《Underkeeper [Stub]》 1. An Old Acquaintance This story has been stubbed! You can find the full first book in text or audio formats on Amazon, Audible or Spotify starting February 18th, 2025. If you already read the first book and you''re here because you want to see how the story continues, skip ahead a few chapters to "2.1 Apartment Hunting". ------ Bernt leaned over a backed-up toilet and flourished a shabby wand. Casting an all too familiar spell for the fourth time that day, he scolded the wooden throne¡¯s owner. ¡°You can¡¯t just pour expired healing potions down the drain! They interact with the living matter in the pipes and down in the sewers to form slimes by the dozen, and those little bastards will latch onto every pipe in the street to feed on what comes washing down.¡± He knew that from experience, having spent the last week working his way up to the source of the problem¡ªthe back room of this man¡¯s workshop. The middle-aged alchemist really should have known better. The toilet gurgled as the water, sewage, and living congealed matter in the pipes boiled. A few droplets spurted out the top, spattering on Bernt¡¯s already filthy work robes. Then the whole mess began to drain down and out into the sewer. Of course, the culprit, who didn¡¯t look chagrined so much as annoyed, did know better. Expired potions were controlled substances, meaning that they had to be destroyed by trained professionals at specialized facilities¡ªfor a fee. While dumping them down the drain was illegal, the man would only be fined once per proven violation. So, as long as he¡¯d dumped a lot of potions down the drain at once, he¡¯d likely saved a bit of silver in the bargain. That it came at the expense of the entire neighborhood and his own clogged-up toilet didn¡¯t seem to concern him overmuch. He didn¡¯t even try to deny it. Instead, he pinched his nose and made a shooing gesture at him. ¡°Mind who you¡¯re talking to, Underkeeper. You couldn¡¯t afford one of my potions even if I bottled it on your end of that drain. Just do your job and get out of my shop. Your smell is going to drive away the paying customers.¡± Bernt sighed. What was the point in arguing? Pulling out a sheaf of damp papers, he filled out a citation for illegal waste disposal, imbued it with his mana to sign it, and cast a minor duplication charm for the alchemist¡¯s records. In his first year, he¡¯d repeatedly written to the city magistrate to make him aware of the ineffectiveness of illegal dumping penalties, but the magistrate didn¡¯t care. The citations brought in a bit of revenue, and the city had more urgent issues to deal with. Monster incursions, political tensions with neighboring states, organized crime, and the occasional rogue warlock left little time for things like updating city sanitation regulations. Besides, the problem was already solved. After all, that was what city maintenance and, more specifically, the Underkeepers were for. Swallowing his irritation, Bernt handed the man his copy of the citation and turned to go. He¡¯d finally tracked the slime outbreak to its source and made the neighborhood drains safe to use again. It wasn¡¯t glamorous, but it mattered to everyone who¡¯d woken up to find sewage backing up into their homes over the past week. Behind him, he heard the alchemist scoff. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you filthy crap-crawlers even bother with the paperwork. Just send me a bill next time.¡± Bernt hesitated, jaw clenching. Next time. Without answering, he stepped outside and closed the door just a little too firmly, feeling the blood pulsing at his temples. Before he could think better of it, he whipped out another sheet of paper. A quick duplication and an adhesion charm later, the citation was posted to the alchemist¡¯s door. Word would get around, he was sure. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s a pretty good glue cantrip!¡± came a friendly voice from behind him. Bernt¡¯s momentary sense of satisfaction withered and died. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Pasting a neutrally friendly expression on his face, he turned to greet the newcomer. ¡°Hello, Therion. Nice to see you.¡± Therion was Bernt¡¯s former classmate at the Mages¡¯ Academy. He was also a painful example of what Bernt could have become with the right kind of backing¡ªa fairly successful adventurer, already rank 3 after just two years in the business. Unlike him, Therion was the scion of an adventuring family, born with connections and money that Bernt couldn¡¯t even begin to grasp. Of course, anybody could become an adventurer. Quests were posted publicly by the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. But that didn¡¯t mean that just anyone could survive adventuring. Even low-ranked quests were dangerous, and people who didn¡¯t come prepared with expensive equipment and healing potions were unlikely to live very long. ¡°Excuse me, I need to¡ª¡± ¡°Hey, wow, what¡¯s this?¡± Therion was peering over Bernt¡¯s shoulder, reading the citation with an intensifying frown. ¡°Old Julian¡¯s been dumping his old potions down the drain?!¡± His eyes snapped to Bernt, then back to the citation, and then back to Bernt. ¡°Wait a minute, what? You¡¯re a muck mage?¡± Bernt sighed. ¡°Underkeeper,¡± he corrected. ¡°I¡¯m an Underkeeper.¡± Underkeepers, more casually referred to as muck mages, sewer sorcerers, or waste wizards, were the dregs of magery everywhere¡ªthe ones who didn¡¯t have what it took to make it as a real mage. Specifically the connections and resources to become an adventurer, the raw talent to be sponsored as a war mage, or the funds to purchase membership in the Mages¡¯ Guild, which allowed one to practice any number of arcane professions privately in the city. This was the conversation he didn¡¯t want to have. ¡°What happened?¡± Therion asked, wide-eyed. He didn¡¯t get it. People like him never did. As far as he was concerned, the startup costs of a freshly graduated mage were an afterthought. Even if he hadn¡¯t personally had money to launch an adventuring career, he could simply have borrowed from his family. Alternatively, he could have leveraged his connections to have the guild licensing fees waived¡ªnot that he needed to. He was always going to be an adventurer. Bernt sighed. ¡°Nothing happened,¡± he said, trying not to sound too defensive. ¡°I just can¡¯t afford adventuring equipment yet. I¡¯ll be out there soon.¡± Therion¡¯s facial expression became painfully awkward. ¡°Oh¡­ Uh¡­ Do you need¡­ I mean, you want me to see if I can¡ª¡± ¡°No!¡± Bernt interrupted, scowling now. ¡°I don¡¯t need charity!¡± Help from some rich adventurer princeling was the last thing he needed. He knew the way the world worked. Accepting a favor like that would come back to bite him later. Even if the man was just being nice, it would cost Bernt something more important¡ªhis autonomy. People like Therion built small crowds of followers that way, bought and bound to live in their shadows. That wasn¡¯t going to happen to Bernt. Nobody was going to rope him into service¡ªno matter how congenial they were about it. He was saving what he could and it was adding up. Slowly. A few more years, if everything went well, and he could wash off the stench of the Underkeepers once and for all¡ªboth figuratively and literally. And he¡¯d do it himself, so that when the time came, he couldn¡¯t be pushed in any direction he didn¡¯t want to go. ¡°Right, right, I remember. Relax, I didn¡¯t mean anything by it.¡± Therion eyed Bernt¡¯s wand with more than a little skepticism. The magical focus looked like something that a goblin enchanter might have cobbled together while drunk. It might have been, for all he knew. Bernt had found it in a clog in one of the city¡¯s storm drains. But it was serviceable, and that was all that mattered to him. Every copper he didn¡¯t blow on mediocre equipment today was money he could spend on reliable adventuring gear later. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ you¡¯re wasted here!¡± Therion went on, clearly unable to help himself. ¡°Pyromancers don¡¯t grow on trees, you know? It would hardly even be charity, I bet my father could have a word with the guild¡ª¡± He stopped as Bernt¡¯s expression darkened further, and held up his hands, palms out. ¡°Alright, alright, easy! It was just an idea, no need to take offense. I¡¯m sure you have it all handled.¡± He glanced back at the citation again, changing the subject. ¡°Looks like you handled old Julian pretty well. We fought a bunch of those slimes downriver a few days ago, you know? They¡¯ve been a menace for months, harassing nearly every party to come up the road. They crept up on us while we slept, and one nearly got our healer. She¡¯s still waiting for a specialist to arrive from Teres to help with the scarring. Those chemical burns are brutal.¡± His jaw clenched and he met Bernt¡¯s eyes. Bernt actually saw purple fractals of arcane energy flickering in Therion¡¯s suddenly intense gaze. ¡°Thanks for catching him. I¡¯ll make sure word gets around.¡± Mollified, Bernt nodded. ¡°Well, I really do need to get going.¡± He turned away. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around.¡± As he left, he felt Therion¡¯s eyes on him, considering. Moments later, the feeling went away with the sound of the door exploding off its hinges into the shop, and then Therion¡¯s voice boomed down the street with exaggerated cheer, magically amplified for the benefit of the public. ¡°Oh, hi, Julian! Would you believe what I found posted on your door?!¡± 2. A Rewarding Job Smiling to himself, Bernt made his way down the street toward the lower city administrative district, ready to check the culverts and storm drains and clear out any obstructions before doing the same underground in the actual sewer system. In a more socially conscious world, this wouldn¡¯t require a mage. Unfortunately, alchemical spills, mutated sewer denizens, slimes, and other, even more unusual problems plagued the city¡¯s literal underbelly, mostly because of people like Julian the alchemist. Those needed the attention of a mage¡ªif not necessarily a very good one. Normally, running sewer checks was an arduous and boring task that could take days, but he had a secret advantage that would save him hours of trudging through filth. Tugging on a mental connection that he¡¯d forged two years earlier, he summoned his familiar. He felt where she was, the creature scampering toward him before she came crawling out of a relatively clean storm drain just a few meters away. She was a skinny, long-fingered imp dressed in a filthy rag and standing nearly two feet tall. Like his wand, Bernt had found her in the sewers. She¡¯d been even tinier than now, with gigantic, ugly-cute eyes that looked up at him in quivering terror. Regulations would have required him to destroy her, but he just didn¡¯t have the stomach for it. Some idiot had presumably tried to summon something else and torn her from her home plane instead. She certainly hadn¡¯t had a choice in the matter. He didn¡¯t know what the demon plane was like, but he couldn¡¯t imagine that being abandoned as garbage in a sewer was an improvement. So, he¡¯d decided to adopt her as a familiar instead. A bond with a demon would technically make him a warlock¡ªif the bond actually came with any infernal powers, which it didn¡¯t, thankfully. Still, most self-respecting mages avoided stepping anywhere near the line that separated them from warlocks. They viewed them as magical pretenders and amateurs, too weak and talentless to learn real magic. That contrasted starkly with the stories that Bernt had grown up with. There, warlocks were portrayed bluntly as the very worst of humanity¡ªsoulless monsters who snatched children from the streets to sacrifice in their dark rituals. In either case, he did not want to be associated with them. But¡­ he¡¯d kept Jori anyway. As it turned out, she didn¡¯t actually mind the sewers very much. More importantly, she could move through them at astonishing speed, and with the familiar bond, Bernt received rudimentary impressions of what she saw down there. So, while he checked the storm drains aboveground, she scampered through the sewer mains below, looking for obstructions in the pipes and signs of pests and invaders. ¡°Hey Jori, it¡¯s time to run sewer checks. Just follow along below, alright?¡± The little imp chittered in response, displaying hideously sharp teeth. She couldn¡¯t really talk, but he sensed her agreement through the bond as she flitted around his legs and nipped at his boot before disappearing back down the drain in a flash. He walked his usual pattern, cutting through the maze of streets and alleyways with practiced ease to check every storm drain and access shaft in the district. Eventually, he felt a familiar psychic tug on his mind that drew his attention to his bond to Jori. She¡¯d found something. Through her eyes, he saw a mess of garbage, sticks, sludge, and something whitish¡ªprobably hardened cooking grease¡ªthat was starting to accumulate at a junction. It was already slowing down the flow of sewage in the main, which would deposit ever more material until the entire main was clogged. That could make an entire neighborhood uninhabitable for weeks, or worse, cause a disease outbreak. Moments later, Bernt was descending down the nearest shaft, where Jori was already waiting for him, jumping up and down in excitement. Smiling at her antics, he tossed her a bit of spicy dried rat jerky, which he¡¯d made himself. It was a recipe he¡¯d often used as an underfed orphan, before the king¡¯s magefinders had discovered him. Sometimes he still liked to have a bite, but mostly he just made it for Jori now. She jumped up, snatching the bit of meat out of the air with her teeth and chittering happily. Her help was invaluable to him, because it meant that he worked almost twice as fast as anyone would expect of him. As a result, he could take time off to study, experiment with new spells, and improve his spellcasting basics. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Of course, Bernt had already learned all of the basic cantrips at the Mages¡¯ Academy and a fair number of proper spells besides, even earning his basic pyromancer qualification. But true mastery was a long road. It was the mantra of every advanced mage he¡¯d ever met. Weaving a spell even slightly faster or being a little bit more efficient could theoretically save his life someday. He knew it wasn¡¯t as good as actual adventuring experience, but working to save that time was something he could do right now that would benefit him in the future. Maybe he should work on his basic force spells. He couldn¡¯t blow a door off its hinges at a moment¡¯s notice like Therion had done earlier, and that kind of thing could surely come in handy. Considering, he headed down toward the next storm drain. *** At the end of the day, Bernt made his way back to the Halfbridge Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters to submit his daily report and the citation. For the home base of an entire order of mages, it was tiny: just a main room for meetings and a single office in the back. Technically, all nine Underkeepers worked here, counting Bernt¡¯s boss¡ªthe archmage of the Underkeepers. In actuality, they only came here to pick up their daily assignments and to drop off reports. As soon as he opened the door, the man¡¯s gravelly voice called his name from the back. ¡°Bernt, is that you? Get in here!¡± Sighing, Bernt cast a quick cleaning spell on his cloak and hung it up. It wouldn¡¯t remove the stains, but it would kill the smell. He¡¯d done his boots before entering. The owner of the voice was a crusty old fellow by the name of Ed. Opening the door to his office, Bernt was greeted by the customary cloud of pipe smoke that perpetually surrounded the man, followed by his equally customary scowl as the smoke cleared. ¡°Bernt! What in all the hells happened out there today?!¡± he barked. ¡°Ehm¡­¡± Bernt hesitated, but then decided to just keep it simple, holding out the report with the citation on top. ¡°I finished the slimes in the Crafters¡¯ District and started the rounds for the lower administrative zone. Why?¡± Ed snorted and then wheezed out a rattling cough. ¡°WHY?¡± He took the proffered papers and waved them in Bernt¡¯s face. ¡°I had the damned magistrate¡¯s secretary in here not two hours ago to tell me that they revoked Master Alchemist Julian¡¯s license. The City Guard apparently raided his shop and arrested him to deliver the news. He¡¯s currently in the dungeon for recklessly endangering citizens.¡± He took a breath, collecting himself. ¡°So now, I want to know,¡± he said, pulling the citation off the top of the stack. ¡°What could you have possibly cited that old prick for to provoke that kind of response before I even got my hands on it? Do you even know what¡¯s going to happen to you when the case gets thrown out? You have to be able to back up your citations! We don¡¯t have the Mages¡¯ Guild here to cover our asses in a legal dispute!¡± That was almost a relief. Apparently Therion really did manage to get the word out to some influential ears. ¡°Relax, Ed. It¡¯s fine,¡± he said, taking a seat. ¡°It¡¯s just a normal dumping citation. He confessed to it on the spot, and he¡¯s not exactly a first-time offender.¡± That was an understatement. Julian and others like him were long known to the Underkeepers and their dumping misdemeanors were well documented, though their specific actions could rarely be linked to anything serious. But if Julian¡¯s slimes were compared to samples from those that attacked Therion¡¯s party and found to match¡­ well, they¡¯d probably already done their own tests. Either way, none of this was on the Underkeepers. The palace was conducting this investigation on its own. Maybe on behalf of the magistrate himself. Ed grunted noncommittally, before finally bothering to read the citation. After a moment, he sat back in surprise. ¡°What happened?¡± he asked. Bernt did his best not to look smug. ¡°One of the alchemist¡¯s wealthier patrons arrived as I was issuing the citation,¡± he explained, ¡°and he didn¡¯t seem very pleased with Master Julian when he saw what it was about.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned,¡± Ed muttered. Then he shook his head. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d see the day¡­¡± Bernt stood there for a moment, then cleared his throat when Ed didn¡¯t say anything more. He just continued staring at the citation. ¡°If that¡¯s everything,¡± Bernt said, ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡± Ed blinked and looked up. ¡°Ah, one more thing.¡± He reached under the table and pulled out a smooth wooden box marked on top with an intricate carving. ¡°The magistrate¡¯s secretary left this here for you¡ªsaid it was a token of appreciation from ¡®the alchemist¡¯s victims,¡¯ whoever that¡¯s supposed to be specifically.¡± Curious, Bernt reached out to take it, but Ed didn¡¯t let go. ¡°Bernt,¡± he said, his scowl suddenly radiating something more paternal than grumpy. ¡°Be careful. You got the attention of some important people today. That sort of thing doesn¡¯t end well for people like us.¡± With that, he let go. ¡°Thanks,¡± Bernt answered. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± Ed grunted and waved him out, back to his usual self. 3. Roots Bernt hid the box in one of his sleeves, circling around a few well-dressed teenagers as he made his way downhill toward the river. One of them, wearing academy robes, pointed at him as she talked to her friends. They sneered at him, but he ignored them. He wasn¡¯t going to let the judgment of a bunch of rich half-trained fools intimidate him. Down the street a young priest stood on a wooden box preaching to a small crowd of passers-by who had stopped to listen. As Bernt passed, he caught a bit of it. ¡°¡­ to their influence. Demons live among us, tolerated even by the king himself. It is up to each of us, then, to keep our communities pure of their taint. We can never forget what complacency and tolerance of evil have brought to humanity in the past: the fall of the Empire and the desolation of Harrowick. These are but¡­¡± The voice was swallowed up by the noise of traffic. Bernt didn¡¯t disagree with the man on any particular point. History showed that dealing with demons was dangerous¡ªand not just for the warlock. But he also had a hard time seeing Jori as anything other than his rascally little helper. He had a direct line to her thoughts, and he¡¯d never so much as caught an evil impulse from her. Besides, Jori hadn¡¯t made any deals, so far as he knew. People like that priest would see her dead on sight anyway, though. It just didn¡¯t quite sit right with him. A few minutes later, he turned off the main street and stepped into a familiar alleyway that led to a small, dingy courtyard. While it wasn¡¯t exactly clean, someone had recently picked up the garbage and swept the place. At the far end stood a rickety two-story building. On the lintel above the door, someone had inexpertly scrawled the words ¡°Halfbridge Orphanage,¡± though the paint was so faded now that he could barely make it out in the dim light. An old broom, the brushwood nearly worn down to the shaft, leaned against the frame. He opened the door and stepped inside without knocking¡ªthey knew he was coming today. Jori was off doing her own thing in the sewers below, probably terrorizing the local rat population or looking for shiny things. That was for the best. He wasn¡¯t about to risk the kids seeing a demon. ¡°I¡¯m here!¡± he called out, taking in the familiar presence of the place. The house smelled of soap and wood, and was always a little too dark. ¡°Hello, Bernie. I¡¯ve already got them ready for you in the main room,¡± a reedy voice said right behind him. He didn¡¯t jump. The orphanage¡¯s elderly matron, Miss Farrin, had always been light on her feet. ¡°Great! Did they do their homework?¡± he asked. ¡°Hmph. A few of them did, sure. With most of them, you¡¯ll just have to hope for the best with what you can drill into them.¡± She sighed. ¡°Did you finally get your back pay?¡± Bernt smiled. ¡°Not yet. The castellan¡¯s office is never open when I¡¯m off work. The only time I can collect my pay is during my lunch break¡ªand only if the castellan¡¯s secretary happens to not be taking hers at the time.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you get them to deposit it for you at the bank?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s hardly worth doing the job if you¡¯re not going to get paid for it, you know.¡± He did get paid whenever he managed to catch the castellan¡¯s secretary in her office. Only a handful of silver each month, but all of it went directly to his savings. Every little bit counted. ¡°I know, but it¡¯s important,¡± Bernt said. ¡°Somebody has to do it. They deserve to be given a chance.¡± ¡°Sure, but why you?¡± Farrin pressed. ¡°This was an opportunity for you when you were a student, but now? You¡¯re a professional with a safe job and a reliable income. You should be spending your evenings meeting young women and making the most of what you have and are.¡± Bernt frowned. ¡°They look down on us, the others. They think we¡¯re incompetent or criminals. That we¡¯re less than they are¡ªthe dregs. I¡¯m not going to accept that.¡± Farrin sighed. ¡°Who, Bernie?¡± she asked, voice tinged with exasperation¡ªthis wasn¡¯t the first time they¡¯d had this exact conversation. ¡°Who actually thinks that? The magefinders took you out of here and gave you the same education that every other mage in the kingdom gets. And look at you!¡± She gestured at him proudly. ¡°You made it!¡± Bernt didn¡¯t feel like he¡¯d made it anywhere. Not yet. ¡°I¡¯m an Underkeeper¡ªbarely a mage at all, as far as they¡¯re concerned,¡± he said bitterly. She didn¡¯t understand¡ªcouldn¡¯t, really. As far as Farrin was concerned, a mage was a mage. Who cared what their robes looked like if they could do magic. Bernt knew better, though. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Farrin harrumphed at him. ¡°You¡¯re still very young, Bernie. One of these days, you¡¯re going to have to learn to stop looking at yourself through the eyes of people who don¡¯t matter.¡± Bernt rolled his eyes. ¡°These people do matter! Why do you think this place is so underfunded?¡± Farrin waved her hand at him dismissively. ¡°Don¡¯t argue with your elders, boy. Go teach the kids your lesson. You can¡¯t expect them to sit in there just waiting for you forever.¡± *** Bernt lived down in the lower city, in a former warehouse next to the river docks that had been converted into tenements. It was a bad part of town¡ªeven worse than the one the orphanage was in¡ªbut that didn¡¯t concern him too much. The gangs didn¡¯t bother people who stayed out of their business, and muggers generally avoided anyone who wore mages¡¯ robes, no matter how shabby they might have been. The only thing that mattered to him was that he could rent a room here for twelve silver a month. He even had a fairly nice view of the river¡¯s largest dock, one built on a few ancient stone pillars that rose from the waters, cutting through the current. They were all that remained of the ruined bridge that the city of Halfbridge was named for. What happened to the other half, and who had built the original bridge, was lost to history. There was nothing but monsters and a few haunted ruins on the other side of the river. Humans had never lived there at all, as far as Bernt knew. Unsealing the protective ward on the door to his room, Bernt then entered and settled down on a comfortable cushion before pulling out the box. He could guess what was in it, but he still held his breath as he opened the catch. A wand rested on soft velvet, wrapped in a scrap of paper. He removed the paper and ran his fingers over the wood, taking it in. It was fragrant and reddish with a slight charred effect¡ªlightning-struck cedar, most likely. The entire length was carved with runes and channels designed to focus mana smoothly, to improve casting time and mana efficiency while casting. The design was elegant, deceptively simple and incredibly efficient. As he examined the runes more closely, though, his hands trembled. This wasn¡¯t just a general-purpose wand. This was a weapon, made to maximize the destructive potential of the spells cast through it. Specifically, fire spells. It was a military-grade pyromancer¡¯s wand, the type that a war mage would carry¡ªor an adventurer. Bernt snatched the paper up from the floor. Sure enough, it was a note. Hi Bernt, I told Syrah, our healer, what happened. She kept a sample of the slime, and we managed to match it to samples from old Julian¡¯s shop. So, now he¡¯s going to be footing the bill for that Teresian burn specialist! Long story short, you took some real pressure off of our budget. Anyway, I might have mentioned that you¡¯re looking to get into the adventuring business, and we decided to invest in your future a bit. We issued a quest to find the source of the slimes and turned it in under your name for the reward that we posted for it. Congratulations, you¡¯re a shiny new rank 1 adventurer! You¡¯re welcome. - Therion He¡¯d told him that he didn¡¯t want his charity. That bastard. But¡­ it was a quest reward¡ªfor something that he had actually done. Sure, the quest didn¡¯t exist at the time, and it wasn¡¯t dangerous in the least. But¡­ did that matter? He was a registered adventurer. Technically, anyway. This was a big step in the right direction. He eyed the wand critically. He¡¯d have to strap a holster onto his arm so he could store it in his sleeve. There was no way he could leave something so valuable lying around in his room, and carrying it on his belt was just asking for trouble from every pickpocket in town. He¡¯d keep using his old wand for work. Pushing mana through the wand, he cast a fire shield around himself, marveling at how quickly and easily the spell formed. It was a complex weave that required the caster to generate a double temperature barrier to contain intense heat. Failing to do so correctly could burn the target¡ªhimself¡ªor allow the heat to quickly dissipate into his surroundings, which would turn the spell into something closer to a poorly controlled fire nova. In practical terms, that usually translated to a long cast time. Without using a focus, Bernt could cast a fire shield in about twenty seconds. Once he adjusted to this wand, though, he could see himself having one up in just three or four seconds. That wasn¡¯t necessarily fast enough to cast while some monster was trying to eat your face, but it was good enough to use actively in a party context. Excitement fluttered in his chest, but Bernt pushed it down. He still had a long way to go. Even relatively modest adventuring robes with basic defensive enchantments cost upwards of eighty gold¡ªhe might barely be able to scrape that together with what he¡¯d managed to save over the past four years, but that still didn¡¯t cover consumables, good traveling boots, a bag of holding, or general supplies. He still had another year to go at least, more likely two. But it was a real start, finally. His daydreaming was interrupted by a soft scritching sound at his window. Moving quickly, he briefly opened it to let Jori in and cast a cleaning spell on her as she clambered over the sill so she wouldn¡¯t stink up the place. Chirping at him proudly, she hopped down and dropped a headless and slightly chewed-up rat at his feet. Gross. At least now he could make more imp treats. She would eat them raw, too, but he knew she preferred them dried and extra spicy. She flitted over to the small cast-iron stove and curled up next to it, hissing at him insistently. Obliging, he packed the stove with a bit of wood and lit it with a quick fire cantrip. Imps didn¡¯t need a hot environment to survive, but he¡¯d found that Jori at least preferred it. Or maybe she just wanted him to get on with making that jerky. 4. Missing Persons After the alchemist incident, things mostly returned to normal. Bernt did his rounds, cleaning out blockages, chasing down the odd leftover slime, and, on one memorable afternoon, incinerating an entire nest of mutant rat men. They had been living in the tunnels underneath the dockside market. That is, until Jori stumbled across them during a routine sweep of the area. In his free time he kept working on his spellcasting basics. Thanks to his familiar¡¯s support, he also often managed to free up an hour or two during his workday to practice with the new wand. That was good, because there weren¡¯t a lot of places in the city where someone could safely cast destructive fire magic without raising any alarms¡ªor burning down a neighborhood. The largest sewer mains in the lower city, near the river, were important exceptions. They were broad tunnels that nearly spanned the width of the entire street above. They also had narrow walkways along one side, so he didn¡¯t have to wade through the sludge¡ªthe smell was bad enough without actually standing in it. Training here was no problem as long as he made sure that the ventilation was clear, so there weren¡¯t any flammable pockets of gas. That was a mistake he¡¯d only made once. He managed to protect himself, but a geyser of flame still shot up into the street and set fire to a nearby pile of garbage. Fortunately, he was the one Ed ended up sending to look into the matter, so he just shelved the investigation as inconclusive. Things were going well. Very well, even. Until one morning, Bernt showed up at headquarters to find nearly all of the Underkeepers, seven of them, assembled in the room. They were never all here at once. On paper, everyone started at the same time every morning, but in practice it didn¡¯t matter. As long as they finished their assignments, Ed didn¡¯t care when they showed up. Most of the older Underkeepers were early risers¡ªthe sewers ran a bit lower before dawn, before the populace started adding their morning effluent to the flow. Ed scowled at him in greeting. ¡°Nice of you to join us.¡± Bernt was very nearly the last one to arrive. Since he didn¡¯t have to walk the sewers very much on an average day, he didn¡¯t see any reason to sacrifice perfectly good sleep. What was going on? Had they found out about Jori? No, it couldn¡¯t be. Looking around at the faces of everyone assembled, Bernt saw impatience and a bit of worry, but nothing accusing or suspicious. Besides, it wasn¡¯t that big of a deal. It was totally legal. Ed would probably just grumble at him and double his workload if he found out. Hells, even if he were a warlock. The Underkeepers couldn¡¯t be picky. ¡°Where¡¯s Dayle?¡± he asked. At least he wasn¡¯t the last person to arrive. That was a little strange, though. Dayle was one of the aforementioned early risers, a friendly type who trained Bernt back when he¡¯d first swallowed his pride to join the infamous muck mages. He¡¯d had to swallow it further once he realized that he wasn¡¯t just the youngest, but also the least competent mage in the entire organization. It was Dayle who¡¯d taught him just how underrated the mages who made up their order really were, and who¡¯d helped him turn his previously academic practice of magic to real, practical use. Dayle should have been here by now. Ed sighed. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re here for. Dayle didn¡¯t check in to submit his report yesterday, and he didn¡¯t come in this morning. Kustov went to check on him at home, but he isn¡¯t there, either. We¡¯ve got a man missing. We¡¯re going to trace his route yesterday and see if we can figure out what happened.¡± Fiora, the only woman among the Underkeepers, frowned at that, long lines creasing her weathered face. ¡°Did you get the guards involved? This sounds like something they¡¯re supposed to handle. Or at least know about.¡± Ed nodded to her in a way that made Bernt think he¡¯d expected this question. ¡°I already sent a runner to the guard. But it¡¯ll take them at least a few days to even start an investigation, never mind launching a search party.¡± Disgust practically dripped from his voice. ¡°Nobody up there is going to rush to crawl through the sewers looking for a missing muck mage, or anyone, for that matter. If he¡¯s alive and in trouble, then it¡¯s up to us to get him out.¡± Most of the Underkeepers had a complicated history with either the Mages¡¯ Guild, the nobility or the military¡ªa history that ultimately landed them in their current profession. As far as Bernt knew, he and Uriah were the only members of the order who had actually applied to be there on purpose. Ed, as far as he had been able to work out, had a very difficult relationship with the City Guard Commander. What an archmage might have done to a City Guard force that would get him exiled to the Underkeepers remained a mystery, though. This was bad. Mundane maintenance workers might sometimes fall prey to a mutant rat, a sewer crocodile, or a slime, but Underkeepers didn¡¯t just go missing. The sewers were their second home¡ªtheir smelly, cold and damp second home, but still. Nothing there seriously threatened them. Any individual mage should be more than enough to handle anything they ran across beneath the streets. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°We¡¯re going to run a search in teams of two. When you find Dayle, or evidence of what happened to him, you¡¯re going to activate one of these.¡± Ed held up four runed pebbles, one for each team. ¡°Hey¡­ what are these?¡± asked Kustov, reaching out a hand for one. As a dwarf, he was almost as interested in rocks as he was in runecraft. ¡°They¡¯re beacons. Activate one, and all of the others will light up and gently pull toward it. Now, quit interrupting. We need to get out there.¡± *** Bernt trudged along behind Fiora as sewage slowly seeped through the seams of his not-quite-watertight boots. He listened to the dull thud of her short walking staff, her magical focus, as she used it to probe the disgusting waters ahead. He¡¯d forgotten just how awful it could be wading through the sludge for hours on end. With Jori¡¯s help, he rarely spent more than ten minutes at a time standing in the black water. Of course, he wasn¡¯t going to reveal her existence just to avoid a bit of work. Not that he was going to stake Dayle¡¯s survival on his own inaction, either. He owed the man for showing him the ropes and for bailing him out more than once when he got in over his head citing someone too important to penalize. Their profession involved more politics than a maintenance job had any right to. Jori ranged out ahead of them, rapidly checking every nook and cranny for signs of recent passage. Bernt reasoned that, if she found something, he could just pretend that he heard or saw something to lead them in the right direction. They were nearing the end of their assigned section when Fiora stopped so suddenly that Bernt bumped into her. ¡°Someone¡¯s got something,¡± she said, already pushing him back. ¡°Back up, let¡¯s climb out over here. It¡¯s pulling over to the right¡ªprobably Yarrod and Ed over in Smiths¡¯ Lane.¡± Hurrying back, Bernt scrambled up the wrought iron ladder set into the nearest shaft. Smiths¡¯ Lane was at the very edge of the upper city, up against the city walls. Blacksmiths were craftspeople of status and usually wealthy enough to make it out of the lower city, but the noise and smoky nature of their craft meant they couldn¡¯t set up shop next to a minor noble or wealthy merchant, either. As a result, they¡¯d carved out a small slice of the city for themselves to serve the steady stream of adventurers, citizens, and military quartermasters who came to them for tools, weapons, and building supplies. Going through the sewers would have required wading around for nearly ten minutes, but at street level, a quick shortcut through a nearby alley brought them close enough to hear the ringing of hammers. A minute later they were climbing back down another shaft to enter near the end of Ed and Yarrod¡¯s search area. Bernt knew immediately that something was wrong. As soon as they reached the base of the ladder, they could see light shining around the corner, which was¡­ not standard practice. Why bother? ¡°Yarrod? Ed?¡± Fiora called out. ¡°Did you find him?¡± ¡°Here!¡± came Ed¡¯s voice, a bit strained. As they rounded the corner, a new smell hit Bernt¡¯s nostrils, mixing with the already foul odor of the sewers. It was sour and metallic, and he could guess where it came from. Ed was propped awkwardly up against the wall, illuminated by a blinding ball of light that he¡¯d conjured¡ªa light cantrip, but a much better one than Bernt could manage himself. His boss was pinned to the stone wall by two metal spikes that had apparently shot out from the other side of the wall with incredible force, one going straight through his belly. A trap of some kind. Who was laying traps in the sewers of all places? While he was staring, Fiora moved. Whipping her black staff back and forth in a complex motion, she sent both spikes shooting out of the man to clatter against the far walls from which they came. Before Bernt could protest that Ed was only going to bleed out even faster now, she¡¯d already caught him and pulled out an expensive-looking vial, her staff clattering to the floor. ¡°Drink it, quick!¡± Belatedly, Bernt picked up her staff as Ed gulped it down. It was a healing potion¡ªa good one, too. Fiora must have been carrying it on the job as an emergency measure. He doubted she¡¯d be able to replace it anytime soon. ¡°What happened?¡± Bernt asked when, a moment later, Ed leaned back against the wall with a relieved groan. ¡°We got ambushed. They took Yarrod and came down this way. When I went after them, I got hit. Kobold bastards and their traps.¡± Fiora frowned. ¡°Shit. We need to go after them, right now. The others should be here soon. They¡¯re going to torture him first, but he¡¯ll be dead if we don¡¯t hurry.¡± Bernt looked back and forth between Fiora and Ed, puzzled. ¡°What do you mean? Why bother abducting him if they¡¯re just going to kill him? And there¡¯s no point in torturing him¡­ what could they possibly want to know from us?¡± Ed scowled and stood up, rather energetically for someone who¡¯d been impaled just moments before. ¡°Yarrod¡¯s a gnome, and they¡¯re kobolds,¡± he said, as if that explained everything. ¡°They don¡¯t need any other reason.¡± Pulling his pipe out of a pocket, Ed then began flourishing it in precise patterns, casting more balls of blinding light and sending them down the tunnels to illuminate the filthy sewers much more thoroughly than one ever should. Then he put the end in his mouth and pulled on it, apparently lighting it with a thought, as smoke began to rise. ¡°Kobolds don¡¯t like bright lights,¡± he said by way of explanation. ¡°Get down there and see if you can find where they came in. The sewers are supposed to be a closed system, but they¡¯ll have tunneled in somewhere under the walls.¡± Bernt was still staring at Ed¡¯s pipe. Was it a spellcasting focus, like a wand? Who would even make something like that? Dismissing the thought, Bernt sent a feeling of caution through his bond with Jori. He didn¡¯t want her getting too close, or running afoul of any kobolds herself. He wasn¡¯t sure how they would react to a demon¡ªhe hadn¡¯t studied the intelligent subterranean races much. After years of sewer work, he wasn¡¯t about to waste his adventuring career crawling around underground. Jori wasn¡¯t far. She slowed and he sensed her eyeing the walls suspiciously. 2.1 Apartment Hunting ¡°Look, I''m sorry. I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t offer you a lease at this time.¡± The sweaty, balding dwarf said with a professionally pained expression on his face. It was warm and muggy in the property manager¡¯s little office and it smelled like he hadn¡¯t cracked the room¡¯s tiny window in weeks. ¡°Ah. That¡¯s¡­ too bad," Bernt sighed tiredly and tried not to let frustration leak into his voice. "Why is that?" He already knew the answer. He¡¯d heard it often enough in the past few weeks. But, he figured it was worth making him say it to his face. ¡°Well. We checked your references, and the building¡¯s owner felt that you aren¡¯t a good fit.¡± The man fidgeted with his pen, flipping it over his thumb and accidentally spraying a bit of ink onto his desk. ¡°We have a strict pet policy, you see¡­¡± ¡°And you heard that there was an underkeeper running around with a pet demon.¡± Bernt finished for him, losing his patience. ¡°Yes, yes, I understand the situation.¡± Another morning wasted on one of his rare days off, and he¡¯d spent it filling out paperwork, waiting pointlessly while the property manager processed his application and pretending all the while that he didn¡¯t notice the unpleasantly musty scent of damp, unwashed dwarf that filled the room. The damned little man had had the nerve to wrinkle his nose at him when he came in. As if he hadn''t just sanitized his stained Underkeepers'' robes and boots. Rising, he nodded a little ungraciously at the man and made for the door. It¡¯s not that he didn¡¯t understand their reluctance. A fire-slinging demon could admittedly be considered a real risk ¨C never mind that neither demons nor the people who associated with them were generally celebrated in polite society. But he needed to live somewhere, and it wasn¡¯t as though he could just put Jori out on the street. Stewing in his frustration, Bernt made his way back to the inn where he¡¯d been staying for the past month ¨C ever since he¡¯d been evicted from his old home near the docks. The Minotaur¡¯s Head was located near the Adventurers¡¯ Guild and run by a retired mid-ranking adventurer. It was a fairly nice establishment that served traveling adventurers and foreigners of all kinds and it regularly housed people who were much more dangerous than a lowly lesser demon and a half-baked pyromancer. Word had gotten around about Jori and him. He¡¯d known it would happen, of course ¨C she wasn¡¯t incognito anymore, now that Ed and Iriala signed Jori¡¯s official paperwork. It was inevitable, and he¡¯d been prepared for the dirty looks from strangers out in the street. Unfortunately, he hadn¡¯t really considered the more literal cost. Living at an inn was not affordable and he was cutting into his savings just to keep a roof over his head. He needed to find a solution soon, but he had precious few places left to look. Bernt had briefly even considered creating his own home from scratch. He could tunnel out an entire complex of rooms under the city if he wanted. But, that wasn¡¯t a real solution. It would be illegal, for one, and he was a government employee. Worse, living in what amounted to a lair in the sewers would make him the walking stereotype of a rogue warlock and ruin whatever credibility or goodwill he ever managed to build for himself and Jori. But, most importantly, he just didn''t feel comfortable in enclosed, underground spaces since he''d been trapped inside the dungeon a month earlier. He would get over it, he was sure. Eventually. But he wasn''t ready to sleep like that, buried in stone. No, he needed to do this right. And that meant he would have to find a landlord who genuinely didn¡¯t mind having a demon under their roof. Bernt sighed. He¡¯d just have to keep trying. For now, though, he had another appointment to keep, as much as he would have preferred to go home and crawl under a blanket. He absolutely wasn¡¯t in the mood to get his ass kicked right now. ¨C-------- Holding his wand out to the side, Bernt began humming under his breath, shaping a spell. Therion was standing across from him in the small training arena in the Upper District, a small metal wand held at the ready. Hopefully, the other mage wouldn¡¯t be able to hear him. On the sidelines, Oren and Elyn were betting whether he¡¯d land a hit this time. Bernt had stopped trying to fight fair weeks ago, once he finally understood just how wide the skill-gap between the two of them really was. Therion wasn¡¯t any older than him, but he¡¯d been learning to fight since before he¡¯d even learned to touch his own mana. Compared to him, Bernt was a rank amateur. Without moving a muscle, Bernt finished casting his first spell. His burning rain investiture didn¡¯t have much of an effect on his whispering wind cantrip, but it did do something. Instead of a simple whisper carried on the wind, Therion was treated to the sudden and disturbing sound of someone whispering nonsense into his ear, accompanied by the sensation of hot, humid breath on the back of his neck and his left ear, where he knew nobody should be standing. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. He flinched, half-turning, and Bernt savagely pressed his advantage. He flicked his wand forward to cast a fire dart, followed by a glue cantrip to try to lock his opponent in place. He didn¡¯t fully load the spellforms with mana ¨C they wouldn¡¯t seriously injure anyone, but a direct hit from a fire dart would still burn and raise blisters. Anything less and the spells wouldn¡¯t manifest. He was much faster than he¡¯d been just a few weeks ago, but it didn¡¯t matter. Nothing landed. Therion turned his startled flinch into a step, avoiding the fire dart that struck the spot where he¡¯d been standing before. At the same time, he whipped his own wand in a quick circular motion, casting a magic missile in an arc to force Bernt to move. He stepped to his left and raised his focus, but felt something grab his ear and pull up savagely. With a yelp, he dropped the wand. ¡°Agh, shit!¡± The spell released him, and he turned his head just in time to see the conjured phantom hand disappear. Therion was a terror with that mage hand, even if it was embarrassing more than actually painful. Oren passed a coin to Elyn, glowering at Bernt. ¡°Come on, Bernt! This is the second time he¡¯s done that today.¡± he groused. Therion waved a hand at the thief. ¡°Oh, leave him alone,¡± he said. ¡°Bernt, that was pretty great! That wind spell was insane, I thought you had backup for a second there. That one can definitely work in a fight if you use it at the right moment.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Bernt said, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. ¡°It didn¡¯t do much to you, though. I need to come up with something better.¡± Therion scoffed. ¡°No, you don¡¯t. You¡¯re doing fine. You have all the spells you need, and you¡¯re being creative with what you have. The rest of dueling is mostly about anticipating your opponent. That¡¯s something you can only learn with practice¨C¡± ¡°¨Cand by getting my ass kicked over and over again, yes. I remember.¡± Bernt finished. ¡°Right!¡± Therion nodded, smiling. He looked over to where the spectators were sitting. ¡°Oren¡±, he called. ¡°You want to have a go?¡± Oren stood up, drawing a wooden practice dagger and poking it down into a small bag at his feet to dust it with red chalk along the blade. ¡°I thought you¡¯d never ask.¡± Moments later, Bernt stood facing the thief with his wand held out in one hand and the other behind his back, tracing a spellform. ¡°Thief¡±, of course, was a bit of a misnomer. People in Oren¡¯s line of work were generally called thieves because they were responsible for getting their party into places they weren¡¯t supposed to be. According to his friends, a surprising amount of adventuring involved going places where one wasn¡¯t technically allowed to be, even outside of dungeons. In actuality, though, any ¡°thief¡± in the Adventurers¡¯ Guild also doubled as a scout, trap-maker and disassembler, and assassin. While Oren wasn¡¯t as dangerous in a straight fight as someone like Furin, he was shockingly fast. Worse, he had a way of breaking his line of sight and then disappearing in ways that couldn¡¯t possibly be natural. Usually, Bernt wouldn¡¯t see him again until that stupid wooden dagger was drawing a red line of chalk across his throat. So far, Bernt had never even come close to landing a spell on Oren, but that was going to change today. As the lesser fighter, starting the fight was up to him. Sweat beading on his forehead from trying to hold up the mental image of one spellform while casting another, Bernt cast a fire dart toward Oren. It wasn¡¯t well-aimed, and Oren didn¡¯t even try to dodge. With a slight frown, Oren exploded into motion, but he wasn¡¯t faster than the speed of thought. Bernt had prepared his response ahead of time. He released mana into the spellform, activating it. With a rushing whomp of displaced air, heat erupted outward from him in all directions. This low-power version of a fire-nova was practically invisible, but at close range it was still hot enough to sting and singe eyebrows. He wasn¡¯t sure if Oren had any resistance to fire, but he was pretty sure that would count as a win. If Oren had been standing close enough, that is. Bernt looked around, but didn¡¯t see the thief anywhere. Oh no. Did he escape somehow? How could he have possibly moved so quickly? The last he¡¯d seen, Oren was advancing on him at speed. Now, he was just gone. Out of the corner of his eye, Bernt saw something flicker. He threw himself to his side, down onto the ground and heard a soft whistle as something cut through the space above his head. He rolled over and pushed himself up. Oren would be on him at any moment. ¡°Agh!¡± Oren shouted in surprise and stumbled forward into Bernt¡¯s field of view. He¡¯d been right behind him, of course. Not for the first time, Bernt wondered how he did that. There was magic involved, he was sure, but not anything like what mages used. When he asked, the thief always just told him it was ¡°trade secrets¡±. What was more interesting right now was the imp clinging to Oren¡¯s head and hissing at him threateningly. She stood on his shoulders and held onto his head with both hands, one long, clawed finger poised right in front of his eye. ¡°Stop, stop!¡± he called out, and slapped at Jori in annoyance. ¡°You little shit. I had him!¡± Jori hopped off, spreading her wings for a short moment before landing next to Bernt. ¡°I win!¡± she gloated, jumping up and down excitedly. ¡°I outsneaked the sneaky thief. You didn¡¯t see me coming!¡± Oren frowned sourly down at her. ¡°You cheated! This was supposed to be a duel, not a free-for-all. If you want to try that again, I¡¯ll show you how much your sneaking is really worth.¡± ¡°No time!¡± Jori replied, grinning triumphantly. ¡°I¡¯m here to get Bernt. We need to see the Great Ed! He called for us.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Jori said, shrugging her shoulders. ¡°He said he had a job for you.¡± ¡°On my day off?¡± Bernt groaned. ¡°We need to form a union.¡± 2.2 Expansion ¡°We¡¯re recruiting,¡± Ed said, handing Bernt a stack of fliers. ¡°I had a meeting with Magistrate Gerold this morning and we¡¯re expanding. If what I¡¯m hearing from Iriala about the duergar is true, we need to move quickly.¡± ¡°Expanding?¡± Bernt blinked and looked down at the fliers. ¡°I assume it¡¯s not about improving sewer maintenance¡­¡± Ed gave him what almost looked like an actual smile. ¡°No. We¡¯re being permanently classified as a second city guard force, reporting directly to the count. Narald wants someone down in the tunnels to keep an eye on general Arice, and we¡¯re in the best position for it, since I was running the defense before the army arrived. Officially, we¡¯re being empowered to manage security in the newly designated ¡°Undercity¡±.¡± Bernt stared at his boss. ¡°Uh¡­ What do you mean by Undercity, exactly?¡± he asked, ¡°And does that make us a branch of the city guard?¡± ¡°Heh, no," Ed coughed out a smoky laugh. "Righmond didn¡¯t want anything to do with this. A few citizens, mostly dwarves and a few goblins, requested permission to take possession of some chambers down in the tunnels ¨C we might even expand it a bit. This makes us an entirely separate guard force to manage the new subterranean frontier ¨C everything below street level, essentially.¡± Bernt blinked, surprised by the news. ¡°So¡­ does this mean we¡¯re being freed from sewer-duty?¡± Ed snorted. ¡°Of course not. It¡¯s tradition. The king himself has occasionally exiled mages to the Underkeepers. He¡¯d probably interfere personally if a lesser noble dared to redefine our order''s holy purpose like that. Narald is taking a big risk with this as it is.¡± Bernt started to respond, but Ed interrupted him with a wave, pointing at the fliers. ¡°I want you two to pin these up on lantern poles around the city and see if any of the guard stations will let you put them up on their doors. We need capable fighters down in those tunnels, and ideally some people with a bit of engineering skill. It¡¯s going to take some work to make those tunnels livable and I need people knocking down the door to help us get it done yesterday. I already called in everybody else who I could spare. You''re starting in the Lower District, but don''t hesitate to post fliers elsewhere as long as nobody else has gotten there first.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Bernt replied, but then hesitated. ¡°Uh, Ed? Does this mean we have a budget? Are we going to be properly armed for this?¡± If he could get some proper fighting equipment through the Underkeepers, he¡¯d be in a much better position, overall. He could afford to look into more expensive places to live, for one. Or, if he really tightened his belt, he might even be able to afford membership to the Mages¡¯ Guild. Ed nodded. ¡°Some, yes. Not nearly enough, of course, but it never is.¡± ¡°Great!¡± Bernt smiled and nodded. He headed out the door at a measured pace with Jori on his heels, trying not to look too excited at the news. He didn¡¯t really want to consider it, but there was another opportunity here as well. If he really had to, he might be able to find a place to live down in this new Undercity ¨C once it was made livable, at least. He shivered at the thought and his stomach twinged unpleasantly. He didn¡¯t want to live underground if he could help it. The memory of being trapped down there, hiding from kobold patrols and desperate to escape, was still fresh in his mind. But it was something. Maybe. ¨C------- Unsure of where to start, Bernt headed for the guard station nearest to the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters with Jori. Ed had started sending her out on tasks alone sometimes over the past few weeks, but she still didn¡¯t go wandering around alone in plain sight, where everyone could see her. There were people out there who might react violently to a lone demon wandering around. Worse, they both knew that whatever rogue warlock had originally summoned Jori was still out there ¨C and he¡¯d already tried to send something to kill her once. It was best to be careful. They posted two of the fliers at busy-looking street-corners as they went. The guard station was a small building positioned right at the unofficial border between the lower administrative district and the crafter¡¯s district. Bernt found a man sitting in front of the door when they arrived at the guard station and waved to get his attention. ¡°Hey there!¡± he called, trying to sound friendly. ¡°Can I ask you for a favor?¡± The guard didn¡¯t look familiar, which he supposed wasn¡¯t unusual. He¡¯d made the acquaintance of several city guards during and after the kobold invasion a month ago, but there were hundreds of guards in the city. This one was a grizzled-looking senior guardsman, probably the one in charge of the station here. He leaned back casually on a stool, back to the wall of the building, but his eyes were alert and flicked from Bernt to Jori and back to Bernt again. ¡°Underkeeper.¡± The man replied by way of greeting. He leaned his head to the side in a noncommittal gesture and scratched at his short, scruffy gray beard. ¡°That all depends on the favor. What do you want?¡± Bernt held up the flier. ¡°I¡¯d like to pin up one of my fliers on your door. We¡¯re hiring.¡± The man grunted and leaned forward, peering at the paper to read it. ¡°Well. How about that. Seeking sanitation engineers, military veterans, retired adventurers yadda yadda for permanent positions¡­ maintenance, security and law enforcement in the ¡°Halfbridge Undercity¡±. What¡¯s all that about?¡± ¡°New expansion project from the count.¡± Bernt explained, trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about. ¡°I guess he didn¡¯t want to burden the guard with it, but they¡¯re going to settle part of the former dungeon. The bits that they can claim are technically within city limits, most likely.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± the man grunted. ¡°Fair enough. But no. We¡¯re hiring too, over here. We lost a lot of people in the attack. If I let you start recruiting right from my front door¡­ well, that¡¯s just getting in my own way." He leaned back against the wall and adjusted the short sword on his belt to keep it from getting caught on his stool. "Not going to happen.¡± Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Bernt didn¡¯t really know what to say to that ¨C the man had a point. He nodded at him and turned to go to find Jori pinning a flier to a lantern pole less than ten steps away, behind a small cart that someone had parked at the side of the street. The guard couldn''t see her very well from his position. Looking away quickly, he started to walk away. Jori would catch up. ¡°Hey kid,¡± the guard called after him. Bernt turned, trying not to look guilty. "Yeah?" He hadn''t done anything wrong. This was a public street, it wasn''t illegal to put up a flier. There was no reason to feel nervous right now. ¡°Far as I know the stations in the Upper District didn¡¯t lose anyone at all. Lots of retired adventurers up there, too. You should check with them.¡± Bernt inclined his head, thanked the man and continued on his way, breathing a small sigh of relief. He was not going to the Upper District, though. That was terrible advice. Why bother trying to recruit wealthy retirees? He would work his way through the Lower District over toward the Gateside Market. He didn¡¯t know where to find unemployed engineers, but there were hundreds of former adventurers in the city, and most of those weren¡¯t rolling in gold coins like those in the Upper District. Many retired out of necessity, or simply because their families got tired of them being gone all the time and in danger. Of course, being an underkeeper wasn¡¯t danger-free either. The sewers regularly spawned mutant creatures and slimes, and served as an entry-point to the city for more dangerous things that tried to crawl up the drainage system from the river. Still, it might be a good option for a former adventurer. The stigma that followed the Underkeepers wouldn''t necessarily transfer to non-mages. The original underkeepers had been Mage Academy wash-outs, too incompetent for the military or the guild, but good enough to clean up the sorts of things that tended to cause problems for common guards. From there, exiling real mages to the Underkeepers had quickly developed as a way to retroactively mark them as failures ¨C politically or socially if not truly in practice of their craft. But that wouldn''t really apply a washed up adventurer ¨C how could it? Any social or political connections who cared about that sort of thing were completely irrelevant to them. And that was probably exactly what Ed was banking on. ¡°We are going to the market?¡± Jori said, interpreting his intentions through their bond. Bernt nodded in confirmation. Former adventurers who weren''t already part of the guard would be crafters, merchants or even common laborers. And the best place to apply years of adventuring experience while working in some different field was to do so adjacent to the adventuring industry ¨C at or near the Gateside Market. ¡°I think we can find more applicants around there than in the upper district, at least.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Jori agreed. ¡°We should talk to Grixit!¡± Bernt missed a step and turned to look at Jori, who kept walking without him. ¡°What?¡± He hurried to catch up. ¡°Why Grixit? Jori, he¡¯s not going to want to be an underkeeper.¡± Jori snorted. ¡°The boss said that dwarves and goblins wanted to move into the underground. If they want to live there, then they will probably work there, too! He can show the flier to other goblins. It makes sense!¡± Considering it, Bernt couldn''t really find fault with her logic. It was a strange idea ¨C there were no goblins in the regular city guard ¨C but why shouldn''t there be? It was worth a try, at least. ¡°Yea, alright,¡± he conceded. ¡°But let¡¯s stop by that guard station over by the Adventurers¡¯ Guild first.¡± They wouldn¡¯t all turn him down, he was sure. Bernt had his doubts that goblins would actually want to fight for the Beseri government. Their people had a long and very unpleasant history with the Beseri military. On the other hand, the Underkeepers were not the military, and if they knew they were going to be guarding other goblin civilians... Maybe it would work. ¨C------ Grixit stared down at the flier thoughtfully, then looked up at Bernt with furrowed brows. ¡°There aren¡¯t any goblins in the city guard, you know. Not that I ever heard. Do you think they¡¯d really hire any of us?¡± Bernt threw a glance over at Jori. ¡°Well, maybe. I think so. We¡¯re not the city guard, so why wouldn¡¯t we? And this new Undercity sounds like it¡¯s going to house goblins and dwarves, mostly. Why wouldn¡¯t there be goblin guards?¡± Grixit scoffed derisively, but the effect was spoiled a bit by the smile that he¡¯d failed to suppress. ¡°You know exactly why, you big idiot. But it¡¯s worth a try, maybe.¡± ¡°Great!¡± Bernt said, smiling. This might actually work. Since Jori had suggested it about an hour ago, Bernt had warmed up to the idea more and more. Goblins were used to working underground. And while they weren¡¯t dwarves, they also had experience building underground infrastructure. Moreover, they were treated as an underclass in Besermark, so the prospect of a steady government job with reasonable wages would probably be a lot more enticing to them than your average applicant. That, and unlike for everyone else, becoming an underkeeper might actually improve their social and political status. The goblin finished examining the flier and set it down on his table with a little grunt. ¡°Hmph. I¡¯ll keep your flier and show it around a bit. But¡­ you can see what the count is doing with this, right?¡± Grixit said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah.¡± Bernt replied, nodding. ¡°He¡¯s trying to put us in closer proximity to the army, so he can get a better look at what general Arice is doing in the dungeon. That, and he¡¯ll probably want us to try to get first-hand information about duergar activity near the city. I can¡¯t imagine that he likes having all of his news filtered through the military.¡± Grixit snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t care about that! No. I mean this new Undercity.¡± He pointed a knobby finger straight down. ¡°That dungeon is a new foreign border, and it¡¯s directly on the city¡¯s doorstep. That¡¯s a real danger for the count¡¯s precious citizens ¨C the ones that pay lots of taxes and have influence. Now, he¡¯s ¡®letting¡¯ a bunch of non-humans move into that new border region. The poorest and least important ones, naturally ¨C the ones that don¡¯t own homes or can¡¯t find a better place to live. Are you getting it?¡± Bernt swallowed. He hadn¡¯t really thought about it like that. ¡°You mean it¡¯s meant to be a buffer population, to help keep the rest of the city safe.¡± Bernt said slowly, a queasy feeling growing in his stomach. ¡°They don¡¯t want enemies tunneling straight out of the ground with no warning again. So the count is going to put some people in the way. People who he can afford to lose without losing face at court.¡± Grixit nodded. ¡°Yup. And while no noble wants to lose combat-capable people, he¡¯s going to dump the cheapest and most politically expendable organization he can find down there to protect them ¨C you. And that¡¯s why they might actually let goblins join your new little guard organization.¡± Bernt groaned inwardly. Why did everything have to be so underhanded and, well¡­ screwed up? Did Ed know about this? The moment he considered it, he knew the answer. Of course Ed would know. The old man had looked like he just won a hundred gold in a game of cards. He and Iriala had probably cooked this whole thing up to legitimize and expand the Underkeepers. ¡°Oh, relax!¡± Grixit grinned at him. ¡°This is a good thing. It sounds like we¡¯re going to get some actual real estate, and that¡¯s nothing to sneeze at, no matter if there are enemies nearby. We know how to look after ourselves.¡± Then, a little reluctantly, he added. ¡°So do the dwarves, really. They don¡¯t get along with the duergar, either. And they build great underground defenses.¡± This was about trade-offs. Some people would get a free or cheap place to live, but if the duergar ever broke through the army¡¯s defenses, they¡¯d be the first to know. The Underkeepers got to develop the order into a more serious organization, but they¡¯d also be beneath the city guard, both literally and metaphorically. Separate, but serving the city¡¯s new literal underclass. 2.3 Preparations Bernt visualized the spellform in his mind, using a finger to trace it in the air from memory for the first time. He kept his eyes closed, both to help him concentrate and to keep himself from peeking at the scroll in his lap. He was sitting outside the gates, at his favorite studying spot down by the river. Jori was doing what she called ¡°training exercises¡± with her ¡°intern¡± ¨C a small kobold named Gnugg that she¡¯d taken under her wing after finding him in the dungeon last month. Surprisingly, both she and the kobold had proven less likely to get into trouble when they were spending time together. Farrin, the matron mother of the Halfbridge orphanage, had grudgingly allowed it at the kobold''s insistence. As a side benefit, this new arrangement meant that Bernt could finally get some uninterrupted free time to practice his spellcasting. Experimenting with new fire spells indoors was never a good idea, and he didn¡¯t actually know what this one did. What might ''cold fire'' be good for? Was it literally cold? There was no way to know without trying. He¡¯d asked Ed about it two weeks earlier and the archmage had just waved him off with a gruff ¡°Do I look like some kind of damned pyromancer wizard?¡± and sent him off on his rounds. Dayle didn¡¯t know either, nor Fiora. That either made it a rare and potentially very useful spell, or random garbage that someone had invented as an experiment or something. There was no way to know without trying it. Considering that Bernt had found it in a trash heap, he guessed it would likely be the latter. Still, it was a fire spell. Even if it was useless now, maybe he¡¯d be able to use some principle in its spellform to help him in the future. It had been far easier to untangle than the unfamiliar principles and bewildering runic configurations used in its uncastable transmutation spellforms. So, in an effort to finally push his capabilities further, he¡¯d spent the last two weeks meticulously memorizing the scroll. Testing was the next step. A mage didn''t technically have to trace the spellform in the air to cast a spell. In fact, no physical motion was required at all. Hand motions, whistling, humming, chanting, or whatever were just a mnemonic devices to help the caster visualize the spellform more perfectly. The runes and symbols that made up a spell didn¡¯t just have to be placed in their proper order, they had to be assembled into a two or three-dimensional image, depending on the spell, and each component had to be oriented and proportioned correctly for the spell to work properly. A focus could help with that a bit, but any significant mistake could cause it to fail, or worse, lead to unpredictable effects. To cast the spell properly now, though, he had to go further. Concentrating, he found the foreign elements that had installed themselves into the spellform ¨C the influence of his investiture ¨C and removed them one by one. By the time he finished, sweat was beading on his forehead, but he¡¯d done it. The spell was ready. With an effort of will, Bernt poured power into the spellform, activating it. Then, he mentally hurled it up and away from himself as he opened his eyes. A cone of blueish-gray flame erupted outward, shooting up into the air. It wasn¡¯t as bright as normal fire, nor as loud. Pyromancy was, as a rule, not a quiet form of magic. Conjured fire was usually accompanied by anything from a soft woosh to a thunderous boom, depending on the size of the flame and its heat. This spell, though, was silent. It also didn¡¯t seem to radiate any heat, which Bernt supposed would make sense for something called ¡°cold fire¡±. The spell was exactly what it sounded like. Fire, yes, but cold. That sounded both nonsensical to Bernt and useless. But, not releasing any heat didn¡¯t necessarily mean it couldn¡¯t burn anything. It was magic, after all. He should try casting it at something, maybe a bit of wood. Right at that moment, though, he didn¡¯t have the concentration to try casting it again. He got up, taking in the view as the sun set over the hills and threw his shadow out over the river behind him. It was beautiful, but he wouldn¡¯t take the time to enjoy it properly today. He needed to get something to eat and then continue his search for a new place to live. He¡¯d given up searching the area around the docks weeks ago ¨C Rina had apparently spread the word that he was some kind of dangerous warlock, or the same rumor that had seen him evicted had reached their ears. Now he¡¯d have to start looking outside the Lower District entirely, which was a problem. That was where all the cheap tenements were. He¡¯d have to try the crafters¡¯ district now. The temple district only housed priests and temple-employees, so that was a non-starter. The Upper District was out of the question ¨C even sleeping in someone¡¯s shed in the upper district would probably break his budget. It wasn¡¯t meant for people who spent their time on pedestrian things like work. Sure, someone like Therion or his dad might technically have jobs, but they didn¡¯t do them for the money. It hardly counted. ¨C-------- Ed sorted through the mail by urgency, giving each letter only a quick scan before putting it in the appropriate pile on his desk. A drain at a tannery just outside the walls had clogged, and the smell was driving nearby businesses to close their doors and file complaints with the count ¨C urgent. Someone had noticed that a grate covering a storm drain in the crafter¡¯s district was rusted through ¨C forward to city maintenance. The alchemists¡¯ guild was following up on an alchemical spill in the crafters¡¯ district. Someone had dumped a potion cocktail a few weeks ago that mutated a nest of cockroaches into some kind of monstrous parody of their more mundane selves. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Fortunately, the pests in question had promptly climbed through the pipes and infested the alchemy shop, rather than nearby residential homes ¨C not urgent. Besides, his Underkeepers weren¡¯t officially certified to deal with alchemical spills yet, anyway. Ed stared at the stack tiredly, hesitating for a moment. Then, he reached over and moved the complaint over to his ¡°urgent¡± pile. The cockroaches would multiply quickly. Besides, it had been over a month since Theresa¡¯s stupid stunt with Bernt ¨C he needed to get the certifications done or the magistrate would start breathing down his neck. Ashing his pipe in the bucket next to his desk, he repacked and lit it again, using the familiar ritual to soothe his nerves. It didn¡¯t really work. He was still pushing down his annoyance at the Alchemists¡¯ Guild as he opened the next letter and began scanning it, so it took him a moment to register that it wasn¡¯t just another job. Leaning back, he checked the header and then began to read it again carefully. It was a copy of an official message to Iriala from the head branch of the Mages¡¯ Guild in Teres. She or one of her people must have dropped off a copy for him while he was out. Archmage Iriala, Thank you for keeping me in the loop regarding the ongoing developments in Halfbridge. I spoke with Guildmaster Deirin of the Adventurers¡¯ Guild and I thought you might be interested to know that several parties have reported hostile encounters with small groups of duergar in the Azure Caverns and the Depths below. When I approached the Solicitors¡¯ office in Teres, they told me they were already investigating demonic activity in the Depths. Despite this, they seemed unwilling to definitively name the Duergar presence as its cause, as your local branch head apparently did. There are unconfirmed rumors of sightings beneath Loamfurth as well. Deirin is working to get more eyes down below to keep an eye on the situation as it develops, and we¡¯re working together to ensure that the more martial temple orders are at least making some quiet preparations for a large-scale conflict. The King has been made aware of the situation, but you know how long it can take for the court to move on a threat. Several guilds and prominent personages have already taken note and are quietly suggesting that we¡¯re looking for an excuse to arm up in order to grow our influence or even seize power from the nobility. I urge you to prepare, but be careful. We can¡¯t upset the political balance, or we¡¯ll be fighting each other by the time the Duergar come spilling out of the Depths. Best Regards Archmage Paolos Ed put the letter down with a snort. As if they needed the reminder. They were the ones with a Duergar army stationed less than a mile away, even if they had one of their own standing in the way. While several of their own local guilds were doing their best to give him a headache every damned day, nobody really doubted the threat that the dwarves represented. When he and Iriala had presented the idea of creating a new guard force to the count, the old count had practically jumped at the chance. Creating any kind of extraneous defense force was a dangerous move for a Beseri noble ¨C it might be considered a threat to the King¡¯s absolute authority over military matters, after all. So, Narald¡¯s eagerness and his willingness to take the risk said a lot about how seriously he was taking the Duergar threat. It, perhaps, said even more about his confidence in General Arice, who was tasked with protecting the city of Halfbridge from that threat. It likely didn¡¯t hurt that Iriala had gotten Guard Commander Righmond to sign off on the proposal before they presented it. The lump of a man wanted nothing to do with real work, never mind anything genuinely risky. He was more than happy to throw his weight behind the idea of putting the Underkeepers between his guard and the enemy army. Especially since failing to back the proposal would have put him in charge of security for Narald¡¯s new Undercity project by default. That would include not only spending a lot of time underground, it also meant liaising with the Beseri army on behalf of the Count. Considering how tense the relationship between the Count and general Arice already was, Righmond could be forgiven for his reluctance to take on that particular job. Ed didn¡¯t really want it either, but it was fine. Talking to annoying people was just the price of doing business. Now, Ed just had to hope that he¡¯d actually find some reasonably qualified applicants to join his new Underkeeper guard force. Who would possibly want to join an order that, until now, had served as little more than a convenient place to exile politically inconvenient mages? The archmages¡¯ stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn¡¯t had dinner yet and it was past time to leave all this crap for tomorrow. There was a new restaurant that a few sea elves from the Vorellian Isles had just opened in the Upper District and he found that he was in the mood for some overly elaborate cuisine. Heaving himself up out of his chair, he put the letter down on the table, re-tied his robe to keep out the evening chill and grabbed his scarf from the hook on the door. He stepped out into the main room of the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters and stopped in his tracks. There were dim lights on ¨C small candles that someone had placed on a bench that just barely illuminated two small figures with eyes that glowed in the dark like those of a cat. With a gesture, Ed cast a force barrier in front of himself and followed up with a light over his shoulder.. It illuminated the two goblins, both of whom shrank back in annoyance at the brightness. One went so far as to hold up a hand to block the glare. Neither made any move or said anything for a moment. Then one, the elder of the two, leaned forward and flicked the barrier with a finger, causing little ripples of light to emanate out from the point of impact. The balding goblin had a bit of gray in what was left of his black hair, but wore a motley collection of armor that looked well used. The younger one was dressed in a normal tunic and stared at him wide-eyed, apparently surprised at his reaction. Ed hesitated, trying to make sense of the scene. What the hell? ¡°Hmph.¡± Ed grunted, dismissing the barrier. ¡°We¡¯re closed. What are you doing here?¡± ¡°Archmage.¡± The elder one nodded in greeting, apparently not in the least intimidated by Ed¡¯s display of magic. ¡°Word is that you¡¯re looking for guards for the new Undercity. We¡¯re looking to join the Underkeepers.¡± 2.4 Warlock Bernt shuffled into the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters early the next morning, still trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes as Jori skipped along behind him. The little demon didn¡¯t need to sleep very much, and her chipper attitude always grated on him in the mornings. It was one of the reasons he didn¡¯t like getting up early in the first place. But over the past month he¡¯d gotten into the habit of showing up shortly after dawn, like most of the others. He needed the later afternoon hours to study, train and look for a new apartment. When he entered, he found Ed in the main room with Dayle and Fiora going over their tasks for the day. Dayle, who was facing the door, gave him a cheerful, morning-person wave. ¡°Morning Bernt! You look plumb tuckered out for a fellow who just got here. Look like you could use a cup of coffee there.¡± Bernt grunted. The older man was playing up his energetic morning persona again to mess with him. He shook his head wearily and grumbled. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± He would be, he knew. As soon as the sun rose properly, anyway. By now, both Ed and Fiora had turned his way. ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± Ed began, ¡°I wanted to ask you ¨C where the hells did you post those fliers yesterday? I¡¯ve already had four goblins come by here looking for work and exactly one dwarf. That¡¯s pretty damned peculiar considering that this is almost entirely a human town.¡± Bernt just shrugged, but Jori stepped in front of him, puffing out her chest proudly. ¡°It was my idea!¡± she bragged excitedly. ¡°You said that the new Undercity would have dwarves and goblins. We brought one of the fliers to our goblin friend at the market!¡± Ed grunted noncommittally. ¡°I see... and what about everywhere else?¡± Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°Well, we covered the entire Lower District and a bit more besides. We posted fliers at several guard stations ¨C a few thought we¡¯d get in the way of their own recruitment efforts, but the gate guards especially were friendly enough. Besides that, we put something up at most of the major intersections, and I glued a few to a wall across from the Adventurers¡¯ Guild¡¯s notice board.¡± ¡°Hmmm.¡± Ed hummed pensively. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll see who turns up over the next few days.¡± ¡°You know, the little runt might actually be on to something.¡± Dayle said thoughtfully. ¡°Makes sense that goblins and dwarves would join up if they¡¯re protecting their own communities. Why not take them?¡± Fiora snorted before Ed could answer. ¡°Dwarves, sure. But goblins? We have to sell this to the public somehow. There¡¯s a reason the city guard doesn¡¯t have any goblins in it ¨C people don¡¯t trust them.¡± Dayle shrugged. ¡°Who cares? They¡¯ll be well out of sight down in the tunnels. Not much of a scandal if it''s literally buried. We need people who can fight, and goblins are meaner than a wet sack of demons when it¡¯s time to draw blood.¡± Jori cocked her head at the odd analogy, but didn¡¯t comment. ¡°It¡¯s not going to help our public relations any.¡± Ed grumbled. ¡°But we might not have much choice at this rate. We¡¯ll see who comes.¡± Just as he said it, the door opened again, and a human woman stepped inside. She was young, about Bernt¡¯s own age, and dressed simply in sturdy boots and an impeccably clean and pressed tunic in dark gray. Bernt recognized her ¨C she was a warlock. Stepping forward, she gave a quick, precise bow toward Ed. ¡°Archmage Thurdred, my name is Josie, an associate solicitor reporting as ordered, compliments of the Solicitors¡¯ Office.¡± Dayle and Fiora exchanged a puzzled glance and frowned at the young woman in unison. Ed just offered her a polite nod. ¡°Ah, perfect. I suppose that means Radast has heard the news.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she said, looking around at the others in the room a little suspiciously. When she saw Bernt, her mouth turned down a little at the corners. Apparently she remembered him. Great. ¡°They are massing down below and several of our associated offices in other cities have noted an uptick in demonic activity.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Ed nodded and scratched at his chin for a second, glanced at Jori, and then back at Josie. ¡±Welcome to the Underkeepers. You¡¯ll be providing some legal and bureaucratic support for us, but your day-to-day is going to be as part of our new guard force, so you can keep an eye on the situation down below for us. Can you fight?¡± ¡°I can,¡± she answered with a sharp nod, apparently not feeling the need to elaborate. ¡°Ed,¡± Fiora said, eying Josie a little warily. ¡°When were you going to tell us that you¡¯re bringing a solicitor into the Underkeepers?¡± ¡°Right now.¡± Ed said reasonably. ¡°We have a demon running around in plain view. Having a solicitor in the organization is going to help with that. Josie¡¯s mere presence will help us suppress rumors that Jori is operating without legitimate oversight.¡± Bernt could feel the imp¡¯s annoyance at that ¨C she didn¡¯t want a minder. But she didn¡¯t let it show on her face as Ed went on. ¡°Iri and I negotiated for the Solicitors¡¯ support in dealing with the demonic duergar threat as part of our arrangement regarding Jori¡¯s paperwork.¡± ¡°Ed.¡± Fiora said again, this time with a clear note of warning. ¡°That paperwork was done days before we found out about the dwarves.¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Ed said, smiling. A smile just looked wrong on him. Fortunately, it dissolved back into a more neutral scowl a moment later as he turned back to the warlock. ¡°We have a few days to wait until the army turns over the space that we have marked out for the new Undercity, so I¡¯m sending you out with Bernt today on maintenance rounds.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ wait a minute.¡± Bernt interrupted, feeling more than a little alarmed at the direction this was taking. ¡°Is this really a good idea? Weren¡¯t you just talking about public relations?¡± Josie gave him a withering stare and opened her mouth to answer, but Ed was quicker. ¡°You¡¯re damned right I was. You have no idea what kinds of complaints I''ve been getting from jumpy citizens who see you running around with Jori out there. The two of you are going to get well acquainted ¨C being seen with a solicitor can only help with that situation. I would suggest a bit more politeness on your part, Bernt. We have a lot of work to do on that score. We didn¡¯t get the Solicitors¡¯ support for nothing, either.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Bernt flushed and swallowed. He looked over to meet Josie¡¯s cool gaze. ¡°Uh. I apologize, that was rude.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Ed said. ¡°Now. Jori, you¡¯re with Fiora today. I¡¯ll put the interns to work here for the day. Get out of here.¡± Jori nodded and skipped over to Fiora, who was already moving toward the door. Bernt thought she wouldn¡¯t like Ed taking her minion for the day, but she seemed satisfied. He supposed that she liked working with the other mage. The little imp had been quick to endear herself to the other underkeepers by taking over a lot of the more onerous, sewer-centric activities when she was assigned with them. Uriah had transferred to the Loamfurth Underkeepers two weeks earlier, leaving nobody here who really objected to her presence anymore. Several, like Fiora, seemed even to have grown attached to her. It was a best-case scenario, as far as Bernt was concerned. ¡°Alright. Bernt, you and Josie here are going on rounds in the Lower District, and there¡¯s a tannery out in the Dyers District that needs a clog sorted out.¡± He held out a roll of paper. ¡°The report¡¯s in there.¡± Bernt accepted the list with a slight grimace. Then, offering Josie his best attempt at a diplomatic smile, he said. ¡°Alright then, let¡¯s get started.¡± ¨C----- The Dyer¡¯s district was an area outside the walls that housed industries like tanning and dyeing ¨C businesses that were too pungent to be allowed inside the walls. Of course, people still lived there. The dyers and tanners themselves were largely immune to the stench and it was one of the few areas where goblins or orcs could find a roof to sleep under. Its sewer system was blocked off from the main system by a system of sturdy, steel grates where the tunnels passed underneath the walls, expensively enchanted to resist corrosion. ¡°So, uh¡­ what can you do?¡± Bernt asked, trying to break the awkward silence as the two of them made their way toward the southern gate. Josie arched a well-groomed, black eyebrow at him. ¡°...as a warlock, I mean.¡± Bernt added. ¡°Ah,¡± she replied. ¡°Well. I¡¯m a solicitor. We mostly specialize in managing information. I have a contract from the fourth hell that primarily gives me access to a soul-tracking ability, as well as some minor combat support.¡± Bernt swallowed. ¡°Uh¡­ okay, great.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure how useful tracking souls would be to anyone, but he supposed he didn¡¯t really know very much about warlocks ¨C not beyond the horror stories, anyway. ¡°How come you don¡¯t have a demon with you?¡± Josie sniffed and shook her head slightly. ¡°Service-contracts are rare. They¡¯re expensive and they normally have a limited term, so you have to renew them. It¡¯s a terrible way to build long-term power. My contract gives me permanent access to a few abilities. It¡¯s a lot safer. A demon that¡¯s not on this plane anymore can¡¯t do very much to subvert your contract after it¡¯s made. It¡¯s not as powerful as having a pacted ally, but it¡¯s bought and paid for. ¡± ¡°With souls¡­¡± Bernt said, not fully able to hide his discomfort. ¡°Yes,¡± Josie confirmed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. ¡°With souls." ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that.¡± Bernt said a little defensively. ¡°I mean¡­ do you know what happens to them?¡± He¡¯d seen Jori feeding on whatever those soul remnants were that the kobolds left behind when they died. The warlock watched him warily for a moment. ¡°How long were you planning to live with an unbound demon before you did any research on them? This is basics ¨C something you could learn from a bestiary. They digest souls, take an aspect of power from them and then pass the soul on through the hells. They all work that way, in some fashion.¡± Bernt frowned. He didn''t have a bestiary. Bestiaries were very expensive, especially ones with reliable information. So, they didn¡¯t destroy souls, at least according to the warlocks. He supposed they would be in the best position to know. Bernt didn¡¯t know very much about demons or soul magic, but he did know that most of the temples tended to take a worst-case view of anything infernal. Street preachers often railed against demonic influences and the hells¡¯ desire to destroy the immortal souls of the faithful. ¡°So.¡± Josie asked after a moment, her tone carefully neutral. ¡°Why do you keep a demon around if you¡¯re so paranoid about warlocks?¡± Bernt scoffed. ¡°She was practically a baby ¨C I wasn¡¯t just going to kill her. I¡¯m not a monster. Besides, I can feel her mind through the familiar bond. She¡¯s not evil, and she doesn¡¯t deserve this kind of treatment. From the public or from the Solicitors. Doesn¡¯t mean I want to go around making deals for infernal power. It¡¯s unprofessional for a mage.¡± Josie stared at him, taken aback. ¡°You¡­ what?¡± She looked away, shook her head, took a few steps and threw up her hands. ¡°What?¡± Bernt asked, annoyed now. ¡°You¡¯re. An. Idiot.¡± She declared, emphasizing each word. Then she just kept walking. Bernt wrestled down his growing irritation and followed. Of course a warlock wouldn¡¯t understand something like compassion, or a mage¡¯s professional pride. It was ridiculous to expect anything else. Passing through the gate, the two made their way into the Dyers¡¯ District. The tannery in question was located on the east side, near the river. It wasn¡¯t hard to find ¨C they just had to follow their noses to where the smell was strongest. Bernt knocked on the door, but it looked like no one was there. In fact, the whole street seemed abandoned. They would have to approach the clog from below. Bernt looked around for the nearest access shaft and found it over a hundred strides away, at a small intersection. Lifting the metal cover, he eyed Josie in her impeccably clean clothes, with her long, glossy dark hair spilling down over her shoulders and tried to keep the doubt off of his face. He had a feeling that she was not going to like this. But Ed had said to show her the ropes. ¡°Ehm. We¡¯re going down there. This is going to get pretty messy.¡± ¡°Yes, I know,¡± Josie said, glaring at him. ¡°What¡¯s your point?¡± ¡°You might want to tie your hair up.¡± He said carefully. ¡°Sometimes, you can¡¯t even get the smell out with magic at the end of the day.¡± Her expression lightened. ¡°Right.¡± She pulled a large handkerchief from her pocket and tied her hair up with practiced efficiency. Now that Bernt was paying attention, he realized that she didn¡¯t seem particularly bothered by the stench ¨C even here. She had a strong stomach. He didn¡¯t want to think about what that said about the kinds of things that warlocks got up to. A minute later, both of them sloshed through knee-deep muck that had backed up behind whatever was obstructing the drainage system downstream from them. Bernt didn¡¯t dare use fire magic here ¨C the air was so foul that it might ignite at the first spark. So he began casting a traditional mage light to send out in front of them. He almost had the spell finished when he felt a tap on his shoulder. ¡°Stop,¡± Josie hissed. ¡°There¡¯s something down there!¡± But it was too late. As the words left her mouth, the spell activated. A steady blue light pierced the gloomy darkness around them and shone off of the eyes of something in front of them ¨C something as big as a bear, and equally brown and furry and angry, with huge, pointy saber teeth that absolutely did not belong on a beaver. 2.5 Skinwalker The monstrous beaver creature barreled toward them like a runaway horse. Conjuring fire here was a bad idea, but he wasn¡¯t fast enough with anything else. Clearing the incendiary influence of his investiture out of a spell on the fly would take too long. Deciding to take the risk, Bernt raised his pyromancer¡¯s wand to cast. Or, he tried to. Just as he moved, he found himself pushed against the moist, cold wall by Josie as she squeezed around him in the narrow tunnel and planted her feet. Bernt could only watch, dumbfounded, as the creature bore down on her, driving a bow wave of unmentionable filth in front of it. Was she trying to get herself killed? Before it could reach her, Josie opened her mouth and screeched. The sound was high-pitched, penetrating, and deeply, fundamentally, inhumanly wrong. Bernt¡¯s blood froze in his veins and painful, horrible memories consumed his mind. The terror of running for his life in a dark, trap-riddled maze. That awful moment of despair he felt waking up bound and captured by an enemy. The yawning chasm of grief that opened somewhere in a little boy¡¯s chest as he realized that his mother wouldn''t wake up, that she wasn''t going to wake up. The creature felt it too and it stopped. It tried to back up awkwardly in the confined space, but Josie pressed forward and lashed out with a bare hand, her fingernails suddenly long, dark, and radiating an icy, psychic cold that Bernt could feel from three steps away. They left only shallow cuts in the beast, but depth didn¡¯t matter. The monstrous rodent whined pitifully, a low tortured sound as it continued to back up. The sound turned into a growl and back into an agonized, shuddering whine. A few seconds later it collapsed down into the sludge, its head going under, and went still. Bernt stared, disbelieving at the scene. Josie shook her clawed hand, restoring it to its normal appearance and turned back toward him. She looked at him with an expression of actual human concern and Bernt wondered what he must look like. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that. I couldn¡¯t let you throw around fire down here.¡± She gestured around vaguely, still breathing hard. ¡°Too dangerous with the gasses.¡± Bernt nodded, still too rattled to talk. He wondered for a moment how she¡¯d known that he was about to cast fire magic, but decided that it wasn¡¯t worth it. Instead of answering, he did what he should have done in the first place with a backed-up sewer. He collected himself and hummed out an aeromancy spell, sending a soft breeze down the tunnel. It wouldn¡¯t continue for long and it wouldn¡¯t help much with the smell, but it would at least clear out the worst of any flammable gasses while they cleared out the blockage. Josie was still looking at him, waiting for a response. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he said, even though it really, really wasn¡¯t. ¡°What was that thing?¡± ¡°Not sure,¡± she shrugged, stepping toward the corpse to get a better look. ¡°But I sensed two different souls, so I¡¯d guess some kind of monstrous parasite, or a spiritual possession or something.¡± She poked at the pile of unmoving fur with a booted foot. Nothing happened. Collecting himself, Bernt moved to join her and then sent his light out ahead of them. ¡°Uh. Is that a dam over there?¡± Sure enough, the creature had actually dammed up the sewer. The blockage was built from a collection of garbage, sticks and leathery hides that it must have somehow stolen from the tannery above. Bernt sighed. This was going to take them hours to haul up and out of the sewer. ¡°Skins¡­¡± Josie said, thoughtfully. ¡°Hold on a second.¡± Turning around, she sloshed back over to the beaver monster and tugged fruitlessly on its pelt, first on one side, then the other. She obviously wasn¡¯t going to be able to move the huge creature, it was far too heavy. With a quiet sigh, Bernt moved to help her. Before he got there, however, Josie stumbled backward, splashing water all over the front of Bernt¡¯s robes, dragging a wet, disgusting hide back with her. It was massive, bigger than an expensive blanket and very much the wrong color. While the beaver had been brown, this fur had a distinctive golden color, like that of a mountain lion. ¡°Ha!¡± the warlock crowed. ¡°I knew it! It¡¯s a skinwalker. Or an accidental one, anyway.¡± Bernt stopped and frowned, trying to ignore the black water seeping into the front of his robes. ¡°We don¡¯t have skinwalkers. And there¡¯s no way that was a person.¡± ¡°No,¡± Josie said, waving away his protests. ¡°I mean it was a beaver wearing a ritual hide. It probably just crawled underneath it at some point. I''d bet ten gold marks that the tannery up there probably works with the Berserkers¡¯ Guild. Berserker armor uses soul magic to harness power from other creatures. These kinds of hides are probably a raw material for them.¡± Bernt just stared at her with wide eyes. ¡°What? How do you know this stuff?¡± There was absolutely no way that something like this wouldn¡¯t be a guild secret. If they knew that she knew¡­ well, the guilds didn¡¯t manage to keep their secrets for hundreds of years because of their light touch. It could mean her life. And his, now. She¡¯d just¡­ casually told him! This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Josie shrugged. ¡°I can sense souls. Most berserkers carry around traces of three or four of them, at least. I couldn¡¯t miss it if I tried.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Bernt hissed. ¡°But why would you tell me?¡± She smirked. ¡°I thought mages loved learning secrets. Besides, who are you going to tell?¡± Bernt took a slow breath and reminded himself that mages did, in fact, love learning secrets. And besides, all the best secrets were dangerous to know. She hadn¡¯t even gained any leverage by telling him. It wasn¡¯t as though she was going to blab about this where the berserkers might hear. This was good. She was practically doing him a favor. In fact¡­ ¡°So¡­wait a moment,¡± he said, examining the hide, ¡°you¡¯re saying they use animal souls to enchant their gear?¡± ¡°I suppose?¡± Surprise registered on Josie¡¯s face at his sudden change of attitude. ¡°Sort of. Ritual slaughter and some enchantment afterward, is my guess. And that¡¯s before the Berserkers¡¯ Guild does whatever they do to it.¡± ¡°Hmm, alright.¡± Bernt said, dragging the heavy thing past the carcass of a now surprisingly normal-sized beaver. ¡°Let¡¯s get all of this stuff up into the street. I¡¯ll find us a cart and we¡¯ll move it all out to the garbage incinerator.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that a bit inefficient?¡± Josie complained. ¡°There''s a garbage dump down here, less than a half-mile away!¡± Bernt smiled humorlessly. ¡°There is. But any garbage recovered from the sewers is considered hazardous waste. And hazardous waste goes to the hazardous waste disposal incinerator.¡± Besides, if everything went to the incinerator, the tannery wouldn¡¯t question a missing skinwalker¡¯s hide. Bernt wasn¡¯t really interested in using the thing as it was ¨C there was a reason that skinwalkers were mostly just remembered from stories. They had a tendency to go insane, which seemed fair if it really worked the way that Josie made it sound. But¡­ well, if the berserkers had found a way to make it work for them, he at least wanted to see what Grixit thought about it. Josie grabbed an armful of garbage and started hauling it out. ¡°So, are you going to tell me how you got a demon to serve you for years without paying its price?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t ¡®get her to serve¡¯.¡± Bernt replied. ¡°I just asked her for help and she helped. She was down in the sewers already anyway.¡± Josie scoffed disbelievingly. ¡°They don¡¯t do that. Demons have prices. You must have given her something.¡± ¡°No, I didn¡¯t.¡± Bernt said, annoyed. ¡°Unless you want to count a roof over her head and a warm place to sleep. But it wasn''t a trade. I just took her home.¡± The warlock turned to face him, clearly planning to argue, but he quickly cut her off with a question of his own. ¡°What happened to the guy who summoned her, anyway? Your boss told me the Solicitors would take care of it. No other demons have come for Jori as far as I know, but I never got an update, either. Did you catch him?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not authorized to share that kind of information¡± Josie said in the rote tone of someone who was used to saying that exact phrase to people several times per day. ¡°You¡¯ll have to submit an information request with the office.¡± Bernt groaned quietly. This was going to be a long day. ¨C------- ¡°So, how did it go?¡± Ed asked as Bernt handed him his reports for the day. He looked over to the corner of the room, distracted by the sight of Gnugg scrubbing at the floor with a small cleaning brush. Farrin must be worried about keeping him out of trouble again. ¡°A mutant beaver built a dam underneath the Dyer¡¯s district,¡± he said, sinking down into the chair opposite Ed¡¯s desk. ¡°There¡¯s a dumping citation for a dyer who thought we wouldn¡¯t notice blue dye pouring out of the sewers. We also cleared a couple of smaller blockages in that weird neighborhood on the western edge of the district that always has issues ¨C no clear cause there. Oh, we also found an abandoned campsite, probably goblins that already moved on. I wrote up a note for the guards, but they¡¯re not going to do anything.¡± Ed nodded. ¡°Alright, good. How did the warlock do?¡± Josie had excused herself a few minutes before as they passed by the Solicitors¡¯ office ¨C apparently they had cleaning facilities that could handle even an underkeepers¡¯ laundry. While they were all technically supposed to end their day at headquarters, there was no need for her to walk all the way down there and back up. ¡°Fine.¡± Bernt admitted a little grudgingly. ¡°She¡¯s efficient and walks through a sewer as if it was a freshly cleaned street. She can fight, too.¡± He swallowed uncomfortably at the memory. ¡°It¡¯s kind of scary, actually. She¡­ uh, she doesn¡¯t like me very much. At all.¡± At first, Bernt hadn¡¯t wanted to work with her because she was a solicitor. The Solicitors had threatened Jori, and clearly they still wanted to control her. That just didn¡¯t sit right with him. Now, though, it was more personal. Josie made him uncomfortable ¨C and not because she was a warlock. Not just that, anyway. She¡¯d spent the whole workday snooping, asking personal questions about him and Jori. When he was willing to answer, she responded to everything he said with some combination of disbelief and disapproval. It was rude and he¡¯d tired of it pretty much immediately. ¡°Do I really have to work with her?¡± he asked. The question sounded whiny, even to him ¨C it was embarrassing to realize that she¡¯d gotten under his skin. Ed laughed dryly. ¡°Son, I think you¡¯ve spent too much time hanging around like-minded people. Not everyone is going to like or respect your choices or your way of looking at the world.¡± Bernt scoffed. ¡°I know that! You should see the looks I get when I walk down the street these days ¨C or when I try to apply for a lease!¡± ¡°Sure, but none of those people will ever actually make you think and ask yourself important questions.¡± Ed said seriously. ¡°This is going to be good for you. It¡¯s important to learn to see yourself from other peoples¡¯ perspectives and to learn why they think the way they do. I don¡¯t really know much about the girl, but the same is probably true for her.¡± Bernt clenched his jaw in irritation for a moment. He did need to learn more about warlocks, if only for Jori¡¯s sake. He was letting his personal feelings get in the way, and he wasn''t sure he could afford that anymore. ¡°Alright,¡± he said grudgingly and got up to leave. ¡°I¡¯ll see you in the morning.¡± If he wanted to get anywhere in life, he''d have to live with far worse than a little skepticism. 2.6 Follow Up Bernt sat in his room at the Minotaur¡¯s Head and read the letter again ¨C the pertinent part, not the introductory word salad. Someone had slid it under his door and he¡¯d found it when he got up this morning. It was written on expensive parchment, adorned at the top with the elaborate crest of the Solicitors. It was just as vague and unhelpful as the first time he¡¯d read it. ¡°The threat posed by the rogue warlock in question has been neutralized. No further demonic threats to either yourself or the imp Dzhorianath are known.¡± That was it. No details, nothing. He flipped it over. The back was still blank, just like the first time he¡¯d checked. No clue why the rogue warlock was summoning demons in the first place or what even happened to him. Was he dead? Did the solicitors have him locked up somewhere? Or... did they recruit him? Bernt shivered at the thought. They wouldn¡¯t. Probably. Would they? No. They wouldn¡¯t. Jori¡¯s summoner had, so far as he and Jori could tell, messed up multiple summonings. Worse, he¡¯d apparently tried to cover up his failure by dumping Jori in a sewer. That suggested some kind of nefarious intent as well as incompetence. If there was one thing Bernt had learned from working with Josie over the past several days, it was that solicitors hated dabblers and improvisers of all kinds, but most especially those who played fast and loose with demons and summoning. He knew because they considered him to be one, especially Josie. His only redeeming quality in their eyes was that he hadn¡¯t actually done any summoning. Their attitude was irritating, but he supposed it made sense ¨C solicitors had to account for everything ahead of time for both their demonic pacts and more mundane contracts. It stood to reason that people drawn to that sort of work had a certain intolerance for people who tried to figure it out as they went along. They only put up with him because of Jori, who they wanted as part of some kind of public relations campaign to help reform their image. He hoped they had a proper plan for that. She was cute, mostly friendly and she didn¡¯t hurt people for no reason. That was something, but it wasn¡¯t a plan. Still, he wanted to know the details. If he pushed Josie long enough, she would tell him something. Or maybe Jori could get it out of her. Whatever the case, he wasn¡¯t just going to let this lie. He put the letter down on top of a haphazard stack of notes and partial spell diagrams on his desk and got up. He needed to get moving. Pulling his boots on with a little more force than was absolutely necessary, Bernt made his way out of the inn and headed to work. Jori was already gone, having darted out the window a few minutes earlier. She was going to get Gnugg and Trip from the orphanage. Trip and the little kobold had become practically inseparable, leading to more than a few outraged comments from gnomes who saw the two ancestral enemies walking around together. When he first approached Ed about letting orphan volunteers check storm drains, Bernt had expected the archmage to decline. It had been Jori¡¯s idea, and Farrin had reluctantly agreed only because Gnugg had insisted. Poorer children often worked in Halfbridge, but not for a mage order like the Underkeepers. But Ed had accepted. They were spread thin trying to clean up after the kobold invasion, and doing the street-level rounds in the safer parts of the city didn¡¯t really require a mage. Or an adult, for that matter. ¨C---- When Bernt arrived, he found a crowd of people standing outside the Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters. There were thirty of them at least and they were all facing right at the building with the wary anticipation of people who weren¡¯t quite sure what they were supposed to be doing. These were the new recruits, Bernt realized a little belatedly. People had been stepping in and out of the office for several days, crowding the Underkeepers'' main room at times, but most of them hadn¡¯t looked like much. Bernt hadn¡¯t realized just how many qualified applicants there were. At the front of the crowd stood Ed alongside Fiora, who was calling roll from a list. Unsure of what he was supposed to do, he stopped to watch. It was a heterogenous crowd ¨C humans, dwarves, goblins and a few gnomes. No elves, but that wasn¡¯t much of a surprise. Most kinds of elves were uncomfortable in enclosed spaces. Every time a name was called, a new guard would go up to Fiora, sign her list, and receive a gray, cloth-wrapped bundle from Ed. It was gear. Bernt¡¯s heart leapt up into his throat. They were finally getting equipment! ¡°What in the hells is all this about?¡± came a familiar voice from behind him. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Bernt turned to find Josie standing there. A small part of him noted with some incredulity that her work clothes were, once again, completely spotless, as they¡¯d been every morning since her first day. How did she do it? But there were more important things to think about today. ¡°It''s the new recruits. And it looks like we¡¯re about to finally get some proper equipment!¡± Bernt said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice or the smile off his face. ¡°And I guess that means we¡¯re moving into the new Undercity soon. Maybe today. We can''t operate out of here with all these people. Where would they even put their stuff?¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Josie nodded, apparently not very intrigued by the idea. A moment later, though, her face broke into a smile, too. ¡°Wait, does that mean no sewers today?¡± ¨C---- ¡°You¡¯ll be doing the sewer rounds in the crafter¡¯s district this morning.¡± Ed said, several minutes later. The new Underkeeper Guards were being led down to the Undercity by Fiora for orientation. There, they would be put to work assisting Kustov and the city¡¯s engineers as they expanded the space, set up defensive structures and guard stations and generally turned the former kobold warren into a habitable and reasonably comfortable space for surface dwellers. Bernt accepted the checklist from Ed with an amused grunt as Josie groaned quietly with disappointment. ¡°What about the equipment?¡± Bernt asked, looking around the room. ¡°I saw you outfitting the new recruits earlier. My boots haven¡¯t been entirely waterproof since last year.¡± Of course, he was hoping for something quite a bit better than new work boots. They couldn¡¯t very well expect a new guard force to supply their own fighting equipment. Not that he expected the Count to spring for the good stuff. Still, he would take what he could get. ¡°Yes, don¡¯t worry.¡± Ed said ¡°We¡¯ve updated our uniform to better reflect our new purpose. You''ll be getting it before the end of the day. Just wear it to work tomorrow and bring your old robe back. I have to turn it back in to the Count¡¯s quartermaster. Some kind of procedure or other.¡± ¡°It¡¯s to prevent misappropriation of funds,¡± Josie helpfully provided. ¡°Paragraph thirty-two of the Beseri code for the management of arms, armor, and wearable equipment.¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure.¡± Ed said, waving them off. ¡°Get to it. I¡¯ll meet you and the others two hours after noon at the main breach. The whole thing is being reinforced and converted to be the new entrance to the Undercity. We¡¯re going to do an orientation for everyone who isn¡¯t already familiar.¡± ¨C----- The workday passed by with agonizing slowness. Working in the crafter¡¯s district, they passed within sight of the breach twice. Bernt hadn¡¯t seen it in about a week, and even what little they could see had already changed quite a bit. At least three of the houses across the street were simply gone, and he could see the top of a massive arch that had been built into the city wall somehow. While there was thankfully little in the way of slimes or mutant rodents running around in the sewers that day, they still ran into detritus from the battle that had taken place nearly five weeks earlier, even though both the guards and the underkeepers had come through to clear the bodies and rubble. Several hours later, they found a surprisingly large pile of gnawed, stinking bones, and bits of cloth and leather washed up in a corner. When they removed the stuff, Josie found something else buried in the mess ¨C a silver ring that was too large for a finger and too small to be a bracelet ¨C probably a kobold¡¯s tailring. She grinned, slipping it into a small pouch at her belt. According to unofficial Underkeeper custom, finders were keepers. Bernt dug through the rest of it carefully, hoping for maybe a gold coin or something, but he came up with nothing. Of course. Oh well, next time. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s time, yet?¡± Josie asked, looking up longingly as if she could will herself up and out of the sewer to the relatively fresh air of the streets above. Bernt could relate. ¡°No. But we haven¡¯t had lunch yet,¡± he said and pointed. ¡°If we take a right up there, we¡¯ll come out of the access shaft right next to Marin¡¯s Bakery. She won¡¯t let us inside, but if we knock at the window we can get some of her bread-bowl soup. It¡¯s a bit messy, but prices are pretty reasonable, and there¡¯s a little fountain to wash our hands not too far from there.¡± ¡°Sounds good.¡± Josie said. ¡°Anything but more street-cart cabbage rolls. Your eating habits are deranged.¡± Bernt scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ll pretend that I didn¡¯t hear that. Cal is a cabbage artist!¡± ¡°Not even the poorest farmers just eat cabbage every day, Bernt," Josie replied with a roll of her eyes. Bernt shrugged. Cal was a friend, and there was nothing wrong with supporting his business. Besides, his cabbage rolls really were that good. ¡°Listen,¡± he said, changing the subject. ¡°I got a response about that rogue warlock back from the Solicitors¡¯ Office¡­¡± Josie¡¯s expression, which had almost been friendly before, turned sour. ¡°What about it?¡± ¡°Well, they essentially just said ¡®don¡¯t worry about it¡¯.¡± Bernt complained. ¡°What am I supposed to do with that? This guy tried to kill Jori, and he was clearly out there just summoning demons. Who knows how many are still running around?¡± ¡°Ah,¡± she said, relaxing a little. ¡°You¡¯re worried that he might still be a threat to you if we didn¡¯t kill him.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± Bernt said, exasperation leaking into his tone and demeanor. ¡°I also just want to know what happened. I mean, who wouldn¡¯t?¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± the warlock mused, cocking her head to the side a little. ¡°Well, I mean... rogue warlocks are normally executed on sight. If we have reason to believe that they¡¯re cultists, or that they¡¯re being influenced by another power somehow, then we would keep them contained for a while, so we can try to use them to find the source of the problem.¡± ¡°Uh.¡± Bernt said eloquently. She''d actually said something useful! Sort of. ¡°You mean he was part of a demonic cult of some kind?¡± Josie shook her head disgustedly and sloshed off down the sewer. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you anything, you dolt. Come on, I¡¯m hungry.¡± 2.7 The Undercity Bernt was still cramming the last bits of soggy, soup-drenched bread into his mouth when they arrived at the breach. Uh. Former breach. Sometime in the past week, the place had been transformed ¨C probably by Kustov or maybe even Janus. It was a lot of stonework. What had previously been little more than a sloped hole in the street, leading down to a tunnel that had been torn into the sewers below, was now a semi-circular set of broad steps that led down to an imposing-looking stone archway. It was set directly under the city wall, giving people entering the Undercity the sense that they were walking into a cliff-face. There was no sign left of any sewer access. Alongside the wall on either side were gently-sloped ramps to allow for the passage of modestly-sized carts. The houses across the street had been torn down, the rubble removed, and the earth beneath paved over with smooth, magically shaped sandstone to create a small plaza ¨C and to ensure there would be enough space for traffic to pass by, Bernt assumed. On one side at street-level stood the stone shell of a new guard station. They were still a little early, but Bernt already knew they weren¡¯t the first ones there. Kustov was sitting in the doorway of the guard station, sipping from a bottle. He sat across from Jori, who was entertaining Gnugg and Trip by cramming an entire spicy cabbage roll into her mouth as they cheered her on. A moment later, Jori saw them coming and waved, and the others turned to look. ¡°Is it safe to just have your demon interact freely with children like that?¡± Josie asked, speaking quietly so they wouldn¡¯t hear. Bernt supposed she must not know how a mage¡¯s familiar bond worked. Jori could hear everything he did when they were this close together, as long as she chose to spare any attention for it. He shrugged. ¡°Jori¡¯s been looking out for Gnugg since before he even got here. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anyone he feels safer around. She¡¯s gotten pretty attached to them both and she sees them as her responsibility. I think it¡¯s good for her.¡± Josie looked at him strangely, but then just shook her head and waved back to the group as they reached them. Kustov nodded at the humans and offered them the bottle, Josie first. She declined with a polite shake of her head and he held it out to Bernt. He accepted and took a sip. It was not water. ¡°This place looks great!¡± Bernt wheezed, coughing as his eyes teared up. ¡°Is it all your work?¡± Kustov nodded proudly, graciously ignoring Bernt¡¯s sputtering. Dwarves normally considered it rude to pull a face or cough when drinking ¨C it implied that the host had offered a beverage of inferior quality. But dwarven spirits also weren¡¯t really meant for human consumption. ¡°Welcome to the new Undercity Gate! It¡¯s not half done yet, but it¡¯s good enough to be put to use. The rest can wait until we¡¯ve got people moved in down below. We got a few other geomancers to help out down there, including a few of the military¡¯s engineering corps. It¡¯s just about ready.¡± Bernt whistled, impressed. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you managed to do so much so quickly. How do you keep yourself from burning out?¡± ¡°I am a stoneweaver, boy,¡± the dwarf scoffed. ¡°This is what I do. If you had the right augmentation, you could do the same easily enough.¡± Bernt huffed out a disbelieving laugh. Kustov wasn¡¯t just incredibly powerful for a magister, he was clearly a skilled engineer. Just building a plaza that would properly drain water during a rainstorm was an engineering challenge. Rearranging a sewer system to make space for this new bit of city architecture without collapsing the buildings that were built right on top of it was something else entirely. But the dwarf had done it, somehow. If he hadn¡¯t, the streets near here would already be bathed in raw sewage. ¡°I¡¯m serious.¡± Kustov said, seeing his face. ¡°You just have the one investiture for now, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed the difference already. Each one will reinforce your mana network a little further. Finishing your augmentation will make an even bigger difference. You¡¯ll be using fire, sure, but you¡¯ll surprise yourself with what a difference it makes.¡± ¡°Alright. I guess I¡¯ll find out.¡± Bernt allowed. He did want to finish his augmentation, though his heart sank at the reminder of what he¡¯d need for his second investiture. ¡°Eventually, anyway,¡± he added gloomily. ¡°Why?¡± Kustov asked, peering at him. ¡°There¡¯s no sense in waiting too long, so long as you can afford the materials and you¡¯re well-practiced enough to get it done right. The sooner you can practice with the full augmentation the better.¡± Josie was listening to the conversation curiously. Bernt supposed she wouldn¡¯t know very much about mage advancement. The basics weren¡¯t much of a secret, but someone who wasn¡¯t born with the talent to become a mage would have no reason to learn about it. ¡°It¡¯s the second investiture,¡± he explained. ¡°I have to get my hands on a perpetual flame.¡± ¡°Ah¡± Kustov said, wincing slightly. ¡°Yes, that might not be quite so easy.¡± Perpetual flames sustained themselves on ambient mana, never going out unless deliberately extinguished. What made them so dangerous was that, if you let them, they consumed magic of all kinds ¨C including things like enchanted armor or shield spells. Or mages. Needless to say, perpetual flames were tightly controlled and almost never propagated by anyone who possessed one. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°I don¡¯t know that there is one in the city. It¡¯s possible that the count has one in his private armory, though¡­ or perhaps the Mages¡¯ Guild. But they wouldn¡¯t just hand you something like that. Have you asked, at least?¡± ¡°Not yet.¡± Bernt said. ¡°I¡¯m not even used to the first investiture yet. My casting is still much too slow.¡± It sounded like an excuse, which probably meant that it was one. He didn¡¯t want to ask Archmage Iriala for a favor, especially considering that he already owed her quite a bit. But he would have to, he knew. He was just putting it off as long as he could. Recognizing that fact, he sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll go and make an appointment on my next day off.¡± ¡°Ah, you¡¯re all here,¡± came Ed¡¯s voice from below. He stood in the mouth of the tunnel, flanked by Dayle and Fiora. Bernt was confused for a moment until he looked around and saw Yarrod making his way down the ramp from the opposite side. ¡°Come on down, I¡¯ll show you around.¡± ¨C----- The tunnel into the new Undercity had been enlarged significantly, nearly as wide as a normal street and tall enough for a mounted rider to pass through. Ed led them straight down the gentle slope toward the original set of chambers near the entry, but Bernt saw several new tunnels branching off and curving around out of sight, likely leading down underneath the city. The dragon¡¯s lair had primarily been located outside the city to the west, with the kobold¡¯s infiltration tunnels branching out toward and underneath Halfbridge. ¡°Goodness, Kustov,¡± said Yarrod, ¡°whyever did you widen the tunnels that the kobolds used to attack the city?¡± The dwarf shrugged. ¡°The count wanted the new Undercity mainly built directly underneath Halfbridge for defensive purposes. The main tunnel here branches off the original one in a few hundred paces and curves down and around as well. We expanded it out from the infiltration tunnels ¨C only about a fifth of it is even part of the original dungeon. It¡¯s just as well, the general didn¡¯t want to give us his space, and we want to keep the civilians as far away from the duergar lines as we can.¡± ¡°I suppose,¡± Yarrod sighed. ¡°But I hope you kept in mind that this means the new denizens of this Undercity could tunnel right up into the basements of our fair citizenry. I fear that a warren of tunnels isn¡¯t necessarily going to attract the cream of the crop, so to speak, in terms of the quality of its future denizens.¡± Kustov narrowed his eyes. ¡°What is that supposed to mean, exactly?¡± ¡°Please, my friend,¡± the gnome said, looking pained. ¡°I do not impugn the honor of our fair dwarven neighbors. I rather would point to the other, generally more surface-oriented races who would hide their activities from the light of day.¡± Kustov rolled his eyes and Dayle snorted. ¡°You worry too much. What do you think we¡¯re there for? We¡¯ll keep everyone in line.¡± Yarrod shook his head, muttering something that sounded skeptical, but he let the matter drop. True to Kustov¡¯s word, the main tunnel did turn back around in a wide arc, leading them down and underneath the city until they came into a large chamber ¨C a cavern, really. The dwarf turned around and swept his hand around in a presentational gesture as they stopped to admire it for a moment. The stone ceiling was held up by massive stone columns and lit by a large mage light that someone, probably Ed, had hung high up near the ceiling. A large, empty market square spread out in front of them, already complete with stone stalls for merchants. The sides of the square cavern were lined with the plain stone facades of unfinished buildings, and at the center of each side Bernt could see the mouth of a large tunnel ¨C the main thoroughfares of the new district. The walls of the space weren¡¯t smooth ¨C a deep, natural-looking crack rounded the entire cavern horizontally about twenty paces up, and smaller cracks radiated outward from it at regular intervals in a pattern that made it clear that it was not, in fact, natural at all. As they watched, a robed man on the other side of the square placed a hand against the stone and bowed his head, his softly spoken words echoing through the space unintelligibly. At first, nothing happened. But then, Bernt noticed a soft greenish-yellow glow coming from the crack in the stone right above the man. A moment later, the source of the light wiggled its way out of the crack, followed by several more of the things. Bernt shivered, thinking they were some kind of worm until softly glowing leaves began to sprout from the tendrils. Seconds later, inflorescences of tiny flowers emerged from underneath and bloomed, bathing the cavern in bright white light like tiny clusters of stars. Within a few minutes, the vines emerged from the large crack all around the cavern, growing inward and finding purchase in the smaller cracks to lay down roots and quest out further until they found the outer columns. It turned the space from imposing but mostly practical into something uniquely beautiful. Bernt¡¯s breath caught looking at it. This was incredible. He could get used to this, Bernt decided. No, he needed to live here. It was roomy here, not at all like the former dungeon, which was sized for tiny kobolds. He had no idea what the rest of the Undercity would look like, but this¡­ well, he was friends with the dwarf who¡¯d made it. Friendly acquaintances. Whatever. Kustov would help if he asked, and even he could see that he¡¯d be an idiot not to ask. ¡°What do you think?¡± a rich, melodious voice asked. Bernt dropped his gaze from the glowing vines and turned, surprised. The robed man was watching them, eyes twinkling. He was a half-elf who wore a long, brown beard that made him look more human than elven. He took a moment to give Ed a brief nod, but he was clearly addressing Kustov. ¡°Archdruid Leirin. Yes, fine, ¡± Kustov said in a clearly reluctant tone of concession. ¡°It looks better than rune lighting.¡± ¡°Just as I told you!¡± the archdruid said proudly, but then his formal demeanor cracked and he grinned. ¡°Dwarven architecture has too many straight lines. You have to break it up with some more organic elements or it just doesn¡¯t feel homey.¡± Kustov frowned, but waved the man off. ¡°Be off with you. We¡¯re not paying you to chat.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not paying me at all ¨C the count is,¡± the druid chuckled and winked as he moved toward one of the far tunnels, presumably to continue his work of lighting the place. ¡°Arrogant leaf-muncher.