡°Wess.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± He straightened up. ¡°You¡¯re going to be fine. These guys haven¡¯t heard music like yours in their whole lives. Just play like you did back at the Notch. You¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°What if they don¡¯t like it?¡± He smiled. ¡°Not possible.¡± Ellyn looked up at him. ¡°Are you ever not confident?¡± He laughed. ¡°Well if you¡¯re looking for criticism, you could smile more.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°You could be less annoying.¡± He grinned and thumped her shoulder lightly with his fist. ¡°You know, for someone with your kind of attitude, you don¡¯t trust yourself very much.¡± She frowned. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­made mistakes.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Me too.¡± ¡°How do you deal with it?¡± He went to the door. ¡°Want to know the secret?¡± She smiled weakly. ¡°It¡¯d be nice.¡± He put his hand on the knob and turned it; then he paused. ¡°You really want to know?¡± She nodded. He opened the door. The light of the room crept in, framing his narrow silhouette. He looked at the floor. ¡°I do it the same way.¡± She didn¡¯t know what to say. He turned to her and smiled. ¡°Now, get off your butt.¡± ¡°I beg your pardon.¡± He held out a hand. ¡°The show must go on, right?¡± She grabbed her guitar and stood up. ¡°No one says that anymore.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m old fashioned.¡± ¡°Or maybe just old.¡± He laughed. ¡°You have no idea.¡± III. Azarelle sat in her chair. Lon sat beside her, frowning. He hadn¡¯t said a word all night. She glanced at him sideways. His eyes were fixed ahead. She put a hand on his. ¡°Is something wrong?¡± He barely moved. ¡°No.¡± There was. It was obvious, and she couldn¡¯t escape the sinking feeling that it was her. He¡¯d been like this ever since their ¡°date.¡± She¡¯d thought it had gone well, at least on the surface. Something must have happened. Rias was watching her. She¡¯d caught a few glances. He was sitting at the other end of the row. The other brothers were seated as well, between them, along with another man, half-elven and younger. They hadn¡¯t been introduced. She suppressed a yawn. It had been a busy day. The Jaspers had spent it sifting through the last of the people in the house, culling the herd before the long night. They¡¯d let go as few as possible, although it wasn¡¯t out of compassion. They wanted to preserve their base of power, and every person they let go would eventually become their enemy. Most of the cuts were servants and craftsmen who wouldn¡¯t cause a fuss. They¡¯d kept almost all of the guards. After that they launched the lottery. It was Rias¡¯s idea. It didn¡¯t cost money to enter. You just had to be willing to fight. Word of the invasion had begun to spread. They needed an army, but they couldn¡¯t afford to feed it for long. They planned to draft the whole city into their reserves, mustering them at the last possible moment. Most would die. Those that survived the conflict would have their names entered into a lottery to gain entry into the house. The more enemies you killed, the more entries you earned. It was brilliant. If the syndicate fell, no one would get anything. Every soldier on the battlefield would have a vested interest. They would fight as hard as they could, and it wouldn¡¯t cost the Jaspers a dime until it was all over. Still, she¡¯d literally seen the writing on the wall. A ramshackle militia of criminals and thieves didn¡¯t stand a chance against the grave armies of Tormar, walking dead soldiers that required neither sustenance nor rest. It was almost a foregone conclusion that she would take Valis¡¯s deal, whatever his plan entailed. Whatever feelings she had for Lon, she had to survive and complete her work, and if there was one lesson her time at the university had taught her, it was that you could never have everything you wanted. This was the last interview of the day, a musician. They wanted her for morale. It wasn¡¯t a bad idea. Azarelle had been asked to attend. She wasn¡¯t sure why. Maybe Lon was trying to keep up appearances. Or maybe he hadn¡¯t given up. She frowned. It tore her apart to wound him so. The door by the stage opened. A man came out, followed by an elven woman with a guitar. Azarelle¡¯s eyes went wide. She leaned forward. Could it be? She looked around. Where was the third? The Jaspers new associate? No. Too young. Where was the old man? She growled in her head. This was why she hated augury. Nothing ever came through as clearly as you needed. She turned back to the stage. The resemblance was unmistakeable. The woman. She¡¯d seen her before, at the end of the premonition. Right before the gods arrived. Lon turned to look at her. ¡°Is something wrong? Do you know them?¡± Azarelle shook her head. She sat back and answered. ¡°No.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #23: Anachronism Exiles Issue #23 ¡°Anachronism¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright November 3rd, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Polly paced. ¡°You¡¯re sure it was them?¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°There¡¯s no way to be completely sure. Augury isn¡¯t exact.¡± ¡°But you recognized the girl?¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°I did. And she did bring two others with her.¡± Polly continued her circuit, back and forth across the room. If she kept it up she was going to wear a hole in the carpet. ¡°But I¡¯ve seen them. They¡¯re all our age. I thought you said there was supposed to be an old man.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I saw, but it might have been an artefact.¡± Polly stopped. ¡°A what?¡± ¡°An artefact, a distortion of the real content of the augury. They¡¯re caused by defects in the spell. The subconscious fills in the gap. All sorts of images can get pulled in.¡± ¡°You mean you might have messed up?¡± Azarelle gave her a stern look. ¡°I did not ¡®mess up.¡¯ Thank you very much. The conditions for the spell were terrible.¡± She leaned back against her headboard. It was piled with pillows. ¡°That or one of them is a lot older than they look.¡± Polly gave a sceptical look. ¡°They looked pretty young to me.¡± Azarelle shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s magic that could do it.¡± Polly raised an eyebrow. ¡°Stop you getting older?¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°Magic can¡¯t prolong life, at least none that I¡¯ve ever heard of.¡± ¡°Think it was an illusion?¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe. It doesn¡¯t seem like it.¡± ¡°So what do we do?¡± Azarelle took a breath. ¡°I¡¯m meeting with Valis tomorrow to pick up the rest of our supplies. I¡¯ll get the details of his plan.¡± ¡°What about me?¡± ¡°You check in with your friend about those potions. Then we¡¯ll meet up and decide if we stick with him or not.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Polly hopped up into the chair. ¡°I really hope it turns out he¡¯s full of crap. Then we can turn him over to Lon and forget about all this.¡± Azarelle nodded, frowning. ¡°Me too.¡± It was a nice idea; it just wasn¡¯t likely, and it didn¡¯t change the fact that if she wanted to have any hope of finding a way home, Valis was the better bet. ¡°How are things going with him?¡± Azarelle looked up. ¡°With Lon?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± She let out a long breath. ¡°Not well. I think he might suspect something, and I¡¯ve been getting a lot of strange looks from his brothers.¡± Polly lowered her voice. ¡°You think they know what we¡¯re doing?¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. If they did they would have done something.¡± ¡°Yeah, like kill us.¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°I¡¯m hoping it¡¯s just because we¡¯ve been moving around a lot more than usual. Money is changing hands and we¡¯re meeting with people they don¡¯t know. It makes sense for them to be suspicious. All we can do is hope we get what we need before the situation gets any worse.¡± Polly frowned. ¡°I wish we didn¡¯t have to do all this. You¡¯re sure we have to?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the prudent thing to do.¡± Her friend slumped forward onto the table. ¡°I guess so.¡± Azarelle looked out through the frosted glass of the window. It hadn¡¯t stopped snowing since yesterday. There were already a few inches on the ground. The streets were empty. ¡°There¡¯s one thing we do know.¡± Polly looked over. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°If those people are the ones from the augury, we¡¯re running out of time.¡± II. ¡°He did what?!¡± Ellyn threw up her arms. ¡°I don¡¯t know! He just said he was going out!¡± ¡°Where?¡± ¡°He didn¡¯t say.¡± ¡°Of all the idiotic!¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t yell at me. It¡¯s not like I could have stopped him.¡± Nathanius rubbed his forehead. ¡°Lon told us to sit tight. We just got here. This is just the kind of thing that¡¯ll get us thrown right back out.¡± ¡°Well, what do you want me to do?¡± Nathanius took a breath. ¡°Nothing. Just¡­stay here. I¡¯ll go talk to Lon. They liked your music, by the way.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good to hear. Now what about you?¡± ¡°Lon seemed to have something in mind for me. He¡¯ll let me know.¡± Ellyn gave him a sceptical look. ¡°You don¡¯t sound very sure.¡± Nathanius scrunched up his mouth. ¡°There¡¯s something happening in the city¡­maybe even in the syndicate itself. The Jaspers have always been a little paranoid, but the tension around here is just too damn high.¡± ¡°What do you think it is?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Something just feels¡­off, but I can¡¯t talk to anybody until Lon lets me off the leash. I¡¯m hoping that¡¯ll be this afternoon.¡± ¡°You¡¯re meeting him?¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°For lunch. It¡¯s strange. He wants to meet out in the city.¡± ¡°What¡¯s so strange about that?¡± ¡°I already said how paranoid they are. It would be safer to take a meeting at home.¡± Ellyn picked up her guitar and strummed. She started tuning it. ¡°Well, be careful.¡± He nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best. In the meantime you keep an ear to the ground. They¡¯ll have you playing for the house. Get to know the staff. Maybe someone knows something.¡± He went to leave. Ellyn called after him. ¡°What about Asterious?¡± He frowned. ¡°Just cross your fingers and pray he doesn¡¯t get us all killed.¡± III. Asterious walked. It was colder than usual. Odd. Of course the weather was always an adjustment. The last time he¡¯d been in the desert. Never quite managed to make it out. Still, it had been a nice change of pace. Life as a nomad was peaceful, if a little dull. They¡¯d found a way to end it: fighting over water. He¡¯d guessed it years earlier, the moment his tribe had decided to stop roaming and settled by that oasis. After that it had only been a matter of time. Fate. Difficult to deny. Easy to predict. At least for him. After so many violent ends, he¡¯d come to the realization that there were only so many ways to kill a man. This time would be¡­political conflict. Probably. It was actually kind of hard to tell, which was unusual given his experience on the subject. Maybe it was the unfamiliar setting. He hadn¡¯t visited Kalkonu in¡­two, three lifetimes? They still hadn¡¯t changed the name. It was funny. After so many centuries the only conclusion he¡¯d been able to come to about the evolution of the world was that there was no telling what would stick. Waltzing, for example. Hadn¡¯t expected that. At least he was between wars this time. That was nice. By his reckoning more than ninety years had come and gone since his last visit. Someone must have lived a good, long life. He smiled. Good for them. Visits. That¡¯s what he had come to call them. It was the best way. No long-term attachments. Just checking in on things. Were the monuments still standing? Were the nations the same? Were the old watering holes still around¡ªunder new management of course. Always under new management. Those were the rules. Selapak was the same as it ever was. Cold. Dreary. No fun at all. He¡¯d visited a few times. Never for more than a year. There were too many ways to get into trouble. He had to get his bearings. After so much time the landscape had changed quite a bit, but the major points of interest were still there. Misery, for example. It was still around. Even had the same name. Gold star for Misery. The central valley of the continent, the Hral¡ªwhich he noted no one called it anymore¡ªremained the only habitable territory. It was, of course, under new management. Asterious looked slowly back and forth. The streets had moved since his last visit. There must have been a huge fire. He did his best to guess his position using the mouth of the river that fed the lake. Once upon a time they¡¯d called it the Snow Run. Now it was the Whitecourse. It traversed nearly half the central valley, all the way to what the people were now calling Tormar. He walked along the shore. Three hundred paces. Then he turned, moving into some sort of fishing district. It was amazing there were still fish to be caught. The Kahut was a wreck. Same name though. Four-hundred paces. It would be on the right. His path brought him to the door of a small, square dwelling, one of many extending in a long grey row from the wharf. The windows were all boarded up. There would be a barricade behind the door. Asterious looked around. The street was dark. The sun had set. Only a few lingering orange rays broke free from the horizon, tracing across the sky like a breath of distant fire. No one would be wasting fuel on light. Not now. Not when the number of daylight hours before the night could be counted on one hand. He knocked on the door. No one answered. Asterious frowned. They would have to repair their barricade. He¡¯d help them fix it after. Right now he had to get inside. With a grunt he threw himself against the door. Once, twice, three times. The barricade buckled and the door pushed open a crack. A frightened face appeared in the gap. It was a man. He looked to be in his mid-fifties. Old, for Kalkonu. He spoke in a harsh whisper. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything. Please go away.¡± Asterious shook his head and held out a bag. Leftovers from lunch. ¡°It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m not here to rob you. Here. I just need a minute.¡± The face disappeared. A wrinkled hand reached out and snatched up the bag. It disappeared inside. He heard chewing. ¡°What do you want?¡± Asterious leaned in close. ¡°This is going to sound a little strange, but I used to live here.¡± The face reappeared. ¡°Impossible. You¡¯re a kid. I¡¯ve lived here longer than you¡¯ve even been alive.¡± Asterious laughed. ¡°You¡¯re probably right, but there is something here for me. Please, I need to get into the basement.¡± The man shook his head. ¡°Now I know you¡¯re lying. I don¡¯t even have a basement.¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #24: Burrow Exiles Issue #24 ¡°Burrow¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright December 26th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The conversation hadn¡¯t gone exactly as he¡¯d hoped. Nathanius retraced his steps back to the apartment, shifting along the snow-bound edges of Selapak¡¯s narrow streets. His boots crunched. There were no tracks to step in. Only those with urgent business bothered to go out this late in the year. He checked the position of the sun, struggling low on the horizon. The long night would arrive soon. A week. Perhaps two. And a crisis alongside. Lon had only revealed enough for him to begin. Tormar was preparing to invade. The Jaspers¡¯ recently-acquired in-house sorcerer¡ªan elvish academic from Sylarea¡ªhad foreseen it some weeks ago. Since then they had been expending every effort to muster a defence, not an easy task this close to the night, and there was a problem. Actually, there were two. The first problem was that the enemy had someone inside. It was his job was to find out who. The second and by far more dangerous problem was that from the way Lon was talking about it, Nathanius was pretty sure his old friend already knew who it was. He just didn¡¯t like the answer. And if he knew, his brothers knew. The investigation was a sham. Lon was stalling, and that meant there was no good end to this little mole hunt. At least it was his kind of assignment. A few days and nights and he would be at the bottom of it. He¡¯d report his findings to Lon and let him and his brothers handle the rest. He unlocked their room. Ellyn was right where he left her, practicing guitar on her bed. Asterious was still unaccounted for. Nathanius lay down across the room. It had two beds. Ellyn took the first. He and Asterious alternated for the other. It was Asterious¡¯s turn, but he wasn¡¯t around so¡­ Ellyn looked up. ¡°How did it go?¡± He stared up at the ceiling. ¡°Alright.¡± ¡°Just¡­alright?¡± He nodded. ¡°Lon thinks they¡¯ve got a turncoat. He wants me to find them. I think he already knows, which means it¡¯s a giant waste of time. I don¡¯t suppose you heard anything.¡± She shook her head. ¡°They never sent for me. I guess everybody¡¯s busy.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll want to make yourself available in the main house. The more visible you are, the more likely someone will ask you to play. Try to make yourself seem indispensable. ¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°I am indispensable.¡± He chuckled. ¡°No kidding.¡± The conversation lapsed. Ellyn started plucking out a tune. Nathanius listened quietly. Her music really was quite beautiful, and there was something familiar about the tune that cheered his commonly solemn mood.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. He leaned up. ¡°You know a lot of Sylarean music.¡± She nodded. ¡°I learned in the chora.¡± ¡°The capital?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Lunetri.¡± He nodded. ¡°Lot of old families there.¡± ¡°Did you grow up in the capital?¡± He laughed. ¡°No, I grew up in Myle. Do you know it?¡± She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s nothing special. Not much more than a caravel stop for shore-runners and spice merchants.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t sound like you miss it.¡± He smiled and lay back down. ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t say that.¡± There was another pause. She started playing again. This time it had a jaunty beat. He chuckled. ¡°Trying to cheer me up?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Play to your audience.¡± ¡°Keep it up and you¡¯ll be known all over Kalkonu.¡± She shot him a wry grin. ¡°At long last, my dreams of fame and fortune have come true.¡± He laughed. ¡°Well, at least you can take credit for getting us all this far.¡± She kept playing. ¡°I don¡¯t know about that. If it weren¡¯t for Asterious, we probably all would have died back in Misery, and if it weren¡¯t for you I¡¯m sure we¡¯d have been stranded somewhere else. There¡¯s plenty of credit to go around.¡± Nathanius thought back to their first night on the trail. ¡°You remember that night in the holdfast outside Misery, when Asterious said we would be fine as long as we stuck together.¡± She chuckled and pulled her hair back into a rough tail, mimicking their friend¡¯s expression. ¡°We¡¯ve got the three of us. No one else can say that.¡± Nathanius laughed. ¡°Do you think this is what he was talking about?¡± She gave him a sceptical look. ¡°I don¡¯t think he thinks that far ahead.¡± Nathanius frowned. ¡°I suppose not.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure. The more he learned about him, the more he discovered that Asterious was a man of many questions. No one could survive long in the world thinking and acting the way he seemed to, and yet meanwhile, all around him, things just seemed to¡­come together. Was it luck, or was it him? Well if it was luck, they would be needing a whole lot more soon enough. ¡°But you trust him?¡± Ellyn lay down. ¡°Gotta trust something.¡± Nathanius chuckled. Asterious¡¯s words. He went to sleep. II. Polly marched. The snow came up to her knees, but she only had to make it a few more blocks; then she could put her feet up. Her friend had moved out of her place in the merchant¡¯s quarter. It would be too dangerous to stay there through the night. The whole city knew that there was food, fuel, and magic there. If you stuck around you were just asking to get robbed and murdered in the dark. It was safer on the outskirts of the city, if you could find someplace secure. Or make one. Her friend had bricked herself into a third-floor walk-up in one of the denser blocks of the city¡¯s twisting slums. As long as the building didn¡¯t catch fire she would be alright. The two of them had met by chance. Polly had been tossed out of her own shelter, the third time in as many years. Nobody kept a thief around when was nothing left to steal. She¡¯d sought shelter from roving gangs in the endless maze of Selapak¡¯s lower residences. At the end of her rope and freezing, she¡¯d outrun a pack of wild dogs by climbing up to an abandoned fire-escape. She¡¯d planned to die there. But at least she wouldn¡¯t be eaten. The wind whipping across her perch would have finished her off in a matter of hours. She¡¯d hoped to be asleep for most of it. Imagine her surprise when the wall behind her opened to reveal a friendly face. Ninah was a Halfling too, about her own age, with blonde hair and a bright, round face. She was an apothecary by trade, sent up for poisoning the son-in-law of her liege lord in Gelande. She said she didn¡¯t do it. They¡¯d spent the rest of the winter together. It was a kindness that Polly would never forget. Here they were, a year later, and it was happening all over again, another turn of the brutal and endless cycle. The long night was coming, crisis was in the air, and the bosses were cutting staff. She¡¯d survived the first cull, but the night was long, and she was through pinning her hopes on her employers. Azarelle had a plan. One way or another, the two of them were going to survive, and if need be, Polly would take Ninah with them. She knocked on the floor. The doors and windows gone, bricked shut and plastered over. It looked just like an empty hall, but just like last year her friend had rigged a hidden entrance and exit from her warren, in case of emergency. This time it was a couple of loose boards. You could use the space between the joists to wriggle in under the ¡°wall.¡± A voice whispered. ¡°Polly?¡± She whispered back. ¡°It¡¯s me.¡± She heard something slide. Polly took a quick look back down the hall, leaned down, popped the floorboard loose, and scuttled in. The apartment was warm. Her friend had a stove in the middle of the floor. The walls were covered in heavy wool blankets for insulation. It was like a mouse hole. There was a pile of dried food, a table against the wall for work, and a bed in the corner heaped with the same fluff that covered the walls. Her friend helped pull her up through the floor. She kicked the snow off her boots. Ninah went to the stove. ¡°Tea?¡± Polly nodded. ¡°Please.¡± She reached into her pack and drew out a few bundles of salt-packed fish and dried meat, leftovers from the first wave of Valis¡¯s supplies. She handed them over. Ninah took them. ¡°Where¡¯d you get these?¡± Polly sat by the stove. ¡°A new friend.¡± ¡°The same one who gave you this?¡± Ninah held up the potion she¡¯d filched from Valis. Polly nodded. ¡°The same. And I didn¡¯t say he gave it to me.¡± Ninah went to the wall and slid open a narrow wooden panel. It led to the outside, where she¡¯d nailed a flower box to the wall. She stuck out a hand and brushed in a pile of snow to fill the kettle. She sat down. Polly took the bottle from her. ¡°So was I right? Is it a potion?¡± Her friend shook her head. ¡°If it is, it¡¯s not like any magic that I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± ¡°You meant you haven¡¯t figured it out? I thought you said you were the best?¡± Her friend turned and gave her a flat look. Polly relented. ¡°Okay, okay. I know you¡¯re the best. How much longer?¡± Ninah shrugged. ¡°A few days. Right now all I can tell you is that it isn¡¯t an enchantment and it isn¡¯t poison.¡± The kettle started to boil. Her friend poured them each a cup. The tea smelled like wood. Polly drank it. ¡°Wooly pine?¡± Ninah nodded. ¡°It was all anybody had left. I made my last trades two days ago. I¡¯m hibernating from here out, once I finish your job, of course.¡± Polly slurped down her tea. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it then.¡± Ninah gave her a hug on the way out. Polly heard the same bolt slide into place as she wriggled back out into the hall. Ninah would be fine. Polly made her way outside. One or two loose ends left, but there was still time. Az was meeting with Valis. Tonight they would decide their next move. Done and dusted. A shadow shifted as she went out the door. Ambush. Move. Polly turned and ran as a pair of arms reached out from the darkness behind her, missing her by inches. She looked back. There were two. She took off down the street. An arm swept out from an alley in front of her. She tried to duck, but it was too late. The limb caught her in the chest like a swung log, driving the wind out of her. She coughed and fell back into the snow. They¡¯d been waiting for her. A gloved hand closed over her mouth. She squirmed, gave a muffled scream, and went still. There was a knife against her throat. They dragged her into the alley and through an open door, pulling her down a hall into an empty room. Her thoughts raced. A chair. A table. A single candle. Dark silhouettes inhabited every corner. She didn¡¯t need to imagine the horrors. In her time she¡¯d lived through them all. A tall figure detached from the shadows and approached. The candle gave light to his dark face. Polly looked up. Shit. ¡°Rias.¡± The eldest Jasper nodded. ¡°Sit.¡± She did. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #25: Awful Truth Exiles Issue #25 ¡°Awful Truth¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright December 27th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Azarelle rolled the paper out on the table. ¡°This is it.¡± Polly looked. ¡°This?¡± She nodded. Polly looked at the drawing. It was some kind of jewellery made from silver and bone. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°You mean what are they?¡± ¡°There¡¯s more than one?¡± Az nodded. ¡°They¡¯re enchanted medallions that allow the clerics of Tormar to control their undead soldiers. The Jaspers have been stealing them all year, using their connections to smuggle them out of the city-state. Supposedly they have about a dozen, kept safe in a vault hidden somewhere in the house, just in case Tormar ever became a problem. They plan to use them to disrupt the enemy army. Valis wants us to steal them.¡± ¡°So he can use them?¡± She shook her head. ¡°He doesn¡¯t need them. Tormar has plenty of their own. He just doesn¡¯t want the Jaspers using them during the fight.¡± Polly regarded the sketch of the amulet. It certainly looked like other enchanted objects she¡¯d stolen in her time. ¡°Wait. If the Jaspers have got these¡­things, can¡¯t they win? Doesn¡¯t this mean we should turn Valis in?¡± Azarelle sat back. ¡°Sadly not. Their army is large enough to win either way. Doing this will just minimize Tormar¡¯s losses during the invasion. He also said that if the losses are low enough, Tormar will be able to maintain order during the long night. Helping them might actually save lives. Of course, he might have been saying that for my benefit.¡± Polly frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t trust him.¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right. We need a backup plan of our own. Otherwise we could get to the end of this and discover we have no friends at all.¡± Polly picked up the paper. ¡°The Jaspers never mentioned having anything like this.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s not exactly the sort of thing you¡¯d talk about.¡± ¡°So how does Valis know about it?¡± Azarelle shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. He¡¯s a spy. I guess it¡¯s his job.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Seems pretty fishy.¡± Azarelle got up from the table and went to the window. It was already dark out. Lately the days were over in a flash. Rumour around the house was that Tormar had moved into the farmland surrounding the city. The invasion could come any day. ¡°It¡¯s our only choice. The only other option is to tell Lon, pray he and his brothers forgive us, and leave our fate in their hands.¡± Polly looked down at the drawing. She wasn¡¯t sure she liked that idea either. ¡°What about those people who showed up the other day? You said they were supposed to help us. Do you think it was about this?¡± She held up the sketch. Azarelle shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But we are going to need. The Jaspers are all on edge. I think they know something¡¯s going on.¡± Polly suppressed a chuckle. No kidding. ¡°And what if they tell Lon what we¡¯re up to.¡± Azarelle looked out. Shadows moved from alley to alley, flitting across the darkened street. Only her elven eyes picked up the movement. There was no light anymore. In the distance she heard a scream in the murk. She answered. ¡°Then we¡¯re dead.¡± II. Ellyn sat in the main hall. It was as good a place as any to attract attention. The household staff came and went at regular intervals, on their way to and from the kitchen, the bunks, the storage rooms, and the armoury. It was a busy place, not unlike the noble house she¡¯d served back home, only quite as clean. She played whatever came to mind. The people listened as they passed. Now and then they would grab a seat when they took a break to drink or nibble on hard bread. There were certainly worse ways to spend the winter. And then of course, there was her other task. So far nobody was saying much. She¡¯d managed to get a little scuttlebutt out of the kitchen staff when she¡¯d slipped away to the back for a drink and a biscuit. The cook had given her beer. He trusted it more than the water. According to him, the invasion had already begun. Tormar was advancing west from their territory and into the outlying farmland that fed Selapak in the summer. It was only a matter of time before they made a final push toward the city. No good. Nathanius would already know all that, and the house¡¯s internal politics were proving far more elusive. The only thing she¡¯d been able to determine was that the Jaspers were fairly certain that someone in the house was working for the enemy, and they already had a few ideas about who it was. A door opened and Asterious stepped inside. He¡¯d returned in the afternoon, having spent the whole night and most of the day out in the city accomplishing¡­something. He didn¡¯t say what it was. He sat down. There was a melancholy air about him when he finally spoke. ¡°What¡¯s the oldest song you know?¡± Ellyn thought it over. ¡°Why do you ask?¡± He leaned on the table. ¡°No reason.¡± She smiled. He always seemed to be up to something. The only reason he got away with it was the fact that his mischief generally worked out. She picked up her guitar. ¡°It¡¯s a church piece. I don¡¯t know the name.¡± ¡°A church piece?¡± She nodded. ¡°I learned it my third week in the chora. It was given to me by a¡­friend.¡± ¡°I thought church music was banned.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not banned. It¡¯s just not very fashionable.¡± He came to a nearer seat. ¡°Can I hear it?¡± She shrugged. ¡°If you like.¡± He waited quietly while she adjusted the tuning on her guitar. The song used an older scale. The masters hardly taught it anymore. She started playing. Like most of the old church pieces, the song began on a low and sombre note. The tempo was slow and lamenting. There were no words, but nonetheless the melody told of the loss of something precious that could never be regained. The notes were a family in mourning. Asterious listened intently, eyes half-closed. As the piece progressed the movements changed, becoming slowly glad, until by the final movement the instrument in her hands practically cried out with joy. It was only in the final coda that the composition returned to its original aspect, remembering its sadness at the last moment before passing into silence. Asterious took a long breath and sighed. ¡°Thank you. That was beautiful.¡± Ellyn set the guitar aside. ¡°It sounds like you¡¯ve heard it before.¡± He nodded. ¡°I did. A long time ago.¡± Ellyn sat back. ¡°You know, for someone so young, you talk an awful lot about the good-old days.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Trust me. There was nothing good about them.¡± She lifted an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± He went to the door. About to answer, he appeared to catch himself before he responded. ¡°Nothing. Forget it. Thank you for the music.¡± He left. Ellyn muttered. ¡°No problem.¡± III. They met up that night. Lon still had them cooped up in the outbuilding around the corner from the house. Nathanius hated the walk back from the mansion. It was pitch black, carrying a light only made you more of a target, and the authority of the syndicate only extended so far into the dark. The others were already back. Asterious was in the corner, cleaning his fingernails with a knife. Ellyn rested on her pillow, leaning against the wall. She had a sheet of paper in her hands. Nathanius looked over. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± She looked up. ¡°Just some music.¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re composing now?¡± She nodded absently. ¡°I used to do it all the time. Now that we¡¯ve got a place to stay, I thought I might pick it back up.¡± Nathanius sat down and pulled off his boots. ¡°Did you learn anything today?¡± She told him. It lined up broadly with what he¡¯d already managed to gather. He frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t like this.¡± Asterious chuckled. ¡°You¡¯ve said that already.¡± Nathanius sighed and lay on the floor. ¡°Well, it hasn¡¯t changed.¡± Ellyn looked over. ¡°Did you find out anything?¡± ¡°About the same as you. Lon thinks they¡¯ve got a mole. So do the others. Rias thinks he knows who it is already, but the two of them don¡¯t exactly see eye-to-eye.¡± Ellyn set her papers aside and lay down. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll keep looking.¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ll have to do more than that.¡± Asterious looked up. ¡°How do you figure?¡± ¡°Everything we¡¯ve done so far is based on the assumption that Lon and his brothers are the best bet to get us through the winter. If their position isn¡¯t as solid as we thought¡ª¡± ¡°You mean you thought.¡± A fair jab. He nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll need a backup plan.¡± Ellyn leaned up onto her elbows. ¡°Do you have one?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°Not yet.¡± Ellyn rolled back over. ¡°Great.¡± A board creaked down the hall outsidel. Asterious looked up and reached for his weapons. Nathanius heard it too and turned. The sound drew closer, making a poor effort to be silent. Asterious held up a hand, switching back and forth between one and two fingers. Nathanius shut his eyes and listened. He held up one. Whoever it was, they were alone. Asterious nodded and crept to one side of the door. Nathanius went to the other, waiting for the crash. It never came. No one kicked in the door. There was no ambush. Whoever it was, they knocked. They all looked at each other in puzzlement. Asterious lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. Nathanius shrugged back. They opened the door. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #26: Visiting Hours Exiles Issue #26 ¡°Visiting Hours¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright December 27th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Polly stood quietly. Rias sat at his desk, listening to a report whispered into his ear. Like any self-respecting organized crime family, the Jaspers rarely wrote anything down. They continued the practice even in this lawless part of the world. Old habits. The servant left. Rias turned to face her. ¡°Well?¡± She took a breath. She was a master thief, but a poor liar. ¡°Nothing, yet.¡± She tried to place the emphasis on the ¡°yet.¡± Rias stood up. Polly braced herself. ¡°You were given a second chance for a reason. Do you know what that reason was?¡± Polly tried not to shake. Rias could order her death on a whim. She¡¯d betrayed the syndicate and she¡¯d been caught. Everything after that was borrowed time. He seemed to know everything they¡¯d been up to: She and Azarelle, Valis¡¯s apartment, the meetings, everything. And if he knew, the others knew for sure. It was amazing they were still alive. Polly suspected that Lon had intervened on Azarelle¡¯s behalf. As for her¡­well, she had a job to do. Rias wanted to know the details of what Valis was planning. He¡¯d given her three days to find out. Polly had already learned the answer, but if she gave it up she and Azarelle would both have outlived their usefulness. She¡¯d decided to stall, hoping her friend would come up with something in the meantime. She hadn¡¯t told her. There was no reason to stress her out, yet. Rias was still waiting for an answer. ¡°You needed information.¡± He corrected her. ¡°Need. We need information. You were supposed to get it.¡± ¡°I am getting it. I just need more time. That¡¯s all.¡± He shrugged and came around the desk. ¡°I gave you three days.¡± He leaned down into her face. ¡°One down.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. He nodded to the guards and they escorted her out. Maybe Azarelle was right. Maybe the Jaspers were too ruthless to be counted on. Maybe it would be better to help Valis and hope for the best. She took a breath in the hall. What a mess. Azarelle was meeting with the newcomers. If they were lucky the five of them together would be able to get out from under this business. Back home she would have already have left town. When someone gave you two days to live, if you were smart, you used them to get away. She left. Azarelle was right about one thing. They were running out of time. II. They sat on their beds. Azarelle stood by the door. She hadn¡¯t told them about the augury yet. For the moment she was just a concerned academic looking for a few new partners. Still, the vision had been quite clear, especially at the end. The armies of Tormar would conquer the city, the syndicate volunteers would be defeated, Lon and the Jaspers would be killed, and in the end it would be Valis who interceded on their behalf. They would survive. She¡¯d told Polly it wasn¡¯t just about the invasion. She¡¯d told her they needed allies so they¡¯d have a backup plan in case everything went south, but the truth was, the more she thought about the augury, the more she was sure that if they backed Valis their situation would be secure. But to succeed, she would have to convince these people to help. She¡¯d outlined Valis¡¯s plan, though she hadn¡¯t given them his name. Their de-facto leader, a half-elf named Nathanius, now sat at the foot of the bed, hands folded in front of his face, thinking. He¡¯d been sitting like that for more than ten minutes. It was almost a surprise when he spoke. ¡°Why should we believe you?¡± She gave him a stern look. ¡°Why would I lie?¡± He looked up. ¡°This could be a test. Lon might have sent you to test our loyalty. Word around the house is that the two of you are together. I find it hard to believe you would go behind his back.¡± ¡°You¡¯d be surprised.¡± The musician spoke up. Her name was Ellyn. She didn¡¯t know the human¡¯s name yet. ¡°If you¡¯re willing to double-cross him, how do we know you wouldn¡¯t be willing to double-cross us?¡± Azarelle turned to her. ¡°I suppose you don¡¯t, but for the moment we all want the same thing: to be in the best position possible to survive.¡± The human in the corner bobbed his head at Nathanius. ¡°You said we needed a backup plan.¡± Azarelle lifted an eyebrow. Nathanius looked up at her and nodded, grudgingly. ¡°We were discussing it. But having a backup plan is a long way from actively undermining the syndicate. And who¡¯s to say we would be any better off with Tormar?¡± Azarelle answered. ¡°I told you. I¡¯ve been given assurances.¡± ¡°By your friend, I know. The operative. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s trustworthy.¡± ¡°He¡¯s kept to his word so far.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°They always do, until it¡¯s too late.¡± Nathanius thumbed in the musician¡¯s direction. ¡°It¡¯s true. How do you know you¡¯re not being manipulated?¡± Azarelle frowned. Maybe there was no way to avoid telling them. You never knew how people would take an augury. Some believed in it; others ranked it somewhere between snake oil and rain dancing. ¡°I have foreseen it.¡± The human raised an eyebrow. ¡°How?¡± ¡°In an augury. The Jaspers wanted to know whether or not an invasion was on its way. I told them it was.¡± Nathanius leaned forward. ¡°But you didn¡¯t tell them everything.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t, because the whole truth is that they¡¯re going to lose, and we only stand to lose by helping them.¡± Ellyn gave her a sceptical look. ¡°We only have your word on that.¡± Nathanius stood up. ¡°Ellyn¡¯s right. We¡¯ll have to give it some thought, and if we decide to pursue this we¡¯ll need to meet your friend.¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°I think I can arrange that.¡± He opened the door for her. ¡°We¡¯ll talk again. After that, if your story checks out, we¡¯ll see if maybe there¡¯s some way we can help each other.¡± Azarelle left. She¡¯d hoped for more, but they hadn¡¯t said no. She walked confidently back to the house, safely hidden by an enchantment she¡¯d constructed using a portion of Valis¡¯s delivery. The second installment had come. She¡¯d left it at his apartment until Polly could swing by and pick it up. In the meantime, she¡¯d taken away a few choice reagents. Her long cloak now gathered shadows like broom gathered dust. In darkness, she was almost completely invisible. The enchantment would last for months. It would be a late night. She still had to finish the stove for Lon. She chuckled. No rest for the wicked. She just hoped things would go well from here on. Her plans¡ªnot to mention her future¡ªwould not easily withstand another reversal. III. Valis sat back. His trusty viewing lens popped and fizzed as one of its few remaining gems burned out. The meeting at least appeared to have been a success. Azarelle was on her way back to the house. He climbed down from his perch and went inside. Good news. He would soon have more guests. Only two bottles left, but he wouldn¡¯t need them. Azarelle was responding admirably to her new sense of purpose. It had pained him to use the gods¡¯ magic on her, but at least now she was on task. Further, the decision to modify her memory had almost certainly saved her life. His suspicions about her were correct. Absent the halfling¡¯s overriding suspicion and impressed with his ability to procure the reagents and tools she needed, it had been comparatively easy to convince her to share a hot drink, as long as he made it in front of her. The perks of using an invisible potion. You couldn¡¯t see it in the glass. Of course, allowing the fire to burn low hadn¡¯t hurt. It was freezing. ¡°¡­¡± ¡°I know. Give me a moment for gods¡¯ sake.¡± He threw a bundle of logs on the fire and fanned the flames. No need to conserve fuel. In a few days this would all be done, and his masters¡¯ hearth did not require wood. He sat in front of the fireplace. ¡°¡­¡± He glared. ¡°No, I do not regret it.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°No, I will not get in trouble!¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Will you be quiet!? I¡¯ll contact them later.¡± ¡°¡­¡± Nexus was beginning to get on his nerves. The bird had been full of flippant remarks from the moment he¡¯d made his decision. ¡°¡­¡± That part was true. He¡¯d taken a risk by sparing her life. When the time came he would have to ensure she had the means to disappear. Perhaps she would be grateful. He stared into the fire. ¡°¡­¡± Again true. But she would never know about that. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #27: Loyalty Exiles Issue #27 ¡°Loyalty¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright December 28th, 2017 www.mqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Lon read. His brothers stood around him. ¡°Well, what does it say?¡± He slammed the paper down on the desk. ¡°Surrender at discretion.¡± The others growled. It was Rias who spoke up. ¡°Don¡¯t gripe. We knew this would be coming.¡± Kiel stalked away. ¡°I¡¯d hoped we¡¯d get a second season.¡± Rias shook his head. ¡°By then we would be too powerful.¡± Lon agreed. ¡°So they attack now.¡± Wess flopped down into his chair and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. ¡°There is some good news. If we¡¯ve forced their hand, they might not be fully prepared for a fight. Maybe we can draw it out. Make them pull back.¡± Lon examined the map on the desk. Undead soldiers had been sighted less than fifty miles away. ¡°How are the volunteers?¡± Kiel answered. ¡°The armouries have been emptied. The weapons are on the carts.¡± ¡°Why haven¡¯t they been distributed?¡± Kiel looked at Rias. Lon turned to face him. His brother answered. ¡°We don¡¯t know who we can trust. There¡¯s no need to arm our friends until it¡¯s too late for them to become our enemies. The men guarding the carts are loyal. They¡¯ll move them into position when the time comes.¡± Kiel grumbled. ¡°I wish we had time to build a proper army.¡± Rias sat down. He understood his brother¡¯s position. Kiel was the only one of them with military experience. He understood the regular army. He understood uniforms, drilling, and organization. He didn¡¯t understand the mob. ¡°We knew we wouldn¡¯t have an army. When we chose this strategy we forfeited that option. An improvised militia is the only way to retain control in the long term. It is able to fight when needed but poorly capable of turning on us after the dust settles.¡± Lon rolled up the map. ¡°At least we¡¯ll outnumber them.¡± Wess nodded. ¡°And we still have our ace to play. How long has it been since anyone checked on them?¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Rias stood up and fetched himself a drink. ¡°This morning. I examined them in the vault. They appear every bit as potent as before.¡± Wess shivered. ¡°I hate handling them. They feel¡­sickly.¡± Lon stood up. ¡°They are sickly.¡± Rias sipped his glass. ¡°Nevertheless, those trinkets may save all our lives.¡± Lon grumbled. ¡°I hope so. We paid enough for them.¡± ¡°They were no more expensive than your sorcerer.¡± That was Alto, speaking up for the first time during the meeting. He didn¡¯t often contribute to military discussions. He was an accountant and an intellectual. Generally he preferred to dedicate himself to the organization and the house. He went on. ¡°Speaking of whom, how is the enchanted stove coming along? There isn¡¯t much time left and I¡¯d like to have it in the hall before the night.¡± Lon nodded. ¡°She swears it will be done on schedule.¡± Kiel turned. ¡°And what of the sorcerer? Have we decided what¡¯s to be done?¡± Lon turned to Rias. ¡°You told them?¡± Wess answered for him. ¡°Of course he did, and shame on you for not telling us yourself. There aren¡¯t supposed to be secrets between us.¡± Lon turned to the others. ¡°You¡¯re right. I apologize. And to answer your question: I haven¡¯t decided about her yet.¡± Kiel scoffed. ¡°It seems pretty straight-forward to me. She¡¯ll have to be eliminated: her and the thief.¡± Lon shook his head. ¡°We don¡¯t know that¡¯s necessary.¡± Rias interceded. ¡°Yes, we do.¡± They all turned to face him. Lon stood under their gaze. As a rule, they never voted. Their father always believed a vote within the family represented a failure; that relations should be able to put each other first and decide together. The only time any of them had failed to honour that, they had all been sentenced to exile. Lon frowned. Rias had been right to remind him. Still, he would ask. ¡°One day.¡± Rias regarded him. His face was hard, but as with all his brothers, there was respect in it. ¡°For what?¡± ¡°She is a powerful sorcerer, but as a professor she is ignorant of the true gravity of our business. Perhaps you¡¯re right that she has¡­strayed, but she may not know what that means. Give me a final chance to bring her around. If I fail¡­I¡¯ll deal with her myself.¡± His brothers looked back and forth between each other. Rias nodded. ¡°One condition.¡± Lon turned. ¡°What?¡± ¡°If you fail, we will deal with her.¡± Lon looked at his brothers. They nodded agreement. ¡°But why?¡± Kiel shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re too close.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± Wess interrupted him. ¡°If she¡¯s just misguided, as you say, you¡¯ll be able to convince her to come around. If not, then she is our enemy and yours too. Besides, you never liked¡­that side of the business.¡± Lon looked back and forth. His brothers were united; worse, they were right. If he were standing in the place of any one of them, no matter how much he hated it, he would be saying the same things they were now. He¡¯d been selfish before. Not again. He nodded. ¡°Agreed.¡± II. Azarelle tapped the back of the stylus. A tiny sliver of metal curled away from the surface of the stove. She brushed it off with the back of her hand. Done. It was good work, and the materials that Lon had provided were of fine quality. Properly maintained, the spell would keep the stove burning for more than a year. She stood up and then flopped down onto her couch. She sank into the cushions. Her back ached from all the crouching. She reached back over her shoulder towards the work table and the mug of coffee that rested on it. Out of reach. Groan. She flopped back down and stared at the stove. She still had to perform the casting to ignite it. All the components were inside, wrapped in carefully ordered layers around the smooth black stone that would hold the enchantment. She heard the door open. Her mug magically appeared at her shoulder. She took it and looked up at Lon, standing behind her. ¡°Thank you.¡± He smiled. ¡°You appeared to need it. I know how hard standing up can be.¡± She chuckled. He came and sat down. ¡°So that¡¯s it?¡± He pointed at the stove. She nodded. ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s ready?¡± ¡°Almost. I still have to perform the casting.¡± She yawned. ¡°I want to review my notes first.¡± ¡°Trial and error?¡± She shook her head, finishing her yawn. ¡°Not for this step.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure you can handle it.¡± She nodded and sipped her coffee. He didn¡¯t say anything more, and she didn¡¯t push him. These days they got along better if neither of them said anything. It made it easier to maintain the illusion that everything was fine. She frowned. They¡¯d had so little time together before it came to that. She fiddled with the pin he¡¯d given her. It was as beautiful as it ever was. ¡°Azarelle?¡± She turned. ¡°Yes?¡± He faced her. It was obvious from his expression that there was something big on his mind. He took her coffee mug and set it down. Uh oh. ¡°Have you ever made a mistake you felt like you couldn¡¯t take back?¡± Stay calm. ¡°Sure, a few times.¡± ¡°And did you ever get caught?¡± She gave him a little smile. ¡°I ended up here, didn¡¯t I?¡± He gave a weak laugh at that, but the weight on him didn¡¯t ease. She could tell he was leading up to something. She hoped it was just that they were breaking up. As much as it pained her, it would make everything easier. At least it would feel less like the betrayal it was. He went on. ¡°I made a big mistake once too. It was my brothers who gave me the chance to make it right, and when they did I swore I would never let them down again. No matter what. I would never put anything before my family.¡± Azarelle frowned. ¡°It must have been pretty terrible.¡± He nodded, staring at the floor. ¡°It was. I was selfish and stupid and before I knew it...¡± He trailed off. Azarelle straightened up. He was beating around the bush. ¡°Lon, what¡¯s wrong?¡± She knew the answer, but she had to play coy. He turned to her. ¡°I guess what I¡¯m trying to ask you is: if I gave you a chance to take back a mistake, as long as you promised never to put anything before my family again¡­would you?¡± She looked at him quizzically. ¡°Lon, what¡¯s wrong? Is it the invasion? The money for the stove? My project?¡± He shook his head. ¡°No, no, no. It¡¯s not that.¡± ¡°Then, what?¡± ¡°Just¡­answer. Please.¡± She was silent. How much did he know? Was it over between them, or was it something more? Something worse. She couldn¡¯t risk it. If he knew what she was up to, he would have said so. If he still wasn¡¯t sure, there was no reason to confirm his suspicions, and in the meantime it would be better to assume he was just hoping for the same kind of forlorn affirmation that everyone craved at the end of a relationship. They hadn¡¯t been together for long; nevertheless, he¡­felt deeply for her. She took his hand. ¡°Of course I would.¡± She didn¡¯t say any more. He looked into her eyes and saw right through her. He slipped gently out of her hand and left. She sat in silence. Had she given him the wrong answer? Had there been a right answer to give? Wait. No. The trouble wasn¡¯t the answer. It was the question. She¡¯d lied to Lon on more than one occasion. She¡¯d manipulated him for protection and money, but he hadn¡¯t asked her about him. He hadn¡¯t asked if she wouldn¡¯t hurt him again. He hadn¡¯t said ¡°him.¡± He¡¯d said his family. The room felt suddenly darker and colder¡­and far too quiet. She felt a need to pack. And she had to find Polly. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #28: Old Lessons Exiles Issue #28 ¡°Old Lessons¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright December 28th, 2017 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. There was a knock at the door. ¡°Professor?¡± Azarelle looked up with a grin. It was Jyll. They¡¯d been working together for six months and he still insisted she give him permission to enter. It was a shared lab for goodness sake. ¡°Come in!¡± The door swung open and he came through, struggling to manoeuvre a heavy cart from the storage room in behind him. It was loaded with supplies. The glass containers rattled against each other in their crates. ¡°I think this is everything.¡± He swung the door shut with his foot. Azarelle went over and gave him a peck on the cheek. It was allowed. Jyll had been granted a fellowship by the board of deans, and since their specialties were similar, he¡¯d been assigned to her department: theoretical magic and weave theory. Which was, incidentally, the topic of the evening. She waved him over. ¡°Come look at this.¡± He pushed the cart aside and came to the table. It was made from limestone, carefully harvested from one of the purest quarries in Gelande and shipped in filtered beeswax across the sea. The university had paid a tidy sum. Azarelle didn¡¯t care about the money. Neither did Jyll. The two of them were poised to make the greatest discovery in the history of modern sorcery. Everything else was crap. Jyll examined her setup. ¡°You think it¡¯ll work.¡± She smiled from ear to ear. ¡°I know it does.¡± He turned. His expression was just barely short of shock. ¡°You didn¡¯t wait for me?