¡± Kustov grumbled, but Bernt could tell he was pleased. Ed patted the dwarf on the back as he passed him, heading toward the right side of the cavern. ¡°Relax,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s the results that matter. This is perfect. I think we¡¯re going to get a lot more interest than old Narald bargained for.¡± Bernt couldn¡¯t help but agree. Ed led the group through an archway that was probably supposed to hold a set of double-doors later into a large, open chamber. The keystone of the arch was marked with a stylized arcane glyph under a crescent, the whole thing bisected by a vertical line. Inside, several of the new underkeepers did spear drills under the watchful eye of a regular city guard who Bernt didn¡¯t recognize. And behind them Bernt could see deep into an entire complex of empty rooms through a series of unfinished windows and doors. ¡°Welcome,¡± Ed said with a grandiose gesture to the surrounding space, ¡°to the new Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters.¡± 2.8 Moving In The new complex was massive ¨C at least compared to their old headquarters. It made sense, since there was no way that nearly forty people could operate out of the tiny facilities that they¡¯d had before. This, though, was sized for at least three times as many people, probably closer to one hundred fifty, and there was no reason they couldn¡¯t expand out further into the earth. They had Kustov, after all. There were several offices, a training room, equipment storage, a massive kitchen and canteen, a break room and, of course, an armory. ¡°Okay everyone, and now to the good part.¡± Ed said, leading them into the last large room. The walls were lined with mundane weaponry ¨C spears, long knives, and stacks of basic armor. Gambesons, mail, helmets and boots. Most of it wasn¡¯t new, but it all looked to be in good repair. Bernt had no idea where Ed might have gotten it. ¡°Underkeepers without preexisting fighting qualifications are going to get the same basic guard training as the city guards. Former adventurers get more specialized equipment when we can find it. You, our original underkeepers, are also going to have some specialized kit. Mages outside the military aren¡¯t allowed to wear uniforms or armor in any style resembling Beseri army¡¯s, so you¡¯re going to be wearing these.¡± He reached down behind the tall stack of gambesons and picked up a gray bundle, checked a note that had been pinned to it, and tossed it to Bernt. Bernt caught it and let it unfurl. It was a gray robe, almost exactly like the one he was wearing, but the material was thicker and the whole thing was a lot heavier. Metal peeked out from the inside. ¡°Your new robes are lined with mail around the torso, like you¡¯d usually get for adventuring gear.¡± Ed explained as he passed the new robes out. ¡°They¡¯re also enchanted to repel water, so you shouldn¡¯t have to worry about staining in the future when you¡¯re working up in the sewers. Same with the boots over there. There wasn¡¯t enough in the budget for defensive enchantments, but they don¡¯t even spring for that in the military. It¡¯s turning out better than I expected, all things considered.¡± Josie cleared her throat. She hadn¡¯t received a robe, which made sense ¨C she wasn¡¯t a mage. She was still wearing her own clothes, the ones she¡¯d brought with her on her first day. ¡°Uh¡­ what about me?¡± She asked, looking around at the gear all around her. ¡°I asked Radast about it, since you¡¯re technically on loan.¡± Ed said his usual scowl taking on a wry edge as he talked. ¡°He said he was going to handle your equipment himself ¨C something about warlocks having ¡®standards¡¯. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll probably be better equipped than anyone here.¡± Turning away, he led the group over to the weapons. ¡°Each of you is going to start carrying a dagger as a sidearm. I expect all of you to develop at least some basic competency in close fighting with our new trainer, who you¡¯ll meet tomorrow ¨C I highly recommend learning to incorporate some spellcasting with this as well. It¡¯s highly unorthodox for mages to combine arms and magic, but orthodoxy is highly overrated when it comes to surviving to a ripe old age as a war mage. Yarrod harrumphed pompously. ¡°Hmpf. So, is that what we¡¯re to be, now? War mages? I would have expected that the army that¡¯s stationed about twenty-minutes¡¯ walk that way would cover that part if worse came to worst.¡± Ed barked a humorless laugh. ¡°Wars aren¡¯t fought along neat, impenetrable lines, my friend, and nothing about the Duergar Empire¡¯s movements would suggest that they¡¯re planning to play nice for long. I would be surprised if we get through this whole mess unscathed. Allowing you to muddle through with the skills you developed wiping out the minor nuisances that plague the sewers would not be¡­ appropriate.¡± He sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. ¡°We¡¯re getting off track a bit. Just trust me on this, alright? I¡¯m looking out for you.¡± The archmage turned around and pulled two staves, which Bernt had assumed were training spears, from the wall. He held the larger one out to Bernt, and the smaller to Yarrod. ¡°I also acquired two basic war mage staves from Arice¡¯s quartermaster. Both of you use wands right now, which is fine in most situations, but limited. You¡¯ll need something with a bit more heft to it.¡± As Bernt accepted the staff, Ed met his eyes and added, dryly. ¡°It¡¯s also useful to have a quality general focus on hand, for when you can¡¯t burn your way past your problems with more specialized equipment.¡± Bernt grinned. He almost couldn¡¯t wait, but he restrained himself and took his time to pick out a pair of boots that fit properly before leaving. He¡¯d probably be using them for a long time. ¨C------ ¡°Under ¡®reason for resettlement¡¯ you wrote ¡®work¡¯,¡° the weary-looking clerk said with dead eyes. ¡°While we expect the Undercity¡¯s economy to develop quickly, there are currently no known employment opportunities in the Undercity." Bernt sighed and threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder. A long line of impatient-looking dwarves, goblins, a few humans and a handful of gnomes stretched out behind him, extending far out of the magistrate¡¯s office into the hallway. He¡¯d listed work as his reason because he assumed that ¡°I want to find a home for my demonic familiar¡± wouldn¡¯t go over quite as well on a resettlement claim. Apparently he¡¯d been wrong. ¡°I already have a job.¡± Bernt said, indicating vaguely at his robes. ¡°I¡¯m an underkeeper. The new headquarters is located in the Undercity. As it is now, I¡¯d have to walk over half an hour to reach it.¡± ¡°Ah¡± the clerk grunted, scribbling something on Bernt¡¯s form. He hoped it wasn¡¯t going to be a problem. It couldn¡¯t be, right? They were planning to move goblins down there. Why wouldn¡¯t they let him live there? ¡°Alright,¡± the taciturn dwarf went on as he copied Bernt¡¯s responses onto another sheet. ¡°To limit religious tensions, the district has two separate residential quarters for adherents to shamanistic traditions and one that houses temples to the three dwarven deities that our own temple district hasn¡¯t been able to accommodate thus far. Do you have any particular preference?¡± That was a strange way to say that they were planning to segregate the goblins off into their own neighborhood. Bernt supposed not all goblins were shamanistic, but still. ¡°What about the third neighborhood?¡± he asked. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°The third quarter is going to function as sort of a secondary crafter¡¯s district ¨C it¡¯s located directly below it.¡± He nodded over to another, much shorter line, populated almost entirely by dwarves. ¡°Only registered artisans are permitted to settle there.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Bernt said, doing his best not to fidget impatiently. ¡°Is there anything close to the central marketplace? That¡¯s where the new headquarters is. I don¡¯t worship spirits or dwarven gods, so the neighborhood isn¡¯t really that important to me.¡± The clerk scoffed and smirked disbelievingly, but he kept processing the paperwork, so Bernt supposed it was just as well. ¡°Alright, sure. Congratulations, you¡¯re pre-qualified for resettlement. To obtain a resettlement permit and assigned housing, you¡¯ll need to pay an up-front fee of seventy-five gold marks or apply for financing via the Halfbridge city bank.¡± He held out a form. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re pre-approved.¡± Bernt scoffed and pulled a heavy pouch out from under his robes. The dwarf stared at it in surprise and almost dropped the paper. It was almost everything he had left, but this would be worth it. No rent payments ever again. He¡¯d be able to save money more quickly than ever before. He certainly wasn¡¯t about to sign up to pay interest to the bank for the next several years. He opened the pouch and started counting out coins. ¨C--------- Bernt tied his loose notes and papers into a bundle with a bit of string and put it inside his shoddy-looking bag of holding. It didn¡¯t have an unlimited storage capacity ¨C not much more than a closet, really ¨C but it wasn¡¯t as though he had that much stuff. His books, an old novice¡¯s robe, cooking implements that he hadn¡¯t used since before he¡¯d last moved, a blanket, and a few other effects all fit into the bag with room to spare. He¡¯d need to buy some furnishings for the new place. And, he thought to himself as he adjusted his heavy new underkeepers¡¯ robes, some new clothes. Running around armored all the time was way too uncomfortable. Shouldering the bag, Bernt summoned Jori through their bond and started making his way down toward the Undercity. She reached him as he entered the Crafters¡¯ District and they walked down the street together in the fading evening light. People turned to watch them as they passed, but they didn¡¯t look overtly hostile anymore, as they had the first few weeks after Jori had gotten her papers and Ed had posted an official statement about her status. Bernt very much doubted that many people had seen that statement, but they couldn¡¯t have missed that neither guards nor solicitors ever came after him. Eventually, they¡¯d grown more used to the sight. Though, if Ed was to be believed, that didn¡¯t stop them from coming to him with complaints. It had only been a few hours since he¡¯d last been here, but the new guard station next to the gate had already been transformed. A door had been hung into the empty frame and a guard stood in front of it ¨C one dressed almost like a normal city guard, except for her gray tabard, which held the same symbol that was carved over the door of the new Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters. With some surprise, Bernt recognized her. It was Palina, the lantern-jawed senior guardswoman who had worked with him and Kustov during the kobold invasion. Apparently, she¡¯d decided to join the Underkeepers. He waved to her in greeting and she threw him an exaggeratedly crisp salute. ¡°Underkeeper Bernt!¡± she called and winked down at Jori, who waved back energetically. ¡°Evening.¡± ¡°Weren¡¯t they paying you enough in the regular guard?¡± Bernt asked, coming to a stop in front of her. ¡°I didn¡¯t think anyone would want to jump ship from the city guard to join us, considering the lack of sunlight and all the sewer work.¡± ¡°Ha!¡± Palina laughed. ¡°No, I¡¯m not doing that. I negotiated with the boss man. He needed experienced guards to teach the green recruits. And that crusty old Kustov recommended me. I got a nice pay raise out of the deal, and,¡± she gestured around her, ¡°I have the only sunlit post in the entire Undercity district!¡± Bernt grinned at her. ¡°Nice, congratulations!¡± ¡°Are you going on duty?¡± She asked, noting his robes. ¡°No, it¡¯s not that.¡± Bernt answered, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m actually moving down. I¡¯ve been having trouble finding a new place, and the Undercity is turning out a lot nicer than I was expecting.¡± Palina snorted, eyes crinkling deeply at the corners. ¡°Oh, I think it¡¯s turning out nicer than almost everyone was expecting. It¡¯s probably some political game, but nothing for the likes of us to worry about. No sense spitting in the eye of good fortune, right?¡± ¡°Right,¡± Bernt said, smiling as he headed down through the archway and Jori skipped after him. The trip down the tunnel felt shorter than last time ¨C it took maybe ten minutes to reach the Undercity¡¯s central marketplace. Surprisingly, it looked like he wasn¡¯t the only one eager to get moved in. While the place was mostly empty, there were already a few people walking around, taking in the new scenery or pulling carts across the square. Bernt pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and opened it up to check for his new address. The dwarven clerk had assigned him to what he thought of as the goblin quarter, probably because he hadn¡¯t wanted to put him into the obviously dwarven neighborhood. Following a rough map on the back of the piece of paper, Bernt went down the broad right-hand tunnel. The neighborhood was arranged like a wheel, with broad tunnels radiating out from a small park in the center that was encircled by a single larger tunnel. The first thing he noticed was the lack of normal sewer access shafts in the street. It was strange ¨C where was all the waste supposed to go? He couldn¡¯t imagine that Ed would be involved in building anything without a proper waste management system. Now that he thought about it, they couldn¡¯t exactly funnel an entire sewer system¡¯s wastewater anywhere from here ¨C the river was quite a ways up above this place. He¡¯d have to ask Ed about it some time. The walls were shaped into unfinished stone facades on all sides, revealing hundreds of plain living spaces with gaping holes where doors and shutters would go. There were a lot of homes, more than Bernt could imagine that they would need. Someone was planning for the future down here ¨C someone with access to a lot more geomancers than just Kustov and a few army engineers. By his guess, probably Iriala and the Mages¡¯ Guild. While the tunnels themselves were lit by the Archdruid¡¯s glowing vines, just as the central market area was, the homes were dark on the inside. That wouldn¡¯t be a problem for Bernt, but everyone else would have to get creative. Maybe they could just put some of those brightly glowing flowers in a vase. The more he thought about it, the more he appreciated the cleverness of using plants as a lighting solution. They looked nice, were accessible to everyone, and probably required little or no maintenance. It didn¡¯t take long to find the right address ¨C the clerk had apparently been listening after all. It was the third door down along the outer ring part of the neighborhood, almost right next to the thoroughfare that led back to the marketplace, but with enough distance that traffic wouldn¡¯t be going right by his door. A nice gesture and not one he would have expected from the surly dwarf. A few doors down on the other side of the street, he could see an enterprising goblin hammering shims in behind a jamb on a new door frame. Jori peered at him curiously. ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± she asked. Bernt, who was critically eying his own empty archway, looked back over at his new neighbor. ¡°He¡¯s making sure that the door jambs he installed are straight, so the door doesn¡¯t get stuck or drag on the ground when you open it.¡± ¡°Do we have to do that, too?¡± she asked, flinching back as the goblin shouted suddenly, threw his hammer against the wall, and then began kicking at the new door frame in rage. A moment later, a goblin woman stepped out of the door into the street, carrying a small child. She pressed the baby into the frothing man¡¯s hands, eyed the frame critically for a moment, and then pulled some of the shims back out again. Maybe Bernt could just straighten out the stone wall with magic. Sure he could. Maybe. Bernt sighed. ¡°Probably, yes.¡± Reaching into his robes, he grabbed at the now very light pouch of coins that hung around his neck. Maybe he could afford a carpenter? 2.9 Meeting with an Archmage ¡°I would hire a professional if I were you.¡± Kustov said with a shrug. ¡°There¡¯s really no way around it. An improperly installed door is a nightmare ¨C the kind of minor nuisance that will ruin your peace of mind just a little more every day. Don¡¯t worry too much about the cost. You can save on the furniture if you practice your stone shaping ¨C tables, shelves, a stove, a broad bench along a wall for a bed. You can make all of that stuff yourself, just as long as you pad the seats and the bed properly. Maybe some decorations, shaped right into the stonework on the outside. It¡¯ll be a good exercise for you. You can be a pyromancer all you want, but a mage living underground should at least have passing competency at geomancy.¡± Bernt sat across from the dwarf in the break room, sipping on a cup of hot tea. Within the past day, someone had found the time to move a few tables and chairs of various heights and sizes in, and now several of the new underkeepers sat scattered around the tables, awaiting their assignments. There was a small kitchen in one corner with running water and a stove, though there was nothing to light it with. One of the goblins, a cheerful older woman named Lin who wore a broad belt hung with an uncountable number of pouches of various sizes, had brought in a bag of some kind of herbal tea. Curious to try it, Kustov had helpfully shaped a large teapot and an entire cupboard''s worth of cups directly out of the wall. After that, they''d just needed to heat the water, and Bernt could handle that easily enough. Jori, as far as Bernt could sense, was already on the surface to pick up her interns. They were on a regular schedule and would be going to clear out the grates at street level in the Upper District today. Today was actually Bernt¡¯s day off, but he''d come into the new Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters anyway. He still had a few hours until his appointment at the Mages¡¯ Guild and an entire empty stone shell of a home to make livable. Not knowing where to start, he¡¯d decided to swallow his pride and go looking for advice. Kustov, as it turned out, was not only knowledgeable, but also happy to chat about what was clearly one of his personal interests. He was learning that homeownership, while solving the rent issue, came with a whole host of other problems to solve and things to pay for. ¡°Uh. I¡¯m not sure I can do that kind of stoneshaping.¡± he admitted, feeling more than a little embarrassed at the fact. ¡°Do you think you might be able to help me out?¡± ¡°No, no,¡± Kustov chuckled cheerfully. ¡°I¡¯d be cheating you out of an important learning opportunity. Learning for its own sake is boring, and here you¡¯ve got yourself some excellent motivation to get better in an area of magecraft that you¡¯ve previously neglected. It would be rude to take that away. Just start with the easy stuff. A bench for a bed, a shelf, that sort of thing.¡± ¡°Motivation¡­¡± Bernt grumbled a little grudgingly. ¡°I suppose. I¡¯m still going to start with the door, though.¡± It just didn¡¯t feel right to sleep somewhere that he couldn¡¯t close up properly. It made him feel exposed, like he was camping in a construction site. ¡°Do you know any decent carpenters?¡± ¨C-------- Two hours later, Bernt walked into the front office of the Mage¡¯s Guild. It was a tall building, a squat tower that sat straddling the corner where the Upper, Temple, and Lower Districts met and overlooked the Mage Academy. The Guild housed offices for various functionaries within the guild structure, overseeing the professional activities of mages all over the region. There were offices for agricultural water management, construction, dungeon security and containment, scrying services, warding, arcane research, and a few more that he couldn¡¯t remember off the top of his head. Anyone who wanted to sell their services to citizens on the open market or publish any research had to do so as a guild member and in accordance with guild standards ¨C unless they were working for the government or another powerful entity like the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. The front desk was manned by a thin, balding man who was busily duplicating forms or memos of some kind or another. The originals were written on a flexible cardstock, which was thick enough that the mages¡¯ duplication cantrip left two normal-looking paper copies. Bernt walked up to him and waited for a moment, but the man didn¡¯t appear to notice him. He picked up a stack of copies and held it out next to him. Two little hands reached up from behind the desk, accepting the stack, and Bernt just barely caught a glimpse of a knee-high monkey as it carried them off into a room behind the clerk ¨C probably where they kept their records. It was the first time he¡¯d seen another mage¡¯s familiar since his academy days. Familiars had fallen out of fashion a generation or two earlier, though Bernt never really understood why. None of the underkeepers had one, so far as he knew. Not sure what to do, Bernt stood there awkwardly for a moment and looked around. If he hadn¡¯t lost his apartment down by the docks, he might have used his savings to finally buy a guild license. Guild mages rarely went into pyromancy, but that didn¡¯t mean there was no work to be found. A pyromancer and a geomancer working together could, for example, single-handedly replace an entire city¡¯s brickworks, firing and glazing roof tiles, bricks and pottery more quickly and evenly than any natural fire. Bernt made a face at the thought of firing clay all day, every day. Sure, it was a lot safer than sewer work and not nearly so smelly, but there was a reason most cities didn¡¯t have a mage-dominated brick industry. Some things were just too boring to consider. ¡°Ahem. Can I help you?¡± Bernt started and looked back toward the desk. The secretary was giving him a skeptical stare that suggested that whatever reason had brought him in here had better be good. Right. The status of the Underkeepers might be shifting somewhat in the city in general, but that would hardly concern the Mages¡¯ Guild. Their order¡¯s history alone marked them as the dregs of their profession and it would take more than a few new responsibilities to change that. Now that he really thought about it, it was remarkable that the Underkeepers enjoyed so much formal support from Archmage Iriala and the guild, even considering that she and Ed were personal friends. That had to be causing some real tension within the guild itself. ¡°Uh, yes. I have an appointment with Archmage Iriala¡­¡± The man¡¯s skepticism visibly deepend at his words. ¡°Name?¡± ¡°Underkeeper Bernard¡± Bernt said calmly, doing his best to pretend that he didn¡¯t notice the man¡¯s attitude. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Ah, the warlock.¡± Bernt took a breath to refute the statement, but then just let it out in a soft, resigned sigh. What was the point? Nothing that he said here was going to get this man¡¯s respect. And what exactly did he need that for, anyway? ¡°Which way is it?¡± he asked shortly. ¡°Stairs on your left to the third floor, then all the way down the hall to your right.¡± The secretary said, as he marked something down on a clipboard that he had sitting in front of him and turned back to his paperwork. ¡°You can¡¯t miss it.¡± ¨C----- ¡°Enter!¡± Iriala called, putting down her pen as she glanced up at the dwarven water clock she had installed on her wall. The underkeeper boy was late. The door opened and he stepped inside, scowling in a distracted manner that reminded her oddly of Ed. The old goat was rubbing off on him. ¡°If you go on scowling at people like that, they¡¯re going to think you¡¯re carrying a grudge. You should be mindful of what your face is communicating to the world.¡± Bernt blinked with surprise and schooled his features. ¡°Better,¡± Iriala nodded. ¡°Now, what do you want?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± the young mage floundered for a moment, clearly trying to work out the right way to start. ¡°Sorry, Archmage. I¡¯m working on an Illurian naval pyromancer¡¯s mana network architecture, on Ed¡¯s recommendation.¡± Iriala frowned slightly. She¡¯d never liked that Ed let his subordinates address him so casually. It undermined his status, and that wasn¡¯t really something he could afford in his position. But it was his organization, and it wasn¡¯t as though he was going to start listening now. The underkeeper noticed her expression and swallowed nervously. She knew which architecture he was talking about ¨C it might be rare in Besermark, but it was also famous. Not a bad choice for underground usage, at least compared to traditional Beseri pyromancy. It was a tricky augmentation to master when it was complete, and powerful enough to justify its use despite its high failure rate ¨C at least to the Illurians. This could be more interesting than she¡¯d expected. ¡°So, I¡¯m currently trying to source the material for my second investiture ¨C a perpetual flame. I was hoping you might be able to help me, since those aren¡¯t exactly available on the open market.¡± Iriala nodded. ¡°We do have one in containment. You could, perhaps, propagate another one from it for your investiture.¡± Bernt¡¯s expression relaxed and he opened his mouth to talk, but she cut him off. ¡°Of course, I¡¯d say that the guild has already done you quite a significant favor with regard to your demon familiar.¡± She said, staring at him over the top of her glasses. ¡°And you¡¯re not even a member. I don¡¯t know that it¡¯s appropriate for me to invest in you in this manner. Have you spoken with Archmage Thurdred about this?¡± She emphasized Ed¡¯s title a little. She couldn¡¯t help it. Hierarchies mattered, gods damn it. Bernt swallowed. ¡°No. Should I have?¡± Iriala shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s your direct superior ¨C nobody has a stronger interest in seeing you grow. Granted, he doesn¡¯t have what you need.¡± This was pointless, why was she dragging this out? She had another meeting in ten minutes and way too much paperwork to deal with. The boy could learn to think strategically on his own time. ¡°If you¡¯re part of the guild, then an investment in you is an investment in ourselves. You can use the flame if you become a member. You should have done that as soon as you could afford it in the first place. You¡¯re an academy-trained professional, not a hedge mage or a foreigner ¨C there¡¯s nothing to disqualify you, as much as people might sneer at your choice of vocation. Besides, you¡¯re never going to get anywhere without access to a proper library.¡± He wouldn¡¯t be the first young mage to chafe at the restrictions the guild placed on them. It wasn¡¯t terribly unusual for someone to try to find a way to get around it. But those who did had to find some other way to access the resources they needed. Even most of those who turned to adventuring would buy a guild membership eventually, if only to access the library. Independence was only practical for so long. She expected Bernt would try to argue with her, but he only nodded, watching her expectantly. ¡°Good. In addition, I want you to keep an eye on that solicitor girl that Radast sent to the Underkeepers. Just¡­ let me know if she does anything unusual or interesting, or if you learn anything of note about the solicitors¡¯ activities.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t trust them?¡± he said, eyebrows rising slightly in faint surprise. ¡°I thought we were all working together now¡­¡± Iriala smiled humorlessly at him. ¡°I trust them just fine, young man. The Solicitors are always good to the letter of their contracts and I expect that they are reliable allies. But this is a political relationship. We can¡¯t expect them to take our interests into account any more than they absolutely have to. I¡¯m not going to waste all my time looking into their affairs, but it would be foolish not to at least keep some eyes and ears open.¡± Bernt swallowed, apparently a little uncomfortable with the idea of spying on his new co-worker. But, after a few moments, he nodded again. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll need a bit of time to come up with the funds for the membership¡­¡± Iriala waved dismissively. ¡°Take all the time you need. You know where to find us.¡± If she could get Bernt to join the guild, it could simplify a few problems for her. It would give her more direct influence over him, for one. The young underkeeper and his imp could be quite useful if they were properly directed. While Iriala was juggling a variety of other concerns and interests, she needed to help both the Underkeepers and the Solicitors build more popular support for themselves in the near or medium term. It was a necessary step in legitimizing them as real political players and building a power base for them, which they would in turn use to support Iriala¡¯s own larger goals ¨C chiefly, developing a broader base of support for the Mages¡¯ Guild, which was overly reliant on the good will of the crown. That was mostly due to an obsolete, calcified balance of power between various guilds, the nobility and the most powerful temples, but the irritating result was that building up new political players was simpler and quicker than attempting to reconfigure old alliances. Their close relationship to the political elite had historically made the Mages¡¯ Guild one of the most powerful institutions in the realm, but it also robbed them of the ability to pursue their own political interests where they conflicted with those of the crown. That was going to change. ¨C------ Bernt breathed a sigh of relief as he left the Archmage¡¯s office. That could have gone worse. He¡¯d already known that he would need to become a guild member eventually, which made it a relatively small price to pay, ignoring for a moment the very significant amount of gold he would be spending on it. Her other demand didn¡¯t sit as well with him. It wasn¡¯t as though he trusted the warlocks. No, it was more that he felt uncomfortable with the idea of spying on Josie. It just didn¡¯t feel right. But, on the other hand, it wasn¡¯t as though they were going to do anything to her personally. The guild was just watching its own back, and probably that of the Underkeepers as well. This wasn¡¯t going to get him his next investiture immediately, but it was achievable and he wouldn¡¯t have to anger any other guilds or delve into any dungeons. All things considered, things were looking up. 2.10 Infiltrators Jori waved to the guard as she made her way back down into the Undercity ¨C it was a human man that she''d met before, but she couldn¡¯t remember his name. He inclined his head at her in response. Today was a good day. People were finally getting a little friendlier, or they were getting used to seeing her and Gnugg in the street, at least. A nice woman in the Crafters¡¯ District had even tossed a dead rat to her as she passed. How nice! Traffic was still light in the tunnel, but it wasn¡¯t empty anymore. A trickle of people trailed in and out alongside the ever-present military traffic coming from the former dungeon, some pulling carts or carrying heavy loads as they moved in. As she passed by the intersection where the soldiers branched off toward the army, though, she felt a shiver trail down her neck and into her wings. Jori glanced around, trying to find the source of the uncomfortably familiar sensation. Something was watching her, she was sure of it. Her heart started to beat faster and a jumble of frantic memories flashed through her mind. Running alongside other spawnling imps as fiends chased them, trying to bring one of them down. Surviving chase after chase as their swarm of spawnlings slowly shrank into a mob and then a pack. Finally, hiding in a small hole and watching as those who remained bowed under the horrible pressure of a lesser demon¡¯s gaze as it bound them into its service. Fighting, running, hiding. An existence of pure terror. The paralyzing fear gripped her for only a fraction of a second before it burned up in a rising sea of anger. She was not helpless. Not anymore. Growling, she looked more closely, whirling around to check every nook and crevice. Some of the passersby were looking at her a bit apprehensively, but they weren¡¯t stopping to stare. Many were just ignoring her and going on by. An older dwarf glared balefully at her as he went by, but he didn¡¯t slow down or stare either. They didn¡¯t sense it. She turned back toward the intersection just in time to see a shadow flicker across the ceiling, briefly darkening the glowing vines that were spread across it to illuminate the thoroughfare below. Nobody else had noticed. Shivering again, Jori picked up her pace and hurried down the tunnel toward Headquarters. She needed to tell someone. ¨C-------- Josie picked up the very last thumb-thick stack of random memos and procedural documents and scanned each page before filing it in one of the folders laid out in front of her. She¡¯d spent the entire day shuffling papers around in the back of what was supposed to become Ed¡¯s office. While Fiora had apparently made an effort to organize some of the Underkeepers¡¯ recent paperwork, the vast majority of their records were ¡°organized¡± only in the sense that the boxes containing them were dated by year. The magistrate had no interest in pursuing any kind of complaint leveled against the order or fining them, considering that their budget was drawn directly from the Count¡¯s own coffers. Still, Ed and apparently his predecessor, had leaned very hard on their status as a government organization. If the crown ever actually decided to audit the Underkeepers, they would be faced with incomplete and jumbled records. The head of any normal organization would fear for their job! Of course, Ed and many of his people were already in their posts as a form of punishment. Firing them would be doing them a favor. If anything, it might free them from whatever coercion the nobles who had put them there were using to keep them from leaving. But all that didn¡¯t matter to Josie as she filed the last memo and began systematically organizing the folders, placing each one on the massive stone shelves that Kustov had erected for her hours earlier. It was about the principle of the thing. Any organization, but especially a government agency, should have well-kept records of their activities. It was just the right thing to do. As she turned to pick up another folder, something small ran into the room at breakneck speed. On reflex, Josie took a step back, gritting her teeth and manifesting her claws, but the intruder didn¡¯t attack. Jori stood in the doorway, head swiveling left and right as she checked the room. Her demonic soul radiated a phantom reddish light into the air around her that flickered slightly as if it were on fire, like all of the denizens of the third hell. ¡°Warlock!¡± she said, eyeing her warily, ¡°have you seen the Great Mage?¡± ¡°The archmage is on the surface, at the old headquarters, I think.¡± Josie looked at the imp, mirroring her careful attitude. ¡°I don¡¯t really know for sure. What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°I sensed a predator in the tunnels.¡± Jori explained, gesturing animatedly behind her. ¡°Another demon. A shade, I think. I saw a shadow move, but I can¡¯t be sure exactly.¡± ¡°Huh. Um... Solicitor Radast has a pacted shade.¡±Josie said a little doubtfully. ¡°Maybe he sent it out to take a look around¡­¡± She knew Radast¡¯s pacted shade made for an excellent spy, but what would it be looking for in the tunnel of all places? Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Jori apparently didn''t believe it either. The little imp scoffed. ¡°Your master doesn¡¯t need to send an invisible spy into the Undercity. He has you here.¡± Josie didn¡¯t react to the implied accusation. Jori¡¯s tone had been matter of fact and besides, any intelligent demon would consider such behavior to be simple common sense. ¡°Alright, so the duergar are sending demon spies,¡± Josie considered. ¡°That¡¯s not ideal, but it¡¯s not necessarily urgent. We don¡¯t have a counter-espionage protocol, but we should tell someone in authority and let them deal with it.¡± Jori rolled her eyes. ¡°Yes, obviously. That¡¯s why I am here. I need to find the Great Mage Ed.¡± ¡°Nonsense,¡± Josie shook her head. ¡°Come on!¡± Being careful not to touch her, Josie squeezed past the little creature and crossed the hall, where a door had already been installed in a smaller office. She knocked politely three times and waited. ¡°Come in, Josie,¡± said a tired voice from inside. She opened the door and gestured to Jori to follow. ¡°How did you know it was me?¡± she asked as she stepped inside. Fiora was bent over a desk and filling out paperwork of some kind or other. Like all ranking mages, the woman¡¯s soul had been reshaped. She could see the woman¡¯s mana network like an intricate abstract sculpture that wove its way through her body, shining too brightly for her flesh or clothes to hide and extending down all four limbs and into her head. It was distracting and Josie suppressed the ability with a thought, closing the phantom third eye that her pact had granted her. The older woman snorted. ¡°You¡¯re the only one in this damned place who knocks. What do you need?¡± Looking up, Fiora finally caught sight of Jori. Her eyebrows went up in a small expression of surprise. ¡°Uh. What¡¯s going on?¡± It only took a moment to catch her up. The previously tired-looking woman practically bolted from her chair, snatched up her short staff and shot past them out the door. Both Josie and the demon stared after her lamely for a moment before hurrying to catch up. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Josie asked, disturbed at Fiora¡¯s sudden urgency. ¡°What does it mean?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t send spies out to lurk at intersections.¡± She said shortly. ¡°That¡¯s where you would put a scout. Unless the thing just happened to be passing through, the enemy is making a move.¡± Gesturing with one hand as she walked, Fiora emerged into the courtyard area at the front of the complex and slammed her staff into the ground with an unnaturally loud, hollow booming noise. About ten guards were training there under Palina¡¯s watchful gaze. Off to one side, Yarrod, the gnome underkeeper, was facing off with a knife against a short human man. Everyone stopped at the loud noise and turned to look. ¡°Potential contact up toward the gate!¡± Fiora barked. ¡°Everyone with me. Move!¡± The guards exchanged uncertain glances for a moment, then Palina began bawling orders at them at the top of her lungs. They hadn¡¯t been in training long, but it was enough to get them lined up and moving. Yarrod caught up just a few moments later, carrying his new staff. It took them only a few minutes to make their way up toward the intersection, the main tunnel curving off toward the right and to the surface, and the smaller left-hand tunnel to where the army was stationed. Fiora called a halt and they looked around nervously. A few of the guards started muttering to each other, but Palina shushed them. Everything looked¡­ completely normal. Fiora turned to Jori. ¡°Anything?¡± The little imp¡¯s wings twitched and her needle-teeth were bared in a snarl, her eyes locked on the leftward tunnel. But nothing was moving there. A little hesitantly, Josie opened her third eye again. Was someone hiding in plain sight? She didn¡¯t see anything right away, but they all heard it. Steps approached, marching in unison. A few moments later, a small group of soldiers emerged, wearing Beseri uniforms and carrying spears. At a glance, nothing was wrong with them. Nothing except that they were all dwarves, that is. That, and Josie could clearly see the demonic souls riding along in two of them. Warlocks throughout time had attempted a wide range of different kinds of pacts and arrangements with demons, but sharing a body with one was, in Josie¡¯s opinion, by far the most foolish. A demon¡¯s soul didn¡¯t strictly need its own body to function on the material plane, so long as it resided in a body. A warlock who chose to accommodate a demon in this manner could gain full access to the creature¡¯s abilities. Of course, the demon would also gain access to the warlock¡¯s body to some degree. It was practically unavoidable. That alone made the practice illegal in Besermark, but the Solicitors further had their own internal policies against it. One of the dwarves had a fiery red aura, similar to Jori¡¯s. The other¡¯s was a muted gray, which meant she was looking at a demon from the first hell. These robbed souls of their will. If it was at least a class 3 demon, it could effectively paralyze living people into total complacency ¨C though probably only one at a time. None of them looked their way. Apparently, they didn¡¯t expect to be stopped. Taking a quick step, Josie tapped Fiora on the shoulder and explained what she was seeing. The older underkeeper had, of course, already noticed the dwarves and was already watching them with suspicion. It was remarkable that they''d made it past the army camp without raising any alarms ¨C probably the work of the demon with the gray aura. ¡°Which one is the most dangerous?¡± Fiora asked calmly. ¡°That one,¡± Josie replied, pointing at the one with the red aura. ¡°I''m guessing he¡¯ll probably try to set fire to the city. With hellfire.¡± Without wasting a second, Fiora leveled her staff at the offending dwarf. A brilliant lance of light shot out of it, but didn¡¯t strike the target. Another dwarf saw the motion and stepped directly into the attack, shielding him. He went down, his chest caved in unnaturally as if he¡¯d been crushed by a massive hammer. Blood ran from his mouth. Then, everything happened at once. Palina roared at her guards to move, the normal duergar soldiers turned to fight, and the two demon-possessed dwarves sprinted up the tunnel, disappearing around the bend. Josie summoned the claws of her midnight hag, trying to think of some way, any way, to stop those damned demons from getting up into the city when, up on the ceiling five paces above, she saw Jori scuttle after the offending creatures faster than a man could run, hissing in rage like a boiling kettle. 2.11 Firefight Bernt slowly made his way down from the Upper District, sore and exhausted from a late afternoon sparring session with Therion. The other mage claimed he was getting better, but Bernt wasn¡¯t sure that was true ¡ª not judging by the beating he took every time. He was trying to think of new and creative ways to apply cantrips in a fight when he saw a massive plume of fire rise in the distance. It came from the crafter¡¯s district, and that just couldn¡¯t be a good sign. He couldn¡¯t be entirely sure, of course, but he knew this city well. Picking up his pace, Bernt hurried down the street, weaving around slow-moving pedestrians and the occasional cart. After reaching the internal gate that took him into the Lower District, he took a left. That would take him through the Temple District, which he¡¯d been avoiding for several weeks now. The Temple District was populated mostly by priests, paladins, and their families. While not all of them knew or cared about him personally, very few of the gods had a neutral policy toward demons or warlocks, and none had anything like a friendly outlook. He had to be careful. The gods themselves, fortunately, would likely know that he wasn¡¯t a real warlock, so he probably wouldn¡¯t have to fear a direct smiting for stepping too close to the wrong temple. But being recognized could cause some problems ¡ªit might slow him down. Right now, though, it was worth the risk. He hurried down the street, which opened up into a wide open plaza. It was ringed with temples, shrines, and even a tiny sacred grove. People bustled about, often dressed in the colors of specific deities, or in the brilliant white of unchosen acolytes. The temple of Garrus, where he¡¯d repaired a drainpipe just before his first dungeon delve, was located just around the corner from here. Relatively minor agricultural deities didn¡¯t rate placement directly on the main plaza. Taking care not to draw attention to himself, Bernt hurried across the plaza to the far side, which would take him directly into the Crafters¡¯ District. Everyone else seemed to either be looking toward the Crafters¡¯ District themselves, likely concerned about what was going on there, or completely ignoring the situation as if what went on outside their own temples was of no consequence to them. He almost made it across without incident, but then heard a familiar voice call his name. ¡°Hey, Bernt!¡± Syrah called out. ¡°Where are you off to so quick?¡± He looked back to see the cleric waving and hurrying toward him. ¡°Did you see the fire?¡± Bernt asked, letting her catch up before picking up the pace again. ¡°I think it was over by the breach. I kind of doubt it was an accidental alchemical explosion.¡± ¡°Yes, true enough.¡± Syrah said, frowning. ¡°Something isn''t right in that direction. Your demon friend, or one of her ilk.¡± Bernt narrowed his eyes a little, but didn¡¯t bother to argue. He wasn¡¯t going to change her mind. ¡°I¡¯m going to help. Are you coming?¡± She snorted and sped up, forcing Bernt into a trot to keep up. ¨C------- Bernt wasn¡¯t sure what exactly he was expecting to find when they arrived. Maybe the entire street in flames, the new gate collapsed, or a horde of duergar spilling out of the old breach. What he wasn¡¯t expecting to find was Jori dueling with a single, mad, hellfire-slinging dwarf. He could see the fight from her perspective in disorienting detail well before they reached the plaza in front of the Undercity Gates. The imp clung to the back of the dwarf¡¯s head and shoulders and poured fire down onto his face. At the same time, the dwarf blindly threw fire back at her over his shoulder and danced in a little circle, screaming incoherently. Both demonic combatants burned and howled in pain, but neither were consumed in the flames that ate into the cobbles beneath their feet. Jori jumped off the dwarf and flew back, landing hard on her back. He could feel the phantom sensation of a wing breaking as it was awkwardly bent underneath her. The green underkeeper guard who¡¯d been stationed at the new Undercity Gate stood a few steps away, clutching haplessly at his spear as if unsure what to do. Regular city guards were arriving as well, but they kept their distance as well. They were understandably not eager to throw themselves into a hellfire-fight. One passed his spear to another guard and ran off again, presumably to get help from someone who could deal with this. They would take too long, Bernt was sure. Further away, he glimpsed people watching from windows and around corners, but nobody moved to help. Considering what was happening, he couldn''t really blame them. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Horrific burn wounds closed almost immediately on both combantants. Pebbled scar tissue grew over them in seconds, and then faded and smoothed into new skin. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how demons normally fought, but seeing that, he doubted he was going to get anywhere with his usual fire spells. ¡°Can you fight demons?¡± Bernt gasped out at Syrah, out of breath as they raced toward the fight. ¡°It¡¯s some kind of demonic warlock ¨C he¡¯s fighting Jori.¡± The dwarf shook her head. ¡°Do I look like a paladin to you?¡± She didn¡¯t slow down though, to her credit. Jori was back in the fight now, raking her claws down the back of the warlock dwarf¡¯s leg as it tried to keep moving into the city. Apparently it was more interested in getting somewhere than it was in winning the fight. That implied a specific target, beyond just getting up into the city and making a big mess. Concentrating, he brought up his wand and began tracing a spell in the air. It was a guess, but he figured it was a pretty good one, considering where he¡¯d found the spell. Even if it didn¡¯t, it would at least distract the monstrous duergar long enough for Jori to do something. He hoped. Cold fire, when he¡¯d finally gotten around to casting it at an old, rotting log down by the river the other day, didn¡¯t really do very much to physical objects. The wood had blackened and bubbled oddly, but nothing more. Casting it correctly would take him a moment, and he¡¯d need the time until they reached the fight up around the next corner. Thanks to his familiar bond with Jori, Bernt knew exactly where the dwarf was when he rounded the corner, facing mostly away from him. He slung bits of hellfire back at Jori as he limped off toward the far side of the small plaza, where several of the nervous city guards were waiting. They didn¡¯t want to fight the warlock, but they weren¡¯t going to let it run wild in the city, either. Bernt sprinted toward the warlock. He hadn¡¯t had time to modify the spell ¨C it was still just a loose cone of fire, not a fireball or anything that would cross the distance to the dwarf without also striking Jori or just diffusing into the air short of the target. He needed to close in quickly. When the dwarf noticed him and turned, Bernt was within just a few strides of him. It was close enough. With a snarl, he unleashed the spell. He was too slow. The warlock flung a hand toward him and lobbed what looked like a liquid gobbet of fire directly at him. The two attacks met in the air. Only then did Bernt realize that he¡¯d completely forgotten to remove the effects of his investiture from the spell. Rather than the plume of gray fire he expected, a broad stream of flickering, burning silver sprayed out against the dwarf¡¯s head and shoulders and splashed down onto his legs and feet. The ball of hellfire barely cut through the silver flames, coming out as little more than a translucent wisp of flame. Still, it flew true and struck Bernt¡¯s right arm with a sizzling hiss. Bernt gasped and shook his arm, as if trying to shake the fire off, but it was already out. Still, it hurt, radiating bone-deep pain all the way up to his shoulder. The screech that tore from the warlock¡¯s throat was too loud and high-pitched to come from a dwarf. It was inhuman agony tearing from a mortal throat. He flailed for a second, then dropped to his knees in shuddering silence. When the fire went out ¨C it couldn¡¯t have been more than two or three seconds ¨C the dwarf looked ruined. His skin was cracked and peeling off, charred black where it had curled away from the body. Unlike before, no hellfire gushed out of the wounds to close or regenerate his wounds. A soft hiss of pain escaped his lips, followed by a single ragged inhale, then Jori was on him. She sprang at him and tore out his throat with her long, clawed fingers. Hellfire gushed out, and Jori hissed in pain, but she reached in with her other hand and tore again as the flesh threatened to grow back. The enemy warlock died messily. Bernt groaned, cradling his wounded arm. He wiggled his fingers to make sure they still worked and breathed a sigh of relief when they did. Then Syrah was there, pulling up his sleeve to get a better look at the injury. A part of his lower arm was colored an angry red, with skin sloughing off the top in parts. At the center, the skin was burned clear through in a rough oval shape, and he could see burned flesh beneath. The robe hadn¡¯t been damaged, somehow. It must have slid down his arm when he was casting. She eyed the wound critically before laying her hand over it and muttering something under her breath. Then she took a small bottle from her belt and poured water out over the wound. The pain lessened almost immediately, as if he¡¯d plunged the arm down into a barrel of icy-cold water. He breathed a sigh of relief and sat down on the ground. Syrah bent down to follow the motion and kept murmuring her prayer. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how long he sat there, but soon other people began to arrive. The city guards arrived first, several going to watch the gate, while one who looked like he might be in charge asked if anyone else had been hurt and if anyone had seen what caused the big explosion earlier. ¡°I saw it. I think it was some kind of alchemical device.¡± explained the gray-clad underkeeper guard, who¡¯d finally decided to join them. ¡°These two dwarves came running up out of the tunnel ¨C this one had a kind of strange-shaped bottle. It wasn¡¯t very big. When the imp came up after them and started throwing fire at them. I thought the demon was attacking our people at first. But then the weird dwarf¡¯s eyes glowed and he started throwing fire right back. The bottle got hit and you saw what happened then. I thought the fight was over. The other dwarf disappeared ¨C ran off or got blown up, I don¡¯t really know. This one was fine, though, barely a scratch.¡± The guards turned to look over at Jori, who was trying to wipe her claws off on the dead duergar warlock¡¯s shirt. While the dwarf was badly scorched, his clothes had taken relatively minor damage ¨C an effect of the cold fire, Bernt suspected. It interacted harshly with hellfire, and it prevented the demon from healing. If he was right, he¡¯d stumbled on something specifically designed to fight demons. He¡¯d have to see how it did against enemies that weren¡¯t suffused with infernal power. A challenge sounded from the Undercity Gate, and was met with an angry retort. A moment later, a small group of gray-uniformed underkeepers poured out onto the plaza, led by Fiora. A few looked injured, and Bernt wondered what exactly had happened down there. Had the uneasy peace finally broken? Josie ran out ahead and waved to Jori. ¡°Did you get them?¡± Jori shook her head, and Bernt felt regret echo through their familiar bond. ¡°Just the one.¡± she told the Solicitor. ¡°The other one got away.¡± 2.12 Pursuit ¡°We need to find him, now!¡± Fiora insisted to the exasperated guard officer. ¡°He might be carrying an alchemical device like the other one, there¡¯s no way to know ¨C and no telling how much damage it could do if it was used in the wrong spot.¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯m aware of that,¡± the officer said through a long-suffering sigh. ¡°But we have strict jurisdictional boundaries. I can¡¯t just let you run around fighting and arresting people up here. I¡¯ve passed your report along already, and they¡¯re setting up checkpoints to intercept and stop any duergar as we speak. They might have passed for normal dwarves at first, but that¡¯s not going to work when our guards are actually paying attention.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the point!¡± Fiora fumed. ¡°He¡¯s a warlock, not just any duergar. Who knows what he could do if he just hid somewhere for a while? A hostile summoner in a city full of civilians? This is a disaster waiting to happen!¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am, I am not underestimating the threat. We¡¯ve informed the Mages¡¯ Guild''s scryers and the Paladins¡¯ Hall and I¡¯d expect that a bounty will be up on the intruders¡¯ head with the Adventurers¡¯ Guild within a few minutes. You have your own area to worry about. Go make sure that you don¡¯t have a team like that bursting into your shiny new district while you¡¯re up here talking to me.¡± Fiora paced in agitation for a few seconds, then she spun and walked toward Bernt ¨C and right past him to face Josie, who he only then realized was standing right next to him. His eyes widened a little at the sight of her. The Underkeepers¡¯ Solicitor had, apparently, gotten her new gear. It was a long, open coat in dark gray to match her new colleagues. Underneath she had a sturdy armored vest made of artfully overlapping layers of heavy gray and dark red canvas. The entire thing was so heavily enchanted that Bernt could sense it from two steps away. It would probably stop a berserker, and it was much lighter than what he was wearing. ¡°Josie, you¡¯re free to go for the day.¡± Fiora announced before pointedly looking westward. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have other responsibilities to see to anyway. Go!¡± Josie blinked in surprise, but then simply nodded and started walking. The guard officer, whose eyes had been on them the entire time, watched her go a bit skeptically and grimaced slightly, but he didn¡¯t interfere. Bernt could practically see him decide that this wasn¡¯t his problem. ¡°Alright, everybody, back down to Headquarters,¡± Fiora said. ¡°We need to cover our end, and we need to get in contact with General Arice ¨C I doubt he even knows that his lines have been compromised.¡± Bernt whipped his head around in surprise. That was it? There was no way. Ed probably didn¡¯t even know what happened yet. He got up, testing his hand, and then moved to join the others. It felt as if he¡¯d never burned it in the first place. Syrah, he saw, was still working on a few of the other injured underkeepers. Her healing abilities were really quite something. Something hard poked him in the chest and Bernt stopped. He looked down and found the knobby handle of Fiora¡¯s staff planted there. ¡°Bernt,¡± Fiora chided, eyes narrowed. ¡°What are you doing at work on your day off?¡± She gave him a little push and he fell back a step. ¡°Go home.¡± Taking the hint, Bernt turned to follow Josie. As he did, he reached for Jori¡¯s mind with the familiar bond to nudge her to follow, only to realize that she was already gone. A quick glimpse through the bond revealed her racing along rooftops in a dizzying series of running leaps. She was already shadowing Josie from above and watching the streets for their quarry. Feeling a little unsteady at the transmitted sensations, he drew back his senses and hurried after. ¨C------- Josie jogged through the temple district toward the Solicitors¡¯ Office, being careful to give the temple of Balarian a wide berth. The god of storms had lost an entire congregation to an especially foolish orcish warlock about a century earlier. He¡¯d wiped the warlock from existence in retaliation, but his wrath wasn¡¯t satisfied ¨C he¡¯d still lost well over a hundred souls to the hells. Balarian had harbored more than a little ill will toward warlocks in general since then. It was best to steer clear of his temple whenever possible. Most warlocks avoided ship voyages for the same reason. Josie walked on the opposite side of the plaza, passing rather close to a few other temples that she was fairly sure no warlocks had specifically offended in recent history, when she saw it ¨C a dwarf was pushing through a small group of people who were just¡­ standing around, staring at nothing in particular. He had that same odd, gray aura around him. She rushed after, trying not to lose sight of him behind the taller pedestrians that stood between them. When she reached the group, they were just starting to look around in confusion ¨C the first sign of recovery from having their will drained. The demon had to be fairly powerful to affect multiple living people at once, class 4 at least. Fortunately, the denizens of the first hell weren¡¯t especially dangerous as demons went. They could incapacitate almost anyone, but a minor or lesser demon couldn¡¯t cause any lasting harm. As she pushed past them, she caught sight of the dwarf again as he stepped around a corner into a side street. She ran to catch up. If she could reach the other warlock before he got where he was going, she could probably stop him. Her own abilities wouldn¡¯t affect the demon, but the dwarf himself would be vulnerable. Turning the corner, Josie saw that the dwarf had stopped ¨C apparently he hadn¡¯t seen her following him. He¡¯d lifted a grate over a window well next to a large building and was trying to climb down into it. ¡°Hey!¡± Josie called out. ¡°Stop right there!¡± She needed to get closer. Just a bit. The dwarf stopped and looked at her, eyes widening. Then, just as he opened his mouth to speak, Josie screamed. It was a penetrating, hollow sound, like a windstorm tearing through a canyon. She didn¡¯t feel it¡¯s supernatural effect herself, except as a painfully cold liquid sensation that froze her throat as the sound escaped and instantly gave her a headache. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The dwarf froze, an expression of horror and deep despair written over his features. It only lasted a moment, then he shook his head and gritted his teeth. She was closer now, almost close enough to reach him. Josie summoned her claws and closed the distance. In the space of a heartbeat, the dark color bled out of the dwarf¡¯s eyes completely, leaving them completely gray. His face relaxed and he said, in a completely dead, toneless voice. ¡°Stop.¡± Stop what? Josie wondered. What had she been doing, exactly? ¡°It is done. You need not be concerned.¡± She stared at the dwarf and, right now, she just couldn¡¯t remember why he mattered. Rather, she couldn¡¯t work up the effort to think about it. Why bother? There was a hissing sound up above her, but she didn¡¯t look. It didn¡¯t mean anything. Nothing did. Something bright and hot seared into her vision before slamming down into the window well with a sizzling noise and an awful smell. It was hellfire, she knew, but the dwarf was gone. A small figure dove down after it. An imp. She watched it go by, disappearing down the hole. The imp¡¯s name was Jori. Jori was hunting the warlock. The warlock was bad ¨C an enemy. That meant that someone needed to stop him. As Josie began stringing concepts together into ideas, and ideas into the beginnings of a purpose, a hand landed on her shoulder. She looked up and found Bernt standing there. What was he doing here? ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked, staring at her as if he was trying to see into her head. She nodded a little tiredly. ¡°Go. Don¡¯t let it talk to you. I¡¯ll be fine in a minute.¡± He looked unsure, but moved toward the window well as if he already knew where to go. Bernt already knew where Jori was, of course, or at least where she¡¯d been. There was a lot of information out there regarding what exactly a familiar bond was and what it enabled a mage and their bound familiar to do, but most of it was just based on rumors or badly outdated. Familiars just weren¡¯t very popular these days, so few people actually got to observe them. Besides, the Mages¡¯ Guild kept a tight lid on what they considered proprietary information, so existing publicly available records had a way of disappearing. Idly, Josie considered writing up a report on familiars based on Jori and Bernt. The Solicitors could surely use a reliable eyewitness report for their own local library. She would have thought that any constant telepathic connection to a demon would drive a mortal completely insane in a matter of hours. She¡¯d seen into the mind of a midnight hag for only a moment when she¡¯d received her third eye, and that was enough for lifetime. But Bernt wasn¡¯t insane - he was just crazy. That alone was enough, now that she really considered it. She should write a report about it. ¨C------- Bernt swung himself down through the broken window into the basement of the building, landing in a plain-looking hallway. Without hesitating, he ran forward to the third door on the left and stepped through ¨C following the path that he¡¯d just seen Jori take in pursuit of the strange dwarf. The dwarf had Jori by the throat, her feet kicking at nothing in the air as her claws gouged deep bloody furrows into his beefy forearms. She was panicking ¨C not thinking straight, or she would have simply melted the dwarf¡¯s face off with hellfire. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how the dwarf had managed to catch her, but he was ready. He¡¯d begun casting the moment his feet touched the ground five seconds earlier and this time, he¡¯d even remembered to cast the spell correctly. Being careful not to hit Jori, Bernt unleashed cold fire at the dwarf, who¡¯d already started to turn to react to the new threat. As he did, a burning pain shot up his arm, radiating out from his hand and forearm. He flinched and hissed in pain as the spell fizzled and failed ¨C mostly. A thin wisp of fire licked across the duergar warlock¡¯s face and he gasped, dropping Jori as he drew what remained of the sorcerous flames right down his throat. His eyes bulged and he let out a wet and raspy sounding cough. Blood ran from his mouth. Bernt barely noticed. He was focused on his aching hand. What in the hells was going on? It felt almost like when he¡¯d strained his mana network during the battle against the kobolds a month earlier, but this time there had been no warning at all. Had he bungled the spell so badly? Or had it been that other warlock¡¯s hellfire back at the Undercity Gate? Bernt wasn¡¯t any kind of scholar, but he was sure that hellfire wasn¡¯t supposed to be able to do that ¨C at least not to a living person. When hellfire kindled in Jori¡¯s clawed hand, Bernt¡¯s heart almost seized in his chest. If she threw that around in here, she could easily set the entire building on fire ¨C never mind if the dwarf had another one of those firebombs on him. Jori let the fire go out and he breathed out a sigh of relief ¨C she¡¯d sensed Bernt¡¯s concerns and interpreted them correctly. The dwarf looked back and forth between them now, backing away and trying to say something, but nothing intelligible came out. His tongue and throat were both damaged. Jori advanced on him with an angry hiss, murderous intent radiating off her every movement. Her body tensed as she prepared to leap at him. ¡°Stop!¡± Josie gasped, standing in the doorway before pointing a finger right at the dwarf. ¡°Get down on the ground and keep your mouth shut tight! You¡¯re a prisoner of the Halfbridge Solicitors.¡± The dwarf glared at her and backed up another step, his back hitting a wall. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Bernt said, ¡°Can you do that?¡± He hadn¡¯t been thinking in terms of taking prisoners, but even if they did, they would have to bring him to the city¡¯s dungeons. He was an enemy combatant, after all. Josie smirked smugly. ¡°According to Beseri law he¡¯s a rogue warlock, so yes. I¡¯m not on duty as an underkeeper, and I¡¯m pretty sure you aren¡¯t either. We couldn¡¯t arrest him on the Count¡¯s authority if we wanted to.¡± Her smirk bloomed into a feral smile. ¡°Which I don¡¯t. Also, if he doesn¡¯t cooperate we can just turn him over to the paladins in their primary training facility right up above us. I¡¯m guessing that was his target. They have jurisdiction in this area as well.¡± Gray, emotionless eyes flicked back and forth between the three of them. Then the dwarf reached a bloody hand down to a gap in his armor, pulled out an odd-looking vial and flung it down at the ground. Jori was faster. She¡¯d begun to pounce on the man the moment he started moving and extended a wing to adjust the jump in mid-air to go right past her original target. Bernt didn¡¯t see exactly what happened, but there was no gigantic fireball, toxic gas cloud or other indication of an alchemical attack. Jori rolled to her feet, revealing the undamaged vial clutched in one clawed hand and grinned, revealing needle-sharp teeth. She¡¯d caught it. Bernt glared angrily and drew the long knife at his belt. Josie just stood there expectantly, as if she¡¯d planned the whole thing. The dwarf dropped to his knees and lay down on the ground. 2.13 Interrogation Getting the dwarf out of the Paladins¡¯ Hall discreetly was difficult, but they managed. At least, nobody raised any alarms and nobody tried to stop them. Discretion was important in a case like this ¨C the paladins likely would have objected to a demon, its weird mage handler and a warlock apprehending an enemy warlock in their basement. Once they were out, they simply walked the dwarf out of the Temple District while Jori followed more discreetly below street level. The prisoner, who still seemed to be completely under the control of some kind of demon, was surprisingly cooperative once he¡¯d surrendered. When they reached the Solicitors¡¯ building, Josie let them in through the side door and led them down a set of steps to a small series of cells, two of which were occupied. After locking the prisoner inside one of the open ones, she held a small healing potion out to him through the bars and offered a small mocking bow. ¡°Drink up, whisperer! Compliments of the Solicitors.¡± The dwarf took it wordlessly, and she turned to go. ¡°Uh, where are you going?¡± Bernt asked, eyeing the prisoner as he drank the red liquid down. He didn¡¯t like the idea of being left alone in here ¨C not if the prisoner could talk again and especially not if it could mean experiencing whatever had happened to Josie out there earlier. ¡°I¡¯m going to fetch Solicitor Radast.¡± Josie explained without slowing down. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, the cells are enchanted. He can¡¯t do anything. Just stay here for a minute.¡± Her steps stopped and she called back down the stairs. ¡°Uh¡­ don¡¯t talk to them, though ¨C they¡¯re dangerous!¡± Bernt looked around. It seemed like an unnecessary warning. None of the prisoners looked especially talkative ¨C they were huddled near the backs of their cells, in the shadows. With a shrug, Bernt pushed up his sleeve to check on his arm. It looked completely fine. There wasn¡¯t even any scarring. But he hadn¡¯t been able to cast. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it?¡± Jori asked, peering at the hand. He could feel her worry ¨C she¡¯d probably felt him get burned. He shrugged at her. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I think that other warlock did something to me when he burned my arm.¡± Hellfire alone wasn¡¯t supposed to have this sort of effect, as far as Bernt knew. Granted, it usually did a lot more damage ¨C there shouldn¡¯t have been an arm left to heal. He shivered at the thought of how close it had really been. But his cold fire had weakened the attack somehow, or changed it. He couldn¡¯t really be sure exactly what happened. Hesitantly, he tried casting his torch spell ¨C the easiest cantrip he knew. Visualizing the spellform felt normal. A small, bright flame flickered to life over his open hand. It worked, but even as the light kindled, a bone-deep ache radiated up his arm. It hurt to channel more than a trickle of mana out through the arm. This was bad. He needed to talk to Syrah or maybe Ed or Iriala. Somebody who might know what happened and how to fix it. This was the second time his casting had become impaired from his dominant hand in just over a month ¨C not counting the alchemical poisoning he''d suffered in the limb. But that couldn''t be related. Could it? Bernt¡¯s train of thought was interrupted when the door opened and Radast stepped inside, followed closely by Josie. Quickly, he dropped the sleeve and stepped back to let them by. The head solicitor spared a quick glance for Bernt¡¯s spell, which still burned brightly over one of his shoulders, but he didn¡¯t comment. Instead, he stepped directly up to the bars and eyed his new prisoner dispassionately. ¡°Good afternoon,¡± he began in a calm, businesslike manner ¨C neither hurried nor patient. ¡°I¡¯d like to ask you a few questions about your presence and purpose here in Besermark ¨C and Halfbridge in particular.¡± The gray eyed dwarf stared back at him expressionlessly for a few seconds before answering. ¡°I am contractually bound not to reveal any information about the Duergar Empire or my pacted partner.¡± His voice was dry and emotionless, just like his face. ¡°Hmph. Well, at least they have some kind of contract.¡± Radast sniffed, turning away. ¡°Still, I would have thought that a civilization as old and respectable as the Duergar Empire would have more sense than to allow its warlocks to surrender themselves to possession.¡± The dwarf didn¡¯t answer or give any indication that he¡¯d even heard. ¡°Ah well, it was worth a try.¡± Radast turned to Bernt, acknowledging his presence for the first time. ¡°Underkeeper Bernard. Do you mind if I borrow your light?¡± Bernt nodded, and the warlock pulled a dense bundle of herbs from his pocket. He held it up to Bernt¡¯s torch spell until it caught fire, then extinguished the flame again with a practiced flick of his wrist. An unpleasantly acrid herbal smell filled the room. Wafting the smoke around in an odd circular motion, Radast chanted in an unfamiliar language. As he did, the dwarf¡¯s previously dead face began to twitch oddly before settling into a deep frown. Brown bled into the creature¡¯s eyes until they were left dark without a hint of their previous gray. The warlock hadn¡¯t done any magic, not directly. Bernt would have been able to sense it if he¡¯d actually channeled and shaped mana himself. But whatever he¡¯d done had worked. Was this ritual magic? ¡°Now, then. Let¡¯s try this again,¡± the warlock said pleasantly, though his expression was nothing less than predatory. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The dwarf looked around nervously and frowned up at Radast. ¡°My name is Ksandr¡­ who are you?¡± ¡°Ah, isn¡¯t this better?¡± Radast smiled. ¡°My name is Solicitor Radast. You may call me Solicitor, or Solicitor Radast.¡± ¡°You have done a foolish thing, taking me as a prisoner.¡± Ksandr said, eyes narrowing. His Beseri was quite good, though he had a fairly strong guttural accent. ¡°They will know, and you will die. Nuros commands many silent watchers ¨C shades, eldritch eyes, and eaters of memory.¡± The strange dwarf''s voice grew increasingly strained as he talked and foam started collecting at the corners of his mouth. ¡°If none see, my own demon will deliver his knowledge of you when it returns. None may know our purpose, and so you will die.¡± Radast rolled his eyes. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure that¡¯s very interesting. Who is Nuros? Is it a general? A duergar prince?¡± ¡°A general,¡± the dwarf answered, voice turning raspy, ¡°A prince of sorts, perhaps ¨C an ascending star of the fifth circle. He is a servant of Varamemnon, the Devouring Maw.¡± ¡°Hail the Devourer.¡± An unsteady voice rattled out from another of the cells. ¡°Deeply he drinks from the well.¡± The last prisoner said in a smooth baritone and with a ritualistic cadence. He was a tall, powerfully built man. He¡¯d come right up against the bars to hear the duergar warlock¡¯s words, but he was staring at Jori with feverish intensity. A shiver ran down Bernt¡¯s neck, both at the creepy display, and because he had an idea of who this might be. Jori had seen him too. Her face contorted with rage and she summoned a fistful of sulfurous red hellfire, but Radast made a quick gesture with one hand and his shadow flickered forward to fall across Jori¡¯s body for a moment. The flames simply vanished, as if extinguished under a heavy blanket. Jori hissed and shook out her hand. The shadow had stung her, somehow. ¡°Well, well. This is interesting. Finally we¡¯re getting somewhere with all this,¡± the solicitor hummed, seeming completely unruffled. ¡°Underkeeper Bernard, Dzhorianath ¨C I believe it would now be appropriate for you to go and be debriefed by your superiors. Archmage Thurdred will wish to learn of our findings and have an opportunity to speak with our guest himself. I will see to it that Count Narald and other relevant stakeholders are informed. Please relay our compliments to the Archmage and reiterate to him that, as per our agreement, he will enjoy our full cooperation in all matters pertaining to the current situation.¡± Bernt had questions, but this seemed like a bad time and place to argue. He needed to talk to someone about his arm, and he wanted to get Jori out of here and away from the tall man. She was afraid of him, and her fear was making him uneasy in turn. So, instead of saying anything, Bernt just nodded and headed for the door, picking up a shivering Jori and carrying her out in his arms. As he passed her, he noticed Josie giving them a strange, bemused look. ¨C------- Bernt and Jori went to find Ed first, at the Underkeepers¡¯ old headquarters. Bernt explained what happened as quickly as he could, including the apparent spiritual damage to his arm, with Jori adding both helpful and not-so-helpful details to better illustrate her role in the day¡¯s events. Ed¡¯s scowl deepend as they talked, though he looked more thoughtful than upset. ¡°Hmm. Well... there¡¯s not much point in speculating about your arm right now. Just rest it for a few days and see how well you recover naturally.¡± He rose from his chair and began collecting his things. ¡°I need to go visit with the Solicitors. You should go home. You¡¯re not even supposed to be working today, fool boy.¡± He was nearly out the door when he stopped and turned back to him. He met Bernt''s eyes for a second, and gave him a considering nod, followed by a firmer one. "You did good today, both of you. This is going to win you a bit of goodwill, facing down an enemy warlock out in the open like that. The rest of us, too. The paladins aren''t going to like being saved, especially by the two of you and the solicitor girl, but they aren''t ingrates, either. Mostly, anyway." He nodded one more time and turned away. "Alright. Now go on and get out of here. I need to lock up." ------- By the time they returned to the Undercity Gate, night had fallen. The pleasant yellow-green light emanating from the tunnel ceiling gave the place a warm, inviting air, not at all like the sewer-based dungeon entrance that it had been just a few weeks before. Bernt¡¯s spirits lifted at the sight and he waved to Palina, who was once again manning the guard station and sipping on a steaming cup of tea that she raised to him in reply. Everything looked calm and peaceful ¨C the only indication that anyone had been flinging hellfire around here just a few hours ago was a few square feet of smooth, glassy-looking cobblestone that had melted slightly in the unnatural fire¡¯s incredible heat. ¡°I thought you already worked the day shift,¡± he asked as they got close enough to talk. Palina shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m filling in for one of the gobbos ¨C signed myself up for a bit of overtime. The poor little guy took a spear right in the stomach. That healer you showed up with took care of it, but she said that he should lay down for a day or two to be sure. Gut wounds are always a mess. Someone will be around to relieve me soon.¡± She leaned forward, raising a conspiratorial eyebrow. ¡°I heard a rumor that you and the solicitor girl dragged the other one of those warlocks out from under the Paladins¡¯ Hall.¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°Uh. Yea¡­¡± He didn¡¯t realize that word would get around so fast, though it made sense. They¡¯d pulled Ksandr the warlock up out of the window right onto a public street. ¡°I snatched his alchemical bomb right out of the air!¡± Jori said proudly, making a snatching motion to illustrate. ¡°He was going to burn down the whole building, probably, but I stopped him.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Palina asked, eyebrows rising as Jori nodded emphatically. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s a good target. They¡¯re relying pretty heavily on their warlocks. What did you do with the bomb?¡± ¡°The solicitors took it,¡± Bernt replied, ¡°and good riddance.¡± It had been a fragile little thing ¨C a thin vial with three separate chambers, each of which were filled with some kind of liquid. It wasn¡¯t hard to guess what would happen if it broke. He hadn¡¯t wanted to touch the damned thing, and Josie had been only too glad to carry it. The Solicitors would probably want to study it. In his professional opinion, it was an inelegant and dangerous way to harness fire. A fireball wouldn¡¯t just go off accidentally and roast him where he stood if he tripped. Palina looked nonplussed at his response, but didn¡¯t question it further. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad we had Jori there to fight the big bad warlocks for us. Word¡¯s getting around about the fight here on the plaza, too. I heard a couple of dwarves talking about it on their way down below about an hour ago.¡± She winked down at Jori. ¡°You¡¯re getting famous!¡± Bernt snorted and waved again as he started making his way down the tunnel. Jori was always going to draw attention, but it remained to be seen whether that would ultimately work out well for either of them. 2.14 New Neighbors Bernt woke to a quiet whimpering noise. It was mostly dark, with just a bit of light coming in through one of the open windows. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get his bearings. He was in his new home in the Undercity. The low light was filtering in through the windows from the tunnel¡¯s luminescent flora. The sound came again, and Bernt quickly cast a torch spell to give him some light. It didn''t feel quite right, but it worked. Jori was curled up on her bed ¨C Bernt had managed to shape a rough stone bench with a slight depression in the middle for her, and she¡¯d loaded her bedding material into it last night. She wasn¡¯t sleeping easily. Her wings twitched and she hissed, batting at the air with one clawed hand. Then she flinched and whimpered again. ¡°Jori?¡± Bernt got up and reached over to nudge her shoulder. Her eyes popped wide open and she flinched back, looking wildly all around. ¡°Agh! Wha¨C?¡± Her eyes locked on Bernt and she sagged with relief. ¡°What were you dreaming about?¡± he asked curiously. Jori didn¡¯t usually have nightmares. For that matter, she didn¡¯t sleep very much. Most days, she was out hunting before he even woke up. ¡°Was it the fight yesterday?¡± The little imp had suffered horrific burns and other injuries. Sure, they¡¯d healed almost instantly, but he couldn¡¯t imagine that kind of regeneration came without any kind of cost. Jori shook her head. ¡°No, it was the other place. We were being hunted. It was the fiends..." She was breathing a little too fast, and her eyes darted around the room. "They always went after the spawnlings, because we were the smallest. They would stalk our entire pack and pick us off, one by one.¡± Jori stopped, staring at nothing for a second. ¡°When I was spawned there were hundreds of us. Now¡­ I don¡¯t know. When I was pulled over here it was maybe fifty.¡± She looked up at him, seeming¡­ smaller, somehow, than normal. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m the only one left?¡± Bernt blinked. Jori had never really talked about the hells at all, much less mentioned anything like friends or family. He had no idea that imps lived in herds or packs. He wasn¡¯t even sure that the warlocks knew. Demons didn¡¯t have a sense of community or collective ¨C it was one of the first and only things he¡¯d ever been taught about them back at the Academy. He wanted to ask more about it, but this didn''t seem like the time for it. Maybe he could ask Josie. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. ¡°But you¡¯re safe now, and you¡¯re not small or weak anymore. I don¡¯t think anyone can just casually hunt you like they did when you were a spawnling.¡± Jori looked up at Bernt, her face firming. ¡°I¡¯m going to find them, someday. I will.¡± Bernt nodded to her encouragingly. ¡°Okay, good. Are you alright?¡± He held out a bit of spicy rat jerky to her. She grabbed it and nodded. ¡°Yes. I''m alright. Let¡¯s go to work.¡± Only as Bernt got dressed did he realize what it meant that his spell had worked almost normally. His hand felt a little odd ¨C sort of a low, electric tingle in his palm, but nothing like the day before. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief ¨C it wasn¡¯t perfect, but he was recovering from the injury he¡¯d suffered the day before. He¡¯d have to try a harder spell later. ¨C-------- When they stepped out into the street, Bernt found the place transformed. He¡¯d noticed that more of the homes were occupied when they came home last night ¨C there had been lights on in many of the gaping windows, and more traffic down in the market area. Now, in the morning, the street outside was alive with people going about their business. Hammering echoed from across the street, where a dwarven carpenter was using a plumb line to adjust the same door frame that he¡¯d watched his new goblin neighbors try to install by themselves two days before. As he watched, the green-skinned woman leaned out of the unshuttered window to hand the dwarf a cup of something hot to drink. In fact, the dwarf was looking quite popular in the new neighborhood. Another goblin was talking to him as he worked, and a few others stood nearby along with an uncomfortable-looking gnome. Bernt was a little surprised to see a gnome here, but he supposed he shouldn¡¯t have been. Looking around at the trickle of traffic moving briskly along the street in front of his home, he realized that the neighborhood really wasn¡¯t quite as homogeneously goblin-centric as he¡¯d thought. There were a handful of other gnomes walking around, some heavily tattooed humans who Bernt assumed might be adherents of some kind of shamanistic practice, and a weather-beaten dwarf who was either working here or who wanted to defy expectations by moving into the goblin quarter. He even saw a gnoll pulling along a cart full of boxes, probably about to move in somewhere down the way. And all of them still needed doors. Who would have thought that a new underground district full of stone dwellings would be so good for the city¡¯s carpenters? Bernt hoped that his own carpenter would get around to fitting his doors and windows soon. He¡¯d had to pay in advance, and the prices were quite a bit higher than he¡¯d been expecting. He was almost completely out of coin for the first time in years. His next pay day was over a week away, but the castellan still owed him a few silver marks for his twice-weekly teaching gig at the orphanage. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. It would be enough. Probably. There was no sense in worrying about it now. ¡°Hey there, neighbors!¡± a voice called from behind him. Bernt turned to find a goblin in a gray guard uniform approaching him. He was thin and tall for a goblin, nearly reaching to Bernt¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Uh, hi,¡± Bernt said in reply. He''d seen him before, but couldn''t quite remember his name. ¡°Are you heading in to work?¡± ¡°Yup!¡± the goblin said cheerfully and started walking alongside them. ¡°I¡¯m relieving my dad over in the Underworks. He was on night patrol." "My name¡¯s Nirlig.¡± He added a second later with a little wink, correctly interpreting Bernt''s squinty greeting. He looked down at Jori and pressed his hands together in some kind of greeting or salute. ¡°You¡¯re the demon that got into that crazy firefight with the duergar warlock yesterday, right? Dhzori?¡± He pronounced it slightly differently, overemphasizing the first consonant. ¡°Uh¡­ Yes? What are the ¡®Underworks¡¯?¡± Jori asked, echoing Bernt¡¯s own thoughts. The goblin beamed at her as if he''d been hoping she would ask exactly that. ¡°It¡¯s what the dwarves are calling their new little crafting quarter! Many of the dwarven crafters are moving in, even coming directly from the crafter¡¯s district. They just like it better underground, I guess. Dwarves, you know? I hope we can get a troll or two to move here now. They¡¯re not very sociable, but their shamans can do some incredible things with stone.¡± Bernt hummed skeptically. ¡°I don¡¯t think any trolls are going to move into Halfbridge¡­ they¡¯re not protected by the treaty. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the Adventurer¡¯s Guild issued a quest to kill any that tried.¡± The goblin shrugged, unconcerned. ¡°Laws can change. You humans gave up on fighting us, and trolls have a lot to offer. At least as long as you¡¯re respectful.¡± ¡°I guess.¡± Bernt allowed. ¡°But what do you mean about troll shamans? Do you mean they can get spirits to help them work stone? And if that¡¯s right, why wouldn¡¯t a goblin be able to do that?¡± Nirlig shrugged. ¡°Goblins are forest people, so we speak to forest spirits. The trolls are one with the mountains, so their shamans speak to the mountain spirits. I can¡¯t hear whatever spirits wander around in the tunnels here, or up in the city. It should work here, though, with so many of us. We¡¯ll need to develop the environment for a little while before we can get any of ours to come down. What? Bernt did a double take. ¡°You¡¯re a shaman?¡± He looked like any other goblin. Then again, so did Grixit. Now that he considered it, he¡¯d always just assumed that shamans would wear some kind of distinctive clothing, like priests or mages. But if they were also crafters and enchanters and the like, he supposed that might not be how it worked at all. ¡°Me? No.¡± Nirlig laughed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t join the guard if I had that kind of influence. Besides, figuring out proper rituals and stuff to get their help is way too hard. I just chat with them sometimes. Kind of weird that humans don¡¯t really ever seem to. They don¡¯t bite or anything. Usually. As long as you¡¯re polite.¡± Bernt looked over at Jori. She was barely paying attention, skipping and spreading her wings to slow her descent as they walked when there was enough space to do so. ¡°Uh¡­ I didn¡¯t know we could. I don¡¯t think most people do.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a secret.¡± Nirlig laughed. ¡°They just don¡¯t care. You don¡¯t have any shamans, and we¡¯re just savages who live in holes in the ground out in the forest, right?¡± The goblin said the words lightly, like a joke, but Bernt heard the bitter undertone. It was too close to the truth to be funny. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Bernt said, matching the goblin¡¯s tone. ¡°I found out recently that you guys use spirits to enchant armor and such. I¡¯d love to know more about that. I mean, who wouldn¡¯t?¡± Nirlig grinned at him. ¡°I guess you met Grixit? That guy¡¯s a genius. I mean, almost any shaman can get items infused, sure, but he can get you practically anything.¡± ¡°Uh. I thought you just get a spirit to do it¡­¡± ¡°Sure. Just. It sounds simple enough, I guess, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s easy. The really tricky thing with infusing stuff is communicating what you want to an incorporeal being whose entire existence is a reflection of some kind of natural phenomenon. And which is immortal ¨C at least in the conventional sense. It can take a shaman years to finally get a spirit to grasp what they actually want, and they have to make sure to be patient and polite about it, too. And it¡¯s not like they all agree on what''s polite and what isn¡¯t. I guess you could think of it like explaining color to a blind god and then asking them to make you something mauve.¡± Bernt¡¯s estimation of Grixit went up a notch. ¡°So, he¡¯s like a spirit-whisperer?¡± Nirlig rolled his eyes. ¡°What do you think a regular shaman is? No, Grixit¡¯s a genius because he can understand them better than anyone else. If you can grasp how they think, you can work out how to communicate with them for all kinds of purposes, and how to trade for things.¡± The goblin gave him a slightly patronizing glance. ¡°Well, you can¡¯t communicate with them, but the rest of us would be able to ¨C goblins, I mean.¡± Bernt considered that for a moment. Sure, he had no talents in that direction, but that wasn¡¯t true of everyone. But he didn¡¯t mention what he¡¯d learned about bards ¨C that some humans clearly could communicate with spirits, and that they did so successfully enough to create their own enchanted ¨C or ¡°infused¡± tools. He didn¡¯t really know how all that worked and besides, it wasn¡¯t his secret to tell. Blabbing to anyone about guild secrets was never a good idea. He considered asking about it further, but they emerged into the Undercity Market which was already coming to life with stalls from goblins, gnomes, dwarves and humans looking to capitalize on the traffic that streamed from the new neighborhoods through the market and up into the city, where most of them still worked ¨C for now. ¡°You know. It¡¯s fine.¡± Bernt said, casting a torch spell over one raised hand. ¡°We don¡¯t have shamans, but goblins don¡¯t really have mages. We¡¯re all here now ¨C think of what we can do together!¡± Nirlig¡¯s seemingly inexhaustible smile widened. 2.15 Acolyte Nirlig, as it turned out, was a true people person. Bernt thought he¡¯d done reasonably well, getting to know the names of a few of the newbies and helping Lin, the matronly goblin witch, to heat her tea the previous morning. But Bernt was apparently an amateur when it came to socializing. The gregarious goblin knew practically everyone. As they entered the Underkeepers'' headquarters he saw and greeted the door guard, a dwarf that Bernt couldn¡¯t remember seeing before, by name. He waved to and greeted every goblin, dwarf and gnome they passed in the halls, saying hello and inquiring about pets or minor personal details in passing. How had he possibly gotten to know so many people in... what, a few days? Then again, watching him go, it was easy to see how. It was impressive to watch as he finished one passing chat to begin another, all without missing a beat, slowing down, or failing to hear what anyone else was saying. They were about to turn the corner into the break room ¨C where Bernt hoped to snag another cup of Lin¡¯s tea before starting the day, when a door clicked open and a familiar voice rang down the hallway. ¡°Now listen here, you old bastard. I know better than anyone that I can¡¯t stop my son from making naive, foolish decisions, but by Oreleth, you¡¯ll keep him well out of harm¡¯s way or I don¡¯t care what it costs ¨C I¡¯m going to come for you. Do you understand me?¡± A portly man in a stylish and highly decorated city guard¡¯s uniform came around the corner, following half a step behind Ed, who looked more annoyed than threatened by his words. Bernt recognized him as Guard Commander Righmond as they walked past the little group, neither taking notice of him or his companions. ¡°The entire Undercity is ¡®in harm¡¯s way¡¯, relatively speaking ¨C that was kind of the point!¡± Ed sighed and shook his head at the other man. ¡°But I¡¯m not going to send your kid out to fight duergar just because you¡¯re an asshole. He¡¯ll be fine. He¡¯ll get some training and a little discipline, maybe pick up a few skills and do some patrolling. He can make friends here who will watch his back. Listen, I¡¯ve trained a lot of green recruits in my day....¡± The two vanished around another corner, and their voices grew too indistinct to make out. What was all that about? Shaking his head, Bernt stepped into the break room and headed for the little kitchen in the corner. He¡¯d already taken a few steps when he noticed that it was oddly quiet. Not silent, just... muted. There were a lot of people in the room, sitting around tables and murmuring softly to one another, totally unlike the dull roar that had filled the place the previous day. It only took Bernt one quick look around to find the source of the odd mood in the room. A young man wearing an expensive looking white tunic sat awkwardly at a table in one corner. He had a scabbarded sword leaned against the wall next to him, and he was the only one in the room out of uniform. Then again, nobody in their right mind wore brilliant white tunics ¨C they were impossible to keep clean. There was only one place in the city where people walked around dressed like that ¨C the Temple District. The others threw glances his way that ranged from curious to uncomfortable. They kept their distance and no one approached him. No one except Nirlig, of course. As the friendly goblin finished another quick conversation, all the while sampling someone¡¯s drink at their insistence, he moved directly over to the newcomer and settled down at his table. As he did, Jori jumped up onto the table next to him. The human flinched back and looked nervously between them, but then took Nirlig¡¯s proffered hand. Bernt could already guess who this had to be. Wondering briefly if he was going to regret this, he gathered up four cups, heated a bit of fresh water with a cantrip, and went looking for Lin¡¯s bag of tea. ¨C-------- ¡°¡ªheard that the Underkeepers were fighting them,¡± the young man was saying as Bernt walked up with the tea. ¡°Paladins don¡¯t get chosen for their inaction. They¡¯re supposed to put themselves between the faithful and the forces of evil. Instead, we got saved from a warlock infiltrator yesterday by a handful of Underkeepers. It¡¯s the last straw! I can¡¯t just sit around up there anymore, I need to get out there!¡± ¡°That was me!¡± Jori said happily. ¡°Bernt and I, and Josie the Solicitor went under the Paladin¡¯s Hall and caught him! He had a nasty alchemical fire thing, too.¡± Jori held out her hands to illustrate its size and shape. ¡°He tried to throw it, but I caught it right out of the air!¡± The acolyte, seemed¡­ well, he was looking a little green around the gills and staring at the little imp. All things considered, though, he still seemed surprisingly amenable to sharing a table with a demon and a goblin. A second passed, then he made a strange noise and threw up his hands in obvious frustration. ¡°That¡¯s even worse! I can¡¯t believe none of the temples sent any paladins to support the Underkeepers when it became clear that this would be the second line of defense behind the army.¡± ¡°So, I guess they didn¡¯t send you, either?¡± Bernt set down the cups and passed one to him. ¡°I¡¯m Bernt.¡± ¡°Uh. hi. I¡¯m Torvald,¡± he answered, looking a little relieved to see another human. He gestured down at his white attire. ¡°And no, of course not. I¡¯m not a paladin yet! I haven¡¯t been chosen. Most of us just work in the Temple District until we get our first calling. But I¡¯ve always known where I¡¯m supposed to be. Most of the gods who choose paladins reward initiative. So, why wait to do the right thing? I signed up as a recruit.¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯re glad to have you!¡± Nirlig said encouragingly. ¡°We¡¯ve got the mages, a witch, two druids, a thief, a warlock and a bunch of skilled fighters of different kinds. And Jori here ¨C I don¡¯t know exactly how she fits, but she works here too! No clerics and no paladins by my count until you showed up.¡± The goblin smiled. "But there''s plenty of room in the organization!" The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The young man tore his wide eyes from Jori to blink at him. ¡°Uh. A witch?¡± ¡°They¡¯re sort of like a self-taught hedge mage that incorporates alchemy and ritual magic to whatever effect they can manage,¡± Bernt explained, ¡°Usually to act as a rudimentary healer of some kind for someplace that doesn¡¯t have healing potions¡­ or clerics¡­¡± he trailed off, interrupted by Nirlig¡¯s snorting laugh. ¡°Haha. Maybe human witches, sure. Goblin witchcraft is an ancient tradition,¡± the goblin explained, eyes gleaming with humor. ¡°It¡¯s hardly the same as a human villager playing with herbs. That tea there will keep you going all day and make sure you sleep like a baby tonight.¡± Surprised, Bernt opened his mouth to ask what, exactly, goblin witches were capable of, but was interrupted by the sound of a bell. It echoed through the halls, striking four times, and Nirlig got up, downing his cup in a single gulp. ¡°Alright, I have to go. That¡¯s the signal for change of shift. It was wonderful to meet you all. I¡¯ll see you around!¡± Jori scampered after him, chattering at him about how she fit in just fine, thank you, and that she was an ''integral part of the Underkeepers¡¯ peacekeeping and counterterrorism operations'' ¨C where had she picked up a phrase like that? Bernt put it out of his mind and looked curiously at his tea, trying to sense any mana in it. He couldn¡¯t. With a shrug, he rose as well and nodded to the incipient paladin, who was still watching the departing goblin and imp. ¡°Alright, I need to go pick up my assignment. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see you around soon.¡± Bernt hadn¡¯t actually done any guard duty so far, and hadn¡¯t even realized that they had a signal bell ¨C though he supposed it made sense. Had the others been briefed on all this? He''d only been off work for a single day! ¨C--------- Bernt wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d been expecting ¨C maybe normal maintenance or pest management duties, or trying to root out other potential infiltrators. Could there really have only been just one patrol of dwarves that got through? Instead, he found himself sitting in a quiet room alongside Kustov, Yarrod, Dayle and Fiora detailing the correct procedures for identifying, handling and disposing of a variety of controlled alchemical substances under Ed¡¯s stern gaze. Jori somehow talked Palina into assigning her to ¡°help¡± Nirlig guard a new access stairwell that someone, probably Kustov, had built to connect the new Underworks directly to the Crafters¡¯ District. The two chatted like old friends about how convenient the stairs would be for daily commuters, who would otherwise have to walk nearly half an hour down through the Undercity Gate, down the tunnel, through the Undercity Market and then through the left hand tunnel to circle back underneath the Crafter¡¯s District. Bernt did his best to tune them out and got to work. An hour into the process, he shook out his cramping hand and silently thanked Aedina, the goddess of knowledge, that he¡¯d spent so much time studying the procedures. In practice, Underkeepers almost never encountered any of these substances. By the time they reached a contaminated site, they were usually diluted into the water or fully spent on whatever effect they had ¨C spawning slimes, killing or mutating the local fauna, or just setting the entire sewer aglow. After that, they usually weren¡¯t dangerous to touch ¨C if anything remained at all. Bernt had little trouble answering the questions, but he couldn¡¯t shake a sense of unease as he worked. Why were they sitting here taking a test when they¡¯d been fighting duergar infiltrators just yesterday? Ed hadn¡¯t said anything about it. Shouldn¡¯t they be preparing for¡­ something? Anything? When they finished, they followed Ed back to his office with the tests, where he barely glanced over them before slapping them down into a drawer and signing a waste management certification for each of them, which he immediately dumped on top of the other papers in the same drawer. Fiora cleared her throat. ¡°Damn it, Ed. There¡¯s a brand new filing cabinet right behind you.¡± Ed narrowed his eyes at her for a moment. Then sighed, put down his pipe and heaved himself up out of his chair, extracting the entire mess back out of his drawer to go hunting for the correct file folder. ¡°Should hire a secretary around here.¡± The old man grumbled under his breath. ¡°Iri has a secretary, sort of. Got to do every damned thing myself around here.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± He finished, slamming the cabinet shut with a satisfied air. ¡°That¡¯s taken care of. That means we can finally deal with this backlog of reports from the alchemists. Those idiots have been driving me crazy ¨C it¡¯s their own damned fault it took so long to get around to them.¡± Bernt stared at Ed, his vague sense of unease finally spilling over. ¡°Ed. Why are we getting sent up for maintenance work?¡± he asked. ¡°We got attacked yesterday, and the new guards have barely even started training. Shouldn¡¯t we be doing something?¡± Ed shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re doing plenty. The Mages¡¯ Guild has a handful of abjurers working on warding the stone to keep out sappers ¨C they even hired Janus from the Adventurers. Once they finish, it¡¯ll be very difficult to attack Halfbridge¡¯s most critical areas from below. At least without being detected long before they break through. The army¡¯s watching its own lines, which screens us from the bulk of their forces, and we¡¯re here keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity on the street.¡± Bernt looked from Ed over at the others. ¡°War¡¯s mostly just waitin¡¯ around.¡± Dayle said. ¡°It¡¯s not even a war yet, really. This here all is just foreplay. They¡¯re gonna cry big crocodile tears about rogue elements in their ranks or somethin¡¯ for a few days ¨C maybe it¡¯ll settle back down, or maybe they¡¯ll try something. Or maybe the general will lose his patience and go lookin¡¯ for trouble. It¡¯s not up to us. So, you know... might as well get some work done before the fires start.¡± Ed grunted in agreement. ¡°Work doesn¡¯t stop for fighting more than it has to. Especially infrastructure maintenance and repair. But you¡¯re not going to be visiting any alchemists. I doubt that they¡¯d do anything to you now, but I think I¡¯d rather keep you away from them after all that nonsense last month. Besides, I have another project for you. We have a new recruit who showed up at my door last night. Might be useful to have around if we can train him up a bit.¡± ¡°Torvald?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°The white-shirt from the Temple District?¡± Ed nodded, eyebrows rising in mild surprise. ¡°You met him? That¡¯s good. Yes. He seemed awfully fired up to go fight demons or some such nonsense. I don¡¯t want him to get the wrong idea of what we do here, so I want you to grab him and Josie from the training yard and start working the west side of the Lower District. We haven¡¯t been down there in a while, because there weren¡¯t any complaints ¨C but there never are. You¡¯ll want to grab one of the big carts from the old office.¡± Bernt suppressed a groan. When was he going to get some good, clean guard duty? Just sitting around at a guard station or patrolling around in the street sounded incredible compared to scratching months-old muck out of under-maintained sewer grating and rooting out nests of unidentifiable mutants. At least he¡¯d have two people to help him out, though he couldn¡¯t imagine that a warlock and a temple acolyte would work together very well. 2.16 Siege Iriala kept her face carefully neutral as Radast gave the count an over-embellished bow and nodded graciously to the assembled leaders of the various guilds, the temples and the military. He was enjoying this far too much ¨C it wasn¡¯t appropriate considering the circumstances. The warlock¡¯s shadow, she noticed, was playing at being normal today, though looking closely, she could tell that it was a little too dark compared to the others in the room. ¡°I am honored to present important intelligence to your grace today,¡± the warlock began. The count would certainly have already seen the report, but it was traditional to pretend that everyone was hearing things for the first time at functions like this. ¡°One of my associates detained a rogue warlock belonging to the Duergar forces,¡± he continued, ¡°and I¡¯ve spent the past two days interrogating the prisoner to obtain information regarding the disposition and purpose of our adversaries.¡± A well-dressed dwarf cleared his throat self-importantly. ¡°Ahem. Alleged adversaries,¡± he corrected. Right. This would be Pavrosh, the representative of the aspirationally-named Mercantile Guild. In actuality, they were a sort of overgrown Teamsters¡¯ Union that managed trade caravans between cities. By now, even the official reports suggested that the Duergar were seizing territory in the Depths near other Beseri cities. Even the Empire, which actually tried to maintain an underground buffer zone early in its history, had abandoned the attempt when two of its legions and several smaller garrisons had simply disappeared without a trace. While several cities had a presence underground, nobody could seriously claim to control any significant amount of the three-dimensional maze of tunnels and caverns that wormed their way underneath all of Besermark and beyond. As far as Iriala knew, almost nobody expected the dwarves to simply back off from the current standoff. Nobody, that was, except a few delusional traders and merchants. Some probably just feared what a war might do to the country¡¯s trade routes, but she imagined others were still hoping to open trade with the Duergar Empire. Idiots. Sure, and maybe they just wanted to set up convenient trading posts near all of Besermark''s most important urban centers. With their military, and without announcing their intentions. ¡°They detonated an alchemical incendiary device in the Crafters¡¯ District,¡± Radast answered dryly. ¡°And our current prisoner was apprehended with another such device beneath the Paladins¡¯ Hall. The circumstances, considered alongside the prisoner¡¯s testimony, should be more than enough to establish their hostile intentions.¡± As he said this, he gave another gracious nod toward the small group of paladins and priests situated off to the side of the room. One of the paladins, an elderly man who wore armor that could hardly be more than symbolic at this point, gave him a good-natured nod back, accompanied by a small smile. The other paladin and both of the priests that were sitting with him glowered with barely restrained hostility. Iriala thought about figuring out what was going on there, but decided against it. Temple District politics were too confusing, even for her. Each paladin and priest served their own gods, but they also worked together on some level. Various temples coordinated their actions mostly based on how their particular gods got along with each other, and how their respective theologies aligned on various issues. Confusingly, gods who were well-aligned philosophically might not always get along, while ones who had radically opposing ideas might work together closely at times. As a result, you could never really tell what kind of internal politics was going on in the Temple District if you didn¡¯t fully understand both the history and the current relationships and interests of all the gods represented in the city. In short, it was a mess. Fortunately, that particular kind of mess practically never concerned her or the Mages¡¯ Guild. By now, the fool dwarf had stood up and puffed out his chest, getting ready to launch a rebuttal, but Narald waved him to silence before he could get a word out, annoyance plain on his face. ¡°Yes, yes. Get on with it solicitor.¡± Radast stood up straighter and bowed once more, his shadow mirroring the motion perfectly. ¡°The Duergar warlock was possessed by a whisperer ¨C a demon of the first hell. After suppressing the demon¡¯s influence, I put it to the question, only to find that not only he, but also two of the other rogue warlocks currently in detention¡ª.¡± ¡°Yes, yes.¡± Narald cut him off. ¡°I¡¯ve read the report, man. Just give us the intelligence, I¡¯m a busy man. If these people want to know exactly how you got it, they can pester you about it on their own time.¡± ¡°Ah, yes, your Lordship.¡± Radast said, hesitating as he visibly reorganized his thoughts. ¡°The enemy forces are being led by a Duergar noble of some kind named Nuros. What¡¯s not entirely clear is whether Nuros is the name of the dwarf, or that of the demon that¡¯s possessing him.¡± A low murmur passed through the small crowd at that, but Radast went on. ¡°This demon is likely a shade or other shadow demon of the fifth hell. Whatever the case, it¡¯s safe to say that this campaign is being led or influenced heavily by it.¡± The murmur grew louder, but Narald waved a hand and the room grew still again a moment later. ¡°Go on. What does this mean for us?¡± The warlock cleared his throat. ¡°From what I¡¯ve learned, I would expect this Nuros to be at least a class five, more likely a class six demon." He glanced over toward the merchants, and his expression grew a touch derisive. ¡°That¡¯s bad, for those who can¡¯t read between the lines. Waging a war like this is likely part of a deal it made with its host. It most likely wants to grow and evolve into a true greater demon. Demons of the fifth hell consume souls for their fear. It''s most nourishing if the souls both lived and died in terror. Based on the prisoner¡¯s words and my own expectation, Halfbridge, and perhaps the entire realm, considering recent Duergar sightings, should prepare for an extended campaign of terror to be waged against us.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. In the silence that followed, a loud scoff rang through the room. ¡°Then your intelligence is wrong!¡± General Arice said derisively. ¡°The dwarves have been maneuvering around out there for weeks, digging tunnels around toward the far side of the city. It¡¯s obvious that they¡¯re trying to set up sappers¡¯ tunnels. If we didn¡¯t have orders from the Crown to hold off, we would have already launched a preemptive strike by now.¡± Radast shrugged, completely unfazed. ¡°I¡¯m not here to tell you what their troops are doing right in front of your nose, general. I¡¯m sure you have scouts and scryers for that. I¡¯m simply telling you who¡¯s in control of this army and what the high-level objective most likely is.¡± The general rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, but Narald shut him up with a glare. Iriala admired his technique. It took years of practice and more than a little natural charisma to silence an argumentative courtier with nothing but a look. ¡°Arice, calm yourself. I just invited you here to keep you apprised. I have neither the need nor the authority to order you to reposition your troops. The Mages¡¯ Guild was ordered to send word to Teres, Yetin¡¯s Harbor and Loamfurth yesterday. They will conduct their own investigations and report back to us with anything they find that might corroborate or refute this information.¡± He swept his gaze around the room, making eye-contact with the assembled courtiers and guild representatives. ¡°In the meantime, I want all of you to make preparations. Stockpile resources, develop wartime emergency procedures, and simply reassure your people that they¡¯re being taken care of. If someone wants to rattle us, to stir up true terror in our city, then we need to meet them head on with preparedness, resolve, and a tangible commitment to protecting our citizens.¡± ¨C------------- ¡°I don¡¯t understand it.¡± Torvald said, restarting a conversation that made Bernt quietly sigh under his breath. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you want to see your soul saved, protected from the ravages of the hells?¡± ¡°I can use a soulstone for that.¡± Josie snapped. ¡°But I don¡¯t expect that would work out very well. Souls are fuel, at least the parts of them that make you yourself. If gods are hoarding them, it¡¯s not for anything good. The hells are part of the natural cycle of souls, and I¡¯m wary of anything that would casually mess with such a fundamental system.¡± ¡°The gods are not like demons.¡± Torvald rebuked her patiently. ¡°They¡¯re fundamentally different ¨C you can¡¯t just assign them motives based on your experiences with dark and nefarious creatures.¡± "Of course I can," Josie grunted as she heaved a bucket full of filthy debris up a ladder. ¡°I just did.¡± The two of them had been having minor variations of this discussion for days now. Josie had engaged more than a few times, discussing the theological basis of Beseri worship. Both of them seemed quite knowledgeable about each other¡¯s ideology to the point where Bernt couldn¡¯t follow the details himself. It didn¡¯t matter, though. The crux of the argument was that Torvald trusted that the gods were both unknowable and good, and Josie thought that both points were insane. Bernt, who¡¯d checked out of the conversation the second time around ¨C that was something like four days ago ¨C wanted nothing so much as to call it a day and go home. Remarkably, despite that irritating conversation, they¡¯d actually made good progress. Josie was diligent and thorough by nature and Torvald had an unquenchable enthusiasm for doing his duty and doing it ¡°right¡±, that was completely undiminished by his assignment to sewer duty. As a result, they were actually pretty close to finishing their assignment. In fact, Bernt seriously doubted that this part of the system had ever been so clean and clear of pests since it had been built. Torvald even stopped to grease the hinges on the grates, entirely on his own initiative. Bernt had finally drawn a line when he tried to buy the grease with his own money and showed the crazy acolyte how to fill out the reimbursement forms. ¡°Why can¡¯t you leave her alone?¡± Bernt asked him tiredly while Josie went to unload her bucket into the cart. ¡°Because it¡¯s important to me,¡± he answered simply. ¡°Why would someone knowingly turn up their nose at a chance for salvation? It just seems so self-destructive.¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°You didn¡¯t ask me, and I don¡¯t serve any of the gods, either.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true, yes...¡± Torvald admitted. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you have an answer.¡± ¡°And Josie does?¡± Bernt scoffed and shook his head. ¡°She told you already ¨C she just doesn¡¯t trust them. It¡¯s not that profound.¡± ¡°Alright, what about you?¡± he asked, annoyance finally creeping into his voice. Bernt shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t want to mess with any gods, but that doesn¡¯t mean I want to dedicate my existence to becoming the extension of one¡¯s will. I¡¯m my own person.¡± What, after all, was the point of eternity if you couldn¡¯t make your own decisions? Wasn¡¯t that just a different kind of death? ¡°The gods don¡¯t take your will, or suborn it.¡± Torvald insisted. ¡°It¡¯s about aligning your purpose with one who resonates with you on your own.¡± Bernt rolled his eyes. How was that actually any different in practice? He was about to respond when the ground all around him vibrated. ¡°Earthquake! Up!¡± he shouted, almost before he¡¯d even registered what he was feeling. He dove for the ladder and scrambled up, Torvald a few steps behind him as he caught on. Bernt had experienced minor earthquakes before, but they only lasted a few seconds. By the time they found Josie in the increasingly chaotic streets, almost half a minute had gone by and it was still going. It wasn¡¯t a violent shaking so much as a steady, soft vibration accompanied by a loud, low rumble. A trumpet sounded from a nearby wall, followed by another in the distance. The rumbling stopped, but the chaos was only just beginning. City guard patrols coalesced into larger units and streamed toward the walls as civilians hastily tried to clear the streets. The guards moved more smoothly than they had during the kobold¡¯s assault, and more quickly, too. The Underkeepers weren¡¯t the only ones who¡¯d been training. ¡°Come on!¡± Josie called and ran down the street. There was a small wicket gate set into the city wall ahead of them, permanently sealed and bricked over. What was still there, though, was a narrow stairway that led up onto the wall. Without hesitating for a moment, the warlock sped up the steps. Bernt hesitated. Civilians weren¡¯t allowed on the city¡¯s fortifications, but technically they weren¡¯t civilians anymore. At the same time, they were outside of their jurisdiction, and Bernt had no idea what that meant. Still, he wanted to know what was going on, and Josie was a legal expert. Besides, the guards were going to be far too busy to worry about it. He followed, hurrying to catch up, with Torvald hot on his heels. Josie was waiting for them at the top, but she wasn¡¯t looking in their direction. Toward the west, the southwestern highway had been transformed. The broad roadway was supposed to disappear behind a hill about a mile to the west, where it led down into the rocky plains that eventually gave way to the more fertile riverlands that defined southern Besermark¡¯s geography. There it passed by Yetin¡¯s Harbor and led down toward the coast and Teres, the realm¡¯s capital city. Now, the highway ended abruptly in a plain and massive stone rampart. It was cruder work than someone like Janus or Kustov would do, but what it lacked in grace it made up for in sheer mass. The entire thing was probably a mile wide and Bernt could see tiny figures scrambling across it in the distance. The duergar had come to the surface, and they¡¯d cut off what should have been a wide swathe of passable terrain. They were being cut off. The Duergar were putting them under siege. 2.17 Patrol The news spread through the city like wildfire as Bernt led the group back down toward the Undercity, leaving the mostly full cart parked at the side of the street for later. The incinerator was located outside the walls anyway, and it was safe to assume that the gates would be locked down for a while at least. Besides, this was an emergency. As they passed through the Lower District and into the Crafter¡¯s District, lines started to form at shops. More and more people hurried along the street carrying sacks of food, jugs of oil and dried meat. One, Bernt guessed it must be a carpenter, passed by hauling a bizarrely large box of nails and a suspicious expression on his face, as though he was afraid someone was going to try to steal it from him. The city had been through a lot over the past few months with two kobold incursions, including one that had spilled out into the streets and gotten more than a few civilians and guards killed. But those attacks had been sudden, and they¡¯d been over and dealt with in a matter of hours, at least as far as the public was concerned. While the Duergar weren¡¯t a secret, they were out of sight and mostly out of mind, just as the dragon before them had been. A problem for the military or the Adventurers¡¯ Guild to worry about, down in the Depths where no right-minded person would go anyhow. Now, though, the situation had changed. The enemy was moving out onto the surface, cutting the roads. Sure, the river was still open, but it wouldn¡¯t be enough. A city needed a lot of supplies, and Halfbridge depended on more than just river trade to keep its people fed and its industries running. There was another major road that led northward from the city toward Loamfurth, but Bernt doubted it would be in better condition than the southern highway. By the time they reached the Undercity Gate, uniformed soldiers were streaming in and out, heading between the castle and their own positions in the tunnels. Some were clearly messengers, but there were also a few short columns of fifty or so soldiers that streamed by, out into the city. Most likely, they were going to reinforce the guards on the walls. The Undercity, once they reached it, seemed calm by comparison. The market area wasn¡¯t overrun, though it was pretty lively for a place that had been practically uninhabited a week earlier, and people were still moving at a mostly-normal pace. Still, Bernt could see that there were more guards out than there should have been. Concentrating on his familiar bond, he realized through a few vague glimpses and impressions that Jori was still up on the surface in the city. She was cutting through small alleys, trying to get Gnugg and Trip somewhere safe ¨C probably the orphanage. He hoped she would keep a low profile. Sure, she¡¯d publicly averted a disaster in the city just last week, but he could imagine there would be a lot of people out in the streets soon looking for someone to blame for all this. Someone like Jori, or her little kobold for that matter, should be keeping their heads down, at least for the moment. ¡°Kind of quiet, down here.¡± Torvald remarked, looking around. ¡°Do you think they didn¡¯t get the news yet?¡± ¡°Not sure.¡± Bernt said, looking around and thinking through it as he talked. ¡°I think it¡¯s just not as densely populated here yet. Besides, people on the surface were buying up food and supplies, and I¡¯d bet the prices just went up. The Undercity isn¡¯t exactly a rich neighborhood. I mean, maybe the new Underworks, but I¡¯d bet most people who can are shopping up on the surface.¡± ¡°I guess¡­¡± Torvald said, looking around uncomfortably. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure why he was so bothered about it, but by then they were entering the training yard and the conversation died. Underkeepers who¡¯d been off-duty or out on non-guard related duties were gearing up and mustering under Ed¡¯s stern gaze to be sorted into patrol groups, each heading out of the doors as soon as they were assigned. Josie, who already had everything she needed, went right over to be assigned to a patrol while Bernt and Torvald hurried to the armory to get their equipment ¨C Bernt¡¯s staff and Torvald¡¯s sword and helmet. By the time they got back, Josie was already gone, assigned to one of the departing patrols. Of those who remained, most were regular spear-wielding guards, but there were also a handful of more specialized-looking fighters who were armed with swords, staves, knives or axes. ¡°Bernt, how¡¯s the hand?¡± Ed asked by way of greeting. ¡°Can you fight?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Bernt said, holding it up as if to illustrate. It wasn¡¯t completely fine, but he could cast a fireball without any pain. He wouldn''t run into any problems as long as he didn¡¯t overdo it. He would just have to pace himself. ¡°Alright, good. I¡¯ll put you and Torvald there on a patrol together to support Glim there.¡± He pointed toward a serious-looking dwarf who wore an axe on one hip, and a simple wooden baton on the other. He was another former city guard, one of just three, including Palina, that Ed had managed to bring into the Underkeepers. The dwarf nodded to them, eyeing Bernt critically as Ed continued. ¡°Do what he tells you and stay out of trouble. Don¡¯t throw any fire around unless you run into an enemy incursion. Do not go around burning our own people, no matter what they''re doing. We¡¯re going out there to reinforce a sense of order and to make sure we¡¯re around in case the duergar are planning to bust through our walls today. Surprises have a way of showing up all at once, and I don¡¯t want to get caught unaware.¡± ¨C---------- Bernt''s patrol marched down a quiet, oddly empty street in the dwarven quarter of the Undercity. There had been a few tussles during the first few hours, and more than one person had come out complaining of looters breaking into homes and businesses. It wasn''t nearly as quiet in the Undercity as it had first seemed. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Twice in the past few hours, they¡¯d run into small bands of looters trying to break into shops, and had to fight. They held back, trying to avoid any killing, which meant Bernt was mostly useless as a direct combatant. He used his burning glue cantrip on two of them, but it hardly made a difference. While those two were very inconvenienced, the others didn¡¯t even notice. Fire just wasn¡¯t well suited to this kind of work, and Ed had told him not to start throwing any real fire magic around. Glim didn¡¯t see it that way though. The dwarf, who¡¯d waded into the fray using only his baton, pulled him aside afterward and told him in no uncertain terms to find a way to make himself useful. ¡°Did I draw my axe? No, I did not. There is a time and a place for killing, and chastising foolish unarmed looters is not it. But that doesn''t mean I went and sat on my hands. Your fire is the same as my axe. Use it appropriately, or use something else, but don¡¯t just stand around looking pretty in your fancy robe there.