¡± Azarelle grabbed a tall stool, set it by the table, and sat him down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I couldn¡¯t resist.¡± He pouted. ¡°I thought this was our project.¡± She put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a pitying look. ¡°Oh, hush. You know I¡¯m not trying to horn in on you. This all started with your thesis.¡± He grumbled. She kissed him again. ¡°Come on. We still have to verify the result. Help me. Then we can get some lunch. My treat.¡± He maintained his frown for another moment before he finally relented. ¡°Fine, I forgive you.¡± ¡°Good.¡± ¡°Now let¡¯s see it.¡± Azarelle grinned and climbed up on the table. The experiment was simple; or rather it was easy to define. The work itself was incredibly complicated. It all started with Jyll¡¯s thesis: On the Possibility of Peak Harmonics by way of Inverted Sorcery. Not exactly a thrilling title. The dean¡¯s board had dismissed the work as clever but unproductive theoretical musing, not worthy of further study. Azarelle disagreed.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. And she had tenure. Jyll did as the deans asked and dropped the project. Unable to resist the possibilities, she elected to continue it in secret, siphoning off odds and ends of funding from other projects to nurse the endeavour along. It wasn¡¯t strictly speaking above board; but as the study quietly grew and Jyll¡¯s theories began to congeal into cold, hard fact, the gains became more than worth the risk. She¡¯d told him about it eight days ago. They¡¯d spent every night since then finishing it. The result was the construct in the centre of the table. It was an experiment, designed to serve as a kind of proof-of-concept, a concrete result they could take to the board. With a bit of luck, it would inspire them to loosen up some funding. Sorcery is best performed upside-down. It was common knowledge that magic was drawn into the world by using sound to create sympathetic vibrations in the weave of supernatural energy that blanketed the planes, but left to its own strange devices the effect was inevitably distorted by the ambient power of the surrounding weave. As a result, it was necessary to use physical elements to refine and amplify the sorcerer¡¯s influence on the weave. Such was the practice of what the two of them were now calling ¡°classical magic.¡± Jyll described it as ¡°shouting over the noise.¡± His theory maintained that it would be more effective to carefully insulate both sorcerer and spell from the movements of the wider weave, stilling the great strings in a localized area in order to allow the sorcerer¡¯s to exert their will without impediment. Even a soft note rings true in a quiet room. And a loud one roars. So stated his conclusion. Azarelle was convinced. Jyll¡¯s theories were going to change everything. The new method would allow magic to achieve a power no one ever thought possible. Which was why now, half-a-year later, she found herself sitting on a limestone table in the centre of her lab, surrounded by a carefully chosen set of components it had taken weeks to select. She stared at the subject of the experiment in front of her. It was a lamp. There were hundreds like it all over the city, maintained annually by a small army of municipal sorcerers. Their job was about to get a lot easier. She handed Jyll a pair of safety goggles. ¡°You¡¯ll need these.¡± He took them. ¡°For what?¡± She put on a pair herself. ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± Azarelle began. She spoke the words aloud, but no sound escaped her lips. The components didn¡¯t glow. The reagents weren¡¯t consumed. There was no noise, no vibration, no¡­nothing. The room was silent. And yet¡­ The lamp began to glow. II. Polly led the way. Nathanius looked back over his shoulder. The streets were dark and utterly deserted, but he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Asterious tapped him on the shoulder and whispered. ¡°You feel it too?¡± Nathanius nodded, glancing up at the street¡¯s shuttered windows. He saw one cracked open. It shut and he frowned. ¡°The city only looks empty. The people are all still here, trying to decide if we¡¯re worth the effort.¡± Ellyn spoke up behind them. ¡°Cheery.¡± Polly turned around. ¡°Will you keep quiet?¡± Ellyn whispered. ¡°How much further?¡± Polly pointed ahead. The moon was barely a sliver in the cloudy evening sky. The grey buildings rose like the walls of a shallow ravine. None of them were tall, but in the darkneses and the cold, nonetheless, they seemed to loom. Nathanius followed the line of Polly¡¯s arm ahead. She was pointing at some kind of hotel. There was a broad weathered sign mounted on the roof. He looked back up the street the way they¡¯d come. From up there, it had a perfect view of Selapak¡¯s main square, not to mention the Jasper¡¯s mansion. Polly led them inside and up the stairs. Asterious shifted, moving his hands to rest on his weapons. He still had the two hatchets from the pit outside Misery, and more back in the room he¡¯d left behind. Nathanius still had one of Krodyn¡¯s old knives; Ellyn had the other. He shook his head. ¡°We¡¯re not here to fight.¡± Asterious curled up his nose. The boards in the corridor creaked and the stairs groaned under their feet. Behind every door they heard whispers and scuffling as they passed. ¡°Something smells off.¡± Nathanius shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s probably a dead body somewhere.¡± Asterious sniffed again and shook his head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t smell like that.¡± Ellyn spoke up. ¡°I don¡¯t smell anything.¡± Polly stopped. They were on the top floor. The door to the room was unremarkable. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± She knocked. A dark man answered. III. Asterious stood quietly. The others were talking with Valis. He was about what Asterious had come to expect. Spies were all the same. They kept their hands where you could see them, smiled at you, moved slowly, and always looked you in the eye. After so many years Asterious had grown to recognize patterns in the way certain styles of people behaved. They didn¡¯t vary much from era to era, founded as they all were on each culture¡¯s way of responding to the relative constant of basic animal instinct: friend or foe, fight or flight, the familiar and the strange. Spies always had a way. It was careful and it was calculated. They were always in the middle, far enough away to avoid seeming a danger, but close enough to look friendly; their words were pointed enough to come across as honest but not so forceful that they might appear to actually be in need of your help. Keep the mark in control. Keep the mark comfortable. Keep them right where you wanted them. Nathanius was canny enough to keep track of all that. He was a smart one, and certainly capable of deciding whether or not it would be a good idea to make a deal. Asterious allowed himself to focus on something else. The smell. It hung in the air, not so much a scent as a sensation. He¡¯d felt it the moment he entered the room. When he was young his mother would make bread in the winter. The smell of honeyed fruit and almonds would fill the house for days, but what had always struck him most was that even when the season was over: weeks later, months later, or even decades later¡­walking through the rooms he was still able to catch the faint and fleeting fragrance of the bread. Of the honeyed fruit. Of the almonds. Old magic. There was something here and he feared it. It was nowhere to be seen, but he could feel it on his face as though someone had sprayed him with perfume. It had been so long, but the familiarity of it crashed into him like a sudden gust of hot wind. Perhaps he was mistaken. He prayed he was mistaken. But then, he knew better than to pray. He wandered slowly away from the group, doing his best to appear bored. He examined the wall Valis had used to display his map. Like a dog sniffing out a rat below the floor, he worked his way around slowly, following the ebb and flow of the sensation until he reached the cabinets by the spy¡¯s long table. Don¡¯t look back. A spy would always catch someone checking over their shoulder. The man had been open with them so far. Perhaps he wouldn¡¯t mind one of his new partners taking a look around. Which cabinet? The uneasy feeling scratched against his memory, evoking all the old alien sensations he had not quite forgotten how to dread. It was like recalling a nightmare. The fear had faded. All that remained was the knowledge of it. Do not think the word. Do not frame the thought. He put his hand on the latch of the centre cabinet. Had it all been for nothing? The door swung open, revealing a deep wardrobe hung with woollen clothing and a long fur cloak. He took a step back. ¡°Looking for something? Asterious turned. Valis was beside him. He thought up a lie and he thought it up quick. ¡°I was hoping for wine. I¡¯m parched.¡± Valis shut the wardrobe. The latch clicked. ¡°Here.¡± He opened the next cabinet over and drew out a smoked-glass bottle. He held it out. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it isn¡¯t good.¡± Asterious smiled cheerfully. ¡°I¡¯m sure it will do.¡± He took the bottle. ¡°Thanks.¡± He uncorked it and drank. The man seemed satisfied, but as a spy he would have seemed that way in any event. Asterious sat in the corner. It was too soon to be sure. He would have to tell the others, but not here¡­and certainly not yet. If he was right, telling them would only make the situation worse. It was prudent to be certain. No, it was imperative. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #29: Double Jeopardy Exiles Issue #29 ¡°Double Jeopardy¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright January 8th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The room was dark. All the rooms were dark now. Nobody could afford to waste fuel on light. The orange glow of a single candle flickered on the wall. Ellyn sat quietly against the headboard. Polly and Nathanius were talking about the job. Asterious hadn¡¯t said a word all night. ¡°So?¡± ¡°So, what?¡± ¡°Will you do it?¡± Nathanius didn¡¯t answer. They¡¯d told Valis they needed time to think about his offer. It was a grim business, but as Ellyn had come to discover, on this continent, there was no other kind. She leaned forward and spoke up. ¡°We still don¡¯t know we can trust him.¡± Nathanius agreed. ¡°It¡¯s true. The only thing we really learned was that it isn¡¯t a test. If the Jaspers knew the full extent what¡¯s been going on, they would already have killed everyone involved, including the two of you. And it is the two of you, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re the ones the syndicate is looking for.¡± Polly nodded. ¡°You going to turn us in?¡± Nathanius sat back. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the bedposts. He thumped his head against the wood. ¡°It¡¯s not a question of turning you in. It¡¯s not even about the job.¡± The Halfling raised an eyebrow. ¡°No?¡± He shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s about getting through to the next season. You¡¯ve been here long enough to know that. The only thing we know for sure right now is that Selapak is about to become a war zone. Anything could happen, whether we help the Jaspers, or Valis, or no one at all. The best thing we could do is get out of town, but we can¡¯t. All that¡¯s left is to figure out the best way to avoid getting ground under.¡± Ellyn didn¡¯t say anything. He was right, but the thought galled her. It was such a craven way of looking at the world, but it was as looming and as inescapable as the night: no friends, no enemies, no morals to speak of. There was only the path that was least likely to get you killed. What a bunch of bastards they were becoming. She sat up. ¡°I think we should turn Valis in.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. They all turned. She continued. ¡°If you¡¯re right, then there¡¯s is no right side and it doesn¡¯t matter who we pick to help. We might as well pick the people we know. They did trust us, after all.¡± Nathanius grumbled and turned to Asterious. ¡°What do you think?¡± He looked up, distracted. ¡°What?¡± Nathan repeated himself. ¡°Who do we side with?¡± He thought about it. ¡°Well, she¡¯s got a point. Better to dance with the girl who brought you.¡± ¡°And Tormar?¡± Asterious shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe he¡¯s overstating their numbers. I would.¡± Polly spoke up, evidently sensing the shift in allegiance. ¡°Azarelle believes him.¡± Nathanius turned. ¡°Do you think you could bring her around?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Why would she change her mind? You said it yourself. If the syndicate knew the whole story, they would already have had us killed. You want us to trust them not only to forgive us, but to keep us around for the whole winter? And all that¡¯s assuming they actually manage to keep control of the city and we don¡¯t all end up eaten by zombies.¡± Ellyn frowned. It was a good point. They might be able to get away with reporting everything to Rias and the Jaspers, but they weren¡¯t in half as deep as these two. Polly waited for an answer, but no one said anything. For them, it seemed to be Valis or nothing. Ellyn raised her hand. ¡°What about a backup plan.¡± Nathanius turned. ¡°Valis was the backup plan.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I mean a real backup plan, one that doesn¡¯t depend on someone else coming to our rescue.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m open to suggestions.¡± Ellyn mulled it over, fingers laced in front of her. This kind of thinking wasn¡¯t really her area, but she¡¯d lived at court, and there the only thing that seemed to matter was power: influence, money, soldiers; in the end it was about having something that everybody else wanted. Or needed. She turned to Nathanius. ¡°I¡¯ve got it.¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡± She nodded. ¡°Asterious said he¡¯s probably over-stating his numbers, right?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Well, if that¡¯s true, he doesn¡¯t just want the amulets, he needs to have them, and so do the Jaspers.¡± ¡°Okay, so?¡± ¡°So, we help Valis, at first. We steal the medallions, but instead of turning them over, we use them as leverage to get what we want.¡± ¡°And what do we want?¡± ¡°Like you said: a way out of town.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± She cut him off. ¡°No, you were right. Selapak is too dangerous, especially now. Given that, wouldn¡¯t it make sense for a group as paranoid as the Jaspers to have an escape plan in case things didn¡¯t work out?¡± Asterious snapped his fingers. ¡°She¡¯s right. They would never take the risk.¡± Nathanius thought about it. ¡°It¡¯s not a bad plan.¡± Asterious stood up from the wall. ¡°Will they take the deal?¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°They should. They¡¯ll get a fighting chance to win their war and the only thing we get is an opportunity to get the hell out of the way.¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled.¡± Nathanius shrugged. ¡°Now all we have to do is plan the heist.¡± Polly raised her hand. They turned to her and she smiled. ¡°I think I can help with that.¡± The door slammed open. II. Azarelle ran into the room. She slammed the door shut again behind her and turned to Polly. ¡°We have to go.¡± Polly answered in surprise. ¡°What? Why?¡± ¡°They know.¡± Everyone looked over. She was wearing a dark cloak and carrying a heavy travel pack. It was stuffed with papers. ¡°Lon came to see me tonight about the stove, only it wasn¡¯t about the stove. He started asking me all these questions and I don¡¯t think he liked my answers.¡± Asterious interjected. ¡°That doesn¡¯t necessarily mean he knows.¡± Azarelle turned to him. ¡°He tried to get me to swear never to do anything against his family again. Again!¡± Asterious shrugged a frown. ¡°Okay, that probably does.¡± Azarelle went back to the door and cracked it open. She peeked down the corridor. ¡°I don¡¯t know how long they¡¯ve been onto us.¡± She turned to Nathanius. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell them, did you?¡± He shook his head. Polly did the same. ¡°They¡¯ve been with me the whole day. We were just sorting out a plan to get us all out of this.¡± Nathanius stood up. ¡°We¡¯ll have to re-think it, but later. Everyone grab your stuff. We¡¯re leaving.¡± They began to gather their belongings. Despite their improved circumstances, they still didn¡¯t have much of their own. Except for Asterious, oddly. Nathanius looked over. His pack and it was clearly filled. A pair of long objects wrapped in oil cloth protruded from the top. Ellyn noticed too. She pointed it out. ¡°Been busy?¡± He smiled. ¡°Just a few odds and ends from the good old days.¡± She chuckled. ¡°Whatever. Where are we going?¡± Polly answered. ¡°We¡¯ll go to my place.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t they know where that is?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Not this place. It¡¯s a safe house on the other side of the city. It¡¯s not very secure, but it should be safe for a few days.¡± ¡°Only a few days?¡± ¡°In a few days the invasion will be on and we¡¯ll have the medallions. It won¡¯t matter after that, right?¡± They all looked at Nathanius. He shrugged. ¡°Good enough for a start. Where is it?¡± She shook her head. ¡°You¡¯ll never find it on your own.¡± He nodded succinctly. ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll follow you.¡± He turned to the others. ¡°Stick together and don¡¯t lose her.¡± A board creaked in the hall. The room went quiet. They all turned. Asterious ran to the door. ¡°Was anyone following you?¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°Impossible.¡± Nathanius drew out his long knife. ¡°They must have. They don¡¯t even know we¡¯ve met. There¡¯s no reason they would check here.¡± Asterious ran to the window. He drew out the hatchets he wore on his belt. ¡°Did they ever give you anything?¡± Polly looked at her. ¡°The pin!¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°Lon would never¡ª¡± ¡°Show it to me!¡± She reached into her bag and drew out a pair of spectacles. Azarelle took off the pin and handed it over. The thief regarded it for a moment before turning to Nathanius with a nod. She handed them back. He cursed. ¡°A beacon. You led them right to us!¡± Azarelle balked. ¡°It was a present!¡± ¡°From a crime lord!¡± Asterious spoke up from the window. ¡°They¡¯re outside too. I can see them in the alleys.¡± He pointed. ¡°There¡­and there.¡± Ellyn drew her own long knife. ¡°So we¡¯re surrounded. We have to fight.¡± Polly nodded. ¡°If we can get to the roof we can jump to one of the nearby buildings.¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°Lead the way.¡± Asterious went to the door. It crashed open. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #30: Into the Night Exiles Issue #30 ¡°Into the Night¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright January 9th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Asterious was thrown back. He thudded against the wall and thumped down to the floor. His pack slid under the bed. Nathanius tightened his grip on the long knife in his hands. The blade glinted white in the darkness of the tiny room. Four men burst in. Surprise was evident on their faces. Clearly they hadn¡¯t expected more than an elvish academic and perhaps a Halfling thief to contend with. They were using clubs. Clearly the Jaspers intended Azarelle and Polly be taken alive. A point in their favour, at least in the short run; unfortunately it also meant that whatever tortures Rias had in store for them were probably far worse than death. They would be made an example of. A line of freshly-flayed corpses hanging outside the main house would go a long way toward warding off intruders during the night. Still, their enemies¡¯ surprise gave them an opening. Nathanius lunged forward. To his credit, he¡¯d been in very few fights. The man brought his club around in an upward swing, catching him at the point of his chin. He felt something crack and reeled, collapsing to the floor with a groan. He looked up at the man through blurred vision. The club came up. Ellyn appeared, leaping from nowhere onto the man¡¯s back. She stabbed down. The knife slid into his shoulder and he yelped. With a grunt, he reached back to grab her, only to have his hand cut by the blade as she pulled it from his body and thrashed. Polly darted forward, stabbing with a stout, leaf-bladed dagger. The knife went into the man¡¯s gut and he howled as a wash of blood and entrails poured from the wound. One of the others swung around at her. She ducked out of the way and rolled back, but quick as she was the room was too small for her to gain any real distance. He closed in with the third man, trapping her against the wall. The fourth yanked Ellyn off the back of the first and threw her to the ground with a grunt. She sprawled flat. Nathanius¡¯s eyes were still swimming. Azarelle cowered in the corner. She had no weapons, only a walking stick, and no idea how to use it. The man standing over Ellyn brought up his foot. It came crashing down towards her head.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. There was a flash of shimmering metal, reflecting the solitary light of the room¡¯s one sputtering candle. The light shimmered back in a dozen scintillating rays, a brilliant and luminous blue. Asterious was on his feet, left arm outstretched, knee bent sharply in a long lunge. The man¡¯s foot flopped down onto the floor. A spurt of blood gushed out as he screamed and fell backwards, gripping stump of his severed limb. The third spun around, breaking from Polly and the fight at the wall. He brought his great club down. Its iron head fell like a boulder. A second blade. Asterious¡¯s right arm came up. Steel sang like the chime of a rung bell. The blow was utterly stopped. Asterious¡¯s wrist was locked tight. He had yet to shift his footing or move at all to adjust his balance. Nathanius stared. The brute stared. For a moment time slowed to a crawl as Asterious¡¯s head cranked slowly and smoothly around. There was only darkness in his eyes. Nathanius looked under the bed. Asterious¡¯s pack was open. Oilcloth lay discarded on the floor. The two remaining men moved in swinging. Asterious sprang to full height, lashing out with the blade in his left hand even as he brought his right up to guard. The left was longer and thinner than the other; the right was short and thick with a sturdy basket around the hilt. Asterious pirouetted around the incoming blows. The left blade snaked out and thrust, catching the first man in the side of the throat. Blood spattered the wall. He gurgled and slumped to the floor, coughing red mist. The last man turned and ran for the hall. Asterious kicked his leg out and he pitched forward, piling face-first into the door jam. Asterious followed him in and stabbed him through the back. The long blade protruded bloody and gleaming from his chest. The room fell silent, but for the sound of pain and ragged breaths. Nathanius struggled to his feet. ¡°Let¡¯s g¡ªrrhh!¡± He grunted and clutched at his face. His jaw was broken. Ellyn got up. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡± II. Polly led them down the hall and up to the roof, accessible via a ladder to the crawl space. Ellyn couldn¡¯t reach the cord. Azarelle reached up and pulled the ladder down. As she climbed up into the darkness, her cloak seemed to grasp and collect the shadows. She disappeared. Ellyn went up next. She didn¡¯t have time to be surprised. They crawled through the attic. ¡°That¡¯s a neat trick.¡± Azarelle was invisible, but Ellyn could hear her moving. ¡°It¡¯s a tool. I¡¯ve been going out at night.¡± Ellyn nodded. ¡°Fantastic. Hey, do you still have that pin?¡± A hand appeared from nowhere in the black. The pearlescent pin glinted despite the darkness. Ellyn took it and moved to throw it away into the corner. ¡°Wait!¡± She stopped. Polly came up from behind. She swung her leather drawstring bag around from her shoulder and pulled it open. ¡°In here.¡± Ellyn furrowed her brow. ¡°Won¡¯t they just¡ª¡± Polly shook her head. ¡°Not in here. Trust me.¡± Ellyn looked her in the eye. Polly just stared back and pointed into the hole at the top of the bag. There wasn¡¯t time to argue. Ellyn cursed and threw it in. The object vanished the moment it fell inside. Polly cinched it shut. Nathanius and Asterious were coming up the ladder. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± She led them forward. Ellyn called to her. ¡°How do you know the way?¡± Polly answered back. ¡°I¡¯ve memorized the layout of almost every property the Jaspers own.¡± ¡°In case of something like this?¡± She shook her head. ¡°In case I ever had to break back in.¡± She flipped onto her back and kicked open a panel on the roof. She turned to Ellyn. ¡°Try to stay low.¡± Ellyn nodded. Polly jumped up through the gap. THUNK!! III. ¡°¡­¡± Valis turned from the fire. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°¡­¡± He sighed and stood up. It was only a matter of time, he supposed. ¡°How long?¡± ¡°¡­¡± He went to the wardrobe. His cloak hung disused over his boots. He didn¡¯t wear it often. No need. He didn¡¯t go out much, and even less since he acquired his cohorts. The thick bearskin felt heavy on his shoulders. It was black. He pulled on his boots. ¡°¡­¡± Nexus was right. He confessed to himself: he was excited. As troublesome as the evening was soon to become, it had been a long time since he¡¯d had the opportunity to indulge himself. He reached a second time into the wardrobe. There was a hidden compartment at the back. He flicked the catch and it swung open, revealing a smooth, white stone. Right where he left it. He put it into his coat. It hummed in his thoughts. The power of the gods was like a purifying light. With it, the force of his magic would be multiplied a hundredfold. Nexus perched over the door. ¡°¡­¡± Valis chuckled. ¡°Just the eyes?¡± ¡°¡­¡± Valis nodded assent. He was a crow, after all. He swept a bottle of black fluid from the table, took up a brush, and knelt. He drew a twisting pattern on the floor. The black mixture dried instantly. He stood in the centre of the design. The sound of heavy boots thumped in the hall. Valis closed his eyes, drew a long black chain from his cloak, and began to whisper. No sound escaped from his lips. The stone in his coat trembled. The fire in the hearth grew dim. In actuality, the light was the same. There was simply more darkness. The door flew open. Six men stormed in. Valis smiled. The chain began to tremble. It moved like a snake. Shifting darkness began to drip from its coils, forming tendrils of black smoke that split, multiplied, and grew until they became an undulating swarm of sickly cords. Valis tightened his grip on the chain and smiled. His would-be assassins flinched and began to shuffle back into the hall. He shook his head. ¡°Too late for that.¡± He rattled the chain. Darkness surged. The screaming lasted only a moment. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #31: A Bloody Business Exiles Issue #31 ¡°A Bloody Business¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright January 10th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Nathanius ran, tearing down a line of low, square structures made from mud, old brick, and clapboard. Polly was right. They never would have found the shelter on their own. The shipping district was a labyrinth. All the buildings looked the same, and the streets were laid out in an endless grid of alleys and rutted thoroughfares. Three more, then turn left, then four. Look for a blue star. That was all she¡¯d been able to get out in the final moments before she fell unconscious. The syndicate had opened fire the moment they made it to the roof. Fortunately it was pitch black outside, and one assumed at least half of them couldn¡¯t see in the dark. Still, with all the arrows in the air it was only a matter of time before someone got lucky. Polly had taken it in the leg, mid-jump as she leapt to the next roof. Her footing gave out when she landed. If they hadn¡¯t caught her she would have rolled all the way off the edge and to the ground. Asterious had carried her from there while she gave directions. He still had her in his arms. The man was a machine. His shirt and pants were covered in her blood. ¡°How¡¯s she looking?¡± Asterious looked down. ¡°Pale. We better get there soon.¡± Nathanius kept running. His jaw ached. He was sure it was broken, or at least fractured. It hurt to talk, but it was bearable as long as he didn¡¯t open his mouth too wide. Turn left. Four buildings down. He stopped in the middle of an intersection. They¡¯d managed to lose their pursuers in the maze. Now they just had to find Polly¡¯s holdout. A blue star. ¡°Everybody look.¡± Asterious wasn¡¯t going to be any help. There were no lights in the street and the sky was overcast. It was pitch black. Even his own eyes were having trouble. Azarelle spoke up. She was a standing shadow, all but invisible in her enchanted cloak. It was an amazing piece of magic. He¡¯d have to ask her if she could make more. ¡°There.¡± Asterious looked around. ¡°We can¡¯t see you point.¡± ¡°On the left. Across the corner.¡± Nathanius looked. It was a depot of some kind, but there was no star. He heard footsteps. They all took off after them and the front door of the structure swung open.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°But there¡¯s no star.¡± Ellyn raced past. ¡°It¡¯s on the sign.¡± He looked up. Indeed. There was a shingle hanging from a wooden pole stuck in the wall. It was old and the writing had faded, but it had a picture of the constellation Siren on it. The guide star was drawn oversize and highlighted in blue. Asterious ran inside. Nathanius followed him. The structure was obviously abandoned, not surprising given the time of year. There was no trade in the winter. The layout was exactly as Polly had described: a poor shelter, but good enough to hide in for a few days. The ground floor was indefensible. There were too many doors, none of which had locks, and there were no shutters on the windows. Asterious stood in the center of the space. ¡°Where now?¡± Ellyn looked around. The room was huge. A handful of tables lay about the space, bare and weathered. ¡°I don¡¯t see anything.¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°Me either, but she wouldn¡¯t have led us here for nothing.¡± Asterious cast his glance to every corner. ¡°Maybe it got raided.¡± Azarelle answered from the shadows. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t leave her things out in the open. There must be a hidden door or something. We have to keep looking.¡± Polly¡¯s eyes fluttered. Asterious held up her head. ¡°Hey, she¡¯s awake!¡± Nathanius came over. She lifted her hand a few weak inches and extended a finger, pointing at a table in the middle of the floor. Asterious looked up. ¡°Take her.¡± Nathanius nodded. Asterious passed her into his arms and ran to the table. With a single swift kick he upended it across the floor. ¡°There¡¯s a trap door here!¡± Ellyn ran over. ¡°Open it!¡± He did. There was a rickety staircase leading down. Ellyn peered through the gap. ¡°It looks dry. There are a bunch of crates. They¡¯ve got some kind of symbol on them.¡± Azarelle spoke up. ¡°It¡¯s safe. That¡¯s the emblem of Tormar. The crates belong to us.¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go. Somebody get the door.¡± The basement was small, and piled high with stacked crates. There was a stove in the corner. The flue went into the wall. It was anybody¡¯s guess where it came out. There was a table up against the wall. Nathanius pointed. ¡°Bring that over here.¡± Ellyn climbed up the steps and shut the trap. Asterious pulled the table out for Polly. Nathanius set her down. ¡°Light!¡± They heard whispering. From out of nowhere a light appeared, caught on a pendant suspended by a hand extending from a slowly retreating shadow. Azarelle¡¯s invisibility peeled away into the dark. ¡°Will she make it?¡± Nathanius shook his head as he examined Polly¡¯s leg. The arrow was still sticking out of her thigh. The wound was seeping blood. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t have any medical training. Asterious?¡± He looked up. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Other things too?¡± Azarelle raised an eyebrow. ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡± Asterious came over. Nathanius pulled her back. ¡°We¡¯ll explain later. What¡¯s in these crates?¡± ¡°Tools and equipment, mostly for composing magic. We wanted to make sure we had everything we needed in case we had to leave town.¡± ¡°Any medical supplies?¡± Azarelle faced the pile. ¡°There should be.¡± Nathanius waved Ellyn over. ¡°We have to find them.¡± He glanced at Asterious, who shook his head and frowned. Nathanius turned back to the others. ¡°¡­Now.¡± II. Lon slammed the door. Rias looked up. ¡°Can I help you?¡± His brother was fuming. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me it would be tonight.¡± Rias nodded. ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°I was going to go. I was going to bring her in.¡± ¡°Be glad you didn¡¯t. She wasn¡¯t alone.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°It seems our problem was larger than we thought. Nathanius was with her, along with Polly von Toffel, his swordsman, and the musician. They killed three men on their way out. A fourth is still bleeding in the ward. The nurse doesn¡¯t think he¡¯ll make it.¡± Lon went to the window and looked out in the direction of the hotel where the fight had taken place. ¡°You should have let me talk to her.¡± Rias frowned. ¡°I did. You said she lied.¡± ¡°I wanted to give her another chance!¡± ¡°She¡¯d been given enough chances. I didn¡¯t make her choose to betray us and neither did you.¡± His brother frowned. ¡°Still.¡± Rias shook his head. ¡°Still, nothing. At your request she was given both the benefit of the doubt and a warning. Let it go.¡± Lon turned from the window. ¡°So where is she?¡± Rias stood up from the desk. ¡°Gone to ground. The beacon is dark. For now, she and the others have escaped. I¡¯ve got the word out but I¡¯m not expecting anything. Between the invasion and the night all our people are dedicated to other tasks.¡± His brother¡¯s grim expression brightened ever-so-slightly. Rias frowned. ¡°You have to know that if she does eventually re-surface, nothing will have changed.¡± Lon nodded. ¡°I know.¡± Rias grumbled. ¡°I still don¡¯t understand what you saw in her. ¡°Well, you and I are very different people.¡± Rias nodded. ¡°Indeed.¡± Lon¡¯s mood remained bright. He went to the sideboard and poured them both a drink, nurtured by the hope that his girlfriend was safely away. Even if he never saw her again, he could take comfort in that. Rias¡¯s only comfort was the fact that the report from the hitters clearly indicated that their quarries had indeed been taken by surprise. Lon hadn¡¯t leaked. His brother handed him a glass and returned to the window. ¡°What about the operative?¡± Rias shook his head. ¡°More bad news. The entire team was wiped out.¡± Lon furrowed his brow. ¡°The whole team? How many?¡± ¡°A dozen of our best.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°Magic, we assume.¡± ¡°Assume?¡± ¡°To get a report you need survivors, but the carnage at the scene was conclusive enough.¡± ¡°You think he¡¯s gone back to his lines?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°But we¡¯ll be ready?¡± Rias joined his brother. The city was dark. The pool of light around the house was the only sign of life for six blocks. He could see the Blind-Deaf Ladies¡¯ hotel across town. It would be open all winter. They considered it an imperative for morale; plus, they had almost as many guards as their own syndicate. They would need their help in the end. His brother would always be the man that he was, and in the grand scheme of things, the invasion was more important than a handful of fugitives. Rias sipped his drink. ¡°We¡¯ll make it. The undead move slowly in the cold. Wess was right. We forced their hand. They couldn¡¯t wait and give our base of power a chance to grow. Our fighters will have the advantage.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good news.¡± Rias nodded. ¡°It is, as long as the battle is decisive. Our men cannot survive in the weather.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t the enemy know that?¡± Another nod. ¡°They do, but they cannot nibble around the city forever. If they want to seize control, eventually they will have to come to us. That will be our moment to strike.¡± He turned to Lon. ¡°If your girlfriend is as smart as you say she is, she¡¯ll find a way to get out of town before then.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #32: Plan B Exiles Issue #32 ¡°Plan B¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright January 11th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°We can¡¯t leave town.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Nathanius sat by the stove. He stared through the tiny grate at the peeking red glow of the fire. ¡°Polly can barely stand, let alone walk, and by the time she¡¯s well enough to travel the vanguard of Tormar will already have arrived. Selapak will be surrounded.¡± Ellyn frowned. Polly hadn¡¯t yet regained consciousness. Asterious had patched her up nicely, but Nathanius was right. They weren¡¯t going anywhere for a while. The safe house wasn¡¯t much more than a hole in the ground under the floor. Nathanius said that it was probably a smuggler¡¯s hold. There was wood under their feet, but the walls were mostly dirt. At least it was arm. Well, warm enough. They were eating porridge. It was all they had. The bulk of the supplies Polly and Azarelle got from Valis were for magic. There wasn¡¯t much food, a fact for which Nathanius had levelled considerable criticism. She set down her bowl. ¡°Couldn¡¯t we carry her? We could steal a wagon.¡± Nathanius shrugged. ¡°I suppose we could, but it¡¯s a risk.¡± Azarelle raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Nathanius ate his porridge. He frowned at it. They were all frowning at it. ¡°Until we know she¡¯s stable, we shouldn¡¯t move her. We¡¯re better prepared to deal with an emergency here. Plus, and I know I¡¯ve said this before: it¡¯s too cold to travel. We¡¯d never make it anywhere.¡± Azarelle spoke up. She¡¯d been sitting quietly for almost an hour, right around the time Asterious finished up with Polly and they started playing the waiting game. ¡°So we just¡­stay here?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°We can¡¯t do that either. We¡¯ve got a plan and it¡¯s still our only real chance. We have to carry it forward.¡± Ellyn gave him a sceptical look. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little ambitious at this point? I mean, Polly is the only one of us with real experience at this sort of thing, and she¡¯s laid up.¡± ¡°We still have steps we can take while we wait for her to recover. With a little luck she¡¯ll be well enough to work when the time comes.¡± II. There were a lot of steps. The first was to get an accurate picture of the mansion¡¯s defences. Good news there. They¡¯d all been inside, and according to Ellyn, Polly had explored every nook and cranny of the estate. It would be easy to come up with a plan for the grab after she woke up. In the meantime, they had only to figure out the rest. That was where he came in. Nathanius shifted closer to the stove and warmed his hands. The others were asleep, apart from Asterious, who¡¯d gone out hours ago, despite his protestations. Wouldn¡¯t say why. Said he had to follow up on something. He¡¯d stayed up on his own to make plans. It would be difficult. With the five of them in the wind and the invasion on the horizon, the house would be locked down tight. It didn¡¯t matter how they got in, there would be no way to get through the security; at least not without getting bogged down in a drawn-out fight that would probably end in all of their deaths. Asterious was good, but no one was that good. The problem was the organization. They¡¯d been in control for months, more than enough time to perfect their security. The only way to penetrate it was to create some kind of a disruption to force them to adjust their plans. If they could do that, they might expose a weakness. The invasion would do it, but that solution was no good. Security would be low with all the heavies in the field, but by then the Jaspers would already have pulled the amulets out of the vault, and even if they got in before they did, it would be too late to cut a deal. They needed a better plan. He¡¯d been up for the past three hours in the dark trying to figure out what on earth that plan might be. Azarelle sat down. Nathanius jumped in his seat. Apparently she was still awake. It was hard to keep track of her in that cloak.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°That¡¯s really creepy, you know.¡± She smiled. ¡°Sorry.¡± She was very pretty, and her skills were undeniable. He could understand why Lon had been taken with her. She lit a long pipe. ¡°You smoke?¡± She leaned back against a heavy crate and nodded. ¡°Just chase weed.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a Gelan herb.¡± She nodded. ¡°I thought elves all smoked amaane.¡± She took the pipe out of her mouth. ¡°It¡¯s a stereotype.¡± Nathanius smiled sheepishly. ¡°Sorry.¡± She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± They sat quietly. Nathanius ruminated. It would have to be something big. The fire popped in the stove. Azarelle blew a smoke ring. A thought occurred. He dismissed it. They couldn¡¯t set the building on fire. The Jaspers wouldn¡¯t forgive a stunt like that; plus, they had to leave them with their infrastructure intact or there would be no deal. He turned to Azarelle. She put out her pipe. ¡°Done already?¡± She chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m trying to stretch it.¡± ¡°Where did you get chase weed anyway?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Well it certainly doesn¡¯t grow here.¡± She gave him a forlorn smile. ¡°Lon gave it to me.¡± He nodded. ¡°Do you regret betraying them?¡± She put the pipe away in her cloak and warmed her hands. ¡°I had no choice. Tormar is going to take over Selapak.¡± He frowned. ¡°You sound pretty sure.¡± She nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve seen it, remember.¡± ¡°Right, the augury. Aren¡¯t those supposed to be unreliable?¡± She gave him a flat look. ¡°Not when I perform them.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re not in this for the backup plan. You just want to get in good with Tormar.¡± She nodded. ¡°How can you be so sure?¡± She shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just¡­know.¡± ¡°And what if Valis is dead? They came after us. It stands to reason they went after him too.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a sorcerer. I¡¯m sure he made it.¡± ¡°So are you, and you almost didn¡¯t.¡± She fell silent. Nathanius grabbed a smaller crate and slid it across the floor. He put his feet up. ¡°How did you meet the Jaspers?¡± She lay back against the crate and slid her feet towards the fire. ¡°They approached me shortly after I made it to Selapak. I moved in with them three days later.¡± ¡°How long did you live with them?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Three or four months, I guess.¡± ¡°Ever see anyone get through their security?¡± She shook her head. ¡°No.¡± He grumbled in his head. ¡°Anyone get close?¡± She leaned her head back. ¡°I wish we had some coffee.¡± ¡°Come on. Humour me.¡± ¡°Lon told me he caught someone raiding the alcohol in the storeroom once.¡± ¡°Staff?¡± She shook her head. ¡°How¡¯d they get in?¡± ¡°Security was light. His brothers were all out of the house.¡± Nathanius sat up. ¡°And they took a portion of the guards with them.¡± Azarelle noted his attention. ¡°Yes, of course.¡± ¡°How many?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember.¡± Nathanius leaned forward and stared at the fire. Sparks were flying in his head. ¡°It would have to have been at least half. They wouldn¡¯t risk walking around with any less.¡± Azarelle looked at him incredulously. ¡°You¡¯ll never get them to go out with things the way they are. It would be too dangerous.¡± Nathanius waved her off. ¡°But what if they had to?¡± Azarelle chuckled. ¡°You going to set the building on fire?¡± Nathanius gave her a flat look. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Then what?¡± Nathanius looked around the room. It was filled with magical components and equipment. Azarelle could probably put something together to draw them out, but an attack would only put them on the defensive. The first thing they would do would be to secure the vault. There had to be something else; something benign, but important. His eyes fell upon Ellyn, asleep on a stack of boxes. He turned to Azarelle. ¡°I¡¯ve got it.¡± III. Some people never change. Asterious regarded the structure in front of him. It was gaudy, even in darkness, and by all visible appearances it was completely deserted. The gate was open, the windows were shuttered and boarded over, and a layer of deep snow had settled over the length of the walking path. It had built up against the door. It gave the impression of an icy tomb or a haunted house, to ward off superstitious looters who might be tempted to come calling. The frozen corpses littering the yard didn¡¯t hurt. Asterious could see them, poking up out of the snow. How many had died here because they didn¡¯t know just who it was they were dealing with? He took a breath. Walk softly. Touch nothing. It was a risk coming here, but one worth taking. Asterious entered the yard and walked directly up the path from the front gate to the door. No sneaking. No ulterior motives. The old man would be watching, and there was no one else. It was always this way. His punishment ensured that there would never be old friends to call. It didn¡¯t say anything about old enemies. He chuckled. A loophole of the divine. The door was shut. It looked like it hadn¡¯t been used in years. Asterious knew better. He knocked. No one answered. He knocked again, louder. ¡°Come on. I know you¡¯re in there.¡± A few minutes passed. Asterious waited. Under ordinary circumstances he would have been tempted to break in and take a look around, but these odd times were hardly ordinary, and there were times where even he found it prudent to exercise caution. He pounded his fist against the wood. ¡°Open the door, Del Rossi. It¡¯s me.¡± He heard a grumble. The door opened quietly at the hand of an unseen servant. It was light inside, and warm to the point of discomfort. The smell of spice and opium emerged in a smothering cloud. It draped over his face like an oil-soaked cloth. Some people never change. A monogrammed cotton towel was draped over his the arm of his invisible guide. He followed it through a cloud of burning incense into the parlour. The walls were hung with brocade drapes. He found Del Rossi seated in the middle of a broad silk pillow, appearing as he always did: old, fat, and drunk. A low wooden table squatted in front of him set with a tall hookah. The smoke filled the top half of the room, a twisting haze of bluish grey. Asterious rubbed his eyes and coughed. Del Rossi waved him over. His voice was a slurred drawl. ¡°Something to eat?¡± Asterious approached and sat down. ¡°No, thank you.¡± The man snapped his fingers and a plate of spiced dates appeared on the table, materializing from nowhere along with a crystal decanter filled with deep red wine. Asterious could smell their price. He was tempted for a moment. It had been a long time and the old goat knew it, but if there was one thing he had learned about Lamion Del Rossi in the course of their dealings, it was that he was not to be trusted. He was dressed in gold silks and jewellery, the result of many lifetimes spent in the pursuit of depredation and the peddling of magical mischief. ¡°I thought you were dead.¡± The invisible butler disappeared into the hall. Asterious answered. ¡°I¡¯ve been dead before.¡± Del Rossi nodded. ¡°Indeed so. What a nuisance you are, always turning up to stick in your immortal nose where it doesn¡¯t belong.¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°Then you know why I¡¯ve come.¡± The old man set down his pipe. ¡°I do.¡± The old man leaned back on his pillow. His eyelids drooped. ¡°All the old familiar evils in all the old familiar places.¡± Asterious¡¯s stomach turned. ¡°Then they¡¯re here?¡± He nodded. ¡°And they¡¯re coming?¡± He nodded again. Asterious leaned back and took a long breath; then he looked up. ¡°Wait, why haven¡¯t you left?¡± Del Rossi chuckled, hacking and wheezing as he did. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere to run from a calamity so large; and certainly not for a man in my position. They already know me.¡± ¡°So you¡¯ve given up?¡± The old man shook his head. ¡°Not exactly.¡± Asterious tensed. This was bad. ¡°You¡¯re going to join them?¡± The old man smiled. ¡°Dear boy, have you become dull as well as old?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Del Rossi tut-tutted. ¡°I¡¯m disappointed you haven¡¯t realized it already.¡± Asterious¡¯s heart stopped. The drugs in the air, the smell of the food¡­of the incense. It was all to dull his senses. He stood up. ¡°You already have.¡± The sorcerer clapped. In an instant a hundred gleaming weapons appeared around the room, hovering in the air, their flashing blades bent angrily towards him. Old magic. Del Rossi smiled. ¡°They don¡¯t do it like they used to, do they?¡± Asterious put up his hands. ¡°You can¡¯t do this.¡± The sorcerer smiled. ¡°Oh?¡± Asterious took a step back. The weapons inched forward. ¡°You owe me, sorcerer. We had a deal.¡± ¡°Long ago, and in another lifetime.¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°We both know that doesn¡¯t matter.¡± A long moment passed. The weapons hovered. Their enchanted steel whispered and sung softly in the hanging cloud. Asterious took another step slowly away. Del Rossi lifted a hand and a single knife flashed down from the ceiling. Asterious ducked. It was too late. It stopped a bare inch from his face and hovered. Asterious paused. He looked at Del Rossi, waiting. The old man grumbled. ¡°Perhaps it is worth keeping you a while longer.¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°Hedging your bets?¡± The sorcerer snapped his fingers and the weapons disappeared from the air and the butler returned. ¡°Go. You have the answer you came for. This conversation never took place.¡± Asterious got up. Del Rossi added. ¡°And my debt is paid.¡± Asterious nodded slowly and went, following the butler cloth. He stopped in the door and turned. ¡°Lamion?¡± The man looked up. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°How many are there?¡± Del Rossi picked up his pipe. ¡°Four.¡± Asterious furrowed his brow. ¡°After so long?¡± The old man smiled. ¡°You know as well as I do, your highness. True evil doesn¡¯t multiply¡ª¡± Asterious finished the phrase. He knew it well, and nodded grimly. ¡°¡­it only grows.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #33: Fragments of the Past Exiles Issue #33 ¡°Fragments of the Past¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Rachel Mrotek Copyright February 6th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. They called it the armature. Azarelle sat quietly, whispering cool silence into the air. Jyll sat across from her at the opposite focal point, doing the same. Plucking the weave. The armature spun between them, a towering monument to their combined intellect. Flashing gimbals of steel, gold, silver, and leaded crystal spun in flashing ribbons, a blur of energy and material, interspersed with light, pulsing in every colour of magic¡¯s dizzying rainbow. With each passing moment the power in the armature grew, revolution upon swirling revolution, wave upon swelling wave, each rising higher than the last. The great construct emitted a low hum, resonating as its heavy parts whipped through the steadily warming air. The heat was a problem. There were two spells being cast in the experiment: first, the spell; and second, the inversion to isolate a section of the weave. Despite their early successes, they were still perfecting the second half. Their first attempts had been at lower energy levels: simple spells with simple goals and minimal needs, but as they attempted more ambitious castings, the task of composing and stringing a stable spell for isolation grew exponentially more complicated, and while their current model functioned to a degree, for lack of a better term, it leaked. Hence, the armature. It was more of a measuring device than a spell; after all, the goal of the experiment wasn¡¯t necessarily to cast powerful magic, but to determine by what magnitude a sorcerer¡¯s power could be amplified by stilling the nearby weave. It shone like a captured star. The inversion weave spread out across the floor, a carefully graven arrangement of carved lines inlaid with gold, set at meticulously calculated increments with precisely cut gemstones, rare ores, and sealed phials of quicksilver and distilled water. They¡¯d given up on organic components. Too fragile. A spray of multi-coloured sparks suddenly crackled, racing along the patterned lines of the weave, an arc of lightning along the clouds. The phials began to fracture, spilling their contents as the escaping power cascaded along the circumference of the pattern. Azarelle¡¯s eyes snapped open at the sound. She shouted. ¡°Containment failure!¡± Jyll opened his eyes. He dove to the wall and yanked down on a heavy lever. Directly above the armature, a huge leather bag suspended from the ceiling slipped open, disgorging a torrent of fine white sand. The spinning structure of the armature scattered the grains in all directions, blanketing the room. The light vanished. The device ground slowly to a halt. Jyll turned to her. ¡°What happened?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Maybe an asymmetric harmonic. Some kind of sympathetic vibration.¡± She reached across the floor and brushed the sand away, revealing the pattern on the floor. The gold was encrusted with coal-black scale. The gemstones had fractured. She looked up at Jyll. ¡°Check the ones on that side.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. He did. ¡°They¡¯re fine.¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°That¡¯s an asymmetric harmonic alright. We¡¯ll have to recalculate. Damn it. We were so close.¡± She went to the wall. They¡¯d moved from the lab in the research wing to an unused storage space in the sixth tower. It used to be an observatory, but no one used it since they expanded the astronomy annex. Its circular shape was well-suited to their purpose, as well as their desire to remain undetected by the rest of the faculty. Jyll went to the base of the armature. The measuring gauge was located there. Azarelle looked over. ¡°What¡¯s the reading.¡± He answered. ¡°Ninety-one percent.¡± Azarelle frowned. They would try again. The deans had rejected their first proposal, as well as their second, and while they had been willing to forgive the first two rounds of low-grade, off-the-books appropriations as the product of scientific zeal, the funds the two of them had embezzled since then easily amounted to verifiable grand larceny. It was only a matter of time before the bookkeepers figured it out. Azarelle picked up a handful of sand and slowly let it run through her grip. They¡¯d come so far. She couldn¡¯t let it all be for nothing. II. There were boots coming down the stairs. Azarelle started up at the sound. Asterious shut the trap door behind him. The draft flowed, a tide of chilling air that clung to the bones and stuck to the flesh. She pulled her cloak tight. The fire burned in the little metal stove, popping as the embers inside smouldered and cracked. They would need firewood pretty soon. Asterious sat down. He looked a little shaken up. Azarelle raised an eyebrow and took out her pipe. She lit it. ¡°Everything alright?¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°No. Where¡¯s Nathanius?¡± Azarelle pointed her pipe up at the door. Everyone seemed to care about what Nathanius thought. ¡°Out with Ellyn. Where were you?¡± He sat down. For a moment he seemed ready to say something, but he let the notion go. ¡°It¡¯s not imporant.¡± Azarelle huffed out a laugh. He was such a strange man. A clown, surely, but there was something thoughtful and distant about his aspect that gave her pause. He seemed weathered¡­disinterested. It was as though everything that came before him was old news. Which was why his apparent unease was so unsettling. It was evident on his face: the distant look, fading slowly to a focused expression and back again. Now and then he shook his head, as though rejecting an errant thought. He pulled off his boots and put his feet by the fire. The stench was abominable. Azarelle took a long draw from her pipe. The herbs crackled in the bowl. The musk was fragrant. It always used to relax her. Tonight it didn¡¯t seem to help. Her thoughts were elsewhere. Magic. Power. The accident and her dismissal, the augury. Valis. Was it an indulgence to believe they were all connected? Was it ego? She thought back to her day in court. They¡¯d called her unfeeling. They¡¯d called her cold and condemned her to this place. She¡¯d missed Jyll¡¯s funeral. A tear slipped her cheek. She never seemed to be able to hold onto anything. Polly groaned. Azarelle ran over. ¡°Polly!¡± She coughed. ¡°Az?¡± Azarelle nodded rapidly. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m here. Thank goodness. I was so worried.¡± Polly tried to sit up, only to wince and lie back down. ¡°They shot me in the leg.¡± Azarelle laughed. ¡°They did.¡± She gave her some water. Polly drank eagerly, sputtering as she gulped it down. ¡°Did we all make it?¡± Asterious nodded. ¡°Everyone. You were the only casualty.¡± Polly almost laughed. ¡°Figures. So where are the others?¡± Azarelle took her hand. ¡°They went out. We¡¯re moving forward with the plan. We need your help.¡± Polly turned her head and smiled up at her, ignoring the comment. Her face was one of soft gladness. She spoke softly. ¡°You didn¡¯t leave me behind.¡± Azarelle started to cry. She knew exactly from whence the tears came. She¡¯d lost so much, too much to think about and too much to mull over quietly. Her grip tightened hard on Polly¡¯s hand. ¡°Never.¡± III. Thump. Thump. Crunch. The basement door gave way and splintered. Valis braced himself against the ground to shove the portal open. His boots were soaking with mud and melted snow. The hole in the ground that served as the basement stairwell the was filled with ice and fresh snow up to his waist. The door shoved open. He shivered and slipped inside. The basement felt like a tomb. A sheet of black ice had crept across the floor almost to the far wall, the result of so many days and nights of freezing, melting, and re-freezing. The table remained where he had left it, as well as the bed, the tools, and the shallow graves, all undisturbed. Back to square one. He clapped his hands, addressing the ground. ¡°Come on. Get up. There¡¯s work to do.¡± He turned to the stove. He¡¯d salvaged it from the ground floor. There was no one living in what remained of the house upstairs. He¡¯d burned it down when he arrived. All that remained was the rubble. The wreckage obscured any evidence that there was ever a basement at all. This was his first place. He¡¯d acquired it before he got his apartment in the shipping district. The ice on the floor cracked and crumbled open. A grey hand emerged from the loose earth, followed by a pair of arms, a chest, shoulders, and finally a head. He was a man, perhaps in his early thirties; beside him, a second man about the same age was also in the midst of exhuming himself. Valis examined their condition briefly. They were the original owners of the house, only a little worse for wear for their time in the cold ground. The smell was minimal, but present. He wrinkled his nose. He¡¯d been spoiled by the cadavers back in Tormar, wrapped in clean linen and smelling of the evergreen resin they used for the embalming. He¡¯d killed these two and left them behind, along with some supplies in case of emergency. There¡¯d been no reason to bring them along, and it would have been risky to attempt to sneak them across the city. Undead were easy to spot, and besides, it had comforted him at the time to know his bugout stash was be well guarded. They stood up silently and waited. He pointed to the corner. ¡°Dig out the supplies.¡± Valis got back to the squat iron stove. It was freezing. He had to start a fire. The dead complied. He didn¡¯t have to provide detailed instructions. Undead didn¡¯t have a will of their own, or instincts, or motivations for that matter of any kind. The magic didn¡¯t bring the dead to life; it merely allowed the sorcerer to press his own will into a lifeless body. You only had to keep the instructions clear in your own head, and avoid letting your thoughts wander. The kindling struck. A warm red glow began to flower in the heart of the stove. Valis blew on it gently. He wasn¡¯t worried about his cover, nor the fact that the Jaspers¡¯ had managed to root him out. The task for the evening was not to flee, nor was it to retaliate, nor to change tactics; the task was to determine what damage, if any, had been done to the plan already in motion. Nexus perched on the corner of the table. ¡°¡­¡± Valis nodded. ¡°You guessed it.¡± ¡°¡­¡± He chuckled. ¡°Find all of them, actually.¡± He reached into his pocket and drew out a bit of paper. He scribbled on it and tied the note to Nexus¡¯s leg. ¡°¡­¡± Valis raised an eyebrow. ¡°Just do your best. I have complete faith in you.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, I know. I¡¯ll report in after you find out what happened. Give me some good news.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see you in a few hours.¡± He took the bird to the door and cracked it open. The bird hesitated. ¡°¡­¡± He thought it over. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯d like you to find her first.¡± ¡°¡­¡± Nexus flew out and he shut it again. Valis took a long breath and smirked at his parting words. Nexus was right. It was too cold out for a war. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #34: Favour Exiles Issue #34 ¡°Favour¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright February 12th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°Let me do the talking.¡± Ellyn glared. Nathanius stepped in front of her and knocked. Ellyn stepped back around him. ¡°She doesn¡¯t even like you.¡± He turned. ¡°How do you know that?¡± ¡°It was obvious.¡± ¡°You¡¯re exaggerating.¡± Ellyn grumbled. They had a job to do here. Squabbling over who would take the lead wasn¡¯t going to help anything. ¡°Look. She gave it to me. I¡¯ll use it.¡± Nathanius hesitated. Finally, he took a step back. ¡°Fine. You remember what we need?¡± Ellyn took a long breath, arresting the urge to punch him in the face. ¡°I remember.¡± They waited. The door had a little window in it about halfway up. It slid open and a face appeared. His tone was one of forced geniality. ¡°Good evening. What brings you to the House of the Red Silk Curtains?¡± Nathanius opened his mouth to answer. Ellyn stomped on his foot and held up the favour. The coils of silk and gold turned in her hand, glinting in the warm light streaming out through the porthole in the door. The man¡¯s eyes went wide. She held it closer. ¡°Open up.¡± The port snapped shut. The sound of a heavy bar sliding met their ears alongside the clicking of uncountable locks. Ellyn turned to Nathanius. ¡°I thought you said they were open all winter?¡± He chuckled. ¡°I never said they were wide open. There¡¯s food and safety here for anyone who can pay. Rich prey if they didn¡¯t take precautions.¡± Ellyn frowned. So much talk of the night. It was a long time coming. According to the others there were only a few days left, and those days would be short indeed. No calendar was kept well enough to be certain exactly when it would begin. It arrived like a last, weak breath, a final gasp of light from the invisible disc of the sun from well below the horizon and then¡­shadow.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The door opened. Six tall men in red leather armour stood inside in the once-inviting foyer, armed with heavy steel cudgels, also painted red. They stood in polite and stoic silence against the wall. Ellyn regarded them calmly. A guard was a guard wherever he was to be found. There were many in her own history. The doorman put out his hand to take the favour. Ellyn pulled it back. ¡°This is worth more than an open door.¡± The doorman frowned. ¡°What do you want?¡± Ellyn straightened up. ¡°I need to speak with the dominaa.¡± II. Asterious started to laugh. ¡°We¡¯re going to distract them with a party?¡± Polly creased a smile. Azarelle was filling them in on the plan. It was Nathanius¡¯s idea. He always seemed to be full of them. Full of something, anyway. ¡°It¡¯s actually not such a strange idea. The Blind-Deaf Ladies throw a soiree every year at the beginning of the long night. It¡¯s a point of pride. The syndicate could hardly refuse an invitation.¡± She turned to Azarelle. ¡°But they weren¡¯t going to do it this year because of the invasion. It¡¯ll be here in, what¡­days?¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°Nobody¡¯s sure. Before we got thrown out of the house I got some information out of the guards. It could be days; it could be hours.¡± Azarelle cut in to explain. ¡°The party¡¯s still cancelled, but the dominaa owes Ellyn a favour. She and Nathanius went to convince them to hold a smaller gathering instead, and to invite the Jaspers. Ellyn will be on the invitation as the musical host for the evening. The Jaspers will guess that they¡¯re sheltering the rest of us. They¡¯ll show up figuring they can convince the ladies to hand us over, meanwhile¡ª¡± Asterious interrupted. ¡°Meanwhile, we¡¯ll be robbing them blind. I like it, but won¡¯t the Blind-Deaf Ladies be angry that we used them?¡± Azarelle shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a risk we have to take.¡± Polly clicked her tongue in her cheek. The plan would certainly get the Jaspers out of the house, along with most of the guards, but Asterious was right. It was one-hundred percent traceable back to them. Once the truth got out they would be at the top of every hit list in town. She sighed. ¡°Well, let¡¯s just hope the Jasper brothers really do have a plan to get out of the city, because if this works, we¡¯re going to need it.¡± Azarelle helped Polly to a sitting position against a crate. Azarelle had laid out a broad piece of leather and some writing materials. She gently took up the quill, dipped it, and handed it over. ¡°We¡¯ll figure that out later. For now, we have less than a day to plan the heist.¡± Polly stared at the quill. Talk about a rush job. She mumbled. We¡¯re all gonna die.¡± III. The dominaa sat quietly at her desk, cheek scrunched up, tapping her finger gently against the closed face of a red leather ledger. Nathanius stood across from her with Ellyn. He tried to keep a straight face. There was no reason to carry on with the party, even in a reduced capacity. Further there was no reason to include them in it even if they did. An ulterior motive was obvious, and a woman as cunning as the dominaa would hardly fail to noice. On the other hand, a favour was a favour. The honour and integrity of their organization was at stake. On the other, other hand, this close to the long night, she could have them both killed right now and no one would ever know. She leaned back in her chair. The favour was on the desk. She regarded it coolly. Ellyn had presented their request¡ªor more accurately, their cover story¡ªin eloquent fashion: their companions were dead and now the two of them were in need of shelter for the long night. She had already been offered a place, and a debut performance would serve to introduce her to their resident patrons. As for him, while he couldn¡¯t play music, his intellect could surely be put to use. The dominaa turned to him. ¡°Why?¡± The question carried more weight than the simple word. Nathanius maintained his level expression. He didn¡¯t enjoy lying to her. The memory of the Blind-Deaf Ladies was long and lasting. Once it was discovered¡ªand it would be discovered¡ªthis betrayal would not be soon forgotten. It was a shame. They had come so close, but with the threat of invasion looming it would have been foolish to leave their fate to the simple outcome of a battle. The dominaa and others like her could protect themselves; they could not. It was time to leave, and this was the only way out. He looked her straight in the eye and answered, ¡°We have nowhere else to go.¡± She tapped her fingers rapidly for just a moment before she replied, sweeping up the favour. She opened a drawer and tossed it in abruptly. ¡°Never be said that the Blind-Deaf Ladies do not honour their word. Nathanius, you will receive a room in the hotel. We¡¯ll find something helpful for you to do.¡± She turned to Ellyn. ¡°We¡¯ll send out the invitations and tomorrow night you will play for our honoured guests.¡± Nathanius bowed low. ¡°Thank you, dominaa.¡± She turned to him and raised a coy eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m not finished. There is a condition.¡± He straightened up. She turned back to Ellyn. ¡°You will be inducted into our order forthwith. Tonight you will play for our masters so that they can assess your abilities before you meet with the tattooist and take the oath.¡± Nathanius¡¯s eyes widened at the words as Ellyn¡¯s glance snapped around to face him. He hadn¡¯t expected this. He stared back at her dumbly. No one left the order of the Blind-Deaf-Ladies. Their organization was founded upon an implicit promise: absolute confidence. They couldn¡¯t afford the impression that the secrets that so regularly passed before them might ever chance to leak. Every member took an oath of secrecy and allegiance. The punishment for breaking it was death. Ellyn would have to stay with them. If she didn¡¯t, the agents of the ladies would stalk her the rest of her days, but if she declined, the dominaa would know for certain that they were up to something and neither of them would even make it out of the room. But Ellyn didn¡¯t know that. The dominaa came around the desk, her sunny disposition suddenly clouded over with dread gravity. Her grace loomed. She stood before Ellyn, staring down at her imperiously, all traces of the warmth she had once shown both of them grown cold and dark. Nathanius kept quiet. The dominaa spoke with calm authority. ¡°Is there a problem?¡± Ellyn took a long breath, a note of resignation couched in her resolved expression. Nathanius¡¯ heart caught in his throat as he awaited her reply. He didn¡¯t know Ellyn well, but as was true of all of them, the book of her life surely contained a few dark pages. How far would she go? What was the strength of her resolve? Ellyn lifted her eyes, a hard look steeling on her face that flashed away to a calm smile in an instant. She shook her head, curtsied daintily, and answered. ¡°No, dominaa. No problem.¡± Nathanius exhaled. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #35: The Last Day Exiles Issue #35 ¡°The Last Day¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright February 14th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Ellyn winced, forcing herself not to touch her face. The tattooist had done her best to be gentle. The needle only hurt when she got close to the eyes. She barely noticed the lingering pain during her assessment by the masters. The oath had been brief. Ellyn regarded herself calmly in the mirror, pulling her hair back and away from the design as it swept over the arch of her cheek, painting a line across her ear before descending the line of her jaw to disappear behind the cut her of chin. Now that the skin had begun to heal, it itched like mad. Nathanius was with her. They were sitting in her room, which was on the performers¡¯ floor, second from the top of the hotel. The top floor was for the dominaa and her confidantes. Below them, a third staff floor was home to practice areas and a cafeteria. Nathanius had a room in the back. The room they¡¯d assigned her was fairly comfortable. The bed was stuffed with heavy cloth batting, the blankets and pillows were wool, and a glass oil lamp burned on a dresser across from the bed, shedding warm orange light into the room. They¡¯d given her clothes, not as nice as the ones she¡¯d seen on her new guildmates downstairs, but they were nice. They reminded her of her time at court, albeit less elaborate, and certainly not made from the silks she¡¯d worn at the time. These were wool, dyed a deep crimson and brushed smooth. The neckline was surprisingly conservative, an oddity given the reputation of the establishment. Ellyn spoke over her shoulder. ¡°You think this¡¯ll come off?¡± Nathanius was sitting on the bed, back propped up against the wall. Ellyn smirked as he massaged his jaw, still purple from the blow to his chin he¡¯d suffered during their escape from the hotel. He grumbled out an answer. ¡°By magic, if we¡¯re lucky.¡± Ellyn frowned. The tattooist had given her a salve. She applied it liberally with the tip of her finger. ¡°This had better be worth it.¡± Nathanius ran a hand through his hair. ¡°It should be.¡± She spun around. ¡°Should be?!¡± He nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t get all panicky. Pull this off and we¡¯re in the clear. Lon and his brothers will trade for the amulets and by the time Valis¡¯s comrades in arms get here, we¡¯ll be long gone. No muss. No fuss. No trust.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Ellyn gave him a flat look. ¡°I bet you think you sound pretty clever when you say things like that.¡± He thumped his head back gently against the wall and shut his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s gotten me this far.¡± He gave a forlorn chuckle. Ellyn smiled. ¡°Nice.¡± She sat down. ¡°Ever wonder if maybe we¡¯re not doing this right?¡± Nathanius opened an eye. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Ellyn let out a long breath. Every step they¡¯d taken had brought them from bad to worse. Would it have been too much to ask to be able to just work for the Jaspers? She frowned. Of course it was. This continent would never allow an innocent to live in peace. Nathanius was right. A place with the Jaspers would have been good enough for the long night, but the only way to be sure they would survive was to get away, and for that they needed leverage. She mumbled. ¡°I just wish we could have trusted your friend.¡± Nathanius chuckled. ¡°Yeah, me too.¡± II. Polly was on her feet, though her leg still ached. She was leaning up against a makeshift table, a broad piece of leather spread over a pair of low crates. She¡¯d sketched the main house of the Jaspers¡¯ estate upon it while Azarelle and Asterious quietly watched. She set down the quill. ¡°Done.¡± They looked. Azarelle nodded. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s next?¡± Polly drew her eyes along the line marking west wall. It fronted an alley between a low building and the taller main house. Both were owned by the syndicate, but the close quarters and the darkness would give them space to work and a measure of cover from the guards standing watch in the square. She pointed. ¡°Here.¡± Asterious raised an eyebrow. ¡°There?¡± Azarelle looked down. ¡°But there aren¡¯t any windows on that wall.¡± Polly nodded. ¡°The Jaspers sealed up all the ground floor windows when they took over the house, and the ones on the top floor are locked.¡± Asterious gave her a questioning look. ¡°But you could get in, right?¡± Polly looked up at him. Bless his heart. It was a good thing he was so pretty. She tapped her wounded limb. ¡°Not like this. To use a window on the second or third floor I would have to climb up and hold myself in place with my legs while I worked on the lock. It takes two hands.¡± His mouth fell open. ¡°Ah.¡± Polly smiled. She pointed to another area of the drawing. ¡°If we can¡¯t use a window, all that¡¯s left is the roof. There¡¯s a skylight here that leads to the Jaspers¡¯ office. It¡¯s locked as well, but if Asterious can climb up, he can throw down a rope and pull me up; then I can open it.¡± Asterious nodded. ¡°Then we go to the vault.¡± Polly nodded back. ¡°I never saw it, but there are only a few places on this map where it could be, and we should expect it to be sealed somehow, probably by magic.¡± Azarelle leaned in. ¡°I can take care of that.¡± Polly nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll be counting on it.¡± Asterious frowned. ¡°Still, that leaves us having to check every hiding place one-by-one until we find it. That¡¯s a long time.¡± Polly returned his frown and agreed. It was risky. The search would take time, and every minute they were in the house was a minute they might be discovered. She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯ll take too long.¡± Asterious nodded agreement. ¡°We¡¯ll have to come up with something else. Maybe we can get to one of the guards and make them tell us where it is.¡± Polly looked up at him. ¡°In twenty-four hours?¡± The table fell silent. Azarelle looked around the room and the stacks of crates and supplies that Valis had provided. Polly looked up. ¡°Got something?¡± She looked over. ¡°I was just thinking. Do we still have those crystal balls you got me?¡± Polly nodded. ¡°We do. I think they¡¯re in your stuff from the hotel.¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°Then maybe we won¡¯t have to look.¡± III. Lon read the report with a deep frown. His brothers had already been over it. He was reading it again, as though somehow a second look would change its implications. Tormar was close. The scouts had withdrawn from the outskirts, pressed back into the core of the city by the steadily rising density of wandering undead, uncontrolled skirmishers cut loose from the main body of the force; meanwhile, in the hinterlands, the first groups of the enemy¡¯s cleric-soldiers had already been sighted. The bulk of the army could not be far behind. Lon massaged his head. It was like watching a plague. It advanced invisibly and with agonizing slowness, marked only by the appearance of pins on a map, each grim sighting a new outbreak. Lon set the report aside. His brothers remained confident. The mob would respond. The lottery had been a huge success. Thousands of volunteers had registered their names, thieves and brigands all, and each now with a vested interest in their victory. Perhaps one horde would prove as good as any other. But the armies of the dead were not their only enemy. Lon glanced at the calendar on the wall. It was old and out of date, left by the previous owners of the house when they took over. It only showed one fact, and with little accuracy: the long night was almost upon them. Years of preparation spent to position themselves, one ambitious year to seize control, and scant few months to solidify their hold. It all came down to this. No government ever survived the long night. Would they be the first? Lon found himself wondering how many others had asked themselves the same question. The answer would come soon enough. One or two days. Three if they were lucky. The night and the invasion were set to coincide, which was almost certainly Tormar¡¯s plan all along. Lon sighed. The long breath escaped his lips slowly. He missed Azarelle. What would become of her when the storm finally came? Would she ever come back? Could he trust her if she ever did? He frowned. His brothers would say no, and in the end it was a waste of thought to ponder the matter. She was long gone. The sound of boots thumped on the stairs. The door swept open and his older brothers paraded into the office. They fanned out. Rias had a letter in his hand. He threw it on the desk. The envelope was deep crimson. Lon reached out and took it up. ¡°From Tormar?¡± Wess shook his head and smiled. ¡°From the ladies. They want to host us for a party.¡± Kiel cut in. ¡°Not a party, a gathering.¡± Lon read the letter. ¡°That¡¯s¡­interesting.¡± Rias loomed over him. He pointed to the bottom of the page. ¡°Not as interesting as their new star performer.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #36: Nightfall Exiles Issue #36 ¡°Nightfall¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright March 19th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Lon stared out from the broad window of the office, missing the mechanical clock he¡¯d owned back home. He¡¯d been staring for almost an hour, but it wouldn¡¯t be long now. His brothers were getting ready to leave. They¡¯d already met together and given out instructions to the district bosses. If the enemy attacked while they were at the Blind-Deaf Ladies¡¯ ill-timed gathering, the city¡¯s response would be no less prompt, and he could always take over if the need arose. Lon had decided not to go. The last thing he needed to see right now was his brothers hauling Azarelle out of the hotel by the hair. They¡¯d promised to be gentle if she cooperated, but he knew Azarelle pretty well, to say nothing of Nathanius and his new friends, all of whom knew exactly what they were in for. There was going to be a fight. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder how long they had all been working together and whether or not Rias been right all along. The horizon was still dark. He sipped his coffee. The mug steamed. It was his third so far this morning. He didn¡¯t normally have so much, but he had to start getting through it. There was too much in the storehouse and he didn¡¯t want to let it go to waste. Of course, the stash was meant to be for two. He¡¯d bought enough for the whole winter. He frowned. Not much chance of that now. The sky brightened, barely. He stared out at the endless plain: black, grey, and white. Somewhere in the distance there were mountains, frozen rivers, and home. He shook his head. Home was here now. He knew that. His brothers knew that. Everyone knew that. That was the reason for the struggle. Selapak, Tormar, and countless other scattered settlements, each one supporting its own example of the latest crop of annual kings, every one as desperate as the last to reclaim some small measure of the power and dignity they had all been forced to leave behind. That was the trap: the house, the money, the girl. It couldn¡¯t be done. Not in this place. There wasn¡¯t enough for everyone. Hell, there wasn¡¯t enough for anyone. He and his brothers had taken control of the largest city on the continent, and he had only managed to get close. Two out of three. Problem was, these days he only seemed to be able to think about the one that got away. The door opened up on the ground floor. Lon looked down through the glass. A broad pool of orange light spilled out into the street as three dozen guards exited, followed closely by his brothers. There was a carriage waiting for them. It was a short trip to the blind-deaf ladies hotel, but they weren¡¯t taking any chances.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The house would be operating on a skeleton crew until they returned. Just enough to hold it. Lon had put them all on the ground floor. A sliver of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Lon looked up, but it was too late. It lasted only for the barest of instant. His glimpse met only its final fading rays, and then the light vanished and was gone. It was night. II. Nathanius tied a rope off to the bedpost, crept to the window, and dropped it out. They¡¯d made it from the bedsheets. He turned. ¡°You¡¯re ready?¡± Ellyn nodded. It was strange. She thought she¡¯d be more nervous. ¡°Ready.¡± He grabbed his things. ¡°Everything¡¯s been arranged for the performance?¡± Ellyn nodded again. He opened the window. ¡°Then let¡¯s just hope no one comes looking for me.¡± Ellyn picked up her guitar. It was the one she¡¯d purchased at the Notch. ¡°I¡¯m sure everyone will be busy downstairs. The Jaspers¡¯ get here in less than an hour. My concert alone is supposed to last for another three.¡± Nathanius climbed out the windows and hung on the rope, bracing his feet against the wall. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s enough time.¡± III. Polly wrapped a bandage tight around her leg and stood up. They couldn¡¯t wait any longer. ¡°It¡¯s time.¡± Azarelle frowned. ¡°We don¡¯t have everybody.¡± Polly shook her head. ¡°We can¡¯t wait. The timetable is everything. The only thing we can do is stick to it.¡± Asterious grabbed the bundle of equipment. ¡°And if we can¡¯t?¡± Polly shrugged. Asterious had been quiet all evening. As a matter of fact, he¡¯d been quiet since he returned from getting their supplies. What could make a man like that keep his mouth shut, she had no idea. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out when we have to.¡± Azarelle gathered her cloak and closed the grate on the stove. The fire would snuff itself out. Shadows gathered around her like a cloud of moths to an invisible flame. She pulled up the hood and all but disappeared. Polly wished they had a cloak like that for each of them. She¡¯d asked about it, but apparently Valis¡¯s pile of materiel only included enough of a certain necessary component to create one. Azarelle¡¯s voice emanated from the shadows. ¡°I wonder what happened to Valis.¡± Polly grabbed her pack. ¡°Probably hiding out like us.¡± ¡°Do you think he knows what we¡¯re planning? How are we supposed to deliver the amulets if we don¡¯t know where he is?¡± Polly thought about a moment. In the end she shrugged. ¡°He might have guessed what we¡¯re up to, especially if he¡¯s heard about the gathering at the Blind-Deaf Ladies, but whether he¡¯s figured it out or not, he¡¯s definitely looking for us. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll make contact once the job is done. We can hand over the amulets then if we don¡¯t end up trading with the Jaspers.¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°The Jaspers¡¯ won¡¯t trade. Valis will be the one that saves us.¡± Asterious lifted an eyebrow. ¡°You always sound so sure of that.¡± Azarelle answered. ¡°I know what I saw.¡± Polly frowned. The augury. Her friend had told her about it: the invasion during the night, the fire, the fighting in the city streets, the ¡°encounter¡± with Lon, but it was only recently that she¡¯d revealed the details about the ending that she now seemed so certain of. For some reason Polly found her confidence disquieting. Asterious walked over to Azarelle. He peered into the empty space where he was standing and sniffed. ¡°Are you feeling alright?¡± The darkness shifted as Azarelle moved past him. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Let¡¯s just do this.¡± Polly watched as Azarelle¡¯s bag vanished, disappearing into her friend¡¯s robes. Asterious turned around. ¡°You sure that spell¡¯s going to work?¡± Polly chuckled. Azarelle¡¯s magic always worked. Azarelle answered. ¡°It¡¯ll work. Once the casting is complete, the magic will guide us to the vault like a compass, but it doesn¡¯t last for very long. We¡¯ll have about ten minutes.¡± Asterious took a breath and nodded. Polly watched him. Clearly he had something in his head, but whatever it was, he wasn¡¯t willing to share it. She went to the stairs. ¡°Be ready to think on the fly. In my experience nothing ever goes exactly according to plan, and we¡¯ve already hit at least one complication.¡± Asterious nodded. ¡°Nathanius. If the cart isn¡¯t outside when we¡¯re done we¡¯ll have to escape on foot. And you¡¯re not exactly in sprinting shape.¡± Polly thumped her leg and winced. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me.¡± She opened the trap door. The black chill of the long night poured in through the gap. She shivered. This job was a mess: too many variables and far too little time to prepare, and she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that there was something else going on. Something bigger. She hated jobs like that. They were always more treacherous than they appeared. It was a job like this one that landed her here. Well, that and the gambling. Never take a job where the pitch starts out with: we can give you a fresh start. They never say where. IV. Three cloaked figures. Right on schedule. The crow¡¯s eyes picked out their forms dimly, even through the deep of the night and the sorceress¡¯s shadowy magic. Valis smiled as he watched them creep away along the street. He whispered aloud. ¡°Come home.¡± Nexus took flight. The gaze of the bird soared over the city, its buildings reduced in the darkness to a dark field of thinly scattered lights. ¡°¡­¡± Valis raised an eyebrow. Indeed. What next. ¡°We¡¯ll deliver them a message.¡± ¡°¡­¡± He chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re right. You¡¯ll deliver them a message.¡± ¡°¡­¡± He smiled. ¡°I know it¡¯s cold.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Yes, fine. I suppose it¡¯s finally time to check in.¡± There was a long pause. ¡°¡­¡± Valis nodded. He was right. It wouldn¡¯t be long now. For how many centuries had their names been whispered? For how many eons had their forms been recalled only as fragmented history? Valis grinned. Truly, it wouldn¡¯t be long now. The gods were coming. No one would be whispering anymore. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #37: Trivial Pursuits Exiles Issue #37 "Trivial Pursuits¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright March 20th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Jyll thumped his head down on the desk and sighed. ¡°Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it can¡¯t be done.¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t believe that. We¡¯ve been getting closer.¡± He tilted his head up. The desk was covered in paper, diagrams upon layered diagrams surrounded by an encyclopaedia¡¯s worth of hand-written annotations. One of the sheets stuck to his head. He rested his chin and muttered. ¡°Not much closer.¡± Azarelle peeled off the sheet and looked at the data. They were up against a wall. It was like some kind of mathematical limit. Every time they increased the power, every time they contrived some new means of firming up the isolation, the magic pushed back that much harder. They¡¯d been chewing on the project for three months and all they¡¯d managed to do was paper the floor with endless trial and error. Magic was tricky. The weave was like a labyrinth. The moment you thought you understood how to navigate it, you discovered that you had only become more deeply ensnared. They¡¯d come up with a few explanations: errors in the composition was the first. It wasn¡¯t just about the calculations. There was music to it, but she was fairly certain that they were correctly stringing the spell. Of course, the experiment was really two spells: the actual casting in the armature and the isolation pattern to amplify it, the second of these being the focus of the study. There was always the possibility that the pattern was incorrectly designed, but she found it hard to believe that the two of them had failed utterly to make progress over nine weeks. That left only one, and it was a killer: Materials. Jyll¡¯s theories were right. They¡¯d proven it. They¡¯d put their careers on the line to prove it. Would it all be for nothing because they couldn¡¯t get their hands on reagents that were up to the task? Because of the expense? Would that be the end of it? The expense? Azarelle sighed. Then again, that was magic too. It wasn¡¯t just a maze. It was a hole in the air you poured money into. The inquiry was already under way. You could only misappropriate funds for so long before the book-keepers got wise. So far the deans hadn¡¯t mentioned any suspects, but it was only a matter of time. Her fingerprints were all over it. They had another day, if they were lucky.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. She hadn¡¯t told Jyll. The board had only informed the department heads and some of the more senior professors. And so she knew, but there was no way to stop it. It was like watching a tsunami approach. It wasn¡¯t even worth it to run. She stood up from the desk. ¡°We have to try again.¡± Jyll looked up. ¡°We can¡¯t. We¡¯re still doing calculations and we haven¡¯t even reset the room. The sand bag¡¯s empty. What if something went wrong?¡± Azarelle looked down. ¡°We¡¯ll work through the night.¡± ¡°But why?¡± ¡°You get down to the cafeteria and find some food. I¡¯ll make some coffee.¡± He groaned. ¡°Honey, I¡¯m really tired. What¡¯s the rush?¡± She didn¡¯t answer. He leaned up in his chair. ¡°Is something wrong?¡± She was a terrible liar, but she wasn¡¯t ready to tell him the truth. He wasn¡¯t an idiot. He knew she¡¯d been cooking the books to keep the project running, but as long as it looked like she was keeping him in the dark, he would be protected when the walls came tumbling down. They had to finish the work. It would be the greatest discovery in the history of magic. If they succeeded, it wouldn¡¯t matter how far they¡¯d had to go. She tried to answer calmly. ¡°No. Nothing wrong.¡± II. Nathanius leaned out from the alley, waiting. His eyes were trained on a dark carriage rolling up the block. It came on like a funeral procession: slow, black, and quiet. The dim glow of a single lantern heralded the wagon¡¯s approach, while a crowd of armed guards skulked at the edge of the flickering light. It was them. Rias descended first, followed closely by Kiel, Alto, and Wess. They wore stern looks and dark fur cloaks made from the pelts of black bears. The carriage door shut. Lon wasn¡¯t there. Nathanius cursed under his breath. They must have left him back at the house. The four men entered the building and the door swing heavily shut. Well, then. Showtime. III. Asterious had his legs planted against the sides of the alley. With a grunt, he jumped and braced himself again. Polly watched. Another five or six jumps and he would be able to reach the edge of the roof. Azarelle whispered to her. ¡°How long has it been?¡± Polly shook her head. ¡°Probably thirty minutes.¡± Azarelle frowned. Polly could barely see her face. Her long cloak had already soaked up the darkness of the alley. She was practically invisible. And yet she fidgeted, nervous. ¡°It feels like it¡¯s taking too long.¡± Polly glanced briefly back up the alley and out at the square. The guards were nowhere in sight. She whispered back. ¡°It¡¯s alright. It always feels that way. Try to stay loose. We¡¯re on schedule.¡± Her friend nodded and took a short breath. Polly looked back up. Asterious would only get one chance. The wall was too smooth to free-climb, which was why he was leaping up the way he was, slow and steady, but Azarelle was right. It was taking a while. If he slipped and fell, they probably wouldn¡¯t have time for a second shot. She wished her leg weren¡¯t injured. They would already be in the building and well on their way to the vault. As a people, Halflings possessed uncommon strength for their size. It was nothing spectacular, but it was enough to give her light frame a reliable six feet of vertical rach, with an iron grip to match. Asterious¡¯s foot slipped on a bit of smooth stonework. Polly¡¯s breath caught in her throat. He slid down a few inches before he caught himself. She could see him gritting his teeth as he jumped again. Once more. Twice more. Three times. Four. His hand caught the edge of the roof. Polly let out a breath as she watched the man slowly haul himself up, twisting his torso like the coils of a boa constrictor. He disappeared up and over the edge. A few minutes later a rope fell down in front of their faces. Polly turned to Azarelle. ¡°Got all your stuff?¡± Her friend nodded rapidly. Polly nodded back, grabbed the rope, and tugged. ¡°Then here we go. Stay quiet.¡± Asterious hauled her up hand over hand. They would bring Azarelle up together. He smiled as she reached the top. ¡°This is a good plan.¡± Polly flipped around, tied a loop in the rope, and dropped it back down over the edge. She spoke over her shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t jinx it.¡± There was a tug on the rope and they started pulling. Polly looked around and frowned. It was brighter up here than she¡¯d expected. The moon was out. She grumbled to herself. Of all the days for the overcast to clear. Worse, the sky was filled with long, shimmering bands of polar aurora. The roof was lit up like a performance stage. They would have to move fast. Azarelle emerged from the alley and crawled onto the roof. The darkness clinging to her flooded back down into the alley. She looked down at herself, startled. Polly helped her up. ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡± The skylight was halfway across the roof, positioned above the Jaspers¡¯ office. Polly knelt down beside it and rolled out her tools while the others waited a short distance away. She was about to get to work on the lock when she spotted movement. Lon was sitting at his desk, working. She ducked back, returning to the others. Asterious whispered. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± She frowned. ¡°Lon is still in there.¡± Azarelle¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°What?¡± Polly hissed. ¡°Shh!¡± Asterious glanced over at the window. ¡°Is he alone? Maybe we could get the drop on him.¡± Polly nodded. ¡°Not a bad idea. You¡¯d have to do it quick.¡± Azarelle shook her head and interjected. ¡°No! Don¡¯t hurt him.¡± Polly looked over and raised an eyebrow. ¡°I thought you walked out on him? Besides, didn¡¯t you say he¡¯s going to die in the invasion anyway?¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°We don¡¯t know that.¡± Asterious furrowed his brow. ¡°You said you were sure about the augury.¡± Polly giggled as a thought occurred to her. It was hardly the time for it, but she couldn¡¯t resist. ¡°Or are you just hoping that a certain special part of the vision will still find a way to come to pass.¡± Azarelle looked over at her. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Polly smirked. ¡°Oh, you know.¡± She shook her head and returned a stern look. ¡°I really don¡¯t.¡± Polly sighed. Either she was playing coy because Asterious in earshot or somewhere along the line she¡¯d been hit in the head. Polly was betting on the former. She decided to let her off the hook. ¡°Well, if we can¡¯t hurt him we¡¯re going to have to get him out of the room.¡± There was a pause. Polly drew a blank. Asterious raised his hand. ¡°I think I¡¯ve got an idea.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #38: Movers and Shakers Exiles Issue #38 ¡°Movers and Shakers¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright March 27th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Azarelle pulled off her hood. The guards jumped. As she approached the darkness peeled off of her cloak, shedding into the shadows as she stepped into the torchlight. The guards watched her carefully, weapons at the ready. This was never going to work. She couldn¡¯t get Polly¡¯s comment out of her head. She hadn¡¯t even really said anything, but still¡­it was caught like a splinter in her skin. She was forgetting something. Something important. But now wasn¡¯t the time. She had to focus her attention. Asterious¡¯s half-baked idea was as simple as it was insane. She understood that this was normal for Asterious, but he at least seemed to think the solution to their problem was obvious. What¡¯s the best way to get someone to leave their office and come to the door? Easy. Knock. Azarelle half-expected the guards to slay her on the spot. She kept her hands up as she drew near and opened her mouth to speak. ¡°Go and get Lon, please,¡± she said. ¡°Tell him Azarelle is back.¡± II. Rias stepped quietly along the deep carpet that lined the hall. He frowned, uneasy. The guards had been required to wait at the front desk. He and his brothers had been asked to give up their weapons. In their lives, they had never been so exposed. Kiel would have a knife. They hadn¡¯t been searched, and he always kept one hidden, but in the event an altercation, the heavy cudgels of the dominaa¡¯s guards would present a lethal challenge. They would have to tread lightly. Besides, this was a friendly gathering. He chuckled. The ladies¡¯ organization was nearly as large as their own. They would need their help in the coming battle, and their support through the night would be invaluable. Almost any deal would do.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. The first would be to get the ladies help to send a final message to the city before the night: the reach of the syndicate extends far into the dark. Nathanius, Asterious, Azarelle, and Ellyn. A fresh row of flayed corpses outside the mansion would create a lasting image. The guards led them into the concert hall. The dominaa was seated at a broad, circular booth in the corner. The cushions were red and thick, and the table was set with a banquet of roasted vegetables and meat. She motioned for them all to sit. There were no guards at the table. They took places around her. It was a fool who would conclude that they had her surrounded. The dominaa knew exactly what she was doing. The walls of the hall were lined with guards. The sloping balcony of the hall bristled with crossbows, and then there was the woman herself: a magic user, and far more than simply dangerous. Wess spoke up. ¡°This all looks delicious. May we?¡± The dominaa smiled. Her glance lit up the room, falling warmly on stone-hard faces. ¡°Oh, please do! Help yourselves to as much as you like. I think we won¡¯t get another chance to meet like this for quite a while.¡± Rias nodded. Ever the cheerful optimist, Wess grabbed a plate and immediately tucked in. The others waited quietly. The dominaa uncorked a bottle of wine. ¡°Something to drink?¡± She poured herself a glass and drank. Rias answered with a nod and she poured another for each of them in turn. Wess reached for the bottle. ¡°Please, let me.¡± She laughed and shook her head. ¡°Nonsense. You¡¯re my guests. Let me host. I promise you won¡¯t regret it.¡± Wess grinned. ¡°Of that, dear lady, I have no doubt.¡± Rias clenched his jaw. It was common knowledge that the dominaa insisted on her title, but she seemed to let it pass. Lucky. The wine poured. Rias sipped it politely. He wasn¡¯t in the mood to enjoy himself. There was business to discuss. The dominaa clapped. ¡°Music!¡± Her command sang in a vibrato across the room. A pair of heavy red curtains on the stage pulled slowly apart, revealing a single empty chair. Rias turned to the dominaa. ¡°I understand you¡¯ve got a new performer?¡± The dominaa smiled and leaned back, relaxing against the cushions. ¡°It¡¯s true.¡± Rias returned his eyes to the stage. A young elf woman emerged shyly from the wings, a long guitar cradled gently in her arms. It was Ellyn. Rias kept a straight face. ¡°Is she talented?¡± The dominaa sipped her wine and nodded. ¡°Very.¡± Rias sipped his own. ¡°How did you come across her?¡± The dominaa picked up her fork and daintily skewered a carrot. ¡°She arrived at my door a few nights ago. Ordinarily I wouldn¡¯t take in someone new so close to the night, but she needed help and I owed her a favour.¡± Rias raised an eyebrow. ¡°Did you? That¡¯s rare.¡± The dominaa smiled. ¡°Indeed.¡± She at the carrot. Ellyn began to play. Rias listened quietly. It was beautiful. He recalled her composition from when she had come into the house, alongside a warrior called Asterious and Nathanius, their old loose-ends man. They were a talented group. It was a shame that their situation had developed so poorly. Though with Nathanius involved, not entirely unexpected. The dominaa sat up. ¡°I suppose you¡¯d like to get down to business.¡± Wess set down a forkful of roasted onion. ¡°Already?¡± Rias nodded. ¡°I¡¯m afraid so, brother.¡± He frowned and gently pushed his plate aside. Rias turned back to the dominaa. She was a good host, and skilled at disarming tension, but they had come here with goals. His glance wandered darkly back to Ellyn. It was time to see to them. III. Lon got up from the desk and left the room at a brisk trot. Asterious stared down through the glass. ¡°Got him.¡± He looked to his right. Polly wasn¡¯t wasting any time. Her fingers moved like a spider¡¯s legs. A moment later the lock popped open and she lifted up the glass. ¡°Grab the rope.¡± He dropped it down. They¡¯d tied it off to a clay stovepipe. If they were lucky it would the weight; otherwise when the time came to leave they would have to find a window somewhere and jump. ¡°How much time do we have?¡± Polly got on the rope. ¡°Only a few minutes.¡± Asterious furrowed his brow. ¡°Will that be enough?¡± Polly shook her head. ¡°No way to know. Just hurry.¡± She slid down. The stove pipe held. Asterious put his weight gently on the rope after she was down. He could feel its fibres stretching as he descended. The pipe started to crack about halfway to the floor. Polly hissed. ¡°Jump!¡± Asterious let go of the rope. He fell, scrambling for some way to land quietly, but it was no good. It was twenty feet to the ground. Polly caught him. He looked down at her, one eyebrow peaked in surprise as she held him aloft. She grinned, straining. He nodded. ¡°Well, alright then.¡± Polly set him down, reached into her shoulder pack¡ªwhich Asterious was beginning to think was genuinely bottomless¡ªand drew out the object Azarelle had left with them. They¡¯d have preferred to bring her in. Had she been able to perform the casting once they were inside, they would have had at least ten minutes to search for the vault before the spell burned through its reagents. Instead she had to perform the casting outside; then they had to lower her back down into the alley so she could go around front. It had taken almost the entire duration for her to lure Lon out of the room. Polly held it out. Asterious had seen other spells like it. It looked like a kind of miniature bell shaped from silver wire. Hanging where the knocker would be was a tiny blue stone suspended by a silk thread. At the moment it was lifting itself slightly to one side toward the hall. He took a breath. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s still going.¡± Polly nodded. ¡°You go first. I¡¯ll keep it steady.¡± Asterious went to the door and pressed his ear against it. He didn¡¯t hear anyone on the other side. He turned and nodded at Polly. She nodded back. The silk thread trembled. ¡°Go.¡± They slipped out into the hall. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #39: Lofty Halls Exiles Issue #39 ¡°Lofty Halls¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright March 28th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie Perryman Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Well, it was big. Asterious looked up at the massive gate, smashed open by his father¡¯s siege engines during the bombardment the day before. His men stood around him. They¡¯d cut the horses loose to prevent them being preyed upon after they¡¯d gone. At least in the field they would have a chance. They could always collect them later if they succeeded, and if they failed¡­it wouldn¡¯t matter. His general stood beside him, stoic, a heavy-set man named Lamion Del-Rossi. They¡¯d been together for whole back half of the campaign. He was a fighter of middling quality, but his skills as a sorcerer were not to be trifled with. He kneaded his chin and regarded the gaping corridor beyond the shattered door. ¡°You think it¡¯s safe?¡± Asterious huffed out a laugh. ¡°Perfectly.¡± The comment drew a low chuckle from a few of the men. Del Rossi drew out his pipe and lit it. Asterious raised an eyebrow. ¡°Do you think now¡¯s the time for that?¡± Del Rossi waved the stem of the pipe at the field. ¡°Our losses were heavy crossing the plain, and your father is tied up in the enemy centre. We should wait and move when he arrives.¡± Asterious frowned. ¡°Put out the pipe.¡± Del Rossi laughed. ¡°You can¡¯t be thinking about going in? There are barely fifty of us.¡± Asterious gave him a sharp look. ¡°Keep your voice down. You¡¯ll unnerve the men.¡± He drew his sword and hefted up his shield from where it had been resting against his knee. The man had a point, but his father and the rest of the army had hurled themselves full into the face of the enemy to give them this chance to attack. He could not allow it to go to waste. He turned to Del Rossi. ¡°We are exposed here, and there¡¯s no guarantee that anyone else will break through. If we wait, we may lose everything.¡± Del Rossi held up the pipe. ¡°We only may. If we wait, we assure our victory.¡± ¡°Only if they break through.¡± Asterious glanced back out at the field, a furious inferno of fire and steel burned across the sloping plain. He finished the thought grimly as he turned back to face the frowning sorcerer. ¡°Do you think there¡¯s much chance of that?¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Del Rossi looked out for a moment, forced to concede. He snuffed out his pipe. ¡°We will be direly overmatched.¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°We don¡¯t know how many there are left. Perhaps the numbers will break in our favour.¡± Del Rossi shook his head. ¡°I suppose fortune favours the bold.¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°Indeed.¡± He motioned the men forward. The heavens of the gods are tall and pure, or so the poet said. The mortal races stain them with their ever-dying breath. Asterious had seen the inside of fully eleven of the gods¡¯ palaces¡ªtheir so-called ¡°heavens.¡± Tall, they were, and clean, and white. But pure? No. The corridor was set with the bones of their victims: collected once a season, scoured clean, bleached, and polished until they gleamed like worked alabaster. It made Asterious sick. For how many generations had their brightest and most innocent been spirited away to these soaring¡­charnel houses? For thousands of years they were told that they had been chosen, selected to live with the gods and to bask in their majesty, a glorious destiny reserved only for the finest among them: the brightest, the wisest, the most beautiful, the most talented. It was the divine carrot, dangled in front of the nose of the world so that its people would forgive the ever-present burden of the gods¡¯ weighty dominion. It was only when one of the ¡°selected¡± managed somehow to escape that mortal kind learned the truth. To be chosen was tantamount to murder. They were kept in thrall, tortured, subjected to every kind of horrible depredation to entertain the gods'' carefully concealed appetites for adulation, violence, and lust. In the end, they murdered their favourites and kept their bones, coldly positioned in whatever pursuits had earned them their masters¡¯ favour. Their skulls were carved with their names. To preserve their memory. A disturbing irony, given their even more unsettling penchant for modifying the minds of their subjects, bending their hearts and wills toward the service of their obscene vices. The truth gave rise to the first stirrings of the resistance. It began with the elves: a small group that called themselves the Iiari. The name¡¯s meaning was ¡°to pull down,¡± and while the group itself was slaughtered before the war even began, their name became a rallying cry for revolution. Asterious glanced back over his shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t see any selected.