¡± Chagrined, Bernt considered the task more carefully. He needed to be more creative. This ¨C both the entire patrol and his presence in it as a mage ¨C was about sending a message. It was just communication, really. Did he actually need to burn anyone for that? No, he decided. He didn''t. When they ran into another group that was trying to kick down the door of what looked like a new smithy, he didn¡¯t fight. Instead, he backed up a few steps and cast a few torch spells over the group, funneling a little extra mana into each one so they''d be extra bright. It wasn¡¯t harmful, but it was flashy. The fight ended quickly after that. Even the taciturn Glim seemed satisfied that he was making himself properly useful. But the one member of their group who really shone, to everyone''s surprise, was Torvald. The young man ¨C he wasn¡¯t actually much younger than Bernt ¨C was a ferocious fighter. He responded quickly when a knot of men approached them with improvised weapons ¨C humans, who''d come down from the surface for some reason. One opened his mouth to talk, glaring balefully and brandishing a heavy stick, but the acolyte was faster. A quick dash, a punch, an elbow and a grappling throw left two men on the ground and the remainder scattered, backing away in surprise. Later, with the first group of looters, he slipped through the unruly group like a snake, yanking one off his feet toward the guards as he propelled himself into the looters¡¯ midst. It seemed like an insanely dangerous maneuver to Bernt, but their opponents were untrained and didn''t take advantage of the young man''s exposed position, becoming easy targets for the other guards. Hours later, things finally began to calm down. Nobody had died as far as Bernt knew. At least not as far as they¡¯d heard. This quarter was far better developed than the goblin quarter ¨C most of the occupied homes and shops already had brand new doors and windows and proper metal locks. Those who thought they could take advantage of any spreading chaos to enrich themselves were disappointed, for the most part. There simply wasn¡¯t that much chaos to speak of, not enough to give looters enough cover to break down doors and get away clean. They were approaching the end of their shift when something strange happened. A shout echoed faintly down the tunnel, followed by another and another. At Glim¡¯s signal, the patrol picked up speed and moved to investigate. As they approached the building, though, the dwarf whipped his head around from left to right across the street. ¡°Weapons out!¡± he barked, and pulled his axe from his belt. Those who weren¡¯t carrying spears complied, and Bernt pulled out his wand alongside the staff. More quietly, the dwarf continued. ¡°There¡¯s a lookout across the street ¨C they know we¡¯re here.¡± Bernt looked around. The patrol was standing in front of a reagent shop ¨C the kind of place alchemists and enchanters and probably warlocks went to get magical herbs, monster parts, and whatever else they needed for their work. The door stood open, but it didn¡¯t look like anyone had broken the lock. Through the gap, Bernt could see that someone had made a mess inside. It seemed quiet. There were a few gawkers peeking out of windows and pedestrians hurrying by, anxiously eyeing them and their drawn weapons. He didn¡¯t see anyone who he would have pegged as a lookout. ¡°Who¡¯s they?¡± Another guard, a goblin by the name of Hixle asked. ¡°Thieves¡¯ Guild.¡± Glim grunted, still scanning the street warily. ¡°There was a human street urchin sitting up against the wall there a second ago. Halfbridge doesn¡¯t get a lot of urchins ¨C we¡¯ve got an orphanage. And there¡¯s no reason they¡¯d be hanging around this street. No food here.¡± That sounded a little thin to Bernt. Not every homeless child went to the orphanage. Those who were old enough to get by on their own, and who didn¡¯t want to be there sometimes left or never went there in the first place. Bernt didn¡¯t really understand why they chafed at life in the orphanage so much, but it wasn¡¯t that rare. Of course, that was the moment when one of the anxious passersby looked up, frightened gaze locking on Bernt¡¯s. On seeing him, his expression relaxed for a moment and he winked before hurrying past. Nobody else noticed. Bernt blinked, unsure what he should do. That had been Oren. Bernt was dumbfounded for a second. Should he say something? Oren was a thief, and probably involved here. Why hide himself in the crowd otherwise, or wink at him? But Oren was a friend ¨C part of his adventuring party. It wasn¡¯t really a secret that thieves that worked as adventurers were probably also criminals. On the other hand, the law usually didn¡¯t pursue adventurers too closely. Shamelessly blatant illegal activity and any violent crime against people of any importance would be dealt with, of course, but Bernt was fairly sure that the guards themselves didn¡¯t have much to do with that. Adventurers were extraordinarily dangerous people, even at relatively low ranks. Someone like Oren, who had risen to rank 4, couldn¡¯t just be casually arrested ¨C it would take a lot of guards, or ones who were former adventurers themselves. Guards were well suited to managing regular citizens, and even the occasional monster or angry mob, but they weren¡¯t meant to fight people like Oren without taking losses. The city could fight one of the guilds, maybe, but not while also managing their other responsibilities. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going inside with Torvald there.¡± Glim said obliviously. ¡°The rest of you stay outside. Bernt, I want you watching the pedestrians and the gawkers. If they clump up or start to make any threatening moves, assume that they¡¯re dangerous and call out for me.¡± Deciding not to start something they might not be able to finish, and still unsure whether he even wanted to start it at all, Bernt kept his mouth shut and followed directions. He could always report to Ed about it later. 2.18 Hostilities By the time they returned, Bernt had made up his mind. He was going to tell Ed what he¡¯d seen. So, while the others left to catch a good night¡¯s sleep while they could, he stayed for a little while to seek out his boss. The archmage was probably the only one who could do anything with the information anyway. ----- ¡°Hmm.¡± Ed grunted, leaning back in his chair. ¡°You¡¯re probably lucky you didn¡¯t catch anyone in the shop. You said you know this guy? What¡¯s his name?¡± ¡°Oren.¡± Bernt supplied. ¡°I didn¡¯t see him go in or out of the building, but he was there.¡± ¡°Eh. It¡¯s not enough for us to bring any formal charges. We don¡¯t want to mess with the Thieves¡¯ Guild directly if we can help it, anyway. Guild thieves are slippery, and most mages don¡¯t do well in that kind of fight ¨C the kind that you don¡¯t know you¡¯re in until the knife¡¯s already in you, I mean.¡± Ed grimaced with a faraway look in his eye. ¡°I¡¯ll mention it to the magistrate, and he¡¯ll pass it along to Ambrose. The branchmaster has contacts with everyone, and he can get the message through to the thieves. Or maybe he¡¯ll slap Oren on the wrist personally. I doubt anything will come of it, really, but it¡¯s good to let them know we saw them. Don¡¯t want them getting too bold.¡± Bernt swallowed. Was Oren going to be angry that he reported seeing him? Why did he show himself in the first place? It didn¡¯t matter. Bernt was an Underkeeper and this was his job. It didn¡¯t sound like the thief would be meaningfully punished regardless. There was no way Oren could expect to make him into an accomplice just because he¡¯d been in his party before. He couldn¡¯t imagine that someone like Syrah would casually let him get away with crimes. For all he knew, showing himself had been some kind of test. If he hadn¡¯t said anything, Oren might be coming to him to make evidence disappear next. Better to nip that kind of thing in the bud as soon as possible. ¡°So, I was right not to say anything?¡± he asked. ¡°No!¡± Ed snorted, somehow annoyed and amused at the same time. ¡°That was stupid. Dangerous, too. Glim was in charge ¨C he needs all the information you can give him to do his job. You have to trust that the people in charge of you are in that position for a reason." He scowled deeply for a moment, hesitating for a second, then added grudgingly. "Unless they''re idiots like Righmond who don''t belong there. But that''s an exception and not the situation here. In this case, Glim knows a lot more about this job than you do. He would have made the right call. You¡¯re lucky that it worked out despite you withholding important information. Don¡¯t do it again.¡± ¨C--------- As Bernt returned to the goblin quarter, he was surprised to find it was much more active than he¡¯d expected. Groups of goblins were hauling supplies up and down the street while others leaned out of their windows to exchange gossip with neighbors and passersby. People seemed tense, but not suspicious like they had on his patrol route in the dwarven quarter earlier. Now that he thought about it, it was probably just the nature of the neighborhood. Goblins were a tight-knit group in Halfbridge, hundreds of people crowded into the margins of Halfbridge¡¯s society. If Nirlig was any indication, they probably mostly knew each other. Hell, he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if most of them were from the same clan. In the distance, he could see a patrol wandering down the street ¨C just two guards per patrol now that the initial shock had passed. The Underkeepers couldn¡¯t sustain a heavy presence out in the streets for long. They just didn¡¯t have enough people. At least it didn¡¯t look like they¡¯d need them here. Waving at them tiredly, Bernt began digging through his pockets to look for the keys to his brand new door. Jori was already inside, but she¡¯d gone in through an air vent that ran through the ceiling and opened up near the top of the tunnel. ¡°Hey there, human!¡± a voice called, and Bernt looked up and around. Two doors down, an older goblin woman leaned out of her window, waving to get his attention. ¡°What is going on up there? Rumor is that the dwarves are attacking, and my fool boy had to join his father in the guard. Of all the times! I haven¡¯t heard a thing in hours. Are they alright?¡± ¡°Uh. Are you Nirlig¡¯s mother?¡± Bernt asked, noticing the resemblance. He knew that Nirlig lived nearby, but he hadn¡¯t realized just how close, or that he lived with his parents. He supposed it made sense. It was hard enough for him to find a place to live. ¡°Yes, I am,¡± she confirmed. ¡°Should be obvious. It¡¯s not as though he takes after his father.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Bernt answered eloquently. ¡°Right. They¡¯re both fine, as far as I know. It wasn¡¯t as bad out there as we feared it might get. No idea what it¡¯s like on the surface, but I didn¡¯t hear anything about any attack. The duergar just came up to the surface to cut the main roads.¡± ¡°Ah. Well. I guess that explains a few things.¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Bernt nodded and waved as he opened his door, which swung open easily and soundlessly on expensive wrought iron hinges. It even had a pleasant woody smell. As he entered, though, he smelled something else ¨C smoke, burnt hair and cooking meat. ¡°Bernt!¡± Jori called, grinning widely at him as she waved a stick with something stuck on one end. ¡°I made dinner!¡± There was a small fire built inside Bernt¡¯s latest attempt at a stove ¨C it was mostly just a stone box with a misshapen tube that connected to their air vent. He¡¯d almost accidentally sealed off the vent on his first try, but it was sort of functional, now. Jori had loaded a few scraps of wood into the box, lit it, and then put her catch on top of the box to cook. The rats looked burnt on one side, and Jori¡¯s attempt to skin them was pretty halfhearted, but she¡¯d cleaned them and Bernt was fairly sure that they were technically edible.. Jori had never tried to cook before. It was nice ¨C the gesture, not the food. But that was fine, his grocery budget was looking awfully small, at least for a few more days. ¡°Thanks, Jori,¡± he said, accepting one of the rat-kabobs. They could work on cooking technique later. And salt. ¡°How did it go on the surface? I couldn''t really tell what you were doing, but I saw that you were with the kids.¡± ¡°Eh.¡± Jori shrugged. ¡°It was fine. I took them home. Ed told me that I had to keep the interns away from bad things because they were young. Farrin said the same, too. I think Trip might be older than me, though.¡± She tilted her head consideringly, but then shook it. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I promised that I would do what the Great Mage says. So, nothing happened.¡± That last statement came out just a little too forcefully to be the literal truth, but Bernt was too tired to go digging for more information. As long as nobody got hurt, it wasn¡¯t really his concern right now. Maybe he¡¯d ask Trip about it later. Picking a bit of singed fur off his food, he began telling Jori about his day. He¡¯d always talked to Jori, but until relatively recently, it had been the way that lots of people talk to their pets. Sure, she could always sort of understand him, but she¡¯d only gained real sapience ¨C and started talking back ¨C a bit over a month ago during their dungeon delve. Now, she was working on her own most days. At first, Ed had kept her on a relatively tight leash, ensuring that she wouldn¡¯t be seen in public without Bernt or someone else who could be identified as some kind of handler. Once people had grown more used to seeing her, though, that had changed. She¡¯d always spent time on her own, but she hadn¡¯t really had her own life until now. It was a good change, and one that seemed to suit her well. More importantly, though, Bernt was increasingly getting the sense that this change was something else as well ¨C unprecedented. Josie had been spending more and more time with her and engaging her in conversation. She probably wanted to observe her, and that made sense. Jori defied a lot of stereotypes about what a demon should be, or how they should behave, at least. Sure, she had only the vaguest sense of morals, and she seemed to specifically enjoy hurting those she considered ¡°bad¡±. But, she also had direct personal relationships with mortal people like himself, his adventuring party, Ed, and the other underkeepers ¨C not to mention her ¡°interns¡± who she seemed very attached to. She was carving out a place for herself in normal society, and that was something that Bernt was pretty sure no demon had ever done. It certainly wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d expected would happen when he¡¯d taken her home after finding her crouching in the sewer. Still, he was glad to be a part of it. ¨C------- Bernt grunted in pain as he banged his toe against a stone lump that he recognized as last night¡¯s attempt at making a cooking pot with his stone-shaping spell. It hadn¡¯t gone very well. Cursing to himself, he stumbled toward the door, from which emanated a rapid and insistent knocking sound. There was no way that it was already morning. He had a spell for that, and it hadn¡¯t gone off yet. About halfway there, the room suddenly came into clear focus as Jori opened her eyes and lent him her perspective through the bond, sort of pushing the image into his mind alongside her amusement at his blind scramble. That was new. While the information was a little confusing, since it gave him a third-person perspective on his own position, it did serve to remind him that seeing things was good, and running around in the dark was not smart. With a quick bit of concentration and an effort of will, Bernt conjured a light and opened the door to find Palina, fully armed and armored and raising her hand to pound on the door once more. Two doors over Bernt could see Lin rapping on Nirlig¡¯s door. Something was happening. ¡°Bernt, Jori!¡± she called. ¡°Get out here! The army intercepted six tunneling crews in the last hour and one of those earth mages detected another one trying to burrow into the Undercity Market from below as we went out. We¡¯re going on full alert again.¡± Jori poked her head out of the doorway above Bernt ¨C she¡¯d climbed up the wall. ¡°Are we doing patrols? I missed the last one! Bernt got to fight, but I missed the whole thing!¡± ¡°No, no.¡± Palina shook her head, already turning to head further down the street. ¡°Meet up at Headquarters. We¡¯re going to stand in reserve to intercept any incursions ¨C the mages will detect if anyone breaks into the wards and tell us where to go.¡± Bernt ducked back inside to grab his staff and pull on his heavy armored robe, then he hurried down the street to where Nirlig was already waiting. He felt a tug on his robe as Jori scrambled up to his shoulder, being careful not to sink her claws into him as she did. She was getting a bit too big to sit there comfortably, but she liked the familiar spot, and he wasn¡¯t going to make her move. He noted as she settled herself that her gray Underkeeper-style robe had been burnt and torn pretty badly ¨C an unavoidable side effect of putting a fire-proof demon into a flammable robe. He¡¯d have to come up with a solution soon, or maybe he could talk Ed into providing something for her. Or, maybe... Yes. He knew someone he could try. Just as soon as he got paid. ¡°So, do you think we¡¯re going to get to fight them today?¡± Nirlig asked as they started walking quickly toward the Undercity Market. He sounded more excited than concerned. Goblins weren¡¯t known for either their cautiousness or pacifism, and it showed. ¡°Maybe,¡± Bernt yawned. ¡°but I have a feeling that we¡¯re not going to be sleeping very much.¡± 2.19 Banefire ¡°Three, two, one, now!¡± Kustov barked and backed away from the fist-sized hole he¡¯d been making in what looked like a random spot in the tunnel connecting the Undercity to Halfbridge proper. Bernt stepped forward and activated a new spellform that he¡¯d been working on for the past two weeks ¨C ever since the duergar had begun sending tunneling crews. He¡¯d spent a lot of time trying to come up with a good name for it before he finally settled on Banefire. Josie had insisted that ¡°cold fireball¡± was simple, descriptive and sounded better, but how could he let a spell like this carry such a boring, mundane name? Nirlig, at least, had agreed with him. A goblin of impeccable taste, that one. Jori understandably hadn''t wanted anything to do with the spell or its naming. The liquid grey mass of roiling flames spun in front of his outstretched hand for a split second, then shot down the hole. There was a woosh, followed by agonized inhuman screams that echoed weirdly through the narrow pipe in the rock. This was a lot better than the diffuse flames that he¡¯d used the last time they tried this maneuver. It wouldn¡¯t kill all of the tunnelers ¨C only their demons, or maybe some of their warlocks if there were any in this group. Those who bound themselves too closely to their demons made themselves vulnerable, as he''d found out a few weeks earlier. ¡°Down!¡± Kustov yelled and Bernt ducked, but nothing happened. He rose and rolled his eyes at the dwarf. ¡°It¡¯s not normal fire. It doesn¡¯t burn hot, alright? I was going to be fine.¡± Stepping back, he shook out his hand to banish the achy tingle that was spreading up his lower arm. He¡¯d need to avoid casting for a little while or it would get worse. Jamming his fingers into his ears, he backed up further as Josie stepped up to the hole, leaned toward it and screamed. Then, without any further prompting, Kustov lightly dragged his hammer down along the wall next to her. A massive rumbling sound accompanied the motion and the ground shook slightly as the fresh tunnel collapsed on top of the dwarves, still paralyzed and unable to act. It was routine by now ¨C one developed during weeks of playing whack-a-mole with the few teams of incoming sappers that made it past Arice¡¯s defenses. There had been some proper fighting out there, but specific news were hard to come by, even here, relatively close to the front lines. Unable to keep everyone on alert all the time, Ed had put together a few specialized teams to stop duergar incursions while everyone else went mostly back to their regular duties. They¡¯d had to modify their approach a few times ¨C once by bringing in Josie to counter enemy geomancers who were good enough to resist Kustov¡¯s attempt to collapse their own tunnel onto them, and again just now, by using cold fire to kill or at least preoccupy the demons that they had started to send to counter Josie¡¯s abilities. Their team still included a small contingent of regular guards, just in case, but those stayed well back to protect themselves from the warlock¡¯s blood-curdling scream. Kustov held his hand to the wall for a moment, then nodded to himself and turned around to give the fighters a wave. ¡°All clear. We can head back.¡± The sigh of relief wasn¡¯t explicit, but Bernt could sense it as everyone relaxed just a bit. Someone murmured something and another voice laughed in reply. ¡°That¡¯s a good spell.¡± Kustov said, slapping Bernt on the shoulder. ¡°You really made it up yourself, in just a couple of weeks?¡± ¡°Sort of.¡± Bernt said, ¡°I found a scroll with the base spell for cold fire in the dungeon. It just took me this long to turn it into a proper fireball. If I¡¯d known how useful it could be, I would have started working on it a lot sooner.¡± ¡°Foresight is a mark of intelligence, but wisdom mostly comes in hindsight.¡± Kustov chuckled. ¡°Next time, you¡¯ll be quicker to recognize potential when it falls in your lap. Still, that¡¯s pretty fast even just to modify an existing spell. You should keep practicing it. My old mentor always said that the best way to grow is to lean into your strengths. Have you brought it to the guild yet? They might buy it from you if they don¡¯t have something better, already.¡± ¡°I showed them the base spell.¡± Bernt said. ¡°But I really should bring them this version, I think.¡± He¡¯d brought the scroll by the guild back when he was still trying to figure out what it did, but they hadn¡¯t seemed interested in it then. Now that he knew what it did¡­ well, Kustov had a point. The Mages¡¯ Guild hoarded all kinds of magical knowledge. Now that he¡¯d modified the cold fire into a proper weapon that they could use against the current threat... Well, he was sure Iriala would be able to use that for something. He might be able to afford his guild membership sooner than expected ¨C and that could mean finally getting his next investiture. Kustov reached up to pat him on the back and then moved up to chat with Glim, who immediately pulled out a flask of something to share. Bernt slowed down a bit to get some distance. Dwarves distilled alcohol, to be sure, but that couldn¡¯t be the only thing in their spirits. A drinking dwarf¡¯s breath alone could make your eyes water if you were too close. Ironically, they rarely seemed to get drunk, despite their best efforts ¨C dwarves were powerfully resistant to poisons of all kinds. ¡°Uh. Hey, did you do that on purpose?¡± Bernt flinched slightly, only then realizing that, by slowing down a step, he was now walking right next to Josie. The warlock stared down at his right arm with a frown. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. He raised his hand as if to look at it. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Your soul looks weird there,¡± she replied, pointing. ¡°The lines are sort of uneven, thicker and then thinner in parts, and not completely straight ¨C I mean like little tiny bends back and forth.¡± Bernt stared at her as if she¡¯d suddenly grown a second head. Then he looked back down at his hand. ¡°What? My soul? How do you¡­ what?¡± ¡°So¡­ not on purpose, then?¡± Josie said. "Hey, don''t look at me like that! I don¡¯t usually keep my third eye open when I don¡¯t need it ¨C it¡¯s distracting, but I was using it to watch for shades earlier when you were casting. Does that mean you messed up your advancement process?¡± Bernt stopped walking, stunned. ¡°Wait, wait. You can see my entire mana network? Everyone¡¯s?¡± Josie turned around and squinted at him in annoyance. ¡°I told you that I could. I think that was on my first day, even.¡± ¡°I knew that you could sense spirits, or souls or something¡± Bernt spluttered. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that meant you could look right into a mage¡¯s entire architecture! I mean, could you draw one from what you see?¡± ¡°It''s all the same thing, basically,¡± Josie said. ¡°And no, of course not. Not unless one held still for me for a few hours at least. Do you have any idea how messy a mage¡¯s spirit looks, even compared to some of the other magic users? Yours isn¡¯t too complicated, I guess, but you aren¡¯t very advanced yet.¡± ¡°Yea, I mean, I only have one investiture,¡± Bernt said, looking down at his arm again in concern.. ¡°And no, I didn¡¯t mess up the investment process. I got burned by that warlock a couple of weeks ago, up by the gate. I thought it was healing okay. I can cast almost normally again¡­¡± It had been getting better. He¡¯d told himself that it probably wasn¡¯t that big a deal. Now, though. What could he do if it just¡­ didn¡¯t? What if it got worse? Cold fear quivered in his belly. Josie was watching him with what looked like actual concern. He carefully schooled his expression. ¡°Thanks for telling me.¡± he said sincerely as he started moving again. ¡°I¡¯ll get it checked out. Come on, we need to get back ¨C wouldn¡¯t want to miss out on all that waiting around we have waiting for us back at headquarters.¡± ¨C------ Bernt stepped into the Mages¡¯ Guild and pulled a scroll out of his sleeve as he shut the door behind him. He hadn¡¯t been up on the surface in nearly a week, when he¡¯d come up to seek out Grixit at the Gateside Market. All in all, the defense was going well, but fear was still spreading. The situation in the city was getting worse, as one might expect during a siege ¨C prices had surged on basic goods and a lot of supplies were running low. There weren¡¯t as many people in the street, and those that did kept their heads on a swivel, always on alert. It made the atmosphere inside the Mages¡¯ Guild all the more jarring. The place was completely calm, just as it had been the last time he was there. The same mage as last time was still copying papers at the front desk and handing them to his monkey familiar to file. Didn¡¯t he ever leave? Every now and then, a mage would pass by at a comfortable, leisurely pace going from one part of the building to another. Shaking his head to banish the thought, Bernt stepped up to the desk and put his scroll down on it. He¡¯d spent most of the afternoon creating it from memory ¨C most of his days on counter-tunneler duty really were spent just waiting around. Josie hadn¡¯t been able to tell him anything further about his arm, and none of the other mages on duty had ever heard of anything like what she described. So, Bernt had decided to try the Guild. If he could sell his Banefire spell here, he might be able to buy his membership. That would give him access to the library and, probably more importantly, the guild librarian. If they didn¡¯t pay enough to afford him membership, maybe he could get a meeting with Iriala ¨C she should at least know who he could talk to. He¡¯d wanted to ask Ed first, but the archmage wasn¡¯t at the office. But he could always ask him later if this didn¡¯t pan out. The short man snatched the scroll from the desk and unrolled it, eyes scanning the paper in seconds. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± he asked, voice clipped and hard. ¡°Spell scrolls aren¡¯t to be removed from the library!¡± Bernt scowled. ¡°It¡¯s not from the library. I developed a spell to kill demons and I want to sell it to the guild. Can you tell me what it¡¯s worth?¡± ¡°You developed it,¡± he repeated flatly. ¡°One of the archmage''s pet Underkeepers. To kill demons.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Bernt said, unable to keep his voice entirely neutral. ¡°It¡¯s a fire spell. Would you like me to demonstrate it here?¡± The other mage¡¯s eyes narrowed and he glanced to the side at the papers stacked all around. ¡°I would recommend that you watch your tone, young man. Also, that won¡¯t be necessary. Assessments are done by relevant specialists, not here at the front desk. I¡¯ll tag it for review and have it sent to Magister Pollock. You should have a reply within the week.¡± Bernt tried not to grind his teeth and moderated his tone. ¡°I was hoping to expedite the process, if possible, considering the current situation outside. Is Magister Pollock here? Maybe I could talk to him¡­¡± ¡°No.¡± The man said bluntly. ¡°There are proper procedures for this sort of thing. Those procedures exist exactly for times like these to ensure that the business of the guild continues to get done without the gaps in quality control and legal review that the chaos of a crisis might otherwise enable.¡± Bernt scowled at the man for a few seconds, trying to think of anything he might be able to say to the man to change his mind. He was about to turn and leave, defeated, when inspiration finally struck. ¡°Ah! I need to speak with Archmage Iriala.¡± The receptionist rolled his eyes and asked sarcastically. ¡°Do you have an appointment?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Bernt said, trying to keep the grin off of his face. ¡°I do.¡± 2.20 Magister Pollock ¡°I hope you actually have something for me.¡± Iriala said as Bernt entered her office. ¡°My receptionist seems to think you¡¯re just trying to go over his head.¡± Bernt shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Uh. no. I mean, It''s not just that, I do have something for you.¡± The archmage raised an eyebrow at him mildly, but Bernt suddenly felt as though he were in danger and he rushed to continue. ¡°I was on defense duty with Josie today and I learned something that seemed¡­ relevant, at least. About the Solicitors, I mean... not all of them, but Josie in particular. She can see the mana networks of mages. In detail. She noticed some spiritual damage in my arm ¨C I thought it was mostly healed already, but it might be worse than I thought¡­ anyway, don¡¯t you think that might be the reason the Solicitors placed her in the Underkeepers?¡± Iriala¡¯s face grew thoughtful, but eventually she shook it. ¡°They probably just did it because she¡¯d be the most useful ¨C I expect that she can also find invisible creatures and sense demons. It''s not unheard of. Being able to see a mage¡¯s mana network wouldn¡¯t be very useful for a warlock, except maybe to see how many investitures they have. Was there anything else?¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Bernt said. He already knew that it wasn''t much ¨C Josie had said as much, but he¡¯d needed a reason to talk to Iriala, and this was new information ¨C to him at least. ¡°I also wanted to bring by this spell that I developed ¨C I call it Banefire. It counters hellfire to an extent, and it kills demons. Or, at least, they really don¡¯t like it.¡± Iriala sat up straight. ¡°Really? It sounds... relevant to our current situation, though I''m not sure about the name. It''s your spell, I guess.¡± She held out a hand. ¡°Give it here, I''ll get it looked at.¡± Bernt swallowed. ¡°Uh¡­ your receptionist has it. He said he would send it to Magister Pollock and he didn''t give it back when I asked. I was hoping to sell it to the guild and maybe use that to finance my guild membership.¡± Iriala snorted. "Let''s take a look before we start talking price." Light swirled in one lens of her glasses, flicking from one image to the next too quickly for Bernt to catch what she was looking at. She rose and strode toward the door. ¡°I guess I can spare a few minutes. Come along!¡± The archmage walked down the hall so quickly that Bernt had to jog to catch up. Instead of going to the entrance, though, she led him down another hall and up a flight of stairs to a door labeled ¡°Wizard¡¯s Society and Research Division¡±. Without knocking, she flung the door open and marched through into a corridor lined with doors, practically dragging Bernt in her wake. ¡°Pollock! Get in here!¡± She called as she pulled him into one of the rooms on the right. ¡°I need you to take a look at this.¡± The room was bigger than it looked on the outside, but still not large. It contained a writing desk, a small, mostly empty shelf where someone had forgotten a haphazard stack of loose papers, and a relatively large bit of clear floorspace, where a circle of runes had been carved directly into the stone. Bernt recognized it immediately and realized what they were about to do. Without prompting, he began casting, visualizing the spellform in the air in front of him. It was still a new spell to him, so it took him nearly fifteen seconds to get the job done. Once he did, he carefully stripped out the effects of his investiture ¨C he wasn¡¯t trying to sell that ¨C and released the spell into the circle. When he looked up, he found that they weren¡¯t alone anymore. Iriala and a stooped elderly man were standing just on the other side of the circle, both watching with interest as the gray fire unraveled into the spellform that defined it. The man was ancient, with just a few tufts of fine white hair poking outward from his otherwise bald head, compensated by a long bushy beard that completely hid his mouth. ¡°It¡¯s...¡± The old man adjusted a pair of spectacles and moved to the side to view it from another angle. ¡°Well, it¡¯s modeled on a standard fireball, clearly. But it¡¯s using a different basis for the fire itself ¨C very unusual and complex, too. Very fun! I¡¯ve never seen it before. What does it do?¡± ¡°He says it burns demons.¡± Iriala said and looked over at Bernt. ¡°The fire-demons, too, right?¡± Bernt nodded. ¡°Yes, it sort of cancels out hellfire, or it weakens it. I¡¯m not entirely sure, but I think it saved my arm from getting burnt off a few weeks ago.¡± ¡°I see, I see.¡± The old man, presumably Magister Pollock, said distractedly and pointed. ¡°And what made you decide to orient the ignition rune like that?¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t ¨C it was that way in the original cold fire scroll that I based this on. If I had to guess, though, it¡¯s because a normal fire spell burns mana for fuel and uses the heat that generates to burn things, just like regular fire does. The heat is what does the damage. Cold fire isn¡¯t hot, at least not very. The rune in this spell is oriented to ignite whatever that bit of the spellform is describing there instead of just mana.¡± Bernt pointed to the cluster of runes in question. ¡°This has some overlap with the spellform for hellfire, though I couldn¡¯t find any part that was an exact match. It¡¯s not the same, but I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s why the spells interact.¡± Magister Pollock peered at Bernt curiously. ¡°You tried to work it out on your own? And you have access to the spellform for hellfire?¡± He turned to Iriala and slapped her on the shoulder lightly, chiding her. ¡°He tried to work it out on his own! And he¡¯s not even very wrong! Why didn¡¯t you send him to me sooner?¡± ¡°He¡¯s not a guild member, Pollock.¡± Iriala said with exaggerated patience. ¡°What do you think it¡¯s worth? He was saying that he wanted to try to trade it for membership.¡± She looked at Bernt with a raised eyebrow. ¡°You were, weren¡¯t you?¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°I was hoping that it was worth enough gold to buy my membership, yes.¡± He didn¡¯t want to just trade it directly¡­ not if it might be worth more than the price of membership. Pollock cackled, revealing a gap-toothed grin. ¡°Then I¡¯ll say fifty gold pieces, or a direct trade for membership plus access to the wizard¡¯s society. Simple enough.¡± Bernt frowned. Clearly, he shouldn¡¯t have said anything. Guild membership cost exactly fifty gold marks. Now the old man was trying to steer him. Then again, spell research was something he was very interested in. If Pollock was a wizard as well as a specialized pyromancer, then he would probably prove even more useful than the guild library. In fact¡­ ¡°Uh. Do you know anything about hellfire? Or about fire that can damage the spirit in general? That fight I mentioned, where I avoided losing an arm? I have some lingering issues from that.¡± Magister Pollock squinted at him through his glasses. ¡°Really? Well¡­ I don¡¯t know for certain, but I think you¡¯re in the right place. We can take a look when you¡¯re a proper member and everything. I don¡¯t work with any old riffraff off the street, you know. I¡¯m a guild resource!¡± Bernt looked over at Iriala, who was watching the proceedings with a pleased expression. She nodded at him, urging him to accept. ¡°Oh just take the deal, boy. He¡¯s a little eccentric, but he¡¯ll get you a lot further than a bag of gold. Besides, it¡¯s access to the wizard¡¯s society, not a job. He can¡¯t make you work for him or even show up when you don¡¯t want to.¡± She emphasized the last bit, staring pointedly at the old man, who snorted at her. ¡°Silly girl. He¡¯ll be knocking down my door at all hours if he knows what¡¯s good for him!¡± ¨C------ Bernt signed the short, one-page contract at the front desk and slid it over to the dour-looking receptionist. Without looking, the man duplicated the thick paper once and handed the copy to his monkey, who went to file it away. Bernt pocketed the original wordlessly and turned back to Magister Pollock, who watched the proceedings with the impatience of a child waiting for dinner. ¡°Wonderful. Welcome to the Mages¡¯ Guild, boy. Come along, now, I want to see what you¡¯ve done to your arm.¡± Without waiting for a response, the old man turned and started hiking back up the stairs at a geriatric pace. Bernt hesitated for a second, but then followed and lent his arm to the man. Somehow, Bernt felt that Pollock was too excited. About his spell, about him, about the damage to his arm. No one had shown this kind of interest in him before, and it made him suspicious. Then again, he¡¯d paid for it, hadn¡¯t he? He was sure that a lot of mages were about to learn his spell, and not just in Halfbridge. The scryers would disseminate it to every other Mages¡¯ Guild branch in the country. Cold fire was already proving to be very valuable against the duergar ¨C how much better would it be when every pyromancer in the guild, not to mention Arice¡¯s army had it? ¡°So, then.¡± Pollock said as they walked. ¡°Tell me exactly what happened. We¡¯ll take a closer look back at my office, but we¡¯re going to be walking a while. I¡¯m not as young as I used to be, you know?¡± Trying to remember exactly what he saw, Bernt related what had happened in the fight against the warlock at the Undercity Gates, from the initial burn to Syrah¡¯s healing. ¡°Hmmm. And that was everything?¡± Pollock asked, taking a breather on the landing. ¡°Well. In that fight, yes. But I¡¯m worried that there might be more to it. The same arm was exposed to an alchemical poison about two months ago and I also strained my mana network during the kobold invasion around that time ¨C though it was fine again before that.¡± The old man frowned, considering. ¡°We¡¯ll have to take a closer look at it. I doubt the strain did anything permanent in a single day of overuse. Mages who burn themselves out usually do so over months or years ¨C it¡¯s common with soldiers, people who cast a lot of spells under pressure. Better to take a risk than get killed, right? Alchemical poisons can be tricky, though. They¡¯re magical, so sometimes you can get unpredictable spell interactions if the residues aren¡¯t completely eliminated. Tell me about this poison. What happened there?¡± By the time Bernt finished relating his experience with the Alchemists¡¯ Guild, they¡¯d finally made it back to Pollock¡¯s office. The room was much larger than the small laboratory that they¡¯d been in earlier, with shelves of ancient-looking books, stacks of notes that covered nearly every available surface, and two large cabinets that stood behind a massive desk that was also nearly buried underneath stacks of loose papers. The old man bustled over to one of the cabinets and rummaged around in it for a few moments before withdrawing a broken piece of chalk. Then, taking a seat in his large chair, he moved a few of the smaller stacks of papers onto some of the larger stacks and began to draw directly onto the desk. Bernt watched curiously, realizing a few seconds later that he was creating a rune circle. It wasn¡¯t like any that he¡¯d seen before, though it didn¡¯t look complicated at all. Simpler, even, than the one used for investments or spell analyses that was carved into the floor of the other room. ¡°Alright,¡± Pollock said. ¡°Just hold your arm up over the circle there and run a little mana through it. A little lower. Yes, just like that.¡± As Bernt channeled mana, a small group of glowing blue lines appeared in the air right above his arm. They didn¡¯t form any definitive pattern, they just ran alongside each other at a slight curve, with one twisting slightly around two others. Over the next few seconds, though, the image grew clearer. The lines weren¡¯t quite straight, wobbling back and forth at very slight angles and they were oddly textured ¨C a little knobby and sort of rough-looking on the outside. ¡°Hmm,¡± the old man said, moving from side to side as if to get a better look. ¡°That¡¯s pretty unusual, yes. I¡¯ve never seen an odd texture like this.¡± Bernt swallowed. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s going to get in the way of my development? I was hoping to get my second investiture soon ¨C the archmage promised me access to your perpetual flame.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Pollock said, eyebrows going up in surprise. ¡°Pretty daring architecture, that one. Dangerous.¡± He looked back at the projection thoughtfully. ¡°I don¡¯t really know. If I were you, I would at least try to understand your condition better before proceeding. It shouldn¡¯t really take long, though. We can do a few more tests here, and we might be able to get an alchemist to take a look as well. They don¡¯t know anything useful about mana networks, mind you, but it might help you figure out whether any alchemical interactions are involved.¡± Bernt grimaced. ¡°I¡¯ve had some bad experiences with the alchemists. I don¡¯t know that I want to ask them for help.¡± The old man laughed. ¡°Alchemists are just people, boy. When you don¡¯t trust an organization, you turn to individuals." He waved dismissively. "I¡¯ll handle that part. Just be here tomorrow, same time.¡± 2.21 Catching up with a Friend Bernt left the Mages¡¯ Guild with a spring in his step, taking a left toward the Gateside Market. He still had something to take care of before he headed home. Things were finally moving along ¨C with his new guild membership, he could finally get his next investiture, and with access to Magister Pollock and the library, he should be able to do something about his arm. Moreover, the ancient magister was a master pyromancer and a wizard. There was no telling what he might be able to learn from someone like that. As he stepped out into the sullen flow of traffic, though, reality came crashing back in. A small group of guards passed by at a run, already visibly sweating as they headed past him toward the western walls. He recognized one of them, a gate guard who had looked the other way for him once when he¡¯d needed somewhere safe to practice. Something was happening. Bernt hadn¡¯t carried his staff all the way up here, but he always carried his wand with him. He could help. Making a decision, he drew it and hurried after them. By the time he caught up, they were already nearly at the wall, and he could hear shouts followed by cracks and thumps of impact from the other side. ¡°Clear!¡± Came a familiar voice from above. It was Therion. ¡°Incredible! I didn¡¯t even have to draw my bow.¡± Another, older voice answered. ¡°They grow up so fast! Your mom always says it, but I think I know what she means now. Come on, we have to go out and collect their hands for the bounty! My boy¡¯s going to be rank 5 in no time!¡± Bernt heard a long-suffering sigh which turned into a mortified groan as Therion came around the bend of the stairs to find an entire group of guards plus Bernt standing in the way. A second later, Garius came down behind him. ¡°Ah, good evening, friends! It''s fine, you can head back. It was just a small party trying to get creative with the walls. My son here already took care of it.¡± Then his eyes found Bernt. ¡°Oh, Therion, it¡¯s your friend from the academy! Hi, Bernt!¡± Bernt nodded to him, trying to shake off the surprise of running into the man like this. Therion¡¯s father was one of the highest ranked adventurers in the city. ¡°I, uh¡­ I saw the guards running and just wanted to see if anyone needed a hand.¡± Therion turned to Garius. ¡°Dad, do you mind grabbing the hands for me? I think I¡¯d like to catch up with Bernt for a minute.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Garius said, clapping Therion on the shoulder. He gave Bernt a little wave and walked off. The guards left a moment later, leaving just one behind to go up onto the wall and make sure that everything really was clear. Therion watched his dad leave with an exasperated expression. ¡°So, I¡¯ve got another errand to run,¡± Bernt said, ¡°want to come along?¡± Therion shrugged, seeming to remember where he was. ¡°Sure, why not? I wanted to get your take on what¡¯s going on down in the new Undercity. There are rumors about sappers, demon infiltrators, the goblins forming an army, the Solicitors summoning a demon army against the dwarves, and, of course, everyone forming an alliance with the enemy to wipe out all the humans. Nobody knows anything concrete, though. The count doesn¡¯t allow adventurer parties to collect bounties on duergar down there because we¡¯re not supposed to operate in ¡°residential districts¡± or interfere with the military, which is mostly running around down in the former dungeon. And Underkeepers barely come up here anymore. I¡¯ve seen Jori more often than you since all this started. Do you know she comes up here just to chat with Elyn sometimes?¡± Bernt blinked. He had not known that. But that was fine ¨C why not? He chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s nothing that exciting, for the most part. The goblins seem really well organized, especially now that they have their own space to work with. And a lot have joined up with the Underkeepers ¨C not as exciting as forming an army, but it guess it''s not that different. We¡¯ve been running interference against whatever groups of diggers make it past the general¡¯s lines. They bring demons sometimes, but we haven¡¯t really found any infiltrators so far ¨C though I guess that doesn¡¯t mean they don¡¯t exist. I actually just sold a spell to the guild for a kind of fireball that burns demons.¡± Therion blinked and missed a step. ¡°What? Where did you find that?¡± "It was one of those scrolls that I found in the dungeon. Or, that gave me the idea, anyway." Bernt outlined what had happened to him since they¡¯d last spoken, just before he¡¯d fought against the warlock in the plaza. Therion had heard the first bit of the story from Syrah already, but most of it was news to the other mage. ¡°So, you basically saved the entire Paladins¡¯ Hall," he said. "Or Jori did, I guess, but that''s even better. And now you¡¯ve developed a crucial weapon against the demons.¡± Therion shook his head. ¡°I hope the guild is paying you a king¡¯s ransom for that.¡± Bernt sighed and shrugged. ¡°Eh, sort of. They didn''t pay in gold. I get guild membership, instead, and use of the perpetual flame for my next investiture as well as access to the Wizard¡¯s Society. Magister Pollock volunteered to mentor me and help me fix whatever¡¯s wrong with my arm while we¡¯re at it.¡± Therion squinted at him doubtfully, but then his expression grew thoughtful. ¡°Hmmm. Maybe. I mean, the Wizard¡¯s Society is supposed to have a lot of secrets ¨C theoretical knowledge that isn¡¯t considered reliable enough for the library. Who knows what it¡¯s worth? If you¡¯re crazy enough to use it, I mean.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Bernt shrugged. ¡°I need to fix my arm. If they know anything about that, it¡¯ll be worth it.¡± Privately, he also hoped to maybe pick up a few more rare fire spells, or maybe he could learn more about spell development in general. If he managed to learn enough, maybe he really could begin to design his own investitures. As a wizard himself, Magister Pollock would surely support that kind of endeavor, right? ¡°Uh¡­ another thing.¡± Bernt said, changing the subject. ¡°I saw Oren skulking around a reagent shop that had just been burgled down in the Undercity during the first day of the siege. I think he was involved.¡± He sighed in frustration. ¡°When he saw me, he winked at me. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m supposed to do with that. Who goes around stealing from people at a time like that? And letting me see him. It¡¯s like he¡¯s trying to make me an accomplice. It¡¯s my job to stop him, and he does that.¡± ¡°You should have arrested the idiot.¡± Therion snorted and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m serious ¨C he thinks it¡¯s funny to push people¡¯s buttons. It¡¯s not like anything would really happen to him if you did, but it might keep him from doing it again. He¡¯s a rank 4 adventurer. He¡¯d pay a fine or something.¡± ¡°I guess.¡± Bernt said. ¡°I reported him to Ed. Apparently he¡¯s going to mention it to Branchmaster Ambrose. Maybe the message will get through. If he shows up the next time we get around to practicing, I¡¯m going to set his boots on fire, though.¡± Therion huffed out a laugh. ¡°I¡¯d like to see that.¡± They emerged into the Gateside Market a moment later, and Bernt made right for Grixit¡¯s stand on the far side. Therion, in the meantime, told Bernt about the situation on the surface. The Duergar hadn¡¯t launched any proper assaults above ground, but they did send smaller teams in a near-constant stream. ¡°It¡¯s like they¡¯re trying to test our defenses. Every group tries something slightly different. We¡¯ve had climbers, diggers, some kind of flying contraption, a lot of different attempts at burning or blasting through the wall, and even a mage that tried to cast a teleport spell for his group. We didn¡¯t have to fight them ¨C only half of them arrived on the other side.¡± ¡°So, what, they gave up?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°No, I mean only their lower halves appeared on our side. There¡¯s a reason they don¡¯t teach teleportation at the academy ¨C it¡¯s way too dangerous, even at short range. Their mage probably didn¡¯t funnel quite the right amount of mana into the spell and warped the field boundary.¡± Bernt grimaced. Definitely not worth it. Was it supposed to be a hit-and-run? Why attack with such small groups? It didn¡¯t really make sense. ¡°What I don¡¯t get is why they don¡¯t just try to burn down the city.¡± Therion continued. ¡°Our wards are good and we can stop almost everything, sure, but if they had mages working on our wards and a few demons or warlocks throwing hellfire into the city for days on end, something would get through and catch sooner or later.¡± Bernt grimaced at the thought, but then shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think they want to kill us,¡± he said. ¡°Not yet, anyway. Ed said they¡¯re trying to scare us first. They want proper terror in the city.¡± Therion snorted. ¡°Well, they¡¯re idiots, then. Teres probably already has a relief force on the way to break the siege. Actually, I¡¯m not sure why Arice hasn¡¯t already gone on the offensive to do it himself. Nothing we¡¯ve seen so far suggests that they actually could take us on in a straight fight.¡± Bernt nodded uncertainly. ¡°Maybe, sure. But I don¡¯t think they would lay siege to the city like this if they didn¡¯t think it could work. Better to assume that we just haven¡¯t seen what they¡¯ve got.¡± Besides, nothing so far suggested that the duergar were planning to engage in anything like a fair, head-to-head fight. Like Therion had said himself, they could probably burn half the city down at a comfortable distance if they tried hard enough. Bernt waved to Grixit, who had already seen him and turned to dig around in a sack behind his empty table. ¡°Bernt!¡± Grixit said, tone relaxed and friendly as ever. ¡°You got my message? Take a look at this, it turned out perfectly!¡± He placed a broad, braided leather belt on the table. The leather was a little darker now than it had been in its original form ¨C a filthy mountain lion''s hide wrapped around a dead beaver in the sewers. ¡°It was easier than I thought it would be, actually. I mostly work with natural spirits, you know, not animals. They¡¯re a lot smaller in a metaphysical sense, not as smart and less powerful, but they inherently understand a lot of concepts that a natural spirit can¡¯t really grasp." Therion looked from the belt to Grixit and back, confusion clearly evident on his face. Bernt ignored his friend and looked from the table back toward Grixit¡¯s sack. ¡°Uh¡­ what about the other thing?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Grixit said with a small wave. ¡°Jori already came by to pick it up early this morning. She paid me, too. I didn¡¯t realize your organization was paying her a wage. Very progressive of them!¡± Bernt chuckled. ¡°That was actually mostly Josie¡¯s work ¨C our solicitor. She helped her negotiate with Ed for a salary after the incident with the duergar warlocks. From what I heard, Ed didn¡¯t really argue, but the two of them still made a whole legal case for it.¡± Grixit laughed. ¡°Makes sense, nobody in their right mind argues law with warlocks or demons.¡± Bernt nodded, picking up the belt. ¡°So, how does it work?¡± ¡°You can draw on it to make you stronger and to see better in the dark.¡± Grixit said proudly. ¡°It doesn¡¯t even come with any serious side effects! The lion¡¯s spirit craves the sensations of being alive ¨C taste, smell, and sight. You might develop a craving for raw meat or something if you use it too much, but if we understood each other right, it¡¯ll keep working practically forever.¡± He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ¡°I¡¯d keep this quiet if I were you, though. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve really scratched the surface of what the Berserkers¡¯ Guild does with their own gear, but¡­ well, I think we¡¯re dipping our toes into their water with this. I wouldn''t brag about it too loudly if I were you.¡± Next to him, Therion made a strangled noise and took a step away from them, looking left and right over his shoulders. ¡°The Berserkers!? Are you insane?¡± ¡°A bit, maybe.¡± Bernt smiled, strapping the belt on over his robe. ¡°But not with this. It¡¯s not my fault if they lose their crafting materials in the sewers. And it¡¯s not Grixit¡¯s fault if they appropriated and refined traditional goblin shamanism for their guild. That doesn¡¯t give them the right to stop the goblin from minding his own business and doing what he¡¯s always done, right?¡± 2.22 Expert Opinion As he turned off of the main tunnel thoroughfare and into the smaller one that made up his street, Bernt was struck by just how different the Undercity felt compared to the surface. There were goblin children here, playing in the street while their parents sat out in front of their doors and gossiped. Down the street a bit, a gray-haired goblin directed traffic away from a hole in the road, where two more had opened one of the septic tanks that made up the Undercity¡¯s more labor-intensive waste-management system. They weren¡¯t Underkeepers. No, a tank like that wouldn¡¯t really need to be serviced for a long time yet. But, they had permission from Ed ¨C not that anyone would have stopped them if they¡¯d just gone and done it without asking. Why turn down the help? The muck that they scraped out of the tank would go into buckets, which were loaded into a nearby hand cart that would then be hauled over to a brand new agricultural chamber back behind the goblin quarter ¨C the goblins had dug it out themselves. There, two goblin druids, both of whom Bernt knew were part of the Underkeepers, worked with nearly thirty goblin laborers to produce edible fungi, which they sold at the Undercity Market. They weren¡¯t very good, but that''s what spicy peppers were for. Nobody turned down a cheap food source during a siege. Opening the door, Bernt stepped inside to find that he had company. Nirlig sat on the broad stone ¡°couch¡± that Bernt had made a week before. It would have been passably comfortable if he¡¯d had proper cushions for it ¨C but he wasn''t planning to spend silver on that sort of thing anytime soon. Jori sat next to him, drinking out of a small cup she held with both hands. She was wearing a new robe ¨C more of a long, sleeveless tunic, really, in gray. It fit remarkably well, considering that Grixit hadn¡¯t taken any measurements. If he¡¯d done the job properly, it should be extremely fire resistant and quite a bit more durable than the robe he¡¯d bought her before. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t get shredded quite so quickly. On a low table in front of the two of them stood four different-sized clay bottles. ¡°Nah,¡± Jori said, putting the cup down. ¡°This one is boring! Give me some more of the mushroom fire gin. That¡¯s the good stuff!¡± ¡°Really?¡± Nirlig grimaced, ¡°Ugh. That stuff is terrible. The only one who drinks it is my aunt Striga. You just like it because it has fire in the name.¡± Jori scoffed. ¡°Aunt Striga has good taste! Gimme!¡± Bernt cleared his throat. Both of them turned to look and Nirlig gave him a friendly wave. ¡°Bernt! I heard your team took out a unit of diggers today! Torvald was super jealous. We just stood guard in front of a side tunnel all day. Literally nothing happened.¡± ¡°Uh. Yea, it wasn¡¯t really a fight. They never even broke through. Not really Torvald¡¯s kind of fight, if I¡¯m being honest. He probably wouldn¡¯t think it was fair or something.¡± Bernt hesitated, trying to organize his feelings into a coherent thought. ¡°Have you heard what they¡¯re doing up there on the surface? The duergar, I mean..¡± Nirlig shrugged. ¡°Uh, yes? They bottled us up and are keeping us pinned down. I heard they¡¯re doing it in Yetin¡¯s Harbor, too, but that¡¯s just a rumor, I think. No official news from anywhere.¡± ¡°Right ¨C not what I meant. I mean the way they¡¯re doing it.¡± Bernt clarified. ¡°They just cut off the roads and now they just sit there, sending these small groups at us. It doesn¡¯t make sense. None of the groups could do very much damage, even if they got in. ¡°It¡¯s not that strange.¡± Nirlig said with a mirthless smile. ¡°They¡¯re just sending adventurer parties.¡± Bernt stared at the goblin. ¡°You mean, like in a dungeon?¡± ¡°Sure. I mean, I don''t really know how they do things, but there''s no practical difference from their perspective, right? They¡¯ve put it under containment and now they¡¯ve got teams of people trying their luck to get in and take whatever they can. The only thing missing is a real front-line party. Humans always send in a strong party first to soften the place up. I guess they must not be very serious about killing us. That, or maybe their high-ranking adventurers aren''t dumb enough to take a job like this. There are a lot of scary people in this city. Bernt sat down slowly on a misshapen lump across from them ¨C his first attempt at a chair. What did that mean? What could that mean? ¡°Ahh.¡± Jori sighed contentedly, putting her cup down. ¡°That¡¯s the stuff. So, how did it go up there? Did you sell the spell?¡± ¡°Uh, yes,¡± Bernt nodded, looking down at his hand. ¡°I got guild membership for it, and they¡¯re going to help me figure out what to do about my arm.¡± Nirlig looked curiously at his arm, but he didn¡¯t ask about it. ¡°So, how does that work? Isn¡¯t it a conflict of interest to work for the Underkeepers and also be in the Mage¡¯s Guild?¡± ¡°Eh,¡± Bernt shook his head, taking a seat across from the other two. ¡°Not really. I mean, they both have their interests, but Ed and Iriala are friends, so it¡¯s not really an issue. It just means I could theoretically pursue other kinds of work now without getting into trouble with the guild. And I can get access to their institutional knowledge and resources, which is a lot more important right now. It¡¯s not a bad deal, really, just kind of expensive. Most mages join sooner or later ¨C except most war mages and people like Kustov, because he¡¯s a foreigner.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Nirlig grunted. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you do it sooner?¡± Bernt sighed tiredly. ¡°Because guild membership comes with strings. Guild members are required to respond to emergencies, follow all the guild procedures for various professions, protect guild secrets, and work directly with the government when called upon to ¡®secure dungeons and contain threats as described in the guild¡¯s charter¡¯.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Nirlig chuckled, taking a sip of whatever he had in his own cup. ¡°That makes sense. We already have to do half of that as Underkeepers.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Bernt smiled. ¡°Might as well have the benefits to go with it.¡± -------- After work the next day, Bernt made his way back up to the Mages¡¯ Guild. Ignoring the receptionist entirely, he simply walked right in and headed up toward Pollock¡¯s office. The man still busily copying papers behind the desk didn¡¯t even appear to notice him. Now that he thought about it, he probably could have just gone up to Iriala¡¯s office all along. Oh well. Letting himself in through the Wizards¡¯ Society¡¯s door, Bernt wandered down the hall, trying to remember exactly where Pollock¡¯s office was. Unlike what he would have expected from the local guild¡¯s research center, the place had an oddly abandoned feel to it. More than one door stood open, revealing that quite a few of the rooms and offices were empty and apparently not being used at all. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. The doors of the occupied rooms were adorned with small plaques bearing the names and titles of those who worked there ¨C they were often long and pretentious sounding, but Bernt supposed that was just how things were done. Pollock¡¯s door, when he found it, had an even larger plaque than most ¨C he hadn¡¯t seen it the day before because the door had been open. Pollock Magister - Wizard of Pyromancy Director of Spell Development - Elementalism Hoping he wasn¡¯t late, Bernt knocked ¨C or tried to. He barely made it to the second knock before the old man¡¯s reedy voice answered. ¡°In!¡± Bernt stepped inside. Both the office and the man looked exactly as he¡¯d left them the day before, except this time someone else was sitting in a chair across from Pollock¡¯s desk. It was an old woman, very nearly as ancient as Pollock himself, but where his back was bent with age, hers seemed to have calcified in a straight line. She sat perfectly upright, sipping on a steaming cup with the air of someone who felt that her tea deserved her full and undivided attention. She did not look up when he entered. Pollock, on the other hand, shot him a long-toothed grin. ¡°And there he is right now!¡± he exclaimed with a flourish, apparently continuing a conversation they¡¯d been having. Placing the cup down on its saucer with deliberate care, the woman turned to look at him, examining him with ancient, watery eyes. ¡°Boy, meet Master Alchemist Yrtrude. She used to run the whole godsdamned guild branch here back in the day.¡± Unsure of what to do, Bernt nodded to her. ¡°Hello, pleasure to meet you.¡± Yrtrude sniffed, expressing her displeasure in a manner that only truly old people could really pull off. ¡°You brought me an Underkeeper,¡± she said. ¡°Really, Pollock. Why do you bother? And why are you bothering me?¡± ¡°Oh relax,¡± he scoffed. ¡°The Underkeepers have been getting rehabilitated ¨C here in Halfbridge, at least. Haven¡¯t you been paying attention? Besides, young Iriala told me that the boy joined them deliberately. Bit of a rebel, this one, but he did fine at the academy. I looked at his transcript. Didn¡¯t want to join the military and couldn¡¯t bear to indebt himself for a guild membership with an apprenticeship.¡± ¡°My dear Pollock,¡± she said, rolling her eyes. ¡°You just like him because he sounds like the same sort of fool you were sixty years ago.¡± The old man shrugged and smiled. Yrtrude drew her lips into a line, but then she sighed and turned to Bernt. ¡°Hand!¡± she said, holding out her own by way of demonstration. Her voice was still strong, unlike Pollock¡¯s, and brimmed with a natural sense of authority. Deciding not to say anything, Bernt stepped up to her and held out his right hand, which she gripped by the wrist with her thumb and forefinger, turning it this way and that. ¡°Hmm. Nothing physical. Describe the poison used, any treatments attempted, and any other spells and magical substances it¡¯s come in contact with since.¡± Bernt did, as best he could remember. When he finished, Yrtrude didn¡¯t say anything right away, staring at him with a strange expression. ¡°You mean to tell me,¡± she began, voice thick with disapproval, ¡°that you found a strange alchemical metal lying submerged in filth and you thought it would be fine to just pick it up? With your bare hands? Don¡¯t you even have gloves?¡± Bernt shrugged, doing his best not to shift uncomfortably under her gaze. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what you can get used to when you work in a sewer. And no, gloves get in the way of casting. You don¡¯t always have time to get them off if something comes at you.¡± ¡°I see,¡± she said distastefully and leaned back, keeping her back completely straight the whole time. ¡°Pollock, what could you possibly want with someone like this? He¡¯s a fool.¡± Bernt frowned and opened his mouth to defend himself. Then he shut it again, thinking better of it. He didn¡¯t actually know what he could say here that wouldn¡¯t make him sound stupid, and besides, there was no point in arguing with the woman. Fortunately, Pollock just laughed. ¡°Oh, relax, dear. I can teach proper experimental procedures, that¡¯s the easy part. He¡¯s an ideal candidate. The boy successfully modified a pretty complex spell, and actually made it more useful in the process. Better yet, he¡¯s willing to take risks. Else he wouldn¡¯t have kept using the damaged arm at all, never mind throwing around spells he didn¡¯t properly understand in the middle of a fight. You can¡¯t teach that kind of recklessness. You can teach restraint, though, and tempered properly it¡¯ll make him a damned fine wizard.¡± Yrtrude frowned. ¡°You were too, but you still managed to cripple yourself.¡± Pollock shrugged, apparently unbothered. ¡°Risk is inherent to all real innovation. You can¡¯t do animal testing on a new investiture like you can a new potion. Even my failure moved the entire field forward. Generations of mages and future wizards will benefit.¡± Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°Ehm. Weren¡¯t we talking about my hand?¡± He absolutely wanted to know more about Pollock¡¯s apparent plans for him, but it seemed to him like the old man was skipping ahead a bit too far. He wasn¡¯t going to amount to very much of anything if he couldn¡¯t improve his condition ¨C he¡¯d just keep stressing his mana network and probably make it worse. ¡°We were, yes.¡± Yrtrude nodded. ¡°The metal you touched is called Arefinium. It looks golden, but it¡¯s an alchemical alloy that draws mana out of an object ¨C it has many applications in alchemy. The reason your arm withered is likely because of tiny amounts of trace residue that remained stuck to your skin after you dropped it. Once those traces were saturated with mana, the withering effect stopped, otherwise it might have killed you.¡± Bernt grunted, absorbing that for a moment. He hadn¡¯t realized that just pulling all the mana out of his flesh could have such a horrific physical impact on it. It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine that part of his mana network would have been damaged, even after the lesser restoration potion that he¡¯d been given. ¡°And my mana network?¡± he asked, looking from her to Pollock. ¡°It was likely strained quite badly by this,¡± Yrtrude said. ¡°But nothing permanent, considering that you received the proper treatment almost immediately. I expect, however, that repeated casting strain combined with exposure to some form of hellfire could easily do all kinds of damage to your spirit. Prior strain on your system would not have done that any favors. Hellfire is, of course, a valuable alchemical reagent in its own right. Several martial-type guilds and the military incorporate derivatives of it in their various enhancement procedures, specifically because of its ability to affect the spirit.¡± Bernt blinked. He¡¯d known that hellfire could damage the spirit, and by examining the spellforms for simple fire as well as Jori¡¯s blood, he¡¯d learned that fire was inherently a transformative effect. He hadn¡¯t realized that the alchemists were not only aware of this, but actually using this particular effect of hellfire. ¡°Uh. Does this mean you can fix me? With one of these kinds of elixirs, I mean?¡± Yrtrude shook her head. ¡°No, no. Your spirit is modified into a mana network. That would modify the effect ¨C it would probably kill you. Never mind that any guild whose proprietary recipe I used would come after the both of us for it. Pollock here might believe in taking insane risks, but I don¡¯t.¡± The old man in question leaned forward impatiently. ¡°Alright then. What do you think he should do about it?¡± The alchemist shrugged. ¡°Wait, stop casting spells and hope for it to get better. Maybe try another restoration potion if he can afford it, but I doubt it would work. Those work better for healing recent trauma, not repairing these kinds of chronic problems. You can think of it like trying to remove a scar with a healing potion. It wouldn''t really do much.¡± Bernt did his best to hide his disappointment behind a neutral expression, but he didn¡¯t think he succeeded very well. He couldn¡¯t just not do magic for who knew how long. There was no way. It was part of his job and, more importantly, part of what and who he was. There had to be a better solution out there. 2.23 Treatment Plan ¡°That seems like a needlessly restrictive solution.¡± Josie said, shaking her head. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just use your other hand to cast? Why haven¡¯t you been doing that this whole time?¡± They were sitting in the Underkeepers¡¯ break room over a cup of tea as Bernt caught her up on what had happened since she noticed his spiritual injury. Bernt sighed. ¡°The strain doesn¡¯t really come from channeling the mana out of my hand ¨C at least not the worst of it, unless I lose control of the mana flows. That¡¯s not how it works, I use my entire mana network to help manifest the spellform that I¡¯m visualizing. The arm is just the weakest link, so that¡¯s where I feel the strain. I mean, I guess it would be a little safer¡­ but it¡¯s not a solution.¡± Josie frowned, holding up her own hand. Over the course of a second or two, her fingertips darkened and long claws grew out, then they melted back and the normal hand reemerged. ¡°Doesn¡¯t work that way for me. I have sort of a loopy pattern, a bit of my midnight hag¡¯s spirit, inside my hand. It¡¯s not like your mana network though ¨C it¡¯s physically there, not just spiritual. If I sort of ¡®push¡¯ on it, the claws come out. It¡¯s simple. The third eye works basically the same way.¡± Bernt grunted. ¡°Well, mages don¡¯t. It¡¯s probably just because you¡¯re a warlock.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Josie replied, waving the topic away. ¡°This magister is supposed to be an expert on fire magic, right? Why don¡¯t you just bring him some hellfire and see if he can figure it out? I mean, there has to be some overlap with alchemy there. The alchemists have to use reactions with other magical materials to get whatever they¡¯re making, but you can just rewrite the spellform for it, can¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yeah. Just.¡± Bernt laughed without humor. ¡°We ¡®just¡¯ have to figure out how to tell the spellform for soul-burning hellfire to restore my mana network instead of burning it up some more.¡± Josie frowned at him. ¡°I don¡¯t see the problem. Think about it. You¡¯re reshaping your mana network every time you add an investiture, right? You¡¯re just adding an extra step here, straightening it out a bit right there and maybe clearing out some kind of metaphysical obstruction, ironing out those weird wrinkles there. Hellfire seems like exactly the right thing to use, or something kind of like it as long as you¡¯re not too heavy handed with it.¡± Bernt froze, staring at her as he considered it. If he had the right derivative, he might be able to wear away the malformed "scarring", in a sense, and then heal or reinforce those mana pathways. Josie was right, even though she probably didn¡¯t know why. The best way to do that would probably be during an investment procedure, when he had a spellform to serve as a sort of scaffold. It should also provide that reinforcing effect he needed to help the healing process along. ¡°Josie. I think you might be a genius,¡± Bernt said. ¡°That, or you¡¯re going to get me killed. I need to find Jori, and I need to get something from my house ¨C but I¡¯m going back up to see Pollock today. At least provided that we don¡¯t get an alarm in the next couple of minutes.¡± Josie didn¡¯t respond. She had raised her head and was curiously staring right past Bernt¡¯s arm over the edge of the table and down into his lap. Bernt swallowed and slowly moved his hands to block her view. Josie blinked and looked up. Then she leaned forward and hissed. ¡°You saved the skin from the beaver?! How did you get it made into a belt? Tell me everything!¡± Bernt grinned. ¨C------------ When Bernt stepped into the Mages¡¯ Guild this time, Jori half a step behind, the receptionist did not ignore him. Instead, he drew a slim metal wand from his robe and pointed it right at the two of them. Bernt stopped. From the back room, the man''s monkey familiar screeched in agitation. ¡°No demons on the premises!¡± he snapped, scowling furiously. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Taken aback, Bernt held up both hands in a calming gesture. ¡°Hey! Easy. I just wanted to bring Jori by for Magister Pollock. We need her support for something.¡± Jori, who was standing mostly behind Bernt, leaned around him to glare at the man. "He is rude!" She was surprised and agitated, and it showed in the way she spoke ¨C simpler, a bit less fluently and with more hissing. ¡°A bad man, I think.¡± The mage ignored her, eyeing Bernt sternly. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you do things in your sewers, but this is the Mages¡¯ Guild. You¡¯ll need to go and talk to Magister Pollock and request a Permit for Temporary Containment of an Extraplanar Entity on Guild Grounds. When that¡¯s done, he has to come down here and escort the creature personally.¡± Bernt groaned quietly. This couldn''t be happening. For a moment, he considered trying to push his way past the man, but he looked deadly serious. Grinding his teeth, Bernt took a deep breath and chose the only way forward. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I can get one of those forms here from you?¡± ¨C-------- Nearly thirty minutes later, Bernt and Jori followed Pollock into his office, who immediately shuffled over to his chair and sank down into it with a small sigh of relief. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°Ah. That¡¯s better,¡± he said, peering at Bernt. ¡°Now. You¡¯re telling me that you want to try to create a hellfire derivative that you can use to fix your mana network directly. And you think the best time to do that is during an investment process¡­¡± he paused, waiting for Bernt to nod. ¡°Alright. Why the timing, though? You could infuse hellfire into your network right now without doing a proper investiture, just by carefully running a bit of your spirit out of yourself in a loop and holding the flame over it while you circulate some mana.¡± He waved a hand at the air. ¡°I would advise against that, mind you. It¡¯s been done. But why do you think so?¡± ¡°Too dangerous,¡± Bernt said immediately. ¡°That might affect my entire mana network somehow, even if it shouldn¡¯t. If I do it during the investment process, I would be able to limit the impact to the new investiture. Even in the worst case, it wouldn¡¯t ruin what I¡¯ve already got and I would still be able to finish the augmentation, even if it ends up modified somehow.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Pollock said enthusiastically, ¡°that¡¯s exactly right! Being aware of and managing risk is a critical part of being a wizard.¡± He leaned forward, raising both eyebrows. ¡°Now, what else have you got? I certainly hope you didn¡¯t come here thinking you could just casually rearrange hellfire into some manner of spirit restoration spell.¡± "No, of course not. I''m not sure that''s even possible.¡° Bernt shook his head and pulled open his bag. Reaching inside, he drew out a thick stack of poorly organized notes along with an old, worn-looking journal. ¡°This isn¡¯t exactly about restoration, but I¡¯ve been trying to make sense of this journal for a couple of months now,¡± he began, as Pollock reached for the book and flipped it open. ¡°It¡¯s some long-dead wizard¡¯s theory for transmutation magic ¨C I found it in a pile of garbage down in the dungeon. I think we can use some of the principles he talks about in there to help. I don¡¯t understand everything because it¡¯s all in some old archaic dialect, but I¡¯ve made a lot of notes. I was hoping you could fill in a few gaps¡­¡± The old man flipped through the book with growing excitement, turning the book sideways as he got to one of the diagrams. ¡°Ha!¡± he cackled. ¡°Hahaha! Do you have any idea what you found!?¡± He wheezed, flipping through to another diagram and examining it. ¡°This person was an absolute madman ¨C and my favorite kind!¡± He looked up at Bernt, eyes now aglow with a feverish intensity. ¡°We¡¯re going to make history with this, boy. History!¡± ¨C------ It took a few minutes for the old man to collect himself, and Bernt spent the time digging through his notes to find the relevant pages. Bored, Jori entertained herself by jumping up as high as she could into the air to see how far she could glide on her wings. She thumped against the far wall on the third try, knocking over a small stack of books on the way. Meanwhile, Pollock started reading the text, flipping pages at a rate that suggested he had absolutely no trouble with the odd language that it was written in. ¡°Not half pretentious, wasn¡¯t he?¡± he muttered. ¡°Probably an archwizard. He calls regular mages ¡®bottom-feeding cretins¡¯ here. And now a little underkeeper found his legacy in a pile of garbage. Good irony there, very nice.¡± Bernt made a noise of agreement, though he wasn¡¯t really listening. ¡°Here it is!" he said, holding up a page of notes. "So, the spells recorded in there use fire as a basis to transform objects, but it requires two concurrent spells to do it. One to disintegrate matter and another to reintegrate it into the desired form. But I don¡¯t really need to reintegrate anything here ¨C not if I don¡¯t completely destroy the channels, anyway.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡° Pollock said, taking the piece of paper from him and reading his notes. ¡°You want to modify the hellfire to mimic this kind of solvent effect and then use it to wear away the damaged channel. You prop up what''s left with the spellform for the investiture and then finish the investment process to restore the channels for you. You would probably lose the normal reinforcing effect, so the investiture might be a bit weaker at the end, but it could work...¡± Bernt watched as the old man pursed his lips, apparently thinking about the idea. ¡°You realize that, if you damage your spirit so much that the investiture doesn¡¯t take, you might cripple yourself, right?¡± the wizard asked. ¡°It would weaken your spells permanently. Though, I suppose you¡¯d still have solved the strain issue ¨C your mana network would just be smaller.¡± Bernt nodded. ¡°Hmmm, alright.¡± Pollock said, ¡°It¡¯s a worthy experiment. Someone has to take these risks, after all, so why not you? If it works, we might even be able to adapt it into a proper treatment for overstrained mana networks. You might well become one of the youngest wizards to make such a significant contribution to magical research, never mind the kingdom as a whole!¡± At Bernt¡¯s skeptical expression, the old man stood up straight and wagged his finger at him seriously. ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate the value of innovation. Healing that kind of damage could restore hundreds of veteran war mages to the Beseri military, even if it''s not perfect. It would change the balance of power in the entire region and probably make you stupendously rich in the process...¡± That. Well, that did sound pretty interesting. Before he could say anything, though, Pollock went on. ¡°...never mind what¡¯s in that journal of yours. You don¡¯t even know what he was really doing, do you?¡± He shook his head disbelievingly. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you about it after we solve this problem of yours. No sense in distracting you with the dreams of a mad genius now, is there? Come along!¡± He shuffled out of the room energetically, moving quickly for a man his age. He didn¡¯t go far. Across the hall was a much larger laboratory than the one Bernt had seen two days earlier. This one was, like Pollock¡¯s office, a mess. Tables and chairs were covered with heaps of books and notes, and there were a variety of items lying around that Bernt recognized as focuses, lab equipment, and a discarded cloak. The floor was inset with many rune circles, poured into the stone floor with metal. Only a few of them were the standard version for analyzing spells that Bernt was familiar with. ¡°Alright, young Jori. Cast a bit of fire over into that rune circle there, please,¡° the old man said, rummaging through the clutter on one of the tables, before coming up with a small pen knife. ¡°And when you¡¯re done with that, prick yourself in the skin with this, if you don¡¯t mind. I¡¯ll want to take a look at some of your blood, too.¡± With a wide grin, Jori threw a rather larger-than-necessary handful of hellfire into the rune circle, which obligingly unraveled into a large and complex spellform as it came under its influence. Then she jumped up into the air and glided over to the old man, coming to rest on top of the table that he was still standing next to. She accepted the knife and pricked herself in the palm, pointing up. As usual, a searingly bright flame erupted from the tiny cut, which closed almost instantly. What was less usual was that, instead of dissipating, the fire rolled itself into a ball and floated neatly into one of the other rune circles, where it also unraveled into its constituent spellform. ¡°Now then.¡± Magister Pollock said, adopting a lecturing tone. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go and take a look at those and tell me where you think we should start?¡± 2.24 A Demon on Patrol Duty Bernt closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. On the page in front of him was a vastly simplified spellform that he¡¯d cobbled together from examining Jori¡¯s blood. The first thing Pollock had tasked him with was choosing the best base for his new hellfire-based derivative spell. At first, Bernt had assumed that the pure hellfire would work best ¨C it was a rawer form, less complicated. But, as it turned out, Jori¡¯s blood had a few important advantages. While it was essentially also hellfire, it had aspects of blood magic. It was designed to course through demonic veins, to nourish their bodies, and to heal them. None of that directly addressed his own problem, but it was conceptually a lot closer to what he needed. Now, he¡¯d stripped out all of the bits of the spellform that he didn¡¯t strictly need ¨C not least all the bits that made it a real, physical material. That left him with a non-functioning scaffold of a spell that he needed to reconfigure quite a bit just to make it able to activate at all. Theoretically, this would already be way less dangerous than proper hellfire, but it would be much too chaotic for his purposes and too difficult to contain. He needed a gentle, steady flame that eroded the spirit in a smooth and predictable manner, like hot tea poured over a lump of sugar. Just¡­ maybe a little slower than that. ¡°Alright,¡± Pollock¡¯s voice sounded from behind him. ¡°That¡¯s enough for today. You can come back tomorrow to mess around with it some more. I expect this will take a few days, weeks if you''re slow. I don¡¯t mind if you come in here in the evenings, just don¡¯t touch any of my things. And don¡¯t try to do any tests or cast that spellform until you¡¯ve shown it to me. You can do a lot worse than just burning your eyebrows off with something like this if you don¡¯t know exactly what you¡¯re looking at.¡± The old man looked over to where Jori was curled up on his discarded cloak, sound asleep. ¡°The spellforms can stay up, so you don¡¯t need to bring the little imp with you next time. Poor thing was bored out of her mind. We¡¯re lucky she didn¡¯t try to burn down my lab¡­¡± he looked around at the heaps of papers and books that presumably contained his life''s work. ¡°Not that she could, of course.¡± Bernt nodded, exhausted. It was getting very late, and the old man was a slave-driver. He was almost surprised to hear that he¡¯d be allowed to work on this alone here. After tonight, Bernt worried that the old man would be looking over his shoulder the entire time. Picking up Jori¡¯s sleeping form, he thanked the old pyromancer one more time and made his way out of the building, toward the Undercity and bed. ¨C------- Jori grudgingly waved her interns off and watched them scurry away, further into the building to meet Fiora. Since the duergar had started regularly attacking the walls, they hadn¡¯t been allowed to work up on the surface. Instead, the humans let them run around at headquarters, fetching things and doing boring chores indoors. One of the underkeepers from the surface brought them down every morning now, stopping by the orphanage on their way to work, but Gnugg still dutifully reported to Jori each shift, as he should! Farrin had tried to stop the children from working at all considering the larger situation, but Gnugg had insisted on doing his duty and she didn¡¯t really have the right to stop him. He was a proper kobold and a good minion! Still, she couldn¡¯t bring them. She was going on patrol today with Josie. Ed liked to place her with the warlock, saying it made people more comfortable to see her in the company of a solicitor every once in a while. It was a reminder to them that she wasn¡¯t just a random demon running loose in the streets. And it was a reminder to Jori, though he didn¡¯t say that part out loud. She made her way to the breakroom, where Josie was already waiting with Lin. The matronly goblin was showing her some kind of dried herb, which she apparently found very interesting considering the way she was looking at it. The imp waved to them. Jori didn¡¯t need a minder, and she didn¡¯t want one. The warlock had seemed very suspicious of her at first, but she¡¯d relaxed quite a bit since then. That was good, since they probably wouldn¡¯t get along very well otherwise. Jori thought it helped that the other underkeepers, but especially the goblins, didn¡¯t seem to have the same kind of inherent wariness of her that everyone else had. It was nice. As it was, though, Josie still spent a lot of time drilling her with questions about the hells whenever they were alone. Jori didn¡¯t like talking about the place. Bernt knew that ¨C he could feel it through their bond. And so he didn¡¯t ask. Josie didn¡¯t have those kinds of inhibitions, and Jori was pretty sure that she wouldn¡¯t let something like her discomfort deter her. The warlock was hungry for knowledge the same way that Jori thirsted for the water of life. Unfortunately, she didn¡¯t really have the kind of information the warlock was looking for. The life of a spawnling imp was brutal and usually short. It didn¡¯t include an education in how anything worked, beyond her basic instincts. Besides, she hadn¡¯t really been that smart at the time. ¡°Dhzori.¡± Lin said in her rough goblin accent ¨C a testament to the fact that she hadn¡¯t grown up anywhere near humans. ¡°Good morning! I see you have a nice new clothings!¡± Jori nodded proudly, patting her new sleeveless robes. ¡°Yes! Grixit did it, he made it fireproof! Mostly, anyway.¡± She¡¯d managed to singe it a little bit at one of the seams when she tested it. But still, it was a lot better than her old robes. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Grixit did, did he?¡± Lin scoffed with a wry smile. ¡°Old liar, is that man ¨C likes money too much. He brought that to me last week. I used sap from the old cinder trees, down in the south. You should put it on everything ¨C dark, burning spirit like you. Mix it with wood or mineral ether to thin it a little. You can do it without help.¡± Jori¡¯s ears pricked up with interest. She didn¡¯t really have any other clothes to treat, and she was sure that it wouldn¡¯t be cheap, but it would certainly be better than getting everything from Grixit. Josie was intrigued as well. ¡°What does that cost?¡± she asked, ¡°I¡¯ve never even heard of this, and we deal with hellfire all the time. I had no idea there were natural materials with any resistance to it.¡± Lin shrugged. ¡°Some silver marks for a little bottle. It isn¡¯t bad, the price. But there is not much to buy. Cinder trees have to be old to give good sap, and they are hard to find. Illurian humans take the wood to make boats.¡± She scowled, flicking her fingers in a dismissive gesture. ¡°Stupid humans.¡± Josie coughed and sipped her tea. ¨C-------- ¡°Come on!¡± Josie called, taking a turn off of their patrol route to follow the force of underkeepers that were rushing down the path. It was the current interception team on duty, led by Dayle, and they were moving quickly. Jori didn¡¯t need to be told twice. Despite having been on interception duty herself more than once, she hadn¡¯t gotten to fight even once since that odd duergar patrol had snuck into the tunnels, and that was forever ago. Racing out ahead of the warlock, she rounded the bend to find Dayle organizing his people around a point in the tunnel wall. Ten guards, Nirlig among them, were organized in a loose half-circle around the mage, who stood directly against the wall. Inside the half-circle with him were two goblins. Lin, who was smearing some kind of reddish-brown sludge onto the floor in a smaller, concentric half-circle of odd-looking symbols, and a druid named Rindle. The druid was watching Dayle, who slammed the small shovel that he used as his focus down into the ground with a loud crack, causing deep fissures to radiate out from the point of impact. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, the druid reached into a small pouch that hung at his belt and tossed little grains down into the cracks ¨C seeds of some kind, probably. Josie caught up behind Jori, but she stopped when she saw what they were doing, probably coming to the same conclusion as Jori herself. Stepping in now would only slow them down. They could provide support when they broke through ¨C everything would go crazy then anyway. ¡°Alright, everybody, just like we done practiced.¡± Dayle drawled calmly. ¡°Don¡¯t none of you get cooked, now. You hear?¡± He looked all around. ¡°All right. Here we go.¡± Setting the tip of his trenching shovel against the stone wall, Dayle furrowed his brow for a few seconds, then he traced it over the stone in a pattern that only he could see. A hollow thump sounded against the wall, immediately followed by a muffled cracking noise. On their side, it looked like nothing had happened, but Dayle backed off, nodding to the druid. Go on, there¡¯s still movement in there.¡° Stepping back into the line with the others, the druid took a deep breath and chanted under his breath, repeating the same phrase over and over. Jori didn¡¯t know how druids worked, but all of their magic seemed to take much too long to be useful in a fight. Something green was just starting to wriggle out of the fissures when the stone wall cracked. Then there was a loud crunch and rocks blasted out toward the underkeepers, only to bounce off of a force shield that Dayle had raised in time to protect his team. Jori flinched as something else ran into it and the spell failed. The entire thing lit up in a half dome for a split second, then it was gone. A large duergar, not as big as Furin, but still too big for a normal dwarf, advanced on the group with a shout, swinging a heavy axe. Blood streamed from open cuts on his face, and Jori could see little bits of stone embedded in his skin. He didn¡¯t seem seriously injured, though. Nothing happened when he stepped over Lin¡¯s odd circle of symbols, but the little plants that were still working their way out of the cracks beneath his feet proved to be a bit more effective. Thorny vines curled up and were caught on the dwarf¡¯s boots, growing further in even as he tried to dislodge them. He tore some out, only to find himself ensnared in a fresh batch of slightly more mature plants with each step. It didn¡¯t look like a lethal attack, or even one that was very painful, but Jori could see that it was very distracting. Enraged, the dwarf looked down and kicked, trying to free his feet. At the same time, the closest underkeeper guards stabbed at him with their spears, making sure to stay back and out of the dwarf¡¯s range. It would have worked with an ordinary dwarf. This one, though, wasn¡¯t ¨C he¡¯d obviously been enhanced somehow. Some of the attacks landed, slipping through gaps in his armor, but they didn¡¯t penetrate. He bled a little, and was clearly in pain, but it would take hours to kill him like this. Dayle had almost finished casting another spell when sulfurous fire shot out of the breach in the wall. The mage ducked, and Jori wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d managed to cast his spell or not. She rushed forward, cursing herself for waiting, only to find that the situation was still under control after all. The flaming projectile bent in the air, circling like water down a drain to strike the odd circle of symbols that Lin had painted on the ground earlier. The runes lit up, and the entire sludgy mass vaporized into fine black ash. So. Not something that would work twice. Dayle threw his shovel into the hole overhand, cursing loudly as it went spinning in at unnatural speed to strike whatever had cast the fire out at them. More flames gushed from the hole, but this wasn¡¯t a directed attack. Hot air blasted down the tunnel, and most of the guards took a step back, turning their faces away from the heat instinctively. The overly durable duergar stumbled forward a step, nearly falling on his face as the thorny vines holding him suddenly shriveled away. Hissing in rage and pain, a demon scrambled out of the hole behind the dwarf, barely taller than a gnome, but still a bit larger than Jori herself and with one wing torn clean off his frame, fire still gushing from the wound. Now. Jori decided. Now they needed her help. As Josie let out a disturbing, soul-withering scream next to her, Jori launched herself at the enemy imp. 2.25 An Unexpected Family Reunion Jori broke through the circle of incapacitated underkeepers and flung a handful of hellfire at the dwarf, who was still on the ground, emitting a sort of wheezing groan. The other mortals were all out of the fight for the moment as far as she could see, though she was sure that Josie herself would be right behind her. Without pausing to see what happened with the dwarf, she flung herself past the bulky duergar and at the imp, who had stopped for a second at Josie¡¯s scream, but like Jori herself didn¡¯t seem seriously affected otherwise. He turned his head this way and that, looking for the source. Jori barreled into him, claws first, and tore at his hide drawing gouts of blazing blood. She tried to ignore the imp''s screeching and power through the incandescent blood burning her hands and arms, but flinched away when it splashed onto her face, hissing with pain. Only then did she realize her mistake. She needed to buy time for the others to recover from Josie¡¯s scream and to deal with the duergar. But the air in the tunnel was getting hot. She couldn¡¯t afford to throw around a lot of hellfire, or for either herself or her opponent to get injured too much. It wouldn¡¯t take long before the mortals would start burning their lungs with every breath. She needed to stall. ¡°Stop, cousin!¡± she hissed, improvising. ¡°Why are you attacking us?¡± It didn¡¯t work. The imp ignored her, gathering fire in one hand and flung it toward one of the goblins. The guard had recovered enough to move and managed to roll away from the liquid flames, though a few droplets still spattered onto her armor. Suddenly much more lively, the goblin woman squeaked in surprise and slapped at the flames in panic. Thinking furiously, Jori tried something else. ¡°You¡¯re interfering with the Great One¡¯s plan!¡± she bluffed. ¡°He will devour you when you are returned home.¡± At that, the imp turned to her and squinted, backing up a step. ¡°What Great One?¡± he said, warily. His eyes widened suddenly. ¡°Wait. Dzhorianath?¡± Jori blinked. What? She stepped closer and examined the other demon¡¯s torn-up face and mottled coloring. Well. How about that? ¡°Gegrenoth!¡± she said, surprised. ¡°Where are the others? Are you all working with the duergar? What happened to everyone?¡± Behind her, Jori heard a gasp, followed by a pained moan. Josie had gone to work on the duergar by the sound of it. The other imp glanced behind Jori for a moment before narrowing his eyes and answering. ¡°We were bound by the fiend Tallash, who is bound by the whisperer Zijeregh, who is bound by the greater shade Nuros, favored servant of Varamemnon.¡± Gegrenoth said, with a nearly ritualistic cadence. ¡°Whom do you serve?¡± ¡°I have powerful patrons,¡± Jori said evasively. ¡°Their goals are secret, I don¡¯t know them. But I can help our pack. Get them out, maybe... It was Tallash, you said? I know some warlocks¡­¡± ¡°I am stronger than you, little one. I don¡¯t need your help.¡± The other imp scoffed at her. ¡°And our pack is shrinking. Soon it will be gone. The weak die together, and the strong grow alone, each their own way. You know that.¡± Jori did know that. But she didn¡¯t believe it. Not anymore. She bared her teeth at Gegrenoth, ready to spring at him again when his head disappeared with a blunt sound of impact, knocked clean off his shoulders. Fire fountained up in its place, reheating the air in the tunnel, which had just started to cool off to normal levels again. The body toppled over, and a few seconds later, the hellfire stopped gushing out of the body. Jori exhaled a breath in a sigh. Too bad. He would be restored in the flames of their home plane sometime tomorrow. What an ass. ¡°What''d you tell him?¡± Dayle asked, stepping up to nudge the demon¡¯s body with the toe of his boot. ¡°Pretty nice distraction, I reckon.¡± Jori nodded distractedly. ¡°Josie!¡± Dayle said, turning to the warlock somewhere behind Jori. ¡°Kustov told me what you could do, you know? But I didn¡¯t know it was like that. You could put half a company down on their asses without even trying! Did you ever consider enlisting? I know there ain''t a warlock corps or anything like that. But you know, maybe there really should be.¡± Jori looked back to find Josie shaking her head at the mage. ¡°Warlocks are officially banned from serving in any crown military force,¡± Josie said seriously. ¡°It¡¯s literally one of the oldest laws in the entire realm. Besides, I¡¯m a solicitor. The military can''t afford me.¡± Dayle put up his hands in mock surrender and moved off to join Lin, who was checking on the goblin that had been spattered with hellfire. Jori could see that one sleeve of the goblin¡¯s mail had partially melted. Depending on how well the gambeson underneath held up, she could imagine that she might have a day off with a healing potion ahead of her. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. All things considered, it had gone surprisingly well. No one had died, and it didn¡¯t look like anyone was seriously injured, even if a few of the underkeepers here looked like they might need a break and something strong to drink after being exposed to Josie¡¯s psychic attack. The warlock moved closer and bent down to check on Jori. ¡°Are you alright? I saw you get hit right in the face. Doesn¡¯t it hurt?¡± Jori grunted. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± She was in a sour mood. Her pack, the few remaining imps of the massive swarm that she¡¯d been born with, were attached to the enemy. Sure, Gegrenoth was doing just fine, but the others¡­ they were just like she had been. Small, mostly helpless and not smart enough to understand that they were probably just being kept as food for their fiend master, Tallash. ¡°I heard what you said, you know.¡± Josie said. She crouched down next to her and studied her face curiously. ¡°You want to help them, right?¡± Jori didn¡¯t answer, she just glared at Gegrenoth¡¯s unmoving form. ¡°Why?¡± the warlock asked. ¡°Why help smaller demons?¡± The little imp scratched her head, considering the question. Then she looked up to meet the woman¡¯s inquisitive eyes. ¡°Someone should.¡± Concentrating on the enticing sense of something she could feel over by the dead duergar, she drew the spiritual residues from the body as she turned away. ¡°Someone should care. Come on. We have to get back on patrol.¡± ¨C---------- Something felt different as Bernt stepped out onto the small plaza just outside the Undercity gate, heading to the Mages'' Guild after his shift. It was less oppressive. People were walking a bit more slowly than the day before, and a few small stands were open on the periphery, selling warm snacks and drinks to chilly passers-by in the crisp autumn air. And there was music. Bernt looked around, finally finding a young man tucked away in a corner with a three-stringed fiddle. He wasn¡¯t playing a specific song as far as he could tell. It was more like someone aimlessly practicing ¨C playing a bit of something, then switching to something entirely different on a whim. He was good though, very good. Bernt took a deep breath, feeling a weight that he hadn¡¯t realized he was carrying slide off of his chest. It felt nice. Great, even. Trying on a smile, he moved on, heading toward the Mages¡¯ Guild to work on his hellfire derivative. As he left the plaza and headed down the street, he wondered how serious the morale situation on the surface must be if the Count was paying the Bard¡¯s Guild to lift the spirits of the general populace. Was Elyn out there somewhere? Ahead, a small crowd had formed around a street preacher ¨C a young priest wearing white. He reminded Bernt of Torvald a little, at least until he heard him talk. ¡°¨Cdo not be led astray by promises of false defenders, guardians come from the hells themselves to save you... from what? Themselves? We must be vigilant against such deceptions. We must stand firm against the forces of evil and all those who traffic in their darkness.¡± A few people shouted in agreement, but others rolled their eyes and kept walking. Bernt did his best not to look too conspicuous as he skirted the group. ¡°Didn¡¯t see that guy get into a fire fight with some kind of flaming demon dwarf,¡± someone grumbled as he passed by. What was all this about? Bernt was back in the Lower District, just a few blocks from the Mages¡¯ Guild, actually, when he felt something watching him. Whipping his head around, Bernt scanned his surroundings. He checked the mouths of alleyways and the faces of the people passing by. An elderly dwarf who was walking right behind him cursed at him for stopping and glared as he stepped around him. He was being watched. It was almost like a physical thing, and he wasn¡¯t the only one who felt it. Everyone in this part of the street was rushing along, throwing glances this way and that. But there was nothing to see. Nobody and nothing was peering threateningly from a window or over a rooftop. Swallowing nervously, Bernt ducked his head and hurried along. Something had changed up here. That bard ¨C and probably others ¨C weren¡¯t just out here to lift the spirits of a population under siege. They were fighting something. Were these the silent watchers that the possessed duergar warlock had mentioned? Shivering, Bernt turned the corner and lengthened his stride, nearly breaking into a jog to get inside the walls of the massive guild structure. ¨C------- ¡°Sir, it¡¯s getting worse.¡± Josie said, handing her daily report to the head solicitor. ¡°I saw two shades on the way up today, and there are other things out there, messing with people in the streets. I¡¯m guessing watchers from the fifth hell and maybe a couple of questioners from the second.¡± Radast nodded. ¡°That fits with our other intelligence. I already advised the count to take countermeasures, and he has. We¡¯ll work on neutralizing at least some of them on our end. A few of the better exorcists from the Temple District are supposed to get involved as well, but Count Narald didn¡¯t sound sure that they would cooperate with one another. It¡¯s unclear how effective they¡¯ll be.¡± Josie grimaced. You could always trust the clergy to pick the most opportune moments to cripple themselves with pointless infighting. At least Torvald had seen the threat and done something, even if he was an obstinate moron. ¡°Our little demon was involved in the fighting today,¡± he said as he scanned the summary page of her report. ¡°Did you get the details?¡± She nodded. ¡°It¡¯s on the last page. I was there. We saved a few lives and Jori stopped another imp from most likely cooking half the guards and the mage.¡± Radast smiled with satisfaction. ¡°Good, good. That¡¯s perfect. I¡¯m going to get some ¡®eyewitnesses¡¯ out into the pubs with this. Maybe we can make a bit of a name for you, while we¡¯re at it.¡± He met her eyes and grinned ¨C a rare, genuine expression on a man who generally prided himself on his self control. ¡°Solicitor Josie, I believe you may end up breaking new ground for us. Keep this up and you¡¯ll be the first warlock celebrated as a hero in this city since before the fall of the Madurian Empire.¡± Josie inclined her head to her mentor. His praise meant a lot ¨C she knew that Radast wasn¡¯t the sort of person to offer it lightly. A lot of people thought of the man as little more than a sinister and arrogant charicature of a warlock ¨C he certainly played into it when it suited him. But he was more than that, too. A fiercely proud man with a worthy goal. It didn¡¯t hurt that with his help, she very well could become one of the most famous warlocks in Beseri history ¨C and perhaps the first one that wasn¡¯t framed as a villain. She smiled back and excused herself. She needed to be up early tomorrow ¨C she was scheduled to work on the interception team with Kustov and Bernt again an hour before dawn. 2.26 A Bad Day Bernt activated his thornskin amulet as something large and furry bowled into him, pinning him to the ground under its bulk. They hadn¡¯t made it to the breach in time, and now the enemy was in the tunnels. Kustov shouted something, but Bernt didn¡¯t understand him. He was distracted by the massive creature digging its claws into his chest. It didn¡¯t hurt very much, thanks to his protective charm, but he couldn¡¯t move. He squirmed, only realizing a second later that this was the exact kind of situation that he had an enchanted belt for. With an effort of will and a little poke of unshaped mana, he activated the infused leather. For a moment, he thought that nothing had happened. Something big and smelly was still pinning him down, and his bones still creaked under the pressure. Frustrated, he flexed and pushed up against it as hard as he could. With an odd, low squeak of surprise, the huge creature rose into the air and rolled off to the side, landing awkwardly on its flank. It didn¡¯t feel any lighter as he lifted it, but when he pushed, it had moved. His assailant was a gigantic mole, or something like it, with huge digging claws and a creepy, star-shaped nose. Not a demon as far as Bernt could tell ¨C just a regular animal, if unnaturally large. Behind it, though, he could hear the familiar sibilant and guttural tones of the duergar language as someone cursed. A shadow fell over Bernt, and he saw a spear sink deep into the creature¡¯s side as it scrabbled at nothing, followed by two more a moment later. There was a booming noise, followed by shouts and several smaller sounds of impact up ahead. Still a bit dazed, he looked up to find Nirlig, who was working on the interception team today, offering him a hand up. He took it and got to his feet. ¡°Dibs on the hide!¡± the goblin called with a grin before squeezing past the still-twitching body to join the fight beyond. Bernt blinked, shook his head and looked around for his staff. It lay several paces back, where it had flown when he was hit. He picked it up and followed. By the time he reached the real fight, it was already over. Kustov had dropped the ceiling down on the party of duergar adventurers, killing several and injuring the rest long enough for the other underkeepers to take them out. They hadn¡¯t come away unscathed, though. One of the dwarves had been some kind of marksman with a specialized weapon that fired small metal bolts at an insane rate and with incredible force. Two underkeepers were dead, three were seriously injured and Kustov himself had a bolt in his guts that had punched straight through his armored robe and skewered him. The entire confrontation had taken less than ten seconds, but it was still one of the worst breaches they¡¯d had since the start of hostilities. And all because they¡¯d thought to bring a mole. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how quickly the thing could dig, but it had to be extraordinarily fast if it could get around the army¡¯s lines and past their wards so quickly that they hadn¡¯t managed to reach the right spot in time to do something before they broke through. Josie, who hadn¡¯t managed to contribute anything more than Bernt to the fight, dug out one of her own standard-quality healing potions for Kustov. A minor potion would fix the damage, sure, but it would take at least a day, and it didn¡¯t completely eliminate the risk of infection with a gut wound. By the time they got back to headquarters, the stoneweaver was doing much better, though his mood had turned dour. They hadn¡¯t lost anyone since the first few days of the siege, and never under Kustov''s command. He went to give his report while the rest of the team settled down in the break room to lick their wounds. The place was mostly empty except for Torvald, who sat off to one side with Fiora. The older woman pointed at an open page in a book. ¡°I think you¡¯re taking this a bit too literally,¡± she explained as they began to pour into the room. ¡°Ruzinia doesn¡¯t require you to literally enjoy suffering or sacrificing yourself for others ¨C it¡¯s more about your general attitude or mindset. How do I put it?¡± She scratched at her graying hair and leaned back in her chair. ¡°I mean, her paladins are supposed to be the sort of people who are happy that they made it in time so that someone else didn¡¯t have to. It¡¯s not about the suffering, it¡¯s about saving people.¡± Bernt shook his head at the odd discussion. He hadn¡¯t realized that Fiora knew anything about theology. There was no reason that a mage couldn¡¯t be religious, he just hadn¡¯t really considered it. He looked around the room, trying to collect himself. It seemed wrong to just sit down and wait for the next incursion, but that was the assignment. He¡¯d barely known the two guards who died, but it felt wrong to just... go on with his day as usual. Was that really what they were supposed to do? Shaking his head to clear it, he headed over to the small kitchen to heat up some water. Somebody would be along soon to start distributing tea. It was something to do. He filled the stone teapot and turned to dig around for some of Lin¡¯s herbal tea mixture, only to find Josie holding it out next to him and leaning against the counter. She¡¯d followed him. They¡¯d grown a lot more comfortable with each other over the past month of working together, but he wouldn¡¯t go so far as to call her a friend. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± he asked, accepting the tea and casting a quick cantrip to boil the water. ¡°Do you think they¡¯re testing us?¡± She shook her head, staring over. ¡°I mean, do you think they¡¯re just testing our defenses to see what¡¯ll work to get through in a real assault? They¡¯ve been at it for weeks already.¡± Bernt shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°Yeah. I mean. That party today almost made it, and all because they had a giant mole. If they had a hundred of those, I don¡¯t know how we¡¯d stop them. We don''t have enough people to stop ten simultaneous breaches, never mind what that would cause. It would be a disaster.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Josie nodded. ¡°But how will they know? I mean, if nobody ever survives to tell them what worked, how can they know which strategies are the best?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the point, isn¡¯t it?¡± Bernt replied, counting in his head to make sure the tea steeped the right amount of time. ¡°As long as we keep killing all of the ones who get through the lines, they¡¯ll have to keep trying.¡± ¡°You''re not thinking it through.¡± Josie said. ¡°Did Jori tell you about the party we helped Dayle intercept yesterday? With the other imp?¡± Bernt nodded. He¡¯d heard about it, though Jori had been light on the details. She didn¡¯t seem in much of a mood to talk last night. ¡°Well, that imp is going to be able to report what it saw when it reforms back in the hells, won¡¯t it? It¡¯ll be able to tell them that they got through, and about Jori, me and Dayle ¨C probably Lin and Rindle, too.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Bernt said slowly. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not great. But that still only gives them useful information for parties that have demons in them, and only those that live long enough to see anything. We stop most of them before they even breach into the tunnels.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure about that,¡± she said quietly. ¡°It probably helps, but there are shades in this city, and other incorporeal demons. I¡¯ve seen a few on the surface, and I think it would be very optimistic to assume that they¡¯re not down here, too. They¡¯re almost certainly getting more information than anybody thinks.¡± "Did you tell Ed?" Bernt cursed as he realized the implications of what she''d just said. ¡°That¡¯s not something we can just ignore. If that¡¯s what they¡¯re doing, they actually might come tunneling in with a bunch of these mole things. Or some adaptation of everything they''ve tried so far, most likely. They know far more about us than we do about them.¡± Josie grimaced. ¡°That¡¯s what I was worried about. The solicitors are doing something about the demons, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯re cooperating with the city¡¯s defenders, and we¡¯re not prepared at all to handle a larger attack if they actually had a way to get past General Arice.¡± Bernt picked up the pot, and began pouring tea into cups. ¡°We¡¯ll take it to Ed at the end of our shift. I doubt he¡¯s going to take this lightly after what happened today.¡± ¨C------- ¡°How many have you seen, exactly?¡± Ed asked, sitting back in his chair. ¡°We know there are spies in the city ¨C Radast has been warning about them for some time, as well as the problem with the demons. So far, there haven¡¯t been any indications that they¡¯ve been able to learn very much about what happened to their incursion parties, though. It¡¯s one of the reasons we¡¯re so careful to wipe them out before they get into the tunnels.¡± ¡°Three in the past few days,¡± Josie said, shrugging. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean very much. Jori told me she¡¯s been sensing things out there as well. Incorporeal demons are sneaky. If they see me coming, they can just step through a wall or something ¨C my senses don¡¯t go through obstructions. For all I know, they drop down into the street. I imagine down here they could probably just conceal themselves in the tunnel walls. We¡¯d never see them.¡± Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°I think it could be a problem. The general is making a mistake, only fighting defensively, right? If he thinks the enemy isn¡¯t getting very much intelligence, he might just be hoping that they run out of low-ranked adventurers dumb enough to try these probing attacks.¡± ¡°Nah, that¡¯s not it,¡± Ed said. ¡°The general¡¯s been wanting to go on the offensive since all this started. My guess is that he got orders from the king, and he¡¯s been too worried about his reputation at court to take the initiative.¡± Bernt scowled. "That¡¯s crazy! Doesn¡¯t he know he¡¯s risking an entire city full of people?¡± Ed rolled his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t be dramatic. Attacking means risking an entire army of soldiers as well. And if he lost, the city would fall right afterward. Being a general isn¡¯t a simple job. He has to weigh the risks to everyone involved. The smart play in most sieges is just to hold out until help arrives.¡± ¡°And is help coming?¡± Josie asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard anything. The rumors say that Yetin¡¯s Harbor is being attacked as well, and nobody mentioned any relief forces anywhere.¡± Ed grimaced. ¡°No. There have been raids on all four major Beseri cities from below, though we¡¯re the only ones that have duergar knocking on our front gates, too. Teres also lost contact with the garrison at Rimehorn Pass last week, which leaves the kingdom¡¯s northeastern border exposed to invasion by the orcs. We¡¯re not at war with them, but they¡¯re not exactly famous for ignoring opportunities like that. Worse, none of the diviners saw anything leading up to the attacks, which sounds like they''ve been actively interfering with their work for quite a while now. They could just be trying to draw forces away from us here, or maybe they''re working with the orcs. Or, of course, the orcs just happened to independently think this year would be a fun time to test our borders. That would make it an entirely separate disaster ¨C there¡¯s just no way to tell. Whatever the case, nobody is coming to save us any time soon.¡± Bernt blinked, stunned at just how bad the situation really was. Josie just nodded, as if she¡¯d expected nothing less. ¡°I expect you to keep this quiet.¡± Ed added, eyeing them sternly. ¡°We don¡¯t need this getting out to the public. Beseri armies have faced and beaten more dangerous and more confounding opponents than this. I¡¯ll take my concerns to Count Narald and see if we can¡¯t get the general to adopt a more aggressive posture.¡± Scowling to himself pensively, he began stuffing his pipe. He heaved himself up and paced for a moment as he lit it and, as the room began to grow hazy, he turned back to them. ¡°Check to see if Kustov is still here before you go. I¡¯ve got a project for him to manage, and maybe Janus from the adventurers, if we can get a hold of him. A specialized abjurer would go a long way.¡± 2.27 A New Flame Pollock peered at the spellform over the top of his glasses, shuffling around the rune circle slowly as he examined it. ¡°Well. I don¡¯t know that it¡¯ll work quite yet. But it won¡¯t blow up in your face. That¡¯s a fairly good start. I think you have a talent for this sort of thing, one that you should cultivate, given the opportunity. Why don¡¯t you give it a try?¡± Bernt frowned. ¡°I haven¡¯t memorized it. I can¡¯t just cast it.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Pollock asked in a tone of surprise. ¡°You¡¯ve been staring at it for days. You built the spellform for it yourself!¡± Bernt shook his head. What the man was asking was unheard of. Insane, even. Nobody just tried out a spell they weren¡¯t sure about, and especially not something as dangerous as this. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± he refused again. ¡°If I try to cast it without making sure that I¡¯ve memorized it right, it really could blow up in my face.¡± ¡°Hmph.¡± Pollock grumped. ¡°You won¡¯t learn your limits if you don¡¯t push them, boy. You seem to have a bit of an intuitive understanding already ¨C learning to cast a spell like this shouldn¡¯t really be that hard for you.¡± With a flick of his wrist, the magister summoned fire over his open palm. Or, something that looked almost like fire ¨C this was something a bit different. The flame was a perfectly shaped teardrop of sullen orange light and it hung in the air without even the slightest flicker. ¡°Ahh.¡± he sighed. ¡°Very nice.¡± He extinguished the flame with a thought and dropped the hand. ¡°Dangerous to cast, though, and still not perfect. You should try to weaken the spell a bit, and do whatever you can to improve the stability of the flame even more.¡± Bernt gaped at the old man. Unless he¡¯d been coming in here to study Bernt¡¯s work while he was gone, Pollock had just memorized his entire spellform in minutes. ¡°Alright,¡± Bernt said numbly, still trying to process what he¡¯d just seen. He was impatient to be done, but he knew he wouldn¡¯t get a second chance if it didn¡¯t work properly. He needed to get this right. As the master pyromancer turned to leave, Bernt called after him. ¡°Magister, can you get me access to the perpetual flame as well, for my investiture? That way we could do it right away, when I finish, I mean.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Pollock laughed. ¡°But what happened to taking the time to learn the spell?¡± *** Jori inhaled sharply, covertly drawing in the soul residues out of the duergar corpses as she sat on the rim of the cart. Body removal had become one of the many jobs that Underkeepers handled in the new Undercity, which was fair considering the number of corpses they¡¯d been making lately. Initially, Kustov had simply entombed the dead in the stone wherever they died, but someone decided that a centralized disposal site would be safer, more sanitary and generally more civilized. Probably Fiora. Jori liked Fiora. The woman was smart, practical, and she¡¯d supplied her with all of these wonderful snacks! These little tiny bits of souls didn¡¯t really do much for her at this stage¨C it was more like scraping a bit of sauce out of an empty bowl than having a proper meal ¨C but it was still tasty and a lot better than nothing. It was almost the perfect job. Of course, she wasn¡¯t strictly assigned to it. She¡¯d volunteered both herself and her interns for the duty, but Palina wouldn¡¯t hear of it, even though Gnugg had experience! But she still managed to help out most days ¨C just as long as she managed to get put on a patrol. Then she could just take her lunch break near the disposal site, usually in time to sneak in or intercept the disposal crew directly as they came in. It was a large chamber located down a hidden ramp off of the Undercity Market. Every time new bodies were deposited, one of the mages would enclose them in stone, keeping the entire thing relatively clean. Today, though, she¡¯d caught the cart as it rolled past the market square. ¡°Jori!¡± Nirlig called, ¡°Come on, I got your favorite!¡± Jumping off the cart, Jori scampered back toward the market, where Nirlig held out a small bag that smelled earthy and spicy ¨C spiced mushroom wraps. She snatched it, grinning up at him. ¡°Thanks!¡± They weren¡¯t Cal¡¯s spiced cabbage rolls, but they were pretty good. Digging around in her pockets, she dug out six small copper coins and held them out to the goblin. ¡°Here¡¯s your money.¡± Nirlig blinked in surprise. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, it¡¯s just a bit of copper.¡± ¡°Take it.¡± Jori insisted. ¡°Your mom says that you spend too much money on other people! ¡®How will he ever meet a nice girl and support a family if he spends all his money on random strangers?¡¯ she said. "It¡¯s for your own good!¡± Nirlig groaned. ¡°Please, Jori, not you, too. When did you meet my mother?¡± ¡°I wanted to find out where your aunt Striga gets her fire gin,¡± Jori explained. ¡°So I went and knocked on your door and met your mom. She¡¯s very nice. Anyway, I asked her, and she took me over to your aunt¡¯s house and introduced me. You didn¡¯t tell me Striga makes it herself! I¡¯m paying her to make me some more. What? What¡¯s the matter?¡± The goblin had his head in his hands now. ¡°Oh no, that explains everything!¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°What?¡± Jori asked again. ¡°Hellfire Gin! Aunt Striga renamed it, and she sent my cousin out to try to find a pound of juniper berries at the market two days ago. She went on about opening a stand at the Undercity Market with the stuff. She¡¯s trying to profit from your notoriety.¡± Jori frowned as she dug into the bag. Striga had renamed the gin for her? She perked up. ¡°I¡¯m famous?¡± Nirlig snorted. ¡°Are you kidding? There are stories and rumors running wild about you all over the city ¨C well, the pubs, mostly. It started after you fought that duergar warlock up on the surface for everyone to see. I think you made an impression. The rumors aren¡¯t very accurate, though. A lot of them think you¡¯re bigger than a human and that you breathe fire out of your mouth like a dragon.¡± That¡­ that sounded amazing. Could she learn to breathe fire out of her mouth? It was a little sad that she couldn¡¯t really live up the hype. But this was good, right? It meant people liked her! ¡°I¡¯m famous!¡± Jori cheered past a bite of her mushroom wrap. *** Bernt listened with some trepidation as Jori bragged about her newfound fame to the other underkeepers. Their shift was over, but they were still sitting in the break room, catching up with the others. Bernt wanted to go. He needed to get up to the Mages¡¯ Guild to try to finish his spellform, he''d been so close last night, but this seemed too important to ignore. ¡°Sure, yeah. I heard about that,¡± laughed Dayle. ¡°There was a fellow deep in his cups at the Horse¡¯s Head, he was ready to swear you were a succubus trying to save the city from a rival demon so you could steal the uh¡­ hearts of its men or some such nonsense.¡± Jori had started asking the others about all the rumors. She thought they were delightful, though more than a few of them were wildly inaccurate. A few seemed to confuse her for Josie, and some implied that she either worked for the solicitors or had defected from the duergar. Just two made mention of someone that might have been him. It reminded Bernt of the street preacher he¡¯d heard the other day. The man had almost certainly been railing against Jori, and by extension the Underkeepers and probably the Solicitors as well. Of course, he¡¯d known for some time that Radast was planning to use Jori in some way to try to rehabilitate the image of warlocks, or maybe just the Solicitors in the city. This was the first real evidence he¡¯d heard of Jori¡¯s growing reputation, though. All in all, he would have hoped that someone like Radast would be able to craft a better narrative, or at least one that was more consistent. ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to worry your head about it.¡± Dayle went on, though Jori didn¡¯t seem worried in the least. ¡°All this fighting¡¯ll be over soon, and things will go back to like they usually are, mostly. Rumors die just as quick as they come.¡± Jori cocked her head and Bernt felt uncertainly leak through their bond. ¡°What do you mean? Why?¡± ¡°I hear the good general¡¯s going to take the fight to the duergar, finally. They¡¯ve had Iriala scrying the enemy for weeks ¨C her and her whole team, I hear. They¡¯re pretty sure now that they can¡¯t take us direct-like at all. That might be why they ain¡¯t attacked us to our faces this whole time, like respectable folks would.¡± Bernt looked over and met Kustov¡¯s equally surprised gaze. ¡°When did you hear about this?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°Are they going soon?¡± ¡°I was bringing my reports by Ed¡¯s office when he got the news a few minutes ago. No idea when it¡¯s happening.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Ain¡¯t an officer, am I? Probably soon though ¨C couple of days, probably.