¡± Del Rossi nodded. ¡°They¡¯ll be keeping them with the choir.¡± Asterious nodded. The Halcyon Choir. It was the name the gods had given to themselves. They had been called by it since time immemorial. It used to refer to them all. Of late, it was only used to describe their leaders. They marched. Each man held his sword and shield aloft. Asterious let his gaze wander to the ceiling. The choir would attack from above, using their magic to appear from thin air. They always began with the advantage. It didn¡¯t help that when one fought the gods, the first and foremost imperative was to think of something else. Speak of them sparsely. Think of them rarely. Pray to them, never. The gods drew power from the thoughts of those who dwelled upon them, whether for good or ill. The palace hall was ahead. The door yawned open, shedding a blinding light. They would not see the interior until they passed through. The light flickered briefly with a spot of black, like a sparrow flitting across the sun. Asterious had seen it before. They were coming. The air over their heads began to shimmer. Asterious raised his voice and roared at the top of his lungs. ¡°To arms! Iiari!¡± II. Polly stopped in the middle of the hall. Asterious turned. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± She had her eyes fixed on the wall. Azarelle¡¯s spell had gone still almost ten minutes ago. They¡¯d been operating on the thief¡¯s dead-reckoning ever since. She looked up at him. ¡°This is it.¡± Asterious looked around. There wasn¡¯t a door in sight. ¡°Here?¡± Polly nodded. ¡°I think so. If I¡¯m remembering the layout correctly, there¡¯s a dead space behind this wall.¡± Asterious frowned. ¡°You¡¯re sure.¡± She nodded again. ¡°About the size of a closet.¡± Asterious drew his swords and stood against the wall. ¡°You check it. I¡¯ll keep watch.¡± Polly knelt down and began examining the panelling that lined the corridor. Asterious watched the hall on either side. So far they hadn¡¯t run into any guards. Rias and his brothers must have cleared the place clean out. The only voices they heard were coming from downstairs: Lon and Azarelle, shouting at each other in the foyer. The rest of the guards had probably all been drawn by the commotion. Asterious whispered to Polly with a smile. ¡°They seem to be getting along well.¡± Polly chuckled, moving to the edge of the panel in front of her. She ran her fingers up the edge. ¡°Well, I guess if I would be angry too, if I were him.¡± Asterious shrugged. ¡°I suppose.¡± The shouting continued. Polly kept searching. Asterious stood up from the wall and stood behind her. She was examining the floor. He looked over her shoulder. ¡°You think they¡¯ll make up?¡± Polly cackled. ¡°Well, duh.¡± He drew back, puzzled. ¡°Duh?¡± Polly looked up at him and grinned. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I have a hunch it¡¯s going to be a good night for both of them in the end.¡± Asterious lifted his brow. ¡°Oh?¡± She chuckled again and turned back to her work. ¡°Azarelle saw it during her augury. The two of them were enjoying a moment alone, if you know what I mean.¡± There was another shout froom downstairs. Asterious smirked. ¡°You think that¡¯s likely? They sound pretty angry.¡± Polly got out a long, thin bar of metal from her pack and stuck it into a crease in between the wall panels. She started bumping it upwards with the heel of her palm, speaking over her shoulder. ¡°Azarelle is pretty good when it comes to magic.¡± Asterious nodded, but Polly seemed to pause. She went on, wiggling the bar. ¡°It¡¯s strange, though. I mentioned it earlier on the roof and she didn¡¯t seem to remember that part. Of course these days the only thing she seems to talk about is Tormar taking over Selapak and how much we need to help Valis with his mission.¡± Asterious¡¯s chest tightened. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Polly glanced back at him. ¡°Well, to be honest I think she was pretending. You were standing right there, after all.¡± Asterious felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Gaps in the memory; sudden and furious devotion. It was all too familiar, and to top it all off¡­the smell. Old magic. He knew it had to have been more than his imagination. Valis wasn¡¯t just some spy. He was working with them, and somehow he had gotten to professor, Azarelle. It was the only explanation. There was more going on here that a simple heist. Valis was manipulating them, and probably others as well. The gods needed the Jaspers¡¯ amulets. Why? He didn¡¯t know. He only knew that they had to stop. Polly stood up, pulling hard against her makeshift lever. She twisted it back and forth. Asterious put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Polly¡­¡± She grunted and heaved. The bar clicked and the panel in the wall swung open. ¡°Got it!¡± A piercing sound filled suddenly the air. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #40: The Pain of Comfort Exiles Issue #40 ¡°The Pain of Comfort¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright April 3rd, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Lon took Azarelle to the back kitchen. It was one of the few rooms in the house that was still warm, and he didn¡¯t want to take her to the office. It was too¡­professional, and he didn¡¯t want this talk to feel like a trip to the principal¡¯s office. Azarelle stood across from him by the stove, leaning against the weathered countertop. Lon walked slowly to the table in the middle of the room and rested against it. She waited quietly. He had no idea what to say. He turned to her. ¡°How can you expect me to trust you?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m sorry.¡± He chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re sorry? That¡¯s it?¡± She looked up. ¡°What else can I say? I made a mistake. What more do you want?¡± Lon growled. It was the same as before. She was holding back. It was impossible to know how much. ¡°Azarelle, I need to know what happened. Don¡¯t you see that I have to sell your story to my brothers? I have to give them a reason to spare your life!¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Right, your brothers.¡± He glared. ¡°And what is that supposed to mean?¡± She looked at him. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever do anything on your own? Why do you always have to bring them in?¡± He growled. ¡°Because they¡¯re family. They¡¯re already in! Don¡¯t you understand that at all? We built a life here, and it isn¡¯t just about me. What I do affects them, and while we¡¯re on the subject what you do affects them! I fought like mad to convince them to give you a second chance, and a third, and instead of coming clean, you lied to me!¡± He took a long breath. ¡°I need you to tell me what you did, who was involved and what they¡¯re planning to do next. I need you to show me you want to help us. I need you to show me some kind of¡­¡± She turned. ¡°Some kind of what?¡± ¡°Regret.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Regret?¡± He blew out an exasperated breath. ¡°Yes!!! Is it too much to ask? You betrayed us. You betrayed me! If you really want forgiveness, the least you could do is come back with more than the same tired lines that you were shilling before and show me that you¡¯re capable of giving a damn!¡± Azarelle frowned. ¡°You really do put them before yourself.¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Lon forced himself to take a calm breath and nodded. ¡°I do.¡± She shook her head. ¡°But why? Why always?¡± Lon turned around, facing away from her. He waited a long moment before he answered. ¡°Because it¡¯s my fault that they¡¯re here. Seven years ago I made a stupid decision and it cost us everything. I won¡¯t do that again.¡± He turned back to her. She was still frowning, but her expression had softened. She asked. ¡°What was the mistake?¡± Lon chuckled. ¡°I trusted a woman.¡± She puffed out a little laugh. He went on. ¡°I was selfish. I can¡¯t afford to be that way. Not anymore, not here. No one can, even someone as brilliant as you.¡± Azarelle smiled wordlessly and took a long breath. Lon watched her. A shadow of remorse settled on her fair elven features. He felt sick that he couldn¡¯t trust it. When she finally spoke, the anger had gone from her voice. ¡°What do you need from me?¡± Indeed, what. What should a man ask for? Could he dare? And what in the end would she be willing to give? He answered. ¡°I need the truth. Were you working with them the whole time or did they just recruit you? What did they want you to do and why did you agree to help them? Didn¡¯t we treat you well enough?¡± He paused. ¡°Didn¡¯t I?¡± She shook her head. ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that.¡± Lon crossed his arms. ¡°Well then what was it like?¡± She turned to the fire in the stove and didn¡¯t answer for a long time. In the end she only mumbled. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to be a criminal.¡± Lon raised an eyebrow. ¡°What?¡± She looked up, eyes hard once again. Her voice was knotted with frustration. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to be a criminal!¡± Lon took a step back. Azarelle went on, pacing back and forth and waving her arms. Her cloak picked up the darkness as she walked away from the stove and dropped it again as she returned. She flashed orange and red like she was on fire. ¡°This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen to me! I¡¯m not a criminal! I¡¯m not a prisoner!¡± She spun around and planted her hands on the table, leaning forward. ¡°I am a university professor. I had a career! I had students! People came to me when they needed help. I had my work. I had prospects! I had teaching assistants!¡± She threw up her arms. ¡°I can¡¯t let myself get comfortable here! I can¡¯t let myself get comfortable with you! It¡¯s unendurable! Don¡¯t you see? This isn¡¯t my life!¡± She stopped, catching her breath. Lon stood in front of her. He sympathized. In fact, he knew exactly the feeling she was wrestling with. He¡¯d felt it on the day he and his brothers arrived on Kalkonu, and he¡¯d felt it again the night they had all decided that there really was no going back. It felt like giving up. The permanence of it was as undeniable and as intolerable as death. Still, he found himself beginning to smile. He¡¯d never seen Azarelle so¡­animated. It was kind of cute. He took a step towards her and leaned against the table. ¡°You were getting comfortable with me? She looked up and gave him a flat stare. ¡°Of course. Jerk.¡± He took another step. ¡°But not now?¡± She straightened up. ¡°Well, planting a tracking spell on me certainly didn¡¯t improve your odds.¡± He frowned and stopped walking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that.¡± ¡°Well, sorry doesn¡¯t exactly cover it.¡± He grumbled. There was no way out of this one. ¡°You¡¯re right. I shouldn¡¯t have done it. It was an invasion of your privacy and it was wrong, but it was for your protection. My brothers and I have enemies, and with the night coming and the chance of an invasion¡­I was worried. I didn¡¯t want to lose you.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Uh huh.¡± He took another step forward. ¡°It¡¯s the truth. Azarelle, I¡­¡± He paused. She would never believe him after everything that had happened. It was foolish and stupid, but he had to tell her now. He wouldn¡¯t get another chance. He took a final step forward and stood in front of her. ¡°Azarelle, I love you.¡± She flinched and took a step back. ¡°No you don¡¯t. You and your brothers just needed a pet sorcerer to advance your business.¡± He shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡± She put her hands up, almost covering her ears. ¡°Yes it is!¡± He shook his head again. ¡°It¡¯s not! I love you, Azarelle. I can¡¯t stop thinking about you. When you left¡­it killed me that I might never see you again. I can¡¯t even describe how happy I was when they told me it was you at the door.¡± Her hands felt to her sides, gripping her arms. She whispered. ¡°No. It¡¯s not true. I was just a tool to you. I was a passing fancy. That¡¯s why¡­that¡¯s why it was okay.¡± He took a step away. She was shaken. Maybe pushing everyone away made it easier. No attachments meant no distractions. No fear. But no love either. He knew what to do. ¡°Alright, professor. I tell you what. I¡¯ll prove it.¡± She looked up. ¡°What?¡± He nodded. ¡°You heard me. I¡¯ll prove it.¡± He went to one of the tall cupboards on the wall and pulled it open. It was filled with coffee. A laugh escaped her lips. Then she started to cry. He went to her. ¡°I love you, Azarelle.¡± She didn¡¯t pull away. He kissed her. Lon felt her arms loosen and close around his back as she leaned into his embrace. Her lips were soft and tasted of the chase weed he¡¯d given her, conjuring up memories of vanilla and orange cream. He looked for a long time into her eyes: luminous pools of grey and blue, cloaked in ribbons of liquid dark hair. He brushed the locks aside. ¡°I know this isn¡¯t what you planned, but Azarelle¡­I want you to stay with me. Would you like that?¡± She hesitated for a moment; then nodded. Her voice wavered as she spoke. ¡°Lon, I have something to tell you. Tormar is¡ª¡± She paused abruptly, seeming to strain. One hand went to her temple and she squinted hard, pressing her eyes shut. Lon put a hand out to steady her. ¡°Azarelle, what¡¯s wrong?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­know. I have to tell you¡­ Tormar isn¡¯t the¡ª¡± She winced, stopping again. Lon held her. ¡°What is it? Tormar isn¡¯t what?¡± She struggled. ¡°I¡­can¡¯t¡­remember.¡± The alarm began to sound. Lon jumped back and looked up. ¡°The vault¡­¡± Azarelle¡¯s eyes went wide. He turned back to her. ¡°You!¡± She shook her head. ¡°No! I mean¡­I was going to tell you!¡± He took another step back. ¡°You used me.¡± She cried out. ¡°No! Wait!¡± The sound of boots thudded in the hallway. Two men came crashing through the door. Lon turned to them. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Get upstairs!¡± They ran off. Lon turned back to Azarelle. ¡°You used me! Again!¡± She came towards him. ¡°No! I mean yes! But please just listen. I have to tell you¡ª¡± She winced again, clutching her forehead. Lon growled. ¡°Tell me what?¡± Her teeth were clenched tight. ¡°About the augury. There was something else¡­¡± She grunted in pain. Lon took a step back. It was obvious something was wrong, but it didn¡¯t matter. It was too late. She¡¯d had too many chances already. He pointed to the door. ¡°You should go.¡± She was nearly doubled over as she looked up at him. ¡°Lon¡­please¡­¡± He stepped aside. His gut wrenched. He could feel his heart twisting in his chest. ¡°You have to leave, Azarelle. I¡¯m sorry, but please¡­just go. I¡¯ll tell the men to let you out.¡± Tears were streaming down her face as she moved to the door. She stopped at the threshold and looked back. She spoke through sobs. ¡°It wasn¡¯t all an act.¡± Lon regarded her. His face felt hard. His chest ached. It was a pain he hadn¡¯t felt in a long time. He shook his head. Was there more to be said? Was there not? Believe her. Don¡¯t believe her. It didn¡¯t matter now. With this¡­when his brothers returned there would be nothing he could do. He went to the cupboard. ¡°Here.¡± He took down a bag of coffee and tossed it to her. ¡°For the road.¡± She caught it. A fleeting moment passed and then she left. Lon crumpled slowly to the ground, pounding his fists while tears made soft spatters on the floor. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #41: The Great Escape Exiles Issue #41 ¡°The Great Escape¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright April 4th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Asterious bolted down the corridor after Polly. It was dark. The cry of the alarm filled the house, piercing their ears until blood ran. He shouted forward. ¡°Which way is it?¡± Polly glanced back over her shoulder. ¡°Up on the right!¡± The corridor was dark. Only a few dim candles flickered and sputtered in glass flutes affixed to the wall. They ran. Polly stuffed the box they¡¯d taken from the vault into her bag. It was the only thing in the vault, apart from a few bottles of whiskey and a bag of gemstones: the Jaspers¡¯ cash reserve for the long night when their stamped ingots would no longer be any good for trade. He¡¯d hoped to find whatever magic the Jaspers had tucked away for their supposed escape plan. Sadly, no luck. Still, they¡¯d got what they¡¯d come for. Now all they had to do was get out. Easy. The stairs were up ahead. Two men came running up. He could hear more behind them. Polly ducked around them. A pair of hands snaked out. They were aiming for Polly; they got the bag instead. The thick strap went suddenly taught and practically lifted her off the ground. Polly yelped. Her knife flashed out, slashing. The hand came off at the wrist. The man howled and lurched back. Asterious barrelled into him and pushed him down the stairs into his partner. They both fell off balance and tumbled back. There were six more on their way up; probably every guard in the whole damn place. Polly shouted. ¡°Come on!¡± They kept running. The rope in the office was a no go. Polly was leading the way across the house to Azarelle¡¯s former apartment. It had a balcony facing the street. Her leg gave out. She stumbled and hit the floor with a grunt. Asterious caught her up by the collar as he bounded down the hall. ¡°Which door?¡± She pointed. ¡°That one!¡± It was locked. Asterious took a step back and kicked. The wood didn¡¯t budge. He turned to Polly. ¡°Any other ideas?¡± She reached into her bag. ¡°Buy me some time.¡± Asterious drew his swords. The metal flashed in the dim light as five men came running up the hall. ¡°Great¡­¡± He took the first one almost without effort. The first was always the easiest. Brutes always came charging in without a thought. The long blade pierced his leather armour like a needle through a bolt of cloth. They weren¡¯t his swords. The true High Blades of Gondavol were lost long ago. He¡¯d had them when he¡¯d gone to his first death, but one of the more miserable points of his curse was that while he would never truly go to his end; neither would he simply die. He would always be killed. The fact that he never returned until all of his friends had lived out their lives inevitably gave whoever killed him a hell of a head start. He¡¯d managed to reclaim his possessions once or twice, but in the end they all were all lost to time. As was Gondavol. As was he. He¡¯d had these two swords made during his last visit to Kalkonu. That was¡­a hundred years go? Two? It was hard to keep track. Luckily, the last time he¡¯d had a chance to stash a few things before the end. They were enchanted. He¡¯d performed the magic himself. He¡¯d never been much of a sorcerer, but every mortal soldier during the Iiari knew at least two spells: one to allow a weapon to pierce the gods¡¯ flesh, and another to guard against their magic.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Of course he named them. It was the only proper thing to do. The long blade was Whisker. He¡¯d named it for a cat he¡¯d kept in his youth¡ªOver the years he¡¯d used all the more sentimental names he could think of on other weapons, and it didn¡¯t seem right to re-use them¡ªIt was a duelling sabre. The blade was thin and perfectly balanced. It held the enchantment to slay. The short blade with the basket hilt was called Lamp, because it drove back darkness. It held the enchantment to guard. He¡¯d enchanted them purely out of habit, and because the magic gave them a keener edge. He never imagined that they would ever see their old enemies again, or that he would. But what about Valis? Just how exactly was the dark sorcerer from Gelande involved? Was he in league with them? Or was he merely an agent of Tormar as he said? There was so little time to find out. The second man charged in with two more of his friends behind him. The metal of their weaons flashed dully in the candlelight. Axes. They were cheaper than swords. The blade came down. Asterious brought his right hand around and deflected it with the basket of his sword, bringing his knee up into the man¡¯s gut. He groaned and staggered but he didn¡¯t go down. His friend swung in. Asterious rolled backwards to avoid the cut. The head buried itself in the floor. He slashed out with his left hand, severing the leg of the groaning man as he struggled to get up. He yowled and collapsed to the floor, clutching the wounded stump. The two in the back drew crossbows. Asterious spoke over his shoulder. ¡°Polly? Are you ready?¡± She was attaching something to the door. ¡°Just a second!¡± The first crossbow fired. Asterious lunged to the side. The bolts missed him by inches and whipped down the corridor, imbedding themselves in the wall. The guards began to reload as their friend recovered his axe from the floor and moved in. The crossbows cranked, their bolts glinted, and the scene was starting to feel just a little familiar. Asterious smiled. He¡¯d been killed so many times even death had taken on an air of monotony. He lashed out as the third man swung again, striking at his hands and arms. The crossbows fired again. He dodged, managing to avoid the first, but the second¡¯s aim was too true. The bolt struck him in the shoulder. Asterious winced and gritted his teeth as he felt his left arm go slack. He looked back again at Polly. ¡°Now, Polly!¡± She jumped back from the door and struck a match, which she flicked at a bundle of sticky oiled cloth she¡¯d attached to the door. She shouted. ¡°Fire in the hole!¡± Asterious turned. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Get down!¡± The bundle exploded in a cloud of flame that filled the corridor with choking black smoke. The guards were blown off their feet. Asterious covered his face as a shower of splintered wood and broken plaster filled the hall. Polly was already moving. ¡°Come on!¡± She ran into the room. Asterious coughed and staggered in after her. The door swung loose on its hinges. The lock had been blown apart. They shut the door behind them and tipped a cabinet over in front of it. The apartment was bare. Azarelle must have packed everything up before she left; that or the Jaspers had come in after and cleaned it out. There was only a huge iron stove, sitting cold in the corner of the workspace. Polly ran to it. ¡°Get the window!¡± He did. The shutters weren¡¯t locked. He threw them open and looked out at the square. It was empty. Polly ran up beside him. ¡°I don¡¯t see the wagon.¡± II. Rias finished his wine. The meeting had gone well. As expected, the dominaa had not been pleased when informed of Nathanius¡¯s deception. It was one thing to take in refugees; quite another to harbour fugitives. She¡¯d led them all backstage and ordered the guards to fetch Nathanius and Ellyn at once. Now they waited. The dominaa frowned. ¡°I knew there was something wrong about the two of them the moment they came back.¡± Rias raised an eyebrow. ¡°Came back?¡± She nodded. ¡°I took them in for a night when they came to the city. They¡¯d rescued one of my girls. It¡¯s sad, really. I had a good feeling about Ellyn. I even offered her a place.¡± Rias straightened up. ¡°Indeed. Sad.¡± They¡¯d sorted out the terms over dinner. As expected, she wouldn¡¯t be turning over Ellyn. To do so would go against everything her organization stood for. It was acceptable. Besides, he was certain the dominaa would conjure up an appropriately severe punishment for the musician. It would surely be merciful when compared to the plans he had in store for her friends. As for the dominaa, they¡¯d come to a simple arrangement: the sharing of supplies and information during the night. He¡¯d hoped for more. An alliance would have been preferable, but she was hedging her bets¡­just in case their enemies were victorious. Still, it was a beginning. Larger empires had been founded upon less. The guards returned. They only had Ellyn with them. She was taller up close. Rias had only ever seen her on stage. The dominaa regarded her coldly for a moment before turning to the guards. ¡°Where is her partner?¡± They shook their heads. ¡°We checked his quarters. There was a rope out the window.¡± Rias frowned. ¡°It seems he never intended to stay.¡± The dominaa turned to Ellyn. ¡°Where is he?¡± She shook her head, cowering. ¡°I don¡¯t know, dominaa.¡± The woman loomed. ¡°You took an oath young lady and I will to hold you to it. Now straighten up!¡± She did. ¡°The truth! Now!¡± Ellyn looked at the floor. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t know where they went.¡± Rias¡¯s head snapped around. ¡°Wait. They?¡± A look of alarm flashed briefly across the young elf¡¯s features as he slowly came forward. Nathanius. Their old fixer was clever. He always hit you in the ways you didn¡¯t expect. Wess raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, brother?¡± Rias extended a hand and gently took hold of the young woman¡¯s jaw. The dominaa turned. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Rias waved her off. ¡°It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m not going to hurt her.¡± He turned back to Ellyn, hoping to be mistaken, but the puzzle was slowly becoming clear, or rather the question was: why would Nathanius and Ellyn exchange something as valuable the dominaa¡¯s favour and good will, only to deceive her? And why would they bring him and his brothers here to re-capture them? He pulled gently. Ellyn¡¯s face came away in a gentle shower of fine red mist, transforming to paper in his hands. It was marked with magic. The dominaa¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Eldra?¡± Rias spoke. ¡°I knew she looked too tall.¡± The woman was human. Judging by her markings and the magic, she was a journeyman of the guild. She turned and spoke to her master. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, dominaa. I couldn¡¯t refuse her. She saved my life.¡± Rias turned to his brothers and growled. ¡°We have to go. Nathanius has drawn us out.¡± III. Polly pointed. ¡°There they are!¡± They were just about to jump when the wagon came barrelling up the street. It was the same one they¡¯d had when they came to the city. Nathanius and Ellyn had been tasked with retrieving it from the Jaspers¡¯ livery. Polly looked back. The guards were pushing through the door. ¡°What about Azarelle?¡± Asterious frowned as he stowed his swords and got ready to jump. ¡°She¡¯s a good sorcerer. If we¡¯re lucky she¡¯s already outside.¡± Polly stopped him. ¡°And if she¡¯s not?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Polly, we have to go.¡± The wagon pulled up under the window. Nathanius was on the driver¡¯s bench with Ellyn beside him. He looked up and shouted. ¡°Jump! Hurry!¡± Asterious turned to face her. The wound on her leg had re-opened. Her trousers were running with blood. She would never manage the landing. ¡°I¡¯ll go first. I can catch you.¡± She nodded. Asterious leapt from the balcony and rolled across the roof to his feet. He turned and raised his arms. His shoulder twinged and he winced. Polly suffered a final look back into the room before she jumped. Asterious caught her, grunting in pain. They crumpled to the roof. Polly yelped, clutching her leg as she rolled over to face Nathanius. ¡°Has Azarelle come out?¡± He turned. ¡°She¡¯s not with you?!¡± Asterious answered bluntly. ¡°It hasn¡¯t exactly been an easy ride.¡± The front door to the house cracked open. Orange light spilled out into the square. Ellyn pointed. ¡°There!¡± Azarelle emerged in a daze. She approached at a slow walk, clutching a bag of coffee in her arms. Polly raised an eyebrow. ¡°You stopped for coffee?¡± She looked down, confused. ¡°No¡­no, I¡­Lon gave it to me.¡± Polly furrowed her brow. ¡°Gave it to you?¡± She nodded. ¡°He let me go.¡± Polly frowned. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Nathanius growled. ¡°We¡¯ll he¡¯s not going to be as kind to the rest of us. Get on!¡± Azarelle climbed aboard, a sort of strained expression on her face. Her eyes were vacant; her cheeks were red from crying. Polly jumped down and climbed in after her. The sound of drums rose up suddenly in the dark. Asterious turned looked out at the city. A red glow was rising in the east. Ellyn whispered. ¡°The invasion.¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°It¡¯s starting.¡± He cracked the whip. The animals kicked and brayed and the wagon rumbled off into the dark. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #42: Loose Ends Exiles Issue #42 ¡°Loose Ends¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright April 5th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Valis strode up the corridor. It was a grim business, but the time had come. The sorcerer¡¯s task would be completed by now, nearly the last of the great many that would ultimately bring about his masters¡¯ dominion. The carpet shifted. Valis stepped around it. As he passed, the material mounded up and followed, drifting behind him like a wave on the air. Valis grumbled. ¡°Very well, then.¡± He shook his shoulder, letting the chain fall. Shadows and smoke began to pool at his feet. He kept the chain wrapped around his arm. It was fast becoming his favourite tool. As it fell, he caught a curl of its black links in his palm. He turned, flinging the long chain out. Black tentacles of darkness and smoke lashed out across the hallway, catching up the rising folds of the sorcerer¡¯s parlour trick: a catching carpet. Quaint. He tore it to shreds. The red wool tatters fell in ribbons and frayed clumps to the now bare floor. He heard a man laugh in a room just off the hall. Del Rossi¡¯s bilious tone was unmistakable. Valis approached with caution. The sorcerer was a glutton and a buffoon, but a dangerous buffoon was still a danger to the unwary, and a treacherous glutton, a threat. It was a fool who believed otherwise of the masters of magic. Valis kept up his guard as he entered. Del Rossi was seated on his silken cushion, enrobed as he always was in a cloud of fragrant smoke. The trappings of luxury lay around him and hung upon the walls: food, drink, and a hundred glistening blades of silver and gold. He looked up. ¡°Sorry about the carpet.¡± Valis raised an eyebrow. ¡°You should be more careful with your defences.¡± The old man coughed out a chuckle. ¡°My defences are adequate. I assure you I have nothing to fear. It¡¯s time then?¡± Valis nodded. ¡°You¡¯ve certainly had more than enough. Is it ready?¡± Del Rossi nodded. ¡°It is.¡± Valis stepped forward. ¡°Give it to me.¡± Del Rossi leaned back in his pillow. It seemed to swallow him up. ¡°Of course.¡± He gestured with one hand. A fragment of broken stone floated up from one of the side-tables, turning gently through the air as if it were borne up by a draft. Valis caught it. ¡°This is it?¡± Del Rossi nodded. ¡°Mainly.¡± Valis examined the slab. The sorcerer¡¯s notes were extensive. It would take weeks to familiarize himself with the casting, especially since it appeared to be¡­ He looked up. ¡°It¡¯s incomplete.¡± Del Rossi chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re a quick one.¡± Valis put the slab in his pocket and held out his hand. ¡°The rest of it, now.¡± Del Rossi shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll need a few things.¡± Valis growled. ¡°You¡¯ve been well compensated.¡± Del Rossi shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s a matter of opinion.¡± Valis took a forced breath. The chain in his hand began to stir. Smoke bled down the iron links. ¡°We had a deal, wizard.¡± Del Rossi raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wizard, eh? I haven¡¯t been called that in a while.¡± He genuflected in his seat. ¡°I¡¯m honoured.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Valis roared. ¡°Give me the casting!¡± Darkness swirled around him in rising waves, infested with grasping tentacles and ribbons of slicing black shadow. The lights in the room plunged into oblivion. The objects on the wall twitched. Valis checked himself. ¡°What do you want?¡± Del Rossi smoked, idly. ¡°Assurances.¡± Valis gritted his teeth. ¡°Such as?¡± ¡°That when all is said and done, I will have my curse lifted, and that your masters¡¯ will ensure that I am deposited on a suitably¡­enjoyable plane.¡± He thumped his chest. ¡°Quite a few skeletons in this man¡¯s closet, though not so many, I think, as in your masters¡¯¡± Valis shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know what curse you speak of, but no one can make that kind of guarantee.¡± Del Rossi smiled. ¡°Oh? I thought they were gods?¡± Valis glared. ¡°They are.¡± Del Rossi shifted his weight in his seat, straightening up. ¡°Then it should be a simple matter.¡± He went on. ¡°I also want to live out this life in plenty, accompanied by¡­¡± He paused. ¡°Perhaps twenty servants of my choosing; oh, and there must be a hot bath.¡± Servants? A bath? Valis¡¯s face darkened. ¡°You¡¯re stalling.¡± Del Rossi smiled. ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Del Rossi brought up his arms and gestured to the walls. The weapons upon them trembled. ¡°Because I know the real reason you have come.¡± The weapons flung themselves from the walls, whipping like arrows from the sky towards Valis. He shook the chain. The dark responded. A hundred tentacles and ribbons slashed out, deflecting the blows and catching the weapons out of the air. Del Rossi stood. ¡°There was never to be any reward.¡± Valis shook the chain again and flung the weapons at him. He brought up a hand. There was a flash of coloured light. They all turned to paper. Valis chuckled. ¡°Were they ever real?¡± Del Rossi bobbed his head. ¡°Is anything?¡± Valis shook his head. ¡°My masters know you. They would never allow someone with your skill and knowledge to exist.¡± The old sorcerer grinned. ¡°Odd. If it weren¡¯t for them, I would have died of old age many centuries ago. Funny little world, isn¡¯t it?¡± Valis tightened his grip. He detested this man and his insufferable turns of phrase. They¡¯d been discussing his progress for weeks, and he¡¯d yet to utter a single plain sentence. He reached into his cloak and gripped the godsbone. The shadows in the room expanded and grew, until there was no light and no space except the few feet between them. He extended a hand. ¡°Give me the rest, Del Rossi. If you do¡­I might just let you leave here alive.¡± Del Rossi smiled. ¡°You still don¡¯t see it, do you?¡± Valis looked around. ¡°See what?¡± He smiled. ¡°I told you already. I have nothing to fear.¡± The table and the tall smoking pipe suddenly crumpled, falling to shreds of parchment, along with the table, the cushion, the rug on the floor¡­and the man. ¡°I departed this place the same night you knocked on my door. You have been dealing with a puppet.¡± Valis¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Power blinds. You really should pay closer attention.¡± Valis growled, wrenching the chain forward. Darkness rushed in, rending and tearing. A flurry of paper disbursed onto the floor. Valis roared. A throatless voice echoed in the black. ¡°Take heed, young sorcerer. The last son of Gondavol approaches. You would do well not to stand in his path.¡± II. Asterious grabbed a box and lifted it up. They were stacking the roof of the wagon with as much of Valis¡¯s materiel as they could carry, hauling it up from the hidden basement into the workshop. Ellyn shoved the box into place and began to tie it down. They couldn¡¯t bring it all. Azarelle was prioritizing the flotsam. Asterious picked up another. Azarelle shook her head and pointed. ¡°Not that one. Get the one next to it.¡± Asterious complied, regarding her quietly. He¡¯d been keeping an eye on her the whole night, thinking. There was no telling what Valis had commanded her to do. She wouldn¡¯t even be aware of it until it was too late. He lifted the crate she¡¯d indicated and pushed it through the rear door of the wagon; then he climbed in and called her over. ¡°Come here.¡± She turned. ¡°What is it?¡± He pointed to the crate. ¡°Help me shift this.¡± She climbed in after him and took hold of the crate. Asterious braced himself. He would have only moments to act. His right hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. Move fast. ¡°Okay, push!¡± Azarelle lurched. Steel sang. Asterious whipped the sword out and reached forward, catching hold of her collar. She yelped as he yanked her forward, pulled her down, and pressed the flat of the blade against her forehead. The blade flashed against her skin. Asterious frowned. That was it then. He lowered his voice. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but this is really going to hurt.¡± The blade blazed. Azarelle¡¯s eyes burst with white light. She shrieked as her body wrenched and contorted, arms thrashing and knuckles bent askew. Asterious held her down as Nathanius came running over to the door. ¡°What are you doing?!¡± Asterious turned to look at him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. She¡¯ll be fine!¡± Polly arrived. Her eyes went wide with rage. ¡°Get off of her!¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°No, wait!¡± She leapt through the opening with her blade drawn, diving for his exposed back. He let go of Azarelle as the Halfling drove into him. She planted herself on his chest and drove the knife down towards his neck. He caught her wrist. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to hurt her!¡± She pressed down harder. He struggled with all his strength to hold her back. The point of the blade touched his throat. Nathanius came up behind them. ¡°Enough! Polly, stop!¡± She shouted back. ¡°You saw what he was doing!¡± Nathanius climbed into the wagon. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I saw. Now stop it, will you?¡± Asterious looked up at her. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. There was a spell on her. I had to remove it.¡± Nathanius looked at him. ¡°A spell?¡± Asterious nodded stiffly. Polly didn¡¯t move. ¡°I suspected it before. I would have told you but I wasn¡¯t sure until tonight when Polly told me about the augury.¡± Nathanius eyed him skeptically. ¡°We already knew about her vision.¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°Not all of it.¡± Nathanius turned to Polly, his face suddenly suspicious. ¡°What does he mean?¡± Polly eased off, shaking her head insistently. ¡°It was nothing! A personal matter. It didn¡¯t mean anything.¡± Asterious sat up. ¡°No...¡± He turned to face Azarelle. ¡°It means everything. It means we have another enemy. I would have said something sooner, but I had to be sure. Even after I knew¡­it wasn¡¯t safe to say until I figured out how far they had come.¡± Polly gave him a flat look. ¡°And who are ¡®they,¡¯ exactly?¡± Asterious looked him in the eye. ¡°The gods.¡± III. It was preposterous. Nathanius laughed aloud. ¡°The gods? That¡¯s impossible.¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°I wish you were right, but they¡¯re here. They¡¯ve been here, hiding, probably for eons.¡± ¡°Not a chance.¡± Asterious insisted. ¡°It makes sense. Just think about it: a remote continent, barely populated, no government. It would have been the perfect place to hide.¡± Nathanius crossed his arms. They were sitting in a circle at the back of the wagon. Azarelle was still inside. She was unconscious, knocked out cold by whatever strange magic Asterious had used to ¡°cure¡± her. It was an impossible story, and yet coming from Asterious it seemed almost believable. There was a kind of dour, fearful honesty couched in his voice. Nathanius was accustomed to reading people, and in this case his intuition was leading him to an inescapable conclusion: Asterious, at least, did not believe that he was lying. Nathanius chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to help me on this one. How do you know it¡¯s them?¡± Asterious pointed at Azarelle. ¡°The gods can alter the memories of mortal creatures, removing and replacing them with their own will, with their own thoughts, and with their own ambitions.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°Polly said that Azarelle was unsure about aiding Valis until a few days ago; then suddenly all she could think about was helping him¡­and then that she had forgotten how the augury ended.¡± Nathanius raised an eyebrow and looked at Polly. She answered. ¡°That part is true.¡± Asterious¡¯s voice tightened. ¡°The gods can sense when someone is thinking about them. They draw power from it. She must have seen something in her vision that drew their attention. They must have ordered Valis to bring her under their control.¡± He tapped the hilt of his short sword. ¡°The magic in this blade dispels their magic. I was freeing her from their influence.¡± Nathanius looked over at Azarelle. ¡°Assuming I believed you, did it work?¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°No way to know until she wakes up.¡± Polly raised her hand. ¡°I have a question.¡± He turned. ¡°How do we know you aren¡¯t out of your mind? The gods can sense when someone is thinking about them? The gods alter memories? How do you know any of this? The gods have been dead for thousands of years. Everyone knows that. The mortal races killed them during the Iiari. Remember? The Iiari?¡± Asterious chuckled. ¡°Yes, I remember the Iiari.¡± Nathanius cut in. ¡°Then you know what you¡¯re saying can¡¯t be true.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°So tell us then, how do you know?¡± Asterious grumbled. This is where he always lost them. He rarely told anyone about the peculiar nature of his existence; not because he didn¡¯t care to share, but because it always seemed to cause more problems than it solved. He answered reluctantly. ¡°Because I was there.¡± Polly got out her knife. ¡°That¡¯s it. This is where I get off the ride. Let¡¯s just leave him and get out of here.¡± Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°Leave him?¡± She nodded. ¡°He¡¯s out of his damn mind, and obviously dangerous. I mean give me a break. He just told us that he is thousands of years old. Are we really supposed to buy that? And the gods are alive? And here? It¡¯s a load of crap!¡± The conversation lapsed. Someone started clapping. A dark crow settled on the roof of the wagon. They turned. Valis was standing in the door. ¡°No, Miss Toffel,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that it is not.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #43: Dark Designs Exiles Issue #43 ¡°Dark Designs¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright April 5th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Nathanius stood up slowly. ¡°How did you find us?¡± Valis smiled. ¡°You don¡¯t expect me to answer that, do you?¡± A long cluster of iron chain dangled from his hand. They glided across the floor, seeming to move entirely on their own. The long strands ran like rivulets of water, heralding his steady approach. Asterious drew his weapons. ¡°Stay back.¡± Valis shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think I will.¡± Nathanius turned to Ellyn. ¡°Get in the wagon.¡± She shook her head. ¡°What good is hiding going to do?¡± Valis laughed. ¡°Indeed.¡± She glared at him. ¡°What do you want?¡± He tilted his head. ¡°What we agreed upon, of course.¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°Not going to happen.¡± Valis shook the chain. It clattered against the weathered wood of the workshop floor. Darkness began to flood off his fist, a spill of black oil, serpents, and smoke. It spread at a disturbing pace. Nathanius took a step back. ¡°Stop.¡± Valis shook his head. ¡°No.¡± Asterious stepped forward. The short blade in his right hand glowed. He growled. ¡°I knew it. The gods¡¯ magic.¡± Valis nodded. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re familiar with it.¡± Nathanius¡¯ glance shifted briefly to Asterious. The man looked back and subtly shook his head. He didn¡¯t know. The darkness closed in around them, keeping a slim distance from the group. Valis came forward. ¡°Miss Toffel. The box, please.¡± Nathanius glanced back at the wagon. Polly was by the door. The situation was no good. They didn¡¯t have any choice. He nodded to her.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Give it to him.¡± She started rummaging in her bag. ¡°What do you want with them anyway?¡± Valis shook his head. ¡°That is not for you to know. It is only for you to comply.¡± He extended a hand. ¡°Now, hand them over.¡± The box emerged from the bag. It was a nondescript container, a simple wooden case without a latch. She dropped it. The amulets spilled out. There were more than a dozen in all. She looked up in a panic. ¡°Sorry!¡± Valis growled. The shadows edged closer. Thin tendrils of sinuous smoke slithered out. ¡°Pick them up!¡± She did, stuffing them back in the box. Ellyn helped her. Nathanius watched her closely as the thief flipped the box lid shut. Ellyn pulled a scarf from her clothes and tied it shut. They held it out. The bird, Nexus, swooped down from the wagon and snatched it from her hands. It carried the parcel to its master, still standing sentinel in the dark. Nathanius nodded to him. ¡°There. As promised. Now we let us go.¡± Valis chuckled. ¡°I never agreed to let you go.¡± Nathanius took a tentative step forward. The darkness curled around his heels. Its touch was cold as ice. He shivered as he took a breath. ¡°We kept to the deal. You have what you need. If you really do work for the gods, we can¡¯t possibly harm you now.¡± Valis gave a grim laugh. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly run from what¡¯s coming. You should embrace it as I have. The three of you could be of use, and you¡­¡± He looked towards Ellyn. ¡°You would make a lovely statuette.¡± Asterious¡¯s knuckles cracked. Nathanius waved him off and took another step. The shadowy tendrils now formed around his knees. ¡°What can we offer you? We¡¯ll pay? Surely we can come to an arrangement.¡± Valis tutted in his cheek. ¡°Bribery? Nathanius, I expect better from my opponents.¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ve never been your opponents. You hired us to do a job and we did. We¡¯re reliable. I¡¯m sure you can see that. What harm is there in letting us go? Leave us alive and you can hire us again in the future.¡± Valis smiled. ¡°I think you¡¯ll find there¡¯s very little future left.¡± He paused, contemplating. ¡°But perhaps you¡¯re right.¡± Polly raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really?¡± Valis nodded, walking in an idle circle in the pool of shadow. ¡°Good help is hard to find, after all, and good help that owes you¡­well that¡¯s even harder.¡± He turned back to them. ¡°But there will be a price.¡± Ellyn spoke up. Her voice was hard. ¡°What?¡± Valis answered. ¡°My masters offer power, but few material rewards. Perhaps a little bribe would be in order.¡± Polly looked around. ¡°You want money?¡± Valis shook his head and pointed at the wagon. ¡°Hardly.¡± He shook the chain. The darkness rose up the narrow wagon ladder and slid inside. Polly moved. ¡°Hey!¡± Ellyn held her back as Azarelle¡¯s limp form was dragged slowly out from the compartment and floated to the ground, swimming on a river of smoke. Polly struggled. ¡°Let go of her!¡± Ellyn held her fast. ¡°Stop it. We can¡¯t do anything.¡± Valis put up a hand. ¡°You should listen to her.¡± The smoke shifted and began to coil around Azarelle¡¯s neck. Polly stopped. She growled. ¡°Why?¡± Valis smiled. ¡°It is the payment that I have chosen. Her life in exchange for all of yours. I can assure you she will be well¡­kept.¡± He turned to Nathanius. ¡°Do we have a deal?¡± Polly shouted. ¡°No!¡± Nathanius ignored her. ¡°We do.¡± Polly turned to him in rage. ¡°You coward!¡± She lunged forward. Asterious and Ellyn dove on top of her and wrestled her to the ground. Ellyn looked up at Valis. Her eyes were like ice. ¡°Just take her and go.¡± Valis snapped his fingers. The sound echoed across the room. The darkness retreated, carrying Azarelle with it to his feet. ¡°A wise choice.¡± He walked out. In the door, he turned and suffered a final glance back at Asterious. ¡°Most odd,¡± he said. ¡°I wonder if you truly are as remarkable as he said.¡± The door shut. II. Polly spat. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you let him take her! Don¡¯t you realize what he has in mind? You¡¯re willing to leave her to that? You rotten, detestable, filthy, slave-merchant!¡± She hit him. Asterious stepped in between before she could do it again. Nathanius massaged his jaw. ¡°It was the only choice.¡± Polly roared. ¡°There is always a choice! We could have done something! We could have fought him!¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°You know that isn¡¯t true. He had the drop on us. If we had fought him we would all have been killed; alive we still have a chance to save her.¡± Ellyn looked up. ¡°So we are going after her.¡± Nathanius turned to her and nodded. A weak smile flitted across his face. ¡°Not long ago, someone insisted on teaching me a lesson: that sometimes it pays to risk your neck for someone else¡¯s. Azarelle is a powerful sorcerer. It would be a crime to leave someone so useful to such a¡­base end.¡± Ellyn gave him a flat look. ¡°So it¡¯s still just self-interest then?¡± Nathanius chuckled. ¡°Baby steps, Ellyn.¡± She nodded, a ghost of approval flicked across her grim features. He turned away. ¡°Besides, she helped us. We owe her, and even I wouldn¡¯t leave someone in the hands of that sociopath.¡± Nathanius turned to Polly. ¡°I promise: we won¡¯t leave her behind. Do you trust me?¡± She seemed to calm. Asterious stepped aside. She answered. ¡°No.¡± He smiled. ¡°Smart.¡± Asterious turned to face him. ¡°So what do we do now?¡± Nathanius turned to the wagon. ¡°We finish packing. We¡¯ll figure out the rest while we work.¡± Polly grimaced. ¡°You want us to pack? Is that really what¡¯s important right now?¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°It is. Whatever happens, when it¡¯s over we¡¯ll have to leave the city in a hurry. We¡¯ll need those supplies if we¡¯re to have any hope of making it through the night.¡± He turned to Asterious. ¡°In the meantime, start talking.¡± Asterious raised an eyebrow. ¡°Me?¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°Tell us everything you know about the gods.¡± Asterious nodded and moved to the pile of crates. He picked one up and took a breath. ¡°Alright,¡± he said. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll start at the beginning.¡± III. Valis moved quietly along the street. The spell pulled Azarelle along behind. Her dark hair blended with the smoke. Her fair face caught the moonlight. Her skin glowed like new snow. An unexpected bonus. He would have to keep her hidden, at least until his masters had control of the city; after that, no one would notice an extra concubine wandering around. ¡°¡­¡± He raised an eyebrow. True. Wandering would probably have to wait. Her will was strong. There was no way that she would simply submit, and for now there were more important matters to attend to. ¡°¡­¡± He nodded. ¡°Yes, back to the basement.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m not going to tell them about the sorcerer.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°No, not that one either.¡± ¡°¡­¡± Valis glowered. He took the half-tablet out of his pocket. It was inscribed on slate. There was no telling how long Del Rossi had been leading him on. The man was full of lies, but this fragment at least appeared to be legitimate. He must have taken the other half. He grumbled. It would take months to compose the casting without it. Maybe even years. He put it away. ¡°¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure. First things first.¡± He would tell his masters after the invasion was complete. He shook the wooden box under his arm. The amulets jostled inside, their magic would be more than enough. He heard a shout. The sounds of battle were beginning sound in the streets. The horns had sounded. Tormar had come, and the so-called armies of the syndicate were responding to the call. Soon battle would be joined: a host of puppets against a legion of fools. His masters would arrive to the fanfare mayhem and destruction. Then it would all be over. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #44: The Storms Approach Exiles Issue #44 ¡°The Storm¡¯s Approach¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright April 6th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The city was burning. The enemy was moving in from the northeast, following the long path along the Whitecourse from Tormar. They¡¯d been in the city for six hours. Lon stood with his brothers, watching from the roof of the mansion. Wess spoke first, keeping his eyes on the blaze. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I thought they wanted to take the city. Why start a fire?¡± Kiel answered. ¡°The volunteers started it.¡± Wess raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡± Kiel nodded. ¡°The undead burn. They wanted to slow the advance.¡± Wess chuckled. ¡°Not a bad idea.¡± Lon frowned. ¡°According to the block captains the fire already covers three districts. We¡¯ll never be able to put it out.¡± Rias pointed to a distant street. ¡°We¡¯ll have to demolish the buildings in its path. If we create a fire break, maybe we can save the centre city.¡± Alto shrugged. ¡°We were never going to be able to save everybody. I hadn¡¯t expected to cull them this way.¡± Lon looked over. ¡°That¡¯s pretty cold.¡± Alto chuckled. ¡°Not as cold as they¡¯re going to be.¡± Rias spoke to Kiel. ¡°What do you predict?¡± He kneaded his chin between his thumb and forefinger. ¡°The men are fighting hard. We may yet be victorious.¡± Wess smiled. ¡°They all want a place in the estate. They¡¯re killing the undead by the dozen; turning in the heads to the block captains.¡± Lon raised an eyebrow. ¡°The heads?¡± Wess grinned. ¡°To count their kills. They are one-to-one.¡± Lon chuckled and turned to Alto. ¡°So, how many can we save?¡± His brother thought about it for a moment. ¡°A few hundred. It would have been more if your woman hadn¡¯t gotten involved.¡± Lon frowned. ¡°I apologized for the amulets.¡± Rias¡¯s put up a hand to silence them. His face was firm as he looked out into the city. ¡°An apology doesn¡¯t fix it. We promised them five hundred living spaces. Thanks to the, we¡¯ll be able to accommodate less than half that. There will be a revolt when they find out, which is precisely what we¡¯d hoped to avoid.¡± Wess cut in, raising his hand. ¡°Where do you suppose they took them? The amulets, I mean.¡± Rias answered. ¡°To the spy from Tormar, no doubt. He will deliver them to his masters.¡± Kiel spoke. ¡°He¡¯ll have to cross our lines to do that. I¡¯ll tell the block captains to keep an eye out. Maybe someone will pick him up.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Rias shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t bother. We¡¯ll never find him in this chaos, and we keep the situation a secret. The last thing we want is for them to get wise and turn coat in the middle of the battle.¡± He turned and headed back indoors. Wess clapped Lon on the shoulder as he moved to follow. ¡°I swear, brother. You and your girlfriends.¡± They headed for the stairs. Lon stayed where he was. Rias turned. ¡°Come on. Inside. There¡¯s work to do.¡± Lon pointed to the clouds overhead. ¡°Over there. What is that?¡± Wess looked. ¡°I don¡¯t see anything.¡± Lon squinted. The glare from the fire and the smoke was slowly filling the air, a tidal wave of flames and ash, but high above, the plume seemed to turn aside, swirling around an unseen form. Lon whispered. ¡°There¡¯s something in the sky.