¡± A couple of days¡­ Bernt got up. Things were about to escalate, one way or another. Sure, if everything went perfectly, he¡¯d be sitting around drinking tea while the army handled everything. But¡­ when had anything ever gone perfectly? No, Josie had been right. There were spies in this city, invisible and immortal spies. And that meant they had to assume that the enemy knew whatever they knew. Anything less was just asking to be outmaneuvered. The Duergar had already come close to burning down the Paladins¡¯ Hall once. It revealed a little bit of how they thought. If they had good intelligence and knew that the general was making his move, they would want to take out the other major threats in the city ¨C the places where the city¡¯s most dangerous people worked. That meant the palace, the guilds, the Solicitors¡¯ Office and the Paladins¡¯ Hall. The Mages¡¯ Guild was, in his estimation, the most obvious target ¨C they were responsible for maintaining the city¡¯s defensive wards. Bernt couldn¡¯t do anything about that, and smarter and more powerful people than him were working on it anyway, but he had to at least look after his own interests. If the guild suffered an attack, he might lose access to the perpetual flame and all the work he¡¯d been doing on his hellfire derivative. The clock was ticking. He needed to repair his mana network, and quickly. It was time. ¨C--------- Magister Pollock examined Bernt¡¯s spellform once again, moving around it to look at it from several different angles, nodding every few seconds as he found and checked off whatever he was looking for. Bernt couldn¡¯t quite tell exactly what the man was looking for, even though he¡¯d built the spell himself. He didn¡¯t really understand the purpose of every rune and symbol in the spellform, never mind every single bend and loop. He just used what he did know to identify the purpose of different segments of the spell and reconfigured the parts he identified as relevant in the ways he thought made the most sense to get the result he wanted. The problem was that each adjustment he made changed the overall shape of the spellform, which forced him to make a cascade of other adjustments to ensure that everything still worked the way it was supposed to in the first place. It had taken a long time, but he was pretty sure that this time, he¡¯d finally done it. The elderly Pyromancer nodded one final time and looked up. ¡°It¡¯s good enough, I think. Can you cast it?¡± Bernt shifted awkwardly. ¡°I was hoping you would,¡± he said. "You were, were you?¡± Pollock snorted. ¡°No, no. It¡¯s your spell. Show me!¡± Hesitantly, Bernt shaped the spellform. It helped that he had the pattern right there in front of him, but it still took him most of a minute before he felt sure enough to activate the spell. A red candle flame hovered over his open palm, just a few finger widths tall. It gave off a gentle heat that he could feel on his skin, and it burned so steadily that it looked more like a frozen teardrop of light than actual fire. ¡°It¡¯s still not perfect, really.¡± Pollock said, looking at it. ¡°But it¡¯s good! It¡¯s plenty good enough to get the job done. Your last attempt might have even been enough, but it¡¯s better to play it safe. Always remember to aim for perfection, but don¡¯t bother getting all the way there. It¡¯s too much work.¡± Bernt tried not to show his excitement, but he couldn¡¯t quite hide his grin. ¡°Does that mean we can get started? Where¡¯s the perpetual flame? Can we propagate it now?¡± Pollock grinned and flicked a finger over toward another of the rune circles in the room. A tiny pinpoint of white fire shot from the tip of his finger, growing to perhaps the size of a grape by the time it hit the rune circle and unraveled into a spellform. Bernt stared at it uncomprehendingly for a second, then turned back to Pollock, staring dumbly in open-mouthed shock. ¡°You can conjure it?¡± 2.28 Playing With Fire Bernt watched as a glowing thread of his spirit slowly wormed its way out of his open palm in a loop, curling a little as it emerged. Carefully, he tried to push more of the damaged channel out, but it didn¡¯t work quite as well as it had the first time he¡¯d done it. Instead of going where he pushed the mana inside, it bent awkwardly and wavered in the air. Once the bit of thread was under the influence of the rune circle, however, things got easier. It was designed for manipulating the spirit, after all. With a simple effort of mana-manipulation, he extended his spirit out further, effectively lifting out the entire portion of his mana network that ran through his right arm. It didn¡¯t look visibly damaged to him like this, but he knew better. Without wasting more time, he split the looping thread of spirit at his shoulder and manipulated the now loose end through the spellform hovering in front of him. The process was tedious and difficult, but not especially risky at this stage. Pollock wandered off to his office as Bernt worked, and shuffled back into the laboratory a few minutes later sipping on a cup of hot coffee. ¡°How¡¯s that coming? Almost done?¡± Bernt gritted his teeth, nearly losing his concentration. He answered with a carefully polite tone. ¡°Yes, Magister, almost. If you¡¯d just give me a few more minutes.¡± ¡°Hrmpf,¡± the old man grumped and sat down in a chair to watch. A few minutes later, Bernt let out a slow breath. ¡°Alright, I think that¡¯s it. Do you mind taking a look for me, please?¡± Pollock rose unsteadily from his chair and shuffled around the rune circle just as he had with Bernt¡¯s hellfire derivative, checking it from different angles. ¡°I can see a bit of your spirit poking out of the spellform right over here.¡± He pointed. ¡°Just pull that loop in a bit tighter¡­ yes, like that. Now, let me check to make sure you didn¡¯t just mess something else up with that maneuver.¡± It took a few more minor corrections, but the old man finally nodded a few minutes later. ¡°Good.¡± He rubbed his hands together, eyes practically glowing with sudden excitement. ¡°Now for the good part.¡± He held out his gnarled hand and conjured Bernt¡¯s little red candle flame over it. ¡°Alright. Now, we¡¯re going to break the rune circle and collapse the spellform onto your mana network. You¡¯ll need to make sure you keep your mana still. You don¡¯t want to absorb away any of the perpetual flame¡¯s substance at this stage. I¡¯m going to run your new modified hellfire along the entirety of your new investiture, just to ensure we get all of the malformed areas. Then, when I give you the go-ahead, you¡¯re going to run mana through those eroded channels very gently to essentially regrow that damaged thread along our defined pathway.¡± Bernt took a breath and nodded. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡± ¡°Alright, then go ahead and break the circle.¡± Without looking, Bernt scraped his foot forward along the ground and covered one of the runes. Instantly, the spellform collapsed, trying to reform into a flame, but it was held back by Bernt¡¯s spirit. Instead of running mana through the thread to absorb the material, though, he waited for the mana that made up the spell to settle around his spirit. Pollock leaned forward and, with surprisingly smooth and quick motions, ran the flame along the thread, starting at the spot where Bernt had begun to feed it into the spellform. Bernt didn¡¯t feel any pain and that surprised him. Shouldn''t it feel at least as bad as when he''d damaged his spirit in the first place? At first, he thought that maybe it wasn¡¯t working, but he could actually see the thread inside the spellform get thinner and dimmer as the old man worked. All the while, it felt like the spellform was growing heavier, pushing down harder on his spirit. It made sense. As the thread of his spirit thinned, it would be less able to resist the spell that he was trying to absorb, and he would have to concentrate harder to prevent the investiture from losing its shape. With this in mind, Bernt focused as best he could on maintaining the shape of the spellform, rather than trying to keep track of the old man. It was a surprise then, when, just a minute or so later, Pollock clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Alright, run some mana through there. Go on.¡± Carefully, Bernt complied, sending a trickle of mana through his spirit to start and then slowly increasing the flow. It felt a little odd at first, but it worked. The mana that made up the perpetual flame¡¯s spellform thinned and disappeared, drawn into the mana flowing through his new investiture. Was that it? Was he done? ¡°Odd coloring,¡± Pollock commented, ¡°but it looks to me like it worked. Settle it into your spirit and try it out!¡± Bernt relaxed, letting the spellform fold in on itself as the entire thing settled into his arm and shoulder. Mana flowed through it normally, which at least meant he hadn¡¯t hurt himself with this experiment. It also felt oddly warm. Hot, even. He gasped as the sensation intensified, then groaned and looked down at his arm. He could see light emanating from under his skin. And it burned. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Panicking, Bernt screamed and danced back as if to escape the heat, but of course that didn¡¯t work ¨C it was inside him. And the pain just kept getting worse. *** Bernt¡¯s head pounded in time with his heartbeat. He tried to open his eyes, but a bright glare forced him to shut them again immediately. He groaned and tried to block the source of the light with his hands. Pins and needles prickled down his arm as he moved it. ¡°Ugh. What happened?¡± he said, trying to get a look at his surroundings. His vision swam at first, and it still hurt to look, but he realized after a moment that the light wasn¡¯t actually that bright, his eyes were just oversensitive. ¡°You experimented around with the investment process,¡° Iriala¡¯s voice answered, audibly irritated. ¡°So, no way to really tell, yet. You might have crippled yourself for all we know. How did you even get your hands on the perpetual flame without my authorization?¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so dramatic,¡° Pollock answered. ¡°I conjured it for him. Besides, his mana flow looks normal and the channels on the new investiture are completely healthy. It worked! I asked you here to share the results, not to cluck over some minor side-effects.¡± ¡°Minor?! Are we looking at the same arm?¡± Iriala hissed, angry now. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen this before, ever! Have you?¡± Unsteadily Bernt focused on the offending limb, trying to make sense of what he saw there. The coloring was wrong, somehow. As his vision grew clearer, he realized that the colors were actually light that emanated out from under his skin in strange patterns, disappearing at some points only to reappear an inch away in different shades of orange and red. He turned his arm to see the other side and finally realized what he was looking at. His investiture was glowing. What did that mean? Unruffled at the archmage¡¯s outburst, the old man chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s called innovation, Iriala. Bernt here has invented something new. It might help hundreds of burnt out mages who are unresponsive to alchemical treatment ¨C especially if we can iron out these side-effects. He¡¯ll be the youngest wizard to make such a contribution in a generation!¡± ¡°Only because you pushed him,¡± Iriala said, sounding tired now. ¡°You better hope it¡¯s not as bad as it looks. Ed is very protective of the boy, you know.¡± Pollock snorted. ¡°I¡¯m too old to be intimidated by overblown bruisers like him.¡± Bernt sat up, realizing that he¡¯d been lying on the floor of the lab on what looked like a small pile of old clothes. He cleared his throat and waved his arm between the two other mages, prompting both to break off their discussion and look his way. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Why is my mana network glowing like that in my arm?¡± Iriala frowned at him severely. ¡°Don¡¯t you think you should know the answer to that? You did this to yourself! I expected you to take the old man¡¯s guidance with a grain of salt, not¡­ this." The old man cleared his throat. ¡°Well. By the looks of it, I would guess that your new investiture manifested itself into your flesh physically. Like when you activate a spell, except that it¡¯s not a spell ¨C it¡¯s a part of your spirit.¡± Bernt had no idea what that meant, but it didn¡¯t sound great. ¡°And what does that mean?¡± Magister Pollock shrugged. ¡°Well, it sounds a lot like how the mana networks of sorcerers are described. I¡¯ve never seen one in person, mind you ¨C human sorcerers are exceedingly rare, since their access to magic is usually something biological, inherited through their blood. I have a book somewhere¡­ for now, it¡¯s probably best if you just try it out as you would any new investiture. There¡¯s no point in guessing when you can experiment. I can tell you that it should work just fine for casting spells. If you can channel mana, you can cast spells. And your mana seems to be flowing fine, right?¡± Bernt concentrated on the flow for a moment, and nodded. ¡°It feels normal.¡± Pollock raised both his hands in a ¡°there you go¡± gesture. At the old man¡¯s enthusiasm, Bernt felt a little of his own excitement return. The investment process had worked, even if it wasn¡¯t exactly as they¡¯d predicted. It was time to see what his efforts had bought him. Concentrating, Bernt sketched a rune into the air with his right hand, visualizing the rest of the spellform for the basic cantrip around it out in front of him. As he activated the torch spell, he felt an odd pressure run through his arm, then fire erupted from his palm, rolling itself into a liquid ball of flame. Bernt yelped and backed up a step, realizing only after he moved that the flames hadn¡¯t burned him. The two other mages looked from the spell, which was obediently hovering in the air, to him. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Pollock asked, turning back to the spell with a frown. ¡°Looks normal to me, though the light show wasn¡¯t really necessary. We can all play with fire, you know.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to do that,¡± Bernt said, still a little shaken. ¡°I cast it to appear overhead, next to your light, not in my hand. That¡¯s crazy!¡± ¡°Ah.¡± The old man frowned. ¡°Hmm. Well. I suppose perhaps the investiture prematurely activates your spells? Not really too much of an adjustment, as long as you¡¯re careful not to burn yourself. An annoyance, more than an inconvenience, really.¡± Iriala scoffed, turning away. ¡°It¡¯s too godsdamned late for all this nonsense.¡± She turned to leave, cursing under her breath. ¡°Wizards!¡± The door slammed shut behind her. When she was gone, Bernt sighed and turned to Pollock. ¡°How bad is it, really?¡± The old man shrugged. ¡°I told you there were risks ¨C you¡¯re breaking new ground here. Don¡¯t worry about the downsides so much. Just think how concerned the first person to successfully form an investiture must have been, suddenly finding that all their spells came out wrong!¡± Bernt tried to smile, but it didn¡¯t come out right. ¡°I don¡¯t think I just reinvented the investiture with this,¡° he said, watching his torch spell dubiously. It''s color was oddly white, and he could feel it slowly draw mana from the air around it. ¡°How do you know?¡± Pollock asked, raising both bushy white eyebrows for emphasis. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you have there yet. You should treat it as a potential opportunity first. There¡¯s always time to be upset about unwelcome side effects later.¡± 2.29 Experiments ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s normal.¡± Jori said, staring at Bernt¡¯s arm. She was squatting on Bernt¡¯s table, the result of one of his most recent stone shaping exercises. It was mostly round and level, which made it a great success as far as Bernt was concerned, even if the supporting legs weren¡¯t all the same thickness yet. He could work on it later, maybe. The imp poked a finger at his arm and leaned back, as if expecting it to burst into flame. Nothing happened. Bernt frowned. ¡°It¡¯s fine, I think. It just activated my torch spell oddly.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Jori grumbled. ¡°It looks more like when I¡¯m making fire. See? She held up her clawed hand and hellfire pooled in her palm, radiating heat into the room. As she summoned the flames, red streaks glowed dimly underneath her dusky gray skin, following some kind of complex pattern, different from his own. It did bear a striking resemblance to his own arm, though. Bernt frowned. ¡°That¡¯s odd¡­¡± It wasn¡¯t quite the same either, though. Hers was only visible while she was casting. ¡°What does that mean?¡± Bernt asked, confused. ¡±Jori, are you a type of sorcerer? Do you know how your magic works?¡± Jori shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s easy. I just let it go. It¡¯s like moving my hand, or looking with my eyes. What¡¯s a sorcerer?¡± Bernt knew that Jori''s fire was inherent to her. It was tied to what she was¨C not something he could learn. But¡­ well, if Pollock was right, then maybe there was some kind of overlap here. He¡¯d never really thought of it as sorcery, but it made sense. The problem was that he didn¡¯t really know much about it. It was considered a cruder, more primeval form of magic, used mostly by monstrous races with magic in their blood ¨C dragons, kobolds, satyrs, changelings and things like that. As such, it was barely addressed at the Mages¡¯ Academy. Why teach something that students couldn''t use? The only non-monstrous race Bernt knew of who were known to have sorcerers were the elves, but they were even more extreme than the guilds when it came to hoarding secrets. Their entire culture viewed human mages with contempt for reasons that Bernt didn¡¯t really understand. But that didn¡¯t mean he was out of luck. Bernt was a guild member now. He could ask the guild librarian ¨C just because the academy didn¡¯t teach it, didn¡¯t mean the guild didn¡¯t have information on sorcery. Pollock himself had at least one text that talked about it. He¡¯d have to go and borrow it from the old man as soon as he could. Right now, he would just have to experiment and learn as much as he could on his own. He rummaged around in his bag, pulled out a bit of chalk, and drew a familiar rune circle on the ground. Then he cast the same spell one more time, holding his right hand directly over the circle. Once again, the spell activated prematurely, pouring fire out of his palm that organized itself into this new version of his torch spell before unraveling into a spell form over the rune circle. Something was different here ¨C wrong. The spellform in front of him and the one he¡¯d been trying to cast were very different. Most strikingly, the perpetual flame was there in its entirety. The torch spell was woven into it, modifying its shape and power to shed more light, consume less mana and hover in the air. Bernt felt a queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach. What did that mean for his other spells ¨C ones that weren¡¯t so simple or so readily compatible with this new investiture? ¡°What if using the hellfire turned your arm into a demon arm?!¡± Jori speculated, going off on a completely different line of thought. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re part immortal!¡± Bernt shook his head distractedly. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what happened, Jori. Let me try something.¡± He needed to see what happened if he tried to cast something else. Something that wasn¡¯t as naturally compatible with his investiture¡¯s spellform. Focusing on one of the wonky table legs, Bernt reached in front of himself and sketched out a simple rune, visualizing the spellform for a spell he¡¯d been getting a lot of practice in lately: his earth shaping cantrip. Bernt¡¯s arm warmed uncomfortably, but it didn¡¯t work. He could sense that mana was being channeled out of his right hand, but nothing manifested. It dispersed into the air and the earth beneath him, merging with the power that naturally saturated the world all around. Sweat broke out on his forehead. ¡°Uh. Jori. It didn¡¯t work. The spell failed.¡± Jori shrugged. ¡°Are you casting it right?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Bernt threw up his hands in frustration, but aborted the motion halfway through. Was he? He turned back to Jori, thinking aloud. ¡°No, you¡¯re right. The spells are coming out wrong because the entire investiture activates as a spell as soon as I try to channel mana out through my hand. So¡­ maybe Josie was on to something ¨C I shouldn¡¯t be using that hand for it. Should have been obvious, I¡¯m too distracted by all this.¡± Ed had also mentioned something back when he got his first investiture a couple of months ago. That, eventually, he¡¯d have to consider where in his network he drew his mana from ¨C the exit point. He doubted the old archmage had anything like this situation in mind, but it was worth trying, at least. Bernt focused on his mana flow as he tried again. It circulated through the network normally, but this time, he stretched out his left hand, awkwardly sketching out the same central rune for the earth shaping cantrip. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The spellform took shape, clear to his senses. The perpetual flame wasn¡¯t there. In fact, the spellform was exactly as it had been the day before, as if he only had his first investiture. Experimentally, Bernt cleared out the effect of the burning rain and activated it. He felt the spell take hold of the stone, and let out a sigh of relief as he reached into the material of the table leg to remold it, thinning it down a bit and transferring the excess material down into the floor. It was difficult work ¨C Bernt was never very good at stone shaping, but he¡¯d been getting a lot better. That didn¡¯t make it easy. In fact, it was straining his concentration. He released the spell, considering. He¡¯d need to test his other spells and find out which he could cast from his right hand, and what their spellforms looked like. It was going to be a long night. ¡°Do you think I could make my other hand do magic, too?¡± Jori said, holding up her left hand in front of her face as she examined it thoughtfully. ¡°I wonder what it would take to grow that much.¡± Bernt suppressed the sudden alarm he felt ¨C she would be able to feel it through the bond. ¡°It would take souls, Jori, lots of souls. Besides, you can¡¯t afford to evolve any further ¨C not any time soon, alright? I know the Solicitors don¡¯t seem very threatening anymore, and Ed has been friendly, but they were very clear. They won¡¯t let you stay if you evolve again.¡± Jori sighed grumpily. ¡°You get to grow. It¡¯s not fair! Even Gegrenoth is more powerful than me. I can¡¯t save anyone like this.¡± Bernt blinked at her. What was she talking about? Jori was the one who would be in danger if she wasn¡¯t careful. ¡°Who do you want to save?¡± he asked. The imp didn¡¯t answer, but he felt a gnawing sense of anger and fear radiate off of her. She curled into a ball next to the hearth, shut her eyes, and pretended to sleep. Sighing to himself, Bernt stretched out his right hand and cast a fire dart over his rune circle. The thumb-thick ball of liquid flame unraveled, and he bent to examine it. *** The next morning, Bernt went to work early in hopes of finding Ed before his shift on patrol started. He needed someone more experienced to talk to about this. Someone practical and knowledgeable. When he got to Ed¡¯s office, though, he found it empty. Frustrated, Bernt turned back to check the break room and almost ran into Dayle. ¡°Whoa there, what¡¯s got you up in such a hurry?¡± The older underkeeper laughed genially. When he saw Bernt¡¯s expression, his laugh died. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Bernt ran a hand over his face. What did he look like? He hadn¡¯t slept much. ¡°I got my second investiture last night¡­ It didn¡¯t really turn out well, I don¡¯t think. Do you have a minute?¡± Bernt caught Dayle up as they wandered back to the break room, rolling up the sleeve on his right arm to show him the glowing veins of his investiture. A few people were already there, drinking various hot beverages and exchanging gossip before shift change and watching the ward map that Kustov had installed there with the help of one of the military''s abjurers to track incursions. Josie was sitting off to one side with Nirlig, and Jori and paused in her conversation to peer curiously at Bernt¡¯s exposed arm as they sat down. He gave her a quick wave and turned back to Dayle. ¡°As far as I can tell, I can only cast pyromancy spells through the new investiture. They also activate as I¡¯m casting, so I can¡¯t modify the spellform. That¡¯s especially bad because the spells all come out wrong. The spellform for the perpetual flame is always there in its entirety, it doesn¡¯t just integrate a few compatible properties like it should. So, all of my fire spells are really just modified perpetual flame spells.¡± Dayle frowned, scratching at the stubble on his chin in thought. ¡°That¡¯s annoying. You''ll need to be careful, conjuring something like that. Perpetual flames are dangerous, you know? Even those Illurian types are pretty choosy about which bits they leave in their spells. You don''t go casting it at any mages, you hear? Not any you''re not happy to have on your conscience, that is. What about everything else?¡± Bernt wasn''t entirely sure what to make of that, but he nodded. ¡°I can cast almost normally if I channel through my other hand to make the spellform. But it¡¯s as if I didn¡¯t have the second investiture at all. Worse, actually. As far as I can tell, the spells are weaker. I can¡¯t channel mana from that part of the network for regular spells anymore. It¡¯s as if I were missing the arm entirely.¡± Dayle winced. ¡°That''s a real pickle. If the investiture didn¡¯t integrate right with your mana network, then how¡¯re you gonna fuse it into a nice, clean augmentation at the end?¡± Bernt frowned. ¡°Yeah. But right now I¡¯m worried about just casting spells properly at all. We have a job to do here, but I don¡¯t know if I can fight like this.¡± Dayle waggled his hand in a so-so gesture. ¡°You''ll get used to it. I mean, perpetual flames can do some incredible damage, if you''re throwing them at the right targets. They can burn ambient mana, not just yours, so they don''t go out on their own ¨C you have to cancel the spell. You can do pretty horrible things to enemy mages or anyone wearing enchanted armor, too, because it''ll feed on their mana. Won''t do more than a normal bit of fire to a regular person, though. Still, I''d practice your fire-controlling cantrip with your other hand if I was you first, just in case. Don¡¯t want any surprises when it comes time to put the fire out again.¡± ¡°Can you cast the spell by itself?¡± Josie¡¯s voice asked from just behind him. Bernt jumped in his seat and turned to find the warlock standing there, eyes glued to his now oddly veined hand. ¡°Which spell?¡± he asked. ¡°The one in your arm, obviously. Jori said it looks kind of like hers. You can feel it in there, right? It stands to reason that you¡¯d be able to cast it the same way.¡± Bernt squinted at her skeptically, but then held out his hand and pushed a small amount of mana out, unformed. It pooled there as liquid white plasma that gave off a tiny, white flame. He could feel it pulling on the mana all around, growing slowly as it flickered there. It looked different than Pollock''s version and he realized that the mana hadn''t just shaped itself according to his new investiture. Once formed, the spell had also incorporated elements of his burning rain investiture to give it this liquid aspect. With a thought, he extinguished it again, canceling the effect. It was an interesting application of his new channels ¨C casting it instantly like that ¨C but it was a small consolation. ¡°That¡¯s good, right?¡± Josie asked. ¡°You can do a lot with something like that, and you can modify it however you want. That¡¯s a lot better than what I can do. Think of all the possibilities!¡± Bernt blinked at her, wrong-footed a bit by her enthusiasm. Was she trying to cheer him up? ¡°Yeah. I guess there are some possibilities,¡± he allowed. ¡°I¡¯ll experiment around with it some more tonight.¡± He managed a small smile, though he didn¡¯t really feel it. ¡°Magister Pollock told me he¡¯d help me develop myself further as well. He thinks I¡¯m going to be a real wizard.¡± Dayle nodded encouragingly, though Bernt could see the worry in his eyes. ¡°Sure, yeah. Old Pollock¡¯s probably the most powerful pyromancer I¡¯ve ever heard of, and he barely got past his first augmentation. Four investitures I think, maybe five.¡± Bernt stood up, swallowing down his worries. Even someone like Pollock had stalled eventually, and Bernt couldn''t imagine the old man had done anything this drastic on his second investiture. ¡°Right. Enough gloating about my inevitable rise to greatness, I¡¯ve got patrol duty to get to.¡± 2.30 Light Reading Bernt felt worn out as he climbed the steps in the Mages¡¯ Guild toward Pollock¡¯s office. The day had been uneventful ¨C he¡¯d had a light assignment on patrol in the Crafting Quarter with Torvald. There was a pickpocket in the morning and a vandalism incident in the afternoon, but Torvald handled both before Bernt could even get involved. No, his exhaustion was in his mind. But knowing the nature of the problem didn¡¯t make it any easier to deal with. He¡¯d solved one problem by creating another. One that was already proving to be annoyingly tricky to deal with, and that he might not be able to fully overcome. Taking a deep breath, Bernt tried to summon the sense of excitement he¡¯d had developing his new hellfire derivative. He¡¯d done it, after all. He was a wizard, and Pollock thought he was looking at an opportunity here, something new. With¡­ well, not exactly a spring in his step, but slightly more energy than before, Bernt opened the door to the Wizard¡¯s Society and entered. As he made his way toward Pollock¡¯s office, he noticed for the first time that there were other people here. One of the other offices was occupied today by at least three people who were excitedly talking over one another. How many wizards were there in the guild here, anyway? Dismissing the thought, Bernt knocked on Magister Pollock¡¯s office door and entered at the man¡¯s call. He found him sitting in an overstuffed armchair in one corner of the room, books piled awkwardly one on top of another on his lap, all of them open. ¡°Ah! The young wizard!¡± Pollock said cheerfully. ¡°So, what did you learn?¡± Bernt swallowed hard. ¡°I can cast only pyromancy spells through the investiture, and they don¡¯t form correctly. They sort of weave themselves around the complete spellform for the perpetual flame. I can¡¯t modify them as I¡¯m casting, either, because the spell activates as it forms. I have to visualize the spellform completely before I even start moving mana. I don''t think I would have figured it out if I hadn''t started with a cantrip.¡± Pulling up a much more modestly proportioned chair from next to the desk, Bernt took a seat and explained what he¡¯d learned so far. Pollock nodded along, asking for clarification here and there, but he generally appeared content to listen. When Bernt was done, the old man smiled, eyes glittering. ¡°Well, that all sounds quite promising to me. I think you may be in a position to explore some rather obscure areas of magical theory." ¡°What obscure areas?¡± Bernt asked, though he was pretty sure he knew what the old man was going to say. The old man picked up the book on his lap and held it up demonstratively, giving it an emphatic little shake. ¡°Sorcery, of course! I found the book I mentioned to you before. This one, right here. It¡¯s a travelogue by Archwizard Finnerixes of the kingdom of Theuroma.¡± Pollock looked at him expectantly, as if expecting a response. Bernt had never heard of the man. Should he have? He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of him.¡± The old wizard gave a disappointed little shake of his head. ¡°He was a prolific researcher, you should look him up in the library some time. In his younger years, he went and lived with a clan of mountain savages across the sea, south of the Mirian city states for seven years, gaining their trust to eventually gain access to their mysteries. The people there were sorcerers ¨C some of them at least ¨C and he claims that they ¡°ignited¡± a sorcerous talent by consuming the hearts of various fey creatures. There is a lot of mystical nonsense about meditation and self-discovery here, but the crux of the matter is that they grew a mana network out from a central point in their belly ''physically manifested itself into their flesh¡¯. That¡¯s what I was referring to last night.¡± Bernt pursed his lips in thought. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ strange. Does that tell us anything I can use?¡± ¡°Well,¡± Pollock said, raising both eyebrows. ¡°That¡¯s what I asked myself this morning. I went and collected a few texts on the subject from my colleagues here and talked to our fine librarian to get my hands on whatever materials she might have on the subject. As it turns out, there¡¯s actually quite a bit scattered across all these scraps. Nobody seems to have bothered to put it all together into a proper treatise, so far. Maybe a good task for you, when you¡¯re done with it. If we¡¯re lucky, you might be the first person in the guild who can personally test the veracity of some of these claims.¡± ¡°So,¡± Bernt said slowly, ¡°what did you find?¡± Pollock cackled. ¡°Why burden you with my own conclusions? I¡¯m just a doddering old man making guesses based on uncorroborated reports from questionable sources.¡± He placed the top book carefully down on his desk, and lifted the stack of open ones on his lap up, holding them out to Bernt. ¡°Here, read them for yourself and see what you can make of them. I already found the most interesting bits for you, though it probably wouldn¡¯t hurt for you to look into them a bit more thoroughly. We¡¯ll talk about it later, and I¡¯ll tell you if I think you missed something important.¡± As Bernt accepted the books, the old man rose and began to walk toward the door at a geriatric pace. ¡°You can use my chair while I¡¯m out, I¡¯m going to get something to eat. Should give you plenty of time to get some reading done. I''m not as quick as I used to be, you know.¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. With that, he was gone. Bernt stared down at the books. That oppressive sense of failure, that he¡¯d ruined his future, didn¡¯t go away. He¡¯d made himself less versatile as a mage, weakening most of his magic and modifying his pyromancy spells in an unbalanced way. But he was curious, too. What could sorcerers do? Would it be worth it? The first book described the mana network of a lesser drake ¨C a tundra wyvern. The wizard who wrote it had killed the subject and then meticulously dissected it, mapping narrow empty channels that ran through the creature¡¯s flesh. The substance of the creature¡¯s mana network ¨C a physically manifested soul ¨C had disappeared on death, leaving only the spaces where the spiritual channels had run behind. The gaps themselves, the author posited, were proof enough that a sorcerer¡¯s mana network, unlike that of a mage, was a physical thing. He theorized that this was related to how the body parts of some magical creatures and even plants gained inherent magical properties ¨C becoming magical materials that could be used in alchemy and other types of crafting. Bernt stared down at his arm, examining the odd, glowing pattern on it. It might explain why his own spells didn''t burn him as he cast anymore. Not a demon arm, as Jori had suggested, but still transformed after a fashion. The next book was written by a war mage who fought against a tribe of centaurs who had allied themselves with the orcish nomads on the Tib¡¯nar plateau to the northeast of Besermark. He described the capabilities of their sorcerers in detail, claiming that some could cast a fireball from one hand and a heat shield from the other simultaneously. Even more surprisingly, the author suggested that sorcerers could cast a wide range of different spells, though they tended to be variations on a central theme. It sounded much like the specializations that mages naturally fell into as they developed their augmentations, except that they couldn''t ¨C or at least didn''t ¨C cast spells outside of their focus. The next several books had marked passages with theories on how sorcerers formed and grew what passed for their mana networks ¨C likely ones who had read some of these very sources. Their ideas ranged from the intent and will of the sorcerer to pure instinct. One suggested that the investitures that formed were likely just hereditary. That didn¡¯t interest Bernt very much. Growing this odd, fused mana network outward into the rest of his body sounded like something that would only cause further complications. One account, though, stuck out. It was by a regular mage, a magistrix of abjuration who claimed to have been friends with a lizardman sorcerer. Most of the text was dedicated to documenting the plants and magical materials found in the lizardmen¡¯s marshes. There was also general cultural information about the tribes who lived there, and a description of the remains of an unimaginably ancient ziggurat that rose out of the waters near the wetlands¡¯ center, and which the lizardmen shunned. The page that Pollock had opened for him, though, contained a segment dedicated to the lizardman sorcerer who had invited her and acted as her guide and, more importantly, some commentary on the nature of his magics. ¡°Where mages can sense and manipulate mana directly to cast spells of infinite variety, sorcerers rely on their sense of, and control over, their mana network ¨C their spirit ¨C to guide their flow of mana. With sufficient practice and focus, a skilled sorcerer may learn to manipulate it directly to a limited extent, modifying his mana flows in the process. In this way, they may also alter the spells that are produced by the spellforms embedded therein. It is a misunderstood practice of magic, and one that deserves further study¡­¡± Bernt sat back in his chair, reading the passage again. If he could learn how this was done, then maybe he could find a way to use this investiture correctly after all. He would have to somehow reconfigure the mana flows in the investiture, perhaps only activating some parts of it to allow them to better mesh with his normal spellforms. It would be a messy process, if it worked at all. He could feel the investiture sitting there in his arm, like a physical thing. That meant he should be able to do it, right? In fact, Bernt might have gained something important here. Mages couldn¡¯t really feel their mana networks or manipulate them internally, otherwise they wouldn¡¯t need the investment process. In fact, considering all this, investitures might have originally been invented as a way to imitate the mana networks of sorcerers. So, what did it mean for a mage, someone who could sense and manipulate mana directly, to get access to a sorcerer¡¯s power? Bernt laughed incredulously. It sounded a little wooden at first, but then sound bubbled out of him, taking on a life of its own. He closed the book and set the entire stack on Pollock¡¯s table. He needed to try this out. Then he sat back down and focused on the pathways of his new investiture. He couldn¡¯t feel the whole thing in detail, so just tried to get a sense for it. It was a little like trying to feel the specific shape of an object pressed against the skin. Something that felt like it should be easy, but wasn¡¯t. The mana running through it was much easier to distinguish, but that wasn¡¯t how it was done. He needed to learn to physically manipulate the channels somehow and he couldn¡¯t do that if he couldn¡¯t get a proper sense of them. ¨C---- ¡°Well,¡± Pollock¡¯s voice came from the door, ¡°you look a lot less defeated than when you came in here.¡± Bernt turned to find the old man standing there, watching him. He wasn¡¯t sure exactly how long he¡¯d been meditating, but apparently it had been long enough for Pollock to finish his dinner and make his way back up here. He cleared his throat and nodded toward the books. ¡°I¡¯m trying to work out how these sorcerers manipulated their mana networks. If I can work out how it¡¯s done, I should be able to control the investiture better and maybe incorporate it into my spells in parts.¡± ¡°Good, good¡± the old wizard sighed as he sank into his armchair. ¡°That seems like a good place to start. Now, tell me. What kinds of opportunities did you see, looking through these sources, that you should explore?¡± 2.31 Sorcery ¡°I just don¡¯t know what to do.¡± Torvald complained. ¡°We¡¯re fighting a powerful enemy here, but I¡¯m still just a guy with a sword. I don¡¯t understand why I haven¡¯t gotten a calling!¡± Bernt shrugged noncommittally. ¡°I don¡¯t really know anything about the gods, Torvald. Can¡¯t you just ask the priests? They can talk to them directly, right?¡± They¡¯d been assigned to haul supplies down from the surface and the two of them were hauling a heavily laden cart through the tunnels toward a designated guarded storage chamber. Someone, probably the magistrate, had decided that the Undercity was a safer place to stockpile food and various flammable goods than the warehouses at the docks up on the surface. It made sense ¨C if anything, Bernt was surprised they hadn¡¯t done it sooner. The timing was probably down to the general¡¯s planned assault on the duergar. They would want the city as well equipped to handle itself as possible before they sortied. With the army outside their fortifications, they would be left relatively vulnerable. That shouldn¡¯t matter, considering that the enemy should be busy with the army, but only an idiot went to war expecting things to go to plan. Or that¡¯s what Ed had said, anyway. The old war mage would know, Bernt supposed. ¡°No! I mean, yes, they can, but they wouldn¡¯t do it over something so petty. Priests who abuse their access to their god¡¯s ear can suffer terrible consequences. Sometimes they get demoted, but in more extreme cases they can get excommunicated entirely. It¡¯s not worth it.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± Bernt said, nodding. ¡°Fair enough. But you said you wanted to become a paladin of Ruzinia, right? I mean, maybe you¡¯re just not qualified yet. She¡¯s the goddess of hopeless situations. How many of those have you been in?¡± Torvald grunted thoughtfully. "I guess it¡¯s possible. There aren¡¯t any paladins of Ruzinia in Halfbridge, that I know of. The only ones serving right now are in the military, in the garrison at Fort Alborough on the border. But there isn¡¯t supposed to be a formula. It¡¯s not a simple ritual that you can do to gain access to a god¡¯s favor. You have to develop a relationship and gain their favor as you would from a king. It¡¯s a personal process, not a ritual.¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°Sure. I mean, just keep trying, I guess. I¡¯m sure there will be plenty of opportunities to prove yourself, no matter what happens with the Duergar.¡± Whatever happened, Halfbridge now sat directly on top of a massive warren of tunnels that they knew for certain connected to the greater Depths below. A place that teemed with monsters, including at least one elder dragon and his horde of kobolds ¨C wherever they had disappeared to. Somewhere down there was the Duergar Empire proper, where their attackers had come from as well as other mysterious peoples. Dark elves, lizardfolk, and if the rumors were to be believed, even stranger creatures who never ventured anywhere near the surface. *** Josie patrolled down the tunnel in the Goblin Quarter with Jori on her shoulder, the little imp snapping her fingers as she summoned small sparks of hellfire that were extinguished almost as quickly as they formed. The fire flared every two or three seconds next to Josie¡¯s head, a tiny, smelly candle flame of destruction. After perhaps the fifth time, she cleared her throat. ¡°Jori, stop that! You¡¯re going to set my hair on fire.¡± The imp lowered her hand with a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m trying to turn the flames green. Bernt can cast green fire when he wants, but mine is always red!¡± ¡°Alright, do you have to do it right next to my head?¡± she asked irritably. ¡°Come down and walk on your own two feet if you want to play with fire!¡± With a little chirp, Jori complied. Leaping from her shoulders, she spread her wings to glide forward a few steps and landed smoothly on her feet. ¡°Are you even sure that you can modify your fire like that?¡± Josie asked as the demon began conjuring tiny flashes of fire again. ¡°I know Bernt said sorcerers could modify their spells, but is that what you are? Warlocks can¡¯t do it, and we¡¯re using your abilities, right?¡± ¡°Sure ¨C I already did!¡± Jori exclaimed proudly and snipped her fingers in demonstration in a small burst of fire. ¡°Can¡¯t you see how tiny my fire is? I can squeeze down on the channel right at the top and it makes the fire go smaller! I¡¯m going to be a real demon sorceress. Just wait and see!¡± Josie frowned, concentrating on the looping formation in her hands. She could sort of ¡°squeeze¡± down on it, sure, but that just activated the ability. She hummed consideringly. ¡°I can¡¯t do it. Do you think it might be part of the pact? It describes what power I should get from the midnight hag exhaustively. It¡¯s for my protection, but it might also limit what I can do with it.¡± ¡°No idea.¡± Jori said, trying again. This time, the tiny burst of hellfire shot straight up into the tunnel ceiling, cutting through one of the glowing vines to send a few softly glowing leaves tumbling down. Jori caught one and jumped up and down in excitement. ¡°Wow! That was different. See? Who knows what I can do!¡± ¡°I guess it makes sense,¡± Josie mused. ¡°Minor and lesser demons are pretty well understood, you all have the same basic abilities. Once they reach class 6 or 7, though, they start developing unique power profiles. I mean, that¡¯s why greater demons get their own classification. Maybe that¡¯s all they¡¯re really doing ¨C learning to manipulate a sorcerous mana network.¡± Jori shook her head. ¡°No. New, different abilities need growth ¨C new channels. I don¡¯t know how to do that, exactly. I would have to grow to try, and your master would send me back to the hells. He said he would do it.¡± She cast another quick burst of hellfire into the air. ¡°Squeezing a channel is easy. Anyone can learn it with a little time. I¡¯m going to start with that!¡± ¡°So why don¡¯t all demons do it?¡± Josie asked, voicing the obvious question. ¡°Maybe they don¡¯t know they should try,¡± Jori said, sounding a little sad. ¡°Nobody teaches us. We have to learn everything by ourselves.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Josie saw the little demon grimace and smiled at her. ¡°Hey, maybe most demons, but you don''t. You have friends!¡± More than any demon she''d ever heard of, in fact. It was really a unique situation. Jori looked up at her and nodded seriously. ¡°I do. Yes.¡± ¨C------- ¡°Damn it, Iri.¡± Ed grumbled, ¡°Old Pollock? Really? Your timing could have been better. He was just starting to make himself useful. I had to take him off the interception team and start sending Fiora out. Says he thinks he can get proper control of his fire spells again ¡®soon¡¯, but who knows how long he¡¯s going to be laid up.¡± Iriala kept her eyes fixed on General Arice, who was describing the tactics he intended to use to break through the duergar defenses to the assembled stakeholders for the city¡¯s defense. Much of these plans were based directly on Iri¡¯s own scrying, so he supposed maybe she actually found it interesting. Ed thought a windbag like Arice shouldn¡¯t be explaining this sort of thing in the first place ¨C he should have just let the tactician that made the damned plan give this talk. After a moment, Iri nodded to herself and turned to fix him with a neutral stare. ¡°He was dabbling in creating his own fire spells, Ed. He was going to meet him sooner or later. Bernt needed some proper guidance and Magister Pollock is an enthusiastic and competent teacher, if a bit reckless. If you¡¯d sponsored his guild membership, you might have delayed the inevitable a bit, but not by much. He did it to himself, you know, and it was his own idea. Without Pollock he would have probably killed himself with that experiment.¡± Ed hummed irritably. ¡°I told him to wait until he was a magister himself before he started playing around with his mana network. A little experience can go a long way.¡± Iriala sighed and rolled her eyes at him. ¡°Yes Ed, you always listened to the wisdom of your elders when you were young. At least we got that banefire spell from him. You should have seen the face on Arice¡¯s Pyromancer Colonel when I gave it to him. They¡¯ve been stuck on heat shielding duty this whole time, just trying to keep the demons from cooking their troops down in those kobold tunnels." Ed pulled the unlit pipe from his mouth and scowled down at it for a moment. Then he knocked the dead ash out of it onto the ground next to him and reached for the bag of tobacco he always kept in his left sleeve. ¡°Good for them, I guess.¡± It was embarrassing that they needed it, really. The military should already have effective doctrines and tools for dealing with an enemy like this in the Depths. In fact, he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they did, and Arice just didn¡¯t know what he was doing. That asshole rubbed him the wrong way, prancing around over there, trying to look smart in front of the count instead of doing his job. Everyone could see the damned tactical map on the table. What did they need him talking for? ¡°How is that dwarf¡¯s project going?" Iriala said, changing the subject. "He showed up in my office with Janus yesterday, asking for one of my engineers ¨C a hydromancer. They were awfully hush-hush about it.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Ed nodded, relaxing a little. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s a contingency I set him on. I¡¯d rather not talk about it too much, if you don¡¯t mind. You never really know who or what¡¯s listening, and we¡¯re sitting a little too close to all the most interesting people in this city, as far as those damned dwarves out there are concerned.¡± ¨C------- ¡°How did you do it?¡± Bernt asked, opening the window shutters to let the stink out of their living room. Jori had just cast a broad, diffuse cloud of hellfire into their living room. It evaporated almost immediately, leaving the room hot and reeking of sulfur. Jori shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not really that hard. I just think about what I want it to do and then try it out. It¡¯s like learning how to fly!¡± ¡°Thanks, that¡¯s very helpful.¡± Bernt said sarcastically. Jori had described the way she modified her casting as squeezing or pushing on the channels. To Bernt, that sounded like she was essentially restricting mana flow in some areas or cutting them off from the rest of the network, maybe even changing the shape of the mana network slightly. The problem was he had no idea how she was doing that. It didn¡¯t feel like much through the bond. He could feel the investiture there, sure. He could even sense the mana coursing through it, something that proper sorcerers couldn¡¯t do as far as he''d read. But squeezing it physically with his muscles didn¡¯t do anything at all as far as he could tell. That made sense. It was his spirit, after all. Even if it was physically manifested, why would pushing on it physically do anything? But then, how was he supposed to manipulate it? Bernt growled in frustration. If only he could cast his spells normally through his right hand ¨C maybe figure out a way to sort of disconnect parts of the structure as he cast mana through in a mostly straight line, then maybe he could at least cast his spells almost normally. Then he could work bits of the new investiture into them as needed and take his time. He held his hand up to cast another torch spell next to the three already hanging in the air in front of him. Unlike his normal version, these spells would stay lit indefinitely ¨C drawing mana from the environment to sustain them. He supposed if he cast enough of them, they should eventually drain the power from their surroundings and create a sort of mana desert in the house, choking out the perpetual torch spells. Not an ideal environment for a mage, either. With a thought, he extinguished two of the lights before continuing, dispersing the mana that it burned back into the environment while absorbing the mana that defined its structure back into himself. It was slightly more complicated than canceling a ¡°normal¡± spell, which was done simply by withdrawing his mana from it, but it didn¡¯t take more than a moment either way. He just wanted one channel, the shortest path through the investiture, skipping as much of its complex structure as possible. Concentrating on his goal, he cast the spell. As he did, he felt an odd prodding sensation in his arm. Then the channels warmed as the spell manifested, and fire poured from his palm, rolling into a ball. He stared at it. ¡°Did it work?¡± Jori shrugged. Frustrated, he cursed himself for not chalking a rune circle down on the ground before he started. Except for the way it manifested, his new torch spell looked almost exactly like the old one to the naked eye. He had no way to tell if he¡¯d managed to change anything. Bernt focused on the air around the spell, trying to sense if it was absorbing mana from the air around it. It didn¡¯t feel like it. Not like the older spell hanging next to it. ¡°Hey, I think I did it!¡± he said, sounding surprised, even to himself. He¡¯d done something. Jori looked up at the light, squinting skeptically. She reached up and lobbed an uneven glob of liquid flame up into the air, where it hung awkwardly, rotating crazily around its own axis and giving off an unpleasant smell to go with its reddish light. It didn¡¯t form into a ball. Jori nodded at it proudly. ¡°Mine¡¯s better,¡± she opined. 2.32 Clean-Up Duty ¡°Sir, don¡¯t you think this is too much?¡± Josie asked, putting the note down on Radast¡¯s desk. ¡°You¡¯re framing her as a cute, friendly neighborhood mascot. She¡¯s a hellfire-throwing demon who seems to have just barely discovered the concept of empathy. I don¡¯t want to downplay that achievement, but I think we have to keep the story realistic enough for people to swallow. I mean, she still harvests the soul residues from any of the dead she can get her hands on. There are rumors out there about that as well ¨C it¡¯s not so subtle that there haven¡¯t been witnesses. Radast shrugged. ¡°Have you heard what¡¯s being said out there? A bit of hyperbole won¡¯t make a difference. We''re going to give it a try. It¡¯s not really about telling a specific story ¨C we¡¯re just trying to push public sentiment into the right direction. We can always adjust the messaging a bit if it doesn¡¯t take.¡± The Chief Solicitor leaned back into his seat, steepling his fingers. ¡°We don¡¯t have an unlimited amount of time to work with. We need to reassure people, keep them from thinking purely in terms of black and white. That¡¯s hard enough when it¡¯s just those priests from the Temple of Balarian in the streets trying to incite the populace against us. The enemy has shades and watchers in the city, and their influence isn¡¯t so subtle that people haven¡¯t noticed. We have to keep our message as simple as possible if we want to get anywhere, so ¡®little friendly demon mascot¡¯ is what we¡¯re going with.¡± Josie nodded resignedly. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll go and brief solicitor Bartholomew and he can get it out to the pubs.¡± With a respectful bow, she turned and made her way down the stairs toward Barty¡¯s office. She didn¡¯t like where this whole propaganda campaign was going. The controversy didn¡¯t bother her ¨C that was always going to happen. She was honestly surprised that it wasn¡¯t worse. While some of the temples seemed to be responding with alarm to the positive sentiment building for Halfbridge¡¯s local celebrity demon, others had left it alone so far. Torvald, who admittedly wasn¡¯t associated with a specific temple, had especially surprised her. He had gone so far as to sit down and chat with Jori, though he still seemed a bit uncomfortable doing it. No, what bothered her was how innocent and altruistic they were making Jori out to be. Sure, she really had saved some lives, fighting that warlock, participating in patrols and even saving the adventurers down in the dungeon before the Duergar got here. But they weren¡¯t being honest about the how and why. Josie liked Jori ¨C she was fun! And she¡¯d learned a lot just by talking to the little imp about her life. But because of those conversations, she also knew that Jori¡¯s pro-social behavior was only really genuine toward the people she considered her friends. Outside of honoring bargains she genuinely didn¡¯t understand basic moral standards, most notably why killing strangers would be wrong. People would feel betrayed and lied to when the truth came out, and Josie didn¡¯t want that. She would have preferred to tell the truth. They had a demon in Halfbridge who had learned to form emotional attachments. That was groundbreaking all on its own and it should be treated as such. Radast¡¯s preferred narrative might help them in the here and now, but she couldn¡¯t see how it wouldn¡¯t lead to problems in the longer term. ¨C------- ¡°Look, I can help!¡± Bernt said, holding up his left hand. ¡°It¡¯s not quite as powerful as it was, but I can cast Banefire just fine with my left hand. I don¡¯t need to be sidelined like this, especially with Kustov off doing whatever his new secret project is.¡± Fiora shook her head. ¡°Bernt, Ed would have taken you off of combat duty no matter what, even if everything had gone well with your new investiture. You don¡¯t need to prove anything here, he was just griping. You have to get used to your new normal before you can be a reliable asset in a fight. It¡¯s standard procedure for war mages, and good sense for anyone.¡± She shuffled through a stack of papers in her hands, looking over them with a worried expression. ¡°Besides, we didn¡¯t really have time to train a lot of the new underkeepers properly, and we¡¯ve had all the mages down here fighting the duergar for weeks. It hasn¡¯t really gone that well ¨C the sewers could use some attention from a real professional. Things are piling up a bit.¡± Bernt sighed. He should have known. At least he could get something proper to eat, assuming at least that Cal hadn¡¯t run out of mystery meat and cabbage. ¡°How bad is it?¡± ¨C----- Bernt¡¯s boots made little splashing sounds as he turned onto the narrow street down by the docks that led to the tenement he used to call home. Black water had poured up out of the sewers into the street, giving the dingy neighborhood a smell to match its reputation. The place was nearly deserted, but he could see someone wading through the muck a block away, most likely trying to get to higher ground. Bernt sighed. He could clear the blockage, but the street would probably smell this bad for weeks ¨C at least until they had some proper rain. A few days¡¯ worth at least. Ignoring the stench, he made his way down toward the nearest storm drain. He was going to have to use a hydromancy spell to force water through whatever obstruction was down there, and that was not going to be fun. Water was by far Bernt¡¯s least favorite element to work with ¨C the spellforms for it didn¡¯t align in a way that made sense to him, so memorizing and reproducing them properly was a nightmare. At least he had a better focus now than the last time he¡¯d done this. Reaching down into the muck, he hauled the grate covering the drain up to give himself better access. Then, he gripped his staff in both hands and dipped the end down into the water to trace out runes in odd circular patterns. It still felt awkward channeling mana from his left hand, and he had to be careful not to activate the spell prematurely. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Someone like Uriah could do this in his sleep, despite the fact that the man had never finished his first augmentation. But Uriah wasn¡¯t here ¨C he¡¯d moved to Loamfurth to escape Ed¡¯s ambitions for the Underkeepers. It was going to take Bernt minutes just to get the spellform shaped correctly. ¡°Bernt!¡± called a familiar voice from a window. ¡°I knew you had something to do with this!¡± Trying not to lose his concentration, Bernt activated the spell, forming a circular current in the water below and then driving it up to run downstream as close to the tunnel ceiling as possible. Ideally, it would force water through the obstruction near its weakest point and begin tearing it down. The dammed up waters behind should, at that point, go a long way toward clearing out whatever was down there. They were barely a hundred strides from the sewer mouth here, so the debris didn''t need to get flushed very far. He heard it when the obstruction gave way ¨C a low rushing sound that sounded from a short way further down the road. He breathed a small sigh of relief and looked up. Rina, his old landlady, glared down at him from a window. This wasn¡¯t his old building. Did she own the whole street? ¡°Hello Rina.¡± he said, his tone almost polite. She¡¯d evicted him from his former apartment while he was out a few months earlier. The money he¡¯d spent living at an inn while he fruitlessly searched for a new place had more than erased the money he¡¯d saved by choosing to live in such a small, dingy room in the first place. ¡°I had something to do with what, exactly?¡± ¡°All of this shit in my street, obviously!¡± she snapped. ¡°This place has been a cesspool for nearly a week. Inveron¡¯s boys from the pub tried to clear it a few days ago so the customers would come back, but the water came back up the same day. You¡¯re telling me that happens all by itself?¡± She scoffed. ¡°Now you¡¯re here, doing what? Checking on your work?¡± ¡°I¡¯m doing my job.¡± Bernt gritted his teeth. He wanted to tell her what she could do with her shitty street, but that wasn¡¯t going to improve the situation here. And it wasn¡¯t as though he could reason with the woman. There was nothing to be gained talking to her at all. Although¡­ ¡°It resealed itself the same day?¡± he asked. ¡°When was this?¡± The middle-aged slumlord stared at him with narrowed eyes before finally answering. ¡°Two days ago.¡± Bernt cursed to himself. He was going to have to go down there and look. ¡°Where have you and your friends been? Ignoring your duties and consorting with goblins, I hear! And Demons! We hear things here, too, you know. We know what you¡¯re trying to do, spitting in the eyes of the gods with your filth!¡± Ignoring Rina¡¯s ranting, Bernt walked a bit further down the street, past where the actual obstruction was, to the nearest sewer access shaft. Opening it, he climbed down, and cast a torch spell to get a better look at the situation down in the sewer. Water rushed by in a torrent, though the water level had already sunk quite a bit. His spell had worked, but he needed to make sure that the obstruction was fully cleared. Normally, he would have waited a few minutes up in the street, but he found that he preferred this to remaining within earshot of his former landlady. Within a minute, the flow began to slow and Bernt put a booted foot down into the water to gauge its depth. It still reached up to his ankle at the shallower sides that were technically meant to function as a dry walkway. Good enough. Heading back upstream, Bernt kept a close eye on the ceiling of the sewer tunnel. It was dry here, but the ceiling on the far side of the obstruction would be completely wet, so it should give him a rough idea of where exactly the sewer had been clogged up. As it turned out, he needn¡¯t have bothered. Two big pipes emptied into the sewer from opposite sides here, leading in from the large, ugly tenement buildings. While the sewer itself looked clear right now, Bernt shuddered in revulsion when he caught sight of what was causing the problem. The pipes on either side of the tunnel were completely blocked by a translucent, gelatinous goo that roiled hideously within them. As he watched, it began to pour itself out of the pipes and along the walls as if testing the environment all around. The sight was disgusting, even for him and he had to swallow down his gorge and look away. Slimes didn¡¯t have most of the traditional five senses like natural creatures did. Instead, they relied on touch and taste to interact with their environment and consumed organic matter to fuel their growth. These slimes here had likely done a lot of growing. They could eat almost anything, and slimes in the wild had been known to strip the fields of entire villages if left unchecked. They would also consume people and animals if they could creep up on them unawares. Fortunately, they weren¡¯t terribly fast, and they didn¡¯t do well in arid environments. Still, Bernt wondered uncomfortably just how many of these things he¡¯d just inadvertently sent down the river. Then again, that¡¯s what he would have had to do regardless. Slimes were heat sensitive, but it wasn¡¯t as though he could boil an entire sewer¡¯s worth of water. Backing up, he focused on the problem at hand and raised his right hand. This was a complication, but also an opportunity. Slimes were magical creatures, and he needed to know what that meant with regard to his new investiture. Without using any spellform at all, Bernt poured mana into his right hand unguided. White, liquid fire filled it ¨C his sorcerous perpetual flame, but more than that. It also carried the influence of his first burning rain investiture. He wasn¡¯t sure exactly why it worked, but Pollock had posited that the investiture woven into his mana network would naturally insert itself into any active spellform, whether he consciously shaped it or not. He could feel the heat of it on his skin, but it didn¡¯t burn him. He still didn¡¯t understand why that was, exactly. He¡¯d have to see if Pollock had any guesses. With an overhand motion, he flung it at the nearest slime, much the way that Jori wielded her hellfire. It impacted with a satisfying sizzle and the slime began to shiver and wriggle oddly. A moment later, steam hissed from it and the entire thing lost cohesion, collapsing into a sticky puddle. The fire, though, didn¡¯t go out. It spread up the pipe, eating through the slimes inside. Alarmed, Bernt extinguished the spell before it got too far away from him. Who knew what would happen if the fire came out the other end of the pipe? He would have to get inside the building and clear it from the top down. Still, it had an interesting effect. He tried it again on the other side, with the same result. Who would have thought that such a dangerous spell would offer such simple, practical utility in everyday life? 2.33 Opening Moves By the time Bernt made his way back toward the Undercity Gate, it was already getting dark. He shivered in the cold evening air ¨C winter was just around the corner and the nights were getting chillier every day. For a moment, he considered trying a warming variation on his clothes-cleaning cantrip that he¡¯d developed the previous winter, but decided against it. He¡¯d never tried to cast it with an investiture before, never mind doing it left-handed. He opted for some hot food instead. ¡°Bernt! Haven¡¯t seen you around here in a while.¡± Cal said as he processed his order with the rote efficiency of a true professional cabbage slinger. ¡°What happened?¡± He shrugged apologetically. ¡°I moved down into the new Undercity, and work¡¯s kept me down there most days since. I¡¯d be by more often if I could ¨C those dwarves are a real headache.¡± ¡°Yeah? I haven¡¯t really heard anything. Things seem mostly quiet around here except for the mobilization. The guards came by a week ago and picked up all the day-laborers and porters down by the docks and such. Other than that, food just got a lot more expensive. I hope they break the siege soon, because winter¡¯s going to be a problem otherwise, I think. A lot of people are worried.¡± Bernt grunted in agreement and nodded. He accepted the paper bag of food, paid and headed homeward, ducking through a few alleyways to cut into the Crafter¡¯s District. He¡¯d nearly made it to the plaza that contained the Undercity Gate when the ground shook and an enormous rumbling boom thundered through the city. He stumbled and nearly dropped his cabbage roll. What was that? There were a few shouts in the distance, probably other pedestrians asking what happened. Collecting himself, Bernt hurried forward toward the guard station at the Undercity Gate. Palina was there, at her usual spot along with a younger dwarf who was trying to calm down a passerby who¡¯d stopped to question him. ¡°Well, we have to know what to do, right?¡± The man insisted. ¡°This is your job, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Yes, sir, we¡¯re going to let you know as soon as we get an update, alright? Right now, I just need you to remain calm and get indoors. It could be any number of things, but we don¡¯t know anything more than you do.¡± ¡°Indoors?!¡± The man scoffed. ¡°Did you feel the ground shake? For all we know the buildings are going to start collapsing down on us!¡± ¡°Or,¡± the dwarf said patiently, ¡°since we¡¯re under siege, we might consider whether the enemy has broken through our wards with artillery. Considering the circumstances, I would suggest getting under cover.¡± Offended by the dwarf¡¯s apparent lack of urgency the man¡¯s face started turning red as he puffed himself up, preparing to extend his angry tirade. Palina put a hand on the other guard¡¯s shoulder and pulled him back a little. ¡°Now, listen he¨Cargh!¡± the man cut off with a yelp as Palina lightly stamped the butt of her spear onto his toe. He limped back, cursing loudly. ¡°Move along!¡± she called after him unnecessarily in a pleasant voice, before she saw Bernt approaching and waved. ¡°Evening.¡± Bernt called in reply. ¡°Sounds like a rough night ahead, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Just then, a trumpet sounded far in the distance. After a few seconds, a closer one took up the signal as well. They were long repetitive bursts ¨C a general alarm. Not even the trumpeter knew what the problem was, yet. Another thunderous boom rattled the city, even louder this time, and Bernt heard the rumble of collapsing masonry follow. A massive dust cloud rose somewhere over the lower district, further darkening the evening sky. Palina watched the dust rise with a worried expression. ¡°Probably. But this is the City Guards¡¯ problem. You should get down below and see what¡¯s coming up on our end. For all we know, this is a distraction. I wouldn¡¯t count on getting home any time soon.¡± Groaning inwardly, Bernt nodded to the two of them and forced his tired limbs into a jog. It had already been a long day. He just wanted to go home and maybe try to work on his control over his sorcerous investiture. The last thing he needed now was a fight. *** By the time Bernt reached the Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters, word had gone out in the Undercity. The market area, which should have been teeming with activity at this time of day, was deserted except for a few merchants who were still hastily packing away their goods. Gray-clad guards trickled in from various parts of the Undercity, some not even fully dressed yet. Bernt waved to a young goblin guard named Hixle as he came rushing out of the tunnel to the Goblin Quarter. ¡°What do we know?¡± Bernt asked as the two met up and started to make their way across the square. ¡°Nothing,¡± Hixle said a little breathlessly. ¡°General alarm ¨C double patrol size and stand by, I¡¯m guessing.¡± Bernt cursed. It was essentially what he¡¯d been expecting. There was no way he would get any sleep tonight. The courtyard in front of the Underkeepers¡¯ Complex was teeming with activity. Glim was bawling orders, lining up newer guard recruits and checking their equipment. Ed stood off to the side with Fiora, Dayle, Rindle, Lin and Josie. The other mages and the missing goblin druid were likely out on patrol. Jori was inside, and Bernt could hear her giving instructions to her two interns through their familiar bond. The children should have already gone home, but he supposed it was probably safer here than up on the surface right now. Farrin would be worried, though. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. As Hixle moved off to join the guards, Bernt went over to Ed¡¯s group. ¡°¨Cwill stay here to watch the wards,¡± the archmage was saying. ¡°Arice is supposed to make his move soon, or maybe he already did and they¡¯re fighting down in the tunnels right now. He didn¡¯t want to give us an exact time for fear of being overheard. Whatever the case, this all might just be some collateral damage from a battle we can¡¯t even see. Iri would know, but she¡¯s up at the guild. Worst case, though, the Duergar preempted the attack and we¡¯re on the defensive. You¡¯re our heaviest hitters, so until word gets through, I want all of you to stay here. If we have a real fight on our hands, we can¡¯t afford to have all our forces prematurely committed with nothing in reserve.¡± Turning toward the assembled guards, Ed cleared his throat, and the sound echoed through the courtyard, amplified by a spell. ¡°I¡¯m going to have Glim organize patrols of three to keep an eye on the streets down here. Make your presence known, tell people to get inside and do your best to reassure people. If you run into looters¡­ do your best. But don¡¯t get killed, just make sure you get a good look at their faces. The army might be out of position, so we need to be prepared to deal with more incoming duergar than before. We can¡¯t afford to get into fights with our own people today.¡± Glim, taking his cue, began to organize the guards around him into teams of three. Ed nodded to himself, then continued, more quietly. ¡°I¡¯m going to check on Kustov and his little project. I shouldn¡¯t be long, but Fiora¡¯s in charge in the meantime. Watch those wards closely and see if you can get word from the surface or from the front line. I already sent someone over to check on the general, and the gate guards have instructions to run any critical updates down to us. We should have a better idea of what¡¯s going on soon.¡± With that, he turned to leave and caught sight of Bernt, who was standing between him and the door. ¡°Bernt, how¡¯s the hand? Are you good to fight?¡± he asked. It wasn¡¯t really a question. What was he going to do, hide with the civilians while an army swept through the city? Bernt nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Ed thumped him on the shoulder as he passed by and disappeared out into the street. Fiora cleared her throat. ¡°Alright.¡± She looked around, seeing that Glim had the patrols in hand, and turned to go inside. ¡°Let¡¯s go grab a cup of tea and wait for the wards to go off.¡± *** Bernt sipped his tea, watching the ward-map with Dayle. Through the bond, he casually eavesdropped on Jori. She was in the kitchen with Lin, who was cooking up some kind of experimental spice broth as a ¡°tea¡± for the little imp at her request. Bored with the goblin¡¯s regular mixtures, Jori had asked if she didn¡¯t have anything with any ¡°real flavor¡± to it. Lin had, apparently, taken that as a challenge. ¡°Do you think they really timed it that well?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°I mean, to get past the army and break in here in force?¡± Dayle pulled a face. ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell you. Don¡¯t know what they know, do I? Still, though, it ain¡¯t that easy to run an army around an enemy on the move. Arice has scryers keeping an eye out, and the guild, too. They¡¯d need to counter-divinate, and then still get the timing right. There would be some luck involved no matter how they tried it.¡± Jori and Lin made their way back toward his table, chatting amiably. Jori was holding an enormous, steaming cup in both hands. Or rather, the cup was normal-sized, but it looked gigantic on the tiny creature. ¡°Go on, try it!¡± Lin urged as they sat down. Grinning in anticipation, Jori lifted the witch¡¯s concoction to her mouth and her eyes went wide. She gulped it down eagerly and slammed the cup down on the table with a whoop. Flames spewed from her mouth. Not hellfire, just the regular, mundane kind. ¡°Tasty!¡± She cheered, causing even more fire to spill out, this time also from her nose. That provoked an even greater reaction as she broke into hysterical laughter, making the problem even worse. Lin cackled with amusement and Bernt smiled at their antics. ¡°It tickles!¡± she wheezed, as she caught her breath nearly a minute later and the flames finally died down. The door opened and everyone turned to look. Glim entered, followed by about a dozen other tired-looking guards ¨C those left over after setting up the patrols. Most likely they were guards who, like Bernt, would have been on their way home right now if not for the emergency. Right behind them though, followed a harried-looking dwarf ¨C the same one who¡¯d been guarding the Undercity gate with Palina. ¡°Is Archmage Thurdred here?¡± he asked, looking around urgently as the others got settled. ¡°Come here!¡± Fiora called, waving him over. ¡°Ed¡¯s out for a bit. Just tell us what¡¯s going on and we¡¯ll let him know when he gets back. What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Oh. Alright.¡± The young man hurried over and saluted unnecessarily. ¡°Uh. I¡¯m Drugni, ma¡¯am. The City Guard sent someone by to brief us. There have been three strikes in the last hour, all from inside the city ¨C they¡¯re not sure if it was an alchemical or enchanted explosive device, or if the enemy snuck someone who could cast powerful artillery spells into the city. The city¡¯s wards haven¡¯t been breached, but we lost the City¡¯s Alchemical Reserve Stockpile and the Solicitor¡¯s Office partially collapsed.¡± Josie, who was sitting with Fiora, sat up straight with a stunned expression. The warlock opened her mouth to talk, but the older mage put a hand on her shoulder as she held the guard¡¯s gaze. ¡°What about the third strike?¡± ¡°The guard said it struck the Mages¡¯ Guild, but the building¡¯s wards held. The blast leveled several smaller buildings nearby.¡± Drugni swallowed. ¡°He said there were a lot of bodies.¡± There were murmurs at that, and Dayle cursed loudly as Fiora frowned contemplatively. ¡°Anything about the city¡¯s wards?¡± Dayle cut in when Fiora didn¡¯t say anything. At the same moment Josie recovered her composure enough to ask: ¡°What about the Solicitor¡¯s Office?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t say anything specific about the warlocks,¡± the guard shrugged. Judging by his expression, Bernt guessed Drugni hadn¡¯t asked. ¡°It sounds like the wards are holding, but there has been some bombardment ¨C looked like spells and projectiles, but not too much of it.¡± the dwarf went on, turning to Dayle. ¡°There was no mention of anything else, and there haven¡¯t been any signals for a breach.¡± Fiora grunted and looked around the room, raising her voice. ¡°Alright, everybody. This means nobody is going home tonight. If you were just on duty, I want you resting or sleeping here at headquarters. Use the back rooms for sleeping. It¡¯s not comfortable, but it¡¯ll do. Drugni, stay here and rest for a while, we¡¯ll send two guards up to relieve Palina in a few minutes ¨C we¡¯re still waiting on a few stragglers to get here.¡± With a wave of dismissal, the mage turned to Josie, putting a hand on her shoulder to speak a few quiet words. The Solicitor looked miserable, but she nodded and took a sip of her tea. Bernt thought maybe he should go over there and say something to make her feel better, but he couldn¡¯t think of anything appropriate. What were you supposed to say at a time like this? In the end, he settled for bringing her a fresh cup of tea. Then he sat down at her table and returned to watching the ward map. He didn''t really need words to tell her that she wasn''t alone, anyway. 2.34 Before the Storm By the time Bernt finished his tea, Ed returned with Kustov and a few Underkeeper Guards in tow. Ed had intercepted the messenger returning from the army on his way back. After hearing Fiora¡¯s report on the situation on the surface, he filled them in. ¡°They started attacking on the front line before Arice even made his move. Nothing too unusual so far down here, they¡¯re just testing our defenses, but the general put his assault on hold for the time being. The timing is suspicious, and the fact that they¡¯re pushing on the surface is too. The strikes suggest that they¡¯re making a move. Losing the alchemical reserve is more of a long-term problem, and one that¡¯s going to cause real morale issues the longer this goes.¡± Fiora groaned and rubbed at her face. ¡°I hate this. We don¡¯t know a damned thing and we¡¯re expected to just sit here and wait for the enemy to spill in? What kind of strategy is that? And where is the militia? Shouldn¡¯t the count have mobilized some more bodies for us by now?¡± Ed grunted. ¡°He did, just not for us. We¡¯re the only part of the city that can¡¯t be bombarded, and we have the army between us and the enemy. They¡¯ll be working to clear rubble, run salvage and dig for survivors up on the surface.¡± That and the Undercity was meant to be an early warning system, buffer zone, and slum. It was far too nice to be considered the latter, but Bernt supposed the count hadn¡¯t actually seen it for himself. He wouldn¡¯t want to expend too many resources protecting it. Its ¨C and therefore the Underkeepers¡¯ ¨C purpose was to slow the enemy down long enough for the military and the guilds to respond, not to get tax-paying citizens killed. Bernt rose and nodded to the others. ¡°I¡¯m going to try to catch a bit of sleep.¡± They were stuck waiting for the moment. If the duergar started blowing things up in the Undercity in a few hours, at least he wouldn¡¯t be tired. *** Iriala stalked furiously into the castle¡¯s secondary meeting room. Some traitorous asshole had decided to show up and throw a bomb at her building. The culprit blew herself up in the process as well, which was unfortunate, even if it was no less than she deserved. It hadn¡¯t been an incendiary, like the alchemical device that Radast had shown her. No, it was some kind of enchanted ward-breaker. A concussion bomb, essentially a powerful force spell locked into a rune of holding that was carved onto a simple rock. The rock was loaded into an enchanted metal shell designed to bypass specific kinds of wards and rune circles, which would also trigger the device. The thing had actually made it past one layer of the Guild¡¯s wards. That alone suggested far more familiarity with their defenses than Iriala was comfortable with. The worst of the explosion was stopped by the building¡¯s carefully warded walls, but it had still blown out their windows. And now, instead of fixing this mess, scrying enemy movements, and focusing on the city¡¯s magical defenses, she¡¯d been summoned to a meeting. Iriala loved intrigue and politics as a general rule, but there were times where she could understand Ed¡¯s scornful attitude all too well. ¡°Nice of you to join us.¡± Theresa, the head of the local Alchemists¡¯ Guild, said with a self-important smirk. The room was filled with the city¡¯s most important people ¨C guild representatives, military, clergy, and a few noble relatives of the count. A few tittered. Iriala scowled. Gods above, these idiots were still playing at court politics while fire rained down on the wards. At this rate, she was going to have an aneurism before the night was done. But she controlled her expression and bowed to the count. ¡°Count Narald, please excuse my late arrival. I stopped to check on the wards.¡± That wasn¡¯t true, of course ¨C it was just an unsubtle reminder that was where she should be right now. Narald nodded to her and waved her toward the empty seat behind him and to his left ¨C the one reserved for her as the court mage. ¡°Not to worry, archmage. This will only take a moment.¡± he turned to his left, where a uniformed soldier stood at attention. ¡°Young man, if you please.¡± The soldier saluted. ¡°My lord! The general wishes to report that the enemy has moved to pressure our forces directly from below, concentrated on our center as though they intend to break through. It is the general¡¯s belief, though, that they may have also pulled some troops back from the front lines below to bolster their presence on the surface. He therefore wishes to inform the count that an attack on the city may be imminent.¡± Iriala rolled her eyes. They were attacking now. What was the point of this? ¡°We can see that.¡± Ambrose, the head of the local Adventurers¡¯ Guild called out. Bless his heart. ¡°Why don¡¯t we go fight them? I¡¯m not built for all this hiding behind walls.¡± Narald waved the large man to silence and gazed around the room until the murmurs of the assembly began to die down. The man had a presence of sorts, even if his talent for governance was only middling. He knew how to control a room. ¡°Our scouts, as well as the scryers posted here at the palace, have seen no evidence to suggest that the troops the general is referring to ever appeared here on the surface.¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Iriala frowned and began quickly casting her own scrying spells, channeled through her glasses to give her a view of the earthen ramparts outside the city. The man was right, at least at a glance. There were siege engines and a few small groups of mages cooperatively slinging powerful spells at the city, but there were no more people there than the day before. No massed ground troops, nothing to suggest that they were serious about getting into the city. Except either they or some of the demon-worshipping cultists that Radast had discovered had made it inside and were making a mess of the city already. ¡°Well,¡± Ambrose grumbled, looking around, his eyes finally settling on Iriala. ¡°They didn¡¯t disappear, right? Where did they go?¡± ¡°Yes, yes.¡± Iriala sighed, drawing on the influence of her second augmentation to cast a divination spell. She needed a glimpse into the future, if she could get one. ¡°I¡¯m already on it.¡± "I want the City Guard to run checks at all the inner gates to intercept any other infiltrators. Other than that, Righmond, you''re to hold the walls, and watch for external threats. Report any signs of incoming assaults directly to Archmage Iriala." Narald ordered, glaring at the corpulent man to quell any signs of protest. "The guilds will support the Guard in the defense of the city in the event of an attack. My court mage will coordinate our forces and facilitate communication throughout the city. Branchmaster Ambrose will take charge in the field." Iriala sighed. Of course. *** Bernt tossed and turned on the hard ground, trying to find a comfortable position. There were several others in the room, but they all seemed to be fast asleep. He¡¯d even tried an earth shaping cantrip to get the ground to conform to his body more comfortably. It was still pretty uncomfortable. The growing frustration of failing to fall asleep didn¡¯t help. Giving up on rest, he made his way out into the corridor to hunt for an empty chamber. Several others were occupied with sleeping figures, more than there had been in the entire compound when he¡¯d first arrived. All three shifts of guards must have been brought in now, with just one shift out on patrol while the others slept. Ed had kept recruiting after their move down into the Undercity, and last that he¡¯d heard, they now had over a hundred members, though many of those were inexperienced recruits. It was an enormous change from the tiny order of disgraced mages that many people still thought of them as. After checking four rooms, Bernt finally found one that was probably meant to become a small office for someone in the future ¨C that or a toilet, but there was no drain or anything that looked like it would connect to the septic system. Focusing, Bernt raised his left hand and cast an earth shaping cantrip. The spell came much more easily now than it had a few weeks before. As Kustov had promised, he¡¯d gotten much better at using earth magic lately, even if his spells were weaker due to his unusual second investiture. Carefully, he raised a portion of the stone floor up and flattened it into a seat. He didn¡¯t bother with making a real chair ¨C he¡¯d managed it twice now, but it took hours to get it right each time. The stone block was reasonably smooth and about knee-high. It would do fine. Sitting down on it. Bernt concentrated on his right arm. If they were going to be fighting soon, he needed to be able to cast his banefire properly and at full strength. It manifested when he cast it through the new investiture, but it was white rather than gray. He seriously doubted that it would affect demons in the same way as the original, if it worked at all. He¡¯d managed to cast his torch spell correctly a few times now ¨C if he understood it right, then the exact same process should work for bypassing most of the sorcerous investiture¡¯s effects for all of his spells. It still activated the specific channels that he used, but those were left mostly as noise in the spellform. That was an inefficiency, but having the investiture also strengthened his spells in general ¨C so it should balance out. In the future, he would have to learn to route his mana precisely to take advantage of the bits of the investiture he wanted to include, but that was something for the future. Right now, he couldn¡¯t even reliably cast with this rudimentary kind of control. He needed to practice. *** Bernt watched a bolt of white fire erupt from his hand and canceled the spell before it could impact the opposite wall. Another failure. It wasn¡¯t all bad, though. He¡¯d managed three successful castings, and he thought he was starting to get a better sense for his manifested channels. Like any other part of his body, it didn¡¯t feel like a specific shape, it was just there. This wasn¡¯t about visualizing the spellform, or not just that. It was an organic thing, in a way. He needed to be able to feel and ¡°flex¡± all the various ¡°limbs¡± of the investiture, for lack of a better analogy. When he wanted to grab something, he didn¡¯t think about precisely where each finger was located on his body, or what exact shape his arm should take. He just did it. It was an entirely different approach to mana manipulation ¨C one that didn¡¯t really consider the mana involved at all. It was a frustrating realization, because he knew that he wouldn¡¯t be able to master his new abilities quickly. On the other hand, though, it was a relief. He was, in a sense, like a baby learning to move its arms and legs, so that it could later learn to walk, run, and jump. While it took time, it was something he could learn through sheer practice, given time and effort. Bernt was about to try it again when he sensed Jori approaching from down the hall. He thought she¡¯d spent most of the evening in the breakroom, though he hadn¡¯t really been paying attention. A moment later, she scampered through the doorless entrance of the room. ¡°Radast is here,¡± she said without preamble. ¡°The other warlocks, too.¡± That was odd. With the Solicitor¡¯s Office damaged, it made sense that the warlocks would look for somewhere else to hang their hats for a while, but why come down here? They were a semi-private organization, one that mostly made their gold working with other guilds, nobles and prominent individuals. They would have much more comfortable options on the surface. At least Josie would be relieved. ¡°What are they doing here?¡± To his surprise, Jori had an answer. ¡°Josie says they are here to assist the defense. The Great Mage sent him a message, and the Great One Radast sent his pacted shade to watch the enemy. They¡¯re coming!¡± Even as she said it, a bell started to ring with urgency. 2.35 Contact Bernt stepped into the breakroom with Jori on his shoulder to find it buzzing with activity. Most of the Underkeepers¡¯ mages were there, alongside Glim, Palina and several other guards. The tables along one wall were occupied by Halfbridge¡¯s solicitors. Unlike the guilds or the Underkeepers, they didn¡¯t have a specific style of dress or identifying characteristics. That made sense, he supposed. What warlock would really want to be recognized on sight in the street? There were twelve of them in total, ranging from a lanky teenager, who Bernt supposed must be an apprentice, to a wild-haired old woman who looked more like a homeless person than someone that could bring the wrath of the hells down on her enemies. The kid eyed the goblins in the room nervously, as if he thought they might bite. Most, though, were clean-cut and dressed in the latest styles, like Josie. If he didn¡¯t know better, he would have guessed that they were minor nobles or wealthy merchants. None looked injured, which was impressive considering that most of them should have been at work when their building was brought down on top of them. Then again, Bernt had seen what kinds of healing potions Josie carried around. Ed pointed to a spot on the ward map representing the main access tunnel, not far from the entrance to the Undercity Market. ¡°...f time, but I want to make sure we¡¯re there to greet them properly. You all know what to do, I expect you to coordinate your teams as best you can. Dismissed!¡± Disoriented by the quick reversal, Bernt let himself be swept out of the room and into the courtyard area at the front of the complex. More guards were already massing there, roused from sleep by the bell and still tightening the straps on their armor. Right. Good point. Quickly, Bernt made sure that his own armored robe was fastened properly, and that his wand was secure in his sleeve. Then, he mentally nudged Jori to jump off of his shoulder so he could pull off the bag of holding he always carried with him. He dug out his thorn skin amulet, a small roll of enchanted bandages, a minor healing potion, and his dagger. The scratchy amulet went around his neck and the dagger into a loop on his belt. He stuffed the rest into his pockets. He stuck his hand back into the bag, hoping that maybe he might have another minor healing potion in there, when his fingers brushed across something unfamiliar. Curious, he pulled it out. It was a rock. Why did he have a rock? It wasn¡¯t until he turned it over and saw the circle of runes carved into it that he remembered what it was. He¡¯d bought this on a whim from Grixit a few months earlier and completely forgotten that he had it. The inscribed rune circle could, if activated, briefly open an unstable portal to the elemental plane of fire. It wasn¡¯t a very practical weapon ¨C he couldn¡¯t activate it at a distance and there was no way to avoid collateral damage unless he was in a tunnel, where he could direct the heat perfectly. Even then, he would need a bit of time to set up a temperature barrier. Probably too dangerous to use down here. Reluctantly, he put the stone back in the bag and then stowed it in a corner behind some cleaning supplies. No sense in getting the bag cut up or burned. Then Bernt hurried to join his assigned unit. It was, in effect, his interception team ¨C Kustov, Josie, Glim and a small contingent of guards with a few additions. Jori stayed with him, and another warlock, who introduced himself as Bartholomew joined them as well. The latter was a tall, slim man in his late twenties. He carried a rune-carved staff, marking him as at least a rudimentary sort of mage as well. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s everybody,¡± Kustov said as a few more guards, including Nirlig and Torvald, fell into line with the others. ¡°We¡¯ve been assigned to the lower flanking position. Our job is purely offensive ¨C at least that¡¯s the idea. Ed and his team will contain the enemy and block the way up, while we cover the bottom and do our best to make sure that they don¡¯t have time to deliver whatever surprises they have planned for us. If that fails, we retreat back to the primary defensive line at the market entrance.¡± As they began marching out the door, Bernt got up close next to Kustov and tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Why isn¡¯t the military back here?¡± he asked. The question had been bothering him from the moment he¡¯d heard the alarm. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t they be intercepting this?¡± Kustov made a noncommittal noise. ¡°We sent messages nearly half an hour ago, but they haven¡¯t responded. The head warlock fellow said they¡¯re fighting. It¡¯s up to us, this time.¡± *** The entrance to the Undercity Market, previously wide enough to easily allow two carts to pass by each other without slowing pedestrian traffic, had been fortified. It was now barely wider than a common doorway. Someone, probably Kustov, had mostly blocked the tunnel off in the last few hours, pulling the walls inward to make a funnel shape. Next to the main tunnel entrance, Bernt saw several narrow passages, barely wide enough for a single person. Yarrod scrambled into one of these as they passed and Bernt thought he recognized Rindle coming out of another on the other side. Kustov led their unit through, into the main tunnel and up a short distance. Keeping his eyes peeled, Bernt still nearly missed the arrow slits in the corners at the tunnel floor and ceiling. Putting his hand to the stone wall, Kustov stopped and cast a spell of some sort, then moved a few steps and did it again. Nodding to himself, he planted his hammer on the ground in front of him. As other Underkeepers, led by Ed and Dayle, made their way past, the stone at the dwarf¡¯s feet rose up in front of them in a section more than a foot thick. It stopped just under Kustov¡¯s shoulders, roughly at Bernt¡¯s midsection. It didn¡¯t block the tunnel completely ¨C the others would need to be able to get by ¨C but it would provide them some cover. ¡°Alright. I want our spears up against the wall. Keep your weapons pointed at the enemy and keep them off of the casters. Torvald, Josie, you¡¯re with me on the end here. Bernt, Jori, I want you two up against the tunnel wall. Don¡¯t wait for instructions, just burn them when they come.¡± In the time it took Bernt and the others to get into position, the tunnel in front of them had been transformed. Ed and Dayle had expanded the tunnel directly in front of them, widening it into a chamber of sorts to give themselves more room to work with ¨C neither of them were slouches when it came to earth magic, even if they weren¡¯t on Kustov¡¯s level. The dwarf hadn¡¯t stopped casting, either. Completely unfamiliar runes formed along the top of the wall in front of them, followed by a braided double line of even more runes that carved themselves into the floor in a semicircle in front of their wall. That showed where Kustov expected the enemy to break through ¨C barely three steps in front of him. Bernt knew that Silvercrag Hall ¨C Kustov¡¯s home city ¨C was famous for its rune work, but he¡¯d never really considered the combat applications of the practice. Runecarving was normally a slow process. They had to be shaped properly and spaced just right to work. Seeing this, though, the dwarf might be able to compete with some abjurers. Sure, Janus could do more and faster, but the gnome was an archmage. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Bernt drew his wand from his sleeve, holding it tightly in his left hand as he looked around apprehensively. With a crack, Dayle cast a spell that shattered and churned the stone floor of their killing field, kicking up dust and fouling the footing in front of them. A moment later, Kustov compounded the effect by causing shards of what looked like volcanic glass to erupt from the sundered rocks. Ed and Fiora cast force barriers to provide better defensive cover. While they could have put up a wall of their own, they opted for a simple trench instead, courtesy of Dayle. The force barriers wouldn¡¯t hold very long if they didn¡¯t maintain the spells actively ¨C the enemy must be close. He needed to focus. Concentrating, Bernt raised a one-way temperature barrier, first in front of Ed¡¯s unit and then another along Kustov¡¯s wall in front of them. He held the wand in his left hand, even though he suspected that the barrier would be stronger with the influence of his sorcerous investiture. The problem was that it might then also interfere with spells cast through it in both directions ¨C not the sort of thing he should experiment with in a situation like this. By the time he finished the spells, he could feel a soft rumble in the stone beneath his feet. A moment later, the tunnel wall simply fell in toward them, revealing massive, gleaming claws and a star-shaped nose. With a shriek, Jori flung a fistful of hellfire at the beast. The mole made a low, rumbling squawk and flinched back. Then the wall next to it exploded outward into the tunnel. Rocks as big as Bernt¡¯s head bounced off of Ed and Fiora¡¯s barriers and filled the tunnels with dust. He didn¡¯t wait to see what had done it. With his left hand, Bernt cast banefire and sent it into the gloom. At the same time, he poured unshaped mana into his right hand. Shaped into a spell by his sorcerous investiture, it naturally also incorporated the effects of his first, producing a liquid version of the perpetual flame that pooled in his palm as white fire. He flung the burning plasma as quickly as he could create it, oddly reminiscent of the way Jori cast her hellfire. To his right, he could see magic missiles flying in from Fiora. Shouts and massive sounds of impact all around came out of the gloom. All at once, the dust cohered into clumps and fell like rain, revealing a scene of utter mayhem. The massive mole lay dead, only its head emerging into the main tunnel. The breach was a wide, ragged hole, and armored grayish-skinned dwarves pressed in toward them. There were bodies on the ground, some of them crushed, while others were horribly burned. A hollow, inhuman shriek interrupted his casting and, for a moment, everything stopped. It was like Josie¡¯s ability, but it wasn¡¯t her. The warlock was standing next to Kustov, her hands over her ears. The other one, Bartholomew, looked just as rattled as everyone else. This had to have been an enemy warlock. Only then did Bernt realize that, while the sound was very unpleasant, he wasn¡¯t being overwhelmed by horrible memories. Were Kustov''s wards that good? With an overhand motion he threw more white fire into the mass of dwarves with his right hand and began to cast another fireball with his left. Just as he finished casting, Jori slung hellfire into the mass of dwarves from his right shoulder. Neither of their attacks landed. A dwarf raised a hand with a look of concentration, and both of their spells splashed against an invisible barrier and dissipated. Only then did Bernt realize he was wearing some kind of robe under his ill-fitting armor. Before Bernt even had a chance to feel frustrated, the enemy mage and those nearest to him disappeared in a small avalanche of falling rock ¨C most likely courtesy of Kustov or Dayle. A force shield appeared over the breach, and for a moment Bernt thought that the duergar had decided to go on the defensive. That was when he noticed the look of intense concentration on Fiora, and the fact that Ed was using his pipe to trace a lot of runes into the air. The tunnel shook with bone-rattling force. The dwarves on the far side of Fiora¡¯s barrier that he could see were dead, lying in crumpled heaps that bled from every orifice. That left just a small group in the tunnel with them. Bernt whooped and threw another handful of white plasma at the enemy as began to cast another fireball with his left. ¡°Down!¡± Bernt heard someone shout. Then something smacked him in the face. *** Bernt stared up at the tunnel ceiling, trying to remember what it was that he was supposed to be doing. It was important. Urgent, even. There were people shouting nearby. Fighting. They were fighting. He¡¯d been hit with something. His head hurt. That was bad. Head injuries were dangerous, and it was hard to tell how serious they were. He needed to take his potion. Bernt was fumbling at his belt for it when he finally realized that something was tugging at his other arm. It was Jori ¨C he could feel her concern leaking through their bond. She was worried about him. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said. ¡°Come on, we need to go help.¡± He plucked the seal off of the minor healing potion and downed it. It wouldn¡¯t do very much right away, but at least he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about bleeding into his brain. He wasn¡¯t the only one who¡¯d been hit. A few of the guards were down, but Josie was already checking on them. Not stopping, Bernt got back into position. The tunnel was filling with duergar again, but this time there was a massive hellhound as well. They¡¯d reached the defenders, who were engaging them directly now. Spells weren¡¯t just flying in toward the attackers anymore, either. Fire, magic missiles, and less familiar looking spell projectiles flew from both directions. Ed, by the looks of it, was stopping the bulk of the enemy attacks with multiple force shields, but he wasn¡¯t having an easy time. There was no telling exactly what the duergar had, but it was clear that they¡¯d brought quite a few mages of their own to complement the physical fighters and warlocks that the Underkeepers were more used to dealing with. Bernt focused on the hellhound and flung a bolt of banefire at it, following it up with more white fire from his right. A dwarf stepped in front of the banefire, raising a hand to cast a protective barrier in front of herself. The banefire splashed against it harmlessly, saving the demon, but the perpetual flame punched through as though it weren¡¯t there. The small handful of plasma struck her arm, mostly spattering onto her armor. She tried to shake it off, getting some of it onto her robes. As soon as it touched the cloth, it flared brightly, feeding on the enchantments layered into it. She shouted in surprise and tried to cast something, but it was too late. The mage went down with a scream, writhing in pain and terror. Bernt watched in horrified fascination, unable to look away as the screams cut off and she shook violently. Fire poured from her mouth as the flames consumed her from within in seconds. He''d ignited the mana inside her channels. He would need to name this spell ¨C his version of it, anyway. ¡°Perpetual flame¡± wasn¡¯t adequate for¡­ that. Shaking off the gruesome sight, he prepared another banefire spell for the hellhound. Before he could cast it, though, the demon was struck from another angle by the same spell. It went down with an agonized howl. Confused, Bernt looked to find the caster ¨C who had learned his spell? On the other side of the killing field, Dayle waggled his eyebrows at him. Really? Dayle hated pyromancy! But there was no time to think about it now. It was getting too hot. Even if he kept renewing the heat barriers, they wouldn¡¯t be able to keep this up for long. 2.36 The Battle of Halfbridge 1 Bernt was stunned by the sheer amount of magic being flung around in such a small space. Enemy mages and warlocks tried to hammer through their defenses with force, fire, and lightning, but nothing penetrated. The lightning was drawn down into Kustov¡¯s runes, the fire splashed against Bernt¡¯s heat barriers, and the force was countered directly by Ed. While the archmage held his position, the duergar troops couldn¡¯t advance, hemmed in by his magic. Only Bernt¡¯s perpetual flame could cut through the noise, burning through magical barriers as if they were dry tinder. It didn¡¯t go out, either. Small white fires burned on corpses all around the room, occasionally interfering with spells that passed by too closely and getting in the attackers¡® way. After taking out two more enemy mages and a few fighters who had apparently been wearing heavily enchanted armor, his and Jori¡¯s fires were beginning to take their toll. The tunnel was starting to get too hot, despite the heat barriers he¡¯d cast and recast to protect them. As the battle progressed, the heat circulated around the barriers and began to radiate from the walls themselves. In the end, it forced them back. Bernt extinguished his own flames reluctantly with an effort of will, but the temperature kept rising even after Bernt stopped adding to the problem to focus entirely on shielding himself and his fellow Underkeepers. The enemy warlocks threw hellfire around as if collateral damage wasn¡¯t an issue. The Duergar didn¡¯t seem to be affected ¨C maybe they had heat resistance potions or some other kind of protection from ambient heat. But that didn¡¯t matter now. They needed to back up. Ed¡¯s unit had been blocking the upward end of the tunnel that led toward the surface. They¡¯d been exposed to the worst of the heat, and were forced to move first. They filtered around Kustov¡¯s wall, heading down toward their defenses at the Undercity Market and leaving the way out to the surface clear. Ed, Fiora and Dayle stayed behind, covering their retreat as best they could. They were already backing up when the tunnel wall crumbled once again near their original position. A mole¡¯s weird snout emerged and then withdrew, replaced a moment later by an armored duergar who stepped into the tunnel, shouting something down to the combatants and lifting an odd contraption in his hands and training it on them. Kustov cursed and slammed his hammer down on the ground. The tunnel shook and rocks rained down from the ceiling up ahead, forcing the duergar to move and ruining his aim. The area they stood in was entirely unaffected. That seemed to surprise Kustov as much as it did Bernt, and he hesitated for a moment before shouting at the other mages. ¡°Move it! They¡¯ve got your flank!¡± They didn¡¯t need to be told. Moments later, they were backing down the tunnel in a fighting retreat, with Ed, Kustov and Bernt providing the rearguard. Ed maintained his powerful force shield to physically hold the enemy as well as most of their attacks back while Bernt blocked incoming fire and heat. Unlike Ed, who could move his force shield as he walked, Bernt¡¯s temperature barrier was static and he had to recast it every ten seconds or so to keep it ahead of the advancing enemy. Kustov, for his part, was constantly casting to counter whatever the enemy¡¯s geomancers were doing to get around them. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how good duergar geomancers were, but Kustov was better. Every so often, a tunnel wall would start to shift, or a crack would form in the ceiling, but the dwarf was always on it before it could get any worse than that. Stone resealed, shaking quieted, and bands of runes appeared on the walls and ceiling to redirect further spells meant to reshape them. Runes carved into stone would only do the job once or twice against a skilled geomancer, but it was still impressive. Bernt stepped on something soft and he spared a quick glance down. There was moss growing on the stone floor. The tunnel walls were covered in thick vines that looked nearly black, with dark green, red-veined leaves. Rindle¡¯s work, Bernt guessed. As they continued their retreat, the attacks suddenly lessened, and then stopped entirely. ¡°Quickly! Get inside!¡± Someone called. It was coming from the walls ¨C one of the defensive slits. ¡°Back up and seal everything!¡± Someone else shouted. Bernt coughed. Some of the vines further up the tunnel were smoking. That was strange, He hadn¡¯t cast any fire spells. But no, wait. The duergar had mages and warlocks, too. Bernt laughed. Why was that so funny? He made it through the door, followed by Ed and then Kustov. As soon as they were through, the dwarf set the head of his hammer down, clearly casting something, though he didn¡¯t move his hands to do so. One side of the tunnel began to shift, closing the narrow gap like a gigantic stone door. A moment before the crack sealed, one of the solicitors ¨C a prim-looking man who had gone bald prematurely ¨C slung hellfire out into the tunnel with an unnecessary flourish of his wrist. A moment later, both sides met and melted together to create a smooth, unbroken surface. ¡°That should keep them busy for a little while.¡± He grinned and winked at Josie, who was standing nearby, catching her breath along with the rest of their unit. She nodded tiredly and didn¡¯t respond. Bernt hadn¡¯t seen her fight, but she had blood running down her arms. It looked too vivid. Why was it so red? A moment later, Bernt realized that he was sitting on the ground. That wasn¡¯t right. He looked up to ask Ed what was going on, but the archmage was looking a little green around the gills himself. Kustov cursed loudly. ¡°Where is that witch?¡± the dwarf grumbled. ¡°Godsdamned druids. Has anyone seen Lin? I¡¯ve got a job for her!¡± *** Bernt obediently sipped on the concoction that Lin had made for him and kept his mouth shut as Ed and Kustov got the latest update from Palina. Ed didn¡¯t seem to be affected by the smoke in the same way as him, though he didn¡¯t look like he was enjoying it, either. The archmage held a cup of the same remedy. He looked as though he might throw it back up at any moment and Bernt suspected he only drank it because Lin was sitting there watching him. ¡°About four hundred people have made it down from that little Crafters¡¯ District stairwell so far.¡± Palina was saying. ¡°They¡¯re being funneled into the empty portions of the neighborhoods first ¨C so far the dwarven and the crafters¡¯ quarter has managed to accommodate everyone. It''s slow going ¨C they destroyed a building next to the stairwell with some kind of artillery spell just as I was leaving. They''re digging it out now. It''s not all bad, though ¨C it''ll convince people to evacuate. We expect things to speed up in a few minutes. Last that we heard, the guilds were mobilizing to take a defensive posture at the Undercity Gate, but I doubt they''ll be able to bottle them up that easily. The Paladins¡¯ Hall is closest, and I can¡¯t imagine that they would ignore this, but It¡¯ll still be a mess. Besides, I¡¯ve seen berserkers fight before, and a lot of adventurers aren¡¯t any better. The collateral damage alone...¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°How many can we take?¡± Ed asked, looking at Kustov. The dwarf shrugged. ¡°Space isn¡¯t really an issue. With Janus to help, we managed enough room to house maybe six thousand people. Temporarily, the space can hold three times that, enough for the entire city ¨C not that we have time to evacuate everyone. Ventilation would also be an issue. We¡¯ve got pretty good systems in place, but it¡¯s not designed to handle that many people. Still, it¡¯s nothing to worry about in the immediate term. We can take everyone who can make it down here.¡± Ed nodded. ¡°Good. Is there any word on what¡¯s going on with Arice? The army should have been here by now. Even if they¡¯re fighting, they can¡¯t afford to have the enemy in their rear.¡± Palina shook her head. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard anything. Either the dwarves broke through, or maybe they intercepted our messenger.¡± In the silence that followed, Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°So. What exactly was that in the tunnel? With the vines, I mean.¡± ¡°Rindle¡¯s idea!¡± Lin said proudly, as if he were her own son. ¡°Very clever. It is an intoxicant, use it sometimes for medicine to help pain. It has side effects.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great.¡± Bernt said, impressed. ¡°So, when the vines got burned, everyone in the tunnel was dosed, and since it slopes upward, they got the worst of it. Does it work against demons?¡± Lin shrugged. ¡°It is hard to say. The dark spirits are not like us.¡± ¡°Whatever the case, it doesn¡¯t look like they want to try knocking on our door for the time being.¡± Palina said. ¡°They¡¯re probably happy to leave us bottled up here, anyway. They¡¯re trying to get into the soft underbelly of the city before anyone can stop them, and that¡¯s not here.¡± Ed grimaced. ¡°Nothing to do but hope that they have their end covered up there.¡± *** Iriala watched as the Duergar poured out of the Undercity Gate. She was sitting in her office, but her glasses provided her a top-down view of the entire Crafters'' District. She could see that the defenders weren''t quite in position, yet. How had they made it into the city so quickly? The duergar had broken into the main access tunnel somehow, between the Undercity and the army. Doing so without prematurely tripping any wards would have required some creative tunneling, but they''d done it. Still, Ed''s people should have been able to hold them longer than this. She scried the tunnel down to the Undercity and found it filled with Duergar. There were some bodies, but most of those were Duergar ¡ª nothing like an Underkeeper rout. It looked like the Underkeepers were bottled up below, safe for the moment. What had forced them back? Switching back to the Crafters¡¯ District, Iriala''s eyes widened in surprise at what she found. Nearly a quarter of the district was already burning. The enemy was in the streets, setting fire to buildings and trying to penetrate the haphazard barricades the defenders were building on the fly wherever they could. For now, though, it looked like they''d managed to respond quickly enough to keep the enemy somewhat contained, thanks in no small part to her efforts in coordinating their initial deployment. Righmond and his guards were still on the wall, which she supposed was just as well. They needed to be wary of an external assault complicating the situation further, and she certainly didn¡¯t want him down here making a mess of her work. She had enough worries. As she monitored the battle, Iriala noted that the duergar¡¯s rapid advance into the city had made them vulnerable. While they were far more disciplined and better armed than the kobolds had been a few months before, the guilds were prepared and mostly ready to face them. Experienced parties of adventurers held individual streets and alleyways, backed up by paladins, berserkers, and mages. Rangers hid on rooftops, taking out enemy mages, warlocks and anyone who looked like they might be an officer. The duergar were taking losses, and Iriala could see that communication between the enemy units was breaking down in some cases, with some overextending themselves and paying the price. Other times, though, the duergar were hiding surprises ¨C hidden war mages, warlocks with unfamiliar abilities, alchemical weapons. They were taking losses. Then Iriala saw something new. It came rolling out of the Undercity Gate in a cart hauled by a hellhound of all things. The rough, unworked crystal loaded on it must have weighed as much as the cart itself. She didn¡¯t recognize what it was at first, but the nine robed figures walking alongside it were a pretty clear hint. She wasn¡¯t really sure why warlocks were so obsessed with that number. There were nine hells, supposedly ¨C but they could only interact with the denizens of five of them. As far as she knew, a demon of the sixth hell had only been summoned once, on the isle of Harrowick, to the sorrow of all who lived there. Regardless, a lot of warlock rituals required exactly nine participants. They unhitched the cart and took up positions in a precise circle around it before raising their hands to chant something. Iriala wasn¡¯t sure what kind of ritual this was, but it couldn¡¯t be good. Sure enough, a light ignited inside the stone just a moment later, flaring briefly, then again and again in an unpredictable rhythm. She recognized the crystal, once it was lit from within like that. It was a gigantic soulstone, collecting souls as people died ¨C probably their own as well as those of the people living here. Iriala gestured to one of the messengers she had lined up, even as she searched for Ambrose in the streets, adjusting the scrying spell in her glasses as quickly as someone flipping through the pages of a book. Ignoring the various other small emergencies she saw, she finally found the colossal man rescuing a team of adventurers that had gotten itself surrounded. They had lost their healer to a hellhound and been cut off when they tried to retreat. The duergar were closing in. An experienced adventuring party wasn¡¯t easy prey in any situation, but surrounded, the dwarves had them dead to rights. Then Ambrose entered the fray, diving headlong into the contingent that had cut the party off. The usually even-tempered man was screaming, though Iriala couldn¡¯t hear it, and spittle flew from his mouth in a froth. A heavily armored dwarf moved forward to intercept him, holding a heavily rune-engraved shield and a one-handed axe. It didn¡¯t help. Quicker than a snake, Ambrose ripped the shield away from the dwarf, arm still attached, and rammed its edge straight through his armor and into his chest as though it were made of paper. In seconds, the entire contingent was down and Ambrose was moving in on the pursuing group. It happened so quickly that it was difficult to process just what he¡¯d done. Their bodies were crushed. Blood and worse leaked out of what was left of their armor and dripped from the walls of nearby houses. But it was war, and the enemy had brought monsters of their own. Iriala turned to the messenger. ¡°Message to Branchmaster Ambrose on Tailors¡¯ Lane, moving toward Marin¡¯s Bakery. The enemy has a device that needs to be destroyed at the Undercity Gate, can¡¯t miss it. Tell anyone who looks important that you see on the way. Go!¡± Radast had warned them something like this was going to happen, but seeing it was something else. If this Nuros actually managed to become a greater demon, Besermark¡¯s tribulations were only just beginning. Iriala couldn¡¯t allow that to happen. 2.37 The Battle of Halfbridge 2 By the time Bernt felt like himself again, hundreds of evacuees were streaming through the Undercity Market, heading from the Crafter¡¯s Quarter into the entrance to a small shop on the periphery of the Market under the direction of the Underkeeper Guards. It was not a small shop, considering that Bernt had already watched at least two hundred people disappear inside. He didn''t know the details of what Kustov had been doing with Janus, but it was clear that they''d been preparing a place for people to evacuate to. Maybe it was just a kind of bunker, but the way he''d talked about it, he''d made it sound like he was expanding the Undercity''s capacity for permanent residents. When he and Josie had brought their concerns to Ed, the archmage had decided to take measures to better shelter the people of the city. But was that all he was doing? It made Bernt wonder just how calculating Ed was. At face value, Ed always seemed like a straightforward kind of person, but he''d been a high-ranking officer in the military before he was an Underkeeper, and he was an archmage. Was he using this as a way to angle for more influence? Whatever the case, they¡¯d decided to fill the older parts of the Undercity first, most likely because they were more comfortable and better developed. The dwarf responsible for the project was busily warding the entrance that he¡¯d sealed minutes earlier with runes even as Lin painted something different on it with a sludgy mixture that she¡¯d ground together moments before. Her script was completely unfamiliar to Bernt, made up of clusters of short lines at various lengths and angles that all branched off of a single ¡°root¡± line that ran horizontally under Kustov¡¯s runes. He watched with interest, trying to get a sense for it. Goblins, as far as he knew, weren¡¯t supposed to have a written language, but that was obviously what she was doing. He looked around. The warlocks, including Josie, had withdrawn into the Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters, claiming that they needed to perform some rituals of their own to prepare, in case they were drawn into a proper fight. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure exactly what they might be doing, but he supposed there would be a reason they didn¡¯t do it out here where everyone could see. Most of the Underkeepers were standing or sitting nearby ¨C they needed to be here in case the enemy broke through. Despite the seriousness of the larger situation, he had to smile as Jori scrambled up one of the massive pillars that held up the cavern ceiling and flung herself into the air. She spread her wings, swooping past Nirlig and a small group of goblins and flung little sparks of hellfire out to both sides to cheers and a smattering of applause. Wandering over to Lin and Kustov, he waited until the witch lifted her brush from the stone to dip it back into her odd writing mixture. ¡°Is that a type of rune script?¡± he asked her. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like anything I¡¯ve seen in a spellform.¡± ¡°No, no,¡± Lin said with a dry laugh. ¡°This is not a ward. It is praying. Plant ink here is to make connection with a spirit ¨C a clan spirit. Old patron, you say maybe. The shamans teach them the signs and they help us, when they are willing.¡± Kustov, having finished with his rune warding, was studying the old goblin¡¯s markings with interest now as well. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had your own system of writing. I thought goblins didn¡¯t have books at all.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± Lin sniffed indignantly. ¡°Books are for people with tiny heads.¡± She mimed a small head on her shoulders. ¡°Writing is sacred, not for foolish children who cannot remember their songs.¡± Kustov looked very interested now. ¡°Really? And you can use it to direct a natural spirit? Do you think you could teach me?¡± ¡°No,¡± she said bluntly and turned back to her work. ¡°It is not for you.¡± *** Bernt¡¯s stomach was starting to growl. It hadn¡¯t been that long since they sealed the main tunnel ¨C maybe an hour or so, but he hadn¡¯t eaten anything since he¡¯d come down from the surface several hours before that. He¡¯d found a semi-private corner behind a massive pillar to practice his casting again, but he could still hear the dull roar of conversation nearby ¨C he would know if something happened. Determined to find something to eat, Bernt stood up and stretched his legs. He doubted he was going to make any more progress today, anyway. Besides, he couldn¡¯t afford to wear out his concentration too much if they were going to fight again. If they were lucky, the army would come knocking on their door, soon. All things considered, it was better to plan for the worst. As he rounded the pillar, though, he saw that something was happening. The trickle of evacuees had dried up, and the warlocks were back and performing some kind of ritual out where everyone could see. Each one carried a container of some kind, ranging from buckets to leather skins, and was using the contents to paint on the floor with brushes and rags. Bernt found Josie in the crowd of people working a short distance away and approached her. He had to pass by another warlock on the way and saw that the black liquid was oddly foamy and smelled awful. Josie had a large bucket ¨C probably from the Underkeepers¡¯ janitorial closet, and held a brush in one hand, with which she drew an enormous circle on the ground. She was using a string as a guide, which was pinned under Radast¡¯s foot. The head solicitor stood at the center of the large pattern directing the efforts of his people, while the remaining warlocks drew complex patterns inside the circle. ¡°What is that?¡± Bernt asked when he reached her. ¡°It smells disgusting.¡± Josie looked up and grinned wolfishly. ¡°It¡¯s demon blood. We¡¯re setting up a mass banishment ritual. If they break through here, we should be able to clear out a lot of the demons before they can get into any of the neighborhoods down here." Bernt stared at her uncomprehendingly. He knew that not all demons had burning blood like Jori did. Josie¡¯s midnight hag didn¡¯t seem to have any association with hellfire, and shades weren¡¯t corporeal at all. But that still left an important question ¡°Which demon did you get that much blood from?¡± ¡°Which do you think?¡± She laughed. ¡°If you want to banish a demon, the best way to do it is to use their own hierarchies against them. We got the blood from Varamemnon.¡± Bernt choked. ¡°You bled a greater demon in the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters? How?!¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. At Bernt¡¯s outburst, a few nearby Underkeepers turned to look and he gave them a placating wave. ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± Josie said defensively and lowered her voice. ¡°It was perfectly safe. Mostly. We summoned the blood directly.¡± ¡°What do you mean ¡®mostly¡¯?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°It¡¯s completely safe!¡± she corrected herself. ¡°The ritual is just a modified version of a demon summoning, but instead of the entire demon, you just bring over a bit of it and let it bleed. It¡¯s only dangerous if you summon the majority of its mass ¨C then it might regenerate the missing bits, and you get an entire demon. The bigger the demon, the safer it is to summon a good-sized chunk of it.¡± Bernt eyed the bucket, and then looked around at all the other containers. There had to be enough here to fill a small barrel. ¡°Does that mean you injured him?¡± he asked. ¡°Over in the hells, I mean. If you can just split a demon in half with a ritual from over here, why don¡¯t warlocks just do that to get rid of all the most dangerous ones?¡± Josie laughed. ¡°Because it doesn¡¯t work. We¡¯re not really taking away a part of them on their own plane. We¡¯re manifesting them in our reality. It¡¯s more like an exact copy, rather than their original self. Unless their consciousness came over with it, I don¡¯t think they would even notice. Besides, I''m pretty sure Varamemnon is enormous.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Bernt said, chagrined. He supposed that, if it was that easy, someone would have done it a long time ago already. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s going to work?¡± ¡°Solicitor Radast knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± The warlock said confidently. ¡°You don¡¯t become a Head Solicitor at a major office like ours just by luck or circumstance.¡± *** Iriala leaned out of her window and cast a magic missile, carefully modifying the spellform as she shaped it to give the projectile a much longer range. It shot off toward a streetcorner, taking the head off of a duergar officer just as he poked his head around the side of a building. ¡°Who do we have?¡± Iriala asked Nole, the guild¡¯s receptionist. She¡¯d sent nearly everyone to assist in the main battle. The guild forces were currently pushing the duergar advance back with brutal efficiency and the duergar were retreating back down toward the Undercity Gate ¨C unfortunately in relatively good order. They¡¯d even managed to bog down Ambrose using an entire team of enhanced fighters of some kind that she wasn¡¯t familiar with, though they hadn¡¯t managed to actually injure him yet. She wanted to think they were winning, but she suspected that the enemy had gotten what they came for. She¡¯d lost colleagues and friends today already, and the other guilds weren¡¯t doing any better. The duergar had a way of pulling out surprises at the worst possible moments. Ironically, the simple ones were the worst. One of their warlocks had begun lobbing fire over an inner wall into the Lower District ¨C into a neighborhood that they hadn¡¯t managed to evacuate. She had a pyromancer and a hydromancer on it, but it was already too late for hundreds of civilians and the fire wasn''t under control, yet. Those who remained at the guild tower were too old or too unpracticed to put in the path of demons and rampaging soldiers. It was her own godsdamned fault. She hadn¡¯t been watching the walls. That was Righmond¡¯s job. They still hadn¡¯t been breached, for that matter ¨C it was the first thing she¡¯d checked when she realized that a group of nearly fifty Duergar was rampaging inward from the western walls. A teleport spell, most likely, and a very sophisticated one to have gotten through their wards. ¡°There''s the two of us,¡± Nole replied as he leaned out of the window next to hers to get a better look, ¡°and perhaps one or two of the engineers.¡± He raised his wand and sent a bolt of green lightning at the advancing duergar with a crack. Seeing him appear, one of them lifted a staff, and the spell was redirected to strike it instead, shooting out of the bottom to disperse into the ground. Iriala cursed herself as she sent another magic missile into the street without looking and ripped a hellhound in half. This was what she got for turning her back to Righmond¡¯s incompetence! She was an archmage, yes, but she was also a diviner. While nobody in their right mind would challenge her to a duel, there was a limit to how much large-scale destruction she could wreak. Nole was an accomplished duelist, but similarly ill-suited to this kind of fight. ¡°I hear fighting!¡± A reedy but energetic voice said from the door. Iriala looked behind her to find Pollock standing there, his hair and robes looking mussed as if he''d just rise from a nap. ¡°Oh good, is it right out there? Why did nobody call me?¡± He shuffled toward them with his slow, geriatric gait. Something, probably a force spell, bounced off the wards so hard that it sent ripples of color along the invisible barrier that they marked. If that mage down there knew what he was doing they had maybe ten minutes before he figured out how to get through. The wards weren¡¯t really meant to keep people out so much as offensive spells. They could do it, but not forever. Iriala held up a hand, ¡°You¡¯re not in any condition to fight a battle, magister. You can barely walk unaided!¡± Pollock harrumphed indignantly in the way that only genuinely old people could. ¡°I¡¯m not a berserker, girl, I¡¯m a pyromancer. Get out of my way!¡± He tugged feebly at her sleeve and, after a moment¡¯s consideration, she relented. Pollock really was the right person for this situation, or he would have been twenty years ago. The man¡¯s true calling was as an academic, sure, but he was also one of the most dangerous people in this city. The old man poked his head out of the window. ¡°They have an abjurer down there,¡± Iriala filled him in. ¡°Other than that, it looks like maybe an arcanist, a few specialized fighters, fire demons and probably some warlocks. It¡¯s hard to tell them apart.¡± Without tracing so much as a central rune, Pollock hurled a familiar-looking grayish fireball down, followed half a second later by another. The abjurer below raised his staff again and caught one, but the other struck home, taking an unfamiliar humanoid demon with goat legs in the chest. The flames bored a hole straight through and the creature collapsed. ¡°Well,¡± Pollock said, leaning back into the room with a grin. ¡°Not bad! I would say the boy did alright with that spell, wouldn''t you? Still, no sense in letting them go to waste.¡± Drawing a gnarled looking wand from his belt, he leaned back out the window and began casting something. He took his time about it, nearly three seconds, before Iriala saw what he was doing. One of the hellhounds standing near the back of the group made a loud hissing sound, entirely unlike the massive dogs that the creatures resembled. Then it rose into the air, and tilted oddly on its axis as the hiss intensified into a high-pitched scream. A moment later, the creature started glowing, and then it melted into a ball of roiling flames. Someone shouted below, but it was too late to run. There was a sound like thunder and Iriala had to back up and raise a hand to block the light and heat that radiated up from the street. Nole stared at the old man, his mouth hanging wide open. He was probably trying to calculate just how much mana the old man would have had to channel to create that much heat. It was a pointless exercise ¨C Iriala already knew he¡¯d cheated. ¡°Everyone always forgets that a lot of these third-hell demons are practically made of fire.¡± Pollock commented to him in a lecturing tone. ¡°Good stuff, too.¡± He looked as if he was about to continue, but interrupted himself as he caught sight of something in the street. ¡°Hey! I missed one!¡± Iriala looked. The ruins left by the duergar bomber across the street were now well and truly gone. Heat radiated up from the street with such intensity that Iriala could feel it toasting her face three stories up. But, sure enough, the duergar abjurer was still standing there, safe on a small circular patch of unburnt ground. He certainly looked rattled, though. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him,¡± she said. ¡°I think I¡¯d like to ask him a few questions.¡± 2.38 The Battle of Halfbridge 3 ¡°Incoming!¡± shouted a goblin¡¯s voice. Bernt turned to look just in time to see Rindle come running from one of the small side tunnels. ¡°They got the vines,¡± he called, looking dismayed. ¡°They just withered away!¡± ¡°Form up!¡± Glim bawled. ¡°Keep them bottled up in the tunnel if they break through. Somebody get inside and sound the alarm.¡± ¡°Kustov, Bernt, Josie, into the tunnels!¡± Fiora called somewhere behind Bernt. ¡°We¡¯ll slow them down as much as we can.¡± Bernt complied without a thought, running up to the tunnel that Rindle had just come out of. He slowed unconsciously for a second to allow Jori to stick the landing on his shoulder as she dove down from a pillar. Behind him, he heard more shouts as the defenders worked to get themselves into position. As he ducked into the tunnel, he could hear the bell in the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters start to ring with urgency. It was a narrow passage that rose at a shallow angle, barely as wide as his shoulders and he had to shuffle through sideways at an awkward angle. Fortunately, it wasn¡¯t long. In seconds, he arrived at a narrow horizontal slit, barely wide enough to slip a hand through. His view was partly obscured by a shriveled vine that had grown across it, but he could clearly see the column of dwarves standing below him. They looked fresh, with gleaming, polished armor and armed with identical one-handed axes and shields. At the front, Bernt could just make out a few dwarves carrying staves ¨C mages of some kind. It still seemed odd to Bernt that they wore the same armor as the regular soldiers. He supposed it was logical, but it still felt wrong. Mages weren¡¯t normal soldiers, so why would they dress the same? Only on closer inspection did he realize that they did wear robes ¨C they just wore a coat of mail over them along with a helm, likely to prevent easy identification as much as for direct protection. It didn''t take a genius to guess what what they were dealing with ¨C geomancers. The tunnel was wider in front of them, hemmed in by Kustov¡¯s rune wards, but he could see the stone cracking in front of them and crumbling away. It was slow going, relatively speaking, but they would get through in just a few minutes. ¡°Are you ready?¡± Josie asked from behind him. Bernt turned his head and saw her squeeze in next to him. Jori chirped a greeting at her and she grinned at the demon. ¡°You might want to plug your ears for this part.¡± Bernt just barely managed to clamp his hands over his head as Josie put her mouth right up to the slit and screamed. He shuddered. Muffling the noise helped a little, and this wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d dealt with this particular ability, but it was still an uncomfortable experience. The soldiers below were affected much more strongly, though. Their formation had dissolved, and quite a few of them were sitting down while others shuddered violently. Before Bernt could collect himself enough to act, Jori poured hellfire into the tunnel in a wide, diffuse cone, totally unlike the liquid flames she usually produced. A moment later, the tunnel rumbled and rocks came crashing down from the ceiling ¨C Kustov¡¯s work from his position on the other side of the tunnel. It wasn¡¯t a total collapse, though. Maybe Kustov¡¯s own earlier wards were working against him, or one of the enemy geomancers had managed to counter the stoneweaver. Just to be sure, Bernt cast a fireball toward the geomancers at the front. It was difficult to aim through the narrow slit, but it wouldn¡¯t matter too much. The entire space was filled with enemies. In his haste, he used his right hand to cast the spell, but his hours of practice finally paid off. The spell manifested correctly, burning a merry yellowish orange as it shot down the tunnel. He heard screams. Below he could see more soldiers burn in Jori¡¯s flames, screaming in pain and fear as they were shocked out of their stunned state. His eyes watered as the smell of sulfur and burnt dwarf filled the air. A boom sounded to his left and hot wind pushed into his face from inside the tunnel. Was that Fiora? The tunnel rumbled, and suddenly everything went dark. He could still hear screams, but they were muffled now. It took Bernt a moment to realize what had happened. One of the enemy geomancers had realized what was happening and managed to seal their access points. Raising his left hand, Bernt cast an earth shaping cantrip. Maybe he could simply open it back up. The spell activated, but nothing happened when he tried to push the stone in front of them aside. ¡°It¡¯s dark!¡± Jori said. A stinky, whirling flame formed in the narrow tunnel right next to Bernt¡¯s head and he flinched away from it. ¡°Jori! Put that out, it¡¯s dangerous.¡± ¡°No!¡± the imp said. She was proud of her light spell. Josie looked at the odd light curiously, but didn¡¯t comment. She¡¯d seen enough of Jori¡¯s experimental spells already. Bernt took a small step away from the fire and shook his head irritably, giving up. ¡°They sealed us in! We have to go back and wait for them to break through. I hope Kustov and Fiora had better luck on their end.¡± Bernt seriously doubted that they would be able to seal Kustov out, even if they could keep him from dropping the ceiling down on them. They emerged back out of the tunnel just as a large crack formed across the sealed entrance, bisecting a line of Kustov¡¯s runes. The guards were positioned directly in front, shielded by a powerful force barrier, courtesy of Ed, who stood just inside the warlocks¡¯ banishment ritual directly behind them. The warlocks in question mostly stood at the back ¨C not all of them would be suited to fighting ¨C but three of them were in borrowed Underkeeper armor standing in a semicircle behind the guards together with the remaining spellcasters. One of them was Bartholomew, the same warlock who¡¯d been in the tunnel with Bernt¡¯s unit. Radast himself stood at the center of the circle at the very back, quietly chanting something to himself. The stone began to crumble more quickly as Kustov¡¯s runes were destroyed, one after another. A few seconds later, the damage reached Lin¡¯s script as well and the entire wall began to crumble in toward the defenders. Hurrying behind the front line of guards, Bernt and Josie got themselves out of what was going to become a killing ground in a moment. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Nothing seemed to happen at first, but then a warm sensation brushed across the back of Bernt¡¯s neck so suddenly he flinched. A goblin shouted something in their own language ¨C Bernt thought it sounded like Lin ¨C and then launched into a short chant that she repeated, over and over. The other goblins joined in, and Bernt felt something stir in the air. It was mana, but it wasn¡¯t moving in any way he was familiar with. It was swirling with purpose, forming patterns that he couldn¡¯t quite make out. Many, many patterns. Ambient mana just didn¡¯t do that. The stone crumbled down, and then finally melted away as the enemy geomancers managed to take full control of the substance of the warded wall. The goblins¡¯ chanting reached a fever pitch and Bernt¡¯s hair suddenly stood on end as a slow wind began to swirl around the cavern, mimicking the strange mana flows he¡¯d noticed. Duergar started to march, pushing past their mages who were pressing themselves to the tunnel walls ¨C they didn¡¯t want to be the first ones inside. The moment the first dwarf¡¯s foot crossed the invisible line where the wall had been, the wind gusted forward all at once, flowing around the edges of Ed¡¯s shield and pouring up into the tunnel with a deafening howl. The effect was immediate. Duergar shouted in surprise and fear and some tried to back up, throwing their advance into chaos. As Bernt watched, the skin visible on many of their faces changed color, turning pink and erupting into boils. A few went blind, their eyes turning a sickly shade of off-white as they shouted in panic, only to be pushed down and trampled by their own panicking comrades. ¡°Now!¡± Ed shouted, whipping his pipe forward as he cast what looked like an oversized magic missile. It shot over the defenders¡¯ heads and through the space where the archmage¡¯s force barrier had been a moment before, into the duergar. Hellfire, magic missiles, rocks and some kind of screeching shadow magic that came from Bartholomew followed it alongside Bernt¡¯s own fireball spell. Ed¡¯s spell might have been enough to clear what they could see of the tunnel on its own, but apparently nobody was willing to take a chance in this situation. The tunnel mouth was filled with smoking gore and bits that Bernt absolutely did not want to examine too closely. Before he had a chance to look away, though, an inhuman scream echoed down toward them, followed by a sullen red light. Acting on instinct, Bernt raised his left hand and cast a simple heat barrier as quickly as he could, trying to cover the entire mouth of the tunnel. It was a rushed job, but he managed to activate the spell in just a few seconds, in time to catch the expanding wave of fire that tore down at them. Searing hot air and flames poured around the edges of the barrier, forcing some of the guards to step back and cover their faces. By the time the fire died down, the demons were on them, pouring out in a wave. Hellhounds came first, maybe ten of them, followed by a small army of imps, at least one fiend, and several kinds of demons that Bernt couldn¡¯t identify. They tore into the guards, scattering them just as Ed¡¯s force shield came back up. Too many had already made it through. Within just a few seconds, Bernt saw a goblin and a dwarf guard go down in a spray of hellfire. A moment later, he saw an imp land on a screaming Solicitor¡¯s face, where it proceeded to gouge at her eyes with razor claws. As quickly as he could, Bernt cast banefire directly into the melee. The spell wouldn¡¯t harm the guards ¨C at least no more than a bad sunburn ¨C and it might make all the difference here. On the other side, he saw Dayle follow suit and then Yarrod. Five of the demons went down almost immediately, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Several more guards fell, and the rest were being pushed back. The imps scrambled up the walls, just as Jori liked to do, and dove down at the defenders. As Bernt watched, one landed on Bartholomew¡¯s head and raked savagely at him with its feet. The solicitor went down messily. Every time a guard managed to drive a spear into a hellhound, flames erupted from the ensuing wounds, ruining weapons and forcing the guards back further. Jori screeched at the imps and threw herself toward them, spreading her wings and flinging fire. It took Bernt a moment to realize that she was screaming words. ¡°Xoryath! Maladzhoth! Back off!¡± The imp landed on one of the creatures and almost casually killed it as it tried to sneak up behind Yarrod. ¡°I can help!¡± Bernt wasn¡¯t sure the other imps could even really understand her. Most were smaller than Jori, and seemed to have no access to hellfire. They were mostly like she¡¯d been before the first time she had evolved. A few larger ones hissed at her, glaring, but she paid them no mind, easily dodging as they threw fire her way. Casting banefire one more time, Bernt backed up, trying to stay behind the guards as they retreated from the onslaught. ¡°Back up! Faster!¡± Someone shouted. ¡°Cover the archmage!¡± Ed was retreating slowly and maintaining his shield, which was keeping the enemy contained inside the tunnel for the moment. While the imps harassed the spellcasters on the periphery, the hellhounds drove straight down the center, trying to reach Ed. Backing up further, Bernt stepped inside the warlocks¡¯ banishment circle. Most of the guards were there now, trying to protect Ed and Radast, who stood at the center together. Growing desperate, Bernt flung white plasma at the nearest hellhound. The flames landed, but nothing happened ¨C the creature completely ignored it, diving at a goblin who barely managed to repel it by ramming his spear into its chest. Burning blood spurted and it hissed and backed away, but the thing didn¡¯t go down. How could it ignore the perpetual flame? There wasn¡¯t time to work it out, now. It was getting crowded, and the enemy was closing in. Imps flung themselves fearlessly down on the defenders from the pillars and from the backs of hellhounds as they advanced to terrifying effect even as Jori tried to single-handedly stem the tide. Curiously, none of them attacked her, even going so far as to simply let her kill them in at least one case that Bernt saw. Then an otherworldly voice called out in Beseri. ¡°Minions, heed the call of Varamemnon. Attend me!¡± Everything changed at once. Sullen purple light filled the entire cavern as the demonic blood that the warlocks had painted the floor with burst into ethereal flames. The demons hissed and screamed. Some went mad, thrashing in defiance even as others simply disappeared in puffs of purple fire that then imploded into itself, vanishing just as quickly as the demons themselves. Bernt let out a breath, looking for Radast in the middle of the circle. This had to be him. He didn¡¯t have a clear line of sight to the warlock, but he did see Ed. The archmage was casting something ¨C tracing runes in the air with both hands. Bernt thought later that it must have been something incredibly complex, something to turn all this around. But he never got to cast it. A massive imp flew down out of nowhere and landed on his arm, hissing as hellfire formed in its upraised right fist. The banishment ritual seized it almost instantly, though, and the imp disappeared in a blaze of purple. Quicker than a blink, Ed was dragged up by his arm into¡­ something. A new direction that had opened up in the purple flames for a split second. Just like that, he was gone. Bernt¡¯s heart seized in his chest and he looked around wildly as if expecting the old man to be standing right next to him. But he wasn¡¯t. There was a shout, followed by more voices calling out in an unfamiliar language. Through the dizzying whirl of images coming through his bond to Jori, he caught a glimpse of duergar soldiers streaming into the cavern from a new hole in the wall. Where was it? Bernt couldn¡¯t make sense of Jori¡¯s view, and there was nothing he could do about it right now, regardless. Ed was gone. They were doomed. 2.39 The Battle of Halfbridge 4 Bernt threw a glance back toward the main entrance. Ed¡¯s force barrier was gone and more demons flooded into the cavern, followed by rank upon rank of Duergar soldiers. Many of them carried obvious signs of disease like open sores and boils ¨C whatever Lin had done to them, it wasn¡¯t temporary. A second breach had opened nearby, and more of the gray dwarves poured out from it as well. ¡°Back up! Get inside!¡± Dayle shouted over the din ¨C his magically enhanced voice so loud that it echoed off the walls. All around him, people began to move. Bernt stepped back with them woodenly, still trying to process what he¡¯d just seen. Was Ed dead? Did the big imp manage to drag him into the hells? Was something like that even possible? Spells flew toward the enemy, launched by Dayle, Yarrod, and a few of the surviving warlocks, but nothing landed this time. The enemy had mages of their own, and more than a few warlocks who raised various kinds of barriers to deflect rocks, fire, force, and even shadows. Where was Kustov? What about Fiora? Were they still in their side-tunnel, harassing the duergar as they advanced toward them? Moving quickly, they backed up into the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters, where the remaining guards were already forming up into a new defensive line under Glim¡¯s direction. Most of them didn¡¯t look in any shape to fight, but more guards streamed in from behind Bernt, and he moved out of the way to let them through. Some of the warlocks worked in the back, administering healing potions, while others were armed and standing among the guards. Dayle ran up and down the line barking orders like a general, but he stopped when he saw Yarrrod. ¡°Yarrod, I need you to foul up their geomancers. Can you do that?¡± The gnome nodded calmly, though Bernt noticed that his hands shook a little. Dayle gave him a stern look. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back, now. If they take down this here wall, we¡¯re done!¡± ¡°Good sir, don¡¯t you worry your big head about it.¡± The gnome said, his genteel accent a stark counterpoint to Dayle¡¯s drawl. ¡°I have just the thing to put a burr in their shoe, so long as they don¡¯t realize it¡¯s there, it should slow them down good and proper. If I might borrow your shovel?¡± Dayle looked a little bemused, but then offered the little man his focus. Yarrod examined the spade for a moment before hefting it in both hands and muttering to himself as he scratched at the stone wall in a line. Yarrod, Bernt knew, specialized in modifying fortune and probability. It was an esoteric branch of magic, and one that wasn¡¯t taught at the Mages¡¯ Academy at all. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure exactly how that might help them keep the Duergar geomancers from bringing the walls down, but this wasn¡¯t the time to question the gnome. He hurried toward the double-doors ¨C maybe he could do something to slow down the attackers, at least. Shouts sounded from outside as the last few guards filed in, followed by the clash of arms on armor. There was an odd sucking sound and the wall on Bernt¡¯s right ¨C the one Yarrod hadn¡¯t started carving into, began to melt away right in front of them. Torvald appeared in the remaining half of the doorway, hauling a staggering Palina back behind him. Bernt caught the guardswoman as Torvald leapt back and out of the way of an incoming duergar soldier. Purely by reflex, Bernt flung burning white plasma into the attacker¡¯s face, who reeled back with a shriek. Nausea suddenly twisted in his guts as the stench of burned hair and flesh wafted in his face. ¡°Close ranks!¡± Glim barked, echoed almost simultaneously by Dayle¡¯s order. ¡°Spears down!¡± Half of the outer wall of the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters was virtually gone at this point, exposing them. Torvald looked back at the defenders with a terrified expression, but then his head whipped up as he stared toward something at the ceiling. Bernt looked up, but there was nothing there. His face suddenly firm with resolve, Torvald turned back toward the enemy and threw himself forward, ducking past a duergar soldier¡¯s spear to ram his sword into a hellhound¡¯s side. Fire erupted, but it missed him as he spun out of the way and began to single-handedly cleave his way through the first ranks of the enemy army. One of the duergar warlocks tried to throw hellfire at him, but it missed and struck one of their own instead. Torvald pushed deeper into the enemy, and the enemy shrank back. It wasn¡¯t skill ¨C not just that, anyway. Torvald was good, but he was just a regular person. Or, he had been. Torvald¡¯s sword was on fire, now. It had just happened, a second or so before, when he drew it out of the hellhound. At first, it just looked like hellfire, but then the flames changed color, transitioning from an angry red to a pure, bluish hue. To Jori¡¯s eyes, the entire man had started to glow ominously and she hissed in alarm and shielded her eyes. ¡°Retribution comes,¡± he shouted, ¡°to the wicked who would harm those sheltered in Her hand!¡± Was he quoting scripture? What was happening? Was this what it was supposed to look like when a brand new paladin was chosen? Torvald didn¡¯t even sound winded. Someone pushed past Bernt, breaking him out of his stunned state. It was Nirlig, bleeding from a nasty cut on his face. ¡°Come on, he¡¯s not going to keep that up forever!¡± The goblin ran forward, running his spear into the side of a dwarf who wasn¡¯t even looking their way anymore, too preoccupied by the mad spectacle that Torvald offered. Not to be outdone, Bernt followed and threw white plasma at the nearest staff-carrying mage as he wove together the spellform for banefire with his left hand. Torvald didn¡¯t have to do all the work. Behind him came another goblin, followed by Glim and then Josie with her claws out. The enemy mage struck at the incoming flames with his staff, but only succeeded in splattering it into a thousand liquid droplets that ignited violently along the patterns carved into his staff and armor. ¡°Don¡¯t go too far!¡± Bernt called after Nirlig. ¡°We don¡¯t want to get isolated.¡± All the while, Torvald continued to carve his way through the enemy in a wide loop. He hadn¡¯t stopped quoting scripture, and Bernt would have thought it was silly in any other situation. Here it seemed¡­ strangely appropriate. He should have gotten bogged down and killed immediately, running directly into the enemy army like that. But he didn¡¯t. They cringed back from him hesitantly, sensing that something was wrong even as Torvald moved through them as if following a well-practiced dance. A few enemy spellcasters threw force, fire, and stone at him, but they couldn¡¯t seem to hit him and stopped, realizing they were just injuring their own soldiers. Focusing on what was in front of him, Bernt cast a fire shield in front of himself to burn the oncoming soldiers as he searched for more enemy mages. If he could only find enough of them, then maybe they could turn all his around. Maybe. He found one, and a few moments later, another. Both tried to shield themselves from Bernt¡¯s attacks, and both died seconds later with white fire licking up out of their mouths and eyes. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Unfortunately, that got someone¡¯s attention. A rock struck his left shoulder so hard that the entire arm went numb for a moment and Bernt reflexively activated his thorn skin amulet. Was it broken? There hadn¡¯t been a pop or anything. He cursed himself ¨C he should have done that the moment this started! Determined not to make a similar mistake, he activated his spirit-infused belt as well and tried to raise a force barrier with his right hand. The spell failed. Another rock shot toward his face, but this time he saw its source. One of the soldiers, a beardless dwarf, held a hammer instead of a staff, like Kustov. He ducked, hoping that nobody behind him was tall enough to be hit by it. There was a crack as it shattered against the remains of the wall behind him. Before he could rise, though, something heavy barreled into him, bearing him to the ground. Bernt pushed back as hard as he could with one hand, forcing whatever it was up and away from him. The duergar soldier flew backward a few paces and crashed into those behind him, bowling them over. Seizing the advantage, Bernt pushed himself up and followed up with a handful of white flame from his right hand. The fire struck the offending dwarf directly in the face as he tried to rise, igniting his beard with natural yellow flame even as he tried to scrape the white plasma from his bubbling face with a horrified scream. Bernt couldn¡¯t see the mage anymore. Where did she go? Raising his aching left arm, Bernt hastily cast a force barrier. It was only a pale imitation of what Fiora or Ed could do, but it would stop a single rock ¨C he hoped. Jori, who¡¯d gone flying from his shoulder when the duergar soldier struck him, hissed angrily and threw hellfire into the crowd. That was too much for the soldiers pressing in on them, and they tried to back up. All but one. She brought the hammer down on the ground at an angle, and shards of stone shot toward him with unnatural power. Bernt flinched and raised a hand. Something struck him in the side and he felt it as Jori was hit on the side of her head, sending her spinning. With a panicked lunge, Bernt rammed a poorly controlled dribble of mana through the investiture in his right arm and smacked his palm down on her chestplate with no visible effect. For a moment he thought the spell failed, but then her eyes grew wide and she gasped as she began trying to tear off her armor. She didn¡¯t have enough time. An agonized wail tore its way from her throat as her face distorted with terror. Bernt looked away, disturbed. There was a gash in his robes, but the stone shard hadn¡¯t made it through his armor after being slowed by his force barrier. Jori was already climbing back up to his shoulder. It felt like it had been only a moment, but when he looked back to see how the others were doing, the battlefield had been transformed. The duergar mages were proving to be mostly ineffective, for some reason. On a hunch, Bernt glanced back behind their lines and sure enough, there was Yarrod, busily flicking a wand this way and that, tripping up enemy spells nearly as quickly as they could throw them. How long could he keep that up? The duergar were still pushing in, but not nearly as enthusiastically as before. The Solicitors had joined the fight in earnest now, scattered among the guards. Josie¡¯s claws inflicted an effect even more extreme than her scream, to the point that her victims¡¯ hearts gave out more often than not. Bernt had seen it kill before, but he didn¡¯t realize that other warlocks had similar methods. In fact, she was one of the less effective fighters among them, since she had to get in close and get her hands into her enemies¡¯ unarmored skin. Radast stood near the center and his shadow flickered out from him wrapping individual enemies in darkness and leaving behind pale corpses with wide sightless eyes and mouths agape with screams that never came.. While the duergar warlocks seemed to favor fire and the direct support of demons that fought alongside them, the Solicitors relied on less visible, but no less potent abilities. Bernt shivered at the sight. A few had abilities like Josie¡¯s, while others incapacitated their victims as the whisperer had done up on the surface weeks before. Only one of them, the old woman, cast hellfire at her enemies. The duergar who saw pushed back and away with disturbed expressions on their faces, trying not to get too close. Bernt heard a shout and barely managed to cancel his fire shield in time to avoid burning Nirlig, who came stumbling sideways into the space it had been. Another balding, gray-haired goblin raced forward, pulling him back in time to keep him from getting skewered. It was Morix, Nirlig¡¯s father. The older goblin loudly scolded his son, but Bernt couldn¡¯t make out the words. The pressure was off him for a moment and his attention was drawn to Jori¡¯s senses, who had noticed something on the far end of the cavern. Sitting on his shoulder, the imp was head and shoulders above every dwarf in the attacking army and had a clear view across the cavern. The painful light that marked Torvald had made its way to something else that registered sharply in Jori¡¯s senses. A cart, sitting near the middle of the Undercity Market. Bernt could see it with his own eyes, and it was just a big crystal of some kind, but Jori¡¯s sight told a very different story. It glowed with unimaginable power, and Bernt knew as sure as the sun rose that drinking it in would taste like icy spring water on a hot day. To Jori, at least. The newly minted Paladin was clearly making for the crystal and still shouting as he did, though the words didn¡¯t carry far enough to make out over the din of battle. Several demons were clustered around it, as well as a contingent of armored duergar and a group of robed spellcasters, probably warlocks. One, dressed in ornate armor, was standing up in the cart and rested his hand on it. Jori could see the power shift inside the crystal, and Bernt didn¡¯t wait to find out what it would do. He wasn¡¯t sure what they meant to use it for, but it couldn¡¯t be good. Focusing as quickly as he could and doing his best to guide the mana along the right pathways in his arm, he cast a fireball with his right hand. If he could hit the enemy warlock, maybe he could solve this problem right here. The incandescent projectile flew true, but the dwarf didn¡¯t stay put. Instead of doing whatever he was going to do, he stood up and stepped back, neatly sidestepping Bernt¡¯s attack and exposing a robed figure behind him. The fireball struck the figure in the side and broke apart, splattering flames over several other Duergar behind. While those were also burned, only the robed figure truly caught fire ¨C the warlock had likely been wearing enchanted armor. Taking the time to cast a fireball came with a cost, though. He¡¯d had to take his eyes off the fight right in front of him, and now found a broad-shouldered Duergar soldier rushing him, shield first. Jori had seen him coming and flung hellfire at him, but the flames slid right off the shield¡¯s dwarven runework. Backing up a step, Bernt kicked down at the shield as hard as he could, breaking the soldier¡¯s arm and awkwardly scraping his leg against his weapon as he did. Both went stumbling in opposite directions, but Bernt caught himself quickly while his attacker crashed back into his fellows as Jori flung more fire at them. That belt was worth every copper Grixit had charged. Bernt looked back toward the crystal and found his target up on the cart still hadn¡¯t even realized that he was under attack. He pointed in entirely the wrong direction, shouting something, and Bernt looked. At the main entrance to the cavern, tall figures poured in, wearing black and gold and forming ranks. Bernt suppressed a sudden urge to laugh. ¡°The army is here!¡± he cried. ¡°It¡¯s Arice¡¯s people!¡± Others were shouting, too, and he could see the duergar line shrink back under the renewed fury of the defenders. Inspired, Bernt began quickly casting burning glue cantrips with his left hand, holding the retreating duergar back and tripping them up to be cut down by the Underkeeper guards. With his right, he kept pooling mana and flinging it into the enemy while he worked more complex spells with his left. He wasn¡¯t as effective as two mages, but he was casting two different spells at the same time. After a fashion, at least. And his mana network didn''t feel strained in the least. For a moment, it was going so well that Bernt forgot what Torvald was doing. Then there was a flash of light so bright it made stars dance in his vision. At the same time, a loud crack reverberated through the cavern and the light dimmed. In Jori¡¯s vision, a blazing comet flew over the enemy army and landed hard on the ground some distance away from the battle, rolling to a stop a few seconds later. It was Torvald. 2.40 The Battle of Halfbridge 5 Bernt cursed loudly. Was Torvald alive? He was still glowing ¨C that had to count for something, right? It wasn¡¯t just the light shed by the thousands of floral vines that grew around the cavern that had dimmed, but also that coming off of the white flames that still flickered from many of the dead. Bernt had lost count of just how many he¡¯d cast, but he could sense their mana ¨C his mana. To Jori¡¯s eyes, though, the cavern blazed with light. A glowing mist filled the room, spinning in a vortex around the spot where the glowing stone had been. They were on the periphery of it, but he could sense it as she drew in some of the power. They were souls. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. Not the fragmentary residues that Jori had been drawing from corpses, but actual, entire souls. And they were being drawn into the Duergar leader who was now standing on the ground, next to the cart. The cart itself was missing a wheel and lay awkwardly on the ground, broken. There was no sign of the stone. ¡°Nuros!¡± Jori hissed as if it were a curse, unconsciously digging her claws into Bernt¡¯s shoulder. With a colossal boom, rubble exploded outward and down from above the Beseri soldiers, cutting a swath through the duergar lines. This was followed by a barrage of fireballs that further compounded the effect. As impressive as it looked, though, Arice¡¯s war mages couldn¡¯t end the battle then and there. While they cut a gap into their formation, most of the Duergar forces were protected by their own mages. Within moments, the tide of gray dwarves had changed direction, engaging the enemy at their rear. ¡°Go get ¡®em!¡± Dayle roared, punctuating the statement with a spell that sent a head-sized rock flying into the remaining forces in front of them ¨C those too close to turn their backs on the Underkeepers. The stone was deflected off of an enemy force barrier, but bounced at an oblique angle so that it still tore a soldier messily in half before exploding with a loud crack behind their lines, catching several from behind with flying bits of stone. The Underkeepers advanced on their demoralized foes. Bernt, though, was worried. He tried to keep an eye on the duergar general. He was actually a demon, or a dwarf possessed by a demon, or a duergar prince who¡¯d turned into the worst sort of warlock. It wasn¡¯t clear, but it also didn¡¯t matter right now. That demon was trying to make a feast for itself from the souls of Halfbridge¡¯s dead. Within a minute, the duergar were pushed back toward the center of the room. Despite this setback, Nuros did nothing to intervene, and neither did the group of guards and warlocks around him. The enormous dark vortex of souls just spun faster and faster, pouring down into the dwarf¡¯s mouth like water into a drain. Most of it was already gone. He had to try something. Bernt backed up a step and cast a banefire at the general, but he was too far away. The spell disintegrated before it reached him. Considering the problem, he sighted on Nuros once more and visualized the spellform for a fireball. Then he held out his right hand and cast it. The white fireball manifested just as it had so many times during his recent practice sessions, but this time he¡¯d meant for it to come out like this. The flaming missile shot toward his target, drawing eyes as it arced gracefully over the mass of soldiers. One of Nuros¡¯ guards, a stout duergar woman, saw it and raised her staff, but she was too late. The white fire struck Nuros square in his armored chest. The fire flared brighter, feeding on the enchantments layered over the breastplate, and the dwarf screamed with rage. He pulled at his armor, bending it like paper as he tore it off of his body and threw it to the ground. He roared so loudly that the cavern shook, and then turned toward the oncoming Beseri army. Bernt had hit his target, but he hadn¡¯t managed to burn the demon-possessed general at all. The breastplate was destroyed, but the armor had still done its job. Shit. Bernt cursed and raised his wand to try banefire again but was interrupted by inhuman, hollow-sounding wails and screams that echoed through the cavern. Black shadows erupted out from the demonic dwarf general in a tide, roiling through his own ranks and into the Beseri army that was pushing back his forces. High-pitched screams of terror and pain joined those created by the demon¡¯s spell. The noise grew louder, closer, and Bernt realized that the shadows were still moving, sweeping around through the Beseri army¡¯s ranks toward them. Bernt¡¯s mind raced, trying to think of something, anything he could do here, and his eyes fell on a flickering white flame that burned merrily just a few steps away. Seizing on the idea, Bernt swept his gaze along the battlefield taking in all of the fires he¡¯d made. Some were no larger than the flame of a torch, while others ¨C those that had struck mages ¨C still burned like large, white campfires. They would shrink eventually ¨C there was only so much mana around for them to burn ¨C but it would be enough for this. It had to be. It wasn¡¯t really that complicated. They were all his spells, his fire. Raising his pyromancer¡¯s wand in his left hand, he cast a control flame cantrip and seized the fire ¨C all of it at once. He tried to shape the flames, but it was too slow, his control wasn¡¯t good enough with this much fire. Desperately, he raised his right hand and cast another spell ¨C the widest heat barrier he could manage, nearly fifteen strides. Then he pushed the fire all in one direction, directly toward it. The flames splashed against it, finally cohering into a curved wall of nearly translucent white fire that completely covered the Underkeepers¡¯ left flank. It wasn¡¯t a proper fire shield, and it took a lot of concentration to hold so much energy in such a haphazard way, but he didn¡¯t have to wait long. The fiery plasma flared as the perpetual flame fed on the incoming demon lord''s spell, the glare so bright that it interrupted the fighting, forcing both the Duergar and the Underkeepers to turn away and shield their eyes. Jori hissed, jumping off Bernt¡¯s shoulder and scrambled up the wall behind him. She¡¯d come to the same conclusion that Bernt had ¨C someone needed to do something now, or they were going to die. Bernt didn¡¯t fully understand what Jori planned to do, but the impression he got from her was more than enough to alarm him. She was going to get herself killed! He considered trying to call her back, and opened his mouth to shout after her, but then closed it again. She was right. There wasn¡¯t time for anything else, and they were all going to die anyway at this rate. *** Jori scrambled across the ceiling among glowing vines, watching as a tide of black shadows burned up in Bernt¡¯s wall of white fire. That would show him! But she knew it wouldn¡¯t be enough. A demon lord could cast spells like that all day. Somebody had to do something. Torvald had the right idea, but he was still lying on the ground across the cavern, almost all the way to the tunnel that led up to the crafter¡¯s quarter. Besides, she was somebody, too, and there was a lot to work with here. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Inhaling deeply, Jori drew in the tasty essence that swirled through the cavern. The mist nearest to her took on a silvery sheen as she drew it in, pouring into her with a pure, icy flavor. It was almost like she couldn¡¯t even feel just how thirsty she¡¯d been until she tasted the water of life, but now that the souls were at her lips, she was ravenous. She drew the power in, slowly at first, but then faster and faster. The mist spun around, thinning a bit as she drew it in. After just a few seconds, though, her intake stopped. She felt the pressure mount inside her veins, just as she had in the dungeon, though much more clearly. There were no blockages to clear this time. No, the power running through her was just more than was meant to fit. That was fine. She wasn¡¯t totally clueless about what was happening this time, and she had her own ideas about how she wanted to grow, regardless. Seizing what she could of the souls around her, she pulled them into herself, trying to find that all-important breaking point. She wasn¡¯t like Bernt or the old fire wizard. She didn¡¯t know what the veins were supposed to look like when it was done. But that didn¡¯t matter. She wasn¡¯t a human, and she wasn¡¯t a mortal, born helpless and without even the most basic instincts. Jori knew what she was ¨C what all of her kind and those of her plane were. Some fed on the souls of the dead, while others drank the blood of other demons, and still others bathed in the burning hellfire that ran through the land in rivers. Souls, blood, and fire. Feeling something give inside her, Jori concentrated on what she wanted as a horrible burning sensation worming its way through her body. Soon her skin began to feel stretched and her head itched as her horns grew out and curled backward. Nuros was a shade ¨C an incorporeal thing. Nothing like her. He sat inside that squishy dwarf like a worm in an apple. He was a master of the soul, and he could cast some pretty scary spells, but how carefully would something like that consider its own safety? Jori had realized something when she¡¯d fought her first two possessed warlocks. The demons that possessed those dwarves had to sacrifice something to get direct control of their summoners like that. They hadn¡¯t brought a body. Instead, they had to share their host¡¯s. A demon from the third hell, like the one she¡¯d fought in the plaza near the Undercity gate, would naturally ensure that its host was well-equipped to fight, with fire and with regeneration to restore it when it was injured. The one from the first hell wasn¡¯t well-suited to fighting at all, though. It could incapacitate people, sure, but it was practically useless in every other regard. Shades didn¡¯t have real bodies, and from what Jori could tell they didn¡¯t fight physically, either. Sure, the demon was vastly more powerful than she was, and she couldn¡¯t possibly scratch it if it was here in its true form¡­ but it wasn¡¯t. Would it remember to protect its host properly? Could it, even if it wanted to? She was going to find out. *** Bernt felt Jori change as his wall of fire continued to absorb the demon lord¡¯s attack. She was in a lot of pain, but the mixed sense of satisfaction, thirst and determination made it clear that this was something she was doing to herself. Jori had scrambled in closer toward the center of the cavern to get better access to what remained of the souls that Nuros was consuming. The Solicitors would come for her when all this was done. If they lived that long. It was too bright to see with his own eyes, but he caught a glimpse as Jori opened her eyes and looked at what he¡¯d done. The screaming shadows didn¡¯t disappear instantly when they hit his awkwardly shaped wall of white flame. Instead, they boiled in the flames, catching fire and whirling in a tight circle as they burned up. It gave the wall a striking roiling effect, and he feared what might happen if he extinguished the fire before they were fully destroyed. As it was, though, the flames kept growing, feeding on the powerful spell and baking his skin from ten paces away. Thinking quickly, Bernt worked to raise another heat barrier on the near side of the wall of fire, trusting the Underkeepers around him to keep him safe from the duergar. It took nearly another minute before the white fire finally calmed. Finally daring to look, Bernt realized that the flames had reached the cavern ceiling and were busily devouring the vines that lit the underground space. At this rate, the flames wouldn¡¯t just overheat the cavern, they¡¯d wipe out their lighting as well. Instead of holding it in place any longer, Bernt drew the flames down and then pushed them outward and away from himself, bathing the massed duergar soldiers in a torrent of white fire. *** Jori shifted, changing her grip on the vines and rough stone of the cavern ceiling, and nearly fell as her foot slipped. She was heavier, and her limbs and hands had grown, making her prior grips awkward and small. She caught herself and readjusted. Her reactions felt smoother and more sure than before. It was as if her body just knew what to do. It felt great. Determined not to waste any time, she ghosted forward, doing her best to stay out of sight from below until she hung directly above general Nuros. He had stopped attacking again, resuming his work of absorbing the souls that still orbited around him in the cavern. The demon lord must have maintained his control over them even while launching his attack. Souls didn¡¯t just stay put in the world without their bodies. The enemy general¡¯s guards were an assortment of powerful demons, robed warlocks and duergar wearing armor that was very different from the other soldiers¡¯. Some of them were casting spells toward the cavern entrance, where Jori could see new Beseri soldiers pouring in alongside mortals who didn¡¯t wear a uniform ¨C adventurers, most likely. They were moving more cautiously than before, probably intimidated by all the dead uniformed bodies in front of them. Most of Nuros¡¯ guards, though, were looking toward the Underkeepers. They¡¯d seen Bernt strike their master with fire, and were on alert for further attacks. As she watched, one of them sent a bolt of shadow toward the defenders, but it changed direction partway there and struck one of their own. Just then, Bernt¡¯s wall of white fire collapsed and poured down into the duergar forces like a river of death. Nobody was looking up. Folding her wings in tightly, Jori let go of the ceiling and plummeted straight down like a stone. As she fell, she poured hellfire out in front of her, aiming as best she could for the demon lord. Flinging the viscous fire as hard as she could, she extended her claws and shifted her wings slightly to adjust her fall. The duergar general was spattered with hellfire a split-second before she came down directly behind him, bringing her clawed hands down on his head and shoulders. A claw on her right hand caught in the fabric of his cloak and tore free with a horrible wrenching sensation, and she felt a horrible popping sensation in her left leg as she landed. Her left hand glanced off his helmet with no effect at all. Jori snarled in pain and stumbled. Whatever had broken in her leg was already healing, but she couldn¡¯t move it right and nearly fell. A gauntleted hand caught her by one ear and hauled her up painfully. Jori stared up into empty black eyes set into an old, white-bearded face. Her hellfire had marred his helmet, but whatever enchantments were on it had protected him from the worst of the attack. There were deep burns on one shoulder, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The demon was in control, and it simply ignored the pain. Maybe it couldn¡¯t even feel it. ¡°Clever.¡± it said in an odd, penetrating voice that seemed to echo in her mind. ¡°But foolish. A little cockroach, nibbling at the crumbs. You should remember your place. Seek out my servant Zijeregh when I have freed you from your bond. I may have a¨C¡± The remaining claws of Jori¡¯s left hand sank into the skin of the possessed dwarf¡¯s unprotected chest, finally giving her what she needed ¨C a taste of the host¡¯s blood. And just like that, she could feel it, coursing through the mortal¡¯s body. More specifically, she could feel the tiny bits of the mortal¡¯s essence that it carried, the very soul residues that she¡¯d first drawn from to fuel her first metamorphosis. They carried with them the pain and discomfort that the dwarf felt, his exhaustion and the pleasure he¡¯d felt unleashing the power of an almost-greater demon on his enemies. It was a heady sensation, and for the first time, she recognized it for what it was, even as the dwarf¡¯s grip tightened, threatening to crush her in his unnaturally powerful grip. It was fuel. Making a fist with her left hand, she ignited it. 2.41 Consequences Bernt charged into the gap he had made with a roar, followed closely by those nearest to him. He needed to get closer, to get to Jori. He felt her leg snap through their bond and shivered in sympathetic pain. As more Underkeepers rushed after him, he pushed the white flames out ahead of him, clearing the way. If he could keep control of them, he might be able to finish this on his own. Just as he had that thought, light flared in his peripheral vision as the fire ignited some kind of heavily enchanted armor on a Duergar corpse. Fire shot in all directions, including toward the oncoming Underkeepers. Bernt tried to seize control of it and push it out toward the enemy, but it was too much. A goblin screamed as a spray of fire struck her, splattering onto one of the warlocks and then more people behind them. Heart leaping into his throat, Bernt extinguished those flames with an effort of will that cost him his control over the remaining wall of flames. The fire that was burning his allies was snuffed out almost immediately, but the affected defenders were still badly burned. At least they were still moving. Pushing the shock and suffocating sense of horror to the back of his mind as best he could, Bernt turned back the other way and recast his control flame cantrip. He quickly shrank down the remaining blaze, drawing mana out of it and dispersing it into the ground. If he couldn¡¯t control it properly, a giant wall of fire was as much a liability as a useful weapon. Just as he did, he saw a burst of reddish-orange hellfire ahead of him and to his right. The cart was on fire, and Jori was in the middle of it. It hurt, but he could feel her triumph radiating through the bond. She was laughing. Through her eyes, he saw as fire consumed the duergar leader from within, completely destroying the body in seconds. Then his armor melted, collapsing to mold itself to the shrunken and twisted remains. The odd, misty haze vanished first. Then, all around, purple flames flared in rapid succession. Bernt whirled to search for the threat, only to realize that the demons were disappearing, one after another. He had no idea what kind of pacts duergar warlocks used, but he guessed that their permission to remain on this plane was tied to the survival of either their demon overlord or his host. ¡°Sit your asses down on the ground and surrender!¡± Dayle shouted, his voice amplified by magic. ¡°You¡¯re trapped down here now, sure as shit in a dwarf¡¯s beard.¡± The duergar soldiers didn¡¯t immediately comply, but they kept backing away, looking over their shoulders toward where their leader had been. The bulk of the duergar forces disengaged from the advancing Beseri soldiers and adventurers, who were still streaming from the cavern entrance. For a moment, everyone held their breath, uncertain. Jori was nowhere to be seen, but Bernt knew that she was currently clinging to the underside of the still-burning wagon. Nuros¡¯ specially armored guards were looking around in confusion, as if they weren¡¯t sure what was happening. If anything, they seemed even less certain than the regular soldiers. What was wrong with them? One of them sat down on the ground, followed by another. There was some shouting as another protested, but then the soldiers began to drop their weapons and surrender. It was over in minutes. A few of the Underkeepers sat down right where they¡¯d been standing when the fighting stopped, but Dayle quickly took charge and got everyone back on their feet. Those who hadn¡¯t fought directly checked the injured and administered healing potions, while anyone who was still in fighting shape began the work of disarming the enemy. They¡¯d barely started when Beseri soldiers arrived to take over. They piled the weapons off to the side and marched the duergar out of the cavern in manageable groups, often much more roughly than was strictly necessary. Bernt had no idea where they were going to take them, and he didn¡¯t care. He had people he needed to check on. As soon as he could get away with it, he borrowed a healing potion from one of the goblins treating the wounded and hurried toward the burnt cart where Jori was still hiding. He could guess why she hadn¡¯t come out. If the Beseri soldiers saw her, they might attack. The Underkeepers would recognize her, and maybe the adventurers would as well, but there were far more soldiers here now than anyone else. Signaling her through the bond, he approached to find her crawling out from under the cart. Sure enough, a nearby soldier shouted and raised a sword as soon as he saw her, but Bernt waved him down. ¡°Relax! She¡¯s with me.¡± The soldier frowned at him suspiciously, but lowered his weapon. Ignoring him, Bernt turned back to grin at Jori. She was quite a bit larger now, standing nearly up to his waist. Her wings and horns had grown longer. Despite that, she actually looked more humanoid than before. Her arms and legs seemed more in proportion to her body and she stood straighter. ¡°I did it!¡± Jori said proudly. ¡°I stole the demon¡¯s souls and I set his blood on fire! Wait till I tell Elyn about this ¨C she¡¯s going to write a song about me! I¡¯m going to be so famous!¡± Bernt smiled at her and nodded. Maybe she would. ¡°Come on. We need to see if Torvald is alright.¡± Carefully picking their way past the enemy soldiers, they made their way to the back of the Undercity Market, where a single human still lay sprawled face-down on the ground. Torvald¡¯s leg was bent at a horrific, unnatural angle underneath him and Bernt shuddered to think what that felt like. ¡°He¡¯s alive!¡± Jori said, skipping forward and turning him over onto his back with a heave. She was bigger now, but shifting that much weight was still a major effort. He didn¡¯t look alive. Torvald¡¯s skin was so pale that it nearly looked gray and his eyes were open, staring at nothing. One pupil was a pinprick, while the other looked normal ¨C an obvious concussion. Quickly, Bernt reached down and straightened the paladin¡¯s leg with a horrible crackling noise, then he pulled the minor healing potion from his pocket and uncorked it. Someone grabbed his shoulder. ¡°Ugh, back off with that thing. He can¡¯t swallow while he¡¯s unconscious anyway. You¡¯ll just choke him. I¡¯ll do it,¡± Josie said and knelt down next to him. She looked like something the hells themselves had spat up, her hair and face covered with blood and worse. Her heavily enchanted robes, by contrast, were not only undamaged but also spotless. Still, she hadn¡¯t come away unscathed. Two fingernails on her right hand had been torn off and blood still dripped from them onto his shoulder, soaking into his robes. Her expression, though, was as determined as ever. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Bernt backed up a step to let her work. The Solicitor pulled a small, rolled leather case from her pouch and opened it, pulling out a glass syringe with what seemed like an unnecessarily long needle. After filling it with some of her potion, she carefully inserted it into the shattered leg and injected it directly into his bloodstream. Color washed back into Torvald¡¯s face and he blinked, though he still didn¡¯t look like he was all there. His leg spasmed and he made a strangled sound. ¡°Hold him down!¡± Josie ordered as she moved up and held his head still. ¡°There you are. Alright, drink it down, small sips.¡± Before long, Josie had their young colleague sitting up, looking around in confusion. A patch of hair on the back of his skull was missing, and Bernt wondered just how bad that concussion had been. ¡°What were you thinking?!¡± Josie berated him. ¡°You literally ran into an enemy army. That was the dumbest thing I¡¯ve ever seen in my life!¡± Torvald shook his head, though even that small motion still pained him. ¡°She told me to do it. Ruzinia did. I had to.¡± Josie scowled. ¡°Do you commit suicide every time someone tells you to?!¡± The paladin grinned at her. ¡°It almost sounds like you were worried about me,¡± he teased, but then adopted a more sober expression. ¡°You don¡¯t say no to a god. It was¡­ intense. Besides, I wanted a calling ¨C it¡¯s why I joined the Underkeepers in the first place.¡± ¡°I told you!¡± Josie growled. ¡°You can¡¯t sign yourself over to a being who operates at that kind of scale. You¡¯re less than an ant to a god, and it shows. Just look at you!¡± As the two of them fell into a familiar argument, Bernt let out a small sigh of relief. Torvald, at least, was going to be okay. They helped him up and slowly made their way back to the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters. Only then did Torvald finally notice Jori walking alongside Bernt. ¡°Uh. Jori? What happened to you?¡± he looked from her to Bernt a little warily. Josie very carefully didn¡¯t look at them, but he could still see the worried frown on her face. She knew exactly what had happened, and what it meant. ¡°I stole some of the power that Nuros was absorbing and I destroyed his host with it.¡± Jori explained helpfully, grinning brightly. ¡°I won the battle!¡± ¡°I¡­ see? What does that mean? Is he dead?¡± Torvald asked, looking from Jori to Josie. The warlock shrugged. ¡°Not dead, no. Just gone. The duergar warlocks will summon him back, most likely. But I doubt they¡¯re going to do it here. There isn¡¯t much left of his army, and it looks like he mostly got what he came for, anyway.¡± ¡°Souls, you mean,¡± Bernt said, swallowing thickly. How many people had just died? ¡°How much more powerful is he going to be next time?¡± Josie sighed. ¡°That depends. If he had enough for his metamorphosis, he would have done it. But¡­ he might be close after that. Still, there¡¯s no guarantee he¡¯ll come back here at all. I¡¯m sure there are softer targets out there.¡± Bernt looked around at the destruction that filled the cavern. Hundreds of people had died here, and practically everyone he could see was injured in some way or another. Burn wounds were especially common among the duergar, and many of the corpses clustered around his earlier position were charred black ¨C his work. The stench of burnt meat and hair hung in the air. They made their way into the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters, where they deposited Torvald in one of the back rooms with the other convalescing guards. He¡¯d be back to normal soon thanks to Josie¡¯s expensive healing potion ¨C well before many of the others who had taken much lighter wounds. They were on their way back to the courtyard when a skinny-looking dwarf woman with a nasty bruise on her face stepped out of the break room and held up a hand to stop them. ¡°Dzhorianath, you have broken the bounds of your agreement with the Solicitors, Archmage Thurdred, and Archmage Iriala to remain on the mortal plane. Please step inside.¡± Beside him, Bernt could see Josie tense up, but Jori looked completely relaxed. The imp casually walked forward and past the warlock, disappearing into the room. Bernt made to follow, but the Solicitor took a half step forward to block his way. ¡°You are not required to be in attendance for this meeting. You¡¯re not party to the contract.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to help.¡± Bernt said, shoving past her none too gently. Josie followed quietly behind him, and he noticed crossly that nobody tried to keep her out. The room was filled with the surviving solicitors ¨C eight of them, including the young apprentice, who sat near the back of the room by the kitchen, watching Gnugg and Trip as they made random concoctions out of the tea ingredients on the counter. Bernt guessed they¡¯d spent the entire battle here. Radast stood up and nodded formally to Jori. There was a ritual circle on the ground next to him with much the same configuration as the one the Solicitors had made outside earlier, though this one was just drawn in salt. ¡°I appreciate your timely intervention. Without your support, it¡¯s unlikely that we would have been able to stop Nuros.¡± Jori grinned at him. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, but I didn¡¯t do it for you.¡± ¡°I am aware,¡± Radast said with a severe frown. ¡°You have advanced in power and exceeded the limits of our agreement. I¡¯m afraid this means that you will be forced to leave this plane immediately.¡± ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t!¡± Bernt interrupted. Radast held a hand up to silence Bernt and kept his gaze on Jori. ¡°I fear that you may not appreciate just how far I was already bending Beseri law to allow you to remain here as you have.¡± Jori¡¯s grin turned a little sharper. ¡°Maybe. But you weren¡¯t doing it for me.¡± ¡°Be that as it may,¡± Radast said seriously. ¡°There are no further accommodations I can legally make, and no amount of heroism will convince me to defy the king. Adherence to the law is the bedrock that the Solicitors are built upon. It¡¯s not the outcome I was hoping for, but it¡¯s the one we have. If you would step over here, I can make your transition painless. You may, of course, return provided you do so under an approved pact.¡± That was his cue. Bernt cleared his throat and took a step forward. ¡°Fine, then let¡¯s do it! Weren¡¯t you even going to ask me first?¡± Radast stared at Bernt with cutting skepticism written all over his features. Josie nodded at him encouragingly, though. She¡¯d been trying to get him to do this from the first day they met. Jori, on the other hand, felt surprised and then alarmed. ¡°Underkeeper Bernard, as I¡¯ve previously mentioned to you, you lack the proper temperament for a warlock,¡± Radast said condescendingly. ¡°Managing an intelligent demon in the long term, even within a pact, requires force of will, cunning, and an iron dedication to the letter of the law. You have repeatedly demonstrated a lack of caution and an unacceptable flexibility in regard to both the spirit and the letter of the law.¡± Bernt scowled at the man. ¡°You didn¡¯t say she needed one of your warlocks, you just said she needs a pact that meets your standards. I¡¯ve seen the standards and there¡¯s no reason I couldn¡¯t make a pact like that.¡± Radast shook his head. ¡°I will not accept it, regardless. You¡¯d be a rogue warlock within a decade ¨C or, more likely, a week. She may make a pact with a more suitable candidate if she wishes, but in the meantime she will need to return to her home plane regardless.¡± ¡°She just saved practically the entire city!¡± Bernt shouted. ¡°She saved everyone!¡± The chief solicitor sighed, tiredly. ¡±There is no need for you to be so defensive. She will be fine.¡± Jori spread her wings and beat them down once, drawing everyone¡¯s attention. She wasn¡¯t grinning anymore and Bernt could feel her frustration. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the approved version of the pact too, and I¡¯m not going to be bound by the Solicitors. Or anyone! Not now, and not in the future.¡± Moving quickly, she stepped inside the salt circle and then lifted her gaze to look Bernt in the eye. She flashed him a quick, bright grin accompanied by a complicated mixture of determination, grief and wry amusement. ¡°Besides. I haven¡¯t saved everyone. Not yet.¡± She leaned down and dug the razor-sharp claws of one hand into her palm, spraying drops of burning blood down onto the salt. The circle ignited in purple flame and she disappeared in a burst of fire that seemed to collapse in on itself even as it formed. Over by the kitchen, Gnugg wailed in horror. Bernt stared uncomprehendingly at the spot where she¡¯d been. 2.42 Emotional Response Bernt stormed out of the break room. Someone was following him, but he didn¡¯t care. He could still feel Jori through their bond. It hadn¡¯t broken when she disappeared, but it was different. Duller. He could only get a general sense of her emotional state, but it wasn¡¯t like when she was far away on the material plane. He didn¡¯t get any sensory information, no matter how hard he tried to focus. Bursting through the door to Ed¡¯s office, he rounded the archmage¡¯s desk and pulled open the drawers underneath it, one after another. He needed that Duergar demonology text. He¡¯d need to learn Duergar, or at least a similar dwarven dialect. Maybe he could get Kustov to teach him? The book wasn¡¯t there. What happened? Had he taken it home? Growling with frustration, Bernt began to rummage through the papers, as if expecting the book to just appear between the sheets. He was poking around at the back of a drawer when his hand closed around a flattened scroll. It looked oddly familiar. He stared at it for a few seconds before he remembered where he knew it from. It was the other scroll that he¡¯d taken from the Dragon¡¯s garbage heap. The one written in a language that not even Ed had recognized. He pocketed it. Ed certainly wouldn¡¯t be looking into it any time soon, and it was his, after all. ¡°Godsdamnit Bernt, what are you doing?¡± Josie asked urgently, looking around as if worried that they were about to get caught. ¡°I¡¯m looking for my book.¡± Bernt said shortly. ¡°One that Ed was holding for me. But it¡¯s not here.¡± ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Josie said. ¡°I know you¡¯re upset, but we can bring her back! It¡¯s not forever.¡± Bernt glared at her, but his anger quickly melted into bitter exhaustion. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. Jori hates it there. It hurts her to even think about it or whatever happened there. She never talks about it. This is torture for her, as much as it would be for you or me. More, maybe! It doesn¡¯t matter that she came from there, this is wrong!¡± Josie nodded and held out her hand the way one might at a spooked animal. What did he look like? ¡±She went on her own, Bernt! Besides, Finn, the novice that was watching the kids in there, is going to be ready for his first summon in a year, maybe less! We can summon her then, and maybe she¡¯ll have changed her mind.¡± ¡°A year.¡± Bernt said bitterly. ¡°Besides, what about Ed? He¡¯s somewhere there, too. Are we just going to leave him there? What¡¯s going to happen?¡± ¡°It¡¯s hard to say. The hells aren¡¯t like our plane. The third hell is the most similar to ours, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s habitable. It¡¯s a vast place, just as big as our world ¨C you can¡¯t just find a person that got pulled into it. We can summon demons because of what they are. It doesn¡¯t work on normal, mortal people.¡± ¡°Damn it, Josie! We have to do something. I thought you and Jori were friends!¡± Josie¡¯s lips tightened into a line. ¡°I am doing something. I¡¯m keeping you from getting yourself killed. There¡¯s time to worry about Jori later. A class 3 demon isn¡¯t going to be in any danger from random predators on her home plane. She¡¯ll be fine. You, on the other hand, seem determined to provoke a hostile visit from Radast. His shade is probably watching us right now.¡± Bernt looked around, though he knew there was no way he would spot the demonic shadow if it didn¡¯t want to be seen. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. What else could he say if he was being spied on? ¡°Let¡¯s go help with the wounded.¡± *** The wounded, as it turned out, had already been taken care of. In most cases, a potion was all they would need to get back on their feet. Of course, that didn¡¯t mean they¡¯d be completely fine. Nirlig had lost a few fingers on his left hand and would have a scar to show just how close he¡¯d gotten to losing an eye. But he would live, as he kept reminding his father who was clucking over him like a mother hen. Several others had large, rippling burn scars. Those hadn¡¯t been because of the Duergar ¨C no, that had been Bernt. Guilt gnawed at his belly when he saw them. Would they get the care they needed to restore them fully? Twenty-seven of their guards were confirmed dead, Glim among them. Rindle, Kustov and Fiora were still missing along with several of the guards, and they¡¯d lost Ed. Bernt wondered what that even meant. There were myths of people traveling to the hells ¨C usually to rescue the soul of a loved one ¨C but he doubted those had any truth to them. The way Josie talked, it sounded like people could go there. Could he learn how? He banished the thought. What could he do that Ed couldn¡¯t do far better himself? Josie had been right. It wasn¡¯t something he could do right now, and the city was in shambles. They had work to do here. As he stepped out into the courtyard, Bernt caught sight of a small kobold trying to push through the crowd, looking fearfully over his shoulder and carrying a backpack. Recognizing Gnugg, Bernt waved and hurried over to him, pushing through the bustle of Underkeepers and soldiers. "Gnugg, hold on!" he called out. The kobold stopped and looked at him, visibly trembling. Bernt held out his hands in a calming gesture. "Easy. It''s still dangerous out there. Do you want me to take you to the orphanage?" "No!" Gnugg said quickly, before repeating it more slowly. "No. Not back. I sleep below tonight. I am going now. Have to go!" "Wait! Do you have somewhere safe to go? Where''s Trip?" "Yes! yes. It is safe. Trip is waiting me. Other direction. Not bad dwarves." If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Bernt shook his head. What was he doing? According to Jori, the kobold had been on corpse disposal duty in the warrens when she first met him. He''d seen worse than this. But... he''d been close to Jori. She was very attached to her "interns" and spent a lot of time with them. And he was obviously terrified. "Listen. We''re going to get Jori back, alright? She''s not gone forever." Gnugg nodded emphatically and made an odd squeaking sound. "Jori back! Yes! I am going now. Have to go!" "Are you sure you don''t want me to take you?" Bernt asked again. "No follow!" the kobold snapped and turned, scurrying off into the crowd. As he disappeared, the lid of his backpack moved, and a tiny draconian head poked out, looking at him with bright, golden eyes. Bernt blinked. Where had Gnugg found a newborn kobold hatchling? Why did he have it here? Shaking off his surprise, Bernt hurried after him. He wasn''t sure what he was going to do, but could he really let a child run around in a war zone with what was practically a baby? Even a kobold? He hurried out into the market, but Gnugg was gone, disappeared into the press of soldiers, Underkeepers and emerging civilians. *** Surprisingly, the cleanup effort in the Undercity progressed quickly. Local residents came out when they realized that the fighting was done, both dwarves and goblins, and helped to carry the duergar corpses to their designated disposal location. As they did, they helped themselves to what remained of their armor and weapons ¨C all of valuable dwarven make. Bernt half-heartedly joined in, stripping knives, pouches and smaller valuables off and depositing them in his bag, which he¡¯d found lying in the courtyard exactly where he¡¯d left it. He needed money, but right then it was hard to remember why it mattered. When he found the body of a mage or a warlock he would check for scrolls or books, but none of them were carrying anything ¨C at least nothing that wasn¡¯t burnt beyond recognition. He and Josie were hauling an Underkeeper guard¡¯s body into a cart next to the cavern entrance when a familiar voice called out from behind him. ¡°Glad to see you made it!¡± Bernt turned to find Kustov walking in, casting spells to reshape the ragged opening into a smooth archway and melting the rubble down into the floor, the way it had been before. ¡°We saw the end of the fight ¨C thought you might get overwhelmed there for a moment.¡± ¡°You¡¯re okay?¡± Bernt asked, as if he wasn¡¯t quite sure of the answer. ¡°What about Fiora?¡± He¡¯d half expected to find their bodies here somewhere. As far as he knew, they¡¯d never made it out of the side tunnel where they¡¯d been harassing the incoming dwarves. ¡°Yes, we¡¯re fine. Fiora is at headquarters, organizing things. We heard about Ed¡­¡± he trailed off, but then shook his head and continued. ¡°When we went to leave the tunnel, the whole place was full of Duergar. So I sealed the entrance and we tunneled our way over toward the army. It took longer than it should have. I¡¯m out of practice, a little. But we got there. Arice hadn¡¯t heard that there was an army marching in behind him. He was fighting a smaller force further down in the tunnels ¨C our messenger never reached his people.¡± Bernt barked out a humorless laugh. The Underkeepers had been fighting an army while the military was off skirmishing with a distraction. It wasn¡¯t funny, but he couldn¡¯t hold it in. This entire thing could have been avoided if Arice¡¯s scryers, or his geomancers, or his abjurers were a little more thorough. It was stupid. But, then again, that probably wasn¡¯t what happened. He wasn¡¯t giving the Duergar enough credit. They¡¯d been probing at their defenses for weeks and had spies in the city for at least that long. They knew where their defensive wards were and how to get around them. ¡°They moved fast when they heard, but we were worried it might already be too late.¡± Kustov gave him a pat on the arm. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have underestimated you, eh? I saw you set half the enemy army on fire!¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t that many.¡± Bernt said, trying to block the memory of the gruesome sight in his mind. ¡°Besides, you should have seen Torvald, he nearly took on the entire army by himself!¡± ¡°Really?¡± Kutov said. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a story I need to hear.¡± *** The door was open, but Bernt didn¡¯t step inside. He leaned against the doorframe for a second and simply took it in. It was exactly as he¡¯d left it. Still, it was somehow also too dark and quiet. It wasn¡¯t just that Jori wasn¡¯t home ¨C he spent time here by himself all the time. No, it was that she wasn¡¯t going to be home. It made the place seem dead, somehow. Abandoned. There was a wail and shouting as, two doors down, Nirlig¡¯s mom berated Morix over what he¡¯d allowed to happen to her boy. Then, Nirlig¡¯s voice, trying to defend his father and presumably his own agency. They were one of the lucky families on this street today ¨C two Underkeepers and both had made it home. Bernt sighed ¨C he was being stupid. That, and he was exhausted. Stepping inside, he turned and shut the door behind him. He lit the stove with a cantrip and scavenged a bit of rat jerky from a stone jar that he usually kept for Jori. It was very spicy, and he knew he was going to regret wolfing it down on an empty stomach like this. But it was the middle of the night, and he didn¡¯t have the patience to start cooking now. He put on a kettle for tea and sat down on the hard stone couch he¡¯d made. Maybe some tea would help his digestion. As he worked, his eyes fell on a bottle on the table with a hand-written label that read ¡°Hellfire Gin¡±. He stared at it numbly for a minute before picking it up. He popped the cork and sniffed. Eyes watering, he grimaced and resealed the bottle. Nirlig had been right ¨C it really was disgusting. He stood up and put it up on a shelf. Jori could have that when she got back. *** Gegrenoth ran. He ducked behind an outcropping of speckled gray-black stone, the same coloring as his skin, and made his way down the scree slope into the narrow river valley. Black rain fell from the sky onto barren ground, running down in rivulets toward the burning river, where it hissed and evaporated back up into the low, yellowish clouds above. He¡¯d missed the dark sky, the sour rain that pattered on his skin, and the pleasant sulfurous air that filled his lungs, but he didn¡¯t have time to enjoy it. He needed to get to the river. The mortal wouldn¡¯t be able to get over the fire. It would die, like they were supposed to. Gegrenoth didn¡¯t know how it had followed him here. It shouldn¡¯t have been able to do it! It wasn¡¯t fair. Rocks clattered down behind him as the big mortal stomped down in pursuit. He sped up. Gegrenoth knew this area ¨C there was a small cliff ahead where he could get some distance. The imp juked left and right again as gravel erupted upward next to him. There was no cover here to hide him. Then his feet touched solid ground and he leapt, spreading his wings as he cleared the last few strides and the land gave way below him. He¡¯d done it! With the updrafts rising from the flaming river, he could glide clear to the other side of the valley from here. Then, an invisible hand wrapped around his entire torso, awkwardly folding his wings in against his body and yanked him back. He screamed in impotent rage and summoned fire, but his arms were pinned as well and it only dribbled uselessly down toward the valley below. ¡°Got you, you slippery little bastard!¡± said a gruff voice. The imp landed on the ground, face down, and invisible forces seized his arms and yanked them behind his back none too gently before turning him over. The big, gray-haired man glared at him menacingly and traced a pattern in the air with one finger. A strange, gray flame formed in the air in front of him. It drew the warmth out of his bones, even at this distance, and he felt the skin on his face rapidly dry out and crack under its light. He tried to shrink back away from it, but he couldn¡¯t move. ¡°Alright. Now that I¡¯ve finally got your attention,¡± the human said, ¡°you¡¯re going to tell me how to get out of this place, or I¡¯m going to teach you the true meaning of hell.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know! You can¡¯t!¡± he whimpered in terror. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to be here at all!¡± The human¡¯s expression turned from angry to murderous. Shivering, Gegrenoth closed his eyes and waited for his true death. 2.43 The Guild Library Bernt set out for the Mage¡¯s Guild as soon as he woke up the next morning. He¡¯d been scheduled to work in the evening and he was determined to make the most of the time he had. Things were going to be very busy for a while, but that was going to be true for everyone. The city was in shambles. Right now, though, he needed to get to the guild library. He knew he wasn¡¯t very likely to find useful information on demonology there, but it was somewhere to start. It was time that he learned how to summon demons ¨C specifically Jori. He wasn¡¯t sure why he needed to know right now ¨C if he brought her back, the Solicitors would just find and deport her again. That, and they¡¯d probably kill him as a rogue summoner. Still, he wanted the means to do so. He didn¡¯t have to summon her here after all. He could still become an adventurer, maybe. He was considered a warlock by the Adventurers¡¯ Guild and most of the institutions who bothered to track such things, but attitudes were changing here in Halfbridge, mostly because of the work done by Jori and the Solicitors, ironically. He also had friends, assuming they¡¯d made it through the battle. If he went that route, he wouldn¡¯t have to spend more time here in the city than it took to pick up quests and turn them in. Or, if the fighting got to be too much, they could move cities and he could just do something else. He was a guild member now, and he wasn¡¯t that famous. Not yet, anyway. He¡¯d set a significant portion of the Duergar army on fire with a single spell last night ¨C that was going to make an impression. But how many people actually knew he¡¯d done that? They wouldn¡¯t know his name, right? They could move to Teres and start over. But those were all problems for later. For now, he just needed to get to the guild and see what information he could find. One step at a time. He stepped out into what had been the Crafters¡¯ District, stunned at the scale of the destruction. The small plaza that he should have emerged into was nowhere in evidence, lost in the heaps of rubble that once been homes and businesses. He hoped whoever lived here had been evacuated down into the Undercity ¨C there was no way anyone cowering in one of these buildings would have survived. Looking around at the destruction he realized that their battle down below had been far more limited in scale than the one above. Once he thought about it, the reason for that was obvious. Large scale force or fire spells were dangerous in enclosed spaces, and just as likely to kill your own troops as the enemy if they weren¡¯t perfectly shielded. He always had to be careful how much fire he threw around in a tunnel to avoid cooking himself and his allies ¨C something he¡¯d received an object lesson in last night. Force spells were even worse ¨C concussive force bottled up in a tight space could liquefy organs in a heartbeat. That hadn¡¯t been a problem here for either side, and the city had paid the price. The duergar had no reason to hold back, and adventurers were famous for collateral damage to the point where most cities made quest givers responsible for any damages that adventurers caused within city limits. In a situation like this, though, that wouldn¡¯t apply. At least Bernt doubted it would matter ¨C the city was, in effect, issuing their quest, after all. Carefully Bernt picked his way through the rubble along what he thought was probably the street toward the Lower District. He saw a few soldiers and the occasional civilian digging in the wreckage, but for now the area was relatively empty. They¡¯d already come through to clear out the bodies, but he could still smell them. There would be more under the rubble, he was sure. It only took a few minutes to escape the zone of total destruction around the gate, but the blackened buildings that soon rose around him weren¡¯t going to be habitable again without the aid of a geomancer to repair the cracked walls, not to mention all of the expensive conventional repairs required. Somehow, Bernt doubted that anyone would be moving back in any time soon. Fire had gutted the homes along the wallside street, and when he passed through the gate into the Lower District, it didn¡¯t get any better. This was the poorest part of the city, relatively near the docks, and they had gotten the worst of it. Even though most of the houses here still stood, they were far from the secondary stairwell that the Underkeepers had used to evacuate the residents of the Crafters¡¯ District. How many had made it out? As he continued on, moving westward toward the better-off neighborhoods and the Mages¡¯ Guild, he began to feel nervous. How much of the city had burned? A minute later, he heard the sound of hammering, and then saw a work crew loading rubble into a large, ox-drawn cart. There was noise here ¨C shouting, cursing and the clatter of rocks and lumber being moved. The number of people increased slowly with every building he passed, until it felt like he was looking at a kicked anthill. Workers and local residents dug through burnt out homes, salvaging what was left and clearing damaged beams and brick in anticipation of repairs. Unlike the residents of the earlier neighborhood, the people here had likely had enough warning to get clear. Still, it would take months to recover, and winter was coming on. Bernt suspected that the Undercity was about to grow considerably. ¡°Bernt!¡± someone called his name, and he looked up and around. It was crowded, so it took him a moment to see the man waving at him from across the street. Bernt waved back, doing his best to offer a smile. ¡°Cal! Glad to see you made it! Where¡¯s your cart?¡± Seeing the man, Bernt stomach suddenly growled and he remembered that he hadn¡¯t had much in the way of dinner last night. He needed to find some breakfast Cal grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s gone. My street corner went up in smoke, and I couldn¡¯t haul it by myself. I ended up running down to the river when it got too hot for me ¨C a lot of people did.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Bernt winced in sympathy. Cal¡¯s cart was an institution in the Lower District. His father had bought it decades ago and passed it down to him when he retired. ¡°Are you going to be alright?¡± ¡°Oh, sure. I¡¯ve still got my cabbages, and the sun will grow dark before this city runs out of unidentified meats.¡± He grinned. ¡°Besides, business has been good for me, and at least my house didn¡¯t burn down. I think I can handle buying a new cart.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a relief. Good to see you¡¯re doing alright, then.¡± Bernt smiled again and started to turn to go, but Cal stopped him. ¡°Hold on. I heard the Duergar came out of the Undercity. How is it down there?¡± Bernt let out a slow breath, suppressing a roiling mess of emotions and images that he wished he could unsee. A Duergar spellcaster, writhing on the ground in terror and pain as fire ate him up from inside. Bodies, pieces of bodies, in gray uniforms. Burning goblin. And the smell. A wave of nausea snuffed out his appetite and shook his head, refocusing on the question. ¡°They broke into the tunnel, the main one from the Undercity Gate. We got pushed down, but stopped them, and they came spilling out of the top. As far as I heard, the army cut them off when they tried to retreat the way they came, so they burst down into the Undercity instead. We survived, most of us. But it was bad.¡± Cal nodded, reading the discomfort on Bernt¡¯s face. He clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ¡°Take care of yourself, Bernt. See you around.¡± *** The Mages¡¯ Guild looked completely undamaged, despite the state of its surroundings. Bernt knew that it was probably the most heavily warded structure in the entire city, but knowing and seeing were different things. The buildings across the street were completely gone. Stone and charred bits of wood lay scattered in the street, except near the epicenter of the blast, where the cobblestones themselves had been slagged and nothing else remained except for a small, perfect circle of undamaged stones right in front of the door. What had happened here? He stepped inside. Maybe he could ask the receptionist. For the first time, Bernt found the reception desk unmanned. He supposed he shouldn¡¯t have been surprised, all things considered, but he was. The stern, grumpy man and his monkey familiar were a fixture here, a familiar gate guardian to overcome. Ignoring the odd sense of disappointment he felt, Bernt made his way up the stairs, heading for the second floor, to the back of the massive building where the library was housed. Even though he¡¯d been a guild member for a while now, Bernt had never actually visited the Guild Library. He wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d expected, but it hadn¡¯t been a small wooden door with a simple plaque that simply read ¡°Library¡±. It had no latch. Bernt pushed on the door experimentally, but nothing happened. Was there a spell? He raised his left hand and traced a quick pattern on the door, casting an unlocking cantrip. It, too, did nothing. He thought about it for a moment, and then, feeling a little silly, reached out and knocked. A few seconds passed, then he heard steps approaching. The door opened, revealing a skinny, prematurely balding young man in a dusty old robe. Bernt blinked. ¡°Hallan?¡± Thrown by the unexpected meeting, Bernt didn¡¯t know what to say. He hadn¡¯t kept in touch with his friends from the academy ¨C not after joining the Underkeepers. He¡¯d always imagined that he would look them up once he was a proper adventurer and pretend like the intervening years hadn¡¯t happened. In hindsight, the idea was ridiculous. People didn¡¯t just stay where you left them. How could they? He hadn¡¯t remained the same, either. ¡°Bernt? What are you doing here?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just checking the place out. I got my guild membership recently.¡± Bernt said evasively and stepped inside. Shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls filled the enormous room. Off in one corner, Bernt could even see a section labeled ¡°tablet library¡± most likely containing pre-Madurian originals recovered from archeological sites. He grinned and clapped the bookish man on the shoulder. ¡°I had no idea you were working for the guild! How did you get a job at the library?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Hallan asked, looking genuinely puzzled. ¡°I speak four languages and the divination architecture I¡¯ve started on is literally specialized for librarians ¨C finding lost books, tracking down sources for specific kinds of information. That sort of thing.¡± He turned and gestured all around at the stacks. ¡°They welcomed me with open arms. I¡¯m a junior librarian. Seven years of service and all that. I¡¯ll come out as a magister qualified to work in any guild library in the country. I¡¯m thinking about moving to Teres when I¡¯m done. What happened to you?¡± ¡°Underkeeper.¡± Bernt said simply, gesturing down at his robes and ignoring the way Hallan¡¯s eyebrows rose in surprise. ¡°I was going to go into adventuring, but we¡¯ll see how it works out. There¡¯s been a lot going on.¡± ¡°I know. There was fighting right outside yesterday. I heard Magister Pollock got involved and wiped out half an army with a single spell! There aren¡¯t any spells like that, mind you. Not for magisters ¨C I checked. But that¡¯s the rumor.¡± ¡°Pollock?¡± Bernt tried to picture it, but he couldn¡¯t. ¡°How? He can barely walk!¡± Hallan shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s a wizard and a pyromancer. Based on that and the street outside, I¡¯m going to guess he used fire.¡± Bernt laughed. It felt good, but it didn¡¯t last. Too much had happened, and he had things to do. ¡°Do you have a section on demonology?¡± he asked, thinking quickly. ¡°I¡¯m trying to learn more about the Duergar warlocks and some of the things they were doing in the battle yesterday. If we have to fight them again, I want to be prepared.¡± ¡°Yeah, we do have a section on that kind of stuff ¨C accounts of different kinds of summoners, a bestiary of interplanar beings. It¡¯s not much, but I think you¡¯ll find something. I heard a lot of them used possession pacts. Some of our historical texts mention that kind of thing, but it¡¯s illegal here. One of those ended up fighting a demon in the middle of the city a few weeks ago. Did you hear about that?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Bernt said, smile turning brittle. ¡°I did.¡± 2.44 All The Wrong Revelations The library, as it turned out, did have quite a bit of historical information about the various kinds of pacts that warlocks made and had made in the past. Unfortunately, none of the sources concerned themselves with summoning demons, or any detailed theory on exactly how demonic pacts were formed. Not that he was planning to need that. Still, it might have been worth reading about. Bernt was about to give up, re-shelving a three hundred year-old historical treatise on the crimes of late Madurian warlocks in the Mirian colonies, when a narrow book with a cracked leather cover caught his eye. It was oddly tall and stuck out a bit from the other books, revealing a bit of silver lettering on the cover. On a whim, Bernt pulled it out. It was bound oddly, with pages that felt too tall and narrow compared to the other books here. The full title was ¡®A Summoner¡¯s Guide to Elementals¡¯. Bernt blinked at it dumbly for a moment. It was a book on summoning. He hadn¡¯t noticed it before, because unlike most of the books on these shelves, it didn¡¯t have any lettering on the spine. It wasn¡¯t what he needed, but it had to be useful somehow. His education at the Academy hadn¡¯t been exhaustive regarding other planes, but he knew they were all unique. Still, there had to be some parallels to piercing the veil from one to another. Making a decision, he took the book back to Hallan. ¡°Can I check this out?¡± he asked, holding out the book for him. ¡°It¡¯s not really that relevant, but it caught my eye. Maybe I can learn to summon fire right from the source!¡± Hallan grinned. ¡°Go for it! Seriously, though, I wouldn¡¯t recommend actually trying it. That sounds like a great way to accidentally melt down half the city. And yourself.¡± The junior librarian took the book and noted down its title, the date and Bernt¡¯s name before handing it back. ¡°You can borrow it for two weeks. If you want it longer, you have to bring it back and check it out again or pay a fee.¡± Bernt frowned. ¡°That seems unnecessarily complicated.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± Hallan replied, shaking his head firmly. ¡°It¡¯s psychology. Mages have a way of hoarding books. If we force them to carry them back here every few weeks anyway, they¡¯ll only hold on to those they¡¯re still actively using.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Bernt nodded. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll see you in a couple of weeks then.¡± He started to turn, but then stopped himself. ¡°One more thing. Why do you shelve texts on elemental summoning in the middle of all the warlock stuff? I mean, I¡¯m not complaining, but why?¡± ¡°Because they¡¯re related.¡± Hallan shrugged. ¡°Separating warlocks off as a unique class of spellcaster is mostly a political decision, or a social one, maybe. Doesn¡¯t make sense to separate them in terms of their practice of ritual magic. Over in Miria, they call everyone who summons interplanar creatures a warlock, even the ones who just use elementals.¡± ¡°Right. I guess that makes sense.¡± Bernt nodded. It was all ritual magic, he supposed. In fact, now that he considered it, elemental summoning likely had some overlap with shamanism as well. What was an elemental, if not a natural spirit? It just came from an elemental plane, rather than this one, right? Considering this, Bernt thanked Hallan and excused himself, but he didn¡¯t leave the guild right away. He still had a few hours before work, and the librarian¡¯s earlier mention of Pollock had reminded him of something he¡¯d forgotten in all the turmoil of the past few days, since he¡¯d gotten his second investiture. Hiking up the stairs to the Wizards¡¯ Society, Bernt made his way to Pollock¡¯s office and knocked. ¡°In!¡± the magister¡¯s reedy voice called out and Bernt entered. The old man looked exactly as he always did, sitting behind his desk with an open book sitting on top of two other open books on one side and a disorganized mound of papers on the other. They were covered in partial diagrams and hurriedly scrawled notes, as if he¡¯d been trying to catch each thought and put it down on paper before it escaped. Many were crossed out, and a few scrunched up papers had been tossed clear across the room, where other, much older bits of paper were already collecting dust all around an overflowing trash bin. ¡°Ah, Bernt! I¡¯m glad to see all that unpleasantness yesterday didn¡¯t cost me my young protege. How¡¯s your spellcasting?¡± ¡°Good. Better, at least.¡± Bernt replied, stepping inside and closing the door before settling down in the chair across from the ancient wizard. ¡°I worked out how to manipulate my channels ¨C the sorcerous ones ¨C enough to mostly bypass the investiture. Or, Jori figured it out, actually. With practice, I should be able to incorporate the parts I want into my spells. I think I can confirm the account about the Tib¡¯nar Orcs, too. Watch.¡± Raising both hands Bernt cast a torch spell in his left while pooling mana into white flame on his right. ¡°It takes focus and intent to cast a spell normally, but since the new investiture shapes and activates the mana on its own, I can essentially cast two spells at the same time. It¡¯s just this one spell, but it saved my life a couple of times yesterday. Since the individual flames don¡¯t dissipate, they also build up on the battlefield over time. It¡­ well, it made quite a difference once I realized that I could pull them all together with a control cantrip.¡± Pollock stared wide-eyed at the two different flames flickering in Bernt¡¯s hands. ¡°Remarkable! You spent an entire battle just flinging practically unaltered perpetual flames around willy-nilly? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?¡± ¡°I found out. Yes.¡± Bernt suppressed a shudder as fresh and gruesome memories played before his eyes. ¡°But there wasn¡¯t much choice, and the chance of friendly fire was low.¡± ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t ignite anything that¡¯ll make a bigger fire than you can handle.¡± Pollock said in a heavy tone that made Bernt suspect he was speaking from experience. ¡°Sometimes, the collateral damage¡­¡± he stopped, apparently lost in a painful memory of his own. Then he blinked and he was back. ¡°Well. Just be sure you know what you¡¯re lighting on fire, alright?¡± Bernt nodded and let the silence settle for a moment before reaching into his bag. Pulling out his mysterious wizard¡¯s journal he set it down on the table. ¡°You said that, when we fixed my spiritual injury, you were going to tell me what the author of this thing was trying to do.¡± He held up his right hand as if to demonstrate. His sleeve fell down, and the glowing patterns of the perpetual flame¡¯s spellform cast a soft glow out from under his skin. ¡°I spent an entire battle casting one spell after another, and I don¡¯t feel a thing. It¡¯s fixed. So, what was the old archwizard up to?¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Pollock watched him thoughtfully for a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t know that we¡¯ve really solved your problem. As you just said, you¡¯re still working on adjusting to your new situation. We barely even know what it is. Don¡¯t you think your attention is best focused on that for the time being?¡± ¡°Maybe.¡± Bernt said. ¡°But maybe not. You seemed pretty excited about it at the time. I¡¯m trying to decide what I can do now, sure, but I need to know how to move forward, too. And, well, I¡¯ve been thinking. If I can cast two spells at the same time, then the diagrams in the book don¡¯t seem quite as impossible anymore. Don¡¯t get me wrong. I can¡¯t cast these spellforms here, but¡­ well, I can do something. If I learn more about what this archwizard was thinking, I might learn something about where I could take this.¡± Magister Pollock pursed his lips for a moment, then grimaced and grabbed the book. ¡°Oh, alright. But only because you¡¯re dead right! I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be able to do it so quickly, or that it would be so simple to do.¡± He flipped the book open and began to leaf through it. ¡°Here, at the back, he discusses his ¡®soul shaping¡¯. That¡¯s an archaic way to talk about mana architectures.¡± Bernt sat up straighter. That did sound interesting. ¡°He wrote down his architecture? How did I miss that? What investitures did he use?¡± ¡°No, no. Nothing so specific. It¡¯s not important. Information about specific novel investitures can be fun, but they¡¯re not that interesting for a wizard. What you want to look out for are the ideas behind them. The why. That¡¯s what this section here is about.¡± Pollock pointed at a page containing three short paragraphs. There were no reference diagrams in this part of the journal, and Bernt couldn¡¯t remember if he¡¯d tried to decipher it himself. ¡°He tried to develop an augmentation to help him disintegrate normal matter into its constituent elements, and another one for what he calls ¡®reintegration¡¯. Do you see what he was doing?¡± Bernt nodded. ¡°Sure. He was going to try to create two separate augmentations in hopes that he could work out a way to combine them to cast a single spell to transmute matter. That, or maybe he decided that he could cast them sequentially. If he could do that, he would just have to tweak the spellform for the reintegration augmentation a bit to change the output.¡± ¡°Almost.¡± Pollock said. ¡°And I doubt it would work sequentially. Spells to reconfigure more basic forms of matter into more complex forms isn¡¯t new, and there¡¯s a reason we don¡¯t generally use it. It takes too much energy, and you have to know precisely what elements you¡¯re dealing with. Very clunky, and not very useful.¡± He flipped excitedly back toward the front of the book and showed him one of the diagrams. ¡°The way the shells are formed in these diagrams suggest that the reintegration part of the spell is supposed to draw on the energy released by the disintegration process in a pattern describing the original material. So, in a way, the first part of the spell gives the second part instructions on exactly what it¡¯s reintegrating, and supplies the energy to do so in the process. It¡¯s genius!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Bernt said. ¡°Maybe if it worked¡­¡± Pollock tapped the side of his nose. ¡°Ah, but I think it did! Think about it! He didn¡¯t need the augmentation to do all the work ¨C just one of the spells. Most likely, he could have manually cast his disintegration spell through the reintegration augmentation. The resulting spellform would likely require a lot of adjustment before it would work, but I don¡¯t see why it shouldn¡¯t be possible. ¡°So, you think he already could transmute materials, but it would have been excruciatingly slow to cast.¡± ¡°Right, and that¡¯s what this third augmentation was supposed to be for. He thought that if he could get a complementary third augmentation, it and the previous two might fuse into¡­ well, some kind of super-augmentation, the same way that investitures synergize once they fuse into an augmentation. We don¡¯t have a word for that, because no one¡¯s ever succeeded, so far as we know.¡± Bernt sat back, trying to let the implications sink in. Three augmentations. He had the notes of someone who¡¯d actually tried it. Not that there was much to go on. It sounded like the author had mainly attempted it to try to gloss over the problems with his initial architecture. But that brought up another question. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t he use both augmentations in a single spell to begin with?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°I mean, I know that you can¡¯t ¨C the lecturers at the academy were clear about that ¨C but it¡¯s not something they went in-depth about, since the fewest people actually attempt more than one. It¡¯s not as though they¡¯re not already connected within the same mana network. What¡¯s actually stopping him from using both? ¡°Ah.¡± Pollock frowned severely. ¡°I¡¯m surprised standards have slipped so much at the Academy, then. As I mentioned before, the why of an issue is often far more important than simple information without context.¡± Bernt made a vague noise of agreement, trying not to seem impatient. ¡°You can apply any part of or all of your spirit to the casting of any single spell.¡± Pollock went on, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. ¡°Or rather, a typical mage can. We¡¯ve already learned that your sorcerous investiture doesn¡¯t work this way. Excluding any part of your mana network when casting requires incredible control of your internal mana flow. Developing that normally takes years of dedicated practice, and it¡¯s something few non-archmages bother to master. As you know, each investiture built into your mana network will attempt to weave itself into the spell you are casting. Your two investitures are highly compatible, so it¡¯s not an issue for you, but if they were too incompatible, they would scramble your spellforms to the point that they would be nearly impossible to cast. It¡¯s one of the most common pitfalls for wizards attempting to develop their own augmentations ¨C few institutions will invest in a mage who won¡¯t be able to cast spells for years, much less a wizard whose future capabilities are completely unknown.¡± Bernt winced. He understood the issue of incompatible investitures, of course ¨C but he hadn¡¯t really considered what it meant for wizards. Unlike mages, they were often taking shots into the dark with their investitures. If the second investiture didn¡¯t work as planned, odds were that they needed to take time to analyze the result and rethink their future development as well. ¡°Traditional mages don¡¯t generally have this problem, they¡¯ll know what¡¯s coming, so they can gather the material they need for their third investiture and finish the augmentation as quickly as possible. Once the investitures are fused, they function as a whole. Whenever you cast a spell, the augmentation will greatly modify and augment the spellform in a way that expresses all the constituent investitures to their fullest compatible extent.¡± Bernt nodded, understanding where Pollock was going. ¡°You¡¯re saying that, if this archwizard tried to use both augmentations, the resulting spellform would be too scrambled to make sense of.¡± The wizard nodded emphatically. ¡°That¡¯s right. The augmentations don''t naturally synergize. It would be an enormous mess ¨C orders of magnitude more complex than incompatible investitures. Practically impossible to make sense of, much less to adjust into a usable form.¡± ¡°Alright, but how do we know he didn¡¯t succeed with the third augmentation? What if he died before he could tell anyone, or if he just wanted to keep it a secret?¡± Pollock shrugged. ¡°Because of where you found the notebook. My guess is that he tried to barter his knowledge for some kind of support from the elder dragon. A near-immortal like that, who has spent untold millennia collecting secrets and magical knowledge would be the perfect source of information for this kind of thing. The dragon probably just wasn¡¯t very impressed with his work.¡± Pollock looked down at the book for a moment before flipping it closed and setting it down on the table. ¡°Or maybe none of this was news to him. Who knows what kinds of secrets an elder dragon might be hoarding, after all?¡± Bernt frowned, thinking for a moment as he picked it up and stowed it back in his bag. Could any of this help him? For that matter, what would happen when he attempted his next investiture. Would it even be able to fuse into an augmentation? What was going to happen? ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much about the dead archwizard or his project.¡± Pollock said, correctly interpreting Bernt¡¯s expression. ¡°You still have a lot of work to do understanding where you are now. You should spend the time to find your footing properly before you try to forge ahead. The notebook is fascinating, certainly, but you shouldn¡¯t let that distract you from yourself and what you want to do.¡± Bernt nodded. Pollock had been right. It was fascinating, but for now, it was just a distraction. 2.45 Warlock Propaganda Frustration roiled in Bernt''s stomach as he made his way out of the building. The library hadn¡¯t been entirely a dead end, but it wasn¡¯t going to help him get Jori back any time soon. He¡¯d been hoping that he might stumble across something, anything that could help right now. As he had that thought, though, Bernt realized just how ridiculous it sounded. He wasn¡¯t acting rationally, here ¨C he was grasping at straws. This wasn¡¯t helping. He needed to start thinking things through. Ed was gone, and so was Jori. Maybe he could eventually learn how to summon her without immediately being found out, but it wouldn¡¯t be soon, or here. The Solicitors were going to watch him closely as long as he was in the city, he was certain. And there was nothing he could do about Ed. Maybe nothing anyone could do. But at least he wouldn¡¯t be the only one interested in finding a solution. He took the other way back toward the Undercity Gate, cutting through the Temple District to avoid most of the destruction. While the buildings here still stood, the place was practically deserted. Most of the people who worked here would be tending the wounded for days yet ¨C burns were difficult to heal properly, even for clerics. His moment of clarity earlier felt as though it had kicked something loose in his mind, allowing him to finally step back and look at the situation more objectively ¨C if only a little. And as he considered what had happened more carefully, he kept coming back to a few specific details. Jori hadn¡¯t waited to be deported. She¡¯d gone back herself, despite the fact that she hated the hells. He¡¯d felt her determination as well as her reluctance, even as she did it. Besides that, there were her words to consider, both as she left, and in the hours and days before. She¡¯d gone back to save someone. Someones, rather. Bernt recalled the strange comments she¡¯d made, and her refusal to talk about it when he asked. The pain she felt when she thought about home. And then yesterday, how she¡¯d called out to the enemy imps by name. She¡¯d gone to save them, somehow, Bernt was certain. Them, and Ed. Hopefully. Jori liked and respected the old man, and she¡¯d seen what happened to him just as well as Bernt had. But did that change what he was going to do? Not much, Bernt decided. He needed to slow down, that was true, but it wasn¡¯t illegal to learn summoning rituals, provided he could find the information. He could decide whether and how to use it later. If nothing else, it would provide him with new options. The most obvious person to ask about it was Josie, but he doubted she would help. She was happy to see Jori under the Solicitors¡¯ thumb, and thought that if they simply waited long enough, the imp would agree to a pact with one of them. Bernt knew better, though ¨C he¡¯d felt Jori¡¯s reaction when he¡¯d offered to pact her. Then a woman¡¯s voice interrupted his train of thought. ¡°That¡¯s right! I heard the goddess blessed her and she tore right through the Duergar army to drag their evil prince straight down to the hells to punish his transgressions.¡± Bernt perked up, looking left and right. That voice sounded familiar. ¡°Can you imagine it? A demon with Ruzinia¡¯s own favor! A goddess for desperate times, that is.¡± When Bernt found the speaker, he frowned in confusion. She was an old woman wearing a worn off-white robe with her gray hair tied back. She was gossiping to a young man selling sticky buns on the corner. Her face looked so familiar, but he couldn¡¯t place her. The ludicrous nature of the gossip didn¡¯t provide any clues, either. He shook his head and continued on, stepping through the gate on the far end of the District into the ravaged Crafter¡¯s District. Only then did it click. The old woman was a Solicitor ¨C her hair had hung in a ragged bush around her head yesterday, but it was her. She¡¯d been there last night, at the battle. The Solicitors were spreading rumors about what had happened last night, trying to twist the narrative to their advantage. And they were trying to make it sound like Jori¡¯s disappearance had to do with her defeat of Nuros, not the Solicitors¡¯ ultimatum. Moreover, they were trying to give her credit for Torvald¡¯s contribution to the battle to make her out as some kind of holy figure. Why not? It wasn¡¯t as though anyone could prove differently, now that she was gone. Nobody in the Temple District would believe it, of course, but it made for a great story. Bernt had no doubt that the rumor mill would cement Jori¡¯s supposed canonization into the local lore for generations to come. Ice cold anger condensed in the pit of Bernt¡¯s stomach. Radast was trying to profit from Jori after sending her back to the hells, and it was going to work. He could see through it now ¨C what they¡¯d been doing. There was no way they could have planned it this perfectly, but they¡¯d set themselves up to be able to capitalize on anything she did. Radast was probably delighted at how it had all turned out. The Solicitors had insisted that the Underkeepers and the Mages¡¯ Guild take responsibility for her, but they had worked hard to maintain Jori¡¯s association with them in the mind of the public. Josie had seen to that. Now, they were going to burnish Jori¡¯s image to a shine using a combination of half-truths and outright fabrication and leverage it for all it was worth. And everyone was going to let it happen. Why wouldn¡¯t they? The Solicitors were Ed and Iriala¡¯s allies. This was going to strengthen their political position in the city. Worse, with Ed gone for the foreseeable future, the Underkeepers didn¡¯t have an archmage anymore ¨C they would need all the support they could get. Bernt ground his teeth. He couldn¡¯t believe that he hadn¡¯t seen it. They¡¯d set her up as a pawn, to be disposed of as soon as she became inconvenient. It was so obvious in hindsight ¨C they hadn¡¯t even tried to hide it. No, he was the fool here. He¡¯d imagined that, because of Jori¡¯s growing reputation and the way she¡¯d befriended Josie, the Solicitors might have started to see her a little differently. That they¡¯d find a way to work something out, if he was willing to make a compromise. But of course they hadn¡¯t. He¡¯d been naive and allowed his own wishful thinking to get the better of him. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. It was exactly the sort of thing he should have expected from Solicitors. *** ¡°I don¡¯t care if it was an accident or who was doing what at whatever time.¡± Iriala said sternly, staring at the Chief Solicitor over the rims of her glasses. ¡°I am here to find solutions, and you are going to help me. If you choose not to cooperate, I will assume foul play and take appropriate measures on my own. Do I make myself clear?¡± The younger man maintained his composure admirably, but she could see the sheen of sweat at the base of his neck. He was nervous, and it was making him act foolishly. Why would she want to hear his version of events if she suspected him of trying to purposely dispose of Ed? Besides, she saw what happened with her own eyes and knew it hadn¡¯t been on purpose. Only an idiot betrayed an ally while they were being overrun. Of course, that wasn¡¯t to say she wouldn¡¯t personally destroy this man if he didn¡¯t apply himself to finding a satisfactory solution. ¡°There¡¯s no need for threats.¡± Radast responded smoothly. ¡°Of course we will provide whatever information and assistance that we can. Our relationship with both Archmage Thurdred and yourself have been nothing but advantageous, and doing anything less would be nothing short of self-sabotage. Besides, mutual aid is a clause in our contract.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Iriala said shortly. ¡°Then, what do you have?¡± Radast reached into a hidden pocket in his robes and drew out a scroll, which he unrolled on Iriala¡¯s desk. ¡°While our maps of the third hell are incomplete, it¡¯s still by far the best-understood of the hells. This map based on the reports of summoned demons, and includes major landmarks, rivers, and cities. Iriala frowned. ¡°Demons have cities?¡± ¡°Of course. Spawnlings behave much like animals, like some of the less-intelligent types of demons, but most kinds of demons eventually assimilate into a sort of civilization they have. Their hierarchical nature lends itself well to these kinds of efforts. Each major city is ruled by a greater demon, who might subjugate other powerful demons and their cities in turn to create a kind of empire. Nuros doesn¡¯t rule any city that I¡¯m aware of, but Varamemnon does.¡± Radast pointed to a dot on the map labeled in demonic runes, which Iriala couldn¡¯t read. ¡°He¡¯s a class 9 demon and his city sits at the wellspring of this river, here. Nuros and his servants were most likely summoned from within his territory, so that¡¯s where the archmage will have been pulled when they were banished.¡± Iriala grunted noncommittally. This was a godsdamned disaster. Who had ever heard of someone getting bodily dragged into the hells? If she hadn¡¯t seen it through her own scrying lenses, she wouldn¡¯t have believed it. ¡°Can we confirm whether he¡¯s even still alive?¡± Radast maintained his stiff posture, but fiddled with his robes unconsciously. ¡°No, but we should assume that he¡¯s fine for now. Unless he appeared right in the middle of their city, he¡¯s very unlikely to run into anything he couldn¡¯t handle. A class 3 imp like the one that took him would spend most of its time outside, foraging for unclaimed souls to bring to its master.¡± ¡°Alright. What can we do with that, then? I assume you can¡¯t just go and get him.¡± The chief solicitor shook his head. ¡°No. Traveling there is, as you might have guessed, relatively simple. It¡¯s even been used as a dramatic method of execution in some places historically. The problem is getting back out. The only method that I¡¯ve heard of is from old stories and imperial records.¡± Iriala scowled at that, and Radast hurried to continue. ¡°It¡¯s plausible, though! It runs parallel to the way the archmage was drawn there in the first place. He needs to be touching a demon as it is summoned back to our plane.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Iriala said, relaxing. Why hadn¡¯t he just led with that? ¡°That¡¯s not too bad. You just have to bind a demon to go find him, deport it and then summon it back at predetermined intervals with instructions to take him along whenever it makes contact.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Radast said carefully. ¡°That¡¯s going to be a problem, actually. Demons don¡¯t accept pacts that attempt to compromise their loyalties and obligations on their home plane. There are some theories that posit we can¡¯t bind them outside the material realm at all, though I consider those to be problematic.¡± That was, indeed, going to be an issue. Pursing her lips in thought, Iriala considered for a moment. ¡°We only have maybe a week or two. Ed can conjure enough water to sustain himself, I¡¯m sure, but I doubt he can do food. Can you do something more informal? A trade of some kind, maybe.¡± Radast nodded uncertainly. ¡°We could try it. Time pressure makes this even more complicated, though. The bomber that attacked our offices managed to destroy our reagent stores, so I¡¯ll need to send my people out to look for what we need. It¡¯s unlikely that we¡¯ll have the resources to just summon random demons until we find one close enough to reach him in time. Fortunately, we do have the name of an imp that Josie recorded in one of her reports. It should be in the region somewhere, but there¡¯s no guarantee that it¡¯ll cooperate. Demons rarely break their word directly, but they¡¯ll still do it occasionally ¨C especially if they consider the summoner an enemy, which this one certainly will. ¡± ¡°Then we¡¯ll just have to make it a good offer,¡± Iriala said with more confidence than she felt. Ed couldn¡¯t afford for them to wait around wringing their hands. ¡°I¡¯ll arrange the supplies and notify the Underkeepers, so whoever¡¯s in charge there right now can pass along a message if they like. When can you do it?¡± Radast rose, offering her a respectful nod. ¡°I think we can do it tonight. ¡± ¡°Wait a second.¡± Iriala said, as he turned to go. ¡°Speaking of imps, why don¡¯t we send Bernt¡¯s imp after him ¨C Jori? She has both a contractual relationship and a personal attachment to Ed. Even if she has to travel farther, she¡¯d be more reliable, and we could send her right now. I assume you¡¯ll need to deport her anyway, now that she has ascended again.¡± ¡°Ah. yes," the warlock said with a wince. "That¡¯s already been done, unfortunately, so I¡¯m afraid we would need to summon her as well. We can certainly attempt it, provided we can acquire enough reagents for multiple summonings. Still, Dzhorianath could be anywhere ¨C we have no idea where she was originally summoned from, and she couldn¡¯t tell us, as she wasn¡¯t sapient at the time of her summoning. For all we know, she might be over a months¡¯ travel away. She should be considered as a contingency at best.¡± Radast turned to go, but then continued the motion, spinning around entirely with his finger raised as if he¡¯d just thought of something. ¡°One more thing. It may also be worth it to bring the young Underkeeper into this, if he can be persuaded to cooperate. The imp listens to him, and while she doesn¡¯t appear to bear us specific ill will, she made it clear that she doesn¡¯t wish to work with us for the time being.¡± As the man swept out of her office, Iriala took off her glasses and rubbed at her tired eyes. This wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d had to take measures to pull Ed¡¯s ass out of the fire. This, though, was getting ridiculous. 2.46 Confrontation ¡°Damnit, Bernt! I didn¡¯t know it was going to go like that, alright? I told you that you should have pacted Jori from the start!¡± Josie snapped, her face red with anger. Bernt didn¡¯t care ¨C he was angry, too. He¡¯d found her in the courtyard when he arrived at work and cornered her immediately to demand an explanation for what he¡¯d just overheard. ¡°Jori didn¡¯t want a pact in the first place. Especially not after she saw the kinds of pacts you use here. How can you expect someone to agree to that in the first place? She¡¯d be a slave.¡± Josie¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°No she wouldn¡¯t. A demon can¡¯t be enslaved by a human ¨C not really. She¡¯d be bound to behave and follow lawful orders while she¡¯s here. The distinction is important. Demons are always free to leave at any time and resume their lives in the hells however they like. That means any pact a demon will accept is accepted by choice. It¡¯s employment, not slavery, and the termination clause is frankly better than what you have at the Underkeepers. Did you know you have to give a month¡¯s notice before you can leave?¡± Bernt threw up his hands. ¡°Those were her words! Do you really think the technicalities matter here? Besides, that¡¯s not even the point. You¡¯re lying about what Jori did and using it as propaganda to make the Solicitors look good!¡± Josie groaned. ¡°What does it matter, Bernt? It¡¯s good for the Mages¡¯ Guild and the Underkeepers, too. And you know just as well as I do that Jori would be delighted if she heard the stories they¡¯re telling out there. This is good for her, too.¡± She emphasized the last sentence a little, as if willing him to understand something, but Bernt had had enough games and intrigue for a lifetime. ¡°It matters because it¡¯s wrong! It¡¯s wrong to punish someone for saving your life, and it¡¯s even more wrong to spin lies about it to take advantage of someone you betrayed like that, all just to look good in front of other people.