¡± II. Valis steadied his hands. He was back in his basement holdout. He¡¯d chained Azarelle to the stove. For the moment she was still unconscious, but it was heavy enough to hold until he got back, and his servants would watch over her. The undead stood quietly by the wall, waiting for instructions. A kind of strange thrill had begun to tighten in his chest. He had butterflies in his stomach. There was so little time left to wait. ¡°¡­¡± He smiled. ¡°Of course I¡¯m excited. You should be too.¡± The bird squawked. ¡°¡­¡± Valis laughed. ¡°No, we won¡¯t be made into statues. There¡¯s too much work still to do.¡± ¡°¡­¡± He paused. ¡°After that?¡± ¡°¡­¡± Valis took a long breath. ¡°I suppose I don¡¯t know.¡± Valis went to the table. Azarelle¡¯s possessions were laid out upon it. The cloak was interesting. She must have made it herself. There was certainly nothing like it available on the continent. He put it on. The shadows gathered pleasingly in the dim light. It was perfect. Azarelle groaned. He turned. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡± He emptied the pockets of his old cloak onto the table and threw it over her. She looked up at him. ¡°Valis? What happened? Where are the others? Where am I?¡± He smiled. ¡°Oh, just a little place I set aside in case of emergency. I know it¡¯s not what you¡¯re used to. Don¡¯t worry. We won¡¯t be staying long.¡± She began to crawl away. The chain went taut and stopped her after only a few feet. The undead shuffled in her direction. Valis looked over his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t move around too much. I wouldn¡¯t want them to hurt you.¡± She glared. ¡°And who are they?¡± He smiled. ¡°Housekeepers.¡± She fixed him with a hard stare. ¡°I remember now. I know what you did to me.¡± He turned, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Do you?¡± She nodded. ¡°You took away my memories and made me a puppet.¡± He nodded, loading up his pockets. Only the fragment of white material remained. His link to his masters will and power. Godsbone. He¡¯d never heard of anyone able to break free of their power. Valis was driven to wonder if Del Rossi¡¯s cryptic words had anything to do with it. He answered her. ¡°It was for your protection.¡± Azarelle laughed. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s true. My masters ordered me to kill you. They were worried you wouldn¡¯t cooperate.¡± He turned and knelt down in front of her. He tapped the side of his head. ¡°They can tell when you¡¯re thinking about them. When you saw them in the augury you became a risk they weren¡¯t willing to take.¡± She shrank back, pulling his cloak tighter around herself. ¡°And now?¡± He stood back up. ¡°Soon, it won¡¯t matter. The city will be theirs in a matter of hours.¡± She shifted her leg. The chain rattled against the floor. ¡°And this? Is it for my protection too?¡± He laughed. ¡°No. It¡¯s for mine. I can¡¯t afford interference. It¡¯s a temporary measure. It won¡¯t be necessary once it¡¯s over.¡± She was quiet for a long moment. ¡°And when it is over¡­you¡¯ll let me go?¡± Valis took a long breath. There was no reason not to play nice. Best to make a professional impression, at least for now. He shrugged, turning back to the table. ¡°That will be up to you. There are many palaces in the kingdom of the gods. One of them could be yours if you decide to help them.¡± She shook her head slowly. ¡°No. The old gods are evil.¡± Valis chuckled. ¡°You seem very certain. Why is that?¡± She answered firmly. ¡°It¡¯s been recorded.¡± He nodded, pursing his lips. ¡°Ah, yes. History.¡± ¡°Yes. History.¡± He knelt down again. ¡°Who wrote that history? Who recorded it? Who passed it down?¡± He swept up the godsbone fragment from the table. ¡°The very people who committed genocide against the gods. The same people who wiped away every trace of them from history.¡± He held the fragment out. ¡°Now tell me, as a scholar, can you trust that?¡± She regarded the object with a critical eye. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Godsbone, and the name is no play on words, and though it appears to be stone, there is no vein of rock in the world where you will find it. Fragments such as these were hewn from the bodies of the gods themselves.¡± She inspected it. ¡°And?¡± Valis reached into his pocket and drew out a handful of the Jaspers¡¯ amulets. ¡°Godsbone amplifies the power of magic by hundreds of times. The mortal races slaughtered the gods as a means to steal their power.¡± She seemed to perk up. Valis smiled. ¡°See? Even you are tempted by the prospect.¡± A sort of intrigue seemed to play across her features, as though she knew more than she was willing to reveal. So much the better. Valis stepped away. ¡°The gods¡¯ reclaimed many of their dead when they were forced to retreat from the world. I¡¯m sure they would be willing to allow you to research them¡­if you proved your worth.¡± She jerked the chain as she replied. ¡°Your credibility is strained.¡± He nodded. ¡°I understand that. Frankly I sympathize. You hardly know me, but don¡¯t worry. You don¡¯t have to decide now. I¡¯ll leave you plenty of firewood and some food. When it¡¯s all over I will return here and you can make your decision.¡± She regarded him coolly. ¡°And if I decide to go?¡± He bowed. ¡°Then you will go. You have my word.¡± ¡°And the others?¡± He frowned and opened up a cask on the floor. It was filled with cured meat and wax-covered cheese. He snapped his fingers and the undead moved. They began to stack wood by the stove. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that they have already they have already gone.¡± She straightened up as she sat against the wall. ¡°What?¡± Valis shifted the cask of food across the floor. He set it beside her. ¡°They weren¡¯t willing to give me the amulets. I had to convince them to turn them over. You were unconscious at the time. They were so frightened they offered you up in exchange for their own lives. I took you, of course. I could hardly leave you with such untrustworthy folk.¡± She didn¡¯t answer. He couldn¡¯t tell if she believed him or not. If she did, her transition into his company would be much easier; if she didn¡¯t¡­ Well, he could be patient. He went to the door. ¡°I have to go out. I hope you don¡¯t judge me too harshly for your circumstances.¡± She leaned back against the wall. ¡°Whatever.¡± He tied his cloak shut. She looked up. ¡°That¡¯s my cloak, by the way.¡± He turned. ¡°I¡¯m only borrowing it. I have to get across the city.¡± ¡°Uh huh.¡± He opened the door. The cold wind blew in with a flurry of snow. He paused. ¡°Think on what I¡¯ve said. Would you?¡± She grumbled. Nexus flew to his shoulder as he went out the door. He locked it shut behind him. III. Nathanius drove the wagon quietly up the street. The snow was deep and muffled the creak of the wheels. Asterious stood over him, eyes on the dark alleys. In this time of chaos there was no telling from what direction danger might come. Polly stood beside him Nathanius turned to Asterious. ¡°So, what¡¯s their plan?¡± Asterious looked down. ¡°Valis seemed intent upon the amulets. The gods¡¯ are capable of multiplying vastly the power of any magic they take hold of. Clearly he means for them to use them.¡± Nathanius pondered. ¡°The clerics of Tormar use the amulets to manipulate the undead. They control only a few at a time, but if what you say is true, the gods could seize control of their entire army.¡± Ellyn spoke up through the wagon¡¯s window. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I want to be around to see that.¡± Polly answered. ¡°I don¡¯t give one wit about the zombies. We have to rescue Azarelle.¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°I agree, but we¡¯ll never find her just by looking. Our best bet is to locate Valis. If we can subdue him we can force him to give her back.¡± Ellyn gave a wary grumble. ¡°Confronting him didn¡¯t go so well for us the last time.¡± Polly drew her blade. ¡°Just keep him distracted. I can take care of him. You have my word on that.¡± Nathanius was willing to believe her. A Halfling thief was not to be underestimated, especially one with a grudge. He looked up at Asterious. ¡°So where would Valis go?¡± The human looked long down the dark street. ¡°The gods prefer a grand entrance. The more that see them, the more fear they instil and the greater their power will be.¡± Nathanius turned. ¡°Then they¡¯ll go to the heart of the battle. Judging by the fires it¡¯s in the old quarter.¡± He cracked the reins. Asterious suddenly groaned. Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°What?¡± He took a long breath. ¡°Did you say the old quarter?¡± ¡°Yeah, why?¡± Asterious grumbled. ¡°I know where we have to go.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #45: Unseemly Magic Exiles Issue #45 ¡°Unseemly Magic¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright April 7th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Azarelle set the final reagent down. The pattern was complete. They were right. It was beautiful beyond calculation, beyond the strange composition of magic, the balance of discord and harmony, the symmetry and asymmetry. It was¡­perfect. This was going to work. Jyll was late. Azarelle glanced around. The sandbag was empty, but that wasn¡¯t important. They wouldn¡¯t get another chance anyway. In less than an hour the city prosecutors would be knocking at the door; then they would knock it down. The door opened. Jyll emerged with a tray in his hands. ¡°I¡¯ve got breakfast.¡± He came over and set it down in front of her. ¡°And something special for you.¡± He uncovered the tray. There was bacon. Azarelle looked up at him. ¡°This is hardly the time.¡± He raised an eyebrow and straightened up. ¡°Who are you and what have you done with my fianc¨¦.¡± She pushed the tray away. ¡°We have to start.¡± His face fell. Azarelle frowned. He had gone out of his way. She knew that, but there was too much at stake. They had to focus. She covered the tray back up. ¡°We¡¯ll keep it warm and enjoy it after. Right now we have work to do.¡± He frowned. ¡°Alright.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She could tell he was upset, but he didn¡¯t understand. They didn¡¯t have the time. Azarelle turned to the armature. ¡°I¡¯ve got a new isolation pattern worked out.¡± He looked around, noting the changes. ¡°I don¡¯t recognize it. We never did anything like this on paper.¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°How¡¯d you come up with it?¡± She hesitated. There was no way she was going to answer that. ¡°I got inspired.¡± Close enough. Jyll shook his head. ¡°I thought we agreed that we would do all the research together, a check on each other.¡± Azarelle waved him off. ¡°I know, I know, but we¡¯re out of time. Don¡¯t you see? This is our last chance.¡± ¡°Last chance?¡± He looked at the door. ¡°They¡¯re coming, aren¡¯t they?¡± She nodded. He came over. ¡°Honey, maybe it¡¯s time to stop all this. We¡¯ve been trying for so long and look where it¡¯s gotten us. And now we¡¯re rushing. We aren¡¯t even observing proper safety procedures. If we fess up now, maybe they¡¯ll take our progress into account. What if something goes wrong?¡± Azarelle shook her head. No. It couldn¡¯t end like that. They¡¯d come too far and gotten too close. She could taste it in her mouth. ¡°Nothing will go wrong. Jyll, just one more time. It¡¯s going to work. The pattern is perfect.¡± He took a long breath. ¡°We always think that.¡± The sound of voices rose up in the hall. Someone was coming up the stairs. Azarelle went to the door and locked it. ¡°Please. I can¡¯t explain it. Just help me one last time.¡± Jyll paused for a long moment. ¡°Alright, but you¡¯ll owe me for this.¡± She moved to her position. ¡°Anything.¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Anything?¡± She looked up. He smirked. Wait¡­ She gave him a flat look. ¡°Will you focus, please?¡± His smirk became a grin. ¡°Fine, fine.¡± Azarelle smiled, even as her ears detected the heavy plod of booted footsteps coming up the stairs. They went to their positions and began the casting. The spindles of the armature began to turn. Someone started pounding on the door. II. Azarelle struggled against the chain. She had to get out. Whatever offers Valis made¡­he couldn¡¯t be trusted. He was a detestable human being. Whatever Asterious had done to her had restored more than just her recollections. It had revealed what had been done while she was under the influence of his spell, trapped in a dreamlike stupor at his mercy. He had taken far more than her memories. She recalled what her vacant eyes had seen. She could feel the lingering pressure of his fingers against her flesh and the tug of his intent against her cloak. Forgiveness was not for men like him. He would die. But the chain held fast. It was shackled around one of her legs, the other end fixed firmly to the iron foot of the stove, fastened to the floor. She didn¡¯t have the strength to free it. But the undead¡­ Their minds were more than weak; they were missing, lost to death and unseemly magic. Unfortunately, to command their actions required magic as well: bone, sapphire, glass blackened with soot, and sinew. She had none of those things. But Valis must have. If had to be somewhere in the room; otherwise the undead would have dropped to the floor the moment he left. Even if the casting was persistent¡ªfor there were ways to forge enchantments to last, like the one upon her cloak¡ªthey would still only stand dumbly in place without their master to command them¡­unless he had left some means of sustaining his will behind. It was hanging somewhere, or hidden in a secret compartment. Or buried¡­ Azarelle began to whisper. The words felt like old grease as they moved across her tongue. She disdained the magic of death. She only knew it because it was a required course at the university. Then again, she¡¯d been getting quite a bit of mileage out of her undergrad had come to use since she¡¯d come to Kalkonu: basic composition techniques, alchemy and the imbuing of liquids, and now necromancy. Base magic for a base land. She¡¯d always preferred the higher forms. The simpler practices were inferior. Too easy. Not worth the time; yet since she¡¯d come those same simple techniques had saved her life many times. Now, they would rescue her freedom. Whisper, whisper, whisper. And listen. To control an enchantment cast by another was difficult, but far from impossible. Similar to dispelling, the key was to root out the means and methods by which the spell was composed and cast. Normally it took hours to make such a determination. Luckily, she had seen a picture. The amulets that Valis was so intent upon had come from Tormar. No doubt he was using their same tools to maintain his¡­staff. She felt the tremble of magic at the back of her thoughts. Her eyes darted to the floor in the corner of the room, where two empty graves lay bare under the snow and ice that covered the well-worn floor. Whisper, whisper. She crawled. The chain only gave her a few feet of freedom, but it would be enough. The undead turned toward her. Azarelle paused and they stopped. They would be following precise instructions. To control undead was an exercise in clear instructions, or so her teachers years ago had said. How would Valis have worded them? Stop her if she tries to escape? No, that was too complex. The undead couldn¡¯t interpret intent. No, it would be something like: restrain her if she moves¡­some measure of feet. Azarelle nodded. Something like that. Perhaps if she moved fast enough they wouldn¡¯t have time to react. Ready¡­ Steady... She dove across the floor, foul magic slithering over her tongue. How she hated it, but she could feel the spell under the dirt. She dug. Her fingers clawed at the earth as the dull hands of the undead closed in, grappling her legs and shoulders. She felt it. A small object in the loose earth. The undead hauled her back toward the stove, dragging her across the floor. With a yell and a kick, she lunged, snatching it up as she rushed through the final words of the casting. Whisper. The undead went suddenly still. Azarelle took a long breath. Too easy. Not worth the time. Hah. If only her professors could see her now. She let her head fall back and laughed. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #46: Blame and Animus Exiles Issue #46 ¡°Blame and Animus¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright April 10th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. It was a brawl, as though all the chaos and rage of the long night had been distilled into a few hours of merciless bloodshed. Groups of armed men moved through the tangled streets in packs, hauling nets behind them filled with piles of embalmed heads Trophies for the lottery. The two sides were evenly matched. It was a surprise, but not much of one. Nathanius had seen it before: former nights, past winters, other battles¡­all bloodbaths. Everyone always thought they had the upper hand. No one ever did. But if what Asterious said was true, Valis and his gods were going to change all that. For the first time, a single force would seize control of the continent: impervious to weather, immune to starvation and thirst, and single-handedly powerful enough to maintain control indefinitely. The valley would come first: Selapak, Tormar, and Kuld; then the coasts, then the Blue Lands of the barbarians to the east. And after that, the world. Or so the immortal said. It was still a crazy story. Always to be slain; never to perish; every life alone. It was a heck of a curse. No wonder he didn¡¯t like to share. Why bother? In the end he would leave them all behind. It was probably less painful to remain anonymous. So why sign on with them? The simplest explanation was practical necessity. No one could survive Kalkonu alone, but if he wouldn¡¯t stay dead anyway, why not just jump off a cliff and come back to life someplace else? Why live on? To fight the gods? No, that wasn¡¯t it. It couldn¡¯t be. Asterious had warmed to them almost the moment they met, and he didn¡¯t know about the situation with the gods until they reached Selapak. Nathanius looked up at him. He was still on top of the wagon, perched on the cargo, keeping an eye out for anyone on the prowl for more than just trophies for the lottery. He tapped his food. Asterious looked down. ¡°Are we almost there?¡± He nodded. ¡°Up there.¡± He pointed to a building up the street. It was a mansion, well built and quite old, probably one of the few that had survived the great fire that had swept through the city the previous winter. There was a wall and a tall gate fronting it. Ellyn came out from the rear of the wagon and climbed forward. ¡°What is it? Where are we?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Nathanius looked around. ¡°This is the old quarter.¡± Ellyn raised an eyebrow. ¡°I would have thought the centre of the city was the oldest.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Long ago, the Daludur tribes controlled the valley, including the city of Selapak.¡± ¡°Daludur?¡± Asterious answered. ¡°It means ¡®Valley People.¡¯ They were still in charge the last time I was here. Exiled immigrants were required to build in specific boroughs. I can only assume they eventually outnumbered the locals, though I don¡¯t know why they moved the city centre.¡± Polly replied. ¡°There was a fire last winter. It destroyed almost the entire city.¡± Asterious nodded and looked up at the sky. ¡°It looks like there¡¯s going to be another.¡± Nathanius looked out ahead. He was right. The fire was already spreading. In a matter of hours it would consume the entire district; then it would spread. The city was a tinderbox of makeshift buildings. There would be no saving it. He bobbed his head toward the house. ¡°So, why here?¡± Asterious answered. ¡°It¡¯s near the battle, and the house ahead belongs to a man I know. I have reason to believe he¡¯s in league with Valis and the old gods.¡± Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°And why is that?¡± Asterious shrugged. ¡°He told me.¡± Polly grumbled. ¡°And when were you planning on sharing that little detail?¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°Now, of course.¡± Nathanius rolled his eyes. The man never changed. Ellyn spoke up. ¡°I thought you said you can¡¯t have friends because of your curse.¡± Asterious frowned. ¡°I said I knew him.¡± He turned to the house and drew his weapons. ¡°I never said he was a friend.¡± II. Valis surveyed the battle from the roof: Tormar on one side; Selapak on the other. The fires burned brightly in the dark, filling the courtyards, filling the markets, filling the streets. Filling the sky. The world would be reborn. All nations. All peoples. All in the glorious image of the gods. The amulets dangled on their dark cord, wrapped around his ready fingertips. He smiled. It felt good to hold the future in your hands. Above, the clouds began to part. III. The door was open a crack. A current of warm air issued out, melting the snow. Asterious approached the gap with caution. He spoke over his shoulder. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡± Ellyn came up behind him. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°The man I know would never leave his door open.¡± Polly spoke up. She already had her dagger out. ¡°Who is this guy, anyway?¡± Asterious frowned. ¡°An old general of mine: Lamion Del Rossi, a powerful sorcerer. The last time I came here he had to let me in.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s not at home?¡± Ellyn added. ¡°Or he¡¯s dead.¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°Unlikely.¡± Nathanius raised his hand. ¡°Begging your pardon, but did you say general? Just how old is this acquaintance of yours?¡± Asterious bent his head, staring down at his swords. ¡°He was with me in the beginning, and he received the same curse.¡± His voice quavered. Ellyn paused. She¡¯d seen the man happy and she¡¯d seen him resolute. She had seen him thoughtful, excited, and even distant, but she had never seen him¡­upset. As she observed him now outside the door, shoulder sagging and avoiding her eyes, she couldn¡¯t help but feel the unseen burden he carried. As old as he was, with the weight of so many memories upon him, so many wounds and so many losses, and how long held and great were they, she could only imagine his pain. She put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°How can you both be here?¡± He turned to face her. His eyes were red with sorrow, but there were no tears. ¡°I think they meant for us to leap-frog through time. It worked at first. We didn¡¯t see each other for¡­too many years to count. Del Rossi and I rarely saw eye-to-eye, but we were at least¡­united. ¡°As the centuries of separation drew on, something changed. The memory of the war we¡¯d fought together dimmed, hope of dispelling the curse was lost, and the faces of our enemies were forgotten.¡± He paused. ¡°I guess it was inevitable. He came to hate me, and suddenly we could encounter each other again.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°Why does he hate you?¡± Asterious took a long breath and looked up. His stoic expression had returned. ¡°Because it was my fault. The curse, I mean. It happened because of me.¡± IV. The light was blinding. Asterious stepped forward. Del Rossi hesitated at the threshold. The men were dead. They¡¯d fought well, but the general had been right. The floor was awash with blood and choked with butchered corpses: split helms, broken bones, shattered armour, and torn black-feathered wings. He and Del Rossi were the only ones to survive. And their task was not finished yet. Asterious tightened the strap on his shield. It was beaten badly out of shape. The seal of Gondavol on its face was scorched and cracked. He lowered his voice as he addressed the sorcerer. ¡°We have to keep moving.¡± Del Rossi pointed at the door. ¡°In there? Just us? You¡¯re out of your mind. We have to wait for the others.¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°If they were coming they would have arrived during the battle. We¡¯re on our own.¡± He smiled. ¡°I bet you never thought you¡¯d be humanity¡¯s last hope.¡± Del Rossi chuckled and out his pipe. Asterious raised an eyebrow. ¡°Now?¡± Del Rossi let out a humph. ¡°If I¡¯m to be executed, I might as well take my time. Our hosts can wait.¡± Asterious chuckled. ¡°I suppose. This is the only party in town.¡± He set his shield down and leaned on it, sheathing his sword. He listened. ¡°I can¡¯t hear the battle anymore.¡± Del Rossi looked around. ¡°It¡¯s this place. It keeps the sound out. Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m sure our people are still fighting.¡± Asterious looked back at the outer door. It seemed so distant at the end of the hall. Their progress had been hard fought. His men paid with time and blood for every inch. He murmured. ¡°Unless they¡¯re dead.¡± The pipe smoke curled lightly. Its pungent musk did little to mask the smell of death that hung in the once tranquil corridor. Asterious thought. ¡°Do you think any of them made it?¡± Del Rossi shrugged. ¡°Probably not.¡± Asterious frowned, regarding the old general. He couldn¡¯t help but consider everything that the two of them¡ªthat all of them, really¡ªhad been through, everything they had worked for and given up: everything they owned, the lives of their comrades, the lives of their families, all in the name of revolution. They owed at least their own. They could not fail now. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Issue #47: The Company of Angels Exiles Issue #47 ¡°The Company of Angels¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright May 10th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Polly crept around the edge of the roof. It jutted upwards in odd peaks and peculiar slopes where the elaborate rooms of Del Rossi¡¯s mansion rose through the roofline. She could see Valis standing at the far end, perched like a weathervane at the peak of a low steeple. His eyes were on the sky, where the overhanging cloud of smoke and soot rising up from the city had begun to churn. Nathanius was with her. She whispered to him. ¡°What do you suppose he¡¯s up to?¡± He shook his head. ¡°It looks like he¡¯s waiting for something.¡± He pointed to the sky. ¡°Up there.¡± Polly resumed her watch. The roof offered plenty of cover for concealment along the edges, but few approaches to the sorcerer¡¯s perch. He would see them coming. A tangle of darkened chains and smoke surrounded him. It was the same spell they had witnessed when he had ambushed them back at her hideout in the workshop. She couldn¡¯t see Azarelle, and they hadn¡¯t found her inside. Valis must have hidden her somewhere else. They¡¯d found the mansion to be oddly deserted. Asterious had warned them of Del Rossi¡¯s power, only to find him absent. Either he had left, or he was dead. They¡¯d accessed the roof by way of a third floor balcony. Polly gripped her long, leaf-bladed knife. There was nothing special about the weapon, apart from the fact that it left a grisly wound. It would be a pleasure to gut the man with it when the time came¡­but that would have to wait until he had shown them to wherever he had taken her friend. In the meantime, she had to find a way to get close. Her eyes drifted to the stone gutter that ran around the edge of the building. Nathanius probably wouldn¡¯t be capable of the climb but, hanging from it, she might be able to work her way around alone until she was only a few feet away. She pointed to it. ¡°There.¡± Nathanius looked. ¡°Can you make it?¡± She nodded. ¡°I think so.¡± The others were hanging back, holding position by the balcony door. Nathanius whispered. ¡°Go. I¡¯ll go tell the others. We¡¯ll wait a few minutes and come out. Ellyn and Asterious will go directly; when they do, I¡¯ll try to sneak around. With a bit of luck he¡¯ll focus on me; then you can make your move.¡± Polly sheathed her dagger. ¡°A double-bluff.¡± Nathanius shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s our only shot. Stay out of sight until we¡¯re in position.¡± Polly climbed down and swung over the edge.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°I¡¯ll be careful.¡± II. There was a scuffle. A boot scraped against the thick wooden shingles of the roof. Valis spoke over his shoulder. ¡°I know you¡¯re there. Come out where I can see you.¡± Asterious and Ellyn emerged and began to cross the roof. Valis shook the chain in his right hand. Its black coils began to slither toward them. His left hand clutched the amulets from Tormar, now dangling together on a long chain, waiting for his masters. He turned to face his seeming assailants. Asterious held his weapons out to guard. The musician, Ellyn, held a thin dagger in her hand. Pathetic. A subtle movement at the corner of his eye grabbed his attention. He shook the chain again. The dark tendrils struck like a venomous snake, driving into a shadow behind a parapet. He heard a yelp. Valis smiled and pulled gently back on the dark links as the half-elf Nathanius was dragged out into the open, tightly bound around his hands and feet. Valis gave a cool smile. ¡°Hello.¡± Nathanius grumbled. ¡°Hi.¡± Valis chuckled. He¡¯d left three of them back at the workshop. Where was the last? He stepped down from the parapet and turned to the others. ¡°Where is the Halfling?¡± They didn¡¯t answer. He shook the chain. The long tentacles of his spell slithered to Nathanius¡¯s throat and slowly began to tighten. Ellyn shouted. ¡°Stop!¡± He laughed. ¡°Why?¡± The thin, sharp point of a blade came suddenly to rest against the skin of his throat. A voice spoke into his ear. ¡°This.¡± Valis froze. She was standing on the platform he had just abandoned. She must have been hiding there the whole time. She growled. ¡°Let him go.¡± He did. Nathanius sucked in a breath and coughed as he climbed to his feet. The pressure on his neck eased ever so slightly as the Halfling spoke again. ¡°Azarelle. Where is she?¡± He shook his head stiffly. ¡°You¡¯ll never find her.¡± ¡°Then take us to her.¡± He chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m busy.¡± The point of the knife pressed in against his flesh. ¡°Not for long.¡± Nathanius stepped forward. ¡°Easy, Polly.¡± He turned to face him. ¡°Look. We don¡¯t want any unnecessary trouble. Give her back and we¡¯ll go.¡± Valis smiled. ¡°I won¡¯t. We had a deal. She belongs to me now.¡± Polly snarled. ¡°We didn¡¯t have a deal. You just had an advantage. Now you don¡¯t. Give her back or I¡¯ll kill you right here.¡± Valis kept his eyes on Nathanius. ¡°Then you will die. Look out at the city, con man. Surely you can see that it¡¯s hopeless.¡± He did. The armies were fighting in the streets, a host of mindless dead against the mob. The zombies shambled forward, only to be beaten back and harvested of their heads by the city¡¯s defenders, who were in turn pushed back again by the steadily thickening horde. The battle was being fought not fifty yards away, forwards and backwards, rending and tearing, and all the while in great and growing numbers the city¡¯s defenders were turned their gaze up anxiously to the sky. Valis spoke. ¡°My masters approach. When they arrive you will all die unless you lay down your arms and surrender to me now. It is already too late to flee.¡± Polly pressed hard with the blade against his neck. The edge pierced his flesh. A twinge of hot pain ran up his neck as a thin trickle of blood slid out along the blade. ¡°You¡¯ll die first.¡± Valis smiled. ¡°Perhaps.¡± Nathanius spoke up. He gestured to Asterious. ¡°He¡¯s stalling. Get the amulets.¡± Valis still had them in his left hand. He dropped them. ¡°Oops.¡± The dark chains closed in. A thin tendril lashed out, snatching up the braid of pendants. It held them aloft, out of reach. A roll of unnatural thunder shook the sky. They looked up and their eyes went wide. The black smoke burst apart, revealing a huge foundation of pure white stone, jagged and rough as though it had been clawed by a giant out of the ground. As it descended, the swirling gloom revealed an enormous tower resting heavily upon it, carved from the same stone that made up its base. Its height was obscured by the clouds. It floated, flawless walls of alabaster catching the light of the burning skyline, a smouldering ember hanging in the sky. A great door opened. From within, a winged shadow unfurled into the air, descending until it came to rest over the roof Ellyn pointed. ¡°What is that!?¡± Valis gave a maniacal chuckle. ¡°The end of your world.¡± III. Asterious stepped forward. The god angels. He¡¯d forgotten how tall they were. They wore little, only white shawls and flowing cloths to gird their loins. From their backs emerged enormous wings of willowy feathers as long as a man¡¯s arm. They drifted in the currents of the air like streaming pennants of pure white. Their skin was black as polished obsidian, and their eyes glowed red. It looked down at him. ¡°Your highness. I did not wish to see you again.¡± Its voice was like the wind of a gathering storm. Asterious looked up. It was as though all his worst nightmares had come true. ¡°Nor I, you.¡± In its right hand the creature gripped a spear of silver and white. It held it out, pointing. ¡°And yet you come prepared to fight.¡± Asterious looked down at his weapons. ¡°Old habits.¡± He looked back up. ¡°Remind me, which one are you?¡± The creature sneered. ¡°Insolent creature. Do you not remember your own gods?¡± Asterious shrugged. ¡°It was a long time ago, and you were never my gods.¡± The creature rolled its shoulders and spread its wings. They didn¡¯t flap them to fly. The force of its own power was enough to keep it aloft as it slowly descended to rest gently on the parapet behind Valis and Polly. ¡°I am Generosity, Holy God of all Mortals.¡± Asterious nodded. They all used that title. He shook his head. ¡°Not anymore.¡± Generosity smiled. ¡°Always, and forever.¡± Asterious took a step forward. ¡°No. Your kind are forgotten.¡± The creature growled. The sound was like an earthquake. ¡°Then I shall remind them.¡± He turned the spear in his hand and gripped it tightly. The point flashed with blinding light. Asterious brought up his sword, Lamp, as a beam of pure magic sliced through the air. It struck the blade. The force was enough to drive him back across the roof as the enchanted metal turned the searing strike aside. The beam pierced the wall of a nearby building, burning a line clean through its walls. The energy burst out and the structure exploded into the street. Ellyn took a step back. ¡°Oh my¡ª¡± The creature interrupted. ¡°¡­God?¡± Valis shook his chain. The long tentacle flung the amulets up to the creature. He caught them with his free hand and smiled. ¡°To business.¡± He held the pendants aloft and began to chant. Sickly magic radiated from his form, washing out in all directions like the tolling of a temple bell. A chorus of howls rose up from the city. Asterious looked down into the streets. The undead horde seemed to quicken suddenly, invigorated by the god angel¡¯s power. The shambling monsters began instead to run; their leaden blows were transformed into vicious strikes. They lashed out and surged forward, overpowering the city¡¯s disorganized defenders, directed by a mind of such will and complexity that controlling even the whole host was barely an effort. The defenders routed, only to be overrun and slaughtered, and when the grisly work was done the frenzied horde turned next upon their masters. The clerics of Tormar cried out their magic words desperately, brandishing their useless amulets as they fell in droves to the lifeless hands of their former servants. Ellyn took another step back. ¡°Asterious¡­¡± Polly shouted. ¡°Nathanius, what do we do?¡± Asterious raised his eyes to the god angel, Generosity. The creature turned to stare back at him, spear at the ready. Asterious took a breath. He¡¯d fought the gods before. He turned to Nathanius. ¡°Whatever you do¡­¡± He drew his swords. ¡°Don¡¯t pray.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #48: Great and Powerful Exiles Issue #48 ¡°Great and Powerful¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright May 11th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Asterious held his shield in front of his chest and tightly gripped his sword. General Del Rossi stood behind him. The floor was red with freshly spilled blood. The general opened his mouth in horror. ¡°They killed them.¡± Asterious nodded as his face grew solid with rage. Across the broad white chamber rose a many-levelled dais, rising to a platform high against the wall. Its steps were strewn with the bodies of the ¡°chosen¡± people. Their blood was still spilling from their wounds. The gods appeared to have exercised all of their creativity in murdering them. Some were missing limbs, others their heads or eyes. Still more appeared to have been¡­bled, cut hundreds of times across their skin and finally left to slowly exsanguinate on the floor. He trained his eyes up to the top of the dais. There was one left. The last one. The creature loomed over his butchered servants, surging with power harvested from their fear and blind devotion. Light and fire crackled over it skin, cutting the very air to ribbons. Del Rossi spoke low under his breath. ¡°You¡¯re sure you¡¯re ready for this?¡± Asterious nodded. ¡°This ends here. We¡¯ve come too far to flee.¡± He turned, smiling rakishly. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s no way back.¡± He pointed and Del Rossi turned around. The door behind them was gone. II. Nathanius dove to the right as an arc of light slashed across the rooftop. It cut a swath directly through the spot where he¡¯d had been standing. He hit the ground with a thump and drew his knife.Stolen story; please report. Asterious ran forward. The creature turned on Polly and began to cast a spell. Its voice boomed. The incantation resonated in the air as a huge gust of wind rose up, blowing with all the strength of a summer monsoon. Polly sprang away but it was too late. The wind caught her and she was hurled from the roof. She screamed as she fell out of view. Nathanius drew his knife. The blade flashed with magic. Valis laughed. ¡°Pitiful.¡± He shook his dark chain violently and swung it over his head. Black snakes of shadow surged out in every direction. Nathanius braced himself as the slithering cords lashed out, swinging wildly in a vain effort to parry the incoming blows. The magically keen edge of Krodyn¡¯s old blade severed the dark iron links. They recoiled like a wounded beast. He heard a yelp and twisted around. Ellyn was ensnared around her legs and was being dragged into the smokey pool that surrounded Valis. She screamed and struggled. Nathanius shouted. ¡°Ellyn! Your knife! Attack the chains!¡± It was in her hands. She¡¯d been using it to try to hang onto the roof. She wrenched herself around and stabbed at the metal, cutting and slashing. The blade sparked and sang until finally the chains snapped. Valis roared. ¡°Wretches! When will you stop troubling me?!¡± Nathanius stood up. ¡°We gave you a chance to let us walk away.¡± Valis sneered. ¡°I don¡¯t deal with scum. Only one of you had dignity at all¡­and I have her already.¡± He shook the chain again. The dark pool tightened. The tendrils rose and braided together into a coil as thick as a tree limb. The spell lashed out like a whip, sweeping a path of destruction across the roof. Ellyn ducked. Nathanius tried to do the same, but he was too slow. He took it in the chest. The blow forced the air from his lungs. He felt his ribs crack as he was flung backwards. He smacked into a tall peak of the roof and slid to the ground. The god creature turned on him and raised its spear. Nathanius saw a flash of light. Asterious appeared suddenly between them. He brought up his right arm and his sword. His left was still bleeding from the wound he had received at the Jaspers¡¯ mansion. The short blade in his palm flashed as the god¡¯s magic rained down upon them. The blade split the beam in two around them. It sliced into the rooftop on either side. Asterious glanced back over his shoulder. Nathanius looked up. ¡°You fought these?!¡± He nodded. ¡°All my life.¡± ¡°Well do they have any weaknesses?¡± ¡°Not really. And the longer this goes on, the more powerful he will become.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°The city. When people realize what¡¯s happening he will be able to draw strength from their thoughts.¡± Nathanius grumbled. ¡°Any other good news?¡± Asterious laughed. ¡°Yeah. He¡¯s got friends.¡± He pointed as three more broad-winged shadows descended from the tower, each carrying a long spear identical to Generosity¡¯s. Lances of light began to carve into the city, bringing with them a tidal wave of fire and destruction. An anguished cry rose up as whole streets of people and buildings were hurled into the air. Generosity laughed. His voice rose over the din like an army of trumpets. ¡°Tremble, mortals, for your gods have come. Fall to your knees or perish in flames!¡± Ellyn ran over to them. As they watched, the creature seemed to tremble with power. Its eyes burst with incendiary light, birthed from the terror gripping the city. They huddled beneath it. Ellyn looked back and forth between them. ¡°What do we do?¡± Asterious winced and clutched his shoulder. His sleeve was soaked red with blood. ¡°Stall. Fight. Wait for an opening.¡± She balked. ¡°That¡¯s the plan?¡± He readied his weapons. ¡°It¡¯s the only one there ever is.¡± III. Polly hit the street with a heavy crunch. Well¡­heavy for a Halfling. A human or an elf would probably have been killed by the fall. She stood up. Her injured leg gave out and she went back down, burying her face in wet snow and slush. She cursed as she rolled over and looked up. Fire and lightning were still flashing around the roof. She had to find a way to get back into the fight. Going through the house again would take too long, and with her leg the way it was, there was no way that she could make the climb. Fortunately, she was a woman of many, hidden talents. She reached into her bag. Never use up a spell. That was the rule, except in case of emergency. This certainly qualified. She drew out a length of black silk rope and a glass bottle in the shape of a feather. Both enchantments were nearly spent, but like the old saying went: it was now or never. A shadow caught her eye as she quickly wrapped the rope around her forearm. It was followed by a second and then a third. Polly grumbled. She hated zombies. She watched them. She¡¯d never been to Tormar, nor had she ever seen their soldiers, though she knew them to be undead, propelled and maintained by magic. She¡¯d seen one or two zombies though, back home. They¡¯d been swollen, unkempt monstrosities, stinking and missing parts: limbs, eyes, skin. She¡¯d expected Tormar¡¯s soldiers to be similar. Actually, they were quite tidy. They were wrapped in cloth, and completely intact. They weren¡¯t bloated or festering, and there was hardly any smell at all, apart from a lingering perfume of pine and tree sap. Their woven coverings were painted with the symbol of Tormar. They moved in, steady on their legs and fast. Whatever the so-called god had done to them had certainly improved their coordination. These were no shambling mummies. If she didn¡¯t know better, she might have believed that they were still alive under their linen dressings. She drank the feather potion. It would be a few minutes before it kicked in. She had to buy time, and with her leg in the shape it was, running was out of the question, especially given the power and quickness Generosity had bestowed upon her enemies. Generosity¡­what a pompous name. The zombies formed a circle around her. She drew her broad knife from her belt. ¡°Alright, boys. Let¡¯s dance.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #49: Hubris ex Ante Exiles Issue #49 ¡°Hubris ex Ante¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright April 3rd, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°What do you mean, the advance is halted?¡± The captain coughed, worn out from running. He was a cleric of the second order. It wasn¡¯t fitting that he should pant. General Hightower reached over to the table and hefted up a skin of water. He tossed it to him. ¡°Drink.¡± The captain obliged. The general turned back to face the city. He¡¯d set up his tent on a low hill outside the denser part, an effort to monitor the advance. The attack had gone well in the early stages, before the defenders set the city alight. Every hour since then had been a brutal and costly struggle; nevertheless, he had been confident that the city would ultimately have been theirs. Now, he wasn¡¯t so sure. The captain handed back the skin. ¡°Thank you, general.¡± He set the container aside. ¡°Now, tell me what¡¯s happened to my army.¡± The captain thumbed over his shoulder. ¡°The soldiers have run amok. We can¡¯t control them. It started when that thing came out of the clouds. My whole regiment was wiped out, murdered by our own regulars.¡± The general frowned. ¡°And you?¡± The man didn¡¯t answer right away. ¡°I was cut off. I thought it best to return and report.¡± The general suppressed a bemused look. In other words, he ran. ¡°How many are lost?¡± The captain shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but the problem is spreading. At first it was just the units on the front line, but as I was coming back fights were breaking out all over.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°And the defenders?¡± ¡°The regulars are attacking them as well. It doesn¡¯t make any sense. It¡¯s like they have minds of their own.¡± The general glanced at the guards around the tent, heavily armed and armoured soldiers, meticulously embalmed first order clerics. They stood silent and still. He nodded. ¡°Very well. Find messengers and send instructions to pull back. Anyone who can¡¯t control their regulars is to leave them behind.¡± The captain looked at him quizzically. ¡°We¡¯re calling off the invasion?¡± The general shook his head. ¡°It will be postponed until we learn more. Clearly the situation has changed. We mustn¡¯t squander our resources.¡± The captain saluted. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± He began to leave, but stopped a few paces away. ¡°Sir?¡± The general turned. ¡°Yes?¡± He hesitated for a moment. ¡°That voice¡­do you think it really is the gods?¡± The general looked at the sky and shook his head. In truth, he had his suspicions, but he also knew what the man needed to hear. He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. More likely it¡¯s a deception meant to stagger our advance. Don¡¯t worry. Just send those messengers.¡± The captain saluted again. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± He trotted off. The general turned his eyes back to the tower in the sky. The gods¡­ Could it really be? He eyed his silent bodyguards again. They still hadn¡¯t moved. With his left hand he grasped his amulet and murmured a brief incantation. The soldiers shuffled a few extra paces away. Couldn¡¯t be too careful. II. Polly ducked, stabbing. The blade punctured the undead through the stomach. It kept coming. This, she thought, was why she didn¡¯t like zombies. It brought its arms down like a pair of clubs. She rolled out of the way just as its friend came barrelling in. It smashed into the wall. The third appeared behind her and grabbed. She went into a split to evade its grip and stabbed her knife into its calf. It wasn¡¯t even fazed. There was no blood, only a puff of musty ash. It fell down on top of her. She yelled and slashed, hacking at its limbs as its two friends closed in. This was how they got you. The fallen soldier¡¯s arm came away in her grip. She flung it at the other two and crawled, staggering to her feet a few paces away. The other two helped the third to rise and they moved back into their circle. What she wouldn¡¯t give for a torch. III. Azarelle sprinted through the streets. Without her cloak of darkness she was fully exposed, but in midst of the chaos no one was really paying attention. They concerns of the city were elsewhere. She looked up into the sky. The tower loomed. She had to find the others. She¡¯d considered heading back to Polly¡¯s hideout, but there wouldn¡¯t have been any point. There was no way they were still there, especially with everything that had happened. It was more likely that they were heading south, out the city, or¡ªshe hoped¡ªsearching for Valis in an effort to rescue her. She¡¯d stolen a torch from Valis¡¯s basement, along with a some other choice materials he¡¯d left behind. It was a good thing that she had. The magic had come in handy when her two hijacked servants had suddenly turned on her in the street. She¡¯d barely escaped with her life. She kept her eyes on the tower. It was hovering over the city. Below it she could see three winged figures swooping back and forth through the smoke, casting beams of destructive light down into the city. It was an expression of magic she had only seen once before: in her lab back home. Godsbone. Was there a method to their madness after all? She glanced at the object in her other hand, a locator spell, made from materials purloined from Valis¡¯s safe house. Ordinarily the spell wouldn¡¯t have helped her find her friends. She didn¡¯t have anything that belonged to them to use as a focus. Thankfully, those things weren¡¯t necessary tonight. Valis had taken her cloak. It had been a simple matter to re-string the spell to seek out a particular arrangement of magic. As far as she knew, her cloak was unique. The locator was homing in on it like a trained pigeon. She just hoped she would reach them in time. She was tired of losing people. III. Azarelle sat on the floor. She peeked her eyes open. It was working. Jyll sat across from her. They¡¯d been maintaining the incantation for nearly fifteen minutes. The armature was spinning like a top. She couldn¡¯t even see its rings any longer. It was as though the two of them had encapsulated a globe of pure light. Its surface undulated like ripples across still water, and its glare was so bright it burned. The power was impossible to describe. She scarcely dared to look at it, partly due to the brightness, but mostly due to the fact that the experiment¡¯s stability depended upon their remaining focused. The authorities were pounding on the door. The pounding was not helping. She shut her eyes again. They had already reached the armature¡¯s threshold for power. They only had to hold it for a few more minutes to allow their measuring equipment to log an adequate record. And what an astonishing record it would be. There were no leaks; no sign of harmonic interactions or cascading effects. The pattern was perfect. The weave was held at bay, leaving their spell free to channel its amplified magic into the construct. Her benefactors had been true to their word. The applications were positively limitless. With power like this, whole cities could be lifted into the air, people could be teleported across the world, or between worlds, and even the most terrifying storm could be swept aside like so many motes of dust. A whole new era of magic was theirs for the taking. Their names would go down in history. Her name. She heard something crack. Her eyes snapped open. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #50: In Medias Res Exiles Issue #50 ¡°In Medias Res¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright May 14th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. A beam of light cut down from the sky, ripping along the street. Polly dove out of the way, rolling out from under the grasping arms of a pair of mummified soldiers. They were caught in the blast. The heat from the magic incinerated them both. Two down. Five to go. They kept coming. The undead were overwhelming the city. Polly had been watching the defenders flee. None of them stopped to help her. It was every man and women for themselves. She¡¯d killed four zombies, for all the good it had done. Every time she managed to hack one apart, two more arrived to take its place. Pretty soon she would have to turn tail as well. Stupid potion. The spell for flight should have taken effect by now. There must have been less in the bottle than she thought. The zombies closed in again. She had never seen the undead work together so intelligently. Whatever magic that god creature possessed, it was certainly doing the trick. Polly looked up. The god creature soared, raining hellfire down onto the roof. If she didn¡¯t get back up there soon, it would be too late. She backed up against a nearby wall and jumped, willing herself into the air. She came back to the ground. Still nothing. The first zombie lunged. It came in from the left. Polly caught it by the wrist and lurched, pivoting on the balls of her feet. She pitched the soldier over her shoulder, threw it to the ground, and planted her knee on its chest. She swung her heavy dagger. Its head was lopped off at the neck. The other four rushed in. Polly tried to roll away, but there was no room to move. She was cornered against the wall. She stood up and began to climb, scrambling in an effort to get out of reach. She managed to catch hold of the protruding sill of a high window. She felt a hand close around her ankle. With a grunt, she kicked hard to knock it loose, but its hold was like an iron vice. A second hand joined the first and clamped down, followed by a third on her other leg. Gripping with one hand she lashed out with her knife, only to find herself staring down at a dull crowd of blank faces tightly wrapped in clean linen. It was as unnerving as it was terrifying. They didn¡¯t even make noise. They pulled. Polly held on with all her strength, but it was no use. She dropped her knife on the ground and clung desperately to the window with both hands. Her fingernails dug grooves into the wood. She screamed as the enemy ripped her away from the wall and hurled her to the ground. Her head struck the snowbound cobbles with a crack. Her vision blurred as the zombies piled onto her limp form. A pair of hands closed around her neck. Polly felt her wind pipe close in her throat. She struggled to get free, but the soldiers held her down, too heavy to shift. A desperate pressure began to build in the pit of her lungs. Blood pooled behind her eyes. She clenched them shut and forced them open as the world started to go black. Her mouth gaped open, straining for breath. She felt weak. Her limbs began to feel heavy. She stopped struggling and lay on the ground. She felt her legs start to twitch. Her eyes fluttered shut. A blast of intense heat suddenly swept over her. The grip on her throat disappeared. Her eyes snapped open and she raked in a breath. The undead soldiers had been blown back, reeling as bright red flames licked at their embalmed bodies. They fell to the ground and burned. Polly crawled slowly away, casting her eyes about for the source of the spell. Azarelle stepped out of an alley across the street. She gripped a fragment of burned-out torch in her right hand. A bag of spent components lay open at her feet. Polly staggered to her feet and lurched over. ¡°Az?..¡± Her friend smiled and steadied her wobbling legs. ¡°I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°But how? Where were you?¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s a long story. Where are the others?¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Polly pointed to the roof. It was going up in flames. ¡°There.¡± Azarelle looked. ¡°How do we get up?¡± Polly suddenly felt a strange lightness in her feet. The feeling rose up from her legs, hung upon her back, and took hold of her arms. She rolled her eyes. Of course. It would work now. She jumped. Her body hung in the air like a drifting snowflake. Azarelle raised an eyebrow. ¡°Flight?¡± She leaned forward and sniffed her shoulder. ¡°A potion?¡± Polly nodded. ¡°My last one. I should be able to carry us both.¡± She swept over the ground and picked up her dagger. Azarelle cast her eyes up at the roof a second time. ¡°Valis is up there.