¡± Josie¡¯s face fell at his description, though it was quickly swallowed in a professional mask. ¡°I understand that you¡¯re distraught, but you¡¯re not thinking it through.¡± She manifested her claws on one hand and laid them on Bernt¡¯s chest, pushing him back firmly. He stepped back quickly, despite his armored robes ¨C he¡¯d seen what they could do. ¡°Don¡¯t corner me like that again in the future, it¡¯s rude. We¡¯ll talk about it later, when you¡¯ve had some time.¡± Bernt tried to think of an adequate retort as she walked away, but nothing came to mind. How had she managed to make him feel like the asshole now? *** The first few hours of the shift passed quickly. There were a lot of new people in the Undercity, and Fiora set him up at a table in front of the Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters along with several others to help organize and register the masses of evacuees from the Crafter¡¯s and Lower Districts. All in all, nearly two thousand people had found refuge in the Undercity ¨C more than Bernt had expected would have been able to make it down the stairs in the time they¡¯d had. Today, those numbers were only growing. Many of the residents who had fled into the Temple District and other parts of the city had no homes to return to, and some of those who did couldn¡¯t return yet, because the streets were blocked by debris and as yet undiscovered bodies. The army and the City Guard had cleared the bodies as best they could, but there hadn¡¯t been time to dig through most of the rubble yet. There was no official death toll, yet, but Bernt knew it had to be significant. Whatever Ed had expected to happen, his foresight was proving its value now. Kustov¡¯s secret project ¨C a massive new cavern complex that had housed nearly a thousand evacuees last night, was quickly filling up with even more people streaming in from the partially gutted Lower District. The Goblin Quarter, ironically, still wasn¡¯t fully populated. A few families settled into the empty homes there, preferring the better-prepared quarters to what was available in the newest construction. Most, though, were deterred by its unofficial designation as a proverbial goblin den. Bernt was registering one such family and helping them fill out a temporary change of address form for the Official Records Office when Nirlig tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Fiora wants you in Ed¡¯s office,¡± he murmured to him before turning to the young human woman wrangling her toddler while trying to make sense of the abstruse form. He made faces at the little boy until he laughed, and then picked him up, flashing the mother a wide grin. ¡°Hi there! Change of address? Let me walk you through it. Oh, this is right down the street from my house. We¡¯re going to be neighbors!¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Leaving them in the gregarious goblin¡¯s capable care, Bernt made his way inside. The Underkeepers¡¯ complex felt oddly empty as he hurried down the main hallway, reminding him just how many people they¡¯d lost last night. There was supposed to be a memorial ceremony tomorrow for Glim, Rindle and the others. Bernt had worked with most of them at some point and it felt strange to think that they were just gone. It didn¡¯t feel real, as if any of them might be sitting in the break room right now. The door to Ed¡¯s office was open and Fiora was sitting behind his desk, signing papers of some variety or another. Bernt hadn¡¯t learned until today just how much paperwork was involved in war ¨C specifically in cleaning up after one. Waiting until she flipped a sheet over onto the pile of finished documents, Bernt knocked on the door frame. ¡°You called?¡± Fiora looked up. ¡°Ah, Bernt. Yes. You and I are going over to the temporary Solicitors¡¯ Office over in the Crafters¡¯ Quarter. They¡¯re going to try to send supplies to Ed, and they want you to help.¡± Bernt frowned. ¡°How could I possibly help with that?¡± *** Bernt tried not to fidget under the stern gaze of Archmage Iriala as they waited to be brought into the Solicitors¡¯ ritual chamber. He¡¯d tried to go inside to watch them prepare the summoning when they arrived, but a sour-faced warlock had barred his way. It had been worth a try, at least. They were going to summon Jori! Considering they were going to summon her specifically, it was exactly what he needed. If he could just watch, he might learn how it was done. ¡°Do you think you will be able to convince your imp to help?¡± Iriala asked, breaking the silence. Bernt frowned at her. ¡°What do you mean? It¡¯s Ed. Of course she¡¯s going to help him.¡± The archmage made a doubtful noise and Bernt¡¯s frown deepened. Jori had never done anything to suggest that she couldn¡¯t be trusted. In fact, it was the Solicitors and institutions like the Mages¡¯ Guild that insisted on continuing to treat her with suspicion that she very clearly hadn¡¯t earned. He was about to say something when Fiora put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°We understand your concern, archmage, but I agree with him. Jori considers Ed to be an ally. Even released from her obligations to him, I think she¡¯ll still help. She likes him. Besides, wasn¡¯t this your idea?¡± ¡°Yes, for lack of any better options.¡± Iriala sighed. ¡°They¡¯re going to try to bribe one of the enemy imps first ¨C one that they got the name of somehow.¡± Bernt perked up at that. ¡°Are they going to bribe Jori? What do you think they¡¯ll offer?¡± Fiora shook her head. ¡°Not that. They¡¯re a legal organization ¨C they can¡¯t offer anything that they can¡¯t legally justify to the government, and Radast obviously doesn¡¯t want to bring her back, anyway. Those rumors they¡¯re telling about her are a lot easier to believe if you haven¡¯t actually met her.¡± The low murmur on the other side of the door subsided, replaced by a single voice chanting something unintelligible. That continued for a minute or so before it cut off. Someone cursed and a few other people started talking. The door opened and a mild herbal smell accompanied by an acrid undertone wafted out. Then Josie stepped out, dressed in a brown robe and wearing a troubled expression. ¡°Gegrenoth is dead. That, or bound by a greater demon, but that isn¡¯t very likely.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Fiora asked. ¡°Demons don¡¯t die, right? If he got torn up in the fight before the banishment ritual, he should still have just reformed in the hells. For all we know, he never even returned after Jori killed him on your patrol.¡± ¡°It means he was killed there, not here. Demons that survive long enough to go through a metamorphosis tend to live a long time, but a class 3 imp isn¡¯t anywhere near the top of the food chain. Maybe its master killed it for incompetence, or a more powerful fiend got it, or there¡¯s a war on in the hells themselves. It could be anything.¡± Iriala nodded impatiently. ¡°Alright, alright, we get it. What does this mean for Ed? Josie shrugged, turning back toward the ritual room. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to hope that Jori is nearby.¡± She closed the door and, a few moment later, the chanting started up again. The sound rose and fell, and for a moment Bernt feared that this summoning would fail, too. But then, suddenly, Jori was there. He could see Radast¡¯s infuriatingly professional smile through the bond. Jori was first surprised, then annoyed. Then she realized that Bernt was nearby and grew curious. ¡°Great One,¡± she said formally to Radast. ¡°What¡¯s going on? I was in the middle of something!¡± Finally, Josie opened the door to let them in. Trying to project a sense of wariness and urgency to Jori, Bernt followed Iriala and Fiora inside. She was standing inside a circle of script that appeared to be drawn in blood ¨C hopefully Radast¡¯s. It was nowhere near as complex as what he¡¯d drawn out in the pact description that they¡¯d offered Jori when they¡¯d first met. Presumably this one was just to assist the summoning itself, or maybe for containment, if they were paranoid. Jori¡¯s robes were singed at the edges. Had that been from the battle, or was she fighting in the hells? She grinned at them and waved. ¡°Bernt, Josie! Hi guys!¡± Then she turned to Iriala, whom she acknowledged with a tiny bow, followed by another wave to Fiora. 2.47 Help Is On The Way Radast turned to look at Bernt, and only then did he realize that he was supposed to do the talking. Somehow, he¡¯d expected that he was just supposed to be there to symbolically lend his support. He cleared his throat. It felt strange to talk to her like this, with everybody watching them ¡°Have you managed to find Ed already? They said he should be somewhere nearby, as long as you¡¯re still anywhere near where the rest of your pack was. One of them grabbed him, right?¡± Jori scowled. ¡°Yeah, I saw it. It was Gegrenoth. I killed him days ago! I couldn¡¯t believe that he was back already. The duergar warlocks must have summoned him back almost immediately.¡± Bernt gave her a grim smile. ¡°The Solicitors just tried to summon him. They say he¡¯s dead. Properly, I mean.¡± Jori cocked her head to the side in surprise and looked over at Josie, who nodded in confirmation. Then she nodded firmly. ¡°Good! I didn''t like him!¡± ¡°Do you know where the rest of your pack are? Can you find Ed?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been looking. None of the demons I asked knew about a mortal in the hells. But I will find them, I know where to go! Varamemnon rules a city called Varadon. Or he is the city. They weren''t very clear. Nuros is one of his servants, so he must come from there. The weaker members of the pack will be outside somewhere, searching together to gather souls for their master. Stronger imps like Gegrenoth work alone.¡± ¡°How long will that take, do you think?¡± Iriala asked. ¡°Can you find him in a week?¡± ¡°Varamemnon is mighty and his territory is vast,¡± Jori said. ¡°But rumors spread fast, I think, and mortals don¡¯t normally come to us whole.¡± She looked from Iriala to Bernt, and then looked pointedly down at the circle at her feet. ¡°It will take longer if you keep me here long.¡± Radast cleared his throat, apparently annoyed that he was being ignored. ¡°Rest assured that we will return you in short order. The purpose of this summons is to provide you with supplies for our errant archmage. He¡¯s going to get hungry soon, assuming he didn¡¯t bring any rations of his own, which we can¡¯t assume. Will you agree to bring him what he needs?¡± Iriala stepped forward and held out a satchel, which the imp accepted wordlessly. Jori¡¯s nose wrinkled as she sniffed at it, then opened the top to look inside. Unsatisfied, she reached in and drew out a package of food. ¡°Are there spicy wraps? I will bring the Great One this food, but I want spicy wraps!¡± The archmage looked confused, but Radast only nodded. ¡°We will add some spicy wraps for you. I¡¯d also like to check in with you in three days¡¯ time, and again every three days after that until we can extract Archmage Thurdred. To that end, you¡¯ll be required to seize him during transport to draw him back into this plane ¨C essentially the same process by which he was taken.¡± Jori blinked. ¡°You can bring him back?¡± ¡°We simply need you to seize hold of him at the appointed time.¡± Radast clarified. Bernt could practically feel the wheels turn in Jori¡¯s mind as she processed this information. Then, she turned a calculating gaze on the Solicitor in front of her. ¡°I will not ¨C I need his help. You can summon Ed back when we are done.¡± Rock solid confidence radiated from Jori through the bond, accompanied by a measure of relief. If he was interpreting it correctly, she¡¯d worried that they would bring Ed back too soon. Bernt wished he could talk to Jori in private for a few minutes. He could guess why she wanted Ed¡¯s help. She was planning some way to break her packmates free of Nuros¡¯ control ¨C probably by killing the fiend that had bound them. He wasn¡¯t sure what she wanted to do after that, but he guessed she would try to get them summoned into the material plane. Considering her aversion to the Solicitors¡¯ pact requirements, that wasn¡¯t going to happen any time soon, nor anywhere that the Solicitors had any real influence. But why was she suddenly in such a hurry to get this done? She hadn¡¯t expressed any real urgency before. He tried to convey his questions to her through their bond, but either he didn¡¯t do it right or Jori couldn¡¯t parse the clunky method of communication. She threw him a confused and slightly annoyed glance before turning back to Radast, who was watching her with narrowed eyes. ¡°What do you require?¡± he asked after a moment. Jori scowled. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to haggle with you. I will help Great One Ed and give him the food. You can have him back when we¡¯re done! Then you can help me, too!¡± ¡°What manner of help?¡± Radast asked in exactly the same tone as before. ¡°I want to stay here!¡± Jori demanded. ¡°You will agree to let me remain in Halfbridge. Ed will vouch for me, and so will you and the Great Mage.¡± ¡°You know perfectly well that we aren¡¯t able to offer that. As I already explained to you, your prior arrangement already relied on an untested legal argument. There simply is no legal basis I can use to justify your presence here so long as you refuse to be appropriately pacted.¡± Jori¡¯s eyes narrowed, and Bernt felt anger flare in her chest at the warlock¡¯s use of the word ¡°appropriately.¡± She opened her mouth to retort, but only a small hiss escaped before Josie interrupted her. ¡°We could sue for an exception!¡± Radast turned to look at her, startled at the suggestion. Then he pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. After a few seconds, he frowned at her in bemusement. ¡°Based on what? The law is clear ¨C she¡¯s grown too powerful. Class 3 demons are classified as imminent threats to Beseri civilians and infrastructure by default. We¡¯re required to deport them without delay.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t need to be strictly a legal argument.¡± Josie countered. ¡°We could argue that she¡¯s due consideration for extraordinary services rendered to the kingdom against the Duergar. Or I could file for a legal review to test whether her deportation was legal in the first place ¨C there was some legal ambiguity there. It could force the Royal Magistrate in Teres to reconcile the law, and it might come out in Jori¡¯s favor.¡± ¡°What ambiguity?¡± Radast said, sounding curious and annoyed at the same time. ¡°Jori is a registered government employee.¡± Josie explained. ¡°She draws a salary. We¡¯re not a government organization, so by deporting her, we¡¯re preventing her from performing her duties to the count, and by extension the crown. That¡¯s a crime, just as not deporting her would have been. If the Underkeepers sue, or if we file a request, they can¡¯t ignore it. In fact, it¡¯s more likely to succeed if the Underkeepers sue either us or the government directly.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± Radast hummed in consideration. ¡°It¡¯s technically a conflict, but I doubt there¡¯s much chance of it coming out in Dzhorianath¡¯s favor. She had a contract signed by Archmage Thurdred that explicitly required her not to advance to class 3 on pain of deportation, after all.¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Josie waved away his objections. ¡°True enough, but that wasn¡¯t her employment contract. I helped her negotiate it. If I go in person, I can make sure they don¡¯t ignore the details. It¡¯s all there if¨C¡± ¡°I want it!¡± Jori interrupted excitedly. ¡°Josie will go to tell the king that his law violates the obligations of his servants. She must do her best to get a favorable result. In exchange, I will return the Great Mage Ed. I will bring him with me when our task is complete.¡± Josie started to nod, but Iriala put a hand on her shoulder, shaking her head. ¡°Not good enough. You¡¯ll pass messages ¨C unaltered messages ¨C between us and Ed. And, at the very latest, you¡¯ll agree to return Ed by the time that Josie returns from Teres, regardless of the judgment she brings with her.¡± Jori grinned. ¡°Done!¡± Then, without waiting for a response or any further warning, she disappeared in a burst of violet flame. Bernt flinched. She hadn''t bled on the rune circle to activate it this time. How did it work? Radast fixed Iriala with a level stare. ¡°You should have argued for a shorter time frame, archmage. Unless Josie is rejected outright, she could be arguing this case for as long as it takes them to rewrite the relevant laws ¨C potentially both employment law, and the relevant restrictions on demons. It could literally take years.¡± Iriala grimaced and sighed. ¡°Well, at least the imp probably doesn¡¯t know that.¡± Bernt looked over to Josie, who returned his gaze with a challenging look. He smiled at her, trying to convey the gratitude he felt without saying anything in front of Radast. Bernt knew that Radast regarded him with suspicion, and it would be problematic to imply that Josie had been doing anything but helping the Chief Solicitor reach a deal. He¡¯d misjudged her badly and he was only now realizing it. Bernt still didn¡¯t understand how the Solicitors could justify the wild rumors that they were spreading about Jori, or how Josie could defend them. But at the same time, it was clear that Josie, at least, was trying to find a way to help. In fact, he suspected that she might have been planning her legal contingency for some time. Had she already been thinking about this moment when she¡¯d helped Jori negotiate for pay? And could it actually work? *** The tunnel down to the Undercity had been repaired so quickly that it almost seemed as though nothing had happened. The walls where the Duergar had broken in were smoother now than they¡¯d been before, and too clean, somehow. There was also more traffic, mostly human evacuees from the Lower District still making their way down to register for a place to stay. The lines in front of headquarters stretched halfway around the cavern, and Bernt didn¡¯t expect them to get any shorter in the foreseeable future. They blocked the street and Bernt was trying to find a spot to squeeze through when someone seized his shoulder. Bernt flinched and whirled, manaburn already pooling in his right hand. The man who¡¯d grabbed him stared with eyebrows raised, but he didn¡¯t look scared. He was short and thin, wearing an old and ragged robe that had been white at some point. ¡°Whoa there!¡± he said in a friendly tone. ¡°Just saw your uniform there, don¡¯t mind me. I was wondering if you could direct me to a young man named Torvald from your organization?¡± It took Bernt a second to compose himself, but he extinguished the fire and straightened. ¡°Sorry. Who are you? We don¡¯t give out information regarding our colleagues to the public.¡± "Oh, right!¡± he grinned easily. ¡°My name is Finian. I¡¯m an errant priest of Ruzinia and I¡¯ve been Sent.¡± He emphasized the last word in a way that suggested to Bernt he hadn¡¯t been sent by another priest, or his temple. This was not the sort of business he wanted to get in the way of. ¡°Right. Okay.¡± Bernt nodded. ¡°Come with me. We''ll go find him.¡± No matter who he was, Bernt couldn''t just let him run around the building unsupervised. Finding Torvald was easy ¨C the paladin had flatly refused to take a day off despite his concussion and Fiora wasn¡¯t in a position to turn down a willing hand. Still, she¡¯d put him on desk duty. As the son of the City Guard Commander, Torvald was both educated and familiar with city-level politics. That made him one of the few people in their organization qualified to properly sort and prioritize the mail and various work requests that continued to pour in ¨C war or no war. Torvald, unlike Bernt, immediately knew who the priest was when they entered Ed¡¯s office. He rose from the archmage¡¯s chair with a broad smile and held out his hand. ¡°You¡¯re here so soon ¨C I had no idea you¡¯d be so quick! A real Ruzinian priest! You¡¯re the first one I¡¯ve ever met.¡± ¡°I was in the area.¡± Finnian replied with a shrug. ¡°These things have a way of working out. It comes with the job.¡± ¡°Great!¡± Torvald said. ¡°Uh¡­ what happens now? I mean, the goddess told me to expect you, but what¡¯s next?¡± Finnian reached into his robes and drew out a small bottle. ¡°I anoint you as a paladin, and you go and follow your Calling. It¡¯s not complicated. Just kneel down.¡± Torvald knelt, looking up at the shorter man. ¡°Can I choose? A man I know was pulled into the hells by a demon. He can''t get out. Can we help him?¡± ¡°We go to those who are most desperate ¨C wherever the goddess leads.¡± Finian said, shrugging. ¡°Your friend¡¯s situation will not go unnoticed. She has many hands and She sees far. It is not for us to guide her.¡± Carefully, he tipped the bottle and poured a golden-colored oil on his head. Bernt nearly stopped him ¨C he was making a mess ¨C but stopped himself. You didn¡¯t interrupt holy rituals if you valued your life. Ruzinia wasn¡¯t known for being a vengeful goddess, but nobody in their right mind would prod at a deity to see what happened. When the bottle was empty, a soft golden light rose from Torvald. Bernt suddenly had trouble breathing, as if the air was too thick. ¡°Torvald, son of Righmond. You have brought hope to the hopeless in the name of the goddess. Will you go where She leads you and shelter those She holds in Her hand?¡± The priest said, his voice reverberating oddly, as if it were coming from the very stones all around. His voice wasn''t loud, but Bernt guessed that it carried far. ¡°I will.¡± Torvald said simply. And just like that, the light winked out and Bernt could breathe again. The paladin¡¯s head jerked up and he looked around, surprised. ¡°What? Did I say something wrong?¡± Finian tucked the bottle away and smiled. ¡°No, that¡¯s it. Ruzinia¡¯s not very wordy. Too much work to do. Congratulations, you¡¯re officially a Ruzinian pilgrim. Maybe we¡¯ll run into each other again sometime. Now, if you don¡¯t mind, I have another appointment a few days north of here.¡± With that, the priest turned to go. ¡°Wait!¡± Torvald called out. ¡°What do I do? There¡¯s no temple here, and Ruzinians don¡¯t join the military¡­¡± The priest didn¡¯t slow, he just called over his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. You¡¯ll know!¡± Torvald looked from the retreating priest to Bernt, who shrugged at him. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m pretty sure those evacuees out there are feeling pretty desperate to get their paperwork filed. Maybe you¡¯re right where you¡¯re supposed to be.¡± Leaving the paladin to it, he made his way back out of the building to help Nirlig combat the ever-growing lines of people looking to move into the Undercity. *** Bernt turned on his back to find a more comfortable position and drew his blanket around himself more tightly. He stared up toward the smooth ceiling of his home where a perpetual torch spell flickered in the air. It was nice having semi-permanent lighting like this, but he couldn¡¯t find it in himself to enjoy it. On the one hand, he felt relieved after the days¡¯ events. Worrying about Jori had felt like being swept down a river with no control over what was next. The meeting had been like finally finding solid footing. Jori had a way back, and so did Ed. This morning, he¡¯d been floundering, trying to find anything remotely resembling an opportunity to hang his hopes on. Now they had one, but it was sinking in that it might still be a long time before everything could go back to normal. Since finishing his education at the academy, Bernt had largely thought of himself as someone who did things alone. Someone who lived alone, often worked alone, studied alone and usually ate alone. But that hadn¡¯t been true. Jori had been with him for the majority of that time, even if she hadn¡¯t been quite sapient yet ¨C especially in the first year. Now he was alone, and he hated it. He couldn¡¯t sleep, for one. That was a problem, because he had another long day ahead of him tomorrow. He could just tell that something wasn¡¯t right. A fire should be burning in the stove, and Jori should be curled up against it. It wasn¡¯t supposed to be this godsdamned quiet. Flinging the blanket off, Bernt rose and crossed the room, loading scraps of wood into the stove. It was wasteful, but he didn¡¯t care. Not today. With a quick cantrip, he lit the fire and went back to bed. The fire crackled slightly, and the smell of wood smoke tickled his nostrils. It wasn¡¯t the same, but it was better. 2.48 History Repeats ¡°When Ed told me that the Underkeepers were going to become a guard organization, and that we were going to open applications to the general public, I told him he was out of his mind -- and he was!¡± Fiora looked around at the humans, dwarves, goblins and gnomes assembled in the center of the Undercity Market. Behind her stood what Bernt assumed was going to be some kind of monument ¨C currently covered in an enormous sheet of cloth. It hadn¡¯t been there last night. She offered them a wry smile. ¡°But Ed has always been the best kind of crazy. He didn¡¯t care that nobody had done this kind of thing before. He wanted change, so he made it happen. Or rather, he invited you to make it happen, and you showed up. Now, barely a month later, you stepped up to defend this city against invasion, and our new community in it. We were new and untested, but you trusted in yourselves and in us ¨C many of you proved it by moving your families down here. That trust was vindicated when the Duergar came for us in force and we stood in the way.¡± Fiora paused for a moment, lending gravity to her words. ¡°Many of us aren¡¯t here today to appreciate our hard-won victory, but their families are. Some won¡¯t be able to return to work, but their families will. We¡¯re here today to memorialize those who didn¡¯t make it¡­¡± As Fiora continued, Bernt noticed just how many people had turned out to watch. The Underkeepers were a relatively small organization, numbering barely over a hundred people when the Duergar attacked. Now, he estimated that they had maybe 70 left. Most of those were deaths, but a few had been maimed and would be forced into retirement. Bernt stood near the back of the Underkeepers, behind Nirlig and his father and a few gnomes, but the crowd was much larger than that. Beyond the cluster of grey-clad Underkeepers stood hundreds more people. Many of them were the families of the dead, but others were passersby and people who¡¯d come to shop at the market only to discover a ceremony in progress. Still others were evacuees from the surface. For many from the Crafters'' District, the reality that their homes had been completely destroyed was only now starting to sink in. Bernt expected that some had taken notice of the fact that their evacuation had been entirely managed by the Underkeepers, rather than the City Guard. As the crowd grew, Fiora¡¯s magically amplified voice grew in volume to match. Bernt hadn¡¯t expected her to be a gifted public speaker, but she was. She had little difficulty holding the crowd¡¯s attention, lauding the dedication of the Underkeepers to their community, and reaffirming the importance and the value of their work. When she thanked them for their service to the city of Halfbridge and drew down the cloth that obscured the monument, there were even a few gasps from the crowd. It was a black stone obelisk. The Underkeepers¡¯ symbol was carved at the top of each of the four faces and painted gold, a crescent over an arcane glyph with a line down the middle. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure exactly what the glyph meant, but the shape alone made it clear it was related to hydromancy. The two faces that Bernt could see from where he was standing were inscribed with dwarvish runes and the strange goblin script that Lin had been using respectively. He couldn¡¯t read dwarvish well, but he recognized enough characters to realize that he was looking at the names of the dead. He stared at the goblin script, trying to work out how many names there were ¨C he still didn¡¯t know exactly who was dead, and who he just hadn¡¯t seen since the battle. The text just looked like a continuous line with little branches coming off of it. As the crowd started to disperse, he leaned over to Nirlig. ¡°You know, I think it would have been better to carve it all in Beseri. This way, nobody¡¯s going to be able to read the goblin names, and most people won¡¯t be able to read the dwarvish or the gnomish ones either.¡± Nirlig smiled. ¡°No, it¡¯s good. I think they did it because of us, actually. I guess Fiora knows about our customs. Or maybe Kustov ¨C he probably made it.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Bernt asked, puzzled. ¡°We don¡¯t write down the names of the dead.¡± Morix explained, taking over from his son. ¡°Only their direct descendants are allowed to speak their names or tell of them to others.¡± ¡°Oh. Alright¡­ what does it say, then?¡± Bernt asked, taken aback a bit. Why wouldn¡¯t you be allowed to talk about the dead? Wouldn¡¯t that mean anyone who died without children would be forgotten inside a single generation? ¡°It¡¯s a poem about the battle ¨C a song.¡± Morix explained. ¡°Any goblin who comes here can get a first hand account right from the memorial, as long as they can read. We don¡¯t write down songs, normally, but I suppose Lin had to give Kustov something to appease him.¡± Bernt examined the script again, wondering exactly what it said. He started to ask, only to be cut off by the arrival of a large, unfamiliar goblin who pushed past him as she berated Morix. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°My poor nephew, just look at his hand! I told my sister that you were trouble! I told her! The poor boy! How is he ever going to meet a nice young woman like that? You¡¯ve always been reckless, Morix, but this is too much!¡± Bernt backed up, extricating himself. That would be Nirlig¡¯s infamous Aunt Striga, he guessed, and he did not want to answer questions about Jori right now. Besides, he needed to get to the surface. He still hadn¡¯t found the time to check in on Therion and the others and he wanted to make sure they were alright. *** ¡°Tell me about Nuros.¡± Iriala said in Duergar, walking in a slow circle around her prisoner. The abjurer she¡¯d captured was shackled to a stone ring inside a circle of wards. She¡¯d prepared her questions ahead of time, and brought one of her mages, a dwarf who claimed to understand the language well enough to help her if she didn¡¯t understand something. When you were questioning someone, preparation was critical. You needed to know what to ask and how to ask it, and you had to make sure you took your time about it. Ironically, rushing to get answers tended to result in stall tactics. It gave people the idea that they could ¡®win¡¯ by just holding out for a while. Not that she predicted it would be an issue with a Duergar. ¡°Our sources suggest he¡¯s not your prince, but rather the demon possessing him,¡± she went on. ¡°So I wonder. Why doesn¡¯t anyone speak the name of the warlock ¨C your prince? Was he hiding his identity? Why? We already know we¡¯re fighting the Duergar Empire. For the gods'' sake, you sent us an ambassador!¡± The dwarf stood impassively, watching her whenever she passed by in front of him. He didn¡¯t try to follow her with his gaze, and he didn¡¯t appear intimidated. Neither did he seem overly resistant. The Duergar mage just looked weary. Enki, her interpreter, grunted something impatient sounding at the prisoner, who sighed. After another lengthy pause, he finally responded. ¡°You do not fight the Empire.¡± he said slowly, staring at her as if trying to make sure she understood. ¡°The Empire is big¡­. we are a small¡­ the surface region¡­¡± he continued, but Iriala didn¡¯t understand the rest. Fortunately Enki noticed and helpfully translated. ¡°He¡¯s saying they¡¯re only a small part of the empire ¨C their ¡®king¡¯ is something more like a regional governor, by the sound of it. Their king sent them out to ''lay low'' the enemies of the Empire, or something like that. I''m guessing either he or Nuros just wanted to get to the surface for his own purposes.¡± ¡°To harvest souls. As we found out.¡± Iriala said darkly. She returned to her pacing, thinking out loud. ¡°Though I don''t think they really cared about us specifically. They were fighting the kobolds, first. We might just be a target of opportunity. Did they even know we were here?" Enki shrugged. "I doubt he''s going to give us an honest answer, but probably. We knew about them, after all, at least to a point." Iriala nodded. "To a point, yes. We knew the Duergar Empire was larger than Besermark, though he¡¯s certainly trying to make it sound much larger.¡± This might be a good thing. If the larger empire saw this entire war as a meaningless border skirmish, then Nuros¡¯ influence likely didn¡¯t extend beyond this single ¡®¡¯kingdom¡¯ within the Empire. It meant there might be political fault lines to exploit here. For that matter, was their central government even aware of the conflict? She would need to gather more information. Filing that away, she turned back to the enemy mage, repeating her question in Duergar. ¡°So, why do we still not know the name of the Duergar warlock behind all this?¡± ¡°Because you asked a summoner, I assume,¡± he said matter-of-factly. ¡°Summoners turn their eyes from every crack in the stone.¡± Iriala blinked and looked over to Enki, who explained. ¡°He means their warlocks prefer to ignore obvious problems. I¡¯m going to guess he doesn¡¯t think very much of them.¡± Iriala scoffed. ¡°Then why go to war for them? And what the hells does it mean?¡± Enki fired off her questions in Duergar. Iriala could mostly understand her, but it took too long to try to put the sentences together coherently on her own. She frowned. Who would have thought that she was ever going to need to have a serious conversation in Duergar? The dwarf answered easily this time, speaking faster and quite a bit longer. Enki grimaced in disgust after a few sentences. It was something about the king and some kind of conversation he had with Nuros. Did he mean the prince? As he talked, Enki¡¯s grimace melted into horrified fascination. When he finished, she spat on the ground as if trying to get a bad taste out of her mouth. ¡°What is it?¡± she asked. What could get that kind of reaction? ¡°Their king is called Grundrik. He¡¯s an ancient warlock of some kind, apparently. Unnaturally ancient. He initially pacted Nuros a few decades before this fellow here was born. Powerful demons like that don¡¯t grow on trees. You can¡¯t just give it a soul or two as payment. So the rumor is that he gave the demon his young son, instead. It¡¯s a rumor, because nobody can actually confirm that he had a son, just that the duergar Nuros was riding around bore a family resemblance to Grundrik. If the Solicitors said that the demons called him a duergar prince, though¡­ well, what reason would they have to lie? He''s been here that entire time, building influence in their kingdom.¡± Iriala scowled. What a disaster. It was the fall of the Madurian Empire all over again. 2.49 Manaburn Nuros cast himself along the ground at the feet of his master. His presence darkened the floor of most of the enormous audience chamber, though it didn¡¯t diminish the light that flooded in from the far end, where hellfire flickered from an enormous, misshapen maw. He had no idea what the devourer had looked like before its last metamorphosis, but he doubted it had been anything like this. Varamemnon¡¯s face was here, but the rest of his body ¨C a mass of tentacles and eyes, grew throughout his city. In many respects, Varamemnon was his city. ¡°Master.¡± Nuros said. ¡°I am returned.¡± The shade had grown more powerful since the last time he was here ¨C much more powerful. The darkness that made up his substance could now resist the light to a degree and he managed to extend himself ever so slightly up into three dimensions. He hated it here. The third hell was like any plane away from home ¨C oppressively bright. The fifth hell was blessedly dark, vast and empty, and it was one of the few places that a shade could take on its true shape. Nuros, though, wouldn¡¯t be constrained to such limits much longer. He was close. So close. ¡°Nuros.¡± A voice that sounded like the roar of a thousand furnaces spoke his name. ¡°My enemies nip at the heels of my vassals. K¡¯Thanizar sees your failure and whispers of weakness to my peers. Anukthun prepares his servants for war and even Illa¡¯ka sends her hags into my realm to poach my crop. Why do you return?¡± ¡°Great One.¡± Nuros said, trying to stay perfectly still despite the sudden urge to flee. ¡°An Outsider interfered, granting great power to one of their pawns who destroyed the vessel before its time. I seized most of what it had gathered, but it was insufficient for my ascension. Soon, though, I will prevail. There are other cities, and other armies stand ready for the harvest.¡± Varamemnon rumbled in thought. ¡°Why, then, do you return?¡± ¡°I seek your blessing, Great One. My host was destroyed by an imp named Dzhorianath ¨C it was cleverly done and the method used was¡­ not typical for one such as her. I wish to bind her to me. My servants tell me that it is bound by a human, a warlock named Bernt. Given the proper nourishment, she could become an asset.¡± ¡°An imp.¡± Varamemnon mused. ¡°Very unusual¡­ very well. Bind her in my name, but be wary. Fail me again in the sight of my enemies, and I may feed your power to her, instead.¡± Nuros groveled appropriately and backed out of the massive chamber. Then, he descended, ignoring the lesser supplicants cowering on the steps of the enormous ziggurat. The meeting had gone reasonably well, all things considered. Soon, he would ascend to become a true demon lord. In time, he would found his own city deep in the eternal dark of the fifth hell. A place where fear itself went to die, and he would have to bow to no one. But that was far off, yet. Soon, he would be summoned back to the material plane and resume his harvest of his little corner of the mortal world. Once that was done, he had a servant to poach. He needed to kill the foolish warlock who had sent the clever imp to break his host, both to break their pact and for his own personal satisfaction. *** The late afternoon sun was already casting long shadows when Bernt made his way into the Crafters¡¯ District out of the Undercity Gate, only to be met by the sight of hundreds of gray-skinned dwarves. He¡¯d already half-finished casting a fireball when he realized that the duergar in front of him weren¡¯t armed. In fact, they were half naked and hauling rubble with stone-faced determination under the watchful eye of the City Guard. He canceled the spell and walked forward, looking around at them suspiciously as he passed. By the looks of it, the City Guard was forcing the prisoners to rebuild what they had destroyed. That, in itself, wasn¡¯t that strange. What surprised Bernt more was how well the odd dwarves cooperated. Bernt wasn¡¯t really sure how these things normally worked, but it felt strange. How could these be the same people who had climbed over their own dead to try to kill them in the Undercity? As he passed, he couldn¡¯t help but look over his shoulders at them, expecting one to rush at him at any moment. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Nothing happened. Leaving the odd scene behind him, he hiked through the broken Crafters¡¯ District and the Temple District, making his way into the Upper District, where Therion lived. He hadn¡¯t heard from any of his adventurer friends since before the battle. The wealthy neighborhood felt like an entirely different world, even more so now. Everything was so clean, and there was no sign of the many people who had been displaced from the Lower District, many of whom were still camping in the streets. Bernt supposed that most of them would eventually make their way into the Undercity, but now that the danger had passed, they would have to fill out the proper forms before they could be assigned housing. It would take days, maybe weeks to process everyone. Here, children played out in the street and Bernt even saw someone fastidiously trimming an already well-groomed hedge with scissors. He knew the incongruous sight would have outraged him just a month or two ago, but he found he couldn¡¯t muster any real ill will for them. At least someone had managed to get out of this mess without grief. When he knocked on Therion¡¯s door, a young girl that couldn¡¯t have been more than ten years old opened it. Her eyes were red ¨C she¡¯d been crying recently. Did Therion have a younger sister? ¡°Can I help you?¡± she said in a tone that suggested that she did not, in fact, want to help him. ¡°Hi,¡± Bernt said, an ominous feeling stirring in his guts. ¡±Is Therion around? I just wanted to drop by to check in on him after the battle.¡± Wordlessly, the girl turned and disappeared into the house. Bernt stood there awkwardly for a minute, not sure what to do next. Finally, though, Therion shuffled up to the door and offered him a tired but genuine smile. ¡°Hey. I heard you guys took a beating down in the Undercity. Glad to see you¡¯re still with us.¡± He turned, waving for him to follow over his shoulder. ¡°Come on in.¡± Bernt followed him inside, through a foyer into a large living room. It was larger than his entire home in the Undercity, and Bernt idly wondered what someone could possibly want such a large room in a private residence for when he noticed the man lying on the massive couch filled one corner of the room on his left, next to an enormous fireplace. It was Garius. His eyes were open, but he wasn¡¯t looking at anything. The girl was sitting next to the man, trying to feed him from a bowl of what looked like porridge and whispering to him. ¡°He was in charge of the rangers during the attack.¡± Therion explained with a dead voice. ¡°Ambrose ordered them in toward the Undercity Gate to cover him and help him kill a bunch of warlocks. He wanted to break some kind of artifact they were using over there. The others said that my dad got hit by one of those shadow bolts when he tried to kill their leader. They got most of them before they retreated. But¡­ he¡¯s catatonic.¡± ¡°Oh man.¡± Bernt tried to find the right words to say. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, but no one had said the right things to him then, either. It was supposed to hurt. He swallowed. ¡°Can the temples do anything?¡± ¡°Syrah was here. She said the gods won¡¯t touch the minds of mortals, not even to heal them.¡± Therion swallowed thickly, but then composed himself again. ¡°She said he might get better on his own in time, though. The spell most likely caused some kind of mental trauma. We just need to take care of him. Talking to him is supposed to help.¡± Waving for him to follow, Therion took him out the other side of the room, into the garden. He walked quickly, obviously trying to clear his mind. ¡°What happened down below, exactly? I heard a few rumors, but it sounds¡­ well, nothing that seems very reliable.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard some of those, too.¡± Bernt said. ¡°The truth is crazy enough to fit right in with the rumors, though.¡± He filled Therion in on what had happened, backing up a bit to explain his new sorcerous investiture before describing the battle and his role in it. Too much had happened in such a short time. When he was done, he followed up with a question of his own. ¡°So, Syrah was here ¨C I guess she¡¯s fine. What about the others?¡± Therion shrugged, settling down on a rock near the edge of the property. They¡¯d rounded the house and were standing near the street under an old oak tree. ¡°We fought together, covering the flanks of the more powerful adventurers and making sure the Duergar couldn¡¯t come around and cut off their retreat. Our area was relatively safe ¨C nothing we couldn¡¯t handle. Furin took a spear in the leg, but it wasn¡¯t serious. Syrah fixed him right there.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Bernt felt some of the tension release in his chest. ¡°I¡¯m glad it didn¡¯t turn out worse.¡± ¡°Yeah. Considering everything I¡¯ve heard, we got lucky.¡± Therion said. He gestured back toward the house. ¡°I knew something like this might happen one day. Adventuring is a dangerous job. I just hoped¡­ well, that it wouldn¡¯t.¡± Bernt nodded, but he didn¡¯t reply. Sometimes, there just wasn¡¯t anything to say. ¡°So, liquid perpetual flame, conjured instantly.¡± Therion said after a minute, trying to change the subject. ¡°Do you have any idea how dangerous that makes you against other spellcasters? You can break through wards, enchantments and protective spells at will with this. Oren is going to be furious when he hears about it. You have no idea how much trouble he has to go through to get past an enchanted lock.¡± Bernt grinned. ¡°Works great for clearing slimes, too.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Therion laughed, and it sounded only a little forced. ¡°What are you going to call it?¡± ¡°Manaburn.¡± Bernt replied. ¡°What else?¡± Arc 2 Epilogue Ed dug around in his belt pouch, digging out his mess kit along with his remaining supplies. He found some dried apricots that felt more like stones than food, a pack of tobacco and a small package of dusty-smelling crackers from the-gods-knew-when. They were nearly a decade old, preserved in the sterile holding space since the day he and his two best officers had been ¡°retired¡± out of the army thanks to Righmond¡¯s smarmy relatives. He¡¯d never bothered to clear his things out of the bag ¨C it had plenty of space, and you never knew when that sort of thing would come in handy. Except now he did know. He was stuck and starving in a literal hell, and the water here tasted like a demon¡¯s ass. There was no telling how long he¡¯d been here ¨C the hells apparently didn¡¯t enjoy a day and night cycle like any self-respecting plane of existence should. After hunting down that godsdamned imp, he¡¯d spent what felt like at least a day looking around the general area. There was some kind of city in the distance, but the gigantic tentacles waving out from behind the walls were enough to convince him that a visit there was going to be a last resort. Eventually, he had been forced to accept that there wasn¡¯t anything like a convenient gate home nearby. So, he had carved himself a shelter into the cliff face overlooking the hellfire river below. This was going to be his worst billet ever, by far. Concentrating, he pulled out his battered tin cup and conjured water into it. Casting the simple spell was a laborious process for him, taking damned near five seconds, but he had plenty of practice. As an archmage, he was highly specialized, so casting a simple cantrip like this was more about cutting the spellform down to size than shaping it in the first place. Otherwise it would probably just cause a wet explosion, or something. He¡¯d never tried it. He dunked a fossilized cracker in the water and let it soak for a moment so he wouldn¡¯t break his teeth on it. He¡¯d run into demons a couple of times already, though they were all weak little critters. That imp was the only thing that could cast anything resembling a spell so far, so he wasn¡¯t overly concerned for his safety in that regard. At least, not more than he would be back home. No, the hunger would get him first. There was no way he could eat anything from here. There weren¡¯t any plants, for one ¨C just demons, rocks, and the ghosts. They were souls, Ed assumed, but they were damned creepy. They still looked sort of like people ¨C humanoid shapes. But they didn¡¯t behave right. They didn¡¯t talk or try to communicate with each other, but there was still something there. They flinched away when they saw him, and when he saw a demon take one, the nearby ones had fled as if terrified. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. He¡¯d killed the demon, of course, and a few minutes later, the ghosts just drifted back together, like sheep waiting to be culled. Ed shuddered at the memory. It wasn¡¯t right. He needed to decide what to do. His food was going to run out within a day. As far as he knew, people didn¡¯t just cheerfully travel back and forth from the hells. It was supposed to be a one-way trip. On the other hand, it wasn¡¯t the sort of thing you were supposed to do when you were still alive, either. Radast, he was sure, would know how to get out of this place. Would they send somebody for him? Only if they won the battle. Ed scowled. He didn¡¯t like their odds. The city would make it, he was sure, but his people? Iriala would have seen what was happening and sent the guilds to push the Duergar back down the tunnel. Considering that they¡¯d pushed into the Undercity instead of retreating back to where they¡¯d come from, the guilds would have had to drive clear through the enemy army to reach the Underkeepers. No, he had to assume that they¡¯d lost ¨C and that meant nobody living would know he was here. Maybe if Iriala saw, assuming that she was scrying him at the time. But she¡¯d had her own battle to deal with. No, that wasn¡¯t a safe assumption. He pulled the soggy cracker from the water and put it in his mouth mechanically. It tasted like dirt. Swallowing it down, he began soaking another one. If he was stuck here with limited supplies and no way out, then he needed to consider how best to use the time he had. These Duergar assholes had decided that Halfbridge was a nice, soft target to squeeze for all the godsforsaken souls they could feed to their demonic overlord. Or maybe the demon was calling the shots all along. It didn¡¯t matter. Considering what had dragged him here, he was willing to bet that that disgusting, writhing city he¡¯d seen had something to do with Nuros, or more likely his boss, king¡­ whatever they had. It was there, and he was here, too. And his clock was ticking, no matter what he did. Well, that didn¡¯t sound like such a hard decision after all. Conjuring another cup of water, Ed downed it and tucked a dried apricot into his cheek as he rose. He dusted off his robes and started walking, packing his pipe on the way. Who knew? Maybe he could tear this Varamemnon character a new asshole before it ate him. Underkeeper Geography Dump Besermark : Besermark is what used to be the Easternmost reaches of the Madurian Empire. Its economic power is built around its control of three rivers, two of which empty out into the Illurian Sea, and one which grants them access to the northern ocean. It is protected by mountains on its western flank, the burning Phoenix Reaches to the south, and the untamed Eastern Reaches to the East. Beseri kings have always entertained notions of eastward expansion, but so far they haven''t even managed to fully tame Beseri territory. Wars, border incursions, internal tensions, native monsters and a successive series of other economic and political factors keep Besermark limping along rather than expanding its influence into unclaimed lands. Beseri Regional Map: To the northwest, Besermark is flanked by the Tib''Nar highlands, which is home to primarily orcs, centaurs, trolls and goblins. Many of the nomadic tribal groups that live there were originally driven out of northern Besermark during the Madurian settlement period and still hold a grudge. Due west we have a collection of Dwarven City States, including Silvercrag Hall, where Kustov is from. They maintain a neutral relationship with anyone who isn''t actively hostile toward them and trade with all their neighbors, even the xenophobic lizardmen of Sehesh. To the southwest, we have Madzhur and Kallrix, both of which are cosmopolitan post-Madurian states, Madzhur is the rump state that remained after the collapse of the empire. Its people are fiercely proud and cling to their cultural heritage (minus the last few imperial decades *cough*). Kallrix is a relatively small coastal republic and the only subjugated pre-Madurian state to reform after the country''s collapse. It''s also the only country that incorporated goblins as citizens at the time of their founding, owing to their unique history and culture. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Miria, across the sea, is a coastal collection of free cities and small independent fiefdoms that used to be Madurian colonies. They''re extremely heterogenous and fiercely independent, fighting amongst themselves so much that they still haven''t managed to expand into the continent''s interior. Lastly, we have Illuria, a maritime power and on-again off-again strategic rival of Besermark. Founded by refugees from the pre-Madurian Kallrixian state before their own subjugation, they see pretty much everyone except their coastal cousins as strategic enemies complicit in their historical oppression. Local Maps: Halfbridge maps of the Surface and the Undercity. These are pretty self-explanatory. The Undercity map doesn''t include the new refugee quarter, because I haven''t managed to summon the willpower to draw out another floor plan with hundreds of tiny houses for it. Book 3 Prologue ¡°You know, all I ever really wanted to do was water fields,¡± Uriah told the weird, goat-faced demon tiredly as it fruitlessly scrabbled for purchase in the bubble of water that kept it suspended in front of him. He felt empty inside, hollowed out. He knew he should be feeling something, but it was all too much. It wasn¡¯t supposed to be like this. The water boiled as the thing tried to conjure fire in its fist and sulfurous steam gurgled up, adding to the stench that hung thickly in the sewer tunnel. Uriah wasn¡¯t sure if demons actually needed to breathe in order to survive, and he didn¡¯t care. It was neutralized, and it was going to listen to what he had to say. ¡°It would have been a good job¡ªhonest work,¡± he went on. ¡°People need hydromancers out in the country. There¡¯s never enough help up north when there¡¯s a dry summer. And they can¡¯t pay well, see? You have to work hard. But it¡¯s rewarding. It¡¯s not about the money.¡± The demon opened its mouth to scream, and Uriah casually directed the water to force itself down into its lungs. It spasmed and its weird eyes rolled madly, but it kept trying to conjure hellfire, sending gouts of steam bubbling up out of the surface. ¡°When the third investiture didn¡¯t take right, I swallowed my pride and I went to the Underkeepers. See, you have to move a lot of water for irrigation. Can¡¯t work fast enough to make a living without the right augmentation. I made my peace. It wasn¡¯t a bad job either. Decent pay, good public service.¡± Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Uriah¡¯s jaw clenched in a sudden and barely controlled flash of rage so intense that his voice trembled with it. ¡°But then you showed up. You hellspawn and your filthy godsforsaken gray dwarves. And old Ed wanted us to fight you, but I¡­ I didn¡¯t want to get involved. No. I transferred here, to get away.¡± Uriah was crying now, breathing hard and voice wracked with heavy sobs. He knew that something inside him had broken. But it didn¡¯t matter. What could possibly still matter now? ¡°Honest work!¡± He bellowed at the now terrified creature. ¡°NO FIGHTING!¡± It came out as a deranged scream, and he punctuated his words by forcing the water down into the demon through its mouth and its weird, square-pupiled eyes, pushing and pushing until it burst like an overfilled sack. The bubble of water boiled furiously for a moment, but then it grew calm, except for the corpse that still spun lazily inside. Uriah knew dimly that he¡¯d lost it. But he didn¡¯t care anymore. No. It was all too much. Releasing the control cantrip numbly, he let the water and the corpse splash down and turned away. Still hyperventilating, he waded through the knee-high slurry of water, shit and blood that flowed through the sewers under the burning ruins of Loamfurth. He needed to get out. Out of these sewers and the city. He would make it across the river, and he would head east. East, toward Halfbridge. Ed had wanted to kill them. Uriah wanted to help. 3.1 Departure Bernt carefully visualized the spellform for banefire in his mind¡¯s eye. It was a lot more difficult than tracing the spell out in the air in front of him, but he¡¯d been practicing. Still, it took more than ten seconds to be sure he wasn¡¯t leaving anything out of the intricate pattern. The spell was modeled after a simple fireball¡ªmost of it was just a fireball¡ªexcept that the portion of the spell that defined exactly what was to be burned was heinously complex. Behind him, porters sweated despite the chill air as they hauled goods out along the pier toward the riverboat that lay docked at the end. It was distracting, but there was no point in practicing combat magic in a quiet environment. The spell was still too slow to cast like this, but he would improve. Unlike a fireball, banefire burned on the essence of demons. Considering what he¡¯d been up against in the last few months, this was the spell he needed to master above all others. With an effort of will, Bernt channeled mana through his right hand, aiming down and flexing the branching pathways of the investiture that ran through the limb as he did to guide its flow. A missile of boiling gray flame shot out of his hand and splattered out onto the water in front of him, sending curls of steam up to join the low fog hanging over the river. The slow-moving current began to carry it away, and Bernt watched it intently. Five seconds. Ten. Still, the fire didn¡¯t go out. Finally. With an effort of will, Bernt dispersed the mana that made up the spell, extinguishing it. It worked! The banefire was sustaining itself with ambient mana. From now on, given time, he could turn an entire battlefield into a deathtrap for demons¡ªone that wouldn¡¯t burn his allies. At least until Jori got back. They would need to work out some kind of protection for her. Would regular clothes work? Banefire didn¡¯t scorch mundane materials, so maybe it was that simple¡­ Concentrating, Bernt produced manaburn with his right hand and simultaneously cast a control cantrip with his left. He seized control of the white plasma as it manifested and drew it up into the air in front of him. Then he practiced reshaping it into a tiny wall, a thin line and a ball. The exercise was easy, but it might still help him develop his control a little. It was nothing like trying to manipulate a giant wall of flames had been. But still, every little bit helped. Bernt had learned first-hand what this simple cantrip could do in the right circumstances¡ªand with his perpetual flame investiture, he was in a better position to create those circumstances than most pyromancers ever would be. More importantly, he¡¯d seen what could happen if his control slipped, even for a moment. But this wasn¡¯t the place to test himself. He¡¯d need to find time to go outside the walls and do it at scale. Jori had been gone for over a week, but Bernt still felt lost. He wanted to act¡ªto get her back, or to help her do whatever she was doing over there, it didn¡¯t really matter. Just something. But there was nothing he could do that would make a difference. It was infuriating, but he¡¯d found it to be a powerful motivator as well. At the end of the day, Radast had pushed him around and banished Jori as he had because he could. Worse than that, it was probably the easiest choice available for him. Bernt wasn¡¯t a threat to him, either directly or politically, so he hadn¡¯t tried to find a way to make it work. Bernt couldn¡¯t change that now, but as long as he didn¡¯t have a better solution, he was going to make sure that the next time someone came for him or one of his friends, pushing him around wouldn¡¯t be the easy way out. He couldn¡¯t very well start setting Beseri citizens on fire, but growing more powerful with magic was the first step to building every kind of influence as a mage¡ªor a wizard. And right now, that meant practicing his spells and working out a way to finish his first augmentation. The thought sent a spike of worry worming its way through his belly. Would it even work, with his strange second investiture? Someone plopped down beside him, letting his legs dangle off the side of the pier. ¡°Morning,¡± Torvald said cheerfully. ¡°Coming to see Josie off, too?¡± Bernt grunted in the affirmative. He cast another banefire spell from his right hand, letting it splash onto the surface of the waters. ¡°She¡¯s going down to try to get Jori clearance to come back without a pact,¡± he explained. ¡°I can¡¯t come with her, but it seems ungrateful to not at least see her off.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Torvald said. ¡°I wish I could go see it. A few of my relatives in Teres invited me, actually, when they heard about the battle. They suggested I could meet the king, even. My parents want me to do it, but my resignation doesn¡¯t go into force for another two weeks, and I can¡¯t just go visiting family regardless. When I¡¯m free of my obligations here, I¡¯m going where the goddess leads.¡± Bernt stared. ¡°You don¡¯t know where, at all? And you already quit your job?¡± The paladin nodded. ¡°Comes with the territory¡ªit¡¯s about faith. Ruzinian pilgrims show up where they¡¯re needed. People don¡¯t have to come to us.¡± ¡°You know, I overheard your dad talking to Ed the day you signed up for the Underkeepers. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to take this very well. If I had to guess, I¡¯d say he was hoping to set you up with a nice, comfortable gig as his successor. You¡¯d probably do a better job, if you don¡¯t mind me saying.¡± Torvald¡¯s expression grew complicated. ¡°He didn¡¯t pick the job, you know. Wasn¡¯t trained for it, either. My grandfather on my mother¡¯s side put him here so he wouldn¡¯t embarrass him. He wanted to make sure that didn¡¯t happen to me.¡± He scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly. ¡°Anyway, he and I already had that talk when I joined the Temples to become an acolyte. He was probably hoping I¡¯d become a paladin to Noruk. There are lots of those in the military and Teres¡¯ crown guard commander is one as well. They¡¯re well-suited to it because¡ªyou know, war god.¡± ¡°And instead you¡¯re joining the legendary order of heroes. You know why they call them heroes, right?¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Because they tend to die,¡± Torvald said simply. ¡°I know. I still like them. It makes sense to me. It¡¯s what being a paladin is all about. As long as I align myself with Her will perfectly, I¡¯ll be unstoppable. The other side of that blessing is that I have to remain true to Her purpose, or I¡¯ll fail. I felt it, in the battle. We all make mistakes, but Ruzinian paladins tend to get into more difficult situations than most. We have a lot less room for error.¡± ¡°Just as long as you know what you¡¯re signing up for,¡± Bernt said a little doubtfully. He liked Torvald and he was going to be sad to see him go. Wanting to change the subject, Bernt looked up and around. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t she be here by now? The boat looks loaded up.¡± The porters had stopped hauling goods down the pier and most of the crates that had been piling up on the deck were gone¡ªstowed down below. Sure enough, when he looked back the other way, he spotted the warlock walking out toward them. She was alone. Bernt knew she had family in the city, but the one time Torvald had asked her about them when they were all working together she¡¯d been very cagey. He guessed they didn¡¯t approve of her choice of profession, or maybe she just wanted to protect them. After a moment she caught sight of them and waved. Torvald returned the gesture with a grin and Bernt nodded to her in greeting. ¡°Hey guys. What¡¯s up, are you planning to come and help me plead my case?¡± Bernt snorted. ¡°I doubt I¡¯d improve your chances. Torvald¡¯s word might carry some weight now, though. They¡¯re really going to send you down to try to handle the case on your own?¡± The Solicitor raised an eyebrow to him in challenge. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, think I can¡¯t handle it?¡± Then she shrugged in resignation. ¡°No, it¡¯s because Radast doesn¡¯t care if we win this one. It¡¯s generally in our interests to improve the legal position for demons in Besermark, but having Jori back here might not be. The deal we made with Jori is that I go and present her case, so that¡¯s what I¡¯m doing. Besides, I¡¯m representing the Underkeepers with this and suing the Solicitors Organization for interfering with a government employee in pursuit of her duties. I¡¯ve got a statement and an official complaint from Fiora to kick it off.¡± ¡°You got Fiora to help?¡± Bernt asked in surprise. Jori had developed a cordial relationship with many of the Underkeepers, but wouldn¡¯t have expected Fiora to go so far as to start a legal battle over Jori¡¯s rights. ¡°Sure I did,¡± Josie said. ¡°I want to win! Besides, Fiora was happy to help¡ªshe said that the Underkeepers didn¡¯t leave people behind. It¡¯s one of Ed¡¯s rules, or something. She was under his command in the army. Did you know that?.¡± Bernt nodded. ¡°Yeah, though I¡¯m kind of surprised. Ed always made it sound like he¡¯d kill Jori himself if she made a wrong move.¡± ¡°Maybe, but she didn¡¯t, did she?¡± Josie replied with a shrug. ¡°She practically saved the city. The rumors that the Solicitors are spreading are exaggerated, but they¡¯re not really wrong.¡± Bernt grimaced at the reference to the heavily embellished rumors that the Solicitors had started spreading about Jori the day after the battle. He still didn¡¯t like it. ¡°They¡¯re wildly inaccurate,¡± he scoffed. ¡°Not to mention they take credit for Torvald¡¯s role in it.¡± Torvald shrugged magnanimously. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Everybody in the Temple District knows better, and the public rarely gets the facts, anyway. It wouldn¡¯t have worked out without Jori regardless.¡± Just then, a large, weathered-looking man stepped up to them and cleared his throat awkwardly. ¡°Miss Solicitor, Ma¡¯am? We¡¯re going to be casting off soon. Are you ready to board?¡± ¡°Yes, of course. Sorry,¡± Josie said, flushing. ¡°Hold on!¡± Torvald interjected, fumbling at his pocket and producing a stick of incense. He held it out to Josie. ¡°Here, I wanted to give you this. You should light it at the shrine to Ruzinia in Teres. I prayed over it, and I think you¡¯re aligned well enough with her purpose that you might get her blessing. You took the case to help Ed, and he might be in the most hopeless situation I¡¯ve ever heard of. Jori¡¯s odds aren¡¯t really that great either, but I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯ll help.¡± Josie raised a very skeptical eyebrow, and for a moment Bernt thought she was going to argue with him again, but then she simply accepted the gift and stowed it in her robes. ¡°Thanks, Torvald.¡± Checking over her shoulder, Josie leaned toward Bernt and said, in a low voice. ¡°Keep in mind that Radast is going to be watching you, Bernt. He doesn¡¯t like you very much. Don¡¯t do anything stupid. Those rumors going around aren¡¯t going to hurt Jori. If the law fails, sometimes popularity is all you have left to lean on.¡± Without waiting for a response, she turned and hurried down toward the boat, leaving Bernt to consider what she¡¯d said in bewilderment. As she boarded, Torvald put a hand on Bernt¡¯s shoulder. ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± he said seriously, much to Bernt¡¯s surprise. ¡°You need to be careful. The Underkeepers are popular right now, but people like to turn on their heroes.¡± Bernt squinted at Torvald. ¡°Why would they do that? We saved the city. Twice now, actually. At this point, we deserve some respect for that, don¡¯t we?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± the paladin agreed. ¡°But, you should hear the whispers that are going around in the Temple District. There¡¯s a new power in town¡ªan organization of misfit mages that hired a bunch of heathens¡ªgoblins, a demon and at least one warlock to become a significant armed force inside the city. Within a couple of months, enemies invade the city and kill a bunch of people. Twice. And they came in right through the Underkeepers both times. Suspicious, right? If they weren¡¯t complicit, then surely they¡¯re dangerously incompetent.¡± ¡°But that¡¯s ridiculous!¡± Bernt spluttered. ¡°We fought the kobolds and the Duergar. People died! And the Duergar are threatening multiple cities, they didn¡¯t just attack us here.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t stop the street preachers from saying it. The Underkeepers are a challenge to the Temple District¡¯s influence in Halfbridge.¡± Torvald shook his head and frustration crept into his voice as he spoke. ¡°The temples were mostly too absorbed in their stupid political infighting before the battle, that¡¯s one of the reasons I went to join up in the first place. But that¡¯s over now¡ªthey ended up playing a supporting role in a fight against a demon lord! The Solicitors, the Underkeepers, you and Jori humiliated them by facing the demons head-on like that while they were playing back-up for the adventurers, the mages and the berserkers. Even the rangers arguably did more for the battle than the paladins. They didn¡¯t work together.¡± Bernt shook his head in disbelief. ¡°That¡¯s insane. They¡¯re jealous because they weren¡¯t the ones to defeat Nuros?¡± ¡°They¡¯re still just people,¡± Torvald said. ¡±Now that it¡¯s over, some of the temples are trying to save face by giving me all the credit. It¡¯s not that different from what the Solicitors are doing with Jori, to be honest. Honestly, I¡¯ll be glad when Ruzinia calls me to go and leave all this behind me. But you should be careful. Take popular support where you can get it. If you contradict the stories about Jori too much, they¡¯ll use it against you and the Underkeepers as a whole.¡± 3.2 New Normal Jori dove off of the outcropping over the steep river valley, letting the searing updraft carry her up high over the burning river. Flying was great! She¡¯d always hated scampering over the sharp rocks that covered the landscape here as a spawnling. It was slow, uncomfortable and dangerous. Ambush predators like fiends liked to hide in cracks to snatch young imps as they passed. By contrast, watching the gray and black landscape pass by underneath her felt indescribably liberating. Too bad she couldn¡¯t really enjoy it. She was in a race against time. It was hard to tell time precisely, here in the hells, but she thought it must have been at least a week since she¡¯d set out to find Ed. The pouch was small enough to strap to her back without interfering with her wings, but she knew it was much bigger on the inside. It was like Bernt¡¯s bag, except this one was full of tasty food for the Great Mage. That, and some spicy jerky and wraps for her. The jerky wasn¡¯t really the right kind, but they¡¯d tried. It was good enough. She banked right to follow the course of the river and found a vast plain stretching out in front of her. In the distance, high walls rose from the black, stony ground¡ªVaradon. The hellfire river terminated there, flowing into the enormous structure and disappearing. The entire city¡­ wriggled. Jori shuddered in disgust. That was just wrong. This was supposed to be where Varamemnon lived. She guessed that those were his limbs. His servants would be in the city, or somewhere nearby. This was where things would become more dangerous. She would need to find out where exactly Ed was, and that meant asking questions. Jori had never tried to infiltrate a demon city before. She was very sneaky compared to mortals, sure, but would that work here? She had her doubts. Fortunately, Ed was not a sneaky person. A piece of the wall, just left of her approach, was missing. A massive web of cracks radiated out from the damaged section and the entire area was covered in rubble. The stub of a gigantic tentacle waved back and forth crazily nearby, healed, but obviously no longer whole. Behind the hole lay a path of destruction, cut indiscriminately through a combination of stone and oddly organic structures¡ªlikely grown from the alien flesh of Varamemnon himself, if Jori didn¡¯t miss her guess. The imp knew intellectually that this, the third hell, was her home, in a sense. She came from a place like this, and this enormous monster was the sort of thing she herself could transform into one day ¨C assuming that she somehow lost her mind and all sense of good taste along the way, anyway. She would never understand why someone would root themselves into the ground like this. And why all the tentacles? Ick! Well. At least she knew where to start looking. Now she just had to hope they hadn¡¯t killed him already. *** ¡°I can¡¯t figure out what this means for my architecture.¡± Bernt said, rubbing at his face in frustration. ¡°If I just go ahead with the next investiture as normal, it might not fuse into an augmentation. On the other hand, maybe it will, and my entire mana network will fuse into my body like the perpetual flame did. Or maybe it¡¯ll work perfectly and I¡¯m just overreacting. What am I supposed to do?¡± Pollock leaned back in his chair and scratched at his beard, mulling it over. Bernt had decided to work on his development and growing reputation as a wizard. After all, he¡¯d come up with a way to fix spiritual damage¡ªeven if no one was using it. That, and he¡¯d developed banefire. Unlike his other contribution, the Duergar invasion had made his banefire spell very relevant to the defense of the realm. Mages all over the country were learning it, and if he¡¯d understood Iriala right, there was a bureaucratic process underway now to add it to the standard repertoire of military pyromancers. That meant that quite a few mages might recognize his name now, but it wouldn¡¯t translate to anything like influence or power unless he could build on that notoriety. Lots of wizards invented useful spells. Unfortunately, though, most didn¡¯t grow into influential or powerful figures. For Bernt, power had always been part of the goal¡ªa great adventurer had to be powerful. But, it had felt a lot more abstract until now. Now, he needed it, and not just the direct, flaming kind of power. Unfortunately, when he¡¯d tried to work out his next steps, he¡¯d run into a wall almost immediately. How could he plan for his next investiture if he had no way to predict what would happen? He had an architecture to work from, but no guarantee that it would work. The last material ¨C a magical tar produced by firing and distilling Illurian salt-water cedar ¨C didn¡¯t feel right anymore. He didn¡¯t need his flames to be more waterproof or to burn hotter. If anything, he should be looking for something more compatible ¨C but what was compatible with a sorcerous investiture? It was intensely frustrating. In the past, he might have spent weeks or months speculating and trying to work out ways to test his mana network to find an answer. Of course, he might still have to do that, but he¡¯d learned that sometimes, it was better to ask someone with more experience first. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to accidentally fuse the rest of your mana network.¡± Pollock finally said, shaking his head. ¡°That was a result of treating your channels with your hellfire derivative, no other part of your mana network was affected, and it¡¯s not as though they¡¯re disconnected from each other. If it were going to spread to your other channels, it would have done so immediately.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Bernt nodded slowly. ¡°That makes sense. But what if I can¡¯t get the three investitures to fuse?¡± This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Pollock shrugged lightly and smiled, a glint in his eye. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t work, you can just get another normal investiture to make three that can fuse into an augmentation! From there, I suppose you would need to try to expand your sorcerous investiture if you want to become an archwizard.¡± Bernt frowned skeptically. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that make all my non-fire spells weaker, though? Relatively speaking, I mean. I worked out how to cast a few normal cantrips with my right hand a few days ago, but it¡¯s extremely slow, and I have to close off practically all of that part of my mana network to do it. It reduces the amount of mana I can channel.¡± ¡°Well, yes, relatively speaking, I suppose.¡± Pollock conceded. ¡°But think about it! Sorcerers are supposed to grow their mana networks to form new abilities. You wouldn¡¯t need to find materials to infuse into your soul. That might deprive you of the reinforcing effect of a traditional investiture, but you also wouldn¡¯t need to worry about compatibility! Your spirit is naturally going to be compatible with itself. Just consider what that means!¡± That¡­ had not occurred to Bernt. He cocked his head to the side. ¡°Wait. You¡¯re saying that I wouldn''t get stuck? If I don¡¯t have compatibility issues, then I won¡¯t have to stop growing.¡± ¡°Yes! That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying." Pollock gave him a pained smile. ¡°Most of us stall like that." He pointed to his sleeve, which was circled by the braided pattern that marked him as a magister and two simple stripes behind it. "I had to stop at five. Reaching magister as a wizard is an achievement¡ªit¡¯s why we actually use the title. Archwizards are very rare. You might be weaker than a normal archmage or archwizard, and probably a little less flexible. But you¡¯d be completely unique.¡± ¡°And it would validate my hellfire derivative as a viable treatment for mana network damage.¡± Bernt added thoughtfully. ¡°But the best case would still be if I can get the augmentation to form normally, with the sorcerous investiture. It should make it much easier to use, since it would consider the other investitures a part of itself. The spellforms would almost certainly come out a lot cleaner, even if I still have to manipulate the investiture manually like I¡¯m doing now.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Pollock allowed. ¡°But I doubt it will work.¡± He rubbed at his face. ¡°I suppose you could improve your chances a bit, maybe. If you can find some kind of bridge-material... something that is inherently related to sorcery somehow. A phoenix feather, or something else that¡¯s very spiritually stable and highly compatible with fire.¡± Phoenix feathers were not the sort of thing a no-account Underkeeper¡ªor even your average archmage¡ªcould get their hands on. But it was a lot more information than he¡¯d had when he came in. Bernt rose and thanked the wizard for his help. He¡¯d need to visit Hallan at the library soon. Maybe his old classmate would have more resources about different pyromancer materials. He wished he could go right now, but he needed to get to work. His shift was starting in a half-hour. *** ¡°Hey! There¡¯s not enough food down here! You can¡¯t expect people to behave with no work and on an empty stomach. The count needs to send supplies down or find work to get them out of here and earning some money.¡± The middle aged woman had come out of one of the rough, unfinished units in the new ¡°Refugee Quarter¡±¡ªthe massive new neighborhood built by Kustov and Janus in the days before the battle. She was looking at him expectantly, as if she held him personally responsible for the situation here, and expected him to solve it immediately. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am, we¡¯re aware of the problem,¡± Bernt replied as patiently as he could manage. ¡°Our priority is still just keeping everybody out of the cold.¡± ¡°Well, tell the count that people down here are hungry! They¡¯re starting to get into fights and stealing from the rich folks on the plaza.¡± Bernt swallowed down his irritation. He was supposed to be on his way right now to ¡°look into¡± exactly such an incident at an address on the "plaza", as they called the large square cavern at the center of the new neighborhood. The homes set into the walls of the space were ideal for use as shops and crafting spaces. Many of the city¡¯s crafters¡ªmostly the non-dwarves who didn¡¯t settle in the Crafters¡¯ Quarter¡ªhad moved in here. Not that he was going to actually do anything. They didn¡¯t have the time or the manpower to worry about petty theft. He was just here to offer people a sense of order. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am, I¡¯ll put it in my report. I¡¯m sure the count will take care of it as soon as he can.¡± Bernt hated doing patrols here. The inhabitants were an odd mix of refugees from the Lower District and the Crafters¡¯ District. Rather, they went to great pains not to mix. While they¡¯d all lost their homes, their circumstances were very different overall. Crafters usually had savings at the bank¡ªmoney to buy food, to fix up their new quarters and to buy the tools and supplies they needed to get back to work and move on with their lives. The section of the Lower District that had burned down¡ªthe neighborhood near the docks, where Bernt had lived before moving here¡ªwasn¡¯t like that. They were mostly laborers, and not always of the most reputable variety. They¡¯d come down here with nothing to their name, and they had nowhere to go. It was late autumn, and there wasn¡¯t as much paid work to be had as there might have been a month or two earlier. The fields outside the city were bare and river traffic had already slowed. Now, they¡¯d moved into the peripheral tunnels of the refugee quarter, and the situation was getting worse as people ran out of food. They really would need to do something soon¡ªbut that was above Bernt¡¯s pay grade. That was the government¡¯s job, or maybe they¡¯d end up thrusting it on Fiora. Disentangling himself from the pushy woman, Bernt made his way down the street and did his best to ignore the unfriendly stares of hungry-looking men and women. Within a minute, he was walking into the large new cavern¡ªnearly half as big as the Undercity Market. Bernt homed in on the address he¡¯d been given and made his way across. It was a large unit, with a brand new wooden door and a sign that read ¡°Fallan¡¯s Fabrics.¡± He could hear a voice ranting on the other side of the door. ¡°What were they thinking, letting those filthy dock rats in where people are trying to rebuild their lives?! And now they want to send us Underkeepers to keep the peace. Underkeepers! Where is the City Guard in all this? Bad enough that they let an enemy army overrun half the city. What did the count think was going to happen when they outsourced the defense of the city to sewer workers! I mean, honestly, who does that?¡± Taking a deep breath, Bernt let it out and knocked. It was going to be a long day. 3.3 Interrogation Iriala tossed her notes down on her small writing desk in disgust and paced around the cell, watching her prisoner. She¡¯d interviewed the Duergar abjurer twice more since the first time, and the picture that had emerged was as bleak as it was bizarre. ¡°So, once again, from the beginning. Tell me if I¡¯ve got this right,¡± she began, her interpreter repeating the words in Duergar as she spoke in a now well-practiced routine. ¡°Your king, Grundrik, housed a powerful demon, Nuros, in the body of his son in exchange for power. Deciding that wasn¡¯t enough, he has since fed the demon all the souls he could get his hands on. And when he ran out of soft targets down below, he decided to head toward the surface next.¡± She waited for Enki to finish and the Duergar mage to nod before continuing. ¡°Alright. And you knew that he was also feeding it the souls of your people. Everybody knew.¡± Another nod. ¡°And they¡¯re¡­ fine with it?¡± As Enki translated, the Duergar, whose name was Yirik, frowned and then shrugged. ¡°Every day, a stone falls from above.¡± Iriala blinked at the bizarre idiom and looked over to Enki, prompting the dwarf to translate. She understood a lot of Duergar words¡ªbut that didn¡¯t mean she understood what the hells they were saying. ¡°It means something like ¡®that¡¯s life¡¯. Bad things are expected. Duergar are very fatalistic. It¡¯s not that nobody cares, they just don''t expect anything better. For good reason, most likely. I can¡¯t imagine that someone like this Grundrik rules with a light touch.¡± That was an understatement if Iriala had ever heard one. But they were getting off track. Yirik was lying to her. He¡¯d explicitly said, and just confirmed again, that his king Grundrik was looking for soft targets. A surface city might technically qualify, considering how difficult it was to adequately protect a population from subterranean threats. But she knew the Duergar hadn¡¯t come looking for Halfbridge. They¡¯d met inside the kobold warren, and both parties had been trying to bring down Conperion¡¯s lair ¨C targets didn¡¯t get any less soft than that. Even if the kobolds were probably an easy source of souls, he had to know that taking a poke at a dragon was playing with fire. Now that she thought about it, the wily old lizard had gotten away clean and effectively dumped this problem in their laps! He was probably laughing at them, wherever he''d slunk off to. Iriala paced around the stoic Duergar, considering what she¡¯d learned. Why lie? Why lie about this? ¡°He¡¯s trying to hide what he¡¯s doing with the demons!¡± she concluded out loud. ¡°At least for a little while. This isn''t about soft targets, it¡¯s about discretion.¡± Enki looked at her with a puzzled expression and opened her mouth to translate for the prisoner, but Iriala waved at her to stop. ¡°He said that Grundrik only rules a small part of the Duergar Empire. Think about it. Why fight a war against a dragon and his inexhaustible horde of kobolds? Why try to destroy the first city you find when you reach the surface? It¡¯s needlessly reckless and frankly unnecessary if Grundrik already had the entire might of the empire behind him. The Duergar have never attempted to seize surface territory before ¨C why would they? We''ve never been a threat to them, and they don¡¯t even like it here.¡± It was obvious, now that she considered it. The Duergar prisoners who¡¯d been tasked with rebuilding the Crafters¡¯ District had suffered terrible sunburns on every inch of exposed skin, despite the gloomy winter weather. A few had even started to temporarily lose their vision. It was so bad that the magistrate had begun exclusively working them at night after a few days. ¡°They must have plenty of enemies in the Depths that they could target instead of us. It would be like orcs going to the bottom of the ocean to slaughter the merpeople. So why come up here to kill our people? It¡¯s because the rest of the Duergar Empire isn¡¯t watching the surface. They don¡¯t care about us, and they won¡¯t notice if a city or three go missing. Not until Grundrik has his greater demon. At that point, he can leverage it down below, to seize power inside the Empire.¡± Enki blinked at her, considering. Then she nodded. ¡°Alright. You want me to check?¡± ¡°Yes, I want to see his reaction. Don¡¯t accuse him of lying, just ask him why Grundrik is trying to hide his demon from their Imperial Council.¡± Yirik was a skilled abjurer, but at the end of the day he was just a grunt. He didn¡¯t really understand politics, and as it turned out, he wasn¡¯t a very good liar. ¡°Grundrik hides nothing!¡± he blustered unconvincingly. ¡°He raises Norus for the glory of all Duergar. His peers stand in awe of his might, and our enemies quake in terror!¡± Iriala snorted. Grundrik''s fellow vassal kings might not pay much attention to what occurred up on the surface, but she seriously doubted they wouldn''t recognize the threat Grundrik represented if they were aware of it. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. The late Madurian emperors had tried to bind demon lords and greater demons to their service, compensating them with the souls of their enemies. When those ran out, they pivoted to troublesome minorities, and then their most unruly towns. Millions had died, their souls devoured. It was this that had finally gotten the gods involved. All of the gods saved souls from among their faithful, and none would abide poachers. When priests began to preach against the emperor¡¯s blasphemy, they pushed out the temples and tried to banish their own gods from the holy city of Mahat¡¯Ur. They drove the priests into hiding high up into the Sacral Peaks above the Phoenix Reaches, where the great temples still sat today. Four of the gods¡ªEyeli, Balarian, Ruzinia and Noruk¡ªhad unmade the eldritch abominations that propped up the empire¡¯s might and left the imperial family and their Circle of Nine to the tender mercies of their own populace. Their temples led the people in the revolt, and the religious order they jointly founded afterward ¨C the Invigilation ¨C brutally suppressed the practice of demon-summoning in the former empire for centuries afterward, continuing to function even as the newly liberated empire collapsed into chaos. Even if the Duergar had, by some miracle, missed the rise and fall of the Madurian Empire, they had to have gods of their own who would balk at Nuros'' actions in their domain. She couldn''t know with absolute certainty, of course. The Duergar had always been very closed off¡ªthat was why there were no clear maps of their empire, no detailed accounts of their history, or much information about their internal politics. Iriala had checked. But they were an ancient people, even older than the dwarven city states. Imperial records mentioned encounters with Duergar over a millennium ago, and they were described as a large and powerful nation, even then. So, that begged the question: What would the Imperial Council do if they knew exactly what their errant vassal was up to? ¡°Where, exactly, is the larger Duergar Empire ruled from?¡± she asked. ¡°How far away is it? Can we make contact?¡± Yirik shook his head when he heard the question and gave a short, negative reply. Enki asked him a follow-up question on her own, and it took a few rounds of clarification before the dwarf finally turned back to Iriala. ¡°He can¡¯t really point to it on one of our maps¡ªhe doesn¡¯t know the surface geography since their borders don¡¯t extend that far. Another problem is that it¡¯s down just as much as it is any horizontal distance¡ªthe Duergar Empire is three-dimensional. He says he could reach the border to the ¡°Seat of Molten Stone¡± territory on foot in about a month.¡± That had to be an exaggeration. Most of that would still be horizontal distance, no matter what the prisoner said. Duergar seemed to be heat-resistant, sure, but she doubted even they could live much more than a league or two beneath the surface. Even if their territories were stacked on top of one another in layers, it didn¡¯t really have to go that far down to accommodate enough of them to dwarf the former Madurian Empire in total size. Assuming normal conditions, that made maybe a hundred and fifty leagues. Unfortunately, that presented a new problem. They would have to send a delegation outside of Besermark¡¯s borders, and Iriala wasn''t so sure that she could get the count to support that kind of move. He wouldn''t just have to get approval from the king, but also from whoever else''s territory they would have to pass through. As if this mess wasn¡¯t already complicated enough. Iriala sighed and scribbled down a few notes. There was nothing for it. She needed more and better information than she could get from Yirik. It was time to get help. Sighing to herself, she got up and collected her papers. ¡°Enki, please go over to the scryers¡¯ office and ask them to relay a message to the Dwarven Confederation embassy on behalf of the Mages¡¯ Guild. I¡¯d like to formally request any intelligence they have, even historical, on the borders of the Duergar Empire and its internal political structure. Based on what we¡¯ve heard from Yirik here, our own records are either outdated or outright fabricated.¡± Enki grimaced slightly, tilting her head to the side. ¡°Are you sure? The City States are pretty paranoid, generally speaking. They might think that¡¯s just an excuse to try to build a better picture of where they are in the depths.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure. There¡¯s no way they haven¡¯t heard what happened here by now. They know we have a legitimate interest in this information, and it¡¯s not like they¡¯re friends with the Duergar, right?¡± ¡°I suppose.¡± Enki said reluctantly as she rose. Beseri dwarves didn¡¯t get along very well with their cousins in the Confederacy of Dwarven City States, but Iriala didn''t have time to indulge minor ethnic rivalries right now. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that.¡± Iriala said grumpily. ¡°You¡¯ve got the easy part. I¡¯m the one who has to go and present this to the count to try to convince him to do something. It¡¯s not going to be easy with Arice pressuring him to declare victory so he can go home to play court politics as a war hero." Iriala was halfway up to her office, trying to formulate an argument to drive the potential gravity of the larger situation home to the count, when a familiar voice called out from behind her. ¡°Archmage Iriala, urgent message!¡± It was Nole, breathing hard as he ran up the stairs behind her. She stopped and waited for him. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°The scryers," he began, catching his breath. "Correspondence with Loamfurth was interrupted this morning. They assumed it was either a natural phenomenon, or perhaps interference from the Duergar again. They started out scrying the Depths locally, checking for another army, but there was nothing there.¡± Nole paused, and Iriala raised her eyebrows at him. ¡°I assume that¡¯s not the news?¡± ¡°No, archmage,¡± he continued, flustered. ¡°When the afternoon shift arrived a few minutes ago, they decided to try a long-distance far-seeing spell¡ªall of them together.¡± He swallowed, nervously glancing to the side, as if struggling to choose his words. ¡°Archmage, Loamfurth is burning. The whole city. No signs of resistance remaining.¡± Iriala stared at Nole for a moment, uncomprehending. Loamfurth was one of the largest cities in Besermark, with a population of nearly fifty-thousand people. The Duergar had continued to conduct raids on Beseri towns and cities even after their defeat at Halfbridge, but Loamfurth hadn¡¯t seen anything like the siege here. The city¡¯s scryers had estimated there to be no more than a few hundred Duergar hiding in the Depths. There was no way they should have been able to threaten such a large and well-defended stronghold. Evidently, they¡¯d been wrong. 3.4 Look on Ye Mighty and Despair ¡°So, do you think she¡¯s going to pull it off?¡± Nirlig asked as he took a sip of the pungent, earthy-tasting beer that he¡¯d brought over. Bernt turned from his stone hearth and held out a plate for him¡ªfish, potatoes and cabbage. The goblin accepted with his crippled, three-fingered hand and dug in. The quality of the food available had improved some since the siege had broken, though the prices were still high. Fortunately, Bernt¡¯s financial situation had improved a bit, since he¡¯d had the presence of mind to participate in looting Duergar corpses after the battle, despite everything that had happened. ¡°Josie¡¯s smart,¡± he said, shrugging as he sat down opposite the goblin on a stone seat in front of his coffee table¡ªessentially just another rectangle of magically-shaped stone. ¡°It could work. She told me if the crown accepts Jori¡¯s employment contract as valid, then she has a pretty good case. Most likely, the Solicitors¡¯ Office in Teres will argue that it isn¡¯t. As an extraplanar entity, Jori isn¡¯t technically classified as a person, so she can¡¯t really enter into legal contracts. On the other hand, there¡¯s no law that says she isn¡¯t a person, either.¡± Nirlig scoffed and rolled his eyes as he shoveled food into his mouth. ¡°Insane. Do they even hear themselves? Honestly! Only humans would argue about who¡¯s a person.¡± ¡°A legal person.¡± Bernt clarified. ¡°It¡¯s not the same thing.¡± To be honest, Bernt thought it was a stupid, hair-splitting argument to have, too. But Josie had been adamant that the distinction was important. Governments had to draw a line somewhere, or something. ¡°Oh, I know.¡± Nirlig said darkly. ¡°Vael Dirin was a dungeon until the accords were signed, you know. My dad wasn¡¯t a legal person until he was about my age.¡± Bernt did know that. In fact, most people here in the city still called it ¡®Goblins¡¯ Delve¡¯. All of the major goblin settlements that had been folded into the country during the accords had two names. Goblins used their endonyms while most ¡°traditional¡± Beseris continued to call them by whatever names the Adventurers¡¯ Guild had given the various dungeons over centuries of raiding. ¡°Well,¡± Bernt said, ¡°let¡¯s hope it doesn¡¯t take them centuries to make the right decision, this time.¡± ¡°Please.¡± Nirlig said, cracking a sardonic smile. ¡°They signed the Kallrixian Accords because they didn¡¯t have a choice. ¡°Rightness¡± had nothing to do with it. Jori doesn¡¯t have an entire country backing her claim.¡± ¡°Yea, well. We¡¯ll just have to trust Josie.¡± Bernt said, grimacing. He didn¡¯t want to hang all his hopes on her, but it was probably for the best if people thought he did. Josie had warned him that the Solicitors would be watching him. ¡°Did you hear that Fiora opened up recruitment again?¡± he asked, changing the subject. The conversation turned to work as they finished their meal, and Nirlig excused himself soon after, no doubt sensing Bernt¡¯s subdued mood. When he was finally alone, Bernt cast several more torch spells to banish any shadows in the room. He doubted that Radast¡ªor his shade¡ªcould spend all his time monitoring him, but a bit of paranoia now might save him a lot of trouble later. He pulled a book down off of a stone shelf on the far wall and flipped it open, setting it down on the table. The ¡°Summoners¡¯ Guide to Elementals¡± described various kinds of elementals in detail, as well as the various methods that could be used to bind one into service. Most importantly, it also included methods for summoning, though Bernt was losing hope that they would be directly useful. That wasn¡¯t to say that he hadn¡¯t learned anything, of course. He¡¯d spent days poring over the book, trying to grasp not just the text, but the underlying theories that it referred to. Elemental summoning was apparently relatively simple, if not exactly easy. A simple rune circle could pierce the veil, though it had to be drawn using an appropriate material that resonated with the target plane. That alone wasn¡¯t enough, though. The inscribed pebble Bernt had in his bag could open a portal to the elemental plane of fire, but it wasn¡¯t stable. It wouldn¡¯t contain the energies on the other side properly, and it would collapse a fraction of a second after opening. To actually summon something from an elemental plane, the portal needed to be properly stabilized and keyed to allow only a certain kind of entity to move through it. And once that was done, the summoner still needed to find a way to draw whatever they were hoping to bind to the portal. It was all very fascinating, but the problem was that the diagram describing a complete summoning ritual looked nothing like what Bernt had seen in the warlocks¡¯ ritual chamber when they¡¯d summoned Jori. It was made up of three concentric rune circles, each with a different function. Critically, none of these circles affected the stability of the portal. To stabilize a portal, the summoner needed to place it at a natural confluence point¡ªwhere an elemental plane¡¯s influence bled into the material realm. As far as Bernt knew, these kinds of confluences were unique to the elemental planes. The hells simply didn¡¯t intersect with the mortal world ¨C at least not in the same way. That was almost certainly why the Solicitors couldn¡¯t simply open a portal to the hells for Ed to come back through¡ªthere was no appropriate place to make one. All of this information led to the same conclusion. While demon summoning might be a part of the same school of ritual magic, the process warlocks used was completely different than the one described here. And he still had no idea where to start. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Frustrated, Bernt flipped back to the section on fire elementals. Each one came with an illustration, a short description and a sequence of five runes that could be used to key a stable portal to the pictured entity. The first was something that just looked like a simple candle flame, labeled a ¡°Lesser Flame Sprite¡±, but it quickly got more interesting from there. Bernt skimmed through the list, reading the descriptions. There were quite a few different types, and they weren¡¯t purely fire, either. There was a spinning pillar of flame called a Fire Whirl, a snake made of liquid flame, a tree with flames in place of leaves, and an odd golem-like humanoid that appeared to be made of molten rock. Fire elementals would be a fascinating topic to study, if he could. How did they manipulate their energies? Would they have some kind of mana network, or were they directly made of mana? Would it work like sorcery, or was it another, completely different branch of magic? In the end, though, it didn¡¯t matter. The nearest confluence with the elemental plane of fire¡ªand the only one that Bernt knew of¡ªwas the Phoenix Reaches, nearly a month¡¯s travel away and under the control of a foreign country. *** Ed blinked his eyes against the bright light in front of him as clarity returned to his mind. The creepy demon that had been keeping him contained was still leaving, but he wasn¡¯t quite sharp enough to start casting yet. The archmage couldn¡¯t quite remember how he¡¯d gotten here, but he knew he was thirsty. Patting at his robes, he fished out his old tin cup and stared at it dumbly for a second. Then, pulling his wits together, he laboriously conjured water into it, drained it, and repeated the process over again. Feeling a bit more sane, he looked around, doing his best to ignore the hollow emptiness in his belly. How long had it been since he¡¯d eaten something? He was standing on bare basalt, surrounded by a high stone wall in an oval shape. Above it were stands, packed with demons large and small. He was standing in some kind of ridiculous arena. Shit. Did demons have blood sports? Whatever the hells for? ¡°Serve, mortal, and you will be granted sustenance,¡± a voice said from nearby, and Ed jumped. He whirled to find a man-sized tentacle wriggling behind him where it had apparently burst from the stone at some point before he¡¯d regained his senses. The damned thing had a mouth. ¡°Pass,¡± he replied, scowling furiously, and clapped his hands together sharply, instantly channeling a spellform in front of himself as he did. The hand gesture was a mnemonic device¡ªand one he didn¡¯t really need¡ªbut old habits die hard. The tentacle exploded messily, spattering black blood and worse all over. If there was one thing Ed liked about getting dumped into a literal hellhole, it was that he didn¡¯t have to worry about collateral damage. Drawing on both his augmentations, Ed manifested an otherwise very simple spellform and cleaned it up to produce the effect he wanted with speed and efficiency honed over decades. For an archmage, he had a relatively simple architecture¡ªa favorite for the military. It combined a classic military force build with a more advanced sonomancer¡¯s architecture. The result was a tightly focused and extremely internally compatible build that excelled at exactly one thing¡ªbreaking things. He activated the spell, and saw the air warp in front of him as it manifested with a deafening rattle that stole his breath, even though it was pointed away from him. The wall in front of him shook and cracked. Then it started to sag. The Demons in that section of the stands fared no better. Ed couldn¡¯t see them very well¡ªhe didn¡¯t have a good angle¡ªbut he heard the screams. He knew what that spell did to regular folks. Demons were a lot tougher, but he imagined that they wouldn¡¯t enjoy bleeding from their brains much, either. ¡°Servants of Druz¡¯erub,¡± a colossal voice boomed out over the screams, ¡°a servant of servants, who dared to turn her hand against Varamemnon¡ªking of kings. She ,whose fidelity crumbled under the first whispers of K¡¯Thanizar, the skulking, forked-tongued deceiver, soiled my treasures with her unworthy hands. Today, her life is forfeit, and yours with it. See the fate that lies before you!¡± Ed stopped, unsure what was happening. Or rather, he could guess what was happening¡ªhe just wasn¡¯t sure what to do about it. Varamemnon was using him as some kind of cat¡¯s paw. Like when ancient kings would toss their prisoners into a den of lions. Except, if he understood this right, he was the lion in this scenario. Why? Couldn¡¯t the demon king take out his own trash? A section of the rock wall on the far side of the arena moved. Light glinted in the darkness beyond for a split second, then something large came hurtling out. Ed raised his hands, ready to fight. But his opponent wasn¡¯t coming at him¡ªshe had been thrown. The creature hit the ground hard and rolled, the delicate bones of her wings breaking audibly. He held back for a moment. Dissension in Varamemnon¡¯s ranks wasn¡¯t really a problem for him. Should he really be killing this one for him? She was smaller than he would have expected from some kind of demon lord. Or lady. When she got up, Ed¡¯s blood froze. She was tall and proportioned almost like a human. Uncannily so, actually, except¡­ uh¡­ exaggerated. If that wasn¡¯t obvious enough, the vestigial wings and deep, too-large black eyes gave it away. Druz¡¯erub was a succubus. Well, shit. Hurriedly, Ed sent a magic missile arcing toward her, even as he backed away. He couldn¡¯t afford to let her get close. She had to be, what, class four, maybe five? Never mind physical contact, he needed to avoid even smelling her or he was dead. The demon dodged the first attack, but bounced off of the force shield he¡¯d raised right in front of her a moment later. Furiously, she tried to first feel around it, then she simply jumped over it, clearing the ten-foot high barrier easily. She was coming at him now, but the delay had given Ed the second he needed to think of a solution. The mage hand cantrip activated, and invisible force clamped down around the creature, holding it in place. Ed tried to simply crush her, but the damned thing was too strong. She screamed so loud his ears rang, and the crowd up above answered. Clenching his jaw furiously, the archmage followed up with a magic missile so dense that it looked like a solid object ¨C appropriately so. The succubus¡¯ head nearly came off, and what was left wasn¡¯t head-shaped anymore. Ed looked away. He already had enough nightmare fuel to give his nightmares nightmares. Absentmindedly, he patted at his robes. Where was his pipe? He needed a smoke right now. ¡°Look on, and see what befalls those who would raise their hand against me.¡± Varamemnon¡¯s voice rumbled. ¡°See Druz¡¯erub, who was slain by mortal cattle. Weep, you who were servants of one who was slain by cattle, and beg for the magnanimity of Varamemnon.¡± Something hit Ed in the back of the head, and he stumbled forward, falling to one knee. What was that? Where¡ª? 3.5 Deus Vult Iriala rose from her seat, casting her gaze around at all those assembled and willing them to get their godsforsaken heads out of their asses, just this once. Word had gotten around quickly among all those who mattered last night, of course, but she could tell that most of the people here hadn¡¯t come looking to make themselves useful. That it had taken nearly a full day to organize this meeting was testament to the fact that no one here was planning to do anything to handle the situation. General Arice was eyeing the door as if he couldn¡¯t wait to get out of here and make all this someone else¡¯s problem. Now that he could take credit for saving Halfbridge from a major assault, he was ready to retire back to life at court in Teres. In his mind, losing an entire city to a similar assault only made his own supposed achievement shine brighter. Count Narald and Gerold, the magistrate, were focused on Halfbridge¡¯s coffers ¨C trying to work out how to get through the winter and feed the thousands of refugees that would be coming down the road in the next week or two. They were already stretched thin in the aftermath of the siege. The guilds were still reeling from the battle. They¡¯d suffered losses, and none were eager to put more of their members at risk. It really only left her with one option ¨C the one she¡¯d spent her entire career avoiding. ¡°Loamfurth has fallen,¡± she began, sticking to the facts, first. ¡°My scryers have spent hours examining the aftermath, and agree that the forces involved are at least equal in number to those seen here in Halfbridge. Duergar and demons were seen sweeping through the streets in large groups as recently as an hour ago, rooting out any survivors who didn¡¯t manage to escape. They made no attempt to block our scrying attempts.¡± ¡°How many Duergar, exactly?¡± Arice said in a carefully polite tone that still managed to suggest that she was exaggerating. Several of the nobles began to whisper amongst themselves, but Iriala ignored both them and Arice and forged ahead. ¡°Judging by the number of refugees sighted on the roads, we estimate that Nuros, the demon lord we believe to be responsible for this aggression, could have captured and consumed as many as thirty thousand souls. The exact numbers would depend on the type and placement of the soulstone used, and how quickly they managed to set it up.¡± The blunt pronouncement was met with dead silence. ¡°Thirty thousand?!¡± Arice spluttered. ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous! Impossible!¡± He was right, technically. Even if the soulstone had been at the very center of the city, and they managed to put it up immediately after starting the assault, she doubted that they would have captured even ten thousand. All magic had limits, and that included the capacity of the soulstones themselves ¨C never mind their range and the speed at which people would run away from a horde of demons pouring into their streets. Ten thousand was bad enough, in her estimation, but Iriala needed to maximize the shock factor for this meeting. She needed to provoke a response from the temples. ¡°Chief Solicitor Radast warned us a month ago in this very room that the Duergar are attempting to create and instrumentalize a greater demon,¡± she continued, not bothering to reply to the general. ¡°While they mostly failed here, we must assume that they have now succeeded at Loamfurth.¡± Nervous chatter erupted all over the room. Several of the attendees tried to call out questions, including Arice, but Iriala couldn¡¯t make them out. Narald, for his part, was silent. He sat back in his chair, gray-faced and looking as though he¡¯d aged a decade in the space of a few seconds. Iriala, focused her gaze to the right side of the room, where the clergy were assembled. There were six of them, three priests and three paladins. She¡¯d expected them to say something at this point, but they remained silent. With a bit of effort and a discreet hand-motion, she cast a cantrip to amplify her voice. ¡°There are some better news as well! As I¡¯m sure General Arice¡¯s own interrogators will corroborate, we are not the only ones who may take issue with our enemy¡¯s actions. In fact, these Duergar, and the demons they are working to empower, likely only see us as a resource to help them fuel a larger conflict ¨C a civil war against greater powers within their own empire.¡± At that, Narald held up his hand, silencing the room. He¡¯d been shaken by the news, but he was watching her now with sharp eyes. ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked. ¡°Where are you getting this?¡± ¡°I interrogated one of the Duergar mages,¡± she explained. ¡°King Grundrik¡ªwhose people and demons we¡¯ve been fighting¡ªis just one of many rulers within the larger Duergar Empire. Considering what he¡¯s doing, I would guess that he¡¯s targeting us in hopes of raising a greater demon where the rest of the empire won¡¯t notice.¡± Arice scoffed loudly. ¡°Come on! You can¡¯t believe everything you hear, archmage. If the Empire were so large, the Duergar would have conquered the world by now!¡± ¡°Right, of course!¡± Iriala said with false sincerity. ¡°Because they want our land. I¡¯m sure they want to take up wheat farming and go sunbathing. Perhaps they¡¯ll become sailors!¡± There were a few titters. The idiot grew red in the face and spluttered, but then subsided with a thunderous expression. He¡¯d really set himself up for that one. Most dwarves avoided living on the surface if they could manage it ¨C especially those who weren¡¯t born there. They avoided spending time outdoors when possible. Their eyes were sensitive to bright sunlight and they suffered terrible sunburns if they didn¡¯t take proper precautions. Dwarven nations barely treated the surface as real territory, to the point that the Confederacy of Dwarven City States didn¡¯t truly enforce their borders as their neighbors recognized them. Gnolls, orcs and trolls roamed freely through their mountains and forests, so long as they didn¡¯t try to intrude into their halls. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Before the general could attempt to defend his wounded pride, though, one of the priests finally stepped forward. Iriala tried to keep the relief off her face. It had taken them long enough. ¡°Friends, hear me and listen!" he said in a sonorous voice. "The archmage speaks wisely, though I would caution greater prudence. In the worst case scenario, we are playing the role of Illuria in a Duergar reenactment of the Madurian collapse. Until proven otherwise, this is what we must assume to be the truth.¡± He was an older man in white and red robes ¨C a high priest of Noruk. Iriala thought his name might be Jannis, or something like that. She usually went out of her way to avoid anyone from the Temple District. That was a policy that would now have to change, unfortunately. Priests were usually considered observers in court, but this wasn¡¯t just a purely political issue anymore. Nobody interrupted him when he spoke. ¡°Once the fighting starts, the other factions in their empire will likely attempt to counter using the same methods. If the empire is truly as large as these captives imply, there¡¯s no telling where they might spring up then. They might appear under Teres, in Madzhur or even in Illuria across the Sea. The Duergar wish to spit in the eyes of the gods themselves. And the gods will not remain silent.¡± The count squinted at him skeptically. ¡°What did you have in mind, exactly?¡± ¡°This is a spiritual matter as much as it is political, my lord,¡± the priest pronounced, taking his time with the words to lend them additional weight. In Iriala¡¯s opinion, he was laying it on a bit too thick. ¡°It was only through the gods themselves that we survived the fall of the empire and it will be through them that we defeat the present evil as well. Noruk calls for war. We must build a holy coalition to root out this evil from beneath the earth.¡± The high priest turned to fully face the count and offered him a slight bow. ¡°My lord, we are not just one city, or one kingdom, set against this foe. My brethren in Madzhur, Illuria and Kallrix will support us and bring aid from all across the land. Even the heads of kings must bow before the will of the gods.¡± Iriala managed to suppress an eyeroll at the priest¡¯s overblown words. Barely. The high priest wanted to¡­ what? Mobilize the entire former empire ¨C except Miria, for some reason ¨C and march their armies down into the Depths to destroy the Duergar Empire directly? She supposed it was the sort of initiative she should have expected from the Madurian god of war. Narald was looking at the high priest with clear exasperation, obviously trying to think of a way to deny him without also disparaging his famously hot-tempered god. Iriala looked back toward the other representatives from the Temple District, hoping one of them would step up to fix this. None of them moved to speak. She ground her teeth. Surely, the other temples, never mind the gods themselves, wouldn¡¯t just let Noruk try to drag half the continent to war? Then one of them, an elderly paladin, looked up to meet her eyes for a moment and raised his eyebrows just a fraction. And there it was. Those assholes. They were waiting for her to make a move, to drag her into their stupid games. As if she didn¡¯t have enough problems. But she¡¯d known this was going to happen sooner or later. Suppressing her irritation and keeping her face calm, Iriala cleared her throat. ¡°If I may, it seems¡­ premature to attempt to drag the entire continent into a war in unknown territory against a mostly unknown enemy. We are not at war with the entire Duergar Empire ¨C not yet. Moreover, if I remember my history, four of the gods worked together to safeguard humanity the last time we faced such a crisis. Would it not be appropriate for the temples of Balarian, Ruzinia and Eyeli to involve themselves in this matter as well? Should they not, at the least, be consulted, lest we raise their ire?¡± ¡°Ah¡­ yes, this is true!¡± Count Narald looked at her like a drowning man who¡¯d just been thrown a rope. In a more formal tone, he addressed the priest. ¡°High Priest Hannis, honored representatives of the temples, I hereby request the counsel of the gods. Please summon the appropriate representatives to court tomorrow, so that we may find the best way forward.¡± Hannis looked only a little annoyed as he sketched a bow and stepped back. This was probably what they¡¯d all been expecting. Except now Iriala had taken some sort of side in temple politics, and she didn¡¯t even know what all the current fault lines were. *** Bernt boiled water in Kustov¡¯s stone kettle as he sorted through Lin¡¯s selection of herbal teas. The old goblin witch had become a fixture in the Underkeepers¡¯ complex, fielding complaints from the public ¨C especially from the Goblin Quarter ¨C and keeping the break room well stocked. In exchange, Fiora didn¡¯t send her out on patrol. It had been a long day and night had already fallen up on the surface, but he wasn¡¯t ready to go home yet. All that waited for him there was an empty house and more spellcasting practice. It felt wrong to waste time, but he couldn¡¯t keep going like this forever. He needed to relax, even if it was just for a few minutes. Otherwise, he was going to burn himself out. At least that was what he tried to tell himself. Selecting one that smelled nice, Bernt dumped a pinch into the steaming pot, grabbed three cups and carried it back to the table where Torvald and Nirlig were already sitting. As he approached, though, he noticed someone new had joined them. A white-robed woman was speaking with Torvald and throwing uncomfortable glances at Nirlig and the other goblins in the room. She wore a laurel wreath on her head, and a belt made of rough woven fibers that had been dyed green. He recognized the getup ¨C she was a priestess of Eyeli, the goddess of agriculture. ¡°Come on, Theona, isn¡¯t this the sort of thing priests usually handle?¡± Torvald asked, looking flustered. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m a paladin, and I just barely got my calling!¡± ¡°Right! But Ruzinian pilgrims are notoriously difficult to pin down,¡± the priestess explained. ¡°There isn''t anyone else! It¡¯s a matter of principle. Ruzinia has to be represented at the meeting, if only out of precedent. Not inviting you would be disrespectful to the goddess, since she¡¯s one of the four.¡± Bernt put the tea down and pulled another chair over, wordlessly inviting her to sit as he settled down himself. She declined with a little shake of her head and an embarrassed cough. ¡°Wait, wait. The last time?¡± Nirlig threw in. ¡°You mean three hundred years ago?¡± Theona didn¡¯t look at the goblin, keeping her gaze on Torvald. ¡°Nobody is expecting you to figure it all out yourself. Mostly, we just need you to help us keep the Temple of Noruk in check. Just show up, alright?¡± With that, she backed away a step before turning and leaving the room. Bernt watched her leave, trying to make sense of what he¡¯d heard. Shaking his head, he looked from Torvald to Nirlig and back again. ¡°So¡­ what in the hells was that about?¡± 3.6 The Invigilation Ed shook his head, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him. He was sitting down on hard ground, and a flabby, gray creature lay dead at his feet. It bled black blood that evaporated into what looked like steam or fog even as it poured out onto the ground. ¡°Great One! Ed! Can you walk?¡± hissed a familiar voice. He blinked, and found the speaker, a familiar-looking imp, standing right behind the body. She wasn¡¯t wearing her usual gray robes, but rather an odd, scaly loincloth and a belt with a few pouches hanging from it. ¡°Jori?¡± What the hells? Ed pushed himself up to his feet and looked around. He was in a stone cell, and the door was open. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°I killed the whisperer!¡± Jori said, as if that explained everything. Ed grunted and patted at his robes, turning around to look for his pipe. Where had it gone? Jori tugged at his robes. ¡°Come on. I have a way out. This place is the worst, do you smell that?!¡± The implications of the situation finally hit Ed as he shook off the last of his demonic jailor¡¯s influence. ¡°You¡¯re bigger! What happened? And how did you get in here?¡± Squinting down at the body, Ed kicked at it, rolling it over. It was naked except for a shoulder belt. A few odds and ends were tucked into it, but he was only interested in his pipe. ¡°We won! I killed Nuros¡¯ host with my sorcery ¨C by myself! Afterwards, the Solicitors wanted to deport me, because of the contract, but then they summoned me back. They wanted me to find you ¨C I brought food!¡± Ed¡¯s stomach growled at the imp¡¯s words, but he ignored it, pausing as he retrieved his pipe to stare at her. ¡°You¡­ what?¡± What did she mean they won? He shook his head, clearing it. One thing at a time. ¡°Never mind, tell me later. How do you expect to get out of here? I don¡¯t imagine we¡¯re going to get very far, running from a Demon King.¡± He peeked out the door. The black stone corridor outside the cell was empty. ¡°I¡¯m very sneaky!¡± Jori said proudly, pulling what looked like a tiny waterskin off of her belt. ¡°They use these for money here. Usually it¡¯s just little scraps, but I managed to get a whole one in there.¡± She grinned at him and winked conspiratorially. ¡°They¡¯re going to think you broke free, and that you and the guard killed each other!¡± She popped the stopper from the skin and tipped it over. Silver mist poured out, swirling around and into itself oddly for a moment before it unfurled into the vague shape of a man ¨C one missing an arm and the lower part of a leg. Ed stared at it for a moment, trying to make sense of it. Had she brought a decoy soul? ¡°Jori,¡± he said with as much patience as he could muster. ¡°That¡¯s not going to work. Mortals leave corpses behind.¡± ¡°Yes, yes,¡± she said impatiently, tugging on his sleeve as she moved toward the door. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I fixed it already. I need your help, though!¡± He followed her into the corridor, gripping his pipe tightly in one hand as he did. How had Jori even made it in here without being caught? How bad was the security in this prison? Jori led him around the corner, and he nearly tripped over the bulky corpse of a demonic guard. The hellhound was large and probably weighed half again as much as he did. Looking closely, Ed realized that one of its eyes had been pierced through ¨C probably by one of Jori¡¯s claws. How had she gotten the drop on it? The imp gestured at him impatiently. ¡°Come on, help me get it back to your cell! It¡¯s going to work great, just wait.¡± Deciding to humor her for now, Ed seized the hound by one of its legs and dragged it back toward the cell. He looked over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure nobody was coming, but it looked like the demons really did have terrible security measures. Not even any wards, so far. Back aching from the strain, he finally managed to haul the thing into the cell with Jori pushing from behind. She was bigger now, but it was still mostly a symbolic effort on her part. There was no chance she could have shifted the dead monster on her own. He sat down to catch his breath for a moment when he was done, feeling weak from the strain, not to mention days without food and too little water. His stomach growled loudly. ¡°Oh, right!¡± Jori said, responding to the sound as if he¡¯d said something. She reached into a pouch at her belt and pulled out some kind of flaky-looking pie, which she held out to him. ¡°Try it,¡± Jori urged. ¡°They¡¯re great!¡± Ed accepted the gift mechanically, staring from it back to Jori. Tentatively, he took a bite. It was filled with potatoes and stewed meat. Pork. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± she said, frowning. ¡°I told you I had food!¡± She had said that, hadn''t she? Somehow, Ed hadn¡¯t really believed it. It wasn¡¯t until he actually tasted it that it really hit him. He grinned, the expression feeling alien on his face. A dry cough escaped his lips, morphing into something that could pass for a chuckle a moment later. He laughed, first in disbelief and then in pure, blissful relief. His people were alive, and he had resupply. An ally, even. Hell, he might not die here. Maybe. If they could make it out. As he chewed, Jori summoned hellfire into her hand and began spattering it on the walls and the floor, scorching the stones and melting small marks into it. Then she began pouring more down on the floor around the creature¡¯s head, deeply pitting the surface of the stone. Ed had to back up to keep her from setting his boots on fire. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Alright, now smash its head!¡± Jori said, pointing at the hellhound. He could see what she was doing now, and he was cautiously impressed. The demons were supposed to think he¡¯d broken free and killed the whisperer first. Then, when the hellhound came to investigate, he¡¯d defeated it, but burned himself up in the process, probably on the hound¡¯s blood. Not bothering with his focus, Ed flicked a magic missile down onto the hellhound¡¯s corpse, crushing its head like a rotten pumpkin. Ed knew that hellfire ate through flesh like dry leaves, but it was still a stretch to think he¡¯d managed to kill both of these demons and then burnt up without leaving any remains at all. But¡­ with a damaged soul right there, and no other explanation, they might swallow it. Besides, the demons here might never have even seen a mortal die before. For a solo rescue-operation, it was pretty impressive. Assuming, of course, that she actually had a way out of here. ¡°Not a bad idea.¡± he commented. Then, for good measure, he blew the cell door off its hinges. Jori blinked up at him. ¡°What was that for?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know if that hellhound could have opened the door by itself,¡± he explained, scowling down at the bodies. ¡°I hope you have a way for us to get out of this place clean. This isn¡¯t going to work if anybody sees us.¡± ¡°Of course I do!" she protested indignantly. "You aren¡¯t going to like it, though.¡± Ed scowled at her. ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± Jori grinned, and for the first time, Ed thought she looked like a real demon. *** Torvald shifted nervously in his seat and glanced at the others arrayed around the table. They sat in a crowded room in the castle, dominated by a long table, with Count Narald at the head and representatives of the other temples placed along it in order of importance. They were old men and women for the most part. High priests and paladins of renown. Behind the Count sat a handful of nobles, including Torvald¡¯s own mother who watched the proceedings with narrowed eyes. She¡¯d tried to talk him out of going this morning, and insisted on coming to observe the meeting when she failed. And then there was Torvald, who sat just two seats down from Narald himself, next to Hannis of the Temple of Noruk. He felt¡­ out of place, to say the least. He¡¯d seen what the Duergar were capable of ¨C he was one of just a few people in this room who had actually fought them. But to hear them seriously discuss the ramifications of the fall of Loamfurth ¨C well, it hit home in a way that nothing else had, so far. What they feared, and what they were trying to address, wasn¡¯t just a war against Besermark by a foreign country. They expected the Duergar to attempt to literally gobble up the entire country, and maybe their neighbors as well, just to fuel an even greater war against their own kind in the Depths. And that was assuming that not the entire Duergar Empire was after them. It was too big to contemplate. Like Torvald, most of the priests at the table had kept their mouths shut for most of the meeting, leaving the discussion to the few who had received direction from the gods on the matter. Even now, Torvald could feel the presence of the goddess as a warmth deep in his chest. She did not speak to him or prompt him to action, but he could feel her attention like a hand resting on his shoulder. It was a strange sensation, but it provided some comfort in an otherwise very unsettling situation. Hannis was obviously trying to start a war with the greater Duergar empire while Angjou, the high priestess of Balarian, argued for temperance. The god of storms had a hot temper, but he was also the god of trade and he tended to act in opposition to Noruk. War was bad for business, after all. ¡°If Noruk is calling his priests to the Sacral Peaks, we should join them,¡± Surin, the high priestess of Eyeli interjected, cutting off another tiresome statement from Hannis. ¡°Let us all go to the peaks. We need neither armies, nor a declaration of war to act. The mandate of the Invigilation remains collectively ours, even if we haven¡¯t used it in decades. This is what it¡¯s for!¡± The woman sat directly across from Torvald, next to Angjou, who grimaced at her words. The four of them sat closest to the Count because it was their gods ¨C Noruk, Balarian, Eyeli and Ruzinia ¨C who had stepped in the last time that greater demons were instrumentalized in the mortal world. They had appeared together personally to unmake them, tearing down the basis of the last Madurian Emperor¡¯s power in the process. A murmur rose around the room as the assembled priests and nobles considered what they¡¯d just heard. Count Narald sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. Hannis stared at Surin with narrowed eyes, no doubt trying to work out what she was up to. The Invigilation, as it was called, was the mandate of their four temples to finish what their gods had started ¨C to excise the threat of power-hungry warlocks and the monsters they sought to wield from the mortal world, and to keep them from reemerging again. They had waged a bloody, century-long war across the entire former empire, but what remained today was mostly a symbolic organization. The temple priests still preached against the summoning of demons, but no one actually still went out to hunt warlocks ¨C that was the Solicitors¡¯ job. For the most part, priests today remained in their temples, and their paladins pursued other goals. All of them except the Ruzinians, who continued to do what they¡¯d always done ¨C roaming the land to save those who called Her name. Still, Torvald doubted that even they had seriously pursued warlocks or demons in a century, at least. ¡°The temples alone cannot operate effectively against transgressions of warlocks in the Duergar Empire.¡± Hannis said finally. ¡°We don¡¯t have the cooperation of their government ¨C and that means facing their armies, as I''ve been saying all along!¡± ¡°It will if we don''t even try to get their cooperation.¡± Surin replied emphatically. ¡°We don¡¯t know that the larger Duergar Empire is even aware of this, or that their other vassals would stoop to similar tactics if pressed. I propose that we call a formal conclave at the Sacral Peaks to develop a unified strategy ¨C one that represents not just Beseri interests, but the entire former empire, and that binds us all to act as one according to our mandate. That would benefit you, if it came to war, would it not?¡± Hannis nodded begrudgingly, but Angjou scowled. ¡°You¡¯ll just drag everybody into a war that might not even affect us all! And that¡¯s assuming the kingdoms even agree to it. Hell, even king Renias might see this as a challenge to his authority ¨C threatening the ire of the gods to move his armies?! It''s barbaric!¡± Count Narald waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Unlikely. Besermark is the only country that has already been assaulted, and our third largest city lies in ruins. Any outside support, be it from the gods or from our sister kingdoms, would likely be welcome to his majesty. We are already at war. As the high priestess of Eyeli said, the Invigilation was never truly ended, and their mandate remains.¡± The high priestess of Balarian subsided, stymied by the lack of support, but then her eyes fell on Torvald. ¡°What about the Ruzinians? Are they prepared to support this? I can''t picture the pilgrims stopping their work to show up for a conclave.¡± Torvald sat up straight as all eyes turned to him, and he began to sweat uncomfortably. He looked past the count to the nobles and met his mother¡¯s eyes ¨C there was fear there. She shook her head at him urgently. But the answer burned in his heart even as the goddess whispered it in his ear, and he had to give it. ¡°The hands of the goddess will always appear where they are needed.¡± 3.7 Finding your Way ¡°Do you have any idea what you just agreed to?¡± Torvald¡¯s mother said, her voice tinged with exasperation. They were sitting in the rooms their family shared in the castle, where she¡¯d practically dragged him the moment the meeting ended. They were nicer than a Guard Commander¡¯s family could normally hope for, owing in no small part to the woman sitting in front of him. If she didn¡¯t hate politics and intrigue so much, his mother might have been running this city by virtue of her birth alone. ¡°I agreed to do whatever the Goddess demands.¡± Torvald said vaguely. Ruzinia had given him an answer, sure, but the exact meaning of it hadn''t been clearer to him than anyone else. Still, he knew whom he served. That was good enough for him. His mother scowled at him, but her tone was pleading. ¡°You have no idea what you¡¯re walking into ¨C you¡¯re getting the wrong sort of attention! It¡¯s bad enough that you became a paladin to Ruzinia and saved the city, now you¡¯re getting thrust into the middle of a multinational negotiation to reactivate the Invigilation! This is dangerous, Torvald.¡± ¡°The conclave?¡± Torvald frowned. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be more worried about the fighting if Noruk gets his way. I would have to go, you know.¡± ¡°Fighting? No,¡± she scoffed. ¡°Your father and I always knew you¡¯d be a fighter. You could never turn your back on a bully. That was fine, mostly. You know who your enemies are in a fight. I¡¯m talking about politics! The family barely knew you existed a few weeks ago, with your father being a commoner. Now, with this, they¡¯re going to take an interest. They¡¯re going to try to draw you into their games. They''ll want you as a tool.¡± ¡°Mom,¡± Torvald protested, ¡°it¡¯s fine! What can they even do? We''re not going to Teres, and I¡¯m a paladin. Everything will work out as long as I follow the will of Ruzinia.¡± ¡°Politicians don¡¯t respect the will of the gods!¡± she said seriously, leaning forward and meeting his eyes to lend weight to her words. ¡°They are manipulators, and they¡¯ll find a way to get what they want. They work with priests and paladins every day, and you have no idea what you¡¯re doing!¡± ¡°Of course I do!¡± Torvald retorted. he couldn''t help but feel annoyed at the accusation. ¡°I studied court and temple procedures during my schooling, and I got great marks! You¡¯re worrying over nothing.¡± ¡°Oh Valdy,¡± his mother said, shaking her head as she sat back. ¡°Listen to me. You learned what you might need to know as a guard commander or low-ranking priest. But you¡¯re going up against diplomats and noble courtiers with a lifetime of experience. The family, maybe Renias himself, will probably send a legitimator to handle you, since you¡¯ll be officially acting on behalf of the temple, not Besermark. Technically, you''re already considered a foreign agent.¡± Torvald blinked. ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m a Beseri citizen ¨C the king is my second cousin! I work for the government, and I don¡¯t need handling! What on earth is a legitimator?¡± ¡°This is exactly what I was talking about!¡± she replied, glaring at him. ¡°The Invigilation has its own rules and protocols. They¡¯re mostly ceremonial nowadays, but that doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re not important! The temples acted on their own across the entire former empire for centuries to fight warlocks and their demons and who knows what else. The temple of Noruk even had its own armies! Did you think the government would just let them march around the country without oversight?¡± Torvald shrugged, but didn¡¯t respond. He had thought that. Who would try to tell a god what to do? That was crazy! ¡°Priests who act in the name of the Invigilation have a special independent status, but that also comes with strings. You need a legitimator ¨C a government representative ¨C to accompany you on Beseri soil. They¡¯re required to report on your activities, advise you and ensure that you act in the best interests of the government. A legitimator who could manipulate their charge to pursue their quest in just the right way could reap enormous benefits for themselves or their families. You¡¯re at a huge disadvantage, because you don¡¯t know these people.¡± She rubbed at her face with both hands. ¡°One of the reasons I wanted to move here was to get away from all the intrigue and backstabbing. We made it, too! And now you¡¯re going to walk right back into it.¡± That¡­ well, that did sound dangerous. Torvald didn¡¯t want to play politics. That was part of the reason he¡¯d gravitated toward the worship of Ruzinia. Ruzinians didn¡¯t play games, they just went wherever the trouble was and intervened, no questions asked. He needed a way to nip this in the bud, to avoid playing the game, if he could. ¡°Can I influence who it is?" he asked. "Who chooses the legitimators?¡± ¡°Normally, the legitimators are selected by the King in Teres or the Duke of Norhold, since that¡¯s the usual port of entry for priests coming in from Madzhur. Count Narald has the right, in this case ¨C you¡¯re in his territory. The family might still send someone, though. They''re going to want to get involved.¡± Torvald frowned thoughtfully. ¡°What happens if I already have one? Will the king just overrule the count?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± his mother said uncertainly. ¡°Though doing that would be an insult to Narald, since it would imply that the count isn¡¯t acting in the best interest of the kingdom. Still, if Renias takes a personal interest¡­¡± ¡°Alright,¡± he said, subdued. ¡°What do I do?¡± ¡°The count could pick almost anyone, in theory. Like I said, it¡¯s seen mostly as a ceremonial, nowadays. Normally, the king liked to give these kinds of postings to relatives or favored servants as a way to honor them and give them an easy job. Mostly. When I was young, an Illurian priest of Balarian came to preach in Besermark and claimed his rights under the Invigilation. Grandpa Erivern appointed his youngest brother as a legitimator to punish him for embarrassing him in front of the Kallrixian ambassador a few weeks earlier.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. She chuckled darkly at the memory. ¡°Your great-uncle Olias hates traveling and religion, both. He had to follow a priest of Balarian all over the country for three years and listen to him preach about the dangers of demon-summoning. The old bastard deserved it, though. He¡¯s an insufferable drunk and a lecher. Anyway, it¡¯s not so complicated. You just need to get ahead of the politics on this. Your father can recommend someone reliable to the count for you who will watch your back and do the job properly. I can put a word in directly with the count tonight or tomorrow at the latest. He can¡¯t fault me for wanting someone reliable to watch over you. We just need to do it before the guilds get involved, or this is going to get a lot more complicated.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± mused Torvald, ¡°it can be just a regular guard? Do you think I can get one of my colleagues?¡± *** Uriah trudged along, just one more man in a seemingly endless line of ragged refugees heading east¡ªtoward Halfbridge. Far more people had made it out than he¡¯d originally expected. They said the Duergar had come up underneath them in the center of the city and set the entire place on fire in a matter of minutes. They hadn¡¯t bothered to chase the runners from the outskirts. Five days later, though, they were still looking over their shoulders. Yesterday, they¡¯d reached the headwaters of the Uvner watershed and now the road ran along a stream that Uriah knew would grow into a rushing river when it met up with another, larger stream a day¡¯s march from here. He could turn south and follow the river back to Halfbridge. Ed had wanted to fight those evil little shits. From what he¡¯d heard, the Underkeepers had fought them. No, they¡¯d crushed them. Rumor had it that they were even forcing Duergar prisoners to rebuild the parts of the city they¡¯d damaged. The military wouldn¡¯t take him as a war mage, not unless they were desperate. But Ed would. But... he¡¯d had a few days to think about it, now. He was tired, and he¡¯d seen far too much. If he followed that other stream north for a few days, he¡¯d reach a large farming town named Henfelden, where nobody had ever seen an actual demon, or heard tell of any strange gray-skinned dwarves. Well, they would have heard by now, but it was that sort of place. Pa was getting old now, and Sephus would be taking over the family business. He could go and help¡ªwater the fields and hire out to the neighbors. Hell, he knew more about moving manure around than your average farmer would ever bother to consider. It wasn¡¯t much, but it would be honest work. Soon, he would have to make a decision. *** Bernt flipped another pyromancy manual closed and placed it on the growing stack beside him before flipping open the next one, a bestiary describing the creatures of eastern Kallrix, near the southern border of the Phoenix Reaches. Today was his first day off since the battle, and it was his first opportunity to finally do some serious research. He¡¯d already been here for hours, but so far he hadn¡¯t found anything that looked like a solution. He¡¯d known that there were hundreds of different specific investiture materials out there for every specialization a mage might care to pursue. Still, it was different to actually read about them all. Fire-resistant ferns that grew near Gobford, burning venom from an exotic insect in Sehesh, a type of fog from Miria that gradually raised the ambient temperature according to the caster¡¯s will. There was even a type of mold that grew down in the Depths that would spontaneously ignite a few days after infecting a host, spreading highly infectious spores for miles around the victim. The only wizard mad enough to build an architecture that included it had been executed for war crimes, according to the footnote. When Bernt had arrived, he¡¯d asked Hallan about materials that might bridge the gap between his sorcerous investiture and his more traditional one, but the librarian had only shrugged. ¡°What does it even mean to have a sorcerous investiture? Why does it work at all? It¡¯s an academic blind spot. You¡¯re the one who¡¯s going to have to answer these questions.¡± Despite that unhelpful pronouncement, the librarian had taken to the problem with enthusiasm. He¡¯d pulled out every book and scrap of knowledge he knew of regarding pyromancy, as well as a few that described a variety of creatures with magical abilities. These were especially interesting ¨C monsters like wyverns or giant fire salamanders clearly had some kind of sorcerous abilities, so there had to be something to learn there. Unfortunately, it was clear that they used these to cast spells, just as he did. There were no materials to use there. The only somewhat promising entry featured a beautiful rendering of a roaring lion called a blazemane. If it had an actual burning mane, then maybe he could use that as an investiture material. But then what? Would he get permanently burning hair? That seemed like it would be worse than useless, even if it worked as a way to form an augmentation. Frustrated, he slammed the bestiary shut and sighed, tiredly. He didn¡¯t have to find some kind of perfect material. He could still do as Pollock had suggested and just use a normal one. If it didn¡¯t fuse into an augmentation, he would simply have to learn to develop the different portions of his mana network independently. Of course, that would present a new problem: learning how to grow his sorcerous investiture. That, and it would take even longer to become a real magister. The travelogue of Finnerixes contained a few hints, but he wasn¡¯t sure they would apply. The savage sorcerers of the Mirian interior didn¡¯t start out with a sorcerous mana network. They ate the hearts of fae creatures to ignite some kind of central point they called the Dan-Chin and then somehow guided its overflowing energies into creating a new network for them. Bernt¡¯s experience had been nothing like that, and he had no intention of eating an intelligent creature to get on the same page. If only Jori was here. He knew she consumed souls to achieve a similar effect as those sorcerers, but she could at least tell him what it was supposed to feel like. There hadn¡¯t been time to talk about it before the Solicitors had forced her to leave. Besides, he just missed her. She had a way of looking at the world that made everything seem a little brighter. The part of his mind that connected him to the imp was dull, barely giving him a sense of her existence. Still, that he had any connection left at all was a comfort. A connection. Bernt sat bolt upright, nearly dropping the book. How could he have been so stupid!? It had been right there the entire time. Setting the book down carefully, he rushed out of the small study room and to the front desk. ¡°Hallan, I¡¯ve got an idea! Do you have any texts about familiar bonds? Not the manual, I need theoretical analyses, maybe experimental notes if you have any.¡± Hallan looked up from the book he was reading at his desk with a quizzical expression. ¡°Bonds? Why?¡± Then his eyes lit up in understanding and he scowled. ¡°Dammit Bernt. No! It was a terrible idea at the academy, and it¡¯s still stupid now. You are not putting a familiar bond on an elemental. How would that even help?¡± 3.8 A Humble Request It was late by the time Bernt made it back to the Undercity ¨C the evening rush on the market was already well underway. He¡¯d managed to learn a few things, though he still wasn¡¯t sure about what to do about his next investiture. It was frustrating, but at least the day hadn¡¯t been a total loss. It had taken some fast talking, but he had eventually managed to convince Hallan that he wasn¡¯t going to attempt to bond an elemental. That settled, Hallan let him check out a copy of an ancient imperial researcher¡¯s treatise on familiar bonds, including notes and even a few variations on the usual bonding spell. Bernt had already taken a look at it back at the library, and he was sure he could figure out a way to temporarily strengthen the connection. Assuming that worked, he might finally be able to communicate with Jori again. It wasn¡¯t perfect, and it wasn¡¯t really a substitute for having her back, but he hated relying on the Solicitors for updates ¨C not least because they never actually told him anything. That was fine, he didn''t need them. Bernt wanted nothing more than to go straight home to work on it, but he still had another appointment to get to today. He and Nirlig had talked Torvald into meeting them after work today to update them on what he learned in his meeting with the count. Rumors had been running rampant around the city about the fall of Loamfurth, but nobody really knew anything concrete yet. The priestess in the break room last night had practically confirmed that it was Nuros and his Duergar, back for another round. His army had been defeated and Jori had literally burned him to ash, yet he managed to level another city less than two weeks later. Bernt tried to picture it, but he struggled to grasp the scale of the catastrophe, even having seen what happened here in Halfbridge. It was too big, too devastating to make sense of. What did it mean? Could the Duergar do the same to Walport, up on the northern coast? Did they have other armies sitting under Yetin¡¯s Harbor and Teres, waiting for their demonic general to appear? And would they come back here? He caught sight of his two coworkers sitting at a small table in front of an alehouse and waved as he joined them. Torvald wouldn¡¯t have answers to these questions, of course, but any news was welcome at a time like this. ¡°Hey, you made it!¡± Nirlig said cheerfully, raising his mug in greeting. Torvald nodded at him, his expression much more serious. Bernt waved to a goblin barman as he sat down and ordered a pint and something to eat. He¡¯d forgotten to get lunch, and his stomach growled hungrily at the smells that drifted out from the kitchen. ¡°Alright, he¡¯s here. Are you going to tell us what happened, now?¡± Nirlig asked Torvald impatiently. ¡°I¡¯ve got people in Loamfurth, you know. My cousin lives there!¡± ¡°Well, you better hope he got out,¡± Torvald said gravely. ¡°It sounds pretty much like the worst-case scenario. The city¡¯s been destroyed. My father told me the refugees should start reaching us in a few days, maybe two or three, depending on how quickly they¡¯re moving. That¡¯s not even what the meeting was about, though. Not really." He let out a slow breath, choosing his words. "They want to coordinate an international response to the Duergar ¨C the temples, I mean. They want to set up this big conclave at the Sacral Peaks to revive the Invigilation. I''m going.¡± Bernt frowned in confusion. ¡°Can they do that? I mean, don''t they just stand on street corners and preach about the dangers of summoning demons nowadays?¡± Torvald shrugged and nodded. ¡°Yeah. No one ever made them stop hunting rogue warlocks, the temples just stopped actively pursuing them after the Solicitors and their sister organizations in Madzhur and Kallrix were set up and began policing their own. Their mandate is totally intact across the entire continent, legally speaking. And right after the fall of the empire, the Invigilation did coordinate large-scale wars against powerful warlocks who tried to set up their own kingdoms, though they were just ¡°The Temples¡± back then. The pretentious name came later, when everything was codified in treaties ¨C ¡± ¡°Alright, yes, fine. We can do the history lesson later,¡± Nirlig interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°What happened at the meeting?¡± As Torvald recounted what he¡¯d heard, Bernt tried to grasp the implications of what he was saying. The Invigilation was trying to seize some kind of political power here, right? It had to be. If it actually worked, they might gain control of the combined military assets of multiple countries. Or influence, at least. That would change things ¨C everything, maybe. The gods didn¡¯t normally get involved in human politics like this. Bernt couldn''t begin to guess what this meant, but it probably wasn¡¯t good. Not for regular people who just wanted to mind their own business. On the other hand, Beseri cities were being burned down by a mad demon lord and his Duergar armies. The likes of general Arice and the wealthy nobles in Teres certainly weren¡¯t going to fix it. So, maybe they were just doing what was needed. Who was he to say? ¡°So, wait,¡± Nirlig said as Torvald finished his explanation. ¡°You''re saying you need an escort to go with you to the Sacral Peaks, and it just has to be someone who works for the government?¡± He grinned excitedly. ¡°Can I come? It sounds amazing ¨C I¡¯ve always wanted to travel!¡± Torvald gave a pained smile. ¡°Ah¡­ I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea. The count is ultimately the one who selects the legitimator. The temple district might¡­ uh¡­ take issue with him selecting a pagan. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to want that.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Nirlig¡¯s grin morphed into a bitter frown and he took a swig of his ale. ¡°A goblin, you mean.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Torvald confirmed. ¡°Not just that, but yeah. Sorry. It¡¯s politics.¡± He looked over at Bernt, meeting his eyes. ¡°Actually, I was going to ask you.¡± ¡°What?¡± Bernt choked on his ale in surprise and coughed. ¡°Torvald, are you crazy? Everybody thinks I¡¯m a warlock! If the count won¡¯t take Nirlig, what do you think they¡¯ll say about me?¡± Torvald waved Bernt¡¯s protests aside. ¡°They won¡¯t say anything. I don¡¯t think you realize what kind of backing you have. You¡¯re a member of the Mages¡¯ Guild, and pretty much everyone has heard about how you burned demons to cinders in the battle down here. Besides, no demon, no infernal powers, no warlock.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not how it works!¡± Bernt protested. ¡°Everybody knew about Jori, not to mention her killing the Duergar general!¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Torvald insisted. ¡°My mom always says individual facts aren¡¯t really that important, it¡¯s about your image. It¡¯s why she hates politics so much. But it¡¯s working in your favor in this case. Jori is very popular in this town right now, and she was fighting the bad guys. Hardly like a demon at all. You¡¯re not associated with any noble families and frankly, you¡¯re a local war hero. The count will give you the job if we nudge him in the right direction. Specifically, he will if my mother does the nudging.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, man,¡± Bernt said unenthusiastically. ¡°It¡¯s been a hard couple of months here and there¡¯s no telling how long I¡¯d be gone. Besides, I really need to work on my development as a wizard ¨C I¡¯m in a pretty difficult position right now.¡± He needed the guild library for his research, and Pollock¡¯s expertise to find the right way forward. Besides, what if Jori and Ed came back while he was gone? He wanted to be there for that. ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Nirlig blurted incredulously. ¡°What do you need more magic for? You burned hundreds of Duergar with a single spell. Listen to yourself! You could get paid to travel. Who wouldn¡¯t take that job?¡± Torvald leaned forward in his chair. ¡°I know it¡¯s a lot to ask, but think about it, please. We won¡¯t be out in the wilderness the whole time ¨C we¡¯d be traveling through a lot of towns and a few cities. Fergefield and Goldwater are big enough to have their own guild branches. Their libraries probably have texts you can¡¯t find here. After we¡¯re done at the Sacral Peaks, we could even visit Teres and check in on Josie!¡± That¡­ well, that didn¡¯t sound too bad. Put that way, it did sound crazy to refuse. A direct appointment from the count probably was probably well paid, too. Still, it was a big decision to make at the drop of a hat. He needed to think this through. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± Bernt allowed. Being able to visit the other guilds really might be worth it. Traveling clear across the country was expensive, and he doubted he was going to get a lot of opportunities to do it without losing his job, never mind getting paid for it. Besides, there was something else he¡¯d just remembered. The Sacral Peaks were right next to the Phoenix Reaches. *** When he got home, Bernt pulled the books he¡¯d checked out from the library out of his bag and stacked them on his stone desk, putting the one on familiar bonds to the side for later. One of these had a map in it, though he couldn¡¯t remember which one. He started flipping through them and got almost halfway through his stack before he remembered where he¡¯d seen it. Cursing himself, he rose and grabbed the oddly proportioned book on elemental summoning off his shelf. There, in the back cover was a map of the continent, with various confluence locations marked. The Phoenix Reaches were marked with an ignition rune and right there, in mountains directly on its northwestern edge, lay the Sacral Peaks. The holy site was famously inaccessible. It had to be, to serve as a refuge during the darkest days of the Madurian Empire. That wasn¡¯t what Bernt was interested in, though. What mattered was whether he could access the Phoenix Reaches from there. If he could, then he might be able to get his hands on exotic pyromancy materials, or even try his hand at elemental summoning. It should work. Idly, Bernt flipped backward through the book, going over the various types of elemental creatures. While summoned elementals were powerful, they all came with a serious drawback ¨C they couldn¡¯t be summoned from just anywhere, and they were difficult to control. They instinctively hated the chaotic energies of the material plane, and sought to return to the purity of their own element. Sooner or later ¨C usually sooner ¨C an elemental would slip its leash and return to its home plane. At least, that was what the book said. If he wanted to experiment on elementals, he needed to start small. Remembering one particularly boring entry, Bernt looked up the first elemental listed in the Fire section. Lesser Flame Sprite: The simplest type of fire elemental, this semi-sentient flame responds easily to the will of its summoner and can sustain itself through the combustion of mundane materials. While not very powerful, its simple upkeep makes it an ideal long-term tool for summoners operating far from an appropriate summoning location. It was made entirely of flame ¨C it didn¡¯t really have a body¡­ what would happen if he put one into a rune circle for analysis? What was it, really? Was it a spirit in the same sense as what goblin shamans interacted with, or was it more like a natural creature with its own mana network? Or was it more like a magical material in its own right? One that had gained its own rudimentary intelligence? Questions whirled in Bernt¡¯s head as he considered the possibilities, even as he realized that he¡¯d made a decision. Torvald hadn¡¯t been wrong about visiting other guild libraries, and he would need to talk to Pollock to clarify exactly what to focus on and what kinds of experiments to run. But regardless of the details, this was something he really couldn¡¯t ignore. He might never get another opportunity to access the Phoenix Reaches. Besides, traveling with Torvald could be good for him. Ruzinians didn¡¯t associate with rogue warlocks and evildoers ¨C they destroyed them. The paladin¡¯s renown was already spreading since his explosive first battle, and this conclave wouldn¡¯t exactly make people forget about him. Being Torvald¡¯s official legitimator could help him protect Jori by association, whenever they managed to get her home. He¡¯d wanted to do something to help, anything that didn¡¯t involve just sitting on his hands and hoping Josie saved the day with her legal battle in Teres. Well, here was something. It wasn¡¯t a solution in itself, of course, but it was a step in the right direction. 3.9 Taking Risks ¡°Really? You¡¯ll do it?¡± Torvald said, clearly excited. ¡°I¡¯ll accept if the count appoints me.¡± Bernt hedged. ¡°You said yourself that you can¡¯t just choose me.¡± ¡°Eh.¡± Torvald shrugged confidently, pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling something on it. ¡°My mom was born a princess. I mean, only technically¡ªshe was never really in the line of succession, but still. She grew up in the king¡¯s palace in Teres! Narald is going to listen to her. At least, as long as nobody else with more practical influence leans on him first.¡± Bernt had come to work early to do some reading in the break room ¨C it was more comfortable than his lackluster stone furniture at home ¨C but he¡¯d found the paladin already there and waiting for him. By the looks of it, he meant to send a message with Bernt¡¯s response up to the palace before work. That seemed a little odd. Was it really that urgent? With a friendly clap on his shoulder, Torvald hurried out the door to find a messenger, leaving Bernt in the nearly-deserted breakroom. Well, this was it. Sighing to himself, Bernt pulled out the book on familiar bonds and went to make himself a cup of tea. *** Asra allowed Narald¡¯s secretary announce her, but she didn¡¯t wait for his invitation to enter. It was important to maintain proprieties, but he was just a count. Seeing her enter, the secretary quietly sketched a bow and retreated. Narald sat at his desk across from his court mage, Iriala, who peered disapprovingly over her glasses at her. She looked for all the world like a grumpy old schoolteacher. Idly, Asra wondered if the woman had ever been one. Maybe she''d taught at the Mages¡¯ Academy. ¡°Your highness.¡± The count said smoothly, turning slightly in his seat to greet her. ¡°How may I be of service to you today?¡± She and Narald had always gotten along well. Almost, anyway. When she¡¯d first moved here with Righmond, the count had feared that she would attempt to usurp his position in Halfbridge. But he¡¯d calmed down after some reassurances, and he¡¯d even helped her manage some family drama a few years back when Righmond had gotten himself into hot water over some business down at the docks. ¡°I had a thought regarding the meeting yesterday, and I wanted to ask a favor of you,¡± she began. ¡°As I''m sure you''re aware, any priest acting on behalf of the Invigilation will need a legitimator appointed to accompany them, especially since they¡¯re planning to get involved in international politics...¡± Narald furrowed his brow. ¡°Ah¡­ and what, you want to act as the legitimator for your son? I thought you hated politics. Besides, I don¡¯t think I can even do that. You outrank me, technically.¡± ¡°No, no. Nothing like that.¡± Asra said with a polite laugh, shaking her head. ¡°I want to make sure my son is protected. That, and I don¡¯t want to see my relatives from Teres get their claws into him. You''ve met them, so I''m sure you understand. If you don¡¯t appoint someone soon, Renias will almost certainly send someone to shepherd the family¡¯s new ¡°rising star¡± for the benefit of the crown. He¡¯s barely grown into a man¡ªhe¡¯s not ready for that.¡± Narald¡¯s face grew conflicted, and he threw a glance at the archmage before looking back at her. ¡°There¡¯s not a lot I can do if the king takes a personal interest. You do realize that he can simply overrule my appointment, right?¡± ¡°He won¡¯t,¡± Asra said with more confidence than she felt. ¡°Halfbridge is all that still connects northern and southern Besermark. He won¡¯t want to offend you as long as your pick doesn¡¯t directly undermine him in some way. Your personal loyalty and goodwill is valuable coin to the crown right now.¡± The count considered that for a moment before nodding to himself. ¡°Makes sense. I suppose that you have somebody in mind?¡± Asra nodded firmly. ¡°I do. As I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware, Torvald has been working for the Underkeepers. One of his new friends from there¡ªa mage¡ªinvented a spell to burn demons. I hear that he distinguished himself in the battle in the Undercity, just as Torvald did. He seems like an appropriate choice, all things considered.¡± A soft, considering hum drew Asra¡¯s attention to the archmage, whose glasses briefly shone with a glint of iridescent light as she apparently started scrying or divining or whatever, right then and there! That hardly seemed appropriate, but Asra ignored her. Let her play her own games. The mage didn¡¯t really concern her. The Underkeeper boy had nothing to do with the king or the nobility, and that was good enough for her. If Torvald was happy, then all the better. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it.¡± Narald promised. ¡°Thank you.¡± Asra nodded graciously toward the count and swept out of the room. At least that was one problem taken care of. Righmond still wouldn¡¯t be happy¡ªhe¡¯d wanted to send one of his own people¡ªbut life was built on compromises. *** Narald gave Iriala a meaningful look as the door closed behind the retreating figure. ¡°That Underkeeper''s one of yours, isn¡¯t he?¡± he said. ¡°The one with the demon that killed Nuros.¡± The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°She killed Nuros¡¯ host.¡± Iriala corrected, giving up her divining attempts for the moment. As far as she could tell, the woman really was just looking out for her son. ¡°Nuros is probably back already. I¡¯d guess that he was the one behind the fall of Loamfurth. The Solicitors assure me that powerful demons are difficult to bind into a pact, and expensive to maintain. I seriously doubt that the Duergar have more than one.¡± ¡°I see,¡± the count said. ¡°And the Underkeeper?¡± ¡°He¡¯s a guild member,¡± she said. ¡°Still, he¡¯s more closely associated with the Underkeepers. I don¡¯t know that he¡¯s going to accept. He¡¯s loyal to archmage Thurdred and probably won¡¯t want to leave with him missing. If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d still like to get one of mine appointed. Maybe to Hannis. We can count on that old goat to be in the thick of things.¡± ¡°You would, wouldn''t you?¡± The count asked with a snort. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Iriala. I think one mage is enough. I have a balance to maintain here, and I can¡¯t afford to be seen playing favorites.¡± ¡°I suppose,¡± she allowed, frowning thoughtfully. The young Underkeeper wouldn¡¯t have been her first choice, but at least he was already as good as appointed. She needed someone on the ground to help her push things in the right direction. Ideally, it would be someone more reliable and sensible than Pollock¡¯s new protege, but at least the boy wasn¡¯t stupid. She¡¯d have to have a talk with him soon. At least he was already friends with the young Ruzinian paladin. Still, it would be a lot more convenient to have someone more experienced along. ¡°Have you thought about security?¡± she asked. ¡°Three of the temple representatives are priests, and legitimators aren¡¯t usually expected to protect their charges¡ªespecially if you¡¯re planning to send any of your courtiers.¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Narald said with a glint in his eye. He¡¯d guessed where she was going with this. ¡°The Adventurer¡¯s Guild has graciously offered us a discount. I already accepted.¡± Iriala frowned. How had Ambrose gotten to Narald ahead of her? She really was going to have to rely on the Underkeeper boy. ¡°How long do we have till they leave?¡± she asked, trying to decide on her next steps. She had a lot of work ahead of her if Bernt was going to be ready. *** ¡°Here are the citations for today.¡± Bernt said, putting a small stack of papers on Fiora¡¯s desk. She¡¯d sent him to inspect a handful of businesses in the Crafters¡¯ Quarter and review their waste disposal procedures. ¡°A dwarven smelting facility and a dyer in the Crafting Quarter are both dumping toxic waste into the septic system.¡± Fiora grunted as she flipped through the citations. ¡°Did they give you trouble?¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°No, not really¡ªthey just played dumb. I explained that they were going to contaminate their own food supply with the mushroom farm and that seemed to get through to them. I don¡¯t think they¡¯re going to be a problem.¡± ¡°Good, thanks.¡± Fiora said, and then looked up to meet his eyes. ¡°Listen, Ed was doing his best to keep you off of inspection duties like this. We¡¯ll get some of the others trained up on the waste management procedures here soon. I know you¡¯ve had¡­ a bad experience, but the backlog is pretty extreme, and we¡¯re short staffed. ¡°Fiora, it¡¯s fine,¡± Bernt said, feeling a bit embarrassed. He¡¯d known that Ed avoided sending him to any alchemists, but he hadn¡¯t realized that they were making accommodations for him to this degree. ¡°It¡¯s my job. I can do whatever you need.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s what I wanted to talk to you about.¡± Fiora said, leaning back. ¡°I got a request from Archmage Iriala about an hour ago. She wants me to loan you out to the Mages¡¯ Guild for a few weeks. In exchange, she¡¯s offering to put a word in with the magistrate to get City Maintenance to start sharing the load down here. It¡¯s technically their job already, but you know how they are¡­¡± Bernt nodded, considering. What she wasn¡¯t saying was that she needed their engineers a lot more than a single pyromancer when it came to getting all of the new facilities that were being built down here up to code. ¡°So, you¡¯re giving me a choice?¡± he asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°More of an explanation.¡± Fiora replied with an apologetic smile. ¡°We haven¡¯t even finished with the Crafters¡¯ Quarter, and it¡¯s about to get a lot worse. The crafters that came down from the surface after the battle are setting up in the new Refugee Quarter, and all of them will need inspections soon as well. The people at City Maintenance have their hands full supporting the reconstruction of city infrastructure in the Lower and Crafters¡¯ Districts.¡± Fiora sighed tiredly and her face fell into a scowl that suddenly reminded Bernt of Ed. ¡°They¡¯ve been arguing that the Undercity is our responsibility first. The magistrate hasn¡¯t done anything to discourage that attitude. I stopped sewer maintenance on the surface in protest, but everyone with any solid leverage is up there. They won¡¯t really feel the effects for a few weeks.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± Bernt said. ¡°I don¡¯t mind. I¡¯ve been meaning to carve out some time to research up at the guild anyway. It¡¯ll be easier if I¡¯m already in the building.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Fiora said inquisitively. ¡°What are you working on?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a couple of things¡­¡± Bernt said evasively and then held up his right arm, letting the sleeve fall back to reveal the glowing patterns on his lower arm. ¡°I need to work out what kind of investiture to get next that might actually form an augmentation. That and a couple of other ideas¡­¡± He didn¡¯t want to talk to anyone about his familiar bond right now. Nobody was aware that it was still working, or even that it had survived Jori¡¯s deportation. Except¡­ he¡¯d mentioned it to Josie. But she was gone. Nobody in Halfbridge would know, unless Radast had been spying on him. He had been seeing shadows in the corner of his eye lately. But that was most likely just paranoia. It might be a valuable secret to keep for now. Fiora nodded, pursing her lips as she examined his arm. ¡°It¡¯s interesting, you know. I knew a few people who burned out their mana networks when I was in the army. Not totally, mind you, but enough to retire. It¡¯s hard on them.¡± She looked up to meet his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate your accomplishment, you hear? Even if it stunts your growth, you¡¯re already going to help a lot of people. That counts for something.¡± ¡°Wait.¡± Bernt shook his head in confusion. ¡°What do you mean? Pollock told me that nobody was using my hellfire derivative. We don¡¯t really know anything about what happens if a mage attempts further investitures afterward. It¡¯s not safe yet.¡± The older mage huffed a laugh and offered him a sardonic grin. ¡°No, no. The guild hasn¡¯t endorsed it, and it isn¡¯t administering your procedure to injured veterans in a controlled environment in exchange for a fee. That doesn¡¯t mean nobody is doing it. These are people who burned their spirits to protect their fellow soldiers and themselves. To win battles. You know what it feels like to do that to yourself. It doesn¡¯t just happen by accident. Do you think people like that are going to wait for a recommendation from the guild when there¡¯s a war on? Did you?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Bernt said, swallowing. He didn¡¯t know how to feel about that. It felt good to know that other people valued his work. On the other hand, he wasn¡¯t going to get paid anything for mages who tried to replicate his sorcerous investiture on their own. Not to mention what might happen if they didn¡¯t adequately replicate his hellfire derivative. 3.10 Run, Hide, or Fight Bernt squared his shoulders and knocked on Iriala¡¯s office door, doing his best to appear calm and confident. He didn¡¯t need to be nervous¡ªthe archmage had asked for him specifically, and she¡¯d traded her influence to get him here. That should have reassured him, but he still couldn¡¯t quite keep himself from nervously sweating into his clothes. What could she want him for? No one answered. What was going on? The guild was nearly deserted and almost eerily quiet¡ªhis instructions had said to appear before dawn. Except the archmage wasn¡¯t here. After waiting a few more awkward seconds, Bernt knocked again, a little more firmly this time. Again, nothing. ¡°Wizard Bernard!¡± A voice called out the same moment that he heard steps, behind him and to his left. He flinched, startled by the sudden sound, and whirled to see the archmage by the stairs on the landing. She waved to him, already turning back the way she¡¯d come. ¡°Come this way, please.¡± Hurrying to catch up, Bernt caught Archmage Iriala halfway up the stairs to the next floor. ¡°Good morning, Archmage,¡± he said, trying not to sound out of breath. ¡°Where are we going?¡± ¡°Your office,¡± she replied. ¡°Are you familiar with the historical significance of the Invigilation, Bernt?¡± Bernt missed a step, nearly stumbling on the stairs before catching himself. What was all this about? He hesitated for a second, trying to decide what to say, but there was no point in pretending ignorance. ¡°Yes, Archmage,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯re the adherents to the four temples of the Sacral Peaks who were responsible for controlling warlock activity in the former Empire before the Solicitors came along.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± the archmage said, sounding a little surprised. ¡°That''s good. I don¡¯t know what you might have heard, but the temples are attempting to coordinate a continent-wide response to the Duergar threat. In resuming this kind of political role, though, they¡¯ve also made some other, mostly symbolic traditions relevant again¡ª¡± ¡°The legitimators,¡± interrupted Bernt as they reached the upper floor of the Mages¡¯ Guild. ¡°I¡¯m familiar with them. I work with a paladin ¨C he¡¯s been telling me about it.¡± ¡°Ah, he already caught you up,¡± Iriala said, giving him a sharp look that suggested she understood quite a bit more than he¡¯d meant to say. ¡°So it wasn¡¯t just his mother¡¯s idea ¨C I should have guessed.¡± Bernt blinked, surprised. News traveled fast. ¡°Torvald asked me if I¡¯d come with him, I just said I¡¯d go if the count appointed me,¡± Bernt said carefully. ¡°What does that have to do with the guild?¡± Iriala harrumphed. ¡°Everything, boy. Those who do not work to shape the future risk being shaped by a future they had no control over. Remember that, if you ever plan to get involved in games of power. The temples are calling this conclave to make decisions about our entire country, and our neighbors, too. They need the king¡¯s cooperation and consent, but nobody¡¯s going to ask us for our opinion here at the guild. That¡¯s not acceptable to us any more than it will be to any of the other guilds or other interests in our country. We don¡¯t know where all the representatives at this conclave will come from, or how many there are. You might be the only Beseri mage there, for all I know.¡± Bernt swallowed as Iriala led them down the Wizard¡¯s Society corridor, sweeping by offices and laboratories with a purposeful stride. She wanted him to¡­ what? Wrangle the conclave into doing her bidding? That sounded a lot more ambitious than what he¡¯d had in mind. For that matter, it raised an entirely different question. ¡°Do you know why they''re even doing the conclave in the first place? I mean, why go have a meeting at the Sacral Peaks? Can¡¯t the gods negotiate amongst themselves to come up with an agenda for the Invigilation? I imagine that all the kings and the Kallrixian Council would be more willing to work with something like that, too.¡± Iriala looked over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised. ¡°It''s not that simple, no. You should read up on the topic a bit before the time comes. I know most mages aren¡¯t very religious, but this is going to become very relevant to you, soon.¡± "Okay. So why have the conclave?" The archmage stopped in front of a plain wooden door and fumbled through a ring of keys before thrusting one into the lock. ¡°The gods don¡¯t like to interfere with our political affairs directly ¨C which isn¡¯t the same thing as saying they don¡¯t get involved. It¡¯s an agreement they made to end the Age of Barbarism and allow civilization to develop without one of their own crushing it every few years to spite whichever god sponsored them.¡± The hinges squealed as she opened the door. ¡°Here we are. This is going to be your office.¡± It was a small room with a desk, a single chair and a bookshelf. There was no dust ¨C someone had cleaned the place recently ¨C and a small stack of books sat on the desk alongside a dwarven steel pen, ink and a stack of paper. Bernt entered, taking it in. It was a bit stark, but not more than his own house. Reaching up, Bernt hung a perpetual torch spell in the air up beside the door. It gave the mostly empty room a cozier air. Much better. ¡°Thank you, archmage,¡± he said, walking up to the desk. Leaning down, he sorted through the books, checking the covers. They were primers on the four temples involved in the Invigilation, a history book about the fall of the Madurian Empire, a book about temple protocols and rituals, and another on Beseri diplomatic protocol. ¡°You want me to study these?¡± he asked. Bernt could guess what was going on here, but it was always best to get clear instructions. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Iriala confirmed. ¡°Ideally, you¡¯d spend a few years learning how to think strategically about our place in the world, both the Mages¡¯ Guild and Besermark. We don¡¯t have that kind of time, though, so I¡¯ll just need to prepare you as best I can. There¡¯s an intelligence report about the Duergar at the bottom of the stack. Pollock tells me you respond well to open-ended inquiry, so see if you can work out what our interests are in this matter, and how you think you might be able to address them at the conclave.¡± Bernt looked from the books to the archmage. This was all getting out of hand very quickly. Torvald had asked him to do this to keep him out of all the political games ¨C or at least to protect him from his family. Hells, Bernt had just wanted to do his experiments in the Phoenix Reaches. On the other hand, though, the opportunity here was obvious. He¡¯d be an idiot not to take it. Besides, at the end of the day, nobody could force him to do anything at the conclave. ¡°Thanks," he said, clearing his throat. "I¡¯ll get right on it. How long do I have? Torvald didn¡¯t say when we¡¯d actually be leaving.¡± ¡°The temples all across the Empire and at the Sacral Peaks have to decide on a date for the conclave. My scryers and the those at all the other guilds across the continent are working with them to establish a reliable communication network, but it¡¯ll still take some time. You¡¯ll have at least a few weeks.¡± Iriala said and swept out the door. ¡°Start with the history book!¡± When he couldn¡¯t hear her steps anymore, Bernt opened his bag and pulled out all of his other books ¨C those he¡¯d checked out from the library. He hadn¡¯t expected Iriala to give him an office up here at the Wizard¡¯s Society, but the proximity that gave him to Pollock would be a huge benefit. Honestly, it was better than he could have hoped for. On the other hand, there was a lot to go through here. He would have to manage his time carefully if he was going to be ready in time. *** Ed reached up and gingerly felt at the burns on his scalp. It was healing well enough, but it still hurt like hell. Jori was up ahead, standing on a rock and sticking her nose up into the air, sniffing for something or other. ¡°Damned demons and their stupid fire rivers,¡± he grumbled, digging through his pouch for something to eat. They¡¯d been trudging through the rocky landscape for who knew how long, hiding from passing demons and sleeping when they got tired. There was no day or night here and the lack of a proper way to track time was beginning to grate on him. ¡°Hey!¡± Jori protested. ¡°I warned you that you weren¡¯t going to like it!¡± He grunted in reply. The damned imp had dragged him down some kind of heating shaft to a massive tunnel that ran under the city. Instead of carrying sewage or water, though, this one carried hellfire. Ed knew that the river terminated in the city somewhere, but he hadn¡¯t really considered what happened to it. Now, though, he was absolutely certain that he didn¡¯t want to know. The thing had a narrow walkway along the side, but he¡¯d still had to maintain a mobile heat barrier around himself the entire way. Casting a simple, stationary barrier was easy ¨C even a spherical one to cover him from all directions. Moving while maintaining the spell, though, was an entirely different proposition. It was a lot, even for him, and he¡¯d slipped up ¨C accidentally letting the top of his head poke out beyond its edges. The burns had been instantaneous, and he¡¯d nearly lost control of the spell entirely. They¡¯d made it out, and Jori had led him away from the city and up out of the valley where it lay. She¡¯d been nothing but friendly since, but Ed knew she wasn¡¯t telling him everything. She wanted something in exchange for her help. Iriala¡¯s initial note, stashed in the pouch along with the food, had said as much. He would humor Jori, he''d decided ¨C you couldn¡¯t expect altruism from most people, never mind a demon. It would be like expecting a dwarf to fly. Besides, she was his only contact to the mortal world, and according to the note, his only real chance of getting back home. That, and she had given him the food without asking for anything. She''d earned some goodwill. The imp had disappeared several times since they¡¯d escaped the city, only to reappear a few minutes later ¨C summoned by solicitors who wanted updates, she¡¯d said. Sometimes she came back carrying more food or a message from either Iriala or Radast. Iriala sent him news from outside, but the warlock mostly just wanted to know what it was like here. Damned asshole had better hope he didn¡¯t give him a taste when he got back. Waving at the imp to signal that he was taking a break, Ed found a rock to sit on and conjured himself some water. ¡°So, Jori. What¡¯s your game in all this?¡± Ed asked as she joined him. He¡¯d been waiting for her to spill it, but she¡¯d been content just to lead them off in what looked to him like a random direction. Jori grinned at him, displaying pointed teeth. ¡°We¡¯re going to save my pack!¡± Then she produced a bit of jerky from her Underkeeper''s robes, which she''d recovered after their escape, and began gnawing on it. Ed scratched at his stubbly beard and scowled at her. ¡°Well this is going to be a fine mess,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Save them how? Where? And what do you mean to do with a pack of imps when you¡¯ve got them?¡± ¡°That way,¡± Jori said, pointing the way they''d been going. ¡°We have to find a fiend named Tallash. I can smell him. His blood stinks. He bound the pack to himself years ago. It¡¯s how I got separated, before I was summoned for the first time. I hid away from them and he didn¡¯t find me. I¡¯m very sneaky!¡± Ed let out a slow, tired breath. ¡°And your pack... they''re going to be wherever he is?¡± Jori snorted. ¡°Some of them, maybe. That¡¯s not the point, though. We need to kill him to break my cousins¡¯ obligation to our enemies. Tallash is bound to Zijeregh, a servant of Nuros. They won¡¯t betray their master on their own ¨C it would be an insult to their master¡¯s master. Very dangerous. Bad things happen to traitors. But, if the chain of obligation is broken, they aren¡¯t traitors. They would be free to follow us. It¡¯s how things are done, here.¡± Ed squinted at her in confusion. ¡°How do you know all their names?¡± Did demons intuitively know the entire chain of command of other demons they met? How would something like that even work? ¡°I asked!¡± Jori replied, as if it were obvious. The archmage shook his head, irritated. He didn¡¯t have the patience to weasel every little thing out of her. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s your plan? Can you take this fiend in a fight?¡± The imp shook her head firmly. ¡°No! Fiends eat weaker demons ¨C especially imps. They are predators. They don¡¯t burn, and they''re much stronger than us.¡± Ed grunted, and dug around in the little pocket in his sleeve for a pinch of tobacco. He packed it into his pipe, thinking. ¡°So, you want me to kill it for you so this fiend doesn¡¯t eat them all, probably. Does that mean all those mean little baby imps are gonna get attached to me? I don¡¯t know that I need a passel of little demons following me around. Especially not back home, if I¡¯m guessing where this is going.¡± ¡°No.¡± Jori said firmly. ¡°They will be free!¡± Ed scoffed. ¡°Down here? Free to follow us around, or get picked up by the next bigger, meaner demon that finds them, you mean.¡± Jori grinned, and Ed could see the fire burning behind her eyes. ¡°Free to run from the Great Ones, to hide, or to fight!¡± 3.11 Lessons Bernt¡¯s knees ached as he triple-checked the chalk markings on the stone behind his desk. It was already late in the evening ¨C he''d spent most of the day poring over Iriala''s history book. From the reading material alone, he could already tell that Iriala was going to be a difficult task master. The book provided an accounting of many disparate events that felt disconnected, though Bernt was sure that wasn''t the case. The text casually referred to other events, rulers, sects and traditions that he''d never heard of. The stupid book was written for scholars, not someone like him. He didn''t have the proper context to understand the larger picture that the book was trying to convey. It was frustrating, and he couldn''t help but feel like Iriala had told him to start there on purpose. She was probably trying to nudge him into doing his own additional research at the library. That, or she just wanted to put him in his place. Tomorrow, he''d try some of the other books ¨C maybe they''d make more sense. But there was no way he¡¯d go home to sleep before he tested this. The rune circle in front of him wasn¡¯t his own design ¨C he¡¯d copied it from a book ¨C but that didn¡¯t mean he could afford to be sloppy. Familiar bonds didn¡¯t create a direct connection between the caster and the familiar the way most people imagined. There was no mutual mind-linking or control spell at work, no magical tether. Conceptually, they were much simpler than that. Souls were loud, magically speaking. They sent echoes of themselves vibrating through the ambient mana all around. Familiar bonds took advantage of that by keying the spirit of the caster to resonate with that of the intended familiar. From there, the link was mutual and entirely passive. Both would, to an extent, feel and sense the same things as their familiar, though obviously much less intensely. In the mortal world, the intensity of the transmission was largely dependent on proximity. In the hells¡­ well, the fact that Bernt could still sense Jori at all was dumbfounding. He had no idea what to make of it, but at least it was working in his favor, for now. He had a connection, so he didn¡¯t need to understand everything to make it work for him. The circle in front of him was designed to read the resonant frequency of his own spirit, and then to collect and amplify all similar frequencies back at him. To try it, though, he had to get into the circle and open his spirit to influence from the circle. Even relatively simple rune circles weren¡¯t toys ¨C if he¡¯d messed up any of the markings, all kinds of terrible things could happen to him. Hence, why he was triple checking the entire thing. He should have gone to visit Therion and told him about the bond. Doing this alone was stupid. Besides, the other mage had a broader education than Bernt did and might have some valuable input. But¡­ he didn¡¯t want to wait anymore. And the circle was perfect, he was sure of it. Taking a deep breath Bernt stepped forward into the circle and closed his eyes, concentrating on his connection to Jori. Rushing water filled his senses. Not real water, of course ¨C it was the bond as it filled his mind with unintelligible noise. It was louder, for lack of a better description, but no clearer than before. He still couldn¡¯t discern anything specific from it ¨C just that Jori was alive and feeling something that might have been a sense of satisfaction. Even that, though, was more of an intuitive guess than anything else. It was too¡­ fuzzy. Letting out a breath, Bernt stepped out of the circle again. It sort of worked, in the sense that it amplified the bond, but it didn¡¯t do anything to clarify what he was getting from it. He would have to try something else. That meant the time for guesswork was over. He needed to talk to someone who knew more about familiar bonds ¨C and probably planar theory. Someone who wasn¡¯t a warlock. Only one name came to mind, but could he trust him with this? He¡¯d have to think about it. *** Bernt spent the next morning skimming through the primers on the four gods who sponsored the Invigilation. He¡¯d never bothered much with religion, outside the occasional offering at the Temple of Aedina before a big test day at the Academy. It was traditional for students to bring the goddess of knowledge and learning symbols of their ignorance, followed later with proof of their intellectual growth. Idly, Bernt wondered if he should submit a copy of his banefire spell to the temple. He might get a minor blessing out of it. But it wouldn¡¯t work if he went there to procrastinate having to read all this crap. Of course, Bernt already knew who the major gods were ¨C at least those worshiped by humans. But that didn¡¯t mean he¡¯d bothered to study theology or to memorize all their ancient mythology. Gods were extremely dangerous and sometimes capricious, but none of them would go after a normal person who was just minding their own business. That had always suited Bernt just fine. The texts were easier to follow than the history text the day before, but they were terribly dry, plainly explaining the role of each god and their relationships to all the other gods, various peoples, places and even abstract concepts. Balarian, for example, was the patron of trade and the winds, and was most highly honored in Illuria. The text went on and on about the use of his priests on trading vessels in the Illurian Sea, his island temples, and a string of wars against the merpeople where he was supposed to have played a pivotal role. Noruk was most closely associated with Madzhur and Eyeli with Besermark, and by the sound of it, each of them had spawned enough history and lore to fill a library on their own. The only thing that truly surprised Bernt was that Kallrix, despite being a maritime power like Illuria, apparently revered Ruzinia above all others. She was a young goddess, relatively speaking, only dating back to the early Imperial Age, where she apparently opposed the spread of human civilization ¨C at least, according to imperial records. The early Madurian Empire had pressed ever southward from Mahat¡¯Ur, driving orcs, humans and trolls down into the coastal lowlands that had, until that point, been occupied by small warring tribes of seafaring goblins. That should have resulted in another chaotic war, but against all expectations, the goblins didn¡¯t fight. They welcomed the foreigners with open arms, citing the will of their ¡°great spirit¡±, which they called Rixin. According to the temple itself, this was the first direct written reference to Ruzinia. The result was the first Kallrixian Republic, which would go on to resist Madurian expansion for over a century before its fall. Once it did, worship of the goddess spread throughout the empire, carried on a tide of desperate refugees as they fled from their ravaged homeland. Ruzinia was considered a minor goddess, despite her reputation for raising great heroes in times of need ¨C Bernt had never considered that she might be a bigger deal elsewhere. More surprisingly, though, this implied something potentially curious about the natural spirits that goblins worshiped. Were they all just minor deities of some kind? If that was true, where was the line between a shaman and a priest? The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The priests he knew of mostly treated goblins and other shamanistic peoples as lesser heathens. But what was the difference, really? And why did no one ever talk about it? Bernt couldn¡¯t imagine that the temples themselves wouldn¡¯t have the answer. He would have to ask Torvald about it when he got a chance. Closing the book, Bernt got up and began to make his way down the hallway to the stairs. He was starving and it was well past lunch time. But first, he had another stop to make. He needed help, and he wasn¡¯t going to get anywhere if he didn¡¯t take any risks. It was time to talk to Hallan. *** The librarian who opened the door was not Hallan, but rather an older woman who looked pointedly down her nose at him with narrowed eyes when she opened the door. Also unlike his former classmate, she asked him to ¡°sign in¡± using a broad, runed cylinder of some kind, which he had to submit a sample of his mana to. Bernt carefully made sure to use his left hand, so as not to destroy the heavily enchanted object. Nothing happened, and the woman looked at him with a sour face. ¡°All set.¡± she said curtly. ¡°Might I help you find something?¡± Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°Yes, actually. Do you know where I can find Hallan?¡± She grunted and waved him off. ¡°Try the medical texts. He was giving a consultation the last I saw.¡± Bernt made his way down the stacks, looking for the appropriate section. They weren¡¯t clearly labeled as far as Bernt could see. Instead, each row was marked with a number, and smaller sections in each row were marked with runes. He assumed there was more to their organizational system, but from what he could see it was all very unclear. Fortunately, he wasn¡¯t looking for a book, so he just glanced down each row as he went. He¡¯d almost made it to the tablet library when he finally found someone ¨C but it wasn¡¯t Hallan. Therion held a small stack of books in one arm as he awkwardly flipped through the one on top. He looked up at Bernt¡¯s approach and nodded a greeting. ¡°Hey Bernt! Doing some reading?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Bernt replied, ¡°something like that. How¡¯s your dad?¡± He''d been meaning to go and check on Therion again since the battle, but he hadn''t had time. He felt a little guilty for it now. ¡°Better," Terion said. "He¡¯s eating on his own, but he still won¡¯t talk. I¡¯m looking for possible therapies that might help. There¡¯s really a lot more here than I expected.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great! Good to hear. I didn¡¯t realize they even had that kind of information here.¡± Bernt looked at the books around him. A treatise on chronic fatigue, a text on the causes of hallucinations, an exhaustive compilation of spells for first aid ¨C all medical texts. ¡°I hope he¡¯s back on his feet soon. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild is probably lost without him.¡± Therion chuckled half-heartedly. ¡°Probably. The Rangers certainly aren¡¯t the same. A few of them come to check on him every couple of days.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good, I¡¯m sure seeing people he knows has got to help.¡± Bernt paused awkwardly, unsure of what to say. ¡°Uh, I actually came looking for Hallan. Did you know he works here? The librarian up front told me he was doing a consultation in the medical section.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± Therion said, sounding relieved at the change of topic. ¡°He¡¯s helped me out a few times. I don¡¯t know where he wandered off to, but he¡¯ll be around here somewhere. What do you need him for?¡± Just as he asked, Bernt caught sight of the librarian as he turned down the stack and headed toward them. He waved when he saw them and grinned. ¡°Bernt! What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°I wanted to see if you know anything about planar theory,¡± Bernt said, deciding not to dance around the issue. ¡°It¡¯s about that thing with the familiar bonds I was looking into.¡± Hallan stared at him, suddenly looking alarmed. ¡°You didn¡¯t! No, no you couldn¡¯t. What¡¯s going on? You better not be doing what it sounds like you¡¯re doing!¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m not trying to summon and bond an elemental.¡± Bernt said patiently. ¡°I already have a familiar, and she¡¯s trapped on another plane, but the bond didn¡¯t break.¡± ¡°She? Okay, so, not an elemental, then.¡± Hallan threw a glance at Therion, who gave him mischievous grin that reminded Bernt eerily of his father, Garius. He looked back at Bernt suspiciously. ¡°What plane?¡± *** ¡°You bonded a demon?¡± Hallan said incredulously. Bernt had pulled his friends off into one of the small reading rooms, away from potential prying ears, explaining to Hallan about Jori as he went. ¡°Are you completely insane?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine!¡± Bernt protested, trying not to sound too defensive. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t know what all the fuss is about. She¡¯s more intelligent than an animal, friendly, and she can throw balls of fire. What¡¯s not to like?¡± ¡°Maybe that linking your mind to a demon could easily drive you insane in minutes?¡± Hallan hissed. ¡°Do you have any idea how alien an extraplanar entity¡¯s mind can be?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Therion interjected. ¡°I thought she was nice. She really saved our asses in the dungeon. Besides, she¡¯s a hero! Haven¡¯t you heard?¡± Hallan¡¯s mouth dropped open a bit, and his gaze flicked from Therion back to Bernt. They could practically see the gears turn in Hallan¡¯s brain as he realized exactly which demon they were talking about. ¡°Look, I know demons are dangerous.¡± Bernt explained. ¡°But Jori¡­ well, she was pretty much like a cat when I found her. Or, what I imagine a cat¡¯s mind would be like. I imagine it helps to bond them early. The point is, I want to reestablish communication with her. She¡¯s trapped in the hells, and she¡¯s pretty much reliant on the Solicitors for all outside contact. I don¡¯t like that, and I think I should be able to fix it at least that last bit, assuming that I can figure out exactly what the problem is.¡± ¡°Wait, hold on.¡± Hallan said, holding up both hands. ¡°Doesn¡¯t this make you a warlock, at least in every practical sense? How are you even a guild member? And wouldn¡¯t the Solicitors take issue with something like this?¡± ¡°I have an arrangement with all the relevant parties. You¡¯re welcome to ask archmage Iriala about it. I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d leave out the part about the familiar bond still working, though. I¡¯d like to keep that quiet if I can. I definitely don¡¯t want it getting back to the Solicitors, assuming they don¡¯t already know.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ it is strange that it¡¯s still working.¡± Hallan conceded, scratching at his head. ¡°Familiar bonds are spatial, but you¡¯re not in the same space. At least not in the conventional sense of the word. There shouldn¡¯t really be any way for you to still sense her.¡± And just like that, Bernt knew he¡¯d won him over. He¡¯d piqued the librarian¡¯s curiosity, and he knew the man well enough to know he would have to scratch that itch. ¡°I tried simple amplification, and that doesn¡¯t work. I need to figure out how the connection is reaching me in the mortal world. I know how the elemental planes connect, but I think the hells are fundamentally different. There aren¡¯t any hell confluences, so what is the connection?¡± Hallan gave him a strange look, but it was Therion who answered. ¡°Souls transit freely into the hells, right? Do you really need a tangible connection for that? I mean, familiar bonds are transmitted through ambient mana. As long as there¡¯s mana between here and where Jori is, your connection should work, right?¡± Bernt blinked. That was a good point. ¡°So¡­ the better question might be why it¡¯s so constant, now. The connection doesn¡¯t get weaker depending on where I go anymore, and it¡¯s still pretty strong ¨C just very indistinct.¡± Bernt paused and fixed his gaze on Hallan. ¡°Want to help me figure it out?¡± Hallan looked conflicted for a moment and made a frustrated noise, but then he nodded. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll help. But you owe me for this. Honestly ¨C bonding a demon!¡± 3.12 Give Me Your Tired Bernt pulled an icy hand from where he''d been warming them in his sleeves to wave to Palina as he entered the tunnel down to the Undercity, dodging oncoming traffic to skirt around a group of weary-looking people who were slowly shuffling down the passage. Snow hadn¡¯t fallen yet, but it was clear that winter had arrived. He wished he¡¯d remembered to bring a scarf and mittens, but they were still in his chest at home. The Undercity was always temperate, which made it a more difficult to dress appropriately for the weather on the surface. He¡¯d made it mostly past the group when he realized they weren¡¯t from here. No, these were orcs. Unusually smelly orcs, for that matter. They were wet and dressed poorly for the chilly winter weather. One was barefoot, and several others had gaping holes in their shoes. One held a small child on his arm, trying to keep the ragged remains of his coat wrapped over it. They were refugees from Loamfurth. Probably some of the first ¨C those who were healthy and strong, but traveling light. If those who followed were as badly prepared as these people, they were going to see cases of frostbite before long. Fiora and the other Underkeepers would have their hands full tonight. Making a decision, Bernt hurried down the tunnel, making for the Underkeepers¡¯ Complex. A shift change was coming up in a few minutes, but he expected a lot of people would have to stay to deal with the incoming refugees. He could help. He¡¯d just been sitting around all day, after all, and he wasn¡¯t really ready to go home to his empty house just yet. Maybe he could catch up with Nirlig and Torvald. Torvald, at least, deserved to know what was going on with his new assignment at the Mages¡¯ Guild. Sure, he would do as Iriala asked, but that didn¡¯t mean he had to lie about it to his friends. Besides, he''d barely talked to anyone outside of the Mages'' Guild in days. That just wasn''t any way to live. Bernt was pulled from his thoughts as he exited the tunnel and found a knot of uncertain-looking people already starting to form just inside the Undercity Market ¨C mostly boys and young men who had probably been sent ahead by their slower-moving families. They were probably trying to find the best accomodations or paid work before the main body of refugees got here. He adjusted his course and approached them. ¡°Excuse me!¡± Bernt called out, using his best imitation of the late Glim to project a sense of authority. ¡°If you¡¯re new here, you¡¯ll need to register at the Underkeeper¡¯s headquarters to be granted temporary housing ¨C middle of the cavern on your right. Over that way.¡± About half of them turned his way, and a few nodded or grunted in acknowledgement. Others, too exhausted to pay attention, just sat listlessly against the walls and stared at nothing. Bernt took a breath, about to start shaking people awake and directing them individually, when a short, stocky man pushed his way out of the crowd, craning his neck to get a look at him. ¡°Bernt! Is that you over there?¡± The man looked absolutely terrible, his robes torn and hanging off him in rags. There were new, thin scars on his arms and face, and some of his long, matted hair had been singed off. To top it all off, he was filthy. That was normal for your average refugee who''d just spent over a week on the run, but not for a hydromancer. ¡°Uriah?¡± Bernt said, shocked at the sight. ¡°You look like shit! What in all the hells happened?¡± ¡°Demons, Bernt. Demons happened.¡± Uriah clenched his fists, his eyes losing focus for a moment. ¡°The damned guards up there wouldn¡¯t let me report to the count. They think I¡¯m crazy! Can you get me in to see Ed? I need to talk to him ¨C right now.¡± *** Bernt took Uriah directly to Fiora, letting him talk along the way. It was clear the he had been through something horrific, though he avoided talking about Loamfurth in detail. Instead, he rambled on about the conditions on the road and a group of hungry bandits that had tried to take a poke at the refugees a few days up the road. ¡°I warned them,¡± Uriah groaned, wild eyed. ¡°I told them that none of us had anything valuable. That it wasn''t worth it. Honest people, no merchants here with us. There wasn''t time to grab anything when the demons came. We ran, all of us. No valuables.¡° The other mage stopped for a moment and wiped at his face, leaving a smudge on it. "They wouldn''t leave it. Stupid bandits. No, they just wouldn''t listen. Those idiots!¡± ¡°It''s alright, Uriah.¡± Bernt said. He could guess what happened. ¡°You did the right thing.¡± But Uriah kept rambling. Bernt had felt uncomfortable the first time he''d killed someone. He still felt uncomfortable, even though it was easier now. Uriah... well, it was clear that he was more than uncomfortable. He was traumatized both by what had happened to him and what he himself had done. He only stopped talking when Bernt opened the office door, revealing Fiora scribbling something on a form behind her desk. She looked up as they entered and froze as she caught sight of their former colleague. ¡°Uriah? You look like something the cat dragged in.¡± ¡°Ah... Fiora?¡± he asked, looking back at Bernt in confusion. ¡°Where¡¯s Ed?¡± Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°Ed¡¯s indisposed. The Solicitors set up a banishment ritual in the battle over here ¨C just outside, actually. There was an accident. They¡¯re working on getting him back, but they¡¯re not exactly posting updates in the market square about it.¡± ¡°You mean¡­no. No, no, no. How is that even possible!?¡± Uriah¡¯s jaw clenched as he visibly got himself under control. ¡°It¡¯s those damned warlocks! Those Duergar could never pull this off alone ¨C they came up right under the middle of the city! I bet they¡¯re working together. We need to do something!¡± He took a step back from Bernt, suddenly eyeing him with unnerving intensity. ¡°Hey, you had that demon, right. What happened to that?¡± ¡°Uriah!¡± Fiora snapped. ¡°Control yourself. Bernt here was just leaving, anyway.¡± She gave him a pointed look, and Bernt took the hint, backing out of the room. Whatever Uriah had been through, he doubted the man would ever be quite the same. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Not bothering to wait for orders, Bernt went to Ed¡¯s office to collect a stack of application forms for assignment to temporary housing and brought them out to the courtyard. The guard outside had helpfully propped the double doors open, and the refugees who¡¯d been listening earlier were already there and waiting. But they weren¡¯t alone. Torvald had already dragged out a table and was noting down a dwarf¡¯s information on a form exactly like the ones Bernt was holding. At the same time, two other Underkeepers worked to get everyone into some semblance of a line, even as more refugees trickled in. The paladin looked up and waved when he saw Bernt approach. ¡°Hey Bernt! You¡¯re on the late shift, right? Want to give me a hand with this?¡± ¡°Sure, already on it,¡± he replied, waving the stack of forms at him as he moved to get a table of his own into position next to the paladin, ¡°but no to the late shift. I was working at the Mages¡¯ Guild. The archmage wants to make sure I¡¯m properly prepared to represent the guild¡¯s interests.¡± Torvald snorted as he handed the form to the dwarf. ¡°It¡¯s like that, huh?¡± ¡°I guess, yeah. She already knew ¨C no idea how. It¡¯s weird. I¡¯m not even supposed to know anything, yet. What''s the point of all the formality if all the decisions have already been made and everyone already knows everything?¡± The paladin shrugged at him and took a moment to explain to the dwarf where to find the address to his new temporary accommodations in the refugee quarter before resuming the conversation. ¡°The Mages¡¯ Guild has close ties to the government, so I guess it makes sense. Just don''t forget why you''re there.¡± He paused to give Bernt a serious look, emphasizing his words. ¡°I wanted you along to help keep me out of politics. I¡¯m not here to push whatever agenda your guild has in all this. I don''t care what the archmage wants from you, but don''t get me wrapped up in the guild''s business. I only serve one master.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the goal,¡± Bernt said, nodding. ¡°Don''t worry.¡± He wasn''t going to pull Torvald into anything, of course. But that didn''t mean he''d be able to avoid politics, himself. Iriala¡¯s words gnawed at him ¨C that those who didn¡¯t shape events themselves would be shaped by them in turn. They rang true, not least because they confirmed what Bernt had always known about the rich and powerful. They saw their lessers as tools, and they saw everyone as their lesser. Torvald might be able to get around that ¨C he had a goddess on his side. Bernt, though¡­ he didn¡¯t have that kind of protection. *** Jori stalked along the narrow rocky ridge with her nose in the air, scouting ahead of Ed, who followed along behind and below her. She could smell the blood fiend¡¯s stench in the air up ahead. They were getting close. She wasn¡¯t entirely sure if her sense of smell had improved naturally, as a result of her evolution, or because of her improved sorcerous spirit. She supposed it didn¡¯t really matter, but she was sure that Bernt would want to know. Maybe they could figure it out later. Ducking down, Jori cautiously crept up to the crest of the ridge and peered over. Her breath caught in her throat when she did, and she froze for a second before carefully pulling her head back down. A familiar-looking imp foraged less than ten steps away, mostly facing away from her. His name was Maladzhoth, and it looked like he¡¯d managed to undergo his first metamorphosis. He flipped a rock with a clatter and pawed down into the cracks of the rocks underneath, coming up with a cockroach-like bug, which he immediately crunched down on. The sight brought back unwelcome memories, and Jori shuddered, remembering the taste of the things vividly. They were bitter, and their insides had burned her throat. But they were also the biggest things available to eat out here for a demon. A non-cannibal demon, anyway. Stupid fiends. Jori gritted her teeth and signalled down to Ed, telling him to stop. Then, she crept along below the ridgeline to her right, closer to where Maladzhoth was eating. Being extremely careful not to step on any loose rocks, she took another peek. Perfect. Checking her footing, Jori crouched down, let out a slow breath, and pounced, spreading her wings to extend the distance of her leap just a bit. Maladzhoth heard her and turned, lightning quick, but it was too late. Jori crashed into him, one hand closing around the other imp¡¯s neck. He landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him and cushioning Jori¡¯s fall in the process. Maladzhoth hissed in pain and raised his legs to kick at her, but she sank her claws partway into his neck in warning and he stopped, eyes bulging. ¡°Stop!¡± Jori hissed. ¡°I got you! You¡¯re my prisoner, okay? You have to do what I say.¡± She withdrew her claws, coated in burning blood, and the other imp nodded. She noted idly that the hellfire didn¡¯t burn her hands anymore. That was great! ¡°Dzhorianath?¡± Maladhzoth asked, eyeing her. ¡°You¡¯re big!¡± Then he batted at her, hissing angrily. ¡°Get off me! You didn¡¯t have to hit me so hard. That hurt!¡± ¡°Quiet!¡± Jori hissed, and smacked at him with her free hand. Still grumbling, he stopped resisting as she hauled him bodily over the ridge and down toward Ed. After a moment, he got his feet under him and walked on his own, though Jori¡¯s claws were still on his neck. ¡°Wait a second.¡± Maladzoth said when he caught sight of Ed. ¡°You¡¯re back home with your mortal? How? You can¡¯t do that!¡± ¡°Of course I can!¡± she replied. ¡°I¡¯m doing it right now!¡± Her prisoner slowed for a moment and threw a glance back at her, eyes narrowed. ¡±Ah, it¡¯s a double cross, right? You brought him back so the Great Ones will kill him for you?¡± Jori stopped, peering at him in confusion. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Nuros wants to have you ¨C everybody knows. You¡¯ll be a great one, soon. There is a reward for whoever kills the mortal and clears your obligation. Can I ¨C ouch!¡± Jori smacked Maladzhoth over the back of the head so hard that he would have stumbled forward if she hadn¡¯t already been holding on to his neck with her other hand. ¡°Nobody kills the Great Mage!¡± she growled angrily, getting him moving down toward Ed again. ¡°He¡¯s going to help us kill Tallash. I¡¯m going to free the pack!¡± Ed watched calmly as the two imps approached before casting a spell to bind the prisoner¡¯s hands and feet. ¡°You know, Jori, I don¡¯t think he really meant me.¡± Ed said conversationally, as if overhearing what they¡¯d been saying a hundred steps away wasn¡¯t in any way unusual. Jori looked up at him in surprise. Did he have some kind of listening spell? Could she learn something like that? ¡°Wait, he¡¯s the wrong one?¡± Maladzoth grumphed and rolled his eyes. ¡°Mortals all look alike.¡± ¡°He said they want to clear your obligation,¡± the archmage continued. ¡°So, they¡¯re after Bernt. Doesn¡¯t that sound exactly like what you want to do with that fiend that has your little imp friends? I suppose that means they don¡¯t know the nature of your relationship. Do they think you two have a pact?¡± ¡°I won''t serve someone who kills Bernt!¡± Jori hissed angrily. ¡°That''s stupid. I''ll burn them from the inside like I did Nuros. I''ll do it and then I''ll eat their soul.¡± ¡°Right, but they don''t know that, right? They''ll think it works just like when we kill Tallash, won''t they?" Ed asked. ¡°Well, then they''re stupid.¡± Jori said grumpily. ¡°I am not a servant.¡± 3.13 Priorities ¡°Tell me what you¡¯ve worked out about the Temples, so far,¡± Iriala demanded, stabbing her fork into some greens. She¡¯d summoned Bernt to her office for lunch ¨C the second time she¡¯d done so since he¡¯d been reassigned to the guild. The first time around, she¡¯d grilled him about post-Madurian history. He¡¯d answered her questions as best he could, but the archmage had exacting standards. Sure, he knew what happened and when, but she¡¯d wanted interpretation and applicability in the modern context. This time, he¡¯d come prepared to do better. ¡°They don¡¯t really get along,¡± Bernt said. ¡°The Invigilation isn¡¯t really an alliance of like-minded gods, or their temples. If you look at their writings, it¡¯s clear that they really only have one thing in common ¨C they¡¯re all interventionists.¡± Iriala looked at him over her glasses for a moment and then resumed eating. Bernt took her silence for confirmation that he was on the right track. ¡°All of the gods had good reason to take offense at the purge of their temples in Mahat¡¯Ur, but only those four actually intervened personally. Working together probably only served to ensure that a more conservative god, like Oreleth, or Rouan, wouldn¡¯t challenge them for their direct interference. After all, their actions nearly led to the destruction of human civilization. They were taking a risk.¡± ¡°Good. What does that mean for us?¡± Iriala asked. ¡°Specifically, with regard to political influence.¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°It means we can deal with each temple individually. Each of them have relatively simple and predictable objectives and interests. Noruk wants to facilitate unity through conquest, while Balarian likes freedom, novelty and heterogeneity. Eyeli wants to create prosperity through order and growth, and Ruzinia just wants to save everyone, somehow.¡± ¡°Which means,¡± Iriala finished, offering him a small nod, ¡°that getting an individual temple¡¯s support is often as simple as aligning your actions and objectives with their relatively simple interests.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Bernt said. ¡°But what are our objectives? You haven¡¯t even told me what our interests are. The guild, I mean. What do you want me to get out of it for you?¡± Iriala scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s not about me. The Mages¡¯ Guild is a powerful institution in Besermark ¨C and the oldest one, for that matter. We aren¡¯t the most popular, the largest, or the wealthiest guild, but we¡¯ve always been closest to the ears of the powerful. We¡¯ve represented the backbone of every human military and every center of learning and academics since the Madurian Empire. We are their true legacy, more than the nobility or the temples or any other institution. Every ruling noble in the country has a court mage to advise them ¨C not a court priest or a court berserker.¡± Bernt took a bite of his own lunch ¨C a sadly bland vegetable wrap he¡¯d bought at a nearby market for a few coppers ¨C and chewed unenthusiastically to give himself a moment to think. ¡°So, we just want to make sure we¡¯re part of the action? So we don¡¯t lose face?¡± ¡°No,¡± Iriala said bluntly. ¡°Of course not. We want to prevent a massive war from breaking out if at all possible. Chaos is the catalyst for political and societal change, and the guild has a lot to lose. We¡¯re vulnerable. Our guild is active in infrastructure management, communication, security and warding, medicine, construction, agriculture and nearly every major industry in the country. We already lose too many fresh academy graduates to the military ¨C we absolutely can¡¯t afford to have hundreds of our guild mages drafted and killed fighting the Duergar. The entire country¡¯s economy would collapse. And that would be if we win!¡± ¡°Right, and the king can¡¯t afford that either,¡± Bernt said slowly, as several other facts finally clicked into place in his mind. ¡°That¡¯s why the count and the guilds are just letting the Temples take over like this, right? The crown can''t afford to fund a massive war alone. If the Invigilation is in charge, they¡¯ll have to use their own resources, and also pull in all of our neighbors to share the load.¡± Iriala shrugged. ¡°If it comes to that. Our interests are clear. We need the Invigilation to take things one step at a time ¨C to reach out to the Duergar¡¯s Imperial Council and discover their intentions. I expect that they don¡¯t understand the extent to which their vassal is trafficking with demons. If we¡¯re lucky, they¡¯ll simply fight amongst themselves and leave us out of it entirely.¡± ¡°That¡­ that would be ideal.¡± Bernt tried to imagine it. It sounded too good to be true, considering how things had been going. ¡°It would,¡± Iriala agreed, ¡°but there¡¯s no chance of that happening if Noruk¡¯s warmongers march an army of fanatics down there first. The only way to reach the best possible future is to make that future for ourselves. So, we know what Noruk wants ¨C he and his priests are obviously not a potential ally. What have you learned about Eyeli?¡± *** Bernt left the lunch meeting disturbed by the implications of what the archmage had told him. Did Iriala seriously expect him to single-handedly influence the entire Invigilation to do as she wished? That seemed ridiculous. On the upside, he didn''t think he he would need to convince Torvald to speak out against invading a foreign empire on Noruk¡¯s say so. But what was that worth? How much weight would Torvald¡¯s word carry? Bernt wasn¡¯t part of the conclave ¨C he could only try to talk to people informally. But why would anyone at the Sacral Peaks listen to him? How did Iriala expect him to change anything? Trying to banish the looming sense of dread that had formed in the pit of his stomach over the course of the meeting, Bernt dropped by Magister Pollock¡¯s office to discuss potential experiments that he could run in the Phoenix Reaches. Despite himself, though, he quickly found himself derailing the conversation and spilling his worries out to the old man, starting with the lunch meeting, and explaining backwards to where he agreed to become Torvald¡¯s legitimator. ¡°Take a breath, boy.¡± Pollock admonished him. ¡°Iriala has always been too focused on her schemes, you hear me? The world will burn tomorrow, or it won¡¯t.¡± The old man leaned forward, tapping on the pages of Bernt¡¯s notes on his desk as he met his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s all just a distraction. This, right here, is real history.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°The archmage says this could impact the future of the entire guild, and all of Besermark with it! How can I ignore that?!¡± Pollock shrugged. ¡°A few cities more or less in the world ¨C that¡¯s a concern for kings and emperors. That¡¯s why they get to wear a golden hat! Powerful people with more knowledge and experience than you are already working to protect the status quo ¨C that¡¯s what Iriala wants, is it not?¡± ¡°I guess.¡± Bernt conceded. ¡°She didn¡¯t sound confident that things would go our way, though, and she expects me to help.¡± ¡°Pfff." Pollock chuffed. "There¡¯s always something threatening the kingdom. You just never hear about most of it. When you can, you should leave those concerns to the people who are best equipped to deal with them. Iriala is too focused on high-level concerns. You need to consider what you can do better than anyone else.¡± Bernt looked down at the notes the old wizard had been poking at a moment before. ¡°Experiments?¡± ¡°Research!¡± Pollock corrected him emphatically. ¡°Research into the applications of sorcery and sorcerous investitures in magecraft. Preventing a larger war is laudable, but it¡¯s a poor use of your time and abilities. These experiments are important! Far more important than politicking with priests. You invented a method for restoring burnt out war mages to service. Perfecting that, and developing yourself to see where we can take it in the future, would make a huge difference. Instead of supplying guild mages for a war, for example, we could restore trained veterans in trade. It would strengthen both the guild and the entire country as a whole!¡± Bernt blinked at Pollock, surprised at the frustration that had crept in his voice as he spoke. ¡°Uh. I heard that former war mages were already using it, actually. Fiora ¨C my boss ¨C was a war mage. She said that mages would have started using my method the moment they heard about it.¡± Pollock scoffed dismissively. ¡°All the more reason to speed this along! Without a proper, officially sanctioned procedure, you¡¯ll have people burning their spirits to cinders with improperly optimized hellfire derivatives. This sort of thing needs to be done in a controlled environment with trained experts!¡± That seemed more than a little hypocritical to Bernt, considering the kinds of risks that Pollock considered entirely justified for himself and wizards in general. Still, it didn''t seem wise to point that out right now. ¡°Alright, then, why don¡¯t we go to Iriala and ask her about it? I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll see the sense behind it if we explain it like that. Maybe I could bring an entire research team along!¡± ¡°I have.¡± Pollock said, sounding suddenly exhausted. ¡°I¡¯ve been hounding her about it for weeks. She¡¯s too conservative ¨C says I¡¯m pushing you too fast, and that the guild in Teres needs to get used to the idea before we can get anything officially endorsed. There¡¯s a lot of resistance there to the idea that ¡®primitive¡¯ magic like sorcery should have a place in the guild at all.¡± Bernt ran a hand through his hair and tried not to curse. ¡°So, I actually have two important jobs to do, but I can only get support for the one that I¡¯m unqualified for,¡± he concluded, the earlier sense of dread he¡¯d been feeling returning, now redoubled. ¡°Nonsense!¡± The old wizard cackled. ¡°You have one job and I¡¯ll help you with it. The one Iriala gave you is a waste of time. But she¡¯s still throwing lots of time and guild resources your way, and that is not a waste. A good general education never is.¡± He picked up the notepaper in front of him and waved it in front of Bernt¡¯s face. ¡°Now, I have to ask, what exactly do you hope to learn by summoning a lesser flame sprite?¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°I want to toss one into a rune circle to see if it¡¯ll unravel into a spellform. The description made it sound almost like a cross between a spell and an elemental. If I¡¯m lucky, I might be able to use it as a sort of bridging investiture.¡± "Hmmm." Pollock squinted at Bernt in consternation. Then, he opened his mouth, closed it again, crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling, considering. Finally, a slow crooked grin spread across his face. ¡°Well, it sounds like a long shot. But if it doesn''t work, you might still be able to harvest something from it that might support the growth of your sorcerous investiture. Either way, we''ll learn something new." *** By the time Bernt left to go home that night, he felt almost confident. Well, maybe confident was a bit of an exaggeration, but he had a direction. Goals that felt achievable. Sure, he would do what he¡¯d promised to Iriala and talk to whoever might listen at the Sacral Peaks. Ultimately, though, he was sure that Pollock was right. The biggest impact he could have was as a wizard, not as some kind of Mages¡¯ Guild diplomat. The old pyromancer had not only helped him refine his experiments, he¡¯d also given him a list of potential materials to look for. Most of those had already been in the reading materials Bernt had checked out about the Phoenix Reaches from the library, but Pollock¡¯s list included their uses in various mana network architectures, and even a few notes about alchemy and ritual magic. After stopping for a few sticky buns from a familiar-looking street vendor in the Temple District, Bernt made his way through the inner gate to the ruined Crafters¡¯ District. It was already dark out, and he could make out the shadowed silhouettes of Duergar prisoners as they repaired cracked foundations and laid new ones. Seeing them there, calmly working in the middle of Halfbridge still left a bad taste in his mouth. Tugging his scarf tighter around his neck, he hurried past, suddenly feeling unaccountably disturbed. Something felt wrong here. It was too quiet and too dark. He could still hear the noises made by the Duergar workers, of course, but the blood rushing through his ears was even louder. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Bernt flinched, whirling around. A silhouette stood in the street behind him, nearly half as tall again as he was. Quick as a snake, the shadow reached for him, a creepy, six-fingered hand darting at his face. Bernt reacted even before he fully registered what he was seeing. Light flared in his right hand as he poured manaburn out into it and flung it forward toward his assailant. The liquid white fire missed, but only because the motion turned out to be unnecessary. As soon as it was exposed to the light, the shade collapsed down, stretching out along the ground away from him like the shadow of a man that wasn¡¯t there. It wriggled oddly, as if the demon were still trying to strike him, but it couldn¡¯t break out of its two-dimensional form. The shadow advanced, feet first. It briefly crept up onto his robes, but was forcibly pushed back by the light a moment later. Realizing what it was, Bernt lifted the flame flickering in his right hand to eliminate the nearby shadows as much as possible. At the same time, he formed banefire in his left. Dull gray fire kindled in his hand, but he never got a chance to use it. The shadow flickered once, recoiling, and was gone. Bernt whirled around, trying to find it, but there was nothing there. The Duergar were still working, though one was looking curiously at the light Bernt was holding up. Bernt glared at him until he looked away, and then turned to continue making his way to the Undercity. He¡¯d have to report this to the Solicitors, but he doubted any of them would still be in the office. Bernt cast a torch spell and set it hovering over his shoulder. He shivered, unable to shake the unnatural sense of terror and wrongness that had struck him right before the attack. That couldn''t be natural. He didn¡¯t care how many strange looks he got, he was never going anywhere without a light ever again. 3.14 Demon Hunting ¡°Alright.¡± The pimply young solicitor said, pen scratching on paper as he took down Bernt¡¯s report. ¡°So, the shade had a three-dimensional shape in the darkness? It was standing up?¡± Bernt fidgeted, his arm bumping into a wall in the cramped, broom closet sized office at the Solicitors¡¯ temporary offices in the Crafters¡¯ Quarter. Their building in the Lower District was still undergoing repairs. ¡°Yes.¡± he confirmed. ¡°That¡¯s what I said.¡± ¡°But it couldn¡¯t hold it in the presence of a torch? And you¡¯re sure it attacked you?¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure ¨C it went directly for my face!¡± Bernt insisted, failing to keep the exasperation from his voice. He¡¯d come to try to talk to Radast or anyone who would actually be able to do something with the information that there were still enemy demons loose in Halfbridge. Instead, he¡¯d been met with Finn, whose job, as far as Bernt could tell, was to keep the public away from anyone who mattered. He wasn¡¯t even a warlock yet! ¡°Alright, perfect,¡± Finn said, signing the paper and inking some kind of stamp, which he pressed over the signature. ¡°Thank you for your report. I¡¯ll file it right away and get that taken care of for you.¡± ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± Bernt glared at him. ¡°There¡¯s a shadowy demon that can pass through walls after me, and I¡¯m supposed to just wait around for the paperwork to process?! What if it comes back?¡± Finn shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that¡¯s really all I can do. A shade that can¡¯t manifest properly in torchlight conditions is a class two or three at best. It wouldn¡¯t have been corporeal enough to seriously injure you. Shades are spies and agents of terror, but we¡¯ve never recorded one below class four actually killing anyone.¡± Bernt grunted and narrowed his eyes at his opponent. As an experienced public servant, Bernt knew exactly what would happen to his report if he simply accepted defeat here and left. It would get filed at the bottom of a pile somewhere in the basement, where it would remain until it disintegrated. His report wasn¡¯t interesting or threatening enough to the public to merit an immediate response. At any other time, he was sure this would have been one of the most exciting things to happen to the Halfbridge Solicitors all year. But they were still picking up the pieces from the battle themselves, and they¡¯d been fighting demons all over the city for weeks while the Duergar were here. Right now, today, a single straggler probably just wasn¡¯t enough to rate a proper response. But Bernt was sure there was more to it. During the siege, the shades had acted as spies. So, why break cover now? As far as he knew, none of them had directly attacked anyone. ¡°You know, it was still trying to reach me after it lost its shape.¡± Bernt tried. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that seem unusual to you? Why would a secret spy reveal itself to take a shot at me if it didn¡¯t think it would work?¡± ¡°That¡­ is kind of strange.¡± Finn admitted, shifting uncomfortably. ¡°I don¡¯t know ¨C¡± ¡°Just take that report to someone who can do something with it and let them make the call, alright?¡± Bernt insisted. ¡°Go on. I¡¯ll wait.¡± He could practically see the young Solicitor waffling as he weighed the risk of irritating his superior against the opportunity to make him someone else¡¯s problem. He wished Josie were still here. She could have gotten him right through to Radast immediately, he was sure. What would Iriala say here? There had to be a way to get through this guy. Clearing his throat, Bernt gave it his best shot. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not just going to drop this, alright? I understand if the Solicitors have higher priorities, but if you can¡¯t help me, I¡¯m just going to go to the Temple District. Maybe the Temple of Noruk? I heard the Invigilation is coming back, so maybe they should be handling these cases again, anyway. They''ll probably want to prove themselves anyway, after how little they contributed to the battle. They''ll want to prove that they''re still relevant, right?¡± The Solicitors¡¯ legitimacy as an organization was tied to their mandate to control demon activity in Besermark. Seeing the Temples act in the name of the Invigilation at all must be a serious concern for them. If the temples were to actually take over the day-to-day responsibilities of the Solicitors, it would threaten their reason to exist as an institution in the eyes of the crown. Sure, it wouldn¡¯t mean anything today, but who was to say that the Temples wouldn¡¯t seize on the idea if it were brought to their attention? Now, as long as Finn was aware of all that... The novice Solicitor scowled at him sourly. A few minutes later, Bernt found himself stepping into the office of Finn¡¯s boss, whose name was Ewa according to the sign on her door. He froze when he entered and saw who it was, but carefully kept his expression under control. She was the same elderly, gray-haired Solicitor who he¡¯d seen spreading rumors about Jori in the Temple District. Great. ¡°Underkeeper Bernard,¡± she greeted him formally as Finn left, closing the door behind him. ¡°Please recount the details of your encounter for me.¡± Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°I believe you¡¯ll find all the details in the report that Finn compiled. He was pretty thorough.¡± What was the point of writing up a report if they weren¡¯t even going to read it? ¡°Nonetheless, please humor me,¡± Ewa replied flatly. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Suppressing his irritation, Bernt explained what had happened, making sure to emphasize the tenacity of the demon. ¡°It was clearly still trying to reach me right up until I started to conjure banefire,¡± he finished, as the Solicitor nodded along. ¡°I see,¡± she said, jotting some notes down into the margins of Finn¡¯s report. ¡°You¡¯re right, the circumstances of your encounter are unusual, as such things go. I¡¯ll put someone on it today and let you know what we find.¡± Bernt ground his teeth, but he managed to keep his tone relatively mild. ¡°Is that all you can do?¡± Ewa nodded matter of factly. ¡°For now, yes. Catching a shade takes time. Besides, Finn was correct in his assessment of the demon¡¯s strength. Regardless of its aggression, the only injuries you might have suffered if it had managed to get its claws into you would have been psychological. Even then, you¡¯d have recovered in days.¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± Bernt said, trying to sound professional. Should he keep pushing? Radast already disliked him, so there was no point in trying to be friends, but he didn¡¯t actually want to antagonize the Solicitors. Sure, he wanted answers, but he didn¡¯t want to come across as someone who jumped at shadows, either. ¡°I look forward to hearing from you, then,¡± he excused himself. ¡°Thank you for seeing me.¡± What could this mean? He needed to get to the Mages¡¯ Guild and start his day. Still, whatever the Solicitors told him, he wasn¡¯t going to let his guard down until this shade problem was taken care of. As he left, he conjured a torch spell over his shoulder, just to be safe. *** Uriah sat in the break room of the new Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters and sipped on a hot beverage ¨C some kind of tea. Fiora had let him sleep in one of the empty back rooms of the huge complex. She¡¯d offered him his old job back, too, but he wasn¡¯t so sure he wanted to take it. It was strange, seeing so many new faces mixed in with the occasional familiar ones. Kustov was sitting at a table with an old goblin woman, a human and a younger goblin who was missing a few fingers on the hand he held his cup with, chatting as if they were lifelong friends. And Ed was gone. Probably forever, if the rumors were true and all he had to get him back here was the word of Bernt¡¯s nasty little imp. ¡°A lot has changed around here,¡± he commented to Yarrod, who was digging into his lunch. ¡°What do you make of it?¡± Uriah had always liked the gnome. Most of the others seemed to resent their position as Underkeepers on some level, and it made them unpleasant company to work with. Yarrod hadn¡¯t volunteered for the job any more than Dayle and Fiora, but he¡¯d accepted his lot, just as Uriah himself had done. It was useful work, and the pay was good. What was there to complain about? At least, until someone burned your city down around your ears. Yarrod followed his gaze, his eyes briefly stopping on the goblins. ¡°Oh, I believe they¡¯re good sorts, for the most part,¡± he opined. ¡°Most of the goblins moved down here, it¡¯s only right that they step up in support of their community in matters of defense and security. I have been pleasantly surprised with respect to the incidence of crime in the Goblin Quarter. It is, frankly, better than what we see in the new Crafters¡¯ Quarter. I can¡¯t say I regret trading some of the sewer duties for security, myself.¡± Uriah scratched at his chin, idly noting that he needed to shave. ¡°I see. So they¡¯re doing sewer work, too? Isn¡¯t that dangerous? Underkeepers are mages for a reason. What do they do about mutants and slimes?¡± Yarrod chuckled. ¡°They have their own means ¨C some of them. We have shamans now, a druid, a witch, and who knows what else. Their use of magic is crude, I grant you, but they work well enough for the purpose. Are you concerned that you might be relegated to clearing goblin septic systems full-time if you rejoin us? I can assuage your concerns in that regard ¨C they handle it themselves.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that.¡± Uriah said, shaking his head. ¡°I never minded the work. But no, I¡¯m not so sure I want my job back. I came back to fight the demons! With Ed gone, I don¡¯t know which direction it¡¯s going to go around here.¡± Yarrod shrugged. ¡°We already won the battle here, I¡¯d say. If you¡¯re looking for a fight, you have to go where they¡¯ll be next. Why don¡¯t you try enlisting? Arice is still here, and I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯d turn down a hydromancer.¡± Uriah grimaced. ¡°Then you lack imagination, old friend. I¡¯m stalled, and not a magister. Besides, what I have is the wrong kind of architecture for a war mage. I can¡¯t adapt well anymore. They¡¯d never take me.¡± *** ¡°Pff! You don¡¯t need the endorsement of the crown to travel! Why don¡¯t you just join the adventurers?¡± Kustov asked. ¡°There are lots of parties with goblins out there nowadays, and you could travel all over the country.¡± Nirlig grimaced ambivalently. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ I don¡¯t really like it. They¡¯re basically just paid bandits, when you get right down to it. I don¡¯t want to burn down a poor gnoll village just because they got into some farmer¡¯s sheep. Being hungry isn¡¯t a crime. Or it shouldn¡¯t be, anyway.¡± ¡°The farmers would disagree. But you don¡¯t have to take any quests you don¡¯t want to, regardless.¡± Torvald argued. ¡°Some people don¡¯t fight at all, except in self defense. Aronard the herbalist just finds and retrieves rare plants for people, and he¡¯s famous!¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Nirlig smirked wryly, ¡°but finding rare and beautiful flowers for rich and lonely human noblewomen with nothing better to do isn¡¯t a very good business model for a goblin.¡± Torvald coughed and blushed a bit in embarrassment. ¡°Right, that¡¯s probably true.¡± ¡°What?! How can you know, if you will not try?¡± Lin said, cackling. ¡°You are a very handsome boy, Nirlig.¡± ¡°Lin!¡± Nirlig squirmed uncomfortably. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think¡­ and for humans? Ugh!¡± ¡°My mother told me the count is hiring the adventurers to provide security for our delegation to the Sacral Peaks.¡± Torvald interjected, taking pity on Nirlig and bringing the conversation back on track. ¡°Maybe you could get a spot to come along!¡± Nirlig gave him a skeptical look. ¡°You think they¡¯d take on someone with no record? I don¡¯t even have a party!¡± ¡°Well, you won¡¯t find out if you don¡¯t try.¡± Torvald insisted. ¡°You¡¯re part of a city guard force, and you fought in a major battle. Besides, it¡¯s a long way to travel and I doubt most adventurers around here will want to spend too much time on the road in winter ¨C especially if the Duergar and their demons find out about this and start coming after us. It¡¯s going to be dangerous.¡± Nirlig grinned. ¡°You¡¯re just saying that because you feel bad about not getting me appointed as your legitimator. But, you¡¯re right, that really doesn¡¯t sound like a very good time. ¡± Torvald opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again with a grimace. Nirlig was right. ¡°Excuse me,¡± said a voice behind him, just as someone tapped him on the shoulder. The paladin twisted in his seat to find that a serious-looking man in gray Underkeeper¡¯s robes had approached their table. His eyes were fixed on him and burned with a kind of feverish intensity that reminded him oddly of Hannis, the high priest of Noruk. ¡°Did you say you were going to fight demons?¡± 3.15 Hypothesis The next several days, Bernt focused as best he could on working his way through Iriala¡¯s books. He made sure to visit Pollock as often as he could, refining ideas for potential experiments. After work, he went to visit the library to study and check in on Hallan. The librarian had managed to find quite a bit of information on planar theory ¨C they just hadn¡¯t managed to figure out how to apply it yet. None of the texts talked about ambient mana, much less anything like a mana bridge or tether that might transmit a familiar bond between planes. Still, Bernt was sure they were on the right track. There had to be something there. Despite the lack of useful results, Bernt felt like things were coming together, somehow. At least, until he left the guild to go home each night. Whenever he stepped into the street, Bernt found himself looking over his shoulder and jumping at shadows. He kept a light burning over his shoulder at all times when he wasn¡¯t behind the guild¡¯s wards. Passersby were starting to give him odd looks. Bernt often felt like he was being watched, especially every time he walked through the ruined Crafters¡¯ District. He knew he was being paranoid. Mostly. Maybe. Someone probably was watching him. He had no reason to believe that shade wasn¡¯t still around, even if it couldn¡¯t actually kill him. It could certainly cause this kind of psychological reaction ¨C that was what the shades had been doing during the siege, after all. Unfortunately, being aware of the problem didn¡¯t lessen the symptoms. The question was why. And was the demon following him personally, or was it just terrorizing the Crafters¡¯ Quarter? Bernt was still considering the problem when he opened his front door to find two letters that had been pushed under his door. He closed it, hung a few torch spells up near the ceiling to light the house brightly and bent down to pick up the letters. One was just a folded piece of paper, while the other was written on heavy cardstock in a fancy envelope. It looked very official, with a mana-infused seal and everything. The mana signature wouldn''t mean anything to Bernt, but it could be compared to a registry at the guild to verify its source. Probably Iriala herself, now that he considered it. She was the court mage, after all. Taking a deep breath, Bernt opened the expensive envelope, first. Underkeeper Bernard, You are hereby summoned to appear before the Count, Narald of Halfbridge on Eyelsday next, one hour before noon¡­ The letter didn¡¯t actually mention why he was being summoned, but he could guess. Iriala wouldn¡¯t have gone to such lengths preparing him if she wasn¡¯t sure that the count would follow through. This was going to be his formal appointment as Torvald¡¯s legitimator. The letter went on about appropriate attire and proper forms of address, which Bernt, ironically, had just learned all about from Iriala¡¯s books. By the looks of it, there was going to be quite a ceremony. He was going to need a more formal mage¡¯s robe to be presented to the court. Bernt had been meaning to visit a tailor for some time, but he hadn¡¯t managed to get around to it so far. Now, he was running out of time. Eyelsday was in just three days, so there wasn''t nearly enough time for a custom job. He''d have to shop around to find what he needed on hand somewhere. He wanted something he could take to the Sacral Peaks, so he needed to see about getting it properly enchanted as well ¨C but that could wait until after the ceremony. For now, he just needed something that would make a better impression than basic Underkeepers'' gear. Still, he would have to talk to Grixit, soon. It was going to be a tricky project. The robe needed to provide proper protection, but the enchantments had to be laid on the garment in a way that didn¡¯t risk setting him on fire the first time he cast his manaburn spell. The shaman would figure something out, he was sure. The second message was from Farrin, at the orphanage. She wanted to know if and when he was planning to start teaching again. He¡¯d only visited once since the battle, and it had just been to check on Gnugg and Trip. The kobold had been out, but Trip said he was doing fine. She¡¯d be at the Mages¡¯ Academy now ¨C her first winter term would have just started. Bernt sighed and tossed the note down on his table. He was just too busy. The orphanage would have to find a new tutor. Beside his official studies for Iriala and his personal projects, the tide of refugees had only surged since Uriah had arrived. Nearly a thousand people streamed into the Undercity every day. The place would be full in a few more days, even if things slowed down. Most nights, he stopped for an hour or two to help guide the flow and process a few of them, trying to ease the pressure on his colleagues. That, and he felt guilty. Sure, Fiora had traded him for more support from City Maintenance, which gave her more of her own people to work on the refugees. It was a net gain for the Underkeepers. But still ¨C he spent his days hiding away in a library and reading for his own personal benefit while collecting his normal salary. Meanwhile, his friends had to work their asses off trying to wrangle desperate and traumatized people into temporary accommodations here every day. No matter how the math worked out, it felt like he was doing something wrong. *** When he arrived at his new office the next morning, Bernt found a few additional books waiting on his desk, probably courtesy of Iriala. They documented the history of the second and third Great Clysmic Wars. Both texts were painfully dry, painstakingly detailing the Invigilation¡¯s campaigns to permanently break the back of the Circle of Nine after the fall of the Madurian Empire, which ultimately left the hated warlock cult confined to the Isle of Harrowick. Their organization languished there in a diminished state until their destruction in a summoning gone so wrong that the island was still uninhabited over a hundred years later. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. After another lunch with Iriala, where she grilled him about the potential political significance of various obscure details buried in those texts, Bernt made his way down to the library. By now, he and Hallan had read everything there was about planar theory, but that didn¡¯t mean they understood it. They needed fresh eyes to look over the problem and all the information ¨C someone who thought outside the box. His first impulse had been to talk to Pollock. The old wizard was a genius, and even if he wasn¡¯t an expert on planar theory, he would surely understand the literature better than Bernt. On the other hand, though, he¡¯d already told too many people about his persistent familiar bond. Pollock fundamentally considered Jori a resource, not a person, and Bernt doubted he was going to convince him otherwise. That, and he worked for the guild, and for Iriala. Iriala, for her part, would absolutely try to use any connection she could make to further her own aims, and very possibly to Jori¡¯s detriment. She was already trying to make him into a tool for the guild, and that was fine to a point, but there were limits. If at all possible, he wanted to keep this quiet. Fortunately, Bernt could think of another mage who had a flair for creative applications of magic. Sure, he wasn''t much of a researcher, but he had a stellar education and a knack for using spells in unconventional ways. When Bernt arrived, Hallan took him straight back to the reading room they usually used. Therion was already there, scanning through Hallan¡¯s meticulously organized notes. ¡°Hey Bernt,¡± the other mage greeted him, not looking up. ¡°Did you bring your notes? Hallan says he didn¡¯t cover everything.¡± ¡°Yeah. Of course,¡± Bernt said, digging through his bag to find the rumpled stack of papers that he¡¯d jammed into his book on familiar bonds. He held them out to Therion, who accepted them with a disgusted shake of his head. ¡°How are you a wizard? My little sister is more organized than you! How do you even figure anything out?¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Usually I just keep collecting information until something clicks. It¡¯s not working this time, though. There¡¯s nothing about ambient mana anywhere.¡± He clenched his teeth and made a frustrated noise. ¡°How can I amplify a familiar bond that goes outside the material plane if I can¡¯t even figure out how it¡¯s being transmitted?¡± Therion shrugged without answering and started to flip through Bernt¡¯s notes, organizing them as he went. As he read, Bernt busied himself with Hallan¡¯s notes, going over them again. Hallan, meanwhile, returned to work. Only a few minutes later, Bernt tossed the stack down on the table in disgust. Therion looked up at the noise and raised an eyebrow in question. ¡°It just doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± Bernt complained. ¡°Did none of these people know how mana connects the various planes, or did they just think it didn¡¯t matter?¡± Therion shrugged and dug out one of Hallan¡¯s note papers, glancing over it again. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe it doesn¡¯t. What if Janaris¡¯ theory here is right and the planes actually sort of occupy the same material space, so we¡¯re actually all using the same ambient mana, projected interdimensionally?¡± Bernt snorted. ¡°Then the ambient mana would constantly be moving around or thinning in response to whatever was going on on other planes. It¡¯s way too predictable for that to be true.¡± ¡°Well, okay. Next question,¡± Therion replied, tossing the paper down. ¡°Does it actually matter?¡± Bernt frowned at his friend in confusion. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I mean, we know the familiar bond is working across planes. Do we really need to know how it works? Maybe the entire interdimensional medium is mana. Or maybe there¡¯s no such thing as real distance in the same way as it is here. We don¡¯t really need to find your hypothesized mana bridge or whatever. If the problem were about supposed ¡®distance¡¯ between planes, then amplifying the signal the way you already did should have helped. So, what if we could clear the way a bit, instead? It would be the next most obvious thing to try, right?¡± Noticing Bernt¡¯s confused expression, Therion flipped over one of the note sheets and produced a pen. As Bernt watched, the mage scribbled two stick figures in separate circles, connected by a line. ¡°Alright, think about it like this. You¡¯ve got two people, you and Jori, on two separate planes. We know that the planes aren¡¯t touching, since there aren¡¯t any known confluences. At least nothing like with the elemental planes." Bernt nodded noncommittally. ¡°Right, I know. But that doesn¡¯t really help us. ¡®Clearing the way¡¯, as you said, would mean removing the barrier between here and the third hell. But that would be a portal. We can¡¯t do that, since, as you said, we¡¯re not actually touching on the hells. If that was an option, I wouldn¡¯t be doing this in the first place.¡± ¡°Right. We can¡¯t make a portal to the hells,¡± Therion said, grinning. ¡°But what if, instead, we just make a portal to nowhere? ¡± Bernt opened his mouth to scoff at his friend, but then closed it again as he thought about it. If Therion was right, there wasn¡¯t one barrier between him and Jori, there were two ¨C the one separating the material realm from the interplanar medium, and another separating this non-place from the third hell. If they were the problem, then even getting past one of them should work. Well, it might not work perfectly, but it should do something, right? Excitedly, Bernt opened his bag of holding and dug around in it until his hands closed around a tall, narrow book. He pulled it out and showed it to Therion, who peered at the title in confusion. ¡°A Summoner¡¯s Guide to Elementals?¡± ¡°It explains how to create and stabilize portals at confluence points.¡± Bernt said, flipping to the section about portal formation. ¡°Think about it. Elemental summoning is far more complicated than what you¡¯re suggesting. I¡¯m not totally familiar with all of these runes here, but if we can decipher them properly, it should be easy to simplify this down to something that''ll just cut a way out of our plane without opening up to make a path to somewhere else. That''s what you meant, right?¡± Therion rose, eyes alight with Pollock-like excitement. ¡°I¡¯ll go get Hallan.