¡± Polly followed her gaze. ¡°Yeah.¡± They paused, regarding the roof for a moment before Polly spoke again. ¡°Are you ready?¡± Azarelle nodded. ¡°I am.¡± Polly floated over and held her under her arms. ¡°Then let¡¯s go.¡± II. Asterious took cover. He was starting to feel faint. His shoulder was bleeding heavily. Another ten minutes and it would be all over. Luckily, his right arm was still good. He couldn¡¯t attack without his dominant hand, but at least he could parry the god-angel¡¯s magic away. Generosity swung around. He raised his spear. The point flashed like a glimpse of the sun. Asterious dropped Whisker on the ground, brought up Lamp, and braced himself. Magic surged out from the angel¡¯s weapon, a dazzling beam of tightly focused light. Unlike mortals, the gods required few reagents to work magic. Their own power was more than enough for most arcane works. They required only the words of the casting, which were, after all, the true heart of any spell. Lamp¡¯s blade flashed a brilliant white and blue. The incoming magic curved away. Asterious put both hands out, bracing his feet against the ground and his other palm against the flat of the blade. The metal cracked. The deadly beam doubled back on itself and slashed into the sky. He would not be able to stop another attack. Generosity wheeled around. Asterious called up to him. ¡°Ready to surrender?¡± The creature laughed. The sound boomed. ¡°You are a fool, prince, and I will torture you for centuries for your foolishness. When I am done, your bleached skeleton will stand as a monument to your folly.¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°I always looked good in white.¡± The creature growled. ¡°Words, words, words. I despise your race.¡± Asterious chuckled. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you do us both a favour.¡± He spat. ¡°Go back to whatever hell you came from.¡± Generosity¡¯s grip tightened on its weapon. ¡°Blasphemer¡­¡± Asterious sneered. ¡°Despot.¡± The spear flashed. Asterious threw Lamp into the path of the magic. The blade shattered at the impact, scattering the beam in all directions as its protective enchantment sundered and broke. Generosity lurched back and brought up its hands to shield itself from the rays. Asterious kicked whisker up from the ground and caught it in his right hand. He flung it like a javelin through the air. It was an ugly throw. He was much better with his left, but his aim was good enough to sink the blade deep into the creature¡¯s exposed ribs. Generosity shrieked as the blade flashed with blackened light. The magic of the god-killing enchantment pulsed as it invaded the body of its ancestral enemy. Generosity fell from the sky and crashed down rolling from the roof out of view. Asterious took a tired breath and ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Another blow for freedom, my brothers.¡± Valis¡¯s chain suddenly appeared around his leg. He looked down. Crap. III. Ellyn shouted. ¡°Look out!¡± Asterious was hurled through the air. He crashed into a tall peak at the edge of the roof. She ran over to him. ¡°Are you alright?¡± He groaned, bloody and barely conscious. Valis came forward. ¡°Do you realize what you¡¯ve done? You will all be punished. I promise you.¡± Ellyn turned. Nathanius jumped in between them. ¡°Don¡¯t bet on it. Your master can¡¯t protect you now.¡± Valis¡¯s face twitched with rage. ¡°Others will come.¡± Nathanius gave him a sly look. ¡°Won¡¯t you be in trouble? You know, for letting him die like that? Not exactly a gold-star performance.¡± Valis¡¯s hand gripped the chain hard. The links cracked. ¡°You¡¯re wrong. My master will return, and when he does I will present your mangled corpses to him as a trophy of our victory.¡± Ellyn helped Asterious out of the crater in the roof. He could barely stand up. She turned to Valis. ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡± He chuckled. ¡°If it helps you to believe that...¡± He raised the chain. The shadowy tendrils of the spell rose up around them. ¡°¡­so be it.¡± Ellyn braced herself. The coils struck. Nathanius was still standing in the front. He tried to parry them away in vain, slashing and stabbing. Magic sparked and burst as his enchanted dagger struck the conjuration. Ellyn watched. Asterious mumbled. ¡°Leave me. Help him.¡± Ellyn nodded. She set him down and ran forward. The chains lashed out and wrapped around her legs. They yanked her forward off of her feet. She struck the ground with a scrape and a thud. Nathanius called out. ¡°Ellyn!¡± Valis pointed at her with his free hand. ¡°Still yourself, musician! Behave and I my masters may yet spare your life.¡± Ellyn shouted back. ¡°Go to hell!¡± She slashed at the chains. They scattered. She threw herself back to her feet beside Nathanius. Valis smiled. ¡°Very well, then. Death it shall be.¡± He raised the chain high over his head. Darkness rose. A voice called from the sky. ¡°No!¡± Their eyes snapped up as Polly and Azarelle came plummeting down to the roof. Polly dropped Azarelle. She drew her dagger and flung it at Valis with all her strength. The heavy blade spun through the air, flashing as it traced a vicious line down from her outstretched palm. His hand was sliced clean off. The chain fell to the ground. In the same instant the dark tendrils disbursed from the rooftop. Valis shrieked and fell backwards, writhing in pain as he gripped the severed stump of his arm. Polly landed and rolled, pointing with her left hand. A coil of black rope was wrapped around her wrist. It sprang from her arm, leaping through the air along the path of her finger to wrap around Valis. The coils tightened and tied, but began to loosen almost the moment the knots were secure. Azarelle hit the roof with a thud and shouted. ¡°Grab him! The magic is weak! It won¡¯t last long!¡± Ellyn didn¡¯t hesitate. She looked over at Nathanius, who nodded. The two of them ran forward and threw themselves onto Valis, pinning him to the ground. Ellyn put her knife against his throat. ¡°Don¡¯t move.¡± Valis hissed through his teeth. ¡°Are you prepared to kill me? I don¡¯t think so.¡± He smiled, even as he groaned in pain and gripped the stump of his lost hand. ¡°You don¡¯t have it in you.¡± Ellyn stared into his eyes. His face reminded her of Krodyn, the man who had captured her on the coast. It seemed like so long ago. She pressed the blade hard against Valis¡¯s skin until he bled. She whispered. ¡°I¡¯ve killed before.¡± Nathanius put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Easy.¡± Polly came over. ¡°Why not finish it? He¡¯d kill us in an instant if he got the chance.¡± Azarelle groaned as she slowly got to her feet. ¡°Seconded.¡± Asterious mumbled. ¡°There¡¯s been enough blood shed for one day. Besides, he¡¯s right. The god may be back, and we only came here to find Azarelle. We should go now, while we have the chance.¡± Polly looked down at Valis. ¡°I guess it¡¯s your lucky night.¡± She spat on the ground. ¡°Do me a favour and bleed to death.¡± She walked away. Ellyn stood up and put her knife back in her belt. As much as she hated to admit it, Asterious was right. Valis was helpless. It would be wrong to simply execute him. They weren¡¯t murders. Azarelle and Nathanius picked up Asterious and they all turned to leave. The rooftop exploded. A hole opened up in front of them, crumbling down into the mansion below, a swirling pit of fire and rubble. Valis laughed. ¡°You¡¯re too late.¡± A long arm rose up through the burning gap. It gripped a silver spear shot through with veins of white and silver. Red eyes blazed. Great wings unfurled as the creature rose up into the sky, skin as black as the deepest midnight. A gushing wound burned across its chest. Its ribs ran white with strange blood. Ellyn stared at it in wonderment and fear. She could see why ancient mortals thought them gods, but to see it here in front of her, full of mad violence and rage, she knew this being was no divine being. She saw only a monster. Its voice rumbled. ¡°Now, you will all die.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #51: Hubris ex Post Exiles Issue #51 ¡°Hubris ex Post¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright May 16th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Azarelle watched the creature rise out of the pit. Inch by inch, foot by foot, skin burning and wings outstretched. Fire clung to its body like burning pitch, but its flesh was not consumed. Generosity reached down with its huge hand and took hold of Asterious¡¯s sword. The blade was still protruding from its ribs. He yanked it out and crushed it in its grip. The metal flashed as it fractured and broke. It flung the pieces away. ¡°Prepare yourselves. The time of reckoning has come.¡± Asterious wobbled on his feet. Azarelle propped him up. ¡°What do we do?¡± He shrugged, still dazed. ¡°Without my weapons¡­not much.¡± Generosity laughed. ¡°That¡¯s right, prince. Today you will be repaid for the genocide your people committed.¡± Asterious shook his head weakly. ¡°You gave us no choice.¡± Generosity sneered. ¡°You should have accepted your place in the natural order. We were made to rule. You were born only to serve. And today¡­¡± He lowered his spear. ¡°I will show you why.¡± The weapon flashed. Azarelle¡¯s eyes went wide. For an instant a beam of familiar white light sprang from the deadly point. She knew the magic. She had seen it before. The pieces all suddenly came together, but too late. Or perhaps not. The magic fizzled inexplicably. Azarelle raised an eyebrow. Asterious chuckled. ¡°Having some trouble?¡± He patted his ribs. ¡°Old magic¡­it gets into the blood.¡± Generosity roared. ¡°Wretched pest! I will have my vengeance!¡± The creature lunged. Azarelle tightened her grip on Asterious and jumped back. The spear crashed into the rooftop. The force of the blow forced the point clean through the wood. Hungry flames licked up from the burning rooms below. Azarelle turned and desperately dragged Asterious away as the beast wrenched up its weapon for another strike. It came towards them, eyes fixed with murderous intent. Ellyn and Nathanius appeared behind it, their thin blades drawn. They slashed and stabbed at its legs. The creature roared and turned to face them, bringing its spear around in a slashing arc. They yelped and dodged away, but only just. Azarelle glanced around. The broken fragments of Asterious¡¯s sword lay scattered nearby. The shattered point was not two feet away. She turned to face Valis, still lying prostrate on the ground, clutching what was left of his arm. Polly stood over him. Azarelle grabbed the sword point and shouted to her friend. ¡°Polly! I have an idea! Search his cloak. The breast pocket!¡± Polly dove down. Valis tried to fight her off. She hit him in the face and thrust her hand into his cloak, drawing out the fragment of godsbone.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°This?!¡± Azarelle held out a hand. ¡°Yes! Now!¡± She threw it. Azarelle caught it out of the air. She turned to Asterious and held up the fragment of the sword. ¡°Would there be any magic left in this? In the pieces?¡± He mumbled an answer. ¡°A little.¡± She nodded. ¡°Then I¡¯m going to need your help.¡± She shouted at Nathanius. ¡°Keep him busy!¡± The man yelped as he dodged another massive blow. ¡°We¡¯ll do what we can! Just hurry!¡± II. ¡°Containment failure!¡± Azarelle turned. Jyll was on his feet, shouting. She looked up at the armature. ¡°Impossible¡­¡± The door crashed open. Half-a-dozen city officers came through, along with a representative from the Board of Deans. Azarelle shouted. ¡°Look out!¡± On instinct, she reached for the lever to abort¡­but it was no use. They hadn¡¯t reset the room. The bag of sand was empty. The whirling spindle of the armature fractured. Its huge metal arms burst, warped out of shape by the sheer reality-bending power of the spell rushing out through the fissure. A blinding ray of pure white light pierced the spiralling array, cutting like a fiery sword as the armature tottered on its axis. Azarelle threw herself flat on the floor. The sound was like a huge wind keening in a canyon. The ceiling crashed. Stone fell. Lab instruments broke and shattered. The armature blew itself apart, sending super-heated shrapnel in every direction. Azarelle screamed and covered her head, fully expecting to die. Several minutes passed before the chaos finally whistled to a halt. A broken piece of rock clattered to the floor. Outside, the sound of screams and wailing rose up in the street. Azarelle looked up. Through a cloud of smoke and dust she could see that the lab had been completely destroyed. The beam hadn¡¯t been stopped by the stone of the floor, nor by the blocks of the walls, nor the beams of the roof or the heavy planks of the door. It was frankly astonishing that the entire structure hadn¡¯t come down on their heads. Two officers groaned and lifted themselves up from the wreckage. The others lay on the ground, lifeless, cut into pieces by the magic¡¯s scything release. Azarelle got to her knees and crawled. ¡°Jyll, are you alright?¡± He didn¡¯t answer. ¡°Jyll?¡± He was against the wall, half-buried in the rubble. A table had been turned over on top of him. She shoved it aside. He was dead. His body had been sliced in two. She exhaled, shuddering. Her arms wobbled as her thoughts drained to blank. Numbness swept over her. She couldn¡¯t hear anymore or think. She reached a hand out to touch his face. He looked so scared. The two officers regained their footing and came forward. They took hold of her by the shoulders. She could feel tears streaming down her face. She clung to his robes as they pulled her. Her mouth formed the shape of a wail, but no sound came, or if it did, in her delirium she could not hear it. Time passed in a grey haze. In the end they pried her fingers from his clothing. A blow to the head. Ropes. Metal. Shackles. Jyll¡­ She had no memory of when they finally hauled her away. III. Asterious leaned in close. ¡°You¡¯re sure this is going to work?¡± Azarelle positioned the fragment of the sword on top of the godsbone and answered. ¡°Absolutely not.¡± He gave a weak smile. ¡°Sounds like my kind of plan.¡± Azarelle regarded the makeshift construct in doubt. The fight was not going well. They would have only a few moments to act. If she was right, the godsbone tablet would act in the same fashion as the complex isolation pattern she had used back in her lab. If they could build up the same well of power that she and Jyll had mustered, even the broken tip of the sword and the little magic it still contained would become a formidable weapon. Generosity charged across the roof. Ellyn ran. Nathius threw his knife after him. The blade stuck in the creature¡¯s back. It gave a harsh grunt and turned around. Defenseless, Nathanius backed slowly away. ¡°Now, Azarelle!¡± She looked at Asterious. ¡°I need the words for the incantation.¡± ¡°The incantion?¡± ¡°For the spell on your sword!¡± Asterious looked down at the broken point. ¡°It¡¯s too long to explain. I¡¯ll have to do it.¡± Azarelle thought it over for a moment and nodded. ¡°If this works, you won¡¯t be able to hear yourself.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have time to explain. Just don¡¯t let it distract you.¡± He nodded and put a hand on top of hers, resting on the tablet and the broken sword, steadying himself on her shoulder. ¡°Ready?¡± She nodded. He began to whisper. As she suspected, the incantation disappeared into the stilled weave the moment it left his lips. The sword point began to glow. Valis crawled toward them. ¡°What¡­what are you doing?¡± Azarelle kept her eyes fixed on the looming form of Generosity. There was no telling to where the spell would be directed. She desperately maintained the hope that the shape of the sword point would grant her some ability to aim. She could feel the magic starting to build. The tiny fragment of metal began to shimmer and shake, just as the armature had. That had been their mistake. She and Jyll had forgotten the true nature of the magic they were performing. Even in the presence of a perfect pattern¡ªor in this case, a substance¡ªto still the weave and magnify the magic, in the end, the words were all that mattered. It was the incantation itself that required the weave to be stilled, and the target of the enchantment still had to be able to withstand its power. She hoped that the tip of this broken sword would not. Asterious finished the incantation and let go. Azarelle grabbed his hand and replaced it on the blade. ¡°Again.¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Again?¡± She nodded. ¡°Yes, again! Over and over!¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°Just do it!¡± He began again. This time, she followed him through the spell. The two of them chanted. The scene felt eerily familiar. They cast the spell again and again as the great form of Generosity slowly closed in on Nathanius. Valis realized what they were doing and cried out. ¡°Master!¡± Generosity turned. The point of the sword rattled across the smooth surface of the godsbone tablet, all but dancing on end as the power of Asterious¡¯s spell built up inside it. Tiny rivulets of light began to filter out from its surface, threading into the air as the mortal metal of the weapon began to fatigue. Valis shouted again. ¡°Master!¡± Generosity turned. Its red eyes blazed. In a great swirl of motion it brought its spear back, preparing to hurl it towards them. The savage point gleamed with magic and fire. Too late. Azarelle looked up. Her eyes fixed with determination. The power of the gods. Just another hole in the air. The sword point cracked. A beam of blackened light surged out. Azarelle held on tight. The force of it kicked back as it rushed out like water from a ruptured pipe. The torrent of the spell struck Generosity full in the chest. The god¡¯s throat turned to the sky and howled. The noise shook the building to its roots. Windows shattered as the magic carried the creature into the air, hurling him into the sky, where he fell down lifeless into the city. For a moment everything went still: the roof, the city, the sky. Asterious gave a whoop. ¡°It worked!¡± Azarelle gritted her teeth. The magic was still flowing out. ¡°There¡¯s still a little bit left.¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°Not enough to fight. We have to go.¡± Azarelle narrowed her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re wrong. There¡¯s just not enough to fight another god.¡± She began to bring the stream down towards the roof. Polly turned. ¡°Az? What are you doing?¡± The spell came down on Valis. His eyes went wide and he struggled to move, but in his injured state he was too slow. He held the stump of his hand out in vain. ¡°No! Wait! Sto¡ª¡± A burst of black light flashed over him as the spell smashed into his body. His form went instantly limp. The sword point crumbled into dust, spent. Nathanius and Ellyn approached and helped them to their feet. Asterious took a tired breath. ¡°We have to go. The others will be coming.¡± Azarelle ignored him and walked to Valis¡¯s body. Kneeling, she began to tug at his cloak. Polly joined her. ¡°Az¡­¡± She answered. ¡°I can¡¯t take back what he did to me, but I could at least make him pay.¡± His cloak came off. She held it up in her fist. ¡°And this belongs to me.¡± Nathanius came over. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #52: Pandemonium Exiles Issue #52 "Pandemonium¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright May 16th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Azarelle sat quietly in the back of the little wagon. Polly lay down on the floor beside her, resting her leg. Ellyn was outside with Asterious. He was navigating. They¡¯d tied a strip of cloth tight around his arm to staunch the blood. Ellyn held the reins. Generosity¡¯s apparent death had applied a temporary brake to the undead advance. They¡¯d used it to escape. Now they were on the run. The city was in chaos. Blood and fire ran in the streets. Ashes fell like snow. Azarelle peered out the little window and watched. She didn¡¯t feel like talking. She¡¯d murdered the man. She¡¯d murdered him and stripped him bare on the ground. Polly reached up and put a hand gently on her calf. ¡°You did what you had to do.¡± Azarelle shook her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t have to do it. I wanted to do it.¡± Her friend shrugged. ¡°Sometimes that¡¯s just the way it goes.¡± Azarelle kept her eyes on the street. There were bodies everywhere. ¡°But I did do it.¡± Polly nodded. ¡°Yes.¡± She looked down at her. ¡°How can I¡­ I never¡­ I mean I never intentionally¡ª¡± Polly leaned up. ¡°Stop it. You did what you needed to do. Maybe you didn¡¯t have to do it, but people like Valis never get what they deserve. He did. You can live with that.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± Polly cut her off. ¡°No. No buts.¡±Stolen story; please report. Nathanius leaned in. ¡°I hate to break this up, but we still have a problem.¡± Azarelle looked over. ¡°What do you mean?¡± He pointed out the window. ¡°We still have to get out of the city, and if we manage to do that, we have no way to get anywhere. Am I the only one who remembers the plan? We were supposed to trade the amulets back to the Jaspers in exchange for a way out of town.¡± Polly reached over and picked up her bag. ¡°Maybe we don¡¯t have to anymore.¡± She drew out a package wrapped in oiled cloth. Azarelle recognized it as her own work. ¡°My stove spell?¡± Polly nodded. ¡°I took it from your room when Asterious and I were in the house.¡± She pointed to the little stove in the wagon. ¡°You can use it in that, right?¡± Azarelle nodded. She felt the corners of her mouth twitch in a little smile. And Polly was worried about being left behind. They would all have died if it hadn¡¯t been for her. She was a light in the dark. Azarelle nodded. ¡°I can.¡± Nathanius¡¯s whole body seemed to ease. ¡°Well, alright.¡± Ellyn leaned down to the window. ¡°The crowds are getting pretty thick.¡± Nathanius answered. ¡°Just keep heading south.¡± Ellyn answered. ¡°What¡¯s to the south?¡± ¡°Nothing. Barren wilderness.¡± ¡°So¡­what? We¡¯re just going to hide in the forest?¡± Polly shook her head and answered. ¡°If we can make it to the other side we¡¯ll arrive at Hane.¡± Ellyn cocked her head. ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± ¡°A timber colony on the edge of the Deep Fell, a forest that goes on for hundreds of miles.¡± ¡°What do we know about it?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Almost nothing.¡± Ellyn rolled her eyes. ¡°Great.¡± II. ¡°It¡¯s no use, general.¡± Hightower nodded grimly. The captain had returned. The retreat had failed. Whatever strange control these creatures had over his army had spread too quickly. There was an interruption when the one of the strange ¡°gods¡± had been brought down. The undead had paused, but it hadn¡¯t lasted long. Its allies reasserted control after only a few minutes. Fewer than five percent of the force managed to return, and there were already reports on the outskirts of the camp that the regulars were turning on their controllers. It was only a matter of time. He rolled up his maps and turned to his errant captain. ¡°Signal a general retreat. Leave the soldiers: controllers, captains, and living servants only. Pack only enough materiel to get us back to Tormar. The captains can drive the carts.¡± The captain balked. ¡°General? Are you sure?¡± He smiled. ¡°You can drive a cart, can¡¯t you?¡± The captain sputtered. ¡°Of course, general, but to leave the army¡­the chancellery will be incensed.¡± The general nodded. He was right. It was unlikely he would be forgiven when the defeat became fully known. The maps went into a long, heavy trunk. He lifted it onto a cart. ¡°I will take full responsibility for the defeat. The rest of you should be spared.¡± The captain frowned and gave a salute. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure, general.¡± Hightower turned to the man and chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t write me off just yet.¡± The captain nodded quickly and scampered off. Hightower gathered up his weapons. In truth, he had no intention of returning to Tormar. The long night had descended, and no government had ever survived the winter. During his time in exile he had seen more than a dozen empires rise and fall. After this excursion, it was likely Tormar would be no different. He¡¯d opposed the attack on Selapak. Waste of resources. Had they left the city-state alone, their own government would almost certainly have survived. In the end it was decided that the conquest was necessary. The chancellery was concerned the syndicate would become too powerful if it continued for another season. Now they would pay for their ambitions. The captain returned. ¡°The orders are given, general.¡± He nodded. ¡°Very well, then it¡¯s time for us to go.¡± They headed for the wagon seat. Hightower stopped. The bodyguards had moved. The ring was at least twenty feet closer than it had been before they¡¯d started packing. The captain looked around. ¡°General...¡± Hightower drew his weapon slowly. ¡°Stay close to me.¡± The soldiers turned, drew their weapons, and closed in. III. Lon threw another crate onto the barricade, but it was hopeless. The city was burning, strange gods wheeled across the sky, and undead soldiers ravaged rampant in the streets. Within hours the city would be theirs. He shouted. ¡°Rias!¡± His brother came running over and surveyed the scene. Lon opened his mouth, but Rias cut him off. ¡°I know.¡± Lon nodded. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡± Rias shook his head. What was left of the citizenry had gathered in the square. It was pandemonium. Rias lowered his voice. ¡°We have to leave.¡± Lon took a step back. That wasn¡¯t the kind of plan he¡¯d had in mind. ¡°What about all these people?¡± Rias frowned. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do for them now.¡± He pointed to the sky. ¡°We can¡¯t fight creatures like that.¡± Lon looked around. The truth of his brother¡¯s words dawned on him slowly. He was right. The fire was out of control, their army was routed, and their supplies were captured or destroyed. The tower loomed over them. He nodded. ¡°Alright. We¡¯ll go.¡± Rias led him away. The others were already waiting by a wagon in the corner of the square. The gods circled the city like vultures. Lon was heartened by the fact that he had already seen one of them die, slain by a blast of strangely coloured magic. They would have to discover how it was accomplished if they were ever to regain control, but that would take time. For now it would have to be enough to stay alive¡­and await their chance. He turned to Rias as they neared the wagon. ¡°Where do we go?¡± His brother answered. ¡°Someplace we can hide.¡± ¡°And where is that?¡± Rias grumbled, screwing up his nose in distaste. ¡°Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s a place that specializes in secrets.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Zachary Grey Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #53: Plain White Exiles Issue #53 ¡°Plain White¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright May 17th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The long night. They were into the fullness of it now. Selapak lay behind them, lost in the dark distance. Their humble wagon rumbled into the black. It was as though they had entered a cave. Their tiny stove offered the only lasting light. Nathanius called a halt to rest the animals. ¡°We have to stop here.¡± Polly answered. ¡°Is it far enough?¡± Nathanius examined the empty countryside. ¡°If it isn¡¯t, there¡¯s nowhere else to run.¡± Asterious dismounted and began to dig in the snow. ¡°There isn¡¯t much brush for wood.¡± Nathanius shook his head and looked out into the field. The light of the moon cast a ghostly pall over the endless plain. Shadows were moving in the darkness. His half-elven eyes picked out the dim silhouettes of other refugees in the gloom, fleeing the city in fear and desperation. Some had animals. Some had carts. Most had nothing. They probably wouldn¡¯t make it. He turned to Asterious. ¡°There won¡¯t be any fuel. We¡¯re in the middle of the plains, but the stove will be enough to keep us warm.¡± He waved him over and they got into the wagon. The others were huddled around the stove. Azarelle¡¯s spell was burning brightly. The iron fixture glowed in the dark. He turned to Ellyn. She was going through the supplies. ¡°So, how much food do we have?¡± ¡°Not much. As you know, most of the stuff we got from Valis is only good for magic.¡± Azarelle chimed in. ¡°Sorry about that.¡± Polly shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s alright. You were planning to stay, after all.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Azarelle pointed at a few of the crates. ¡°Some of those reagents are edible, but they probably won¡¯t taste very good.¡± Nathanius went to the pile. They had enough for a maybe a week, if they rationed. He didn¡¯t recognize most of the spell reagents, but one presumed that they had value. It would be better not to eat them. They would be useful for trade once they got to Hane.¡± Asterious raised his hand. ¡°We could try hunting. I could make traps. There¡¯s got to be some kind of wildlife out here. The only problem is you have to give them time to work. It will slow us down.¡± Nathanius looked at the others. ¡°Any other ideas?¡± Polly put up her hands. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me. I¡¯m a city girl.¡± Ellyn raised her hand. So did Azarelle. ¡°Me too.¡± ¡°And me.¡± Nathanius sat down. He looked at Asterious. ¡°It looks like we¡¯ll be depending on you for a while.¡± Asterious grinned. ¡°Fantastic.¡± Ellyn groaned. ¡°We¡¯re all going to die.¡± II. Valis opened his eyes. Something was wrong. He felt¡­empty. The last thing he remembered was being on the roof. Generosity had been killed, blown aside by some strange spell produced by Asterious and the professor. She¡¯d turned the magic on him¡­ His eyes snapped open. He was lying in a cold stone chamber. The walls were pure white. He sat up and looked himself over. The robe he¡¯d taken from Azarelle was gone. His body had been wrapped in linen, and there was a bone amulet dangling from his neck. No¡­ He checked his arm. His hand had been reattached. The door opened and a man came into the room. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡± He was wearing the uniform of the Tormar chancellery. Valis squinted. He recognized him. It was General Hightower, the leader of the expeditionary force. ¡°Morgan?¡± The general came forward. ¡°They weren¡¯t sure you were going to make it. Whatever magic they used against you seems to unravel the power of the god-angel creatures that brought this tower to the city. Luckily my clerics were able to fill in the gaps.¡± Valis mumbled. ¡°Then I¡¯m¡ª¡± Hightower smiled. ¡°Dead? I¡¯m afraid so.¡± ¡°But my mind¡­¡± The general nodded. ¡°The gods¡¯ magic. It didn¡¯t work at first, something about magic in your blood. Luckily, we were taking it out anyway. After that, they were able to bring you back in a way that preserved your faculties. We don¡¯t know how long it will last, but as long as you keep yourself in one piece, you should have at least a few good years, until the embalming begins to wear.¡± Valis looked around. There was no telling how much he knew or didn¡¯t know about his involvement with the gods, but it seemed like Tormar had submitted to his masters. That wasn¡¯t the plan. Something must have changed. He turned to Morgan. ¡°I need a mirror.¡± The general put up a hand. ¡°We¡¯ll get to that, but I warn you¡­the process is never perfect. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re not disfigured, but your pallor is going to be a little¡­wane.¡± Valis grumbled. ¡°I suppose there are worse fates.¡± Morgan nodded. ¡°Indeed. You could be dead.¡± Valis stood up. ¡°How did you get here?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡± ¡°You were captured?¡± ¡°Okay, not that long.¡± Valis chuckled. ¡°What news of the city? Are we prisoners?¡± The general shook his head. ¡°Not precisely, and you can drop the charade. The situation has been explained clearly enough.¡± Valis frowned. ¡°I see¡­¡± Morgan continued. ¡°The city has been secured. Our new benefactors are in control. When it was over they offered the officers and clerics positions in the new order. We saw fit to accept. For the moment the chancellery is supporting the field¡¯s decision. They¡¯ll be sending an envoy in a few weeks.¡± Valis nodded. ¡°And the Jaspers?¡± The general shook his head. ¡°Missing.¡± There was a grey robe hanging on a peg driven into to the wall. Valis put it on. Ordinarily he might have felt hungry or thirsty, but in his new¡­condition, he felt neither. It was an odd feeling, but Morgan was right, it was better than being dead. ¡°What of Generosity? Did he survive?¡± The general shrugged. ¡°They found the body and took it to some central chamber. That¡¯s all I know.¡± ¡°Central chamber? We¡¯re in the tower?¡± Morgan crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. ¡°For the moment. They gathered all the VIPs here. I think they wanted to keep an eye on us. I¡¯m sure when the envoy arrives we¡¯ll be let out and given assignments.¡± Valis nodded. ¡°How do you feel about all this?¡± The general shrugged. ¡°Meet the new boss. Not quite the same as the old boss.¡± Valis chuckled. ¡°Simple as that?¡± Morgan stood up. ¡°I¡¯m a general in exile. I¡¯ll serve whatever empire feeds me, and while I must say I didn¡¯t appreciate your little subterfuge when I heard of it, in the end it¡¯s all very much the same.¡± Valis went to the door. ¡°We can move about?¡± Morgan nodded. ¡°Only the outer rooms and corridors. There¡¯s no entry to the central chamber without an audience. So far no one has been granted one.¡± Valis shook his hand. ¡°Thank you for your help.¡± Morgan shrugged. ¡°Pragmatism, always.¡± Valis went out. III. Hightower watched as the sorcerer¡¯s form retreated down the long hall. He hated double-agents. Once a man revealed that he was willing to betray, he could never be trusted again. Valis disappeared around a corner. No matter. Hightower left, returning to his quarters. There was nothing they could do now but wait. These god creatures had their own plans, and Selepak was only the beginning. Clearly Tormar was the next, but could only guess at the gods¡¯ true intentions. As a general he had always been a keen student of history, but history revealed very little of the beings that once ruled the world; only that they had been brought down by the mortal races in a revolution known as the Iiari. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder what had driven them to revolt, and how it had been accomplished. He needed answers, and he was unlikely to find them here. There were no libraries on Kalkonu. There was one thing he knew for certain: the angel Generosity had been brought down, anything that could be injured could be killed, and someone out there already knew how it could be done. He had to find them. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #54: Nayathim Exiles Issue #54 ¡°Nayathim¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright June 11th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Valis stood outside the central chamber. The door was shut tight, a tall obelisk of pure white stone, chipped and traced with age. Thin fractures interlaced its featureless surface. The tower was called Nayathim. Valis had visited it before, shortly after he came to the continent. The gods themselves had led him to it, deep in the mountains to the north. The name meant: sleeping place. The formidable tower was all that remained of the ancient gods¡¯ last stronghold. After so many eons, there wasn¡¯t much left, but even in its degradation the structure was still a marvel to behold. As of this morning¡ªsuch as it was, as dark as any other day during the night¡ªthe tall portal had been shut for nearly a week. Valis visited it often, but had yet to be taken inside. There were no guards. No need. He dared not enter uninvited. What could they be doing? Morgan said they had taken the body of Generosity inside, and that since then there had been almost no contact at all, only cryptic messages and simple instructions delivered by undead servants. The city was in tatters. The fire had burned unchecked for two days until a blizzard finally blew in and snuffed it out. Precious few buildings remained. Dead soldiers stood sentry over the wreckage, Tormar¡¯s clerics worked feverishly to embalm and reanimate the fallen, while the leaders of the expeditionary force remained in the tower under house arrest, waiting for the chancellery¡¯s envoys to arrive. Valis frowned. The original plan didn¡¯t include involving Tormar¡¯s leadership. They were meant to be subjugated; instead, they were being enlisted. Why? Valis knew the gods better than most. They were powerful beings, but they weren¡¯t indestructible. But of course that was no secret. After all, it was a well-known historical fact that the mortal races had slain the gods in ancient times. He always knew they could be killed, but it had never occurred to him that they might prove to be so vulnerable to the contrivances of man. Asterious¡¯s strange magic had cut Generosity from the sky like pheasant impaled by a hunter¡¯s arrow. Perhaps that was the reason for their silence and the sudden change in strategy. The fall of Generosity was a blemish on the otherwise pure face of the gods¡¯ expression. Better not to be seen at all than to be seen as weak, and in the face of a new threat, perhaps new allies were in order. If they could be trusted. Valis¡¯s ears picked up the low grind of stone against stone and he turned. A linen-wrapped servant emerged from the doorway and gestured for him to follow. Valis obeyed. Finally, some answers. II. Nathanius was driving. He sat outside on the bench, wrapped in a dozen layers of fur-lined cloak, keeping their course. The rest of them lay in the wagon. With all of them inside, their body heat and the blaze of the ever-burning stove kept the interior warm indeed. Polly sharpened her knife. ¡°There¡¯s still one thing I don¡¯t understand.¡± Asterious looked up. He was sitting by the miniature stove, stirring the contents of a little iron pot with a wooden spoon. They¡¯d managed to snare a pair of rabbits. He¡¯d drained and dressed them the previous night; now he was making stew. It was almost done.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. He tasted it. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Polly brushed her thumb across the edge of her dagger. ¡°It¡¯s about the gods. They¡¯re so powerful. Why bother with Tormar¡¯s army? Why not just take over the city themselves?¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°Old habits.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Old habits?¡± He nodded. ¡°The gods have always been a paranoid bunch.¡± ¡°Paranoid?¡± He took a pinch of salt from a bag they¡¯d dug out of Valis¡¯s supplies and added it to the stew. ¡°They¡¯re strong, but they can be killed, and while they can tell when someone is thinking about them, they don¡¯t know everything. They need worshippers and supporters, not just to increase their power, but to solidify their rule. What better way to achieve that than to install themselves as emperors and kings?¡± He took the pot off the stove and began to portion out the stew. ¡°It was the same way back in the old days. The gods weren¡¯t just religious icons. They were spiritual and civic leaders.¡± He handed her a bowl. Polly started eating. ¡°You make it sound like people loved them.¡± Asterious opened the little front window and passed a steaming bowl out to Nathanius. ¡°They did. Even during the revolution, there were as many people who fought for them as against them.¡± Polly looked up from her soup. ¡°People fought for them?¡± Asterious nodded. ¡°Right up until the end. When it became clear that the revolution would be victorious their support began to drop away, but in the early years we probably spilled more mortal blood than they did. You have to understand, most people didn¡¯t want to believe that their gods could be evil. They¡¯d spent their whole lives thinking of them as benefactors. They brought rain, harvests, and wealth. They cured the sick and healed the injured. They were even known to prevent natural disasters. The people revered them. They built their palaces gladly, and being selected to live among them was society¡¯s highest honour.¡± He took a sip of his soup and let out a sigh. ¡°Artists and artisans used to study all their lives, praying that one day they would be chosen. Even after the truth became known, most couldn¡¯t bring themselves to accept it, and even if they did, a great many believed their gifts were worth the price.¡± Polly frowned. ¡°Do you think that¡¯s going to happen again?¡± Asterious finished his stew. ¡°They¡¯re going to try. Of that you can be sure. Kalkonu is the perfect place for them. This whole valley is filled with desperate people. It won¡¯t take the gods long to garner a following, and the longer we give them to establish themselves, the harder it will be to force them to relinquish their hold.¡± He picked up the last two bowls. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡± He crawled in between the crates to the rear of the wagon. Polly put her knife away. She knew what it was like to be alone in the dark, cold, scaredc and starving. She couldn¡¯t help but wonder what she might have been willing to sacrifice if someone had come along and told her that they could save her. No. She didn¡¯t have to wonder. She knew. III. Ellyn looked over as Asterious sat down. ¡°Dinner?¡± He handed her a bowl. ¡°Rabbit stew.¡± She sipped the broth. ¡°It¡¯s good.¡± He grinned. ¡°Glad you like it.¡± He passed a second bowl gently to Azarelle and returned to the front. Azarelle set her bowl aside. She was working. She had some kind of drawing spread out on the floor. It took up almost the whole space, and according to her, what she had out wasn¡¯t even half of it. Ellyn watched. ¡°So you worked at the university in Sylarea?¡± Azarelle nodded absently. ¡°Twelve years in the capital.¡± Ellyn nodded. ¡°And you were a teacher?¡± She glanced up. ¡°A professor. I taught a few classes to maintain my tenure, but my job was mostly research.¡± Ellyn pointed at the paper on the floor. ¡°Like this?¡± Azarelle sat up and cracked her back. She grabbed her stew and drank deep. ¡°Not really. This is more of a personal project. I¡¯m hoping to work on it while we travel. The work I did at the university was more complicated.¡± Ellyn leaned down and examined the markings. ¡°I wish I could do magic.¡± Azarelle finished her soup and picked up her stylus. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± ¡°I feel so useless. I mean, what good is music in a place like this?¡± Azarelle shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not without its uses. You can sing for your supper, or a room; none of us can do that.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t do a lot of singing these days.¡± Azarelle looked up. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to bring it up.¡± Ellyn waved her off. ¡°It¡¯s alright. I almost don¡¯t notice it anymore.¡± Azarelle finished her stew and set the bowl aside. ¡°Do you mind if I ask how it happened?¡± Ellyn hesitated. She¡¯d never planned to share the story. It wasn¡¯t something she was proud of. Of course now that she was here, maybe it didn¡¯t matter anymore. ¡°It was after I left the chora. I was working for someone. They asked me to keep a secret.¡± Azarelle leaned down and started making fresh marks on the drawing with her stylus. ¡°And you didn¡¯t?¡± Ellyn shook her head. ¡°No.¡± That was enough for now. The rest didn¡¯t matter. ¡°What about you?¡± The professor looked up. ¡°Me?¡± ¡°How did you end up here?¡± She resumed her work. ¡°A friend and I were going to change the world. I got carried away. In the end it blew up in our faces.¡± Ellyn picked up her guitar and began to play. ¡°Do you mind?¡± Azarelle shook her head, eyes still on the paper. ¡°By all means. It¡¯s no bother.¡± The song wandered, neither fast nor slow, neither cheerful nor sad. It was an idle tune, what the journeymen of the chora called a carriage piece. Azarelle listened as she worked. ¡°You know, back when I was taking my undergrad I audited a course on instrumental magic. It¡¯s a shame we don¡¯t have any reference material. I bet you¡¯d be good at it.¡± Ellyn stopped playing and lifted an eyebrow. ¡°Instrumental magic?¡± Azarelle nodded absently. ¡°Mhmm, magic words are just sounds in the end. There are spells that are cast by playing tones rather than speaking phrases. It¡¯s a whole field of study. I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t come across it in the chora.¡± Ellyn resumed playing. ¡°I wasn¡¯t with them for very long.¡± Azarelle set down the stylus and massaged her hand. ¡°I don¡¯t recall much from the course, but maybe we can find you some books when we get to Hane.¡± Ellyn chuckled. ¡°At a logging town? I doubt it.¡± Azarelle conceded. ¡°You¡¯re probably right. In the meantime, I¡¯ll see how much I can remember.¡± Ellyn kept playing. She stared up at the ceiling and wondered. ¡°You really think I could do it?¡± Azarelle picked her stylus back up. ¡°Probably. Magic isn¡¯t as hard as it looks. It¡¯s mostly memorization. The rest is expense. Components don¡¯t come cheap.¡± Ellyn looked around. The wagon was packed with the crates from Valis¡¯s stash. ¡°At least we don¡¯t have to worry about that.¡± Azarelle chuckled. ¡°True.¡± Ellyn leaned back against the wall. The wagon smelled like rabbit stew. She shut her eyes and carried on playing, thinking back to the moment when she¡¯d decided to save Asterious and Nathanius. Who would have ever thought that one, impulsive, desperate decision would have led to all this? The strange part was: knowing what she knew now, she wasn¡¯t sure if she wouldn¡¯t do it all over again. She chuckled. Who the hell was she kidding? They¡¯d cut out her tongue and sent her into exile. Of course she wouldn¡¯t. But maybe it wouldn¡¯t be so bad. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #55: Occupation Exiles Issue #55 ¡°Occupation¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright June 25th, 2018 www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The Halcyon Choir. Valis stood in awe. Many years had passed since the day he first stood in their gathered presence. The chamber was exactly as he remembered it. The ceiling rose up forever, a soaring column of air, cloud, and diffuse light. The walls were made from pure white stone, impaled by massive shards of jagged crystal the colour of fresh blood. They seemed to grow from the rock, keening with power, each producing its own note. Together, they sounded almost musical. Generosity was entombed inside the largest crystal. He towered over the space, flanked by his remaining brothers and sisters. His eyes glowed dimly. A huge scar of white-stained flesh marred his pristine chest and obsidian skin. When he spoke, his voice rang like a great bell in Valis¡¯s mind. The power of it echoed in his bones. You disobeyed. Valis fell to his knees. ¡°I did.¡± The god¡¯s eyes shrank to a pair of angry points. You will be punished. Valis felt a sudden pain clutch the centre of his chest. His vision grew dim and he collapsed onto the floor. A kind of sinking darkness invaded his mind. His thoughts fled, slipping away like ribbons of candle smoke. He cried out, gripping his head, but the only sound that escaped his lips was a low and baleful moan. Then it was gone. The darkness abated and his thoughts returned. Valis climbed back to his knees. ¡°What was that?¡± There was a pause. Your true fate. You are dead. Your body is a husk. Only our power sustains your mind. Were it not for your success securing our foothold, you would already be consigned to oblivion. Valis gritted his teeth. He had never failed his masters before. Curse that damned sorcerer! He¡¯d allowed himself to be distracted. It would not happen again. He bowed his head. ¡°I beg your forgiveness.¡± There was a long silence. The sound of the red crystals hummed quietly. Valis waited. Generosity replied. Forgiveness is earned. Continue to serve. Succeed, and you may yet be among the selected. Valis nodded. ¡°What would you have me do?¡± The sorcerer has gained the power of the Iiari. She must be eliminated. Valis lifted his head. ¡°The power of the Iiari? You mean the magic from the rooftop?¡± Yes. ¡°What is it?¡± The air seemed to rumble. That is not for you to know. The magic is of the past. ¡°Then how did the sorcerer get it?¡± The Son. Valis remembered Del Rossi¡¯s words. The last son of Gondavol. He whispered. ¡°Asterious¡­¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! The other gods turned their heads. Their impassive, stone faces flared suddenly with angry light. Generosity spoke again. An old enemy. All but the last. He too must be removed. You will see to it. Valis bowed his head again. ¡°Yes, master. But how?¡± This city will be the centre of our new dominion. We will create a new army from its inhabitants. The rewards will be great. They will follow us. ¡°And me?¡± The son and the sorcerer have gone to the south. You will go there. Search the cities. When you find them, send word and we will grind them into dust. The door opened. Valis stood up and bowed again. ¡°It will be done.¡± He left. As he re-entered the corridor, a final thought echoed lowly in his mind. Do not disobey again. II. Hightower sat alone. The activity of the bar rumbled low and muted in his ears. His drink was empty. The citizens of Selapak kept their distance, eying him suspiciously as they passed. When they were forced to get close they nodded, smiling with a kind of forced deference the general recognized all too well. Morgan Hightower, war leader for hire. Prior to his exile he had conquered a dozen cities, and no matter what flag he flew, the invasions always ended the same way: occupation, a slow and treacherous grind. Seizing a city was easy; convincing the locals to let you keep it was the true task. A conquered city was an open wound. Ill-managed, even a powerful empire could bleed to death attempting to close it. He got up from the table, passing a member of the chancellery on the way to the bar. Tormar had chosen to accept the gods¡¯ offer, or so it was now being called. The general chuckled. He¡¯d been around long enough to recognize an ultimatum when he heard it. Every city-state in the region, no matter how large or small, had been given the same order to submit. The first to accept would be given pride of place at the right hand of the gods; the rest¡­ No matter. Tormar had donned the mantle gladly. The general wasn¡¯t surprised. The chancellery had always been a little zealous. He and the other officers had all been returned to their units. He¡¯d appointed the captain he¡¯d been captured with to serve him on an interim basis. All his own aides were dead. At the moment the captain was busy gathering readiness reports. The general had decided to retire for the evening while he contemplated his first assignment: to locate and capture the Jasper brothers, the former rulers of the city, still at large. He¡¯d never met them. He didn¡¯t even know what they looked like. A bar seemed like a good place to start. The establishment he¡¯d chosen was the last in the city. The rest had all burned, or were shuttered for the night. It was a nice place, especially given the normally meagre circumstances found on the continent. It was called the House of the Red Silk Curtains. It was owned by the Blind-Deaf Ladies, a kind of elite hospitality guild, offering everything from trained bartenders and musicians to personal escorts. Their members all wore red, and could be found in almost every major city in the valley. It was rumoured that their intelligence network was unequalled. If anyone knew where to find the Jaspers, it was them. Unfortunately, their guild¡¯s first and highest oath was never to divulge its secrets. But if there was one thing he had learned over the years, it was that during an occupation, an oath could not always be trusted. He arrived at the bar. It was long and made from oak, with a brass rail. A curiosity. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder where they¡¯d found the materials. He waved the bartender over. III. Oh, how the mighty fall. Lon looked at his hands. His fingers were raw and pruned from the hot water. The sink was deep. A waiter swept by and dropped a fresh load of plates on the scrub counter. With a sigh, Lon picked up the first, dipped it in the suds, and grabbed a brush. He hadn¡¯t done this sort of work since he was a teenager in his father¡¯s restaurant. His brothers were spread around the room, cooking and cleaning, while the head chef and his assistants buzzed from station to station. It was a busy night; in fact, that they were open at all was highly unusual. Under ordinary circumstances the Blind-Deaf Ladies¡¯ hotel was closed through the long night, if for no other reason than to keep out vandals and thieves. He and his brothers had planned to do the same. The occupation had certainly done away with all of that, to say nothing of the so-called gods¡¯ arrival. His face itched. He forced himself not to scratch. The dominaa hadn¡¯t asked them to take the oath, but in order to keep up appearances she¡¯d arranged for the house tattooist to apply some kind of semi-permanent makeup to their faces to create the illusion that they bore the organization¡¯s distinctive markings. It caused a hell of an irritation, but at least it wouldn¡¯t rub off. He grabbed the next plate. As it happened, the occupation was also the reason for the evening¡¯s rush. Tormar¡¯s leaders had established an alliance with the ¡°gods.¡± Their officers had been released from confinement and the units around the city had been placed back under their control. There weren¡¯t many locals left in the city. Most had died in the fire, or fled, or frozen when their shelters were destroyed. The few that survived were now huddled in the ruins, waiting to see what would happen next. The barman popped his head back through the dining room door. ¡°I could use a hand out here.¡± The head chef turned to Lon. ¡°Get on it.¡± Lon set the brush aside and dried his hands. He would have preferred not to go out, but he had to blend in and obey instructions. The dominaa and the tattooist were the only ones who knew who they really were. His brothers watched him as he put on a red vest and went out the door. The barman pointed. ¡°Down there. The soldier on the end.¡± Lon went. The ¡°soldier¡± was too old to be an ordinary footman, and his uniform suggested a far higher rank. He had an empty glass in front of him. Lon picked it up. ¡°Refill?¡± The man looked up. ¡°Gin, if you¡¯ve got it.¡± Lon nodded. ¡°We do.¡± He went to the bottles. He poured the man a double and brought it back. The man reached into his coat. Lon waved him off. ¡°It¡¯s on the house.¡± The man raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡± Lon picked up a rag and started wiping down the bar. The wood wasn¡¯t dirty, but it seemed like the kind of thing a real bartender would do. ¡°They told us to keep an eye out for flag officers.¡± It was a lie. Lon and his brothers had their own plans, and positioning themselves to bring down the new government was priority number one. The man smiled. ¡°Looking for friends in high places?¡± Lon shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s only natural.¡± The man sipped his gin. Lon had given him the good stuff. He seemed satisfied by it as he set the glass down empty. ¡°So how did you know?¡± Lon pointed. ¡°Your uniform; plus, you seemed a little too experienced to be on the front line.¡± The man chuckled. ¡°Too old, you mean.¡± Lon smiled. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to say anything.¡± He refilled off the glass. ¡°I heard they let you all out today.¡± The man looked up. ¡°You did, eh?¡± Lon nodded. ¡°Word gets around.¡± The officer turned the glass in place on the bar. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve heard anything else? I¡¯m looking for a group of men¡­brothers.¡± Lon paused. Oh, dear. He forced himself to smile and tapped his ¡°tattoos.¡± ¡°Sorry. Rules are rules.¡± The man nodded and finished his drink. ¡°Fair enough.¡± Lon held up the bottle. ¡°One more?¡± The man shook his head. ¡°No, I¡¯ve had enough. I have work to do.¡± Time to set the hook. ¡°What kind of work?¡± The man pulled out a coin purse and left a tip. Tormar money. It wasn¡¯t any good in Selapak, even before the long night. Still, it was a nice gesture. The man answered. ¡°Securing the city. We¡¯ve got to get these people though the night.¡± Lon sneered internally. How noble. He leaned in. ¡°And you need these ¡®brothers¡¯ to do that?¡± He gave a slow nod. ¡°In a way. I think you know the men I¡¯m talking about. They could be trouble, and this city doesn¡¯t have time for trouble.¡± Lon straightened up, looked him dead in the eye. ¡°Sounds like a worthy cause.¡± He put his hand over the tip. ¡°It¡¯s a shame we aren¡¯t allowed to come to an¡­arrangement.¡± The man raised an eyebrow. ¡°Indeed.¡± Lon smiled and picked up the money from the bar. ¡°Well, it was a pleasure meeting you¡­colonel?¡± The man thumped his hand on the bar. ¡°General, actually, but you can call me Morgan. And you are?¡± Lon caught himself. Crap. He hadn¡¯t thought of that. He reached out a hand and blurted out the first name that came to mind. ¡°Nathanius.¡± The general shook his hand. ¡°Friends in high places.¡± Lon grinned. ¡°The highest.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #56: Course of Study Exiles Issue #56 ¡°Course of Study¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright July 2nd, 2018 www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The music faded. Ellyn growled in frustration. ¡°It isn¡¯t working.¡± Azarelle kept her eyes on her work and answered absently. ¡°Your timing¡¯s off.¡± Ellyn glared. ¡°It is not.¡± Azarelle shrugged. ¡°Okay.¡± Ellyn sat for a moment, cradling her guitar. It was the same old, beat-up instrument she¡¯d picked up back at the Notch. She¡¯d been forced to leave the one the Blind-Deaf Ladies had given her behind. Actually, she¡¯d been forced to do a lot more than that. Her hand drifted to her face. She was marked, a fugitive, even more hotly pursued than her friends. The dominaa would never forgive her for what she¡¯d done. Even if she did manage to get the tattoos removed, her name would be poison forever. She took up the guitar and tried the piece again. The fingering was strange. It didn¡¯t have a melody as such, but it wasn¡¯t entirely without a pattern either. It wasn¡¯t music, or at least it wasn¡¯t like any music she¡¯d ever heard or studied. As for the spell, it was the only one Azarelle could remember from her old school days. It was supposed to aid in sleep and healing. Ellyn had been working on it for days. Her fingers danced over the strings in a stochastic waltz. With each note, the sound seemed to grow and rebound. It was as though the tones were ricocheting off each other as they emerged from the strings and as they did, the air in the cramped cabin began to change. It smelled cleaner and felt softer. It warmed. Ellyn felt her muscles relax. Azarelle began to nod off. Then, as before, it all just fizzled away. Azarelle perked up, shaking her head. ¡°Timing.¡± Ellyn glowered. ¡°Will you shut up about the timing. I¡¯ve been playing guitar for years. I think I know how to read sheet music.¡± Azarelle yawned. ¡°It isn¡¯t music.¡± Ellyn held up the page. ¡°Well it sure looks like it.¡± Azarelle leaned up, put her palms behind the small of her back and pushed, popping her joints. ¡°That¡¯s just the way they get it on the paper. You can¡¯t think of it like a song. It¡¯s a spell. It has to be played exactly. No embellishment.¡± Ellyn reviewed the notes. ¡°I just don¡¯t get it. How can magic played on instruments not be musical? It seems so¡­counterintuitive.¡± Azarelle shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t make the rules.¡± Ellyn grumbled and readied her fingers for another attempt. Azarelle leaned up. ¡°Actually, can you do me a favour? Practice outside for a little while? You keep almost putting me to sleep.¡± Ellyn¡¯s face fell flat. ¡°It¡¯s freezing outside.¡± Azarelle leaned back over and resumed her work. ¡°Not if you play the spell right.¡± II.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Nathanius stared out into the dark. Only the animals knew where they were going now. He hoped. The cloud cover had blotted out the stars. Their little wagon was the last of the refugee throng. After two weeks all the others had dropped away, falling back into the snowbound distance to freeze, starve, and perish. Now and then he saw a light behind them, but the tiny points were never visible for long. It was a shame. He comforted himself that his plan had worked, at least in part. They had focused on their survival; now they were going to survive. They¡¯d played the system, taken advantage of the powerful, and in the end¡­fled. As a reward, among those who had escaped the city, they alone would survive the long journey to Hane. It was a mean existence but it worked. Confirmation bias, perhaps. They could just as easily have died, but thanks to their collective cunning¡ªnot to mention Asterious¡¯s impressive foraging skills¡ªthe five of them were all going to make it. Nathanius shivered. The cloaks did little to stave off the cold. Asterious would be taking over in the next few hours. He would finally get a chance to warm up and rest. But for now, he stared, eyes probing the black for any sign of their destination, hoping to catch a glimmer of light ahead. The rear door opened. Nathanius turned as Ellyn emerged and climbed up onto the roof. He faced forwards again. ¡°What are you doing up so late?¡± She crawled forward over the cargo heaped on the roof. ¡°How can you tell it¡¯s late?¡± Nathanius chuckled. Fair point. ¡°Well, the others are asleep.¡± Ellyn shook her head. ¡°Az is still awake, working.¡± Nathanius gathered his cloak tighter around himself. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to think she never sleeps. I wonder what it is she¡¯s always working on.¡± Ellyn sat down beside him. ¡°Who knows? Probably some spell.¡± Nathanius thought it over. ¡°I wonder if Polly knows.¡± Ellyn shrugged and got out her guitar. Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re doing that out here?¡± Ellyn nodded and began rubbing the strings down with a damp cloth. The smell coming off it was oily and sweet. Nathanius wrinkled his nose. ¡°What is that?¡± Ellyn kept working. ¡°Some kind of mixture. Azarelle made it. She called it a reagent. It¡¯s supposed to make the magic work.¡± ¡°Magic?¡± She nodded. ¡°Instrumental magic. Azarelle taught me the basics. This is some kind of resting spell. It was the only one she could remember. I haven¡¯t got it right yet, but apparently it was putting her to sleep so she sent me out here.¡± Nathanius gave a wry grin. ¡°You? Not playing it right?¡± She grumbled. ¡°Shut up. It¡¯s not like regular music.¡± ¡°How so?¡± ¡°You can¡¯t play it like regular music. At least that¡¯s what Azarelle told me. No personal touch. No feeling.¡± Nathanius frowned. ¡°That sounds weird.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I said.¡± ¡°You think she¡¯s right?¡± Ellyn slumped in her seat. ¡°I guess so. She¡¯s the professor.¡± Nathanius fell silent. He didn¡¯t have an answer to that, and it wasn¡¯t really his business. Ellyn started playing. In the darkness as she did, the strings of the guitar began to glow softly. The notes danced in the air, striking each other like wind chimes. The music wrapped around them, vibrating in harmony. The frigid air warmed. Nathanius felt his muscles relax. The cold discomfort that had invaded his joints began to ease. He took a long breath. ¡°It feels great.¡± Ellyn scrunched up her mouth. ¡°Wait for it.¡± She got a few measures in before the glow inexplicably faded. The chill of the air returned. Nathanius frowned. ¡°What happened?¡± Ellyn shrugged. ¡°Like I said. I haven¡¯t got it right just yet.¡± Nathanius smiled and thumped his hand against her knee. ¡°Well, you keep right on practicing. It¡¯s freezing out here. I¡¯ll take my relief in bursts.¡± She laughed. ¡°Okay.¡± And so she did. Nathanius sat beside her, urging the animals on across the empty field. The journey wouldn¡¯t have been so bad if they could see. The scenery passed by as a darkened shadow: nothing for, nothing against, just¡­nothing. It gave him too much time to think. He found himself slipping into foul moods. Pensive moods. The kind that made you question your choices. The air warmed again and he felt better, if only for a few minutes before the music lapsed a second time. Ellyn cursed. A few minutes later she struck up the piece a third time. Nathanius found himself wondering how many times she had gone through this process as a child and student, practicing a new composition over and over, again and again, until the notes came as easily as twiddling her thumbs. Play. Mistake. Repeat. Mistake. Repeat. Then he was low again. He frowned, staring at the backs of the animals. How many times had he been down this road? He didn¡¯t care to count, but one thing was certain: He always seemed to end up running. III. ¡°Nathanius?¡± He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. ¡°Yes?¡± The door in the main room opened and Fest walked in. He was a Halfling. He had long, straight, black hair that he wore in a tail, and a scar that traced the length of his face from his forehead to his chin. He claimed he won it in the war, but it was more likely that he earned it in a bar fight. As a friend, he wasn¡¯t bad; as a contact, he was better. Fest was an influential member of the Water Road, a smuggling ring that operated all over the Sea of Capran. They took their name from the highway that ran along the coast of Gelande, their home territory. Lately they¡¯d been making inroads in Sylarea. Which was where he came in. He was small time. There was no denying that. Llay wasn¡¯t much more than a rest-stop on the shore. No real action. But it was nine days and a whole sea away from Myle, his father, his mother, and everyone else who ever knew him, and that made it a good place to start. He¡¯d been in Llay for thirteen months. It was quaint: nice little shore market, plenty of shops, and a caf¨¦ around the corner from his flat that served a pretty good cup of coffee. It was almost enough to make him forget everything he¡¯d left behind. The only drawback was the smell coming off the shore markets: fish, smoke, spices, and too much sugar-cured fruit. The combination was oppressive. At least the people were friendly enough, for Sylareans anyway. Even as a half-elf, he hadn¡¯t been expecting such a warm welcome. The war was only twenty years old. This town must not have been affected. He supposed it made sense. Most of the fighting had taken place on the opposite coast. A fish town like Llay probably hadn¡¯t seen more than a wave of refugees. Anyway. Fest. The two of them met down at the docks. Nathanius made his living there as a trader. Buy low. Sell high. That sort of thing. He¡¯d found his niche as a sort of agent for local shop owners. Fest had arrived a ship full of salt he wanted to unload quickly. The ship itself was scarred from battle and the price was far too low to be legitimate. Nathanius made him for a pirate on the spot. He didn¡¯t have a problem with pirates. He and his father had done business with plenty. He bought the salt immediately and made it clear that should Fest find himself with similar goods in the future, he would be happy to take them off his hands. It was a good match. They did business for months before Nathanius let him in on the idea that¡ªeventually¡ªgave rise to the present evening¡¯s business. He finished combing his hair and stepped out into the room. It was a studio apartment. His bed was right across from the door. There was a little table in the corner by the stove. Fest leaned up against it and gave him a disapproving look. ¡°You spend too much time on your looks.¡± Nathanius laughed. ¡°I guess if I looked like you, I wouldn¡¯t bother either.¡± Fest grinned. ¡°That¡¯s right. Got to think about what¡¯s important. You arrange our little meeting?¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°Tonight. You bring the money?¡± Fest slapped his hand against a bulging pouch fastened to his hip. ¡°Five hundred.¡± Nathanius smiled. ¡°Worth every penny. And for me?¡± Fest grinned. ¡°After the meeting, if it goes as well as you¡¯ve promised.¡± Nathanius grabbed his things. It was a fair condition. After all, if it didn¡¯t go as promised, they would both be spending the next few years in jail. He went to the window. It was night. The meeting was with the captain of the local watch. There wasn¡¯t much of a legal presence in Llay, but the town had grown enough since the war to warrant small militia. Nathanius had developed a working relationship with them. It had taken a few weeks and more than a few drinks to manoeuvre the captain into a meeting. If it went as he hoped, the Water Road would begin using Llay as a gateway to Sylarea. He and the watch stood to earn a sizable percentage. Fest stood up from the table. ¡°Ready?¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± It was dark when they stepped out into the street. The meeting place was a few miles outside of town on a secluded bit of beach. Fest would take the two of them by boat. The moon was barely a sliver in the sky. Clouds blotted out the stars. A bad night for sailing. A perfect evening for a deal. Nathanius smiled in spite of himself. Maybe his luck was finally turning around. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #57: Sleepless Exiles Issue #57 ¡°Sleepless¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright July 16th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The sky was black. The snow fell thickly into the torchlight, emerging from the darkness like an army of meandering ghosts. Valis watched the undead servants load the wagon, toiling away under the watchful gaze of their clerical overseers, shivering in their fur-lined robes, clutching their amulets with hard knuckles all but frozen to white. Those same amulets had failed them only a few days earlier. Now they lived in fear and submission. Tormar had built the perfect army: obedient, tireless, and relentless, and the gods could take it from them at any time. The last crate was put on board. It was mostly food for the animals. They¡¯d managed to drum up a pair of yaks to pull the sled. They wouldn¡¯t be the fastest on the plain, but they could withstand the cold. Valis would have preferred a wagon or a coach. It would have been more comfortable, but the sleigh would be more reliable. He couldn¡¯t risk getting bogged down travelling alone, and as for comfort, he¡¯d discovered he didn¡¯t mind the cold so much since his¡­return. In all the ways that mattered he was still just as dead as he had been the moment Azarelle brought her magic down upon him. The clerics of Tormar had preserved his body; the will of the gods had saved his mind. None of the power that kept him living was his own. Like the clerics who stood around him shuddering in their boots, he was bound irrevocably to the service of his masters. ¡°¡­¡± Valis looked up. Nexus came swooping down from the sky. It was the first time he¡¯d laid eyes on him since the battle. He confessed to being a little relieved. The bird perched on his shoulder and pecked at his wrappings. Valis shooed him away and he flitted over to the sleigh. ¡°¡­¡± Valis chuckled. ¡°Good to see you too.¡± The bird cocked its head. ¡°¡­¡± Valis nodded. ¡°I am different.¡± ¡°¡­¡± He huffed out a laugh. ¡°Well, it wasn¡¯t exactly my idea.¡± The bird chortled. ¡°¡­¡± Valis frowned. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think it can be fixed.¡± The two of them watched as the clerics and their wards retreated into the building, leaving them alone in the puddle of light outside the mansion. Tormar had annexed the Jaspers¡¯ old lodgings to house their administration. It was as good a place as any, and well-supplied for the winter. Valis looked out over the empty courtyard. The city was dead. The heat and energy from the last day and the battle had long since bled away into the night. All that remained were thin slivers of light and life, gleaming furtively through tightly fastened shutters and barricaded doors. A wolf howled in the distance. There was always a period of quiet at the beginning of the night. Valis had been on the continent long enough to know what to expect. Those who were prepared were holed up; those who weren¡¯t hadn¡¯t yet discovered the hiding places of those who were. Before long the less-fortunate would begin to run out of whatever meagre supplies they had managed to gather. They would be forced to venture out, foraging in the dark, preyed upon by gangs of thugs and packs of wild animals. As time drew on, greater and greater numbers would reach the breaking point. In the end, only the lucky would survive.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Perhaps tonight would be different. Valis looked again up at the sky. His masters¡¯ tower loomed in the dark space. Its outline was barely visible. The gods could keep the masses in check. He recalled once telling Azarelle that the conquest would save lives. The truth was that it only made the casualties appear¡­orderly. A wave of attrition was inevitable, either during the battle or afterwards due to the destruction of shelter, food, and fuel supplies. That was the whole point, and the situation had played out exactly as his masters intended. Tormar and Selapak were crippled, and the desperate survivors were eager to fall to their knees. The gods required supplicants. His masters would do everything in their power to keep their new subjects alive and faithful. They would establish a new order, one that would eventually spread until the whole world sheltered under their dominion. Only those with an eye for resistance had any reason to fear, and they would be dealt with in due course. Valis climbed up onto the sleigh and grabbed the reins. To business. Nathanius and the others had been spotted moving southeast at the end of the battle, around the lake and across the open plain, heading for Hane and the Deep Fell, a massive forest that dominated the long curve of the valley¡¯s southern reach. The plain was scattered with smaller settlements, peopled by enclaves of gatherers, hunters, trappers, and tribes of native barbarians. Valis resolved to search those locations first, just in case his quarries had chosen to stop short and shelter in lieu of making the weeks-long trek to Hane. For them, it would have been the safer option. On the other hand, if they had avoided contact and travelled non-stop since the battle, they would soon arrive at the distant lumber colony. They would have to stop once they got there. Travel through the Deep Fell was difficult under the best of conditions. It was impossible during the night. If nothing else, he would catch up to them at the end of the line. There was nowhere else for them to run. Nexus flapped back up onto his shoulder. Again, he picked at Valis¡¯s linen wrappings. Valis glared. ¡°Stop that.¡± The animal ruffled its feathers. ¡°¡­¡± Valis gave him a flat look. ¡°You are not just a bird. And yes, I can blame you.¡± Nexus cocked his head. ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Well, control yourself.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Yes, starting now.¡± Valis cracked the reins and the two of them slid out into the night. II. The wagon ground to a halt. The huge draught horses whickered and stomped in their woollen blankets, tossing their heads as they shifted back and forth, trampling the snow. Ellyn put her head up to the little window. The others were asleep, apart from Asterious. He was standing on the bench, peering ahead into the dark. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I can¡¯t see. The horses just stopped.¡± Ellyn looked out ahead. Her eyes picked out a cluster of mounds under the snow. ¡°There¡¯s something out there.¡± Asterious drew his weapons and jumped down from the wagon. Ellyn furrowed her brow. ¡°Where are you going?¡± He turned. ¡°I¡¯m going to check it out. And will you keep your voice down? You¡¯ll wake everybody.¡± Ellyn balked. ¡°You¡¯re going by yourself?¡± Asterious shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s probably nothing.¡± ¡°And if it isn¡¯t?¡± He shot her a grin. ¡°Well, do you want to come?¡± She grumbled. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Well, then¡ª¡± ¡°Fine!¡± ¡°Shh!¡± Ellyn rasped a harsh whisper. ¡°Fine! I¡¯ll go with you. Let me get my coat.¡± The two of them crept forward. Ellyn shivered. The snow came up to her knees. The¡­whatever it was under the snow was only a dozen yards from the wagon, but the slog made it feel like a mile. How many miles had they already covered? There was no way to know. Without the sun, they couldn¡¯t even keep track of the days. The only clue as to the passage of time was the constant ebb and flow of fatigue. It was like the tide rolling in and out, punctuated only by brief pauses to hunt and trap game for food. They¡¯d had nothing to eat but wild rabbit and squirrel for¡­she didn¡¯t even know, but the weight of their journey was like a wrestler dragging her to the ground. Gods, what she wouldn¡¯t give for a carrot. She bit her tongue, remembering Asterious¡¯s warning about the gods. Don¡¯t think about them. Don¡¯t talk about them. She clutched her knife. Asterious was a few paces ahead. He glanced back. ¡°Stay calm.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°You stay calm.¡± ¡°I am calm.¡± She growled. ¡°All I¡¯m saying is, if it¡¯s really nothing, why did the horses stop?¡± Asterious turned his eyes forward. ¡°It¡¯s probably just a dead animal.¡± Ellyn looked ahead. The snow was mounded up in more than a dozen places. ¡°Maybe a lot of dead animals?¡± Asterious nodded absently. ¡°Maybe.¡± They came to the first mound. Ellyn stood a short distance back. Asterious sheathed his swords and brushed away the snow. When he was finished he moved on to a second and then a third before he straightened up. Ellyn waited. ¡°Well?¡± He frowned. ¡°You probably shouldn¡¯t see this.¡± Ellyn raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean?¡± He turned from the pile. ¡°It¡¯s just¡ª¡± ¡°What? Indiscreet? We escaped from a city full of zombies. People were cutting off their heads. I think we¡¯re past worrying about me being squeamish.¡± He stepped aside. ¡°Fair enough.¡± Ellyn stepped forward. They were men, dressed in thick furs that looked like bear skin. From their clothing they were hunters. Their throats had been torn out, their legs and arms shredded with claw marks and bites. Ellyn turned to Asterious. ¡°Wolves?¡± He pursed his lips. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I don¡¯t see any weapons. There are camps of hunter-gatherers all over the valley, but it doesn¡¯t make sense that they would be out here unarmed.¡± Ellyn leaned down to the nearest body. ¡°What else could it be?¡± Asterious paused, thinking. Finally, he shook his head and cast his thoughts aside. ¡°Nothing.¡± Ellyn frowned. Yeah, right. ¡°So, what do we do?¡± ¡°Get the others. We¡¯ll search the bodies and see if we can find their camp. They¡¯ll have supplies.¡± Ellyn grimaced. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s a little gruesome.¡± Asterious began to trudge back to the wagon. ¡°Waste not; want not. If there is anything left, these guys certainly won¡¯t be using it.¡± Ellyn put away her knife. ¡°What about respect for the dead?¡± Asterious turned. ¡°Respect for the dead?¡± She nodded. He came back over. ¡°I didn¡¯t figure you were the type.¡± Ellyn looked down at the bodies. They¡¯d died in a circle, backs to one another. ¡°It just seems so cruel. I mean, what if it was us lying dead here? What if it was you? Would you be okay with someone just looting your corpse?¡± Asterious laughed. ¡°It¡¯s happened before.¡± Ellyn rolled her eyes. He was right about one thing. It didn¡¯t make sense for a group of hunters to be caught out in the wilderness unprepared. She scanned out to the horizon. There were no paw prints, but they might have already been covered by the snow. A dozen men lay dead at her feet. It made didn¡¯t make sense that a group of people who killed animals for a living would be suddenly overpowered by them. Something wasn¡¯t right. A glimmer of light in the distance caught her eye. She turned her head and called to Asterious. ¡°Do you see that?¡± He walked up beside her. ¡°What? Where?¡± She pointed. ¡°There.¡± He stared hard, squinting. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned.¡± Ellyn turned to him. ¡°What is it?¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°It¡¯s Hane. We made it.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Issue #58: Heavenly Host Exiles Issue #58 ¡°Heavenly Host¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright July 17th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. They¡¯d called them heavens. Lon stood on the roof of the hotel, observing the flying fortress overhead. It wasn¡¯t the largest building he¡¯d ever seen. Back in the old country humans and elves had constructed far larger, but in its time, thousands of years ago, it would have been an impressive construct indeed. Or so he presumed. Knowledge of the gods was a taboo. No one really knew why. Schools only taught that the gods were slain in a revolutionary conflict known as the Iiari that consumed the world for more than a century. History recorded almost nothing else. The story of the gods, their power, and their dominion had been all but expunged. Only a handful of scholars knew anything more. Lon was not a scholar. He took a long breath and went back inside. The dominaa was at her desk, poring over a stack of ledgers. It was a cosy office. The carpet was red. The walls were panelled with polished wood and lit with glass oil lamps. There was a fireplace in the corner that warmed the whole room. Nevertheless, she seemed troubled. She looked up. ¡°Still staring at that thing?¡± Lon nodded. ¡°Eventually we¡¯ll have to figure out a way to get up there.¡± She grumbled. ¡°If we don¡¯t starve to death first. Our new overlords are bleeding the hotel dry. Every day they come in, throwing their silver around like it¡¯s worth something. At this rate, our supplies will be gone in two months. We¡¯ll be rich, but we¡¯ll never make it to the dawn.¡± Lon came over to the desk and looked down at the books. He believed her. Working in the kitchen, he¡¯d seen the supplies disappearing first hand. ¡°How bad is it?¡± The dominaa leaned back in her chair. She wasn¡¯t in her evening gown. The days¡¯ business was over and the guests were asleep. She had on a warm, woollen set of black pyjamas. Strangely, Lon found her relaxed look more appealing than her formal wear.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it She answered. ¡°We¡¯ve got about a month¡¯s worth of alcohol left in the basement; cured meat for the same; grain, beans, root vegetables, and firewood for another month after that.¡± Lon frowned. ¡°A month short.¡± The dominaa massaged her scalp. ¡°Forty-five days. Even if we ration the guests will never make it that long. Some of these people gave everything they had to buy a place here. If we can¡¯t hold up our end, they¡¯ll turn on us and then finally each other.¡± She shut the ledger. ¡°What a mess.¡± There was a couch against the wall. Lon went to it and sat down. He lay back, exhausted. When he and his brothers came to the dominaa, she¡¯d made it clear that they would have to work in exchange for her discretion. It was the guests¡¯ job to relax. It was their job¡ªalong with the rest of the staff¡ªto ensure their safety and comfort for the three months that the sun would fail to rise. The shifts were long, the work was hard, and more and more he was realizing that he was no longer a teenager. His joints felt like they were about to come apart. The dominaa looked over. ¡°Tired?¡± He nodded. ¡°Destroyed.¡± She chuckled. ¡°Well, rest up. Your next shift starts in eight hours.¡± He tilted his head up. ¡°Slave driver.¡± She gave him a coy smile. ¡°If that¡¯s what you¡¯re into.¡± Lon laughed. The dominaa came to sit beside him. ¡°Your brothers told me you met General Hightower.¡± Lon nodded. ¡°He seems like a decent man.¡± The dominaa huffed out a laugh. ¡°A decent man with an army at his back.¡± Lon conceded the point. ¡°True, but if I can cultivate a relationship he might be a good source of information. He could be useful when the time comes.¡± The dominaa sat back against the arm of the couch. ¡°And what time is that, exactly?¡± Lon looked up. ¡°When we take them down, of course.¡± The dominaa laughed. ¡°Take them down? What are you talking about?¡± Lon sat up, surprised at her reaction. ¡°Well we can¡¯t just let them¡ª¡± She interrupted. ¡°What? Take over? Look around you. The streets are filled with undead soldiers. They¡¯ve already taken over. Half the city burned to the ground in the battle. The citizens are all dead or scattered into hiding. You won¡¯t even be able to raise an army, let alone stage a rebellion.¡± Lon shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure. Tormar suffered heavy losses during the fight.¡± ¡°And they¡¯re replenishing them every day. The clerics are collecting bodies from all over the city, and there¡¯s a reward for every one the people turn in.¡± Lon nodded grimly. He¡¯d heard the same: three days¡¯ grain for every intact corpse. ¡°Still, it will still take weeks for them to replace their numbers, and the undead are useless without a will to command them. Maybe we can focus on the clerics. Mount some kind of¡­I don¡¯t know, guerrilla campaign.¡± The dominaa gave him a sceptical look. ¡°And the gods?¡± Lon leaned back. ¡°I¡¯m still working on that.¡± The dominaa shot him a sceptical look and went to the side-board. She poured herself a glass of wine. Lon understood why she wasn¡¯t convinced. The blind-deaf ladies were a diplomatic organization. They survived by making friends, and there were some powerful friends kicking around these days. He stood up. ¡°Word around the bar is that the gods are promising food and firewood to anyone who joins their cause.¡± The dominaa kept a straight face. ¡°I¡¯ve heard.¡± Lon frowned. ¡°Are you planning to?¡± She went back to her desk and opened up the ledger. ¡°I haven¡¯t decided yet.¡± Lon went to the door. ¡°Well, let me know when you do.¡± He shut it behind him. Great. II. Morgan looked out over the stockyard. They¡¯d taken over a livery adjacent to the square and converted it into an embalming studio. The clerics were working around the clock to rebuild the army, but progress was slow. They didn¡¯t have access to the tools or the facilities they enjoyed back in Tormar. Preservatives were scarce, and because so many of the dead had perished in the battle and the fire, most of the bodies they recovered were too badly damaged to be mummified. They were using the stockyard to sort and store the corpses. The actual embalming took place inside the shelter of the stables. His captain emerged and stood at attention. Morgan turned and saluted. ¡°Report.¡± The captain saluted back. ¡°Thirty-one, general. Another twenty will be ready by tomorrow.¡± Morgan grumbled. Less than a third of the quota, and dropping by the day. The chancellery had ordered him to produce a hundred soldiers a day to build the ¡°gods¡± new army. It was an ludicrous demand. They¡¯d spent six months assembling the three thousand that made up the first army, and they¡¯d lost more than half during the fighting. To rebuild it in only a few weeks was impossible. He turned back to the yard. ¡°What¡¯s the hold-up this time? Supplies? Salt? Resin?¡± The captain stammered. ¡°No, sir. Madame Calandra insists that the bodies are the cause. The freezing does something to the corpses. When they thaw them out the flesh is uncooperative.¡± Morgan chuckled. ¡°Uncooperative? How contrary can a dead man possibly be?¡± The captain wavered. ¡°I don¡¯t know, sir.¡± Morgan frowned. Calandra was the deacon of the clerics. The chancellery had placed her in charge of all non-military operations. She was a younger woman, a sorcerer of great skill. She knew her craft. Six months earlier, she was the one who suggested the undead army to the chancellery in the first place. She was personable enough, but despite their productive rapport, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that beneath her calm and professional exterior lurked the tangled tunnels of a deeply fractured mind. He thumped the captain on the shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, captain. Come with me. We¡¯ll see if we can¡¯t attend to the deacon¡¯s needs.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #59: Outpost Exiles Issue #59 ¡°Outpost¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright July 18th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The wall was taller than the last time. Asterious looked up. Hane was only a fort on a hill back then. Not much more than a holdfast at the edge of the woods. It didn¡¯t even have a name. The name it had apparently developed was an interesting historical puzzle. The word¡ªwhich was properly pronounced ha-ne¡ªcame from the language of the native tribes. There wasn¡¯t a true translation for it in human or elvish. The closest they could get was ¡°outpost,¡± but the meaning for the natives was more complex and didn¡¯t imply a military purpose. It referred to an isolated settlement far from its tribe, vulnerable in its safety and lonely in its community. The term was appropriate. The last time Asterious visited there were just as many natives living at the post as immigrants, living and trading with each other. The immigrants supplied fur and tools; the natives: jewellery, and medicine. The natives called the settlement ¡°hane la telendi.¡± Outpost of the Others. Asterious certainly didn¡¯t see any tribesmen now. The fort had grown into a village. A huge wall of earthworks and logs had been constructed around it. He could see the hill rising up behind the palisade, with an enormous meeting hall at its peak. Nathanius drove the wagon up to the gate. Judging by the wear and weather on the thick fortifications, the wall had been in place for quite some time; and by the mounding of the snow, the gate hadn¡¯t been opened in weeks. Asterious trained his eyes up to the top. ¡°It¡¯s bigger than I remember.¡± Azarelle stood beside him. ¡°You¡¯ve been here before?¡± He nodded absently. ¡°A long time ago.¡± Azarelle raised an eyebrow. She¡¯d been unconscious during his explanation of his curse. He¡¯d filled her in, but despite her experiences with Valis and the arrival of the gods, she remained sceptical. Ellyn spoke from the wagon¡¯s bench. She was holding the reins, scanning the area. ¡°It¡¯s quiet. I don¡¯t see any people. Do you remember anything else?¡± Asterious shook his head.Stolen story; please report. ¡°Nothing useful. This place wasn¡¯t much more than a camp the last time I was here. The treeline used to be right next to it. I guess they cut down some of the forest to build the city.¡± He pointed. ¡°See that depression in the snow? It¡¯s a road. I bet it leads right to the logging camps.¡± She looked. ¡°Maybe there are people over there?¡± Nathanius stepped forward and shook his head. ¡°It would take us all day to follow that road, and if we didn¡¯t find anyone we would just have to come back. We can get someone¡¯s attention here.¡± He pounded his fist on the gate and shouted at the top of his lungs. ¡°Hey!¡± There was no answer. He pounded again. ¡°Hey! Out here!¡± Minutes passed. Ellyn scrunched up her cheek. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s no one home?¡± Nathanius turned and gave her a flat look. ¡°The whole town?¡± She threw out her arms. ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Asterious stepped up to the gate and thumped his palm against the wood. The logs had to be at least ten inches thick. ¡°I wonder why there aren¡¯t any guards.¡± Polly looked around. ¡°They¡¯re locked down. Maybe they¡¯re afraid.¡± Ellyn gave her a sceptical look. ¡°Who would they be afraid of way out here?¡± Asterious turned from the gate. ¡°Who indeed?¡± Another ten minutes passed before a voice called out above them. ¡°Who¡¯s there!¡± Nathanius held his arms out. ¡°Travellers from Selapak! We seek shelter! We bring news from the city! Reagents for magic! And medical supplies!¡± The man peered down from the battlement, torch held high over his head. Asterious couldn¡¯t make out his face. He pointed at the horses. ¡°You travelled with these animals?¡± Nathanius glanced back at them. Asterious shrugged. Nathanius turned back to the gate captain. ¡°Yes!¡± The man straightened up. ¡°The whole journey?¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°Yes, and we¡¯ve travelled a long way. Is there someone we can talk to? Perhaps we can come to an arrangement?¡± The man disappeared. Ellyn cursed. Nathanius waved her off. ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± A few moments later the gate shook, discharging a layer of thickly settled snow. With a groan, the huge frame slowly began to shift. Ellyn raised an eyebrow. ¡°How did you know?¡± Nathanius turned. ¡°We¡¯re not a threat. Our group is too small to cause trouble. Plus, we made a good offer. They¡¯d be fools not to listen.¡± The gate yawned open. A cluster of torches and spears thrust themselves into the gap. A dozen men stood behind them, their faces tight with suspicion and fear. Their eyes darted out into the shadows. Azarelle frowned. ¡°Not much of a welcome.¡± Asterious shook his head. ¡°No. Nathanius is right. We¡¯re not a threat. This is for someone else.¡± He turned back out to the night. ¡°Something¡¯s not right.¡± II. Polly looked around as the guards escorted them through the darkened streets. There wasn¡¯t a living soul in sight. They¡¯d insisted all of them sit in plain sight. Asterious and Ellyn were sitting on the driver¡¯s bench. She and the others were on the roof with the cargo. She leaned forward and whispered to Asterious. ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but they¡¯re terrified of something.¡± Polly sat back. Nathanius was beside her. ¡°Any ideas?¡± He had his eyes on the guard captain. The man rode a horse ahead of the wagon. His eyes flicked to every corner of the street. His men clustered behind him, scanning every alley and rooftop as though death itself were about to come swooping down from the sky. None of them said a word. Nathanius shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing.¡± Asterious pointed to the buildings. ¡°There aren¡¯t any paintings.¡± Polly furrowed her brow. ¡°Paintings?¡± Asterious nodded. ¡°The natives paint their homes. Blue, red, orange, green. It¡¯s quite beautiful. The last time I was here there were natives. I don¡¯t see any sign of them.¡± Ellyn hunched forward. ¡°Who cares about paintings. Why did they ask about our horses?¡± Nathanius shook his head again. ¡°I have no idea.¡± There was a shout as a cat emerged from an alley ahead of the group. The guard captain called a halt and his men readied their weapons, eyeing the ragged animal as it made its way lazily across the street and disappeared into an alley on the other side. Polly chuckled. ¡°A lot of trouble for a cat.¡± Nathanius pondered. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s a sickness.¡± Polly¡¯s face fell. ¡°Plague?¡± Nathanius looked around. ¡°It would explain why there aren¡¯t any people. These buildings are all empty.¡± Polly shook her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t see any graves or pyres.¡± ¡°They could be under the snow.¡± Ellyn growled. ¡°I swear, if you all dragged me out here just to die of some pestilence, I¡¯m going to haunt you for the rest of your lives.¡± Nathanius chuckled. The procession resumed. Azarelle shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a plague. There would be marked homes. Doorframes.¡± The procession resumed. She caught a glimpse of light up ahead. The ground began to slope, climbing the hill to the hall at the centre of the city. She leaned forward to Azarelle. ¡°But if it isn¡¯t a plague, why would they be afraid of the animals?¡± The wagon turned a corner and broke into the light. The central hall loomed, a massive structure of wooden beams, logs, and huge stone slates. The doors and windows on the ground floor were barricaded shut. A dozen men stood guard outside the main entrance, armed with spears, axes, and crossbows, while still more could be seen perched in the windows of the upper floors. Azarelle¡¯s mouth opened up in horror. ¡°Oh my g¡ª¡± Asterious interrupted her. ¡°Don¡¯t say it.¡± They all looked up. A dozen corpses hung in the air, tied around their necks by ropes hanging down from the roof. They were bloodied: shot, cut, and beaten. On their heads were crowns of woven branches. Their cloaks were made from fur and hide, embroidered with patterns of leaves. Nathanius frowned. ¡°Well, that explains it.¡± Ellyn leaned forward. ¡°What is it? Who are they?¡± Asterious lowered his voice. ¡°Druids¡­¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #60: Tooth and Nail Exiles Issue #60 ¡°Tooth and Nail¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright July 18th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. The fire was burning low. Not enough firewood. It was barely large enough for light. Nevertheless, the building was muggy to the point of choking. Hundreds of people were crammed into the space, and according to the mayor of the village, almost a thousand more were stuffed like sardines into the buildings that surrounded the square, none of them more than fifty yards from the broad meeting hall door. Nathanius scanned the room. The people were starving. He could see it in their eyes and the way they sat and stood. Slumped, shadowy figures filled every corner of the dim room, leaning against the walls and lying on the floor. Only the sentries kept their feet, gripping their weapons weakly. The mayor stood at the head of the table. Looking down on the group. His name was Edmund Giant. It was a ludicrous name. Nathanius was sure it was an affectation, but in fairness the man was certainly the largest human he¡¯d ever seen. He had to be seven feet tall. The mayor leaned forward. ¡°You can¡¯t stay.¡± Hell of an opening statement. Nathanius kept a straight face. He didn¡¯t want to come across as disrespectful; nor did he wish to provoke a man clearly in the grip of a crisis. Plus, he was huge. Nathanius leaned forward in return. ¡°What¡¯s happening here?¡± The mayor frowned. ¡°Trouble with the locals.¡± Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°Territorial dispute?¡± The mayor smiled. ¡°How¡¯d you guess?¡± Nathanius shrugged. ¡°Call it a hunch.¡± The mayor grumbled. ¡°Hane bears the long night better than most. It¡¯s a company town, but it still took us more than a month to recover. I ended up in charge. My predecessor died hunting during the night. He had a better relationship with the circle than I do.¡± Ellyn raised her hand. ¡°The circle?¡± The mayor¡¯s face darkened. He growled out his next words. ¡°Selecahri.¡± Asterious translated. ¡°Circled Pines.¡± The mayor nodded. ¡°They¡¯re an enclave of druids that live deep in the woods. There are a few immigrants among them but for the most part they draw their numbers from the natives.¡± Asterious raised his hand. ¡°What tribes?¡± The mayor turned. ¡°Does it matter?¡± Asterious crossed his arms. ¡°It might.¡± The mayor answered. ¡°Greytooth, Longclaw, a few Stonebirds.¡± ¡°And none of them live here?¡± The mayor shook his head. ¡°Not for a long time. There¡¯s a new faction growing in the circle. They¡¯ve been discouraging natives from dealing with us.¡± Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°Discouraging?¡± The mayor nodded. ¡°Strongly discouraging. It was a fringe movement at first, but after only a few years the entire native population had disappeared into the trees.¡± Polly spoke up. ¡°So what¡¯s their problem?¡± The mayor began to pace. ¡°The city is growing. The treeline is retreating. Same old story. But what choice do we have? The people need homes and firewood. They¡¯re innocent.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Ellyn chuckled. ¡°They¡¯re exiles. How innocent can they be?¡± Nathanius¡¯s breath caught in his throat and he coughed. The mayor¡¯s massive palm struck the table with a bang that shook the room. He pointed a thick finger at Ellyn. ¡°Watch your muddled tone, lady. Most of the people here are second and third generation. They¡¯ve never harmed a soul in their lives. I don¡¯t know what it was like for you up in Selapak, but around here we don¡¯t assume the people around us are murderers and thieves.¡± Ellyn looked up at him with a cold glare. ¡°I doubt the corpses hanging from your roof would agree. And don¡¯t make fun of my voice.¡± The mayor gritted his teeth. ¡°The bodies aren¡¯t our fault. We were defending ourselves.¡± Nathanius cut in. ¡°When did the violence start?¡± The mayor sat down. ¡°After nightfall. The people were just getting settled in. We weren¡¯t ready for a conflict. The engagements we¡¯d experienced were slight: damage to equipment, minor raids and skirmishes, nothing more dangerous than the bandits and slavers we deal with every season. We figured as long as we stayed in town the circle would leave us alone. We had no idea the situation had grown so¡­dire.¡± ¡°So what happened?¡± The mayor sat back. The chair under him creaked. ¡°For the first few nights no one even knew it was happening. I started to get reports about people going missing. As the weeks progressed the situation only got worse. Bodies in the streets. Women. Children. Whole families slain in their beds, torn to pieces by animals. I ordered all the citizens to gather near the city centre. Since then we¡¯ve captured and killed more than a dozen infiltrators.¡± Ellyn interjected. ¡°How do you know it wasn¡¯t actually animals?¡± The mayor turned to her with flat scepticism. ¡°We don¡¯t have anything that large in the city, and the gate has been shut since well-before the night.¡± He turned back to Nathanius. ¡°Frankly, I¡¯m amazed the five of you managed to make it to the gate.¡± Asterious quipped. ¡°Just lucky I guess.¡± Polly raised her hand. ¡°And you¡¯re going to make us go back out there?¡± The mayor frowned. ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice. The druids have been raiding our supplies. Even with our decreased numbers it¡¯s unlikely we¡¯ll have enough food and firewood to get through the night. We¡¯re happy to trade spare tools and blankets, but we need every weapon we have, and every ounce of food, and we can¡¯t afford to take in refugees.¡± Nathanius stood up. There was no point continuing this here. He turned to Azarelle. ¡°See what they have.¡± The mayor waved a man over from the wall. ¡°My quartermaster will show you our supplies.¡± Ellyn furrowed her brow. ¡°Wait, that¡¯s it? You¡¯re just going to¡ª¡± Nathanius snapped. ¡°Hey! Give it a rest.¡± Ellyn shut her mouth, furious. Nathanius turned to the mayor. ¡°Mister Mayor, we¡¯ve come a long way. May I request that we be allowed to stay one night? We have our own food. We¡¯ll leave as soon as the animals are rested.¡± The mayor thought about it for a long moment. In the end he nodded. ¡°Very well. One night.¡± II. The meeting broke up. Azarelle and Nathanius went with the quartermaster to examine their stores. Polly went to the fire with Ellynn. Asterious went to the mayor. He knew the man¡¯s type. He was a working man in charge of a working town. A couple thousand people under his wing. He was doing his best. In another time and place he could probably handle a crisis like this one. Just¡­muddle through. He wasn¡¯t prepared for what was coming. Iiari. The mayor shook his head as Asterious approached. ¡°It won¡¯t do any good to talk. The matter is settled.¡± Asterious leaned against the wall. ¡°Relax. I¡¯m not here to beg.¡± The mayor nodded slowly. ¡°Then what do you want?¡± Asterious got out a knife. The mayor reached for a hand axe on his hip. Asterious put his hands up, holding the knife with his ring and pinkie fingers. ¡°I¡¯m not here to cause trouble either.¡± The mayor took his hand away. Asterious cleaned his fingernails with the point of the blade. ¡°I was curious. Did you ever try negotiating?¡± The mayor laughed. ¡°Of course I did. They weren¡¯t interested. Letting the fact that they hate us, we don¡¯t have anything they want! The new faction doesn¡¯t sully itself with ¡®civilized¡¯ wares.¡± Asterious shrugged. ¡°They used to. There used to be a lot of trade here.¡± The mayor looked up at him with a suspicious glare. ¡°And how are you supposed to know that?¡± Asterious grinned and put his knife away. ¡°I get around. So what happened? The natives have always been self-sufficient. It never stopped them trading before. Trade makes peace. What changed?¡± The mayor growled. ¡°A new chieftain: Setarkh. I don¡¯t know his history. I only know that the old leadership of the circle is concerned that if they oppose him he¡¯ll split the order.¡± Asterious tut-tutted in his cheek. ¡°Sounds messy.¡± The mayor answered. ¡°It is.¡± ¡°It sounds like you need a mediator.¡± The mayor chuckled. ¡°Got someone in mind?¡± Asterious shrugged his arms. ¡°We don¡¯t have anything else to do, and it¡¯s a fair chance we¡¯re going to run into the circle anyway. We could put in a word for you...¡± He shot the mayor a cool look. ¡°¡­Maybe.¡± The mayor¡¯s face darkened. ¡°In exchange for what?¡± ¡°Let Azarelle and Ellyn stay here in the city. The rest of us will take care of ourselves.¡± ¡°And they can¡¯t?¡± ¡°Of course they can, but take it from me: you¡¯re going to need Azarelle. There¡¯s a storm coming, Mayor Edmund Giant. Selapak is conquered. Tormar will be coming south and soon, and the old gods are with them.¡± The man shook his head. ¡°Impossible.¡± Asterious smiled, looking at the floor. ¡°I don¡¯t have time to convince you. You¡¯ll see for yourself soon enough¡­and a good sorcerer is hard to find.¡± The mayor frowned. ¡°And the other?¡± Asterious blew out a breath. ¡°She¡¯s a master musician, and you could use a morale boost around here.¡± The mayor grumbled. ¡°She¡¯s got a smart mouth.¡± Asterious grinned. ¡°And a lovely singing voice, and while we¡¯re on the subject, you should apologize for that cheap shot back at the table. She¡¯s a good woman and she had it rough before they even put her in the boat.¡± The mayor stood and paused, grinding his beard between his thumb and forefinger. ¡°I¡¯ll consider it.¡± ¡°The deal or the apology?¡± ¡°Both.¡± Asterious nodded. ¡°Talk to Nathanius. He runs the show. And don¡¯t wait too long. Trust me, with Tormar on the horizon there¡¯ll be a lot of work to do when we come back.¡± The mayor chuckled. ¡°You mean if you come back.¡± Asterious grinned. ¡°I always come back.¡± III. Polly tightened her coat. They¡¯d been on the road for two hours, marching into the dark towards the lumber camp and the forest¡¯s edge. So far there was no sign of the druids. The snow crunched under her feet. The mayor had outfitted each of them with a day¡¯s worth of food and a pair of snow shoes, just enough to get them to the woods. After that they were on their own. She puffed out a breath. It froze in the air. ¡°I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re doing this.¡± She paused. ¡°Actually, I take that back. I can. In fact, it seems like all we do is crazy crap.¡± Asterious laughed. ¡°It¡¯s our best chance. I mean, the only alternative was getting kicked out.¡± He called ahead to Nathanius. ¡°And I don¡¯t think I got enough credit for my negotiating skills!¡± Nathanius barked out a chuckle. ¡°Hah! What skills?¡± ¡°He let two of us stay, didn¡¯t he? And he gave us packs and enough food to get us to the woods.¡± Polly raised a finger. ¡°Where we will be eaten by druids.¡± Asterious shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s worse ways to go.¡± ¡°And what are those?¡± He chuckled. ¡°Trust me, I¡¯ve died more ways than you¡¯ve had hot dinners. Animal attack is far from the worst.¡± Polly growled and stared out ahead. Frankly, she wasn¡¯t thrilled about any kind of dying. At least Azarelle was safe back in town. The dim outline of the logging camp was beginning to come into view. The forest rose up behind it, and endless wall of trees and shadows. She didn¡¯t see any movement. ¡°Do we at least have a plan?¡± Asterious thumbed over his shoulder at Nathanius. ¡°He¡¯s the brains of the outfit.¡± Nathanius spent a few yards mulling it over. ¡°Well, from what you told me there¡¯s political dissent in the circle. Maybe we can pit the factions against each other or¡­I don¡¯t know, broker some kind of a compromise between the villagers and the druids. But first we have to get them to trust us.¡± Polly frowned. ¡°That¡¯s not going to be easy. You saw the bodies in the square. You think they¡¯ll believe us if we tell them we aren¡¯t from the village?¡± Nathanius shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe. They won¡¯t have seen us before. We¡¯ll have to be careful when they show up. No sudden moves and no weapons.¡± Polly coughed. ¡°No weapons? What if they decide to kill us?¡± Asterious answered succinctly. ¡°Then we die.¡± Polly let out a harrumph. ¡°Well, that¡¯s just great.¡± Nathanius pointed out ahead. ¡°We¡¯ll set up in the logging camp and wait for them to come for us. We¡¯ll just have to hope we can get a word in edgewise before they tear us apart.¡± Asterious smiled. ¡°Sounds like fun.¡± Polly grumbled. ¡°Easy for you to say.¡± They kept walking. Polly kept a hand on her weapon. She had a spare in her boot. Negotiations were great and all, but bitter experience had taught her long ago that talk was cheap and lady luck didn¡¯t always favour the bold. In the end, it was the prepared that came out on top. If things went sour, she wasn¡¯t going down without a fight. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #61: Partisan Politics Exiles Issue #60 ¡°Partisan Politics¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright July 18th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. ¡°What exactly do you mean by that?¡± Lon sat back in his chair. ¡°Just that. I¡¯m not sure she¡¯s with us.¡± He and his brothers didn¡¯t get many chances to meet in private. The dominaa had them on opposite shifts, and he was beginning to think this was the reason. She didn¡¯t want them talking. It was Rias that had asked the question. Ordinarily he would have been working the kitchen with Wess, prepping ingredients for breakfast. Tonight, by some miracle of social engineering that Wess had managed to contrive, the two of them had the evening off. They¡¯d decided to meet in one of the sub-basements. The hotel sported an impressive array of root cellars and underground storerooms. As a result of Tormar¡¯s arrival and the subsequent drain on supplies, the ones at the back were already empty. Wess threw up his hands. ¡°Well, that¡¯s just great. Here we are, the five us, in a basement, trying to stage a revolution! And the woman who holds our lives in her hands might not be on our side?¡± Lon understood his frustration. Wess had been having more trouble than the others since they¡¯d moved into the hotel. He¡¯d always been impetuous. Lon suspected his brother didn¡¯t imagine staying more than a few days before they launched some kind of counterattack. As the weeks wore on, his patience was slowly wearing thin. Lon put out a hand to steady him. ¡°It¡¯s not so strange. The ladies are their own organization. Is anyone surprised that the dominaa would act in her own interest?¡± Kiel stood with his arms crossed. He raised a pointed finger. ¡°What are her interests, exactly?¡± Lon answered. ¡°She didn¡¯t make it clear, but she¡¯s concerned about the rate we¡¯re going through supplies. She¡¯s prioritizing the guests.¡± Alto spoke from the wall. ¡°Tormar has promised food and supplies. It would be a strong motivator.¡± Lon nodded. ¡°And there¡¯s no way their help won¡¯t come with strings attached, especially with the gods involved. Any action we take could damage her position.¡± Wess stood up.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°So there are risks. Who cares? Brothers! We planned for this the moment we heard of the invasion! There are weapons all over the city. If the battle was lost, we would re-gather our forces and stage a coup, before they got a chance to recover, and the clock is ticking! Our people are out there waiting for us to make a move!¡± Lon stood up across from him. ¡°That was before the damned gods got involved! We can¡¯t fight that kind of power!¡± ¡°How do you know!?¡± Rias stepped forward ¡°Quiet!¡± They fell silent. ¡°You¡¯re both right. We don¡¯t know how to fight the gods.¡± Lon let out a breath. ¡°Thank you.¡± Rias shook his head. ¡°But Wess has a point. The longer we delay, the stronger their position will become. We have to get moving.¡± Lon started to object. Rias put out a hand to silence him. ¡°Preliminary steps. We¡¯ll reach out. Find our people in the city, gather weapons and supplies, and see where we stand. The priority is information. We¡¯ll take it slow. Assess the state of Tormar¡¯s forces: their numbers, their positions, and their weaknesses.¡± Lon ran a hand through his hair. ¡°And the gods?¡± Rias shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to hope something develops.¡± II. Morgan took a step back. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± Calandra looked up from the table. She was a woman of small stature, human, with blonde hair that she cut very short. Her cheekbones were sharp, her limbs were slight, and her eyes were narrow. From a distance Morgan would have guessed she was an elf, but she lacked the ears and the nose. At the moment she was hunched over a table strewn mortar bowls, pestles, jugs, and a complex assembly of alchemical equipment made from copper and twisted glass. She raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Morgan was flabbergasted. ¡°You want to use live subjects?¡± Calandra nodded absently. ¡°I did. The frozen bodies are too fragile. Once they¡¯re thawed only one in ten survives the embalming process. The city is filled with destitute survivors. We can¡¯t feed them anyway or keep them warm. We might as well use them before they starve to death and freeze.¡± Morgan¡¯s stomach turned. There were still thousands of people alive in the city, spread across six districts. The deacon was already prepared to write them off. ¡°We came here because we were worried about Selpak. We came because the Jaspers had to be removed. It¡¯s done. There¡¯s no danger anymore. Why do we need this army so quickly?¡± Calandra shrugged. ¡°Orders from above. I don¡¯t ask questions.¡± Morgan started to pace. Frustration simmered in his chest. ¡°I thought the gods needed the people.¡± Calandra slid her chair back and turned. ¡°I guess they need an army more. I¡¯ve already been given orders to investigate a carrier.¡± Morgan squinted. ¡°What do you mean: a carrier?¡± Calandra turned back to her table. ¡°The chancellery is concerned that sending patrols out to collect prospective soldiers will incite resistance.¡± Morgan grumbled. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine why.¡± She went on. ¡°So, they¡¯ve asked me to investigate some other way to neutralize the population, something we can control so that we can anticipate the numbers we¡¯ll have to convert. I was thinking poison, but it might interact with the embalming chemicals, so for the last few days I¡¯ve focused on finding some kind of disease: something communicable but manageable, and innocuous enough to avoid widespread suspicion.¡± Morgan couldn¡¯t tell if he wanted to laugh or wretch on the floor. The bizarre depravity of it all was almost too much to take seriously. ¡°I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re discussing this.¡± Calandra shrugged. ¡°Well, believe it.¡± Morgan shook his head slowly. Calandra kept her eyes on her work, measuring some kind of liquid into shallow dishes. She spoke aside to him as though she were assembling a model or sorting mail. It was nothing to her. Morgan left. This was insane. He¡¯d conquered a dozen cities and countries, and you didn¡¯t maintain control by exterminating the locals! He would talk to the chancellery. They were fanatics but perhaps they would listen to reason. No army was worth the kind of backlash that an action like this would call down¡­or rather call up. There would be a huge partisan response. It was inevitable. Word would get out. Someone would see something or say something, and before long there would be sabotage, riots, and assassinations. And on the continent¡­all those roads led to chaos and death. He¡¯d been down this road. Everything they had risked their lives for would bleed away until all that was left was darkness and chaos. He would have to make them see. It was their only hope. III. The fire popped. Polly damn-near shot out of her shoes. Nathanius leaned forward. ¡°It¡¯s alright. There¡¯s no one here.¡± She groaned and sat up. ¡°Yet.¡± Nathanius poked at the fire. Asterious was still fast asleep. He had no idea how the man did it. It was freezing outside. They¡¯d set up open. There were shelters in the camp but they didn¡¯t want to give the circle a chance to kill them without seeing them first. It had taken them an hour and a half to clear a space in the snow and start a fire. The citizens of Hane had taken almost everything with them when they pulled out, and it seemed the druids had burned or collected everything they left behind. All that remained were a few earthen huts. They¡¯d set up next to the largest to cut the wind. The firewood they¡¯d gathered was from the edge of the forest, only a few dozen yards away. Nathanius pushed himself tight against the wall and pulled up his blanket. If the druids didn¡¯t show up soon, it wouldn¡¯t matter. They would have no choice but to move into the huts. Polly grabbed her blanket, walked over, and sat down next to him. She shuffled under his blanket and threw her own over the top. She gave him a hard look. ¡°Don¡¯t get any ideas. It¡¯s freezing out here.¡± He nodded. ¡°No problem.¡± She grabbed his arm and pulled it around her shoulder. The fire crackled. Polly chuckled. ¡°You know. I swore I would never let myself get into a position like this again.¡± Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°Huddled under a blanket with a stranger?¡± She gave him a flat look. ¡°No. I mean being stuck outside during the night. I was all set up to settle in with the Jaspers and then you had to come along.¡± ¡°Hey, I didn¡¯t start the invasion, and it was Valis who roped you in.¡± She grumbled. ¡°Still, I never seem to be able to catch a break.¡± Nathanius chuckled. ¡°Story of my life.¡± Polly frowned. ¡°Mine too.¡± She hunkered down. ¡°Well, as long as we¡¯re stuck here. What are you in for?¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #62: Business as Usual Exiles Issue #62 ¡°Business as Usual¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright September 4th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Fest leaned back in his chair. His cup hit the table with a heavy, pewter clank. The raucous throng erupted in cheers. A server jumped up on the table. ¡°We have a winner!¡± Nathanius smiled, regarding the riotous scene with cool calm as he nursed a cup of brandy. It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t understand what they were carrying on about, nor that he didn¡¯t appreciate the sentiment; he¡¯d just never been one for wild parties. He was a man of quiet appreciation. It was better¡ªin his mind¡ªto nurture expensive taste. Quality over quantity. Substance over volume. He wasn¡¯t sure when he¡¯d acquired the preference, but he suspected it was early on. His father used to work with the insiders of the underworld, and while he was never highly ranked, his business often brought them into contact with wealthy men and women. As a child, Nathanius was brought along for the ride. His father¡¯s superiors drank expensive booze, ate luxurious food, kept professional company for pleasure, and wore silken clothes that flowed like water. Nathanius always wanted a piece of that. So had his father. This was the closest either of them had ever come. Business was good. The smugglers were bringing a fortune into Sylarea: gemstones and gold from the mountains and the hills, grain from the west prairies, fish and molluscs from the southern shoals; even spices from the distant jungles to the south and west were making their way up the trade lanes and into the surreptitious holds of their free-flagged ships. The pirates knew their business. The rich markets of Gelande were pouring into the kingdom of the elves, and he and Fest were making more money than they could spend. Even their modest cut was more than enough to fill their swelling purses to the seams. Nathanius smiled. Pretty soon his purse would be too small. He¡¯d have to get a coffer. He¡¯d never had a coffer before, but in a strange way the money wasn¡¯t the point. It felt good to be successful. He could make things happen. He knew people and people knew him. He was no longer an unknown, and he didn¡¯t have to feel like just another small-time crook. Fest came over, grinning. ¡°You should join the party.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Nathanius shook his head. ¡°No, thanks. It¡¯s not really my area.¡± Fest clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Come on. Don¡¯t be pretentious. These are your people.¡± Nathanius sipped his brandy. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± Fest pointed to a man across the room. ¡°That¡¯s the captain of the Bawdy Gull. He came in this morning with a load of desert ambergris. Twenty-five tons.¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°I know.¡± Fest did some math in his head, squinting up at the ceiling. ¡°It¡¯s worth twelve thousand cords in Gelande? Here in Sylarea it¡¯s probably¡­thirty-thousand stersi?¡± Nathanius took another sip of his drink. ¡°Sounds about right.¡± Fest leaned in expectantly. ¡°Well, do you think he didn¡¯t take a risk? Do you think he doesn¡¯t deserve your respect?¡± ¡°I do respect him.¡± Fest frowned. ¡°You don¡¯t look it. Come on. Go and say hello. Get to know these people. It¡¯s no good keeping to yourself.¡± Nathanius took a breath and a second look out the room. It was filled to bursting with shouting men and women still crusted with salt from the sea. Laughter roared until the music was drowned out, and drink and spittle sprayed into the air like spume over a windward rail. He finished his drink and set the cup aside. ¡°I have to go over the books. Lot of people to pay tomorrow.¡± Fest groaned. ¡°Then do it tomorrow!¡± He moved in to pull him into the crowd. Nathanius pulled back. ¡°It should be done tonight.¡± There was a long pause. Fest stepped back. ¡°All business, huh.¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°Something like that.¡± Fest shrugged. ¡°Have it your way.¡± Nathanius bowed slightly. ¡°Thank you.¡± Fest finished his drink and turned back to the party. ¡°Just be careful. You know what they call a leader with no one to lead?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Just a guy taking a walk.¡± Fest strode back into the crowd, shouting for ale. His small form disappeared into the throng. Nathanius took a final look at the captain across the room. He was a tall man with a short, brown beard. His moustache had been carefully sculpted into a pair of tightly waxed coils. A pair of barmaids stood on either side of him, feigning coquettish interest as they emptied his purse and filled his gullet with wine. Nathanius puffed out a quiet, disdainful breath. Fest was right. He didn¡¯t respect him, but the captain didn¡¯t require his respect. Like everyone else in the room, he was in it for the money. That was all he was going to get. Nathanius left the bar and returned to his apartment down the street. He sat at his desk. There was a hidden drawer under the centre surface. He opened it and pulled out a brown leather booklet. Like any organized criminal, he rarely wrote anything down, but as so many had realized before him, it was virtually impossible to avoid pen and ink entirely. The folio contained a list of aliases. Nathanius had memorized the true identities. He used the book as a primer to keep his figures straight. Once, in his early teenage years, one of his father¡¯s better-connected friends had waxed lyrical over how hard it was too keep their network paid up. By the time he was finished his tirade, Nathanius¡¯s younger self had been utterly convinced that every government official in Gelande was somehow on the take. He¡¯d been pleasantly surprised to find that the bureaucracy of Sylarea was equally susceptible to the promise of a little extra coin. He had them organized by city. Llay was easy. It was a small town and he knew everyone involved. Getting cargo ashore was a simple matter. It was getting the goods overland that necessitated all the song and dance. There were highway patrols to consider. They had to be paid. The guard posts had to be paid. And because not every post along direct routes were open for business¡ªas it were¡ªevery tavern keep and hotel manager along the many circuitous routes the shipments took across the country earned a modest share to keep them from dropping a note to the local tax collector for a reward. Then the goods reached their destination. Once they arrived there were tax men, customs officers, city guards, and local officials; not to mention regional gangs of thugs and petty criminals, any one of whom were capable of bringing down the whole enterprise if they didn¡¯t get their end. Nathanius wasn¡¯t intimidated by the complexity. It was a simple question of organization. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny bronze key. Unlocking the deep second drawer of the desk, he withdrew a sturdy wooden box and a handful of tiny black cloth bags. Consulting the anonymized ledger, he began to deposit a carefully counted stack of coins into each. A.k.a. Blackbird ~ one percent ~ Mydyle Post Box 6 A.k.a. Ribbons ~ ten stersi ~ Mydyle Inn A.k.a. Hoofbeat ~ one-half percent ~ Hyl Crossroads There were ten more entries after those. They¡¯d stopped using independent traders early on. They couldn¡¯t keep the payoff deliveries straight along the route. Too many mistakes. Too many close calls. Too many follow-ups to pay people for delays and for their trouble. All the wagon men were on the payroll now. The ambergris was headed all the way to the eastern border to a town called Sephyl, where a local perfume house would take delivery and send the wagon back with the final payment in a locked, warded, iron-bound chest. It would come all the way back to Llay, where he and Fest would be waiting with the key and the dispelling incantation to unseal it. When the bags were filled Nathanius locked the money back up and stashed the ledger. He put the payoffs into his pack. He would deliver them to the driver himself in the morning. The shipment would go out before dawn. He apologized inwardly to Fest. Schmoozing pirates and wild parties might be fine for some, but at least one person needed to keep their head and mind the store. Nathanius snuffed out his lamp and went to bed. As it turned out, dawn was to arrive sooner than he thought. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #63: The Cost of Doing Business Exiles Issue #63 ¡°The Cost of Doing Business¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright September 5th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. In the course of his life, if there were one thing Nathanius had learned, it was that bad news inevitably arrived in the middle of the night. Someone was pounding on the door. Nathanius sat up quietly and rolled out of bed. He stumbled to his desk and started his lamp. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± A voice answered. ¡°Fest wants to see you. We¡¯ve got a problem.¡± Nathanius rubbed his eyes. ¡°Be with you in a minute.¡± He went to his dresser and put on his trousers and a coat. He unlocked the door and opened it. The man outside was one of Fest¡¯s bodyguards. He had blood on his hands. Nathanius looked up at his face. ¡°What happened?¡± The man shook his head. ¡°Fest just said to get you.¡± Nathanius grumbled and grabbed his boots. ¡°But you know?¡± The man nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡± They went out. The man led him along the darkened streets towards the wharf. Llay was a small town. Like sand on the dunes, the buildings descended a gentle grade down to the water. The distance wasn¡¯t far. Nathanius could hear the night tide rolling in. The moon was bright in the sky, bathing the sloping alleys in silver light.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. They found Fest at the end of the dock, standing beside the Bawdy Gull. A dozen pirates surrounded him in a loose crowd. They were utterly silent. A second ship lay opposite the gull on the other side of the pier. It hadn¡¯t been there during the day. An imperial cutter. The lights aboard were dark. Nathanius turned to Fest. ¡°What happened?¡± His friend frowned and thumbed over his shoulder at the cutter. ¡°Better get aboard.¡± Nathanius followed him up. The deck was awash with blood. Fest led him down into the hold. There were six bodies piled in the middle of the floor. They wore the uniforms of imperial sailors. Two had been stabbed: one through the back and one through the middle of his chest. The others had been cut across their bellies. Their entrails had spilled; then their throats had been cut. Fest spoke. ¡°They pulled in around midnight. A couple of the boys were on their way back to the ship. One of the soldiers overheard them talking.¡± Nathanius scanned the room. ¡°There aren¡¯t enough of them. This ship is large enough for a dozen more at least.¡± Fest nodded. ¡°As far as we can tell they¡¯re still out in town, probably checking in with the customs office or visiting the pubs, but you can bet they won¡¯t all be gone long. We need to get these bodies out of here.¡± Nathanius blurted out a laugh. ¡°And what about the blood on the deck? Going to clean that up too?¡± He paused to stare, running a hand through his hair. ¡°We can¡¯t just hide the bodies. What a disaster. Didn¡¯t anyone think to pay them off?¡± One of the pirates spoke. ¡°No chance, boss. We didn¡¯t even know they heard us until they had their swords out. A few of us tried to cool it out but one of them started legging it up the dock. We tried to stop him and that was that. It was all over pretty fast.¡± Nathanius growled and paced. ¡°Was anyone else hurt?¡± Fest shook his head. ¡°None of our people.¡± Nathanius turned to the pirates. ¡°Where¡¯s your captain?¡± Fest answered. ¡°Still at the party. We sent for him but we don¡¯t have time to wait. What do we do?¡± There was no good answer. Nathanius leaned against a post. The lamps sputtered in the darkened hold. The faces of the pirates hovered like spirits made of smoke. Nathanius stared at the dancing flame and pondered, thoughts running around his head in dizzy circles. He felt the need for a glass of brandy. Or a barrel. Wait. He looked up. ¡°I¡¯ve got it.¡± Fest breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s the plan?¡± Nathanius pointed at the bodies. ¡°Get them into their beds.¡± He turned to the pirates. ¡°Do you keep rum on the Gull?¡± The one who¡¯d spoken earlier nodded. ¡°Bring it here and dump it out on the bodies. Put the bottles with them in their bunks. After that, clear out and get to the Gull. Douse the lights and stay below deck.¡± Fest raised an eyebrow. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t they prepare to sail?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°Slipping away now would be too suspicious. People would ask questions. We¡¯re going to make like you slept through the whole thing. You¡¯ll leave in the morning.¡± The group hesitated. Nathanius couldn¡¯t tell if they were confused or if it was because he¡¯d asked them to give up their rum. Fest spoke up. ¡°You heard the man! Move!¡± The pirates ran out, boots and bare feet thumping hard on the hewn wooden steps leading to the deck. Fest drew in close and whispered. ¡°What exactly are they sleeping through?¡± Nathanius looked around the hold. It was stacked with rope, spare sails, barrels of lamp oil, wood, and hammocks. The flames in the oil lamps glowed, winking. He turned to Fest. ¡°There¡¯s going to be a fire.¡± II. The ship went up like a torch. Nathanius watched from an alley across the street. Fest stayed on the Gull with the pirates to make sure none of them said anything stupid when the time came to answer questions. Flames lapped up the cutter¡¯s sails and groped the masts. By the time the alarm was raised it was far too late. The vessel burned to the waterline, a grisly pyre for the unlucky souls aboard whose only crime was to overhear the conversation of a group of drunken pirates. Still, they would be safe. The fire would destroy any evidence of the fight. With a bit of luck, anyone who came to investigate the incident would find just enough evidence to support the notion that the sailors had immolated their own ship in the muddled throes of their own drunken stupor. A crowd had grown around the dock. They were mostly people from the town. A line of soldiers was keeping them back from the scene. The crew of the Gull would be forced to answer questions. Hopefully Fest would be able to keep their responses in line. Even if he did, there would still be trouble coming. It wasn¡¯t as though the Sylarean government was ignorant to the fact that smuggling was on the rise along the coast. Someone was bound to come poking around. Nathanius only hoped they could be bought. He turned away and headed back up the alley, running through the numbers in his head. How much could they offer? How much did they even have on hand? They¡¯d invested quite a bit in the ambergris. It would depend on how moral the investigators were inclined to be. A small part of him knew that the smart move would be to move on. His father would have told him to move on at a time like this. Sniff the wind. There¡¯s a smell when fortune starts to turn sour. No. He couldn¡¯t go back. They were just starting to get on top. To flee would mean starting over, and if he were to be honest with himself, there weren¡¯t many places left to go: across the desert, maybe¡­or to the mountains. But they lived a rougher life out there. Nathanius flattered himself that he wasn¡¯t meant for that kind of life, desperately scratching sustenance out of the rock and dust and snow. It was in Fest¡¯s hands now. For good or ill, it would all be decided in the next few days. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #64: Profit and Loss Exiles Issue #64 ¡°Profit and Loss¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright September 6th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Nathanius sat on the edge of the bed. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Fest was across from him, idly examining the payoff bags on the desk. ¡°Absolutely.¡± The ambergris would be heading out in a few short hours. Nathanius would have preferred to wait until the state investigation had finished completely, but they didn¡¯t have a choice. They¡¯d already been forced to delay too long. If they didn¡¯t leave tonight they would never make their delivery on time. In the days following the fire the government had chosen to send in a team from the exchequer¡¯s office in the capital. The destruction of the cutter had lit a fire under their ordinarily reliable bureaucratic complacency. The seas along the coast were filling up with pirate hunters, and the highways had been beaten flat by the hoof beats of the patrols. The cost of keeping their operation under wraps was beginning to mount. For the moment the local officials were still well paid and on board, but it was only a matter of time before someone cracked. Fest turned. ¡°We¡¯re going to meet with them tonight at a crossroads outside of town.¡± Nathanius grumbled. ¡°Who¡¯s going to be there?¡± ¡°The man the exchequer sent and his lieutenant. If you can reach an agreement, they¡¯ll be able to keep the hounds off. We¡¯ll pony up a patsy and everything will go back to normal.¡± Nathanius grabbed his coat. ¡°And where do I come in?¡± Fest grinned. ¡°You¡¯re the brains of the outfit, right? You said as much yourself. No parties. No ties. All business.¡± Nathanius chuckled. ¡°I guess I did.¡± Fest picked up the bags. ¡°You¡¯ll need to contact our guy at customs. Bring him with you. I¡¯ll take care of the shipment.¡± Nathanius raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re sure you can handle it? You¡¯ve never done the handoff before.¡± Fest laughed. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s me.¡± Nathanius laughed. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of.¡± Fest smiled. ¡°Just get to that meeting. It might not be a bad idea to take some stersii with you as well.¡± ¡°A good-faith payment?¡± Fest shrugged.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Couldn¡¯t hurt.¡± Nathanius grabbed what he needed and went out. It was already night and the streets were empty. He made his way across town to the customs office, keeping to the alleys to avoid the street patrols. He and his contact would have to travel on foot across country to reach the meeting site. The roads would be too risky. The arrangements were rushed, but Fest¡ªtrue to his own fashion¡ªhad been loitering in the bars with the imperials for days. He was an excellent roper. If he was sure their man could be brought around, Nathanius was confident he could close the deal. It was a simple question of coin. II. Nathanius paced back and forth across the road. Their contact was late. The customs officer sat on the raised earth that bordered it, waiting. ¡°I wish you would stop that.¡± Nathanius looked over at him. ¡°I can¡¯t help it. They should be here by now.¡± The man shrugged. ¡°Maybe they got held up.¡± Nathanius gave him a flat look. ¡°You¡¯re not worried.¡± The man yawned. ¡°No, only tired. It¡¯s the middle of the night.¡± Nathanius scanned the darkness. There were only three roads heading out of Llay. Two of them followed the coast. The third ran out into the countryside before splitting into a network of branching spurs that ran to the inland towns. Despite his elvish vision, he couldn¡¯t see far. The crossroads where they were standing was couched among these, nestled in the intersections of the farm country¡¯s twisting web, deeply concealed by acres of tall wheat and fruiting barley. Fest had picked a good spot. Nathanius knew the roads by heart for a hundred miles, but no one unfamiliar with their organization would look for a meeting way out here. The customs man yawned. ¡°Maybe they got lost.¡± Nathanius continued squinting into the dark. ¡°Yeah...¡± Something wasn¡¯t right. There was a kind of vacuous tension in the air, the kind that always seemed to materialize when matters were about to take a bad turn. Nathanius picked up his pack. ¡°Come on. We¡¯re going.¡± The customs man looked up. ¡°What if they come and we¡¯re not here?¡± Nathanius shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ll sort it out later.¡± The man shrugged and stood up. ¡°If you say so.¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°I do.¡± They gathered their belongings and prepared to set off, back across country the way they¡¯d come. Nathanius had one foot already in the verge when they saw a shadow coming up the road. The customs officer pointed. ¡°Hey, look!¡± He squinted. ¡°It¡¯s a wagon. They¡¯re here.¡± Nathanius stepped back into the road. ¡°Took them long enough.¡± They waited. Nathanius watched as the vehicle drew closer. No one had any torches. Light would only draw attention. Nathanius was comforted by the fact that the vehicle appeared to be alone. A patrol would have been on horseback. Still, it didn¡¯t look like an official transport. He muttered. ¡°Maybe they borrowed a civilian cart.¡± The customs officer wavered. ¡°They don¡¯t look like soldiers. Maybe they¡¯re out of uniform?¡± Nathanius stared hard. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± It wasn¡¯t until the wagon was close enough for the moonlight to reveal the driver¡¯s face that Nathanius saw who it was. The man raised an eyebrow. ¡°Boss?¡± The ambergris shipment. Nathanius rushed over. ¡°What are you doing here? You¡¯re supposed to be headed south along the coast. We paid a fortune to clear your route.¡± The man shook his head, befuddled. ¡°Fest said plans had changed. He didn¡¯t even give me the payoff bag. Said I was supposed to meet you and get it out here.¡± Nathanius¡¯s breath caught in his throat. The driver was one of their newer recruits. Expendable. He looked around, eyes darting across the field. ¡°Crap.¡± The customs officer gave a confused look. ¡°What?¡± Nathanius turned. ¡°We¡¯ve been set up.¡± The fields around them erupted. Soldiers poured onto the road, blades drawn and flashing in the cold silver moonlight. The driver cracked the reins as arrows began to fly. He sped away, but a volley of arrows from up the darkness struck him in the shoulder and the neck. He leaned forward and fell from the seat. His body tumbled to the earth with a thump. Nathanius threw himself to the ground and covered his head. The customs officer fell to the earth, stabbed through the heart. He coughed up a foam of blood and lay still. Quiet descended. Nathanius waited for the end. It didn¡¯t come. A boot landed in front of his face. Nathanius looked up into the stern eyes of the exchequer¡¯s envoy. ¡°Nathanius Calchas?¡± He sat up and resigned a long breath. ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± The man gave a grim nod. ¡°You¡¯re under arrest.¡± III. Fest came to see him in jail. It was the least he could do. Nathanius regarded him coldly through the iron bars of his cramped cell. The trial was already over. The local magistrate had seen to it personally; a little too personally in point of fact. The whole thing reeked. They¡¯d thrown the book at him: smuggling, tax evasion, conspiracy, sabotage, burning of ships in port, and of course murder. The halfling pirate leaned against the wall, nibbling on an apple. ¡°They¡¯re going to exile you.¡± Nathanius nodded silently. Fest took a bite of the apple. ¡°They were going to hang you. I had to pull quite a few strings.¡± He took another bite. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± Nathanius didn¡¯t answer right away. He already knew what had happened. Hell, Fest had explained it to him himself. He¡¯d simply left an important detail: he was the patsy. He only had one question. ¡°Why?¡± Fest looked up. ¡°Hmm?¡± ¡°You heard me. Why? It wasn¡¯t necessary. We could have handled it.¡± The halfling leaned up from the wall. ¡°I did handle it. They were open to the money. They took it almost the minute I offered it, but the imperial exchequer wasn¡¯t going to accept failure on the part of his investigators. The case needed a dramatic conclusion. You know, something flashy they could show off to the public. We had to give up someone high in the ranks.¡± Nathanius growled. ¡°And you picked me?¡± Fest shrugged. ¡°Should have made more friends.¡± Nathanius retreated to the back of the cell and sat down on his straw bed. Fest was an idiot. ¡°You¡¯ll never be able to run this organization without me. You don¡¯t have the contacts.¡± Fest reached into his jacket. ¡°Oh, you mean these contacts?¡± The leather folio emerged from his coat. ¡°You really should hide your personal possessions more cleverly. I mean, come on. A hidden compartment in your desk? Who did you think you were dealing with?¡± Nathanius stared at the floor. ¡°I thought I was dealing with a friend.¡± Fest smiled and took another bite of apple. He answered with his mouth full. ¡°I got your sentence reduced, didn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Gee, thanks.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t take it personally. It¡¯s a simple question of coin.¡± Nathanius pointed at the book. ¡°That ledger is in code. You won¡¯t be able to manage it by yourself.¡± Fest stuffed it back into his jacket. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know about that. The Water Road has some pretty sharp folks on the payroll these days, thanks to you. I¡¯m sure one of them will be able to interpret your little system.¡± He turned to leave. Nathanius ran to the bars and reached out, missing his sleeve by inches. He pressed his face against the iron. ¡°I will kill you if I ever see you again. I hope you know that.¡± Fest gave a little smile and a shrug. ¡°But you won¡¯t. Sorry, Nathanius, but this is the end of the road.¡± The door at the end of the room groaned open. Fest walked quietly away and went out. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Issue #65: Leader of the Pack Exiles Issue #65 ¡°Leader of the Pack¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright September 7th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. Nathanius felt someone kick his foot. He blinked his eyes open to find Asterious standing over him. ¡°Get up. They¡¯re here.¡± Nathanius looked around. He¡¯d been dreaming. The last thing he remembered was talking with Polly. Her head was nestled up against his shoulder under their woollen blanket. Her tousled locks lay loosely across his chest. He couldn¡¯t remember what he¡¯d told her and how much was the dream. He looked up. ¡°How do you know?¡± Asterious pointed to the trees. ¡°Movement.¡± Nathanius jostled Polly with his shoulder. She started awake and drew a knife. She had it at his throat before he could say another word. ¡°What¡¯s going on!¡± He tried to keep still. ¡°It¡¯s alright. Calm down.¡± ¡°You calm down.¡± Nathanius pulled back, slowly raising his arms. ¡°It¡¯s okay. They¡¯re here.¡± Polly looked around. ¡°Where?¡± Asterious answered. ¡°Everywhere. Better start talking.¡± Nathanius stood up. The fire had burned out. Snow covered every surface. The moonlight shone down. They were awash in the smooth skin of the wilderness. Nathanius put his arms out. ¡°We came to talk!¡± There was no answer. ¡°The villagers sent us with a message!¡± Asterious took a step back, responding to some unseen stimuli. Nathanius withdrew into his cloak. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re listening.¡± Polly got into a crouch. ¡°I can¡¯t see them.¡± Asterious¡¯s eyes probed the darkness. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. They heard you.¡± He bobbed his head. ¡°There.¡± The darkness began to move. The silhouettes of human shoulders, arms, and legs began to emerge from the black treeline. Only one drew close. It was a halfling. She had short hair, cut against her scalp on the right and left. The top of her head was braided tightly in a complicated pattern set with beads made from turquoise and bone. She stood in front of them, wrapped in fur and leather. Her voice was stern, but bright. ¡°Telendi.¡± Nathanius smiled stepped forward. ¡°Yes, we are. Do you speak the common tongue?¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She shot him a look. ¡°Of course. Do I look like I come from around here?¡± Nathanius bowed low. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean any offence. We¡¯re not here to start a fight. We came to talk. My name is Nathanius.¡± The woman bore a long staff with a heavy stone disk tied to the end. She held it out. ¡°You are not permitted to speak.¡± Nathanius straightened up. ¡°The villagers sent me to negotia¡ª¡± She cut him off. ¡°Do not make me repeat myself!¡± He shut up. The woman turned to Polly. ¡°Who are you?¡± Polly put her knife away. ¡°My name is Polly. I¡¯m a friend.¡± The woman received the answer with an expression of stone. She turned to Asterious. ¡°And you?¡± He answered. ¡°I am Asterious Gondavol. Your people know me.¡± Nathanius watched. The woman spoke back over her shoulder. She said something in the barbarian tongue and then turned back to face them. ¡°You will come with us.¡± Nathanius nodded. ¡°We will.¡± II. Azarelle put her hands to the fire. It was beginning to burn low. The crowd huddled in close, a stinking, unwashed mass of dirt and leather. She prodded at the logs with an iron stick. Ellyn sat beside her. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll be alright?¡± Azarelle turned. Ellyn stared at the fire, huddled with her knees pulled up to her chest under a blanket. She¡¯d been fretting over their missing comrades almost from the hour they left. Azarelle found it odd. It didn¡¯t seem like her to be so attached. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be fine. They¡¯re messengers. The task is safe enough.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure.¡± Azarelle prodded the fire with a long iron. ¡°Why do you care so much? You barely know them.¡± Ellyn gave her a stern look. ¡°They¡¯re our friends. We¡¯ve been through a lot. And if they don¡¯t come back these people will throw us out.¡± Azarelle shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ve got the wagon and the stove. I¡¯m sure we would find a way to make do.¡± Ellyn glared. ¡°I don¡¯t understand how you can be so cold. I thought you and Polly were friends.¡± ¡°We are friends.¡± ¡°Well, what if the natives decide to hold them? Or kill them? Don¡¯t you care?¡± Azarelle gave her a flat look. ¡°Of course I care.¡± Ellyn grumbled and sank into her seat. ¡°You don¡¯t look it.¡± Azarelle frowned and set the iron aside. ¡°We can¡¯t do anything for them from here.¡± Ellyn grumbled. ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why we had to stay. We can take care of ourselves. We should have gone.¡± Azarelle chuckled. She was glad to have stayed. The deal Asterious negotiated had come as a shock, but that didn¡¯t make it any less of a good thing, and if her experiences with Lon and Valis had taught her anything, it was that it was rarely wise to doubt a good thing. She¡¯d been comfortable with the Jaspers; now they were gone, all because she allowed herself to believe that she was entitled to more¡­somehow. If she¡¯d had more faith in Lon and his brothers, perhaps Valis wouldn¡¯t have been able to drive her into doubt. Things might have turned out differently. They might have turned out better. Or not. Had they stayed and thrown their lot in with the Jaspers, they could just as easily have died in the invasion. They¡¯d barely escaped with their lives as it was. She took a long breath. It was frustrating, not knowing. She¡¯d gone through her entire life knowing the right answers, and she¡¯d never been given convincing cause to question her convictions: not during her studies, nor during her work, nor even in the lab before and even after the accident; yet sitting in this dark room with its feeble fire and desperate occupants, she couldn¡¯t escape the speculation that her judgement was somehow¡­flawed. It was a terrifying thought. She couldn¡¯t believe it. There were no more logs to throw onto the fire. She stood up and left Ellyn there, searching for an empty corner of the room to sleep in. She only hoped that Nathanius, Polly, and Asterious would be able to broker some kind of peace with the natives so Edmund Giant would let them stay. She needed time to finish her work. With the gods alive and their power growing, escaping the continent had become all that mattered. She would accomplish it at any cost. The others would thank her when it was over. III. Ellyn didn¡¯t watch Azarelle go. She was lost in her own thoughts. The mayor sat down in her seat. ¡°Comfortable?¡± Ellyn looked up at him. ¡°Comfortable enough. Thanks for letting us stay. I know you don¡¯t have much room.¡± He smiled and held his huge hands out to the dimming flame. ¡°I was actually hoping you could help us out. Your friend mentioned before he left that you are a musician. Is that true?¡± Ellyn blinked. ¡°My friend?¡± The mayor nodded. ¡°Asterious. He said you might be able to help improve the citizens¡¯ morale.¡± Ellyn leaned forward onto her knees. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. My own morale is pretty low right about now. I never planned on any of this. I just want to go home. I want a comfortable life where I can sleep in a warm bed and play music and not have to worry about starving to death or being murdered. Is that too much to ask?¡± The mayor shrugged. He pulled a hunk of green cheese out of his coat. ¡°Hungry?¡± Ellyn looked over. Her stomach turned. ¡°No thanks.¡± The mayor chuckled. ¡°You know what your problem is?¡± Ellyn kept her eyes on the low blaze. ¡°What?¡± He took a bite of the cheese. ¡°You expect things to get easier for you.¡± Ellyn turned her head. ¡°What do you mean? And how do you know?¡± The mayor shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s only a guess. We don¡¯t get many people from the city this far south, but they¡¯re usually all about the same.¡± ¡°How flattering.¡± He waved her off. ¡°What I mean is that they all seem to want the same things. They¡¯re all miserable, they all remember where they came from, they all wish they¡¯d realized how good they had it back home, and they¡¯re all desperate to find a way to get back to the kind of life they used to have.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡± The mayor took another bite of cheese. ¡°Nothing, but it¡¯s not going to happen.¡± ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you a ray of sunshine.¡± He laughed. ¡°We don¡¯t get much sun around here. What you new arrivals have to realize is that the kind of life that you used to have doesn¡¯t exist here, at least not yet.¡± He leaned back and put his boots near the fire. ¡°I was born on Kalkonu. I¡¯ve lived here in Hane my whole life, and it¡¯s never gotten easier. Sure, the town has grown. There are more people than there used to be. In a way it¡¯s gotten better for us, but it¡¯s never gotten easier. That kind of progress comes slowly. Your problem is that want it all back now. I can understand that, but if you spend all your energy trying to find a shortcut, you¡¯ll only end up getting dragged down.¡± Ellyn sighed. ¡°You¡¯re saying I should settle?¡± The mayor laughed. ¡°I¡¯m saying that the best way to have what you want is to want what you have. Work hard. Accept that happiness comes in excruciating increments, and get comfortable with the fact that it probably won¡¯t be you that ever gets to have it easy..¡± He looked up to the balcony of the second floor. A trio of young children were peering down at them. ¡°But maybe the people who come after you might.¡± Ellyn looked up. ¡°Your kids?¡± The mayor smiled. For a moment Ellyn thought she saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye. He wiped it away with his glove. ¡°No. Not mine. My wife and I never had children.¡± ¡°You were married?¡± He nodded. ¡°She died two winters ago.¡± Ellyn frowned. ¡°That¡¯s awful. I¡¯m sorry.¡± He turned back to her. ¡°I did say it never gets easier.¡± Ellyn looked up at the ceiling. The rafters were shrouded in darkness. ¡°And what about the gods?¡± The mayor stood up. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out. For now, you¡¯ve got a fire, a blanket, and a roof over your head. And this¡­¡± He threw her the green cheese. ¡°Is not so bad.¡± Ellyn sat quietly, staring at the cheese in her lap. He wanted her to stay. She could recognize an offer when she heard it. It was the same offer that the Dominaa made all those weeks ago. She couldn¡¯t help but wonder if she should have taken it. Of course it didn¡¯t matter now. It was too late to go back. And maybe that was the point. She picked up her guitar and began to play. The crowd pressed in around her, listening to the soft melody in reverent silence. Across the room, a red-robed woman in a long veil retreated quietly up the stairs. Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C Exiles - Issue #66: The Choice Exiles Issue #66 ¡°The Choice¡± Written by Aaron McQueen Illustrated by Jennifer Lange Copyright September 10th, 2018 www.mcqueenserialfantasy.com www.patreon.com/McQueenBooks This story is dedicated to my family, my friends, and my most generous subscribers, whom I have listed below. Without their help, support, and contributions, this production would not be possible. Jeannie McQueen Donald McQueen Theresa McQueen-Uber Duana McQueen Jeff McQueen Eden Odhner I. They blindfolded them on their way through the woods, each person secured to a length of rope tied to the person in front of them. They also took their weapons. Polly kept her thoughts fixed firmly on the knife in her boot. It was well concealed in a pocket between the heel and the sole, no good in a fight but certainly reliable for an escape. The druids walked all around them. Most had taken on other forms as they entered the woods: wolves, birds, owls, deer, and a few other animals she couldn¡¯t recognize. They were surrounded by a menagerie. None of them made a sound. It made her skin crawl. ¡°How much further is it?¡± The halfling woman was the only one that had remained in her natural shape. She led them forward, one hand on the line as though she were guiding a caravan of mules. She spoke back over her shoulder. ¡°Keep quiet. We¡¯re not alone in these woods, you know.¡± Polly dummied up and grumbled. She still wasn¡¯t convinced this meeting was a good idea. It would have been better to take the wagon and the stove and camp out into the prairie until the spring. Foraging and hunting weren¡¯t exactly her strong suit, but Asterious would have been able to teach them. They would have been fine. At least then they wouldn¡¯t have gotten themselves into a position where, once again, their lives were in someone else¡¯s hands. She clenched her teeth. She hated this feeling, and yet ever since she came to the continent it seemed like she was never fully able to escape it. Azarelle. Nathanius. Asterious. Ellyn. Polly had come closer to feeling safe and sure among them¡ªeven in the face of danger¡ªthan she ever had before in her whole life. She was so tired of feeling desperate. Her foot caught on a log and she tripped, falling forward into the snow. The rope went taught and the others staggered to a halt. The halfling woman turned. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Polly climbed to her feet. ¡°I tripped. Give me a break. We¡¯ve been walking for hours.¡± The woman came back along the line and helped her up. She looked her in the eye and gave her a little shake. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s not much further. Just try not to talk.¡± She moved on back to the front of the line. Polly whispered to Asterious. ¡°Why is it so important we stay quiet? There are dozens of people out here. What could possibly be so dangerous?¡± Asterious whispered back. ¡°It¡¯s tribal code. We¡¯re not allowed to speak until we¡¯ve been recognized. Only the chieftain can do that.¡± It was another hour before anything changed. The terrain began to dip. They were moving down a gentle slope. Polly felt warmth on her face. A campfire. The woman led them around what Polly assumed was a clearing before she dropped the rope and removed their blindfolds. Polly blinked. They were standing in the middle of a shallow bowl in the middle of the woods. Evergreen trees stretched up into the sky overhead, drawing her eyes to the stars, while low huts made from mud and needled branches covered the ground, couched among the trunks and half-buried in the snow. Wisps of smoke emerged from tiny holes in their squatting roofs. There were too many to count. A single bonfire burned in the centre of the village. A ring of logs, hewn flat on top, surrounded it. Half-a-dozen men and women sat upon them.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. They wore mostly skins and furs. Their faces and chests were painted with blue, red, orange, and yellow. The ink formed depictions of animals, flowering vines, fish, and birds. One of them stood up as their blindfolds were removed and stepped forward. The halfling woman leaned in and whispered. ¡°This is Setarl, the leader of the circle. Both of them speak the common tongue, but they will not use it here. I will translate for you.¡± The man began to speak. ¡°Did I not tell you they would come? The others only understand pain. We will kill them and send their bodies back to the city where they belong.¡± Another man stood up. ¡°They came to talk. We should hear them.¡± The halfing woman whispered. ¡°That is Brynn Gungandi, chieftain of the village.¡± Polly whispered back. ¡°I thought you said Setarl was the leader?¡± The woman hissed. ¡°Do not speak here.¡± Polly pursed her lips, shaking with frustration. The woman went on. ¡°The chieftain leads. The Selecahri are a faction within the order of druids. Their reach extends far beyond the village.¡± She pointed. ¡°The people on the benches are the elders. They choose the chieftain at the beginning of each new year.¡± Brynn turned to the elders. ¡°What harm is there to be found in listening? We should hear them out. Kill them afterwards if we wish.¡± Setarl growled and shook his head. ¡°No. They stand for nothing. Their ways are evil and their tongues are deceptive. We should not hear their poisonous words.¡± He put out his arms and raised his voice. ¡°I speak for the gods of our people. I say that no good can come from dealing with the others. We taint ourselves by suffering their filth. They must be removed and driven back: back from the roots of the forest, back from the air of the plains, back from the shelter of the valley, back even from the foam of the coast.¡± He turned and faced them. ¡°Back into the sea that brought them here.¡± A number of the seated men and women thumped their fists onto their legs and stamped their feet, murmuring approval. Brynn shook his head. ¡°No. This is foolish. We attacked Hane because we saw that they would destroy us if we did nothing. If they have come to make peace, we owe it to ourselves and to them to hear them out.¡± Polly jumped as the man turned suddenly to face them. The halfling woman stepped back. She whispered. ¡°Good luck.¡± Brynn extended a muscled arm, riven with scars and painted with a twisting pattern of blue and orange vines. He spoke for the first time in the common tongue. ¡°I recognize you. Speak plainly.¡± Nathanius stepped forward. II. ¡°This is an insult!¡± Setarl stormed forward. Nathanius retreated across the clearing. The man¡¯s reaction was not what he had hoped for. The circle leader threw an arm around the clearing, addressing the elders. ¡°We give these others a chance to speak, and what do they bring us? A preposterous story! Gods? Invasion? More lies from a people of liars. This is no different than any other petty conflict among the others. I say let them fight amongst themselves. They will weaken and destroy each other, and when they are finished, we will retake the valley that is our birth right.¡± Nathanius stepped forward. ¡°You¡¯re wrong. The gods are here. I didn¡¯t believe it myself at first, but I saw them with my own eyes. We fought against and barely escaped with our lives. They may seem far away now but they will be coming. They won¡¯t be satisfied with Selapak and the north valley, and when they arrive the disputes you¡¯ve had with Hane are going to be the least of your worries. You must listen. You must make peace now¡­or never.¡± Silence descended on the clearing. Nathanius scanned their faces. The chieftain seemed open to diplomacy, but the faces of the elders were dark. Nathanius frowned. Edmund Giant was right. The militant faction had indeed gained power. Setarl began to laugh. ¡°A fine speech, but it changes nothing. These others have offered no concessions! The villagers want to end the violence. Of course they do. They are losing! We have them on their knees! Now is not the time to turn back!¡± Brynn came forward. ¡°We will meet with their leaders and see if there is any truth to these claims.¡± Setarl snarled. ¡°No!¡± Brynn turned to face him. ¡°I am the chieftain of this village. I act for its people. If these others speak the truth then all of us are in danger.¡± Setarl stepped forward. ¡°Fool! This is a deception! They are at their weakest and they stall for time. They hope to last until the next dawn when it will be too late. You fall into their trap!¡± Brynn growled. ¡°I am no fool, Setarl. If the others¡¯ desire to treat is genuine then we must listen!¡± Setarl stepped forward. ¡°No, we must not! Chieftain, you leave me no other choice. I call on the elders to remove your claim of leadership.¡± Brynn¡¯s eyes widened. His knuckles cracked. The muscle of his shoulders rippled as he turned to Setarl and looked him dead in the eye. ¡°The new year is long away, Setarl. I lead. Follow or go.¡± Setarl shook his head. ¡°No.¡± He took off his cloak. A murmur rolled around the gathering as the man further removed the rest of his clothing and his weapons and threw them down before the elders in the snow. The halfling woman gasped. Polly leaned back. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± She whispered back. ¡°Setarl has offered ¡®kerech.¡¯ It means ¡®the choice.¡¯ The elders will vote. If they favour Setarl, he becomes the new chieftain; if they do not, he will be put to death.¡± Nathanius leaned in close. ¡°Will they side with him?¡± The woman frowned. ¡°Perhaps. Setarl is very popular, and his views are held by many.¡± The first elder raised her hand. ¡°Setarl.¡± Nathanius¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°They¡¯re going to vote right now?! Can¡¯t we say anything?¡± She shook her head. ¡°The choice is a demand. To offer it means that the challenger believes the decision is clear. He would not offer it otherwise. We can only watch.¡± The next elder raised his hand. ¡°Setarl.¡± The elders voted one-by-one. ¡°Setarl.¡± ¡°Setarl.¡± ¡°Setarl.¡± They kept going. Nathanius was not well-versed in the politics of the native tribes, but he could spot a fix when he saw one. The chieftain, it seemed, was out on an even flimsier limb than they were. Polly tugged at his coat. ¡°What do we do now?¡± He shook his head. The vote concluded. Setarl took up his belongings and turned. ¡°The choice is made. Brynn. You are no longer the chieftain. Return to your house.¡± The chieftain bowed his head. He left without another word. Setarl turned to them. ¡°Put these telendi into cages. I will contact the rest of the circle. We will decide what to do with them.¡± Nathanius turned to the halfling woman. She gave a forlorn shrug. ¡°Sorry.¡± Setarl pointed at her. ¡°You too.¡± She turned. ¡°What?¡± Setarl smiled. ¡°You may wear our colours but you are not of our lineage. You are not one of us.¡± He turned to the elders. ¡°Send out our warriors. The others will be gathered up; then we will gather our sources. Tonight, we will attack Hane and destroy it.¡± They stomped their feet and nodded, standing. Setarl turned back to face them. ¡°The blood of our land will be purged.¡± Special Thanks To: Kristi Bubrig Ryan Lewis Nathan Liss Kayla Liss Timothy Tortal Matt C