¡± 3.16 Portal to Nowhere In the end, it wasn¡¯t quite as simple as Bernt had predicted. Hallan had a strong grasp of runes and warding and it took the librarian only a moment to point out several obvious problems that needed solving before they could actually try to create a portal to nowhere. For one, there was no guarantee that such a portal would be stable, or that its collapse wouldn¡¯t cause an explosion, or that some unnameable horror from beyond space and time wouldn¡¯t come climbing out of it at the first opportunity. Fortunately for the three mages, all of these risks were familiar problems for summoners ¨C ones with established solutions. While the other two watched, Hallan simplified the base form of a traditional summoning portal down into a much more basic rune circle. That done, he began to reconfigure it, inscribing various protective features one after another. It was tricky work, since runes didn¡¯t just interact based on their sequence. Their orientation modulated their effect, and the way different runes were positioned from each other across the circle could further alter their function, much as they did when used as part of a spellform. Bernt watched his friend work, impressed. All mages learned runes, of course, but it was a very deep field of study with broad applications. He¡¯d focused on those most relevant to his own area of expertise ¨C pyromancy ¨C and he hadn¡¯t bothered with warding at all. Adventurers rarely had time to carve or paint wards in a fight, after all. Hallan, on the other hand, had at least passing competence with all kinds of runes that had absolutely nothing to do with his chosen specialization. Or maybe they did. What did he know what a professional librarian needed to know? It made Bernt want to carve out some time to study up on the subject. A more general mastery of runes might be exactly what he needed to help him work out how to develop his sorcerous investiture. For that matter, it could be applied to more advanced spell development. But that was just a fantasy for now. He didn¡¯t have time to start on another personal project, and time was running out. He could worry about runes when all this was over. Another minute later, Hallan looked up from his work and grinned. "I think that''s it. We should test it!" ¡°I know a good place to experiment with dangerous spells,¡± Bernt said, grabbing his notes. ¡°Do you guys have time to try it out?¡± *** Bernt cast his now well-practiced stone shaping spell, creating a smooth, hard surface along the rocky riverbank outside the city where he usually practiced his larger pyromancy spells. Hallan, clutching his robe around himself in the chilly winter weather, immediately crouched down and began to trace out runes in chalk. Therion was properly dressed for the weather, with heavy boots, a scarf and a warm, hooded robe. Hallan, on the other hand, was shivering in his thin brown librarian¡¯s robes, which obviously weren¡¯t meant for outdoor work. Taking pity on his friend, Bernt carefully cast a mundane torch spell just upwind, modulating the size as he shaped the spellform to put out a bit more heat. It wasn¡¯t very efficient, but it should help a little. Hallan looked up for a moment when he felt the warm breeze and examined the spell curiously for a second before returning to work. Therion gave Bernt a strange look and gestured at the perfectly level stone surface. ¡°Hey, since when did you get good at geomancy?¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t afford furniture when I moved to the Undercity,¡± Bernt admitted with a shrug. ¡°I spent a lot of time practicing.¡± He¡¯d kept trying to improve his work, even after the battle. It looked pretty good now, even if his couch was still uncomfortable. In the end, he hadn¡¯t bought anything in the way of furniture except a proper straw mattress for his stone bed. Just because he had a bit of gold to his name again didn¡¯t mean he could afford to spend it frivolously. Even now, he wasn¡¯t sure he could afford the robes he wanted before he left. They would be pricey even without the enchantments. By the time Grixit was done with them, he might be in debt. ¡°I guess that makes sense.¡± Therion said, a little dubiously. ¡°That has to slow down your development, though, right?¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°Eh. I have time ¨C I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m going to finish my augmentation yet, anyway.¡± No matter what he did, he would have to adjust his spellcasting at least once more ¨C and maybe many more times if Pollock was right about his sorcerous investiture. If he could keep growing it without ever reaching a bottleneck, he might still have a very long way to go. It didn¡¯t really make sense to spend all his time perfecting casting habits that would be obsolete each time he got a new investiture. That thought raised another question, though. ¡°So, why haven¡¯t you finished your augmentation yet?¡± Bernt asked carefully. Traditionally, mages waited a few years after graduating from the academy to begin the investment process. Once they started, though, they would normally finish the entire augmentation within weeks or months ¨C as long as they had the materials. But Bernt doubted that Therion would have any trouble paying¡­ so, had there been an accident with his last investiture? Therion smirked. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, are you worried about me?¡± ¡°No¡­?¡± Bernt said, unsure. ¡°I mean, I could tell you probably had some kind of scrying investiture back when we were in the dungeon. I can''t get a far sight spell to take at all, never mind holding it for a couple of minutes like you did. But I haven¡¯t seen or heard anything from you since. Shouldn¡¯t you be a magister by now?¡± ¡°Nah.¡± Therion said, shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s a scrying and force build. Classic precision combat architecture, sort of. A rare variant. The third investiture requires an artificial material ¨C a kind of arcane iron that compresses objects placed onto it. They use it to make metalworking implements at Bronzeforge Hall in the Confederacy. The problem is that it¡¯s proprietary. They don¡¯t allow any outside their borders, so I have to travel there to do the investiture. My dad was going to take me.¡± The mage threw a glance over his shoulder, back toward the city. ¡°Now¡­ well, it¡¯s going to have to wait.¡± ¡°You should consult with some of the smiths in the Crafters¡¯ Quarter.¡± Hallan suggested, finishing a rune and standing up to stretch his legs. ¡°Even if they don¡¯t have exactly what you¡¯re talking about, I¡¯d be surprised if they didn¡¯t have a reasonable analogue. Crafters don¡¯t like to let little things like laws or borders keep them from getting their hands on the best tools.¡± Therion shook his head, raising both hands in denial. ¡°Thanks, but no. I don¡¯t mind some risk, but I¡¯m not going to cut corners when it comes to my mana network. Some things are just too important. All this really costs me is time. It¡¯s not a big deal.¡± Bernt looked down at his right arm and the luminous shape of his sorcerous investiture underneath the skin. It was a risk. But sometimes risks could pay off, too. Still, there was a good reason most mages didn¡¯t experiment with their investitures. He couldn¡¯t fault Therion for playing it safe. Stepping up to Hallan¡¯s portal, Bernt crouched down next to it to examine the runes. The circle was small, only about two feet wide. That was probably a safety feature. Smaller portals couldn¡¯t do as much damage as big ones, right? If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°So, how do I use it?¡± he asked. ¡°Do I step inside?¡± ¡°No!¡± Hallan said quickly, holding out a hand to stop him as if he feared that Bernt was about to follow words with action. He cleared his throat. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s probably safe, but no. Nothing physical should be able to pass through in either direction, and it blocks most forms of energy, but why risk it? Just run a bit of your spirit into it and see what happens.¡± Cautiously, Bernt extended his left hand and pushed on his own spirit just as he normally did during an investment procedure. A glowing loop emerged from his palm and grew as he pushed it out further, moving his hand a bit to get it inside the circle. The thread of his spirit passed over the runes easily, but his hand was repelled with increasing force as he got closer to the area enclosed by the circle. Pushing back slightly to keep his hand from bouncing back, Bernt concentrated on his familiar bond. A small imp looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. It wasn¡¯t Jori ¨C this one was barely bigger than she had been when he¡¯d found her in the sewers over two years ago. It whimpered piteously as he flinched back in surprise, beating his wings to catch his balance. What was that? No, he hadn¡¯t flinched back. It was Jori. Hey, was she bullying a little imp? Indignation filled their familiar bond, even as Jori looked over her shoulder, wondering how Bernt had managed to reach them. Had Ed done something? Why would he bring Bernt here?! This place was terrible! And she wasn¡¯t bullying Ionathath here, she was saving her from an evil fiend. It wasn¡¯t her fault if the little imp didn¡¯t know what was good for her! Bernt¡¯s head spun. This wasn¡¯t right. The connection was much stronger than it should have been. He practically felt like he was Jori, and it didn''t seem to be going much better for her. This rune circle thing was going to take some getting used to. With effort, Bernt focused on his own surroundings ¨C the cold wind contrasting with the warmth of his torch spell, the rush of the river, and the odd sensation of the portal¡¯s built-in wards pushing back on his hand. It helped, drawing his mind and his sense of self back. ¡°Jori?¡± he said out loud. ¡°Just listen to my voice. Is that better?¡± ¡°Bernt!¡± Jori replied. ¡°What? Where are you? How are you doing that?¡± *** Ed conjured more water into his cup, took a sip and watched Jori drag another imp into their camp ¨C a cave of sorts that he¡¯d bored into the side of a low cliff. His tunneling spells were more than a little rusty, but after a few embarrassing failures, he¡¯d managed. Their six prisoners were penned up in a large stone cage he¡¯d made at the back of the space. Initially, all this geomancy felt like a waste of time and effort ¨C at least until Maladzhoth tried to fling some hellfire at him. He¡¯d suspended him upside down in the air and spun him around until he vomited bug bits for that. None of the others had tried anything since, calling him Great One and groveling when he got too close. Those that could talk chattered and bickered constantly while the smaller, more animalistic ones did their best to participate nonverbally, chittering, hissing and smacking at each other. They were downright collegial toward Jori, who had commended him for smacking sense into them. Despite their friendly attitude toward her, though, she insisted they needed to stay locked up tight until their blood fiend master was dead. Otherwise they would try to escape or attack. That was why Jori wanted to capture as many imps as possible before confronting Tallash ¨C they would be obligated to defend the fiend otherwise, and Jori wanted to minimize ¡°friendly¡± casualties. Ed knew that demons loved their rules and agreements, of course, but this all seemed a bit ridiculous. Jori was chatting happily at the tiny imp that she dragged along by the scruff of its neck. It chittered nervously as it caught sight of the others in the cell. ¡°Do you think they would let Oren sponsor her?¡± she asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know why the Thieves¡¯ Guild doesn¡¯t work with imps all the time. Ionathath is very sneaky!¡± ¡°What?¡± Ed squinted at her in confusion. ¡°The thieves don¡¯t have a formal charter, they¡¯re not a real guild. Nobody¡¯s going to let them sponsor anything. Is that what you¡¯re hoping is going to happen? Because it¡¯s not going to work.¡± Jori blinked at him. ¡°Huh? Oh. No, I was asking Bernt! Hey, maybe Josie will help ¨C she¡¯s suing the government in Teres for me! And the Adventurers¡¯ Guild likes me, too. It doesn¡¯t matter, first we get rid of Tallash. I can work out the rest later. Bernt will figure it out!¡± Ed stared at her for a moment before lifting a hand to rub at his temple. Great. Jori was losing it. She hadn¡¯t seemed that stressed¡­ was something messing with her mind? Jori paced in a circle. She shrugged, nodded and then grunted questioningly as if having a conversation with herself. ¡°Well, I mean, they are trying to kill you.¡± Jori finally said. ¡°Maladzoth said there¡¯s a reward! Maybe the shade thought it could scare you to death, or something. Humans can die from that, right?¡± Ed frowned at the imp. Demons were still attacking people in Halfbridge? He would have thought the Solicitors would be more thorough, now that the battle was over. Still, Bernt was well-equipped to deal with this sort of threat, as long as he didn¡¯t get caught with his pants down. ¡°Tell him to experiment with that banefire spell some more,¡± he said, trying a simple scrying spell to look for mind magic. Could she really be talking to Bernt from here? How would that work? ¡°Ask him what¡¯s new in Halfbridge.¡± ¡°I already did. He says that Nuros destroyed Loamfurth!¡± Jori said bluntly. ¡°And he ate all of the souls. Uriah is back with lots of refugees ¨C he was there!¡± Ed choked on his water, sending some spurting out of his nose. He coughed and raised a sleeve to wipe at his face. He¡¯d gotten the spell off first, thankfully, but it didn''t show any kind of mental interference. ¡°How?¡± he asked hoarsely. Also, why hadn¡¯t anyone updated him about this yet? Annoyed, he tried a different spell to look for environmental effects. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Jori replied, ¡°I guess he ran away in time?¡± ¡°No, not what I meant,¡± Ed replied, fixing her with a stern stare. The scrying spells weren''t showing him anything, but he needed to know if this was real. ¡°How are you talking with Bernt?¡± The little imp next to Jori tried to edge away from her, apparently intimidated by him, but Jori held it tight. She seemed completely relaxed. Happy, even. ¡°He has a circle of runes, and Therion is there and another mage ¨C but I don¡¯t know that one. It has a lot of symbols in it, not like the ones he normally makes. Anyway, it makes our soulbond work better! A lot better, actually. It¡¯s weird.¡± ¡°Your familiar bond? It¡¯s still working?¡± Ed didn¡¯t know what to make of that, but it sounded crazy. Familiar bonds relied on proximity, after all, and they weren''t even occupying the same spatial fabric. What the hell was that boy up to? ¡°What kind of rune circle?¡± With a hiss, the little imp tried to make a run for it again, but Jori caught it by its ear and stopped it cold. It growled and scratched at Jori, but she dodged and thumped it on the head. ¡°Right,¡± Ed grunted and pinned the other imps against the far wall with a force barrier before shaping an opening into the stone bars. ¡°Pack that one away with the others, then tell me everything.¡± Jori complied, dropping the resisting imp into the cell and hissing at it when it turned, looking for a way past her. Ed closed the opening again and Jori turned, continuing as if nothing had happened. ¡°He says it¡¯s a portal, like for summoning things, but the portal doesn¡¯t go anywhere? What?¡± As she spoke, Jori¡¯s tone became more and more skeptical. ¡°Bernt, I can¡¯t tell him that. That sounds stupid!¡± Ed shook his head. ¡°No, I can guess.¡± Summoning was, by definition, the practice of breaching planar barriers. It was obvious that he didn''t have access to a proper demon summoning ritual, so he''d punched a hole out of the mortal plane and then somehow patched a connection through to them. There was no telling how he''d pulled off that last part, but it wasn''t important right now. They were getting side-tracked. Ed craved information. ¡°He can tell us about it later. Ask him about the situation back home. What happened to Loamfurth, exactly? What are they doing about it? Do they know where Nuros will strike next?¡± 3.17 Legitimator Bernt stripped off his clothes in the chilly changing area, noting with some embarrassment that he smelled a bit under one arm. He¡¯d meant to get up earlier today and bathe before coming, but he¡¯d been up late, finally recreating the portal to nowhere in the back room of his house and talking to Jori. The opportunity to catch up had just been too tempting to pass up and they¡¯d spent hours well into the night doing just that. It had been good to learn more about Jori¡¯s project and how Ed was doing, even if he wasn¡¯t totally sure what he thought of it all. The imp didn¡¯t seem to have a clear plan for what to do with her cousins once she freed them. That worried him. What if she didn¡¯t want to leave them? Worse, what if she insisted on summoning all of them to the mortal plane? He remembered the sight of them bearing down on the defenders from above during the battle ¨C how one had torn out Bartholomew¡¯s throat. Could Jori control them all? For that matter, she was working to free them. So, would she even want to? Bernt didn¡¯t have answers, but he had concerns. The real surprise, though, had been learning that the demons had it out for him, personally. Not humans, not Halfbridge, but Bernt the Underkeeper. Apparently Nuros had put out a bounty for his head in some kind of misguided attempt to win Jori¡¯s loyalty, or at least her service or something. They thought killing him would break her pact with him, or her ¡°obligation¡±, whatever the difference was supposed to be. Of course, they didn¡¯t actually have a pact, or any kind of binding service agreement. Bernt was not a warlock. If he were, he would have already summoned Jori back. Of course, Jori had already reported all this to the Solicitors, who had not seen fit to share it with him in turn. Ed had, predictably, demanded that he get Iriala involved. Bernt wanted to avoid that if at all possible, though. For one, it would mean that everyone, including the Solicitors, would learn about his familiar bond ¨C likely sooner than later. That felt like too much to give up just to file a complaint about inadequate information sharing. Worse, if Iriala or Radast decided this was important enough, either or both might decide to interfere with his other plans so they could keep him here. Bernt had spent weeks cramming history, protocol and rhetorical skills, but one point had sunk in more than all the others, reinforced by Iriala at every opportunity. Politics happened everywhere, all the time ¨C even and especially between allies. Right now, he was just a tool both Iriala and Radast were playing with, even if he couldn¡¯t see exactly what they were doing. In their games, his goals and interests weren¡¯t a factor. He could accept that and allow himself to be moved as a piece on a board, or he could join the game himself. Carefully. The familiar bond was a hidden advantage ¨C maybe their best. It had to serve his interests, and Jori¡¯s first. He couldn¡¯t just give it up for free, and especially not now. Bernt would be appointed as a legitimator soon, and leaving not long after that. He would conduct his research at the Phoenix Reaches, scour every library on the way for useful knowledge and watch Torvald¡¯s back while he did it. Going forward, he would build a new class of sorcerer mages, both in and outside the guild, and he was going to do it personally. Pollock had the right of it ¨C this was where he could make the biggest impact, and where he could build the power and influence he needed to get and keep the Solicitors off Jori¡¯s back permanently. He just needed to work out how. Sighing to himself, Bernt fastened his belt over the warm wool robe, stepped out, and looked into the mirror. He shrugged his shoulders and held his arms out to check the length of the sleeves. It was the first time he¡¯d ever had clothes custom-fitted, and they sat much more comfortably than his Underkeepers¡¯ uniform. The robes were still gray ¨C his status as an Underkeeper was what qualified him to be a legitimator, after all ¨C but they had a lighter shade than his uniform with darker accents around the hem. Additionally, he now had two narrow red stripes embroidered on his sleeves to represent his two investitures. Those wouldn¡¯t do anything meaningful for his status at court, but it was traditional. It was going to be a formal event, after all. Hopefully, he could swap them for the braided stripes of a magister when he got back. ¡°Perfect!¡± the elderly tailor said, stepping up to examine him. ¡°Now, you¡¯re going to want to be careful with these seams here, alright? They¡¯re temporary, so your enchanter can open them up to get at the leather lining on the torso. If you pick at them out in the street, they¡¯ll come apart.¡± Bernt smiled at the man and gave him a little bow. ¡°Thank you for getting this done so quickly. I really appreciate it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s very nice, and you¡¯re welcome,¡± the tailor said, peering at him over his glasses, ¡°do feel free to express your appreciation monetarily as well, though. I trust that you¡¯re satisfied?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Bernt said, retrieving his bag to count the coins out for him while doing his best not to let the pain show on his face. Sixteen gold marks and thirty-eight silver. He wasn¡¯t sure he would ever get used to spending that kind of money, but this was what it was for. Besides, it was a fair price. The tailor had really outdone himself, adding a warm hood, making adjustments and layering leather under the wool lining to provide additional protection. Once Grixit got his hands on them, these robes might provide even better protection than his work clothes ¨C despite looking better, being far more comfortable and weighing less than half as much. The goblin shaman had insisted that the tailor use sheep leather, which had added to the cost, but Bernt wasn¡¯t going to argue with the man. Grixit¡¯s work had yet to let him down, and he was downright affordable compared to traditional enchanters. Regardless, enchantments were a concern for later. Offering the tailor a smile and a nod, he gathered his things and left. He was due at the castle in less than two hours, and he still needed to take a bath. *** The gates were open when Bernt arrived at the castle, though one of the guards stopped him to look at his letter of invitation before he could enter. He¡¯d expected the place to be a hub of activity, but it seemed no busier than the last time he¡¯d been here ¨C when Ed had taken them there to report the kobold incursion. Had that really only been a few months ago? The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. As he crossed the courtyard, he was met by a vaguely familiar-looking young man with ink stains on his fingers. ¡°Underkeeper Bernard, right? ¡± the man said, looking him over critically. My name is Art, I¡¯m the count¡¯s secretary.¡± Bernt nodded in confirmation and he smiled politely. ¡°Good. Please, follow me. I¡¯ll be briefing you on what to expect.¡± Without saying anything, Bernt followed the skinny little man inside and down a corridor to the left. A few moments later, they entered a modestly sized room where three other people, two men and a woman, were already waiting for them. Not bothering with introductions, Art cleared his throat to get everyone¡¯s attention and addressed the room. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re all very curious why you¡¯ve been summoned to appear before the court today. It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been selected to represent the Count and the Kingdom of Besermark as legitimators to the Invigilation. If you¡¯re not familiar, that means ¨C¡± Bernt stopped paying attention to Art¡¯s explanation of what a legitimator was and examined the other people in the room. They were all humans, which Bernt thought was a little odd. If he remembered his academy lessons correctly, humans made up about half of the Beseri populations ¨C he would have at least expected a gnome or a dwarf. It seemed that Torvald had been right. They really wouldn¡¯t have appointed Nirlig, even if he¡¯d recommended him. Taking a closer look, Bernt realized that he recognized one of the men ¨C Leirin, the archdruid who he¡¯d met in the dungeon and who had created the vines that lit up the Undercity. He barely recognized him with his hair oiled and wearing an embroidered jacket, rather than the long off-white tunics that druids normally wore. Wasn¡¯t he a high-ranking adventurer? How was he a government employee? Next to him sat a nervous-looking younger man, though he was probably still a few years older than Bernt. He was dressed expensively and had the look of someone who didn¡¯t spend much time outdoors ¨C pale and skinny, not unlike Hallan. He had a pen and paper out, and his eyes were focused on Art, hanging onto every word as though the gods themselves were speaking to him. Every few seconds, he would look down to scribble something on the paper before focusing his attention back on the secretary. Last was the only woman in the room. She wore a military uniform, marking her as one of Arice¡¯s people ¨C an officer, judging by the stripes on her shoulder, though she couldn¡¯t have been much older than the fidgety man next to her. The contrast couldn¡¯t have been clearer. She sat as straight as a lantern pole, with no expression on her face at all. There were some stripes on her shoulder, which Bernt knew marked her as some kind of officer, but nothing on her sleeves, so she wasn¡¯t a member of any specialized corps like mages, rangers or berserkers would be. ¡°You will receive papers allowing you to draw your normal salaries, as well as additional funds for expenses and a small stipend from Beseri banks for the duration of your service.¡± Art said, drawing Bernt¡¯s attention. ¡°Once you accept, you will be committed for a term of five years, or until the crown dismisses you, or until your charge departs the kingdom without an express intent to return. If any of you intend to turn down this appointment, you should inform me now. We have other options in reserve. Denying the count to his face would be¡­ unfortunate.¡± Bernt looked around. Nobody said anything. Art nodded and cleared his throat again. ¡°Good. In that case, please follow me to be presented to the court. They should be ready for us in a matter of minutes.¡± *** ¡°Wizard Bernard, of the Underkeepers.¡± When the doors opened in front of him, Bernt¡¯s legs felt oddly shaky, but he forced himself to move when he heard Art announce him. He¡¯d called him wizard, just as Iriala had recently started doing. It sounded odd to him, somehow. Were they doing it to make him sound less like a simple Underkeeper, or to emphasize his association with the Mages¡¯ Guild? The room was full of people, at least fifty of them. All of them were watching him, and for a moment, it made Bernt forget what he was supposed to do. Mechanically, he stepped forward, palms sweating as he approached the Count. The old man sat front and center in a tall chair, looking at him while leaning to the side as someone else whispered something to him. Letting out a slow breath, Bernt tried to ignore the audience and focused on what he was supposed to do. He bowed at the waist and waited for the count to begin speaking before he stood up straight again. He¡¯d been listening through the door as the two legitimators before him were announced, and the ceremony felt at least somewhat familiar now. As the count repeated the same words once more, he managed to relax a bit. ¡°Underkeeper Bernard. You are hereby appointed by my authority as the lord of Halfbridge to represent the interests of the crown as a legitimator to the Invigilation ¨C to accompany, validate and document the actions of Torvald, a Paladin of Ruzinia and representative of the Invigilation. Do you accept this charge?¡± ¡°I accept.¡± Bernt said formally, and followed up with another bow as protocol dictated. Standing up straight again, he realized that he¡¯d forgotten to find Torvald in the crowd as he entered the room. He was supposed to go stand next to him, symbolically taking on his task immediately. Trying not to be too obvious, he scanned the crowd to his left and right. He found Iriala first, who met his eyes before looking meaningfully to Bernt¡¯s left. Turning, Bernt found the paladin just behind him and to his left, and stepped over to take his place. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure if the crowd had noticed his moment of hesitation, or if they were just polite enough to ignore it. Either way, his part in this was over, for now, and he was thankful for it. Torvald gave him a friendly nod and turned back to look at the count. He seemed totally relaxed, even though he guessed the paladin must have just gone through a similar introduction. If this was what the lives of politicians and nobles was like, he would take cleaning sewers over it any day of the week. Across from him stood Archdruid Leirin, who was apparently also the Count¡¯s agricultural advisor, and Captain Emata, who turned out to be a junior tactician. By the looks of the priests standing next to them, they¡¯d been assigned to representatives of the temples of Eyeli and Noruk, respectively. ¡°Baron Regin of Hilltower.¡± Art announced, opening the doors once more to admit the last of their number. The fidgety young man entered, going through the same motions that Bernt had just completed. He would never have guessed that he was a noble. For that matter, he wondered what kind of political maneuvering had put him in this position. He certainly didn¡¯t seem like someone who wanted to follow a priest around on a potentially dangerous winter journey that might well carry them all to war at some point. Listening with half an ear, Bernt heard the count assign him Angjou, the high priestess of Balarian. ¡°In light of the fall of Loamfurth, as well as the Duergar¡¯s recent aggression against us here, King Renias¡¯ has pledged his cooperation with the Invigilation as it seeks to renew the exercise of its ancient mandate. Representatives of the four temples have been Chosen here and from all corners of the continent to meet at the Sacral Peaks.¡± Count Narald paused for effect, making eye contact with the crowd. ¡°There, six weeks from today, they will determine a united course, with the aim to bind all mankind to our common purpose ¨C to protect ourselves, our neighbors, and all of humanity against the depredations of demons and those who would wield them against us.¡± Six weeks. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure exactly how long it would take them to reach the Sacral Peaks, but he was sure they would have to leave soon. It was winter, and they would need to be prepared and leave time for unfavorable conditions. Still, it felt good to finally have a clear course. It was done. Bernt was officially a legitimator. 3.18 Expedition Bernt tied a bit of string around the neat stack of folders on his table and dropped the packet into his bag on top of his bedroll and a carefully wrapped pack of minor healing potions. They contained neatly organized notes from Hallan explaining his portal to nowhere, the experiments he meant to attempt at the Phoenix Reaches, and a ream of haphazard notes on some of the finer points of diplomatic protocol that he might need when interacting with foreign priests and whoever might be sent to accompany them as legitimators from their home countries. That done, Bernt sat down on his stone couch and nervously tapped his foot. Grixit should be here by now, shouldn¡¯t he? He needed that robe and the goblin was cutting it awfully close. Raising a hand, Bernt traced out the spellform for a clock cantrip ¨C the only scrying spell he''d ever practiced enough to cast reliably. A line of glowing blue light manifested in front of him, pointing toward the sun. It was nearly horizontal, which meant it was dawn. He still had a little time. It had been nearly a week since the ceremony ¨C plenty of time to prepare. He''d even managed to check in with the Solicitors about that damned shade, though they predictably didn''t have any news for him on that front. Despite that, the time had flown by far too quickly. Between packing, doing Iriala¡¯s reading, preparing his experiments, and practicing Hallan''s new portal to get in contact with Jori, there hadn¡¯t been much time to keep everyone in the loop. When he¡¯d gone to the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters to talk to Fiora about his upcoming journey, nearly everyone had been out working. Kustov had been there and promised to pass along a message, which was someting. The dwarf had also made him a stone teapot and a few cups to take with him, which Bernt appreciated. His own stone shaping wasn¡¯t up to such delicate work. He rose to pace around the room, and had barely managed a single circuit when someone knocked. He hurried to open it, yanking the door open with a bit more force than was necessary. ¡°Morning!¡± Grixit said cheerfully and stepped inside, pulling a package out from under his arm. It was his new robe, neatly folded. The goblin held up a hand to shade his eyes against the glare of Bernt¡¯s bright lighting. ¡°What¡¯s going on in here, are you afraid of the dark?¡± ¡°How did it go?¡± Bernt asked, ignoring the question. ¡°Is it going to be safe for me to cast manaburn?¡± He didn''t want to admit it to Grixit, but he was still concerned about having that shade come at him again. Whatever the warlocks said about the actual danger, he could still feel something breathing down his neck whenever he walked around outside. It was creepy. He wasn¡¯t going to be able to relax until he was out of this city and away from whatever enemy demons might still be lurking in the shadows. ¡°It should be safe,¡± Grixit said, shaking out the robe as if to show Bernt his work. ¡°I treated it with cinder tree sap. It can¡¯t burn an enchantment if it can¡¯t reach the material, right?¡± It looked exactly the same as before ¨C not that Bernt had expected any visual changes. ¡°So, you got the protective enchantment on it and it resists all kinds of fire? Do I have to activate it to use it, like the amulet? What¡¯s it going to cost?¡± Grixit smiled his best professional smile and held out his hand. ¡°Fifteen gold marks and your keys as long as you¡¯re gone, like we agreed.¡± Bernt rolled his eyes and handed the goblin a small stack of coins and the keys to his house. He wasn¡¯t sure what the goblin wanted to borrow his home for ¨C maybe he¡¯d try opening a shop in here. He''d be gone for a few months, at least. ¡°Right, not what I meant,¡± he clarified, ¡°what about the other price?¡± Grixit¡¯s enchantments were much cheaper than the work of conventional enchanters ¨C but they came with an additional cost. The spirits he used to empower items always demanded something for themselves. Bernt¡¯s amulet had to be recharged with drops of his own blood, while his mountain lion belt made use of his senses to recapture a sense of life for itself. He hadn¡¯t noticed any significant side-effects from it so far, though Grixit had warned him that overusing the belt could influence him in unpredictable ways. ¡°You have to feed it herbs,¡± Grixit said, ¡°about a pound per week. It¡¯ll work continuously. Not much help against getting stabbed in the back if you have to activate it all the time.¡± Bernt narrowed his eyes at the goblin, trying to decide if he was joking. ¡°Herbs?¡± ¡°Parsley, yarrow, sage, you know? It shouldn¡¯t matter, though it might take a bit of hunting in the winter. The protection will weaken if you don¡¯t feed it enough.¡± ¡°Okay, but why herbs?¡± Grixit grinned. ¡°Well. One of our tributary tribes, the nomadic Ibn-Dirin, follow a ram-spirit around the Urgan Highlands. According to the lore, he¡¯s got an iron hide. We work with it for some of our own armor back in Vael Dirin, too. He likes herbs, so that''s what he asks for. It''s not actually as tough as iron, but it should work a lot better than any conventional leather. Also, it¡¯s sort of alive now, so it¡¯ll heal from most kinds of damage, though you might end up with scars on the robe.¡± Giving the goblin a skeptical look, Bernt accepted the robe and opened it up, checking the seams. As far as he could tell, they were completely gone. Somehow, the entire thing had grown together into a single piece, with the leather in the middle. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°How do I, uh¡­ feed it?¡± Bernt asked, fervently hoping it didn¡¯t have a mouth somewhere. Grixit shrugged. ¡°Just wrap it around your greens and leave it overnight. Or if you¡¯re wearing it, just stuff them up your sleeve or something. Ibn is a spirit, he¡¯ll figure it out.¡± That didn¡¯t sound too bad, he supposed. And being able to repair itself was going to be incredibly useful while traveling ¨C especially if they had to fight. ¡°Thanks,¡± he said. ¡°Mind waiting for a minute while I change? I want to drop off my Underkeepers¡¯ uniform on the way up.¡± *** Bernt arrived at the docks a half-hour later, his staff thumping on the wooden walkway as he made his way out to the boat. Fiora had insisted he keep it ¨C along with his robe ¨C as spare equipment. He was still technically employed as an Underkeeper, after all. It wasn''t terribly useful, seeing as he could only use the staff with his left hand. His sorcerous investiture wouldn¡¯t let him channel mana outside his body without simultaneously activating it as a spell, but he hadn¡¯t had the heart to argue. There was a small crowd of important-looking people standing on the dock in front of the riverboat, including several priests, Iriala and Branchmaster Ambrose from the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. Bernt didn¡¯t recognize the others, but they were all dressed expensively. Torvald was standing off to the side with Guard Commander Righmond and a middle-aged woman, probably his mother. They were both clucking over him, and Bernt could see even from a distance that the paladin was embarrassed. Still, he gave both parents a hug, and Bernt could hear him making reassuring noises at them as he turned to board. ¡°You have everything?¡± Iriala asked, stepping forward to intercept him as he approached. He nodded, and she reached into her pocket, pulling out a carved crystal coin ¨C some sort of token. ¡°Remember to keep me updated. Just present this at any Mages¡¯ Guild you come across and they¡¯ll be able to relay a message directly to me. Once you get to the Peaks, you¡¯ll need to hike down to Norhold periodically. I need to know if anything unexpected happens, and I¡¯ll update you with any news about your demon.¡± Bernt nodded, accepting the token with a smile and a nod. He wasn¡¯t reliant on Iriala ¨C or Radast, for that matter ¨C for updates about Jori and Ed, but keeping in contact with the guild here could only benefit everyone. Maybe he could send updates to his friends, while he was at it. Normally, sending messages via the scryers was expensive ¨C the number that any one scryer could receive in a day was limited, after all. They had to scry specific message rooms in whatever places they were responsible for, find the subsection meant for their guild and then manually copy the messages posted for that day before sending them out to their intended recipients by messenger. It was an elegant solution for long distance communication, but it had limits. ¡°Thanks,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll let you know when we get to Fergefield.¡± ¡°Good luck,¡± Iriala said, clapping him on the back before turning back to her conversation with Ambrose. Bernt followed Torvald onto the boat, noting as he stepped onto the deck how large it was. He¡¯d expected something more like an oversized rowboat, designed to carry people, but this was a merchant vessel with a broad deck over a voluminous hold. Porters stowed and tied down goods while travelers bustled around, trying not to get in the way while they found somewhere to sit. Pulling his hood up against the chill, Bernt hoped that they¡¯d leave enough room for them to get out of the wind belowdecks. Otherwise, this leg of the trip was going to be very uncomfortable. Torvald sat down against a gunnel, and Bernt put his bag down next to him before settling down himself. He let the staff fall into the crook of his elbow so he could bury his hands in his sleeves as he pulled his hood down over his face. It was too damned cold out here. Bernt didn¡¯t think anything of it when he heard steps approaching them. At least until something kicked his foot. He flinched back and looked up to find Nirlig giving them a sharp-toothed grin. ¡°Hey you two, I was starting to wonder if you were going to make it!¡± ¡°Nirlig? What are you doing here?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be at work?¡± The goblin scoffed. ¡°That would imply employment. I quit!¡± Only then did Bernt realize that Nirlig wasn¡¯t wearing his gray gambeson, like usual. Instead, he wore a similar-looking design in an undyed dirty tan color. His helmet was a bit rusty, but his spear and boots looked brand new. ¡°Torvald talked me into signing up with the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. Turns out, there weren¡¯t actually a lot of volunteers looking to join a low-ranked escort quest across the country in the middle of winter. Not ones that can actually fight, anyway. Both of us got in!¡± ¡°Both of you?¡± Torvald asked, looking around. ¡°Where¡¯s the other guy?¡± ¡°Uriah!¡± Nirlig called over his shoulder. ¡°Come on!¡± The other mage uncurled from where he¡¯d apparently been napping on the other side of the boat and shuffled over. Bernt had no idea how he managed to get comfortable enough to sleep, but that was a trick he was going to have to learn. He looked much better than he had when Bernt had last seen him, with new robes and carrying a backpack with a thick blanket. ¡°Torvald, Bernt,¡± he said, nodding to each of them in greeting, though he eyed Bernt a little suspiciously. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re all going demon hunting together.¡± Uriah had been... unfriendly when he¡¯d first learned about Jori. Since his return from Loamfurth, though, that wariness had blossomed into hate. It was a little unsettling. ¡°Man, I hope not,¡± Nirlig said sincerely. ¡°Fighting demons is awful with the burning blood and the rapid healing. I hope this goes smoothly. I¡¯ve never been south of here before ¨C it¡¯s all going to be new.¡± Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°There are still spies lurking in the city. I¡­ saw a shade a while ago. It even tried to take a poke at me. We should assume that they know what we¡¯re doing.¡± Uriah¡¯s eyes flicked back and forth across the deck, as if he thought he might find one hiding in plain sight right in front of them. ¡°I¡¯ll be ready for them,¡± he mumbled. ¡°They¡¯re going to regret¡­ everything. I''ll make them.¡± ¡°Ehm, Uriah,¡± Bernt said. ¡°Listen. I have a spell you might want to learn ¨C banefire. It burns demons, including shades. I don¡¯t think you can do anything about them with your hydromancy.¡± Torvald leaned back against the gunnel. ¡°I think Nirlig has the right idea. We''re as prepared as we''re going to get, and there¡¯s no sense in worrying over an uncertain future. We should make the best of the time we have. Come on, there¡¯s four of us. We can play a round of dice.¡± Nirlig sat down eagerly, producing dice from his pocket as if he¡¯d been waiting for this, along with a fistful of coppers for betting. Hesitantly, Uriah followed suit, sitting down across from Bernt. As he dug for loose change in his pocket, though, he met Bernt¡¯s eyes and nodded. 3.19 A Call To Adventure Uriah pulled a face as gray banefire shot from his outstretched hand, splashing down not far away in the wake of the boat. The spell was a bit wispy, and it didn¡¯t have the proper fireball shape, coming out more like a diffuse stream of flames. Still, it would work in a pinch. ¡°That was good!¡± Bernt said. ¡°You just have to twist the shaping runes inward a bit more on the back end so the flames are all pointing toward the center. That¡¯ll help it hold the denser ball shape when it¡¯s moving.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be condescending!¡± Uriah complained, frustration clear in his voice. ¡°I saw the spell just as well as you did ¨C it was crap.¡± Bernt frowned at the other mage, surprised at his outburst. ¡°I¡¯m not being condescending. The spell will work just fine as it is right now. You just won¡¯t get very good range on it, and it might not kill a demon outright. But the first time I hit a possessed warlock, I didn¡¯t use a proper fireball shape either. It worked fine.¡± ¡°Hmph,¡± Uriah grunted. ¡°Still too slow, though. Damned fire spells don¡¯t make any sense.¡± ¡°So practice it,¡± Bernt said and rolled his eyes as he turned away to dig around in his bag. He wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d expected, but this wasn¡¯t it. Uriah was a terribly slow caster, likely due to his failed investiture as much as the unfamiliar spellwork, but he wasn¡¯t a slow learner. On the contrary, it had only taken him two days to produce cold fire, and his first real attempt at Bernt¡¯s banefire spell was at least a partial success. Despite that, the man was incurably self-critical to the point that it was beginning to get on Bernt¡¯s nerves. He treated anything less than instant mastery as a damning failure. It was an attitude Bernt couldn¡¯t understand. All spells went wrong at first, and Uriah had to know that. Working out the kinks was a normal part of the learning process, and one that normally took days or weeks depending on the complexity of the spell and one''s own familiarity with similar magic. Finding his stone teapot, Bernt held it out to the surly hydromancer, who summoned a stream of water from the river to fill it without further prompting. Visualizing the appropriate spellform, Bernt set the water boiling and set it down on the deck for Nirlig to sprinkle in a few tea leaves. The goblin did so, barely interrupting his conversation with Torvald. Making tea had become a rote process for the group over the past few days. Tea was practically the only way to stay warm, hunkered down in the open air on this stupid boat in the middle of winter. Predictably, most of the space belowdecks was used for cargo, leaving barely enough room for the Invigilation''s priests to get out of the weather. Torvald probably would have been allowed to join them, but he stayed on the deck with the adventurers and the legitimators. Most likely, he didn''t want people to think he was soft. Bernt hadn''t asked. Setting down a handful of cups, Bernt poured and picked one up for himself. He sipped carefully as the others grabbed theirs, doing his best not to scald his tongue and tuning out the conversation. It was too early to argue about the proper way to season catfish and he didn¡¯t care, regardless. They¡¯d been traveling downriver for nearly three days and should arrive in Fergefield soon. Progress had been slow, because the boat moved barely faster than a brisk walk. That was mostly because of the season, from what Bernt had gathered. The river ran low during the winter months, revealing rocks and sandbanks that could damage or ground a vessel like theirs. The captain, a merchant sailor named Kelreig, maneuvered them carefully downstream, dropping anchor each evening when it became too dark to see. As bad as it was, it was still a far more comfortable mode of travel than walking or bouncing around in a wagon. After today, that was what they would have to do. The fastest route to the Sacral Peaks was overland from Fergefield. From there, the road would take them another fifty leagues or so southward to Locholme before swinging around through Gobford toward Goldwater and eventually Norhold, which sat in a broad valley bordering both Madzhur and the Sacral Peaks. It wasn¡¯t exactly a straight route, but it circumvented large swathes of mostly untamed wilderness in Besermark¡¯s central highlands. Finishing his cup, Bernt stood up to stretch his legs. He squeezed past a few crates and a few adventurers, making his way toward the prow of the boat. He wasn¡¯t sure how much further they had to go, but maybe he¡¯d already be able to see Fergefield in the distance. It was smaller than Halfbridge, but Bernt had never been to another city. Who knew what he might find there? Trying to peer through the thin mists ahead, Bernt almost tripped over a pair of booted legs that stuck out from behind a crate. He caught himself, ¡°Hey,¡± a woman¡¯s voice said, weakly, ¡°watch it!¡± ¡°Sorry!¡± Bernt said automatically before pausing to take a closer look. She sounded terrible. ¡°Are you alright?¡± The huddled form was wrapped in a thick cloak, though a few strands of black hair escaped from the hood. She clutched at a wooden bucket that reeked of sour vomit. ¡°Go away!¡± After a second¡¯s hesitation, though, her head jerked up. ¡°Wait, Bernt? What are you doing here?¡± When he saw her face, Bernt had to stop himself from flinching back. It was Elyn, and she looked terrible. Her face was haggard with deep dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was disheveled and skin looked sickly pale, nearly translucent. He hadn¡¯t seen the half-elf, or most of his adventurer friends, in over a month. ¡°What?¡± Bernt said, confused. ¡°What are you doing here? What happened to you? Did the others come, too?¡± ¡°No,¡± she replied, letting her head fall back against another crate behind her. ¡°They¡¯re taking a break over winter. They have other jobs to do, and they can afford it, regardless. But there¡¯s not a lot of work for bards in Halfbridge right now, after the fighting. Nobody has money for entertainers, and every desperate refugee in Halfbridge is flooding the guild, desperate to make a few silvers to feed their families. All the local quests are gone the moment they''re posted, even the dangerous ones. I can¡¯t afford to sit on my hands until the spring thaw.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Bernt said. ¡°That makes sense. I got picked as one of the legitimators ¨C the one for Torvald, the Ruzinian.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. He hadn¡¯t really considered what would happen to someone in Elyn¡¯s position now. Most of his adventurer friends had other jobs. Sort of. He couldn¡¯t validate Oren¡¯s thievery as a job, even in his head. But Syrah was a consecrated priest, and Furin worked as a part-time smith in the new Crafter¡¯s Quarter. Therion was rich¡­ ¡°Wouldn¡¯t the others have helped you out until a better quest came along?¡± Bernt asked carefully. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s pretty clear you don¡¯t like traveling on boats¡­¡± ¡°Therion, you mean,¡± Elyn said, her miserable expression twisting into something faintly annoyed. ¡°He offered, sure. Elves are practically allergic to sailing, and it¡¯s not much better for me. But no. I don¡¯t need charity like that in a relationship. It¡¯s not healthy.¡± The half-elf stopped for a moment, going pale and breathing heavily over the bucket before letting out a ragged burp. ¡°You have to stand on your own feet,¡± she grated, ¡°or you might find that you can¡¯t walk away anymore. Dangerous, for a bard especially.¡± Bernt nodded. He could understand that attitude. Therion was a good person, and he tried, but he just didn¡¯t know. How could he? When you were in need, all gifts came with strings attached. Some were meant kindly, but that didn¡¯t mean the strings weren¡¯t there ¨C just that no one was pulling on them. It had taken him a long time to accept that it was worth it to accept help anyway, sometimes. Still, he would never fault someone for being wary. ¡°Hey,¡± Elyn said, looking left and right. ¡°If you¡¯re here with all those stuffy old priests, where¡¯s Jori? You didn¡¯t leave her in Halfbridge by herself, did you? I haven¡¯t seen her in forever!¡± ¡°Ah, no.¡± Bernt said carefully. ¡°That¡¯s kind of a long story, actually. Did you hear the rumors about her dragging Nuros back to the hells?¡± She shook her head. ¡°No¡­ what? What are you talking about?¡± Bernt gave her a skeptical look. How could a bard have missed a rumor like this? Sensing his confusion, Elyn shook her head and continued. ¡°I¡¯ve been away. I went to visit my mother early in the siege. Figured it would be a good time to be gone. I only got back two days before the boat cast off. Barely managed to get the quest and pack. There wasn''t time to catch up on all the latest gossip." ¡°Oh.¡± Bernt said. ¡°Well, then I guess I have a story to tell you. Why don¡¯t I help you back to the others and I can fill you in.¡± Elyn frowned at him. ¡°What others?¡± *** Bernt helped Elyn toward the stern of the boat where he introduced her to the rest of the group. She nodded shallowly to each of them, still clinging miserably to her bucket. Nirlig, pleased to make the acquaintance of a real adventurer with ranks, kindly offered her a small bag of peppermint tea, which was apparently supposed to relieve nausea. ¡°My mother packed up enough herbs for me to supply an apothecary, and I didn¡¯t have the heart to fight her over it,¡± he explained. ¡°They¡¯re mostly meant for tea ¨C it¡¯s a cultural thing.¡± Considering all the things Lin could do with her teas, Bernt was curious to see it work. Pulling out his teapot once more, he brewed some up for the sick bard. As it turned out, it worked ¨C at least in the sense that Elyn now sat in a miserable heap holding her cup of tea rather than the bucket. It wasn¡¯t an enormous improvement, but the half-elf made her appreciation clear, drinking one cup after another as if hoping to boost the effect. By the time they arrived in Fergefield, Bernt had managed to catch Elyn up on what had happened to both himself and Jori during and since the battle. ¡°They sent Jori to the hells?!¡± she cried, aghast. ¡°Those monsters ¨C she didn¡¯t even do anything wrong! She was helping people. What¡¯s going to happen to her little interns?¡± The genuine outrage and dismay in her voice tugged on Bernt''s own emotions. It felt oddly cathartic. Many of his friends had sympathized, and a few had offered help, but they hadn¡¯t really understood. Even those who might have, like the Underkeepers who had worked with Jori every day, had treated her banishment like something regrettable, but also inevitable. It was personal for Elyn, and her reaction resonated with the anger that had been simmering in Bernt¡¯s chest over the entire affair for weeks. He wanted to tell her about the familiar bond and the portal, but he stopped himself, clenching his jaw. The others were his friends, and he could probably talk to them now that they''d left Halfbridge behind. But Uriah¡­ well, he had a problem with demons, and he clearly didn¡¯t care that Jori had been fighting on their side. Bernt would have to get the man''s measure before saying anything in front of him. ¡°Josie is in Teres, suing the Solicitors on her behalf,¡± he told her instead. ¡°She thinks she might be able to argue that they¡¯re not allowed to deport a government employee.¡± Elyn shook her head at that. ¡°Solicitors? I don¡¯t know, Bernt. That could take forever, if it works at all.¡± She scowled pensively, before looking at the others in the group, and then back at Bernt, before adding, in a careful tone, ¡°We should come up with some other ideas, for when we get back.¡± "I''m sure it''ll work out," Torvald replied with a reassuring smile. "Josie''s very smart. If she says she can get Jori back, then she can." Uriah raised an eyebrow with a frown, but he didn¡¯t say anything. Once the boat was moored at the city¡¯s docks, they helped her down to the pier and let her catch her breath for a minute as the others disembarked and began moving into the city. One of the other priests, an older woman named Surin, stopped to tell Torvald where they were going to be staying. ¡°Ah.¡± Torvald said, shaking his head. ¡°No, thanks. I¡¯ll join you tomorrow morning for our departure with my legitimator at the south gate. The goddess has a task for me here, and I doubt I¡¯ll make it back to the city before night.¡± Surin frowned at him, but then shrugged. ¡°Ruzinia always does work her people to the bone. Never saw the appeal, myself. You should take some of the guards along, make them earn their coins. They''re here for our safety ¨C that includes yours. We¡¯ll see you in the morning, alright?¡± Uriah watched the priestess go with a dead expression before sighing, mumbling to himself so quietly that Bernt could barely make it out. ¡°Well. Honest work, at least, right?¡± Nirlig turned to Torvald, clearly excited. ¡°You have a quest for us? What is it? Why didn''t you tell us before?¡± The paladin shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Oh. No, I mean, you don¡¯t have to come ¨C the call was for me. Bernt only has to go because he¡¯s my legitimator.¡± Elyn, now looking like a completely different person with her skin returned to her usual shade and standing tall, strapped a small backpack on and started walking, waving them along. ¡°Come on! We¡¯re all going. Can¡¯t let a bunch of green first-rankers get themselves killed on their first day outside.¡± ¡°Hey, wait!¡± Torvald said. ¡°You don¡¯t even know where to go.¡± Elyn turned around, walking backwards and pointing to her left. ¡°That way! There¡¯s a bakery by the west gate with the best cinnamon buns in the entire country. First Lesson: Never break into your travel rations when there¡¯s real food to be had!¡± Nirlig slapped Bernt on the shoulder and followed, already digging in his pockets for loose change. His pockets jingled heavily. Nirlig, as they''d all learned, had a phoenix''s luck when it came to dice. Bernt was sure Elyn''s bakery wouldn¡¯t measure up to a proper cabbage wrap ¨C he wasn¡¯t really much for sweet food ¨C but it did sound like something he should at least try. Besides, Bernt needed a minute to drop into the Mages'' Guild to notify Iriala of their arrival. This would buy him a little time. He exchanged a glance with Torvald and shrugged. The paladin sighed in defeat, and they followed, trailing a stoic-looking Uriah behind them. 3.20 Side Quest Bernt went to find the Fergefield Mages¡¯ Guild while the others went ahead to the bakery. The receptionist raised an eyebrow at Bernt¡¯s scrawled note, but she agreed to submit it to the scryers when he pulled out Iriala¡¯s token. Ideally, Bernt would have liked to spend the day here, looking through the library to see if they had any interesting texts about pyromancy, sorcery, or even elemental summoning. Unfortunately, that wasn¡¯t going to work out today. He''d have to try to make time on his return trip. Torvald, now an official representative of the Invigilation, was leaving the city on a mission from his goddess. Bernt, as his official legitimator, had no choice but to go with him. Not that he really minded. It might be interesting to see what a paladin of Ruzinia did on a regular day. By the time Bernt found the west gate and the bakery where Elyn had taken the others, they were already coming back out. While the others carried one or two buns with a swirl of dark brown in the center, making appreciative noises as they sampled them, Nirlig stepped out the door with an entire armful. He looked around in panic as one near the top of the pile came loose, nearly tumbling to the floor. Torvald came to his rescue, pulling a large handkerchief out of his pocket. He wrapped as many as he could fit into it and presented the package to the goblin, who crammed what remained into his mouth. ¡°They¡¯re even better than they smell,¡± he raved around a mouthful as Bernt approached. ¡°If happiness had a flavor, then this would be it. Bernt, you have to try these, I got you a couple. You can thank me later.¡± Suppressing a smile, Bernt accepted the proffered bun, nodding in thanks. It was different from the ones they had in Halfbridge ¨C softer, for one, and with a nice caramelized glaze on the outside. The flavor was sweet and it was still warm. They practically melted in your mouth. Nirlig watched him intently. ¡°Well?¡± ¡°They¡¯re good.¡± Bernt said, taking another bite. ¡°Do you think they have fresh bread?¡± ¡°Good?¡± Nirlig repeated, appalled. ¡°Just good? What is wrong with you?¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°I like them ¨C they¡¯re good. What¡¯s the problem?¡± Nirlig scoffed and turned away, shaking his head in disgust. ¡°Hey Torvald. What¡¯s the mission, anyway? Do you know where we¡¯re going?¡± ¡°Some kind of farm a few hours walk from here.¡± Torvald said, turning toward the gate and pointing. ¡°We¡¯re freeing someone from bondage.¡± Elyn frowned at the paladin. ¡°Wait, hold on. You mean a slave? I thought that wasn''t a thing here anymore.¡± Torvald shrugged. ¡°There are indentureships, though I don''t think that''s what this is. It has to be pretty serious to get the Goddess involved.¡± ¡°You don''t know?! How can you take on a quest without even knowing the objective?¡± ¡°I know that someone prayed for rescue, and that Ruzinia has called me to answer. What more do I need?" Elyn threw up her hands. *** It was past noon when they finally caught a glimpse of their destination, cresting a hill to reveal a narrow river valley below. Torvald stopped, peering down into it with interest. Nirlig, who¡¯d been trying to work out how to make a sound come out of Elyn¡¯s flute, nearly ran into him but was saved by the half-elf who hauled him back by his shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s the one,¡± the paladin declared, pointing down toward a collection of sorry-looking buildings clustered around a large stream that ran the length of the valley. ¡°Right down there.¡± Uriah stared at the tiny settlement for a moment, his brow furrowed. ¡°How do you know? It looks like every other village we¡¯ve seen so far. You really think they¡¯re slavers?¡± Torvald snorted and started down the winding road in front of them. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you guys can¡¯t see the huge glyph spinning over the town, then? Ruzinia isn¡¯t really known for subtlety.¡± Bernt exchanged a glance with Uriah. Glyphs were generally only used in the direct practice of magic ¨C so, by mages and enchanters. What was the point of showing one to a paladin? ¡°Hey, Torvald... what¡¯s the glyph?¡± Torvald shrugged without stopping. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Doesn¡¯t matter. The goddess will speak to me if I really need to know.¡± ¡°It could be important,¡± Bernt insisted. ¡°Even if it doesn¡¯t mean anything to you. Maybe it¡¯s a message for me or Uriah?¡± The paladin looked back at them and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Don¡¯t you think she¡¯d show it to you directly, then? It probably just means ''look here''.¡± When nobody responded, he gave a small, resigned sigh and bent down, scratching something into the packed dirt. It was a circle with two small lines coming out of the top, next to an elongated arrow shape that pointed straight down. Bernt had never seen it before. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. It was a symbol of some kind, sure, but it lacked the smooth, flowing contours of a real glyph. What was it? ¡°That¡¯s not a glyph,¡± Uriah said, confirming Bernt¡¯s suspicions as he looked over the pyromancer¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Or, not a mage glyph, I should say. It¡¯s a trade character, like people use out in the really rural villages where people don¡¯t learn to read. You¡¯d see them at the market sometimes, in my hometown. That¡¯s the one for oxen. Could also be mules, donkeys, that kind of thing. Beasts of burden.¡± Elyn gave the hydromancer a skeptical look before turning to Torvald, her hands on her hips. ¡°Torvald, we didn¡¯t come all the way out here to free an animal from a farm, right? Please tell me that¡¯s not what¡¯s happening.¡± In response, the paladin sighed and started walking down the road again. ¡°Come on!¡± It took another half-hour before they reached the first fields, and several minutes after that before they passed the first farmer, weeding his winter kale crops. He looked completely ordinary, certainly not like any kind of villain. The sight felt strange somehow. Ruzinia was the goddess of hopeless situations ¨C one who people only called upon in desperate circumstances. So, what was she doing, calling Torvald to a sleepy farming village out in the middle of nowhere? The houses grew a little more dense until, a minute later, they emerged into what passed for the village square here. It was a roughly circular open area ringed by what looked like a smithy, a bakery, a small temple to Eyeli and a handful of homes. Between those homes sat a few smaller shrines to whatever other gods the farmers here found cause to pray to. One of the larger ones had a crudely carved wooden statuette of a six-legged bear with insectile wings on it ¨C a shrine to Garrus, the god of beekeeping and pollination. The place wasn¡¯t exactly a hive of activity, but it wasn¡¯t deserted, either. There were a few people out, obviously working. The sound of laughter reached them from a few kids who chased each other down the unpaved streets on the other side of the square. When they came into view, most of them stopped what they were doing and watched them, clearly wary of strangers. No one immediately approached. Torvald ignored them and led the group across the packed dirt toward the right, where a gnome was hanging laundry next to his house. A tiny gnome girl, probably his daughter, handed him clothes¡¯ pins one after another as he worked. He nodded to himself and then waved to the gnome, who had stopped hanging laundry and was now looking at them as if trying to work out the quickest way to get rid of them. ¡°Hi, excuse me, I¡¯ve been Sent here to speak to Linnie. Is she here?¡± The gnome narrowed his eyes suspiciously before looking over the rest of the group. He spared an especially virulent glare for Nirlig. ¡°We don¡¯t need any adventurer business here,¡± he said shortly, ¡°and most certainly not with my Linnie.¡± ¡°Oh, sorry. I¡¯m not an adventurer,¡± Torvald explained with an embarrassed smile. ¡°I¡¯m a paladin of Ruzinia. I have a task here.¡± The tiny gnome girl jumped up and down in excitement. ¡°I¡¯m Linnie! You¡¯re here for Runty, right? You gotta help him! They only feed him proper during plowing season, and he¡¯s sick. It¡¯s the middle of winter and he sleeps outside in the cold. They don¡¯t even put him in the stable with the other animals. Everyone¡¯s always so mean to him and he didn¡¯t do anything. He¡¯s gonna die ¨C I can tell!¡± The older gnome gave a long-suffering sigh and looked to the heavens. ¡°Linnie, what did you do?¡± ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡± Uriah chuckled, raising an eyebrow at Torvald. ¡°You really did bring us out here to save an ox. I didn¡¯t know Ruzinia even accepted prayers by proxy.¡± ¡°You told me that if Runty deserved help, then the gods would handle it.¡± Linnie told her father, wagging her finger at him in childish indignation. ¡°So I told them, and they listened! One of them, anyway.¡± The gnome groaned. ¡°Oh no. We¡¯re never going to hear the end of this.¡± ¡°Come on! I¡¯ll show you where he is. You have to see for yourself, right? He¡¯s staked out in a pen over there.¡± ¡°Wait a moment!¡± the older gnome said, rushing to stop her. ¡°Don¡¯t just go wandering off with strangers. Give me a minute and I¡¯ll take them.¡± They waited a moment as the gnome finished hanging a few bits of clothing on his line and put away his basket. Linnie, meanwhile, tapped her foot at him with a stormy expression. Finally, the gnome took his daughter by the hand and gestured for them to follow. ¡°We had a problem with raiders about ten years back,¡± he explained as they walked. ¡°Goblins, at first, picking off the sheep and stripping the apple orchard at night. It stopped after a month or so, and we thought they¡¯d moved on. But then, a few weeks later, a shepherd went missing. Big, tough fellow, too. Then the peddler didn¡¯t show up. We went looking. Found the goblins¡¯ camp first ¨C what was left of it. A few broken bones, torn-up tents, and the smell. The peddler¡¯s pack was there, too. We couldn¡¯t really identify any of what was left of them. Cracked the bones to get at the marrow.¡± ¡°What was it?¡± Elyn asked when Torvald didn¡¯t respond immediately. ¡°Wyvern? Undead?¡± The gnome shook his head. ¡°We brought the whole town out with torches and pitchforks. Smoked them out into a clearing. Lost the baker¡¯s son in the fight, but we brought them down. They¡¯re tough, but stupid, too. And scared of fire. We were going to finish off the little one, too. Little monsters become big ones, you know? But old farmer Don figured we didn¡¯t need to kill it. He¡¯d lost a plow horse over the winter, see?¡± ¡°Yes, fine, I get it. But what is it?¡± Elyn insisted as they turned a corner. She stopped so abruptly that Bernt nearly bumped into her. ¡°Oh.¡± Suppressing his annoyance, Bernt stepped around the tall woman to see what all the fuss was about. Behind a low wall on what passed for the edge of the village a massive form sat huddled on the ground. It was huge, several times as big as an ox, naked and covered with pebbled gray skin. It was obviously malnourished, its skin cracked and hanging loosely from too-thin limbs and it had scars layered over each other on its flanks. Its tiny eyes were sunken, practically disappearing beneath its enormous brow. Manacles and a heavy chain bound both its arms to a solid stone pillar at the center of the enclosure. It pressed itself into a corner and whimpered like a whipped dog. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Uriah trailed off and looked back at the others, as if to check that they were all seeing the same thing. ¡°Are you using an ogre as a plowhorse?¡± Nirlig let out a nervous giggle, eyes darting left and right as if looking for somewhere to run. Bernt could empathize. Even starved, bound and obviously beaten into submission, the creature was just so godsdamned big. Even sitting down and hunched over, it was still head and shoulders taller than him. At full strength, Bernt couldn¡¯t imagine that something as small as that stone pillar would hold him. ¡°Runty didn¡¯t do anything!¡± Linnie¡¯s tiny voice piped up from behind the group. ¡°You gotta help him! 3.21 Pied Piper ¡°Hold on a minute, now,¡± Uriah said. ¡°You can¡¯t seriously be planning to release a live ogre in the middle of a village. You know they eat people, right?¡± ¡°He¡¯s right.¡± Nirlig chimed in. ¡°Ogres are dangerous. Stealthy, too, for their size. If he starts picking people off in the woods, there¡¯s no guarantee they¡¯d ever manage to put him down. They¡¯re lucky they even managed to find this one¡¯s parents. Maybe it¡¯s because they had a kid ogre with them?¡± During his academy days, Bernt had spent a lot of time trying to learn as much as he could about the Beseri wildlands and what came out of them. This was where he¡¯d dreamed of making a name for himself and launching his career as an adventurer, after all. Ogres were near the top of the food chain ¨C below the lesser dragons but above nearly everything else. They weren¡¯t intelligent as humanoids went, but they didn¡¯t need to be. They were fast, tough, and they could blend into their environment thanks to their rock-like skin. This allowed them to hunt by ambush, despite their size. ¡°I¡¯m not going to disobey Ruzinia just because you aren¡¯t comfortable.¡± Torvald said, drawing his sword and leaping over the low wall. ¡°Besides. Look at him. He¡¯s clearly terrified of people. I doubt he¡¯ll ever go near civilization again.¡± ¡°Stop!¡± the gnome called out as Torvald swung the weapon down at the massive chain. It shouldn''t have worked. At best, the swing should have broken the sword. Instead, light flashed and the struck link shattered with a sound like a bell. Paladins acting in the course of their duties didn¡¯t have to worry about silly things like common sense. Runty flinched at the sound and rose to his feet, his breath condensing in a massive plume in the wintery air. He towered over the group, easily twice as tall as a man and three times as wide, despite his bony frame. Torvald took a step back and sheathed his weapon before holding out both hands. ¡°It¡¯s alright, buddy. You can leave. Just let me get the rest of that chain off.¡± The creature stared down at the paladin in plain bewilderment. Bernt wasn¡¯t entirely sure if he even had the capacity to understand human language. Torvald took a step toward the ogre and it didn¡¯t react. That was probably a good sign, right? ¡°Hey! What¡¯s going on here?¡± A voice called, followed by a few other cries from down the street. Bernt turned to find an angry-looking man approaching, followed by several others. They were carrying hoes and pitchforks ¨C farmers. ¡°Nils, did you bring these people here? What are they doing with the runt?¡± he asked the gnome, who had pulled Linnie behind him at the others¡¯ approach. ¡°They¡¯re Ruzinians.¡± Nils replied, nodding toward Torvald. ¡°They said they¡¯re here to free him.¡± ¡°Idiot! They¡¯re probably adventurers from Earfield, I bet the baron sent them to poach him,¡± the angry farmer spat, turning toward Torvald. ¡°You, get away from there! This doesn¡¯t have to get ugly, but it will if you don¡¯t mind yourself. We took out that thing''s parents. Don''t go thinking we''ll back down for the likes of you just because you got a fancy sword there.¡± Bernt gripped his staff nervously. He wasn¡¯t going to let them get in Torvald¡¯s way. Ogres were dangerous monsters and killing them if they threatened your village was just standard procedure ¨C though normally the sort of thing a village would submit to the adventurers guild. But this¡­ whatever this was, it was wrong. Torvald ignored the man, taking another step closer to the ogre and reaching forward to grab the chain that was still threaded through the loops on his manacles. With a clinking noise, he began to pull it free. The farmer made a choking noise and stepped forward, but Nirlig stepped up and blocked his progress with his spear. Bernt needed a way to calm this situation. He didn¡¯t want to fight these people. They were Beseri citizens who hadn¡¯t actually done anything illegal. Fighting them could carry serious consequences. Maybe he could just scare them a little? Not moving so as not to provoke a response, Bernt visualized the spellform for a torch spell and, trying something new, routed the spell out through the top of his head. The light blazed brightly overhead, drawing everyone''s attention and casting shadows away from him. ¡°He''s not an adventurer.¡± Bernt said, trying to sound menacing. ¡°And you really don¡¯t want to find out what happens if you step in front of a paladin while he¡¯s trying to work.¡± They flinched back and backed up, staring fearfully at the flame. It was mostly harmless, of course, but they didn¡¯t know that. Seeing their terrified faces made him feel a little ashamed and he nearly canceled the spell. But... it beat having to actually harm them. He didn¡¯t have any gentle, non-lethal methods to deal with this. There was a grunting noise behind him, followed by a loud groaning noise that sounded vaguely like ¡°Noooo.¡± Bernt whirled around to see the ogre flailing its long arms from side to side, its eyes rolling around in their sockets in terror. Torvald dove back, crouching against the low wall to avoid an errant blow. Then something extinguished Bernt¡¯s torch spell and water splashed into his ear so hard that he took an involuntary step forward. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Damnit, no fire!¡± Uriah shouted. The villagers screamed and scattered, running for cover. All except Nils and Linnie, who was trying to run toward the ogre as her father tried to hold her back. The low wall of the enclosure shattered and Runty stumbled out into the street. He was clearly distraught, turning in a circle as if trying to keep an eye on everyone at once. ¡°Runty!¡± Linnie shouted. ¡°It¡¯s okay, you¡¯re safe!¡± The ogre¡¯s head whipped around, eyes focusing on the tiny gnome girl. Nils squeaked in terror and pulled her back down the street a few more steps, trying to shush her as she continued to try to reassure the gigantic monster. Runty just stared at Linnie, as if trying to make sense of the scene, but he stopped flailing around. Into that moment of almost-quiet, a pure, silvery note cut through the sense of chaos. Bernt suddenly felt safe, somehow. Relaxed, even. Before he knew what was happening, he¡¯d taken a step forward. The movement shook something loose in his mind and he stopped, shaking his head. What the hells was that? Runty, the gnomes and, surprisingly, Uriah were slowly shuffling toward the source of the music ¨C Elyn. The bard held her flute to her lips and took slow, even steps in time with the music, heading down the street, toward the tree line. A second later, Torvald emerged from the ogre¡¯s enclosure, looking a little bruised. There was a soft halo of light around his head. He absorbed the scene in confusion. Nirlig, who¡¯d been standing still, shook his head as he fought free of the effect of Elyn¡¯s magic much the same way that Bernt had done moments earlier. They exchanged a look. ¡°I guess she¡¯s getting the ogre out of the village?¡± Bernt said. Torvald spared a glance back the other way, where most of the villagers had gone. It was deserted. Clearly, nobody wanted to get involved at this point. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s probably for the best. Let¡¯s go make sure nothing happens to the gnomes when she quits playing.¡± They hurried to catch up, which didn¡¯t take long considering their sedate pace. They were barely fifty steps out of the village when Nirlig shook Uriah out of his stupor. Meanwhile, Bernt and Torvald grabbed the gnomes and pulled them back, giving them a little more distance from Elyn. Nils clutched at his daughter in horror when he realized what had happened. ¡°What are you?¡± he hissed at them, watching as the huge ogre continued to shuffle after the half-elf. Linnie, meanwhile, still seemed more concerned about Runty than anything else. ¡°That¡¯s not nice,¡± she complained. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t do that to him! What if he doesn¡¯t know where he is when he wakes up?¡± Torvald smiled at her and crouched down to her level. ¡°He¡¯s going to wake up somewhere without walls, without chains, without fields to plow, and without mean people. How do you think he¡¯s going to feel?¡± Linnie¡¯s lip quivered and she sniffed, her eyes watering. ¡°But how will he know how to find me?¡± Nils let out a near-hysterical giggle at that. ¡°Linnie, dear. Runty is going to need to stay far away from the farmers, remember? They¡¯ll hurt him if they see him again, or try to put him back to work. Sometimes, doing what¡¯s best for someone means you have to let go, okay? Let¡¯s go home.¡± The tiny gnome hung her head, tears running down her face as she sobbed. ¡°Okay, daddy.¡± *** Jori kept her nose in the air as she flitted from rock to rock, keeping herself as low to the ground as she could. Tallash¡¯s stench was strong here ¨C old, rank blood mixed with a light sulfur undertone, as if someone had spiced a week-old corpse. She was getting close. They had captured more than twenty imps, so far. Most of them were still spawnlings, having been denied the soul fragments they needed to evolve even once. Four had taken the first step, either by circumventing their obligation to Tallash through some technicality, or by doing something to earn a reward. They were the most important imps to capture, though Jori wanted to get as many away from her enemy as she could before they struck. The imps would be obligated to defend the fiend when they moved on him, and she didn¡¯t want to kill her cousins in this place. Not if she could help it. In this world, death was not a simple inconvenience. They needed to isolate him as much as possible before they struck, so they could kill him without having to face anyone else, first. Unfortunately, she didn¡¯t know how many imps there were in total. Her current prisoners wouldn¡¯t tell her, since apparently telling her anything useful would violate their obligations. ¡°Cowards,¡± she grumbled quietly to herself as she ducked toward another rock. Remembering their resistance to questioning irked her. Demonic hierarchies weren¡¯t magically sealed like agreements with warlocks, they were just brutally enforced. They could tell her, if they were brave enough. The truth was that they didn¡¯t really believe that she could kill the demon, even though she had Ed with her and everything. At least, they didn¡¯t want to risk it. Sure, she could have forced them to talk if she¡¯d been prepared to use torture. But she wasn¡¯t. That would make her exactly like every other demon, and every other demon was doing it wrong. Mortals didn¡¯t have to torture each other to create power structures or to enforce loyalty. They didn¡¯t even always use contracts! Bernt certainly hadn¡¯t ever harmed or threatened her. He¡¯d been nice to her, had given her a safe place to sleep and fed her tasty food. That¡¯s what this was all about. She had to show them. A surprisingly loud smacking noise drew Jori out of her thoughts and she ducked down even further, swiveling her ears to try to orient to the sound. A moment later, she had it. Carefully and without making a sound, she shifted around the stone and peeked around the side. A large blood fiend sat on a rock, no more than ten steps away. Its disgusting, wet-looking skin hung off of it in shapeless, flabby rolls, partially hiding long arms and legs. As she watched, it lifted what looked like an imp¡¯s arm to its oddly protruding maw and tore some of the stringy meat from it. Jori shuddered and pulled back. She didn¡¯t look too closely at the ground, where the body lay. She didn¡¯t want to know who had become the thing¡¯s dinner today. 3.22 Expedition Bernt and Torvald accompanied the two gnomes back to their house at the paladin''s insistence, both to keep Linnie from trying to pursue the ogre and to try to explain things to the locals. Judging by their behavior so far, it seemed likely that they would try to take out their misguided anger on the nearest scapegoat ¨C in this case Nils and Linnie. The villagers received them with angry glares and a few harsh words for Nils. Ignoring them, Torvald made straight for the tiny shrine to Ruzinia to offer a prayer. The effect was dramatic and immediate. Light flared over the town before falling like a shooting star and embedding itself in the lintel over the gnome family¡¯s door. The hostile villagers retreated quickly at the display, some even mumbling apologies. By the time the door opened and a puzzled-looking gnome woman ¨C presumably Nils¡¯ wife and Linnie¡¯s mother ¨C stuck her head out to see what was going on, the square was nearly deserted. Not looking to get bogged down in introductions, Bernt and Torvald set off, leaving a still-sniffling Linnie holding on to her father¡¯s leg as he attempted to explain why a fallen star in the shape of an incandescent golden glyph was embedded over the door. Unlike the one Torvald had described hanging over the town, Bernt recognized this one immediately. It was the core value embodied by Ruzinia ¨C shelter. Incidentally, also the core rune of a classical force barrier spell. Bernt doubted very much that anyone in that town would dare to give the little family trouble now. A god¡¯s favor wasn¡¯t a casual thing, especially not when displayed in such a blatant manner. The sorts of people who could elicit such an immediate response from a deity weren¡¯t ones to mess with, either, but that wouldn¡¯t hold much long-term weight, considering that they were already leaving. By the time Bernt and Torvald caught up to the others, nearly a league deep into the woods, the ogre was gone. Elyn¡¯s flute was back on her belt, and she watched the forest with both hands on her hips, eyes following something Bernt couldn¡¯t see. Nirlig stood to the side with Uriah, holding his canteen still for the hydromancer to conjure water into, which he did without complaint. After a moment, the half-elf turned and grinned at the two latecomers. ¡°Hey, you made it! Do I get some kind of reward for finishing the quest without you?¡± ¡°Sorry, not how it works... you already let him go?¡± Torvald asked, sounding worried. ¡°Don¡¯t you think we should have at least gotten him a bit deeper into the woods? I mean, a starving ogre this close to civilization¡­ we better hope he keeps going.¡± ¡°We got the job done, right?¡± Elyn said, shrugging. ¡°I doubt your goddess would have sent you to save him if he was about to go wipe out a homestead or three. Besides, he¡¯s weak and scared to death of people. We¡¯re done, let¡¯s go back!¡± Torvald rubbed at his face in frustration, looking downright conflicted for the first time since Bernt had met him. ¡°Elyn, I¡¯m glad you got him out of there, and thanks for the initiative. It probably would have turned into a mess without you. Still, in the future, let¡¯s try to make sure we¡¯re not endangering more people, alright? Or the creature we¡¯re trying to save. We should have fed him first, or something. I don¡¯t know. If this was a test, I don¡¯t think I did very well.¡± The half-elf shook her head and patted the paladin¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re overthinking it, cheer up! We got the ogre out and nobody got hurt. As ogre quests go, it¡¯s the cleanest one I¡¯ve ever even heard of. What more do you want?¡± She patted him once more, turned, and began making her way back the way they¡¯d come. Clearly, she didn¡¯t much care what happened once the job was done. It was, Bernt supposed, not an unusual mentality for an adventurer. Adventurers didn¡¯t get paid to consider problems outside their quest parameters. Of course, there was another point that was probably escaping the paladin. ¡°You don''t need to worry about the food. He¡¯s not going to starve, now that he¡¯s out," Bernt pointed out. "Ogres can eat almost anything if they have to. The villagers were probably starving him on purpose to make him easier to handle. He¡¯ll probably gorge on pine needles and bark or something. They only really need meat when they¡¯re in heat or pregnant, and Runty¡¯s a boy. And judging by what we saw, I don''t imagine that he''s going to go near any villages if he can help it.¡± The paladin gave a reluctant nod, somewhat reassured. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s good. How do you know stuff about ogre dietary behavior?¡± Bernt shrugged, ¡°I always wanted to be an adventurer growing up. There wasn¡¯t a real forest bestiary at the academy, but they had a book on natural history with a whole chapter on trolls and ogres. They¡¯re distantly related, apparently. ¡°Riiight. Okay.¡± Torvald shook his head. ¡°Still, I thought we¡¯d get him a bit further away from civilization at least. Is there no way we can track him down?¡± The others exchanged a glance. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Ehm. Wouldn¡¯t Ruzinia show you, if you were supposed to follow?¡± Nirlig asked. ¡°I thought you¡¯d know when you finished the task.¡± ¡°I guess.¡± Torvald said, still frowning. ¡°I suppose we don''t have time, in any case. Still, it feels like sloppy work.¡± *** They found the expedition just inside Fergefield¡¯s gates the next morning in front of the inn where the other priests had spent the night. Bernt did his best not to glower at the well-rested adventurers as they loaded two horse-drawn wagons and a carriage, which the three high priests had apparently purchased for their shared usage. Night fell early this time of year, and Bernt and the others hadn''t made it back to the city before dusk. They¡¯d spent the night camping in a barn, rented for a handful of coppers from a local farmer. Bernt could have lit the way easily enough, but it was generally considered bad practice to travel with bright lights in the dark. It was too easy to get picked off by something Sure, you didn''t have to worry about being spotted by bandits or a gnoll warband this close to a major city, but that didn''t mean it was safe. Dangerous creatures lived even in the more civilized parts of Besermark. They just tended to be stealthier and active at night. ¡°There they are!¡± someone called out. Bernt thought he recognized the voice and looked around, trying to place him. A moment later, Regin, the young nobleman who¡¯d been assigned as Angjou¡¯s legitimator stepped out of the crowd, waving at them. ¡°We were already worried you all would miss the rendezvous. That would¡¯ve been real bad luck, so early on a trip like this. Terrible omen. Glad to see you!¡± ¡°Right, okay.¡± Torvald gave the man a bemused smile. ¡°Well, we¡¯re here, so I¡¯m sure there¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡± The baron nodded amiably, patting at his jacket pockets in some kind of nervous gesture. ¡°Right, sure!¡± The others didn¡¯t bother them for the most part, beyond making sure everyone was present, then they set off. No one asked where they''d been or what they''d been doing, though they got a few curious glances. High Priestess Surin approached them briefly to offer Torvald a seat in the carriage, but it was clear that she expected him to decline, which he politely did. ¡°Why¡¯d you turn her down?¡± Uriah asked, once the priestess had gone. ¡°I bet it¡¯s a lot more comfortable in there than walking the whole way. Warmer, too.¡± Torvald scoffed. ¡°Comfortable is a matter of perspective. That carriage-ride is going to be a single, weeks-long debate, testing arguments and ideas against one another before we get to the Peaks. I don¡¯t want to get anywhere near all that. They¡¯ll just try to twist my head around with words if I go in there. I don¡¯t need any of that. Ruzinia told me to go, so I¡¯m going. I didn¡¯t sign up to play political games, and I¡¯m not going to do it.¡± Uriah grunted. ¡°Well, it didn¡¯t look like she expected you to anyway, I guess.¡± ¡°Adherents of Ruzinia don¡¯t usually indulge in the political side of things. She was just being polite,¡± the paladin explained. ¡°That''s why we barely have any proper temples. Most cities just get unstaffed shrines, barely more than you see in villages. Everyone who joins up gets put to work in the field ¨C even the priests. It¡¯s good. Simple. We just help desperate people who need it.¡± The sentiment encapsulated what Bernt liked about them well. After weeks of listening to Iriala¡¯s thoughts on power, politics and history, though, he couldn¡¯t help but look back at the carriage. What could the Temple of Ruzinia get done if they bothered to build up a powerful institution to back them? They wouldn¡¯t, Bernt knew. The way temples functioned was a direct reflection of their respective gods. If Ruzinia saw the value in large bureaucratic organizations, she would have built one centuries ago. "Do you free a lot of enslaved ogres?" The hydromancer asked, keeping his voice down. "Not that I''ve heard of," Torvald admitted. "But it makes sense, considering the circumstances." The small caravan began to move. Bernt looked over the group as he fell in next to Torvald, marching out through the gate and onto the open road to the south. There were twelve adventurers present, in all, which Bernt thought was probably overkill for most kinds of trouble that they might run into on a public road. Still, none of them were very high ranked. Elyn, now rank 3, was one of the more experienced adventurers around, excluding archdruid Leirin, who wasn¡¯t really here in his capacity as an adventurer, but rather as the legitimator to high priestess Surin. Still, he would surely fight if needed. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t come to that. The Duergar weren¡¯t supposed to be aware of the conclave or of their expedition. But Bernt knew there were still shades in Halfbridge. Still, it couldn¡¯t be easy to intercept a group like theirs on a major road without being detected first. Besides, he¡¯d told the others about his shade encounter on the boat ride ¨C they¡¯d be vigilant. Putting his concerns out of his mind, Bernt took a deep breath of the crisp morning air, pulled out a slightly stale cinnamon bun and tried to enjoy the moment. He was on the road, finally, going new places with a bunch of friends and adventurers. Danger was implied, but so was adventure, new sights, new tastes and new magic. Behind him, Elyn and Uriah walked in stoic silence as Nirlig exchanged stories about various omens and superstitions with Baron Regin. The nobleman kept an unconscious distance from the goblin, walking nearly at the edge of the road as if afraid to get into arm¡¯s reach. Despite that, though, he questioned Nirlig animatedly. ¡°Wait, you really bite off your own finger if you accidentally kill a tree?¡± ¡°I mean, crazy superstitious people do, sure. Not the whole thing, though, just one segment at the knuckle. Gotta show the forest¡¯s spirit that you¡¯re sorry, or it¡¯ll curse you with bad luck!¡± Nirlig explained, with a theatrical wink. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s not that easy to kill a tree on accident. We cut them down on purpose sometimes for lumber, but nobody makes a fuss about that. The spirits don¡¯t care as long as we don¡¯t kill the forest.¡± ¡°Then what¡¯s the point?¡± Regin cried, throwing up his hands. ¡°Well, if it made sense it wouldn¡¯t be a superstition, would it?¡± Nirlig said with a shrug. ¡°I mean, I saw a human woman spin in place twice before stepping through a door! ¡°I watched an old man turn and run away down the street because an owl flew overhead,¡± Bernt threw in. ¡°What¡¯s all that about?¡± Regin threw a glance back over his shoulder at Bernt and nodded, eyes wide. ¡°Owls, yes. Terrible omens, they are. Someone probably died.¡± Nirlig coughed into his hand. 3.23 The Cripple By the time noon rolled around, the novelty of traveling forth into the unknown had worn off for Bernt. There were fields, copses of trees, more fields, villages in the distance, and even more fields. This region was the northernmost portion of Besermark¡¯s heartland, which was roughly a triangle marked out by the cities of Teres, Yetin¡¯s Harbor and Fergefield. These lands were well-protected between the Uvner River, which they¡¯d just traveled down, and the Aelan River to the west, which ran south from Besermark¡¯s geographic center to Teres and the Illurian Sea. It was also, incidentally, the ancestral home of Besermark¡¯s gnomish population. The expedition stopped at a level spot with a nice view for lunch, overlooking more fields and a small farming village. The adventurers mostly sat down in smaller groups to eat, while a few, including Elyn, stood sentry. Nirlig, ever sociable, immediately wandered off with Regin in tow to exchange a few stale cinnamon buns for whatever fresh-ish rations the others might have brought. As far as Bernt could tell, the gregarious goblin had by now made the acquaintance of everyone on the expedition, and he stopped to exchange a word or two with nearly everyone he passed by. The way he moved between people made him look in control and in charge somehow, especially with the young nobleman following behind him like that. It made Bernt wonder what kind of future Nirlig had in front of him. ¡°So, Bernt,¡± Torvald said as he dug a wedge of hard cheese out of his pack. ¡°You said yesterday that you were planning to be an adventurer back at the academy. How did you end up as an Underkeeper? Josie said you were a volunteer. Like, a real one. How did that happen?¡± Bernt shrugged, considering how to answer. ¡°It seemed like a good idea at the time. I thought it would be a good way to save some money without getting wrapped up in other people¡¯s business. I thought I could be a real, independent adventurer ¨C self made, but without all the risk of getting myself killed for lack of armor or a healing potion at the early ranks.¡± He scratched at the back of his neck, remembering his grand plans. He¡¯d thought everything was working out perfectly until what, three months ago? It felt like a lifetime. ¡°It didn¡¯t go like that, but I don¡¯t regret it, I don¡¯t think.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± Uriah grunted. ¡°That explains a few things. You were always practicing spells down in the sewers and thought we wouldn¡¯t notice. All the time. I always said it was too much for somebody who didn¡¯t have any ambition.¡± Bernt flushed, oddly embarrassed to realize that his secret practice sessions hadn¡¯t been so secret after all. Not that it mattered now. ¡°What about you?¡± he countered, deflecting. ¡°You were a volunteer, too, right?¡± The older mage¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°Of course I was. I messed up my third investiture pretty bad, so I had to be realistic. Underkeeping is a worthy vocation, regardless of what the upper classes or the higher ups at the academy think of it. Besides, it¡¯s a well-paid job for a guy who¡¯s practically a hedge mage at this point, and we do a public service. I made the best of my situation.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right, I was just asking.¡± Bernt said. Uriah scoffed, but didn¡¯t argue further. ¡°So what happened?¡± Torvald asked curiously. ¡°I mean, with your magic?¡± Uriah sat back and dug out a cup, which he filled with conjured water before taking a slow sip. It generally wasn¡¯t polite to pry into these sorts of things, but Torvald didn¡¯t know that and Bernt wanted to know, too. So, he didn¡¯t say anything until Uriah finally sighed and answered. ¡°I accidentally created a tangent in my third investiture ¨C one of the glyphs is touching a join line from an entirely separate cluster in the spellform. It destabilizes the mana flow entirely, so the entire spellform is unusable and manifests as nonsensical chunks in my spells.¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± Torvald said, in the tone of someone who had no idea what that meant. Bernt winced. There were several ways for an investiture to go wrong ¨C a misaligned glyph, a double-traced line, or just an unsteady wiggle in the spellform could all have a variety of effects. Sometimes, the investiture would just be a little less efficient, or it wouldn¡¯t manifest quite as cleanly into spells. Other times, the investiture wouldn¡¯t be able to fuse properly, effectively ruining the mage¡¯s augmentation and their architecture with it. Mages in this position would have to work with three discrete investitures, which meant sorting through the influences of all three on every spell with each casting. It was slow and difficult to the point where even cantrips would take several seconds to cast with practice. In these situations, mages often attempted to repeat the same investiture again in hopes of finishing their augmentation. Once fused, its three constituent investitures would work together, synergistically empowering spells in a controlled fashion, like a single greater investiture. Of course, the bum investiture would still be there complicating things, but the effect was manageable with practice. Uriah, though, had it even worse than this. A tangent would allow mana to flow back on itself through the point of contact, leading to chaotic interference throughout the structure. His third investiture wrecked his existing spellforms in strange and unpredictable ways, meaning that parts of them might go missing during casting, while other bits of the broken investiture¡¯s spellform might manifest randomly. Worse, that tangent existed inside Uriah¡¯s mana network, so the mana in his body had to deal with unstable flow as well ¨C Bernt had no idea what that might do to a mage, but he very much doubted he would get an answer if he asked. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. It was something that further advancement simply wouldn¡¯t fix. Uriah could try finishing his augmentation, but that wouldn¡¯t significantly improve his casting speed at this point. And if he messed up again, he might not be able to work through the mess at all anymore. But¡­ well, that wasn¡¯t the only thing a mage could try, right? ¡°Magister Pollock told me people can learn to exclude portions of their spirit while casting with enough practice.¡± Bernt mused aloud. ¡°Maybe you could learn to do that? I heard it takes years, but if you could do that, then you could just ignore the problem, right?¡± Uriah sighed in exasperation. ¡°I¡¯ve looked into everything, Bernt. Everyone in my situation does. That technique requires extremely well-controlled mana flow to master, and mine is chaotic. Maybe if I¡¯d learned how to do it before ¨C but nobody learns archmage-level techniques before even becoming a magister.¡± ¡°Right. Sorry.¡± Bernt apologized. For a moment, he considered shutting up, but only for a moment. This was, in a very roundabout way, almost his area of expertise as a wizard. Or it might be, someday. Maybe. ¡°Has anybody ever tried cutting a broken investiture out of a mana network before? I mean, I¡¯m sure you could. Question is if it would work.¡± He¡¯d managed to heal a damaged channel. What if he could do more than that? Uriah shook his head wearily. ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t work. Cutting the spirit is traumatic, you can¡¯t just reconnect it to itself at will like that. You¡¯re crazy. You know that, right?¡± ¡°But that means someone has tried it, right?¡± Bernt replied. ¡°And you looked into it. Do you know what they did?¡± Uriah clenched his jaw, and for a moment, Bernt thought he wasn''t going to answer. ¡°The Madurians tried it with a demonic ritual forever ago," he said eventually. "That went about how you would expect. Someone else managed to get divine help from a priest of Aedina about a hundred years ago. That one survived, but ended up with a split mana network. The patient couldn¡¯t circulate mana anymore and ended up joining the priesthood instead.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± Bernt considered. That option was probably out, then. He couldn¡¯t operate more cleanly on the spirit than an actual god. But that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t do anything. Pulling back the sleeve on his right arm, he showed the other mage his arm, shapes glowing softly under the skin. ¡°Did I tell you about how I got into the Wizard¡¯s Society?¡± Uriah frowned down at the pyromancer¡¯s arm. ¡°No?¡± he said warily. ¡°What did you do to it?¡± ¡°I was trying to fix spiritual damage. I nearly burned myself out after the kobolds invaded, and with the Duergar invasion right afterward¡­ well, that¡¯s all beside the point. I worked out a way to fix the damage during my next investment procedure. Problem was that the affected portion of my mana network manifested physically in my body when I did it. It still works, but it¡¯s different ¨C like a sorcerer¡¯s channels. The spells activate instantly, and the only way to modify the spellform is to sort of pinch off portions of it during the casting process.¡± Uriah stared at Bernt as if he¡¯d grown a second head. ¡°What? Wait¡­ No. What?¡± ¡°No, still not the important part.¡± Bernt said, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°What¡¯s weird about it is that when I cast through the investiture, it draws on my entire mana network. But when I draw mana from somewhere else, like my left hand, it doesn¡¯t. That means I can cast normal spells without using the sorcerous investiture, as long as I don¡¯t cast from my right hand.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t help me.¡± ¡°No, not right now,¡± Bernt agreed, growing excited now as the idea came together, ¡°but think about it! If I can figure out why it works like that, maybe we can flip it around so the sorcerous investiture can function without drawing on the normal ones. You could start over, sort of, but as a sorcerer! It would be almost like having two separate mana networks. Your regular one would be just as difficult to use as always, but the other one would be completely different.¡± ¡°Sorcery¡­¡± Uriah said, not quite managing to keep the distaste out of his voice. It was, by and large, considered a more primitive form of magic. The kind employed by monsters and people who couldn¡¯t be bothered to understand mana and the language of magic at a more fundamental level. But it was also the magic of the fae. True elves were highly secretive about their magical abilities, but rumors had always abounded about them. Flight, fully mobile protective magic, even teleportation. These were considered to be impossible by modern scholars ¨C no one reputable had ever seen and clearly documented anything of the sort. But¡­ well, the elves didn¡¯t share their knowledge. What secrets might they be hiding that humanity could now discover for themselves? Bernt had no idea, but he could practically watch as the possibilities warred with the potential stigma in Uriah¡¯s mind. ¡°There¡¯s going to be a lot of human mage-sorcerers around, soon.¡± Bernt said encouragingly. ¡°My treatment for mage burnout is going to force the issue, and Fiora told me that a lot of veterans are probably already trying to work out how to do it on their own, now that they know it¡¯s possible.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Uriah grunted noncommitally. ¡°How does it work?¡± Bernt explained the procedure, though he glossed over a few things. Specifically, when he got to the part about the hellfire-derivative, he renamed it his ¡°soulflame¡± and didn¡¯t mention what he¡¯d adapted it from. Uriah had been a bit oversensitive about things relating to demons lately. Or maybe he¡¯d always been that way. Bernt hadn¡¯t really known him that well before. When he was done, Uriah got up and shouldered his pack with a faraway look in his eye. The others were rising as well, and the sentries were coming back in, getting ready to go. ¡°It might be interesting, eventually,¡± the hydromancer allowed, finally meeting his eyes. ¡°But you¡¯ve still got a couple of big ifs in there. If you work out how to actually use that thing independently¡­ then come talk to me, alright?¡± 3.24 Demons in the Night Ed was attempting to cook a pancake on a flat rock when one of the damned imps up and disappeared in the corner of his eye. That wasn''t right... He turned, peering more closely at the enclosure, which was now packed tight with the little buggers. Was there one missing? He began to count, but they were always squirming around so much. It was like trying to do a headcount during a bar brawl. ¡°Dammit, stand to attention!¡± he barked, and several of them did, though others ignored him. Still, it helped a little. He only had to start over twice, but he came up short by one. Shit. ¡°Jori, we¡¯re missing an imp,¡± he called over his shoulder. ¡°Which one¡¯s missing?¡± Jori, who had been heating their cooking rock with a tiny hellfire flame, peeled the pancake off the top with her bare hand and took a bite. ¡°Needs salt, I think,¡± she pronounced as she stepped up to the bars to peer inside. ¡°Just a pinch, though. Bernt always puts a little salt in the batter. Or maybe it¡¯s because we don¡¯t have any eggs. But we have salt. We should try it.¡± She bobbed back and forth, trying to get eyes on each of the imps inside. A moment later, she turned, frowning. ¡°Ed¡­ there¡¯s two missing, not one. Maladzhoth and Faedris.¡± Ed scowled into the space as if his displeasure could simply will them back inside. Where had they gone? Then another seized up for a moment, eyes growing wide as it disappeared as well, right in front of his eyes. Oh hells. That had better not be what it looked like. ¡°Hey¡­ do you think¡­?¡± Jori asked as another imp popped out of existence, followed by two more in quick succession. ¡°They¡¯re being summoned,¡± Ed said, rubbing at his forehead. ¡°Whenever they get back they¡¯ll be right back in here, but they¡¯ll be able to talk to the Duergar and whoever else they¡¯re summoning on the other side in the meantime. We need to move, now. Tallash will know who¡¯s after him, and he¡¯ll either run or get help if we don¡¯t get him first.¡± Jori hissed in agitation and beat her wings against the air. Then she calmed and turned, eyes alight. ¡°Wait, that means they probably summoned him, too, right? We know where the fiend is camped. Near enough anyway. It doesn¡¯t matter. They won¡¯t return together ¨C not unless they¡¯re all killed at the same time on the mortal plane. We can just pick them off as they return, get the imps out of the way and then ambush Tallash alone as soon as I smell him!¡± ¡°Good enough,¡± Ed said, looking distracted. ¡°As long as we¡¯re close, we should be able to get him without too much trouble. We¡¯ll need to take it in shifts, keeping an eye out. Maybe check the cell here every once in a while to see when they start regenerating. It¡¯ll give us a little advance warning, since I doubt Tallash leads from the front.¡± Killing that damned demon wasn¡¯t going to be a problem. No, Ed was more worried about the Duergar. If they were summoning even the imps, what did that mean? Were they coming for another city? He felt a clawed hand pat his arm, and he looked down at the little demon, his only company in this place. ¡°You¡¯re wishing you were back home to fight them?¡± Jori asked. ¡°Hmph.¡± Ed grunted. ¡°Of course I am. For all we know, they¡¯re taking another poke at Halfbridge while I¡¯m sitting in a godsdamned cave. What use am I here?¡± ¡°Well,¡± Jori said, teeth glinting as she grinned a vicious, sharp-toothed grin, ¡°think of it this way. Back home, all you can do is send Nuros¡¯ servants home. If you kill them here, they¡¯ll stay down forever.¡± *** The expedition bedded down at a well-used campsite by the road just a few hours later. There were a lot of villages around this area where a single traveler might find a bed for a night with the odd farmer, but there were very few inns. A few of the adventurers had pointed out that they might be able to rent a spot to sleep in someone¡¯s barn rather than out in the open ¨C but the priests had refused. They had their pride to consider, after all. Still, it was much better than the cramped, wet boat ride had been. Some of the adventurers unloaded supplies and worked to set up tents for the priests. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure if they were being paid to act like servants, or if they were just hoping for a tip, but he guessed it was the former. A few tried to engage them in conversation when they came out of the carriage, inviting them to sit at their fire. Now that Bernt thought about it, there had to be some higher-ranking adventurers here besides Leirin, right? At least, one or two of them had to be connected. If Iriala went to such trouble to prepare him for this trip, surely branchmaster Ambrose would have an agent or two among the guards to communicate the guild¡¯s interests to any listening ears. He should probably be joining them right now, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do it. He was too tired, and the insincere flattery was painful to watch. Besides, the other legitimators weren¡¯t participating either. Captain Emata stood like a shadow behind Hannis¡¯ shoulder while Lierin appeared to be growing a bed for himself from what had been dry grasses under a tree just moments before. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Regin was standing around as if he couldn¡¯t figure out what he was supposed to do, but Elyn took pity on him a moment later. The half-elf put him to work finding rocks to put around their fire. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about them essentially adopting the young nobleman into their group. He seemed in over his head, which wasn¡¯t great. On the other hand, he seemed surprisingly normal for a guy with a title, and Nirlig seemed to like him. Finding a reasonably dry spot, Bernt cast a large torch spell through his right arm, flexing and modulating the sorcererous investiture by feel as he did so. He¡¯d never cast this exact spell with these modifications before, but it was very close and it just felt right. Sure enough, a large white blaze materialized, hovering a few inches off the ground and flickering up in a mesmerizing pattern ¨C as fire tended to do. It had no physical fuel, produced no smoke, and if he¡¯d done it right¡­ Bernt shaped a small amount of mana into a ball in his left hand and ¡®tossed¡¯ it into the flames. Nothing happened. The pyromancer grinned, settling down as his group dropped their things and began unpacking food and blankets. ¡°I take it you just worked something out?¡± Uriah asked, squatting down next to the fire and examining it curiously. ¡°What were you testing?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a modified version of a perpetual flame.¡± Bernt explained and Uriah scrambled back, falling on his ass. A few of the others looked their way and one laughed and pointed at the downed hydromancer. Uriah ignored them. ¡°Gah! What the hells! Are you nuts? You can¡¯t just cast something like that here! There¡¯s mana everywhere. Practically everyone¡¯s gear is enchanted ¨C you¡¯re going to kill somebody!¡± ¡°Easy, relax!¡± Bernt said, holding a hand out as if trying to soothe a spooked horse. ¡°I modified it, remember? The spell has a defined burn rate, so it can¡¯t spread. I mean, don¡¯t stick your hand in it, but it¡¯s safe. Mostly.¡± Still eyeing Bernt warily, Uriah got back up. ¡°Is it really that dangerous?¡± Nirlig asked, looking between the two casters a little bemusedly. ¡°I mean, I saw what it could do to mages during the battle, but honestly, really hot fire kills people. Who cares if it burns mana, right?¡± Uriah shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t get it. If it burns your enchanted gear, it¡¯s going to hurt and your skin gets burned. Maybe badly. If it gets me, it¡¯s going to ignite the mana running around inside my body. I don¡¯t care what Bernt says, I¡¯m not cooking my food over that.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Nirlig shrugged, holding out a pot. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. Can you give me some water? I traded for some salted pork from Kanan over there earlier ¨C he¡¯s got a whole barrel stuffed away on one of the carts. We can cook it up with some potatoes, and I think I saw some greens we can eat growing under those trees over there.¡± As it turned out, Nirlig was an excellent cook. *** The attack came three hours after dusk. After a full day of walking, the adventurers were tired, and those who hadn¡¯t drawn the short straw for sentry duty were fast asleep. There was an abrupt shriek in the darkness, cut off almost as quickly as it came. The sound was so raw and inhuman that it didn''t feel real, for a moment, but it woke the entire camp. Then another, more normal scream sounded and shouts answered. Almost by reflex, Bernt cast torch spells, manifesting them as far away from himself and the others as possible, over the road and a nearby ditch. No need to mark themselves as targets if they could help it, but they needed to see something. Where was the enemy? A dark shape was sprinting down the road on all fours. It was larger than a man with burning, red eyes. As it opened its mouth, fire dripped down onto the road in a sulfurous dribble. ¡°Hellhound!¡± Bernt shouted, conjuring banefire in his right hand. ¡°Demons!¡± Others were shouting now, and people were moving around him, but he wasn¡¯t paying attention. With a throwing motion, Bernt adjusted his aim and flung the gray fireball at the hellhound. The thing dodged and the flames struck the road right next to it. That was fine, though. Thanks to Bernt¡¯s burning rain investiture, the power impacted like a liquid, spattering over the demon¡¯s legs. It screeched in agony and fell, rolling around in an attempt to put itself out. Then Torvald was there, swinging his sword through the creature¡¯s neck with liquid grace. He whirled away even as he did so, avoiding the spray of hellfire the came pouring out of the gash. A shout sounded to Bernt¡¯s left and he looked to see Uriah beating a small winged creature with a staff before ramming the end down into its chest with a crunching sound and a small burst of hellfire as a rib punctured the imp¡¯s skin. Hey, that was his staff! More shouts rang through the camp and a searingly bright light cut through the darkness, gone just as quickly as it came and leaving Bernt blinking in the darkness. He could smell sulfur in the air. Nirlig cursed and Torvald shouted for someone to duck. Something hissed, nearby. Belatedly, Bernt activated his thornskin amulet, feeling thorns burst out through his skin and catching on the inside of his robes. It was annoying, but his caution was rewarded a moment later, when something landed on his head. He dropped his chin as claws gouged at his face and chest. Screaming in pain and surprise, Bernt slapped at the thing, trying to shape a simple spellform in his mind as he did. It took a moment longer than normal, and it looked a bit weaker than it was supposed to be, but the dim, gray torch spell formed directly in front of his face. The demon shrieked and tried to jump away, but it had already caught fire. Its skin cracked and sulfurous hellfire burst out, though it flickered and died soon after, smothered by the cold gray fire as the imp stopped struggling. Dimly, Bernt heard chanting from the wagons, followed by another flash of light. Then another and another. A bloody dawn rose over the camp, illuminating demons everywhere ¨C imps, hellhounds, fiends and other things that Bernt didn¡¯t immediately recognize. Some were humanoid, some more like beasts, and still others had no clear taxonomic reference at all. Josie might know what they all were, but to Bernt they were just monsters -- twenty five, maybe thirty of them. A voice rose over the din, clear and sonorous and ringing with perverse rapture. ¡°Come, assassins! You who would challenge the Conqueror! Come, you who crave the taste of true defeat! Noruk has tasted your blood, and he is thirsty, still!¡± Bernt wasn¡¯t sure if it was the words or the unearthly light. Maybe demons could sense the hostile attention of a god directly. Regardless, they fled, withdrawing just as quickly as they¡¯d come. A shadow flickered by and joined Bernt¡¯s own, causing it to twitch and flicker back and forth, despite the steady red light blazing from where the wagons stood and his own nearby torch spells. ¡°Found you¡­again,¡± a voice whispered into his ear. ¡°We have you¡­ now. Soon. Next time.¡± Bernt flinched violently away from the sound, casting a light with his right hand even as he launched a diffuse cone of cold fire down at his shadow with his left. The shade disintegrated with a sound like water in a hot pan. 3.25 Honesty Bernt looked at the mangled camp all around, feeling sick. Those demons had been tracking him. The entire fight had barely taken twenty or thirty seconds ¨C as long as it took the priests to get involved. High Priest Hannis in particular had turned the fight around almost immediately. The bloody red light hung high over the man¡¯s head like a judgmental eye as he pursued the fleeing enemy. While paladins were technically the martial champions of their respective gods, all of Noruk¡¯s chosen were called to fight. As Bernt watched, the old man darted after a short, goat-headed demon and kicked its leg, tripping it. The creature twisted as it fell, flinging a gobbet of hellfire toward him. Impossibly, the priest slapped the flaming projectile to the side barehanded with snakelike speed even as he laid his other palm on the creature¡¯s forehead. He followed it to the ground almost gently as it fell. Brilliant light flashed once more and the thing collapsed in a heap, dead. It was over. Demon corpses lay strewn across the ground, ten or more of them. They''d been surprised in their sleep, but the adventurers had reacted quickly. Their losses were minimal, all things considered. Three of the four people who¡¯d been standing sentry were dead, and one adventurer had been struck by hellfire in his bedroll. Several others had serious hellfire burns, including a ranger whose leg had been burned down to the bone. Surin and Angjou provided healing, but not everyone was going to recover fully. Serious burns could only be fully treated by expensive specialists, through a combination of alchemical and clerical healing. Surin assured them that the temple would generously cover the costs, but they would have to take a boat to Teres when they reached Lochholme. Bernt¡¯s group was, ironically, nearly unhurt. Elyn had dragged Regin toward the middle of the camp, away from the worst of the fighting, since neither of them could contribute much in this kind of situation. The others had fought, but they¡¯d beaten their opponents handily. Bernt¡¯s robes had some small tears in them and his face burned a bit where the imp had clawed at him, but the scratchy thornskin amulet had done its job. He almost hadn¡¯t worn it to bed. The brambles were still occasionally scratchy, even if most of the ones that came in contact with his skin had broken off by now. It probably wouldn¡¯t last much longer. ¡°Hey. You alright?¡± Bernt blinked and met Uriah¡¯s eyes. The man was waving a hand in front of his face. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Here,¡± the hydromancer said, holding out Bernt¡¯s staff. There were scorch marks and pitting that cut through some of the carved runes on the end. ¡°Sorry about the damage, I didn¡¯t really have time to cast. That little demon came out of nowhere. We can probably get it fixed in Lochholme. I''ll pay for it.¡± Bernt accepted the staff, inspecting it. It wouldn¡¯t work as a focus until the runes were repaired. The heavy hardwood didn¡¯t channel mana properly anymore, but it wasn¡¯t too bad. After a moment, he handed it back. Uriah had grabbed it because he didn¡¯t have his own focus anymore. ¡°No, it''s work equipment. We can get it reimbursed. You keep it, for now. I have a wand, anyway, and the staff gets in the way when I¡¯m trying to cast with both hands. Just give it back when we get home.¡± Bernt also still had a weak general focus on his left hand in the form of an iron ring that he¡¯d bought from Grixit the day they¡¯d first met. It didn¡¯t do much ¨C it just recognized and helped the caster properly align a handful of common types of glyph formations within a spellform. Bernt mostly just used it to support his stoneshaping, but it could make most spells a little more efficient and quicker to cast. Uriah took the staff and nodded in thanks. ¡°You might want to take a potion. Those scratches are pretty deep. You¡¯re lucky that thing didn¡¯t take your eye out.¡± Wiping some blood out of the eye in question, Bernt cast a torch spell and dug around in his bag for a minor healing potion. The priests had serious injuries to deal with, and unless he wanted scarring on his face, he¡¯d need to do something about the scratches. While they didn¡¯t work quickly, even a minor potion would see him fixed up in an hour or so. The damage was just skin-deep, after all. ¡°How do you think they found us?¡± Torvald asked a few minutes later. The adventurers had settled down again, though the camp was still bathed in angry red light. Hannis apparently wanted the demons to know that his god was watching. Nirlig, having better night vision than the humans, had volunteered for sentry duty. The others, including a wide-eyed Baron Regin, sipped tea around the fire. Nobody was going back to sleep any time soon. Bernt swallowed, looking around the group. He needed to tell them. ¡°I¡­ I think I saw that same shade that jumped me back in Halfbridge. It tried to taunt me. So¡­ I think they¡¯re after me, specifically.¡± Torvald scoffed. ¡°Maybe that shade is, but the whole pack of them? Come on. I¡¯m the one that broke their huge soulstone during the battle, and we have three high priests here. We¡¯re going to be the only people at the conclave who have actually seen the threat first hand. It¡¯s natural that they¡¯ll want to stop us. They¡¯ve probably been spying on us this whole time and just waiting on an opportune moment to strike at us. There¡¯s probably an entrance to the Depths near here. The real question is why they only sent demons. And why were they so weak? I barely saw any hellfire, compared to the battle in the Undercity.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Weak?¡± Regin choked. ¡°I watched one of those things tear Tarik¡¯s guts out with its bare hands ¨C through his armor! I can¡¯t believe he¡¯s still alive!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate adventurers,¡± Elyn said. ¡°They¡¯re tough, especially the straight fighters. They can come back from almost anything as long as they get healing quickly enough. If you can get all the bits back in the right places. It¡¯s the alchemical enhancements. He¡¯s third rank, so he¡¯s probably got a few. Survivability is usually the first thing they¡¯ll work on.¡± Regin stared at the half-elf in horrified fascination. ¡°How do you survive getting gutted?¡± ¡°Probably an endless breath enhancement. It keeps you going for a while when you¡¯re bleeding out, or drowning. It¡¯s a whole process and it¡¯s insanely expensive ¨C but you don¡¯t have to join any guilds for it. It¡¯s worth it if you plan to get stabbed for a living. I wish I could afford one for myself.¡± Bernt let the conversation fade into the background as he sipped his tea. Torvald had a point, the Duergar would want to stop their entire group. But that didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t after him specifically as well. Also, the others still didn¡¯t know that Nuros had put a price on his head ¨C he couldn¡¯t tell them without revealing his bond to Jori. But they were far from Halfbridge now, and out of reach of its political games. The time for secrets had passed, mostly. He¡¯d been meaning to talk to them anyway, especially Elyn, ever since he¡¯d found her on the boat. Only Uriah¡¯s constant presence, and now Baron Regin, had held him back. He didn¡¯t know or trust them as well as the others, but he couldn¡¯t afford to keep waiting forever. Making his decision, he turned to the nobleman, who was listening to Elyn describe various alchemical enhancements with horrified fascination. While the alchemical details were proprietary secrets of the Alchemists¡¯ Guild, it was well known that the procedures themselves were invasive and horrifically painful. Bernt cleared his throat and tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Hey, do you think you could cover Nirlig¡¯s sentry spot and send him back here for a minute? I need to talk to him about something.¡± Regin blinked at him owlishly for a moment, then understanding dawned and he got up. ¡°Cover his¡­? Right, sure. Private conversation. No problem.¡± By the time Nirlig arrived, the others had picked up on Bernt¡¯s mood, and Uriah looked downright suspicious. Rightfully so, he supposed. ¡°I need to tell you guys about something,¡± Bernt said, keeping his voice low, ¡°and I¡¯m telling you with the understanding that you¡¯re not going to spread it around, alright?¡± He narrowed his eyes at Uriah, singling him out. ¡°That means you, especially, if you want me to try to help you with your advancement.¡± Uriah grimaced sourly. ¡°What did you do?¡± *** It took nearly two hours for Jori to pinpoint Tallash¡¯s last location. It was just a bare patch of rocks, but it was where her scent was the freshest. Jori grimaced thoughtfully. That was the wrong word. Strongest? Recent-est? There was nothing fresh about it. Picking a nearby boulder, Jori flung a handful of hellfire at it. It splattered messily, leaving black vitrified marks where struck. The mark might become important if Tallash was gone long enough for the smell to dissipate. And for Ed, who couldn¡¯t smell things very well. The man sat on a nearby rock, packing his pipe again. ¡°That¡¯s the spot, then?¡± he asked rhetorically. ¡°Alright. How long do we have to wait after one gets killed before they¡­ pop back up here?¡± Jori shrugged. ¡°Depends on the demon, I think. And how they die, or if they just get banished.¡± ¡°So, you don¡¯t know?¡± ¡°A day or two, probably,¡± Jori said with a shrug. ¡°I didn¡¯t die on the mortal plane. I just know what Josie told me. When I was banished, it felt instant.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what it was like for me, too,¡± Ed grumbled. Jori climbed up onto the boulder and stood up tall to get a good view of the surrounding area. It was completely desolate, gray and brown. The sky was a dull gray and black and she could see filthy rain falling in the distance. ¡°Ugh, this place is terrible,¡± she complained. Ed chuckled, smoke coming out of his nose in little spurts. ¡°Really? You don¡¯t say. I¡¯m not taking camping advice from Tallash, I can tell you that. I¡¯ve got bruises on my ass. It¡¯s like every rock here has pointy bits coming up in the worst possible places.¡± ¡°No. I mean all of it, the whole world... what¡¯s the point?¡± Jori gestured out at the dead landscape. ¡°There¡¯s nothing here except bugs, lichen and sometimes a soul or two, if you¡¯re lucky. And demons, of course. But we fight over it like it¡¯s some kind of paradise. Demon Kings and Lords control massive territories. They fight wars with each other all the time. Smaller demons serve the great ones to avoid destruction and to win souls. We make pacts with mortals to get them fresh, so we can grow even faster. All so we can get our own patch of rocks and bugs and lichen and fight other demons even more. But why? What¡¯s the point?¡± Ed shrugged. ¡°Souls, right? You just said it. Demons can¡¯t grow without souls.¡± ¡°But why?¡± Jori asked, pleading. ¡°For what? There¡¯s nothing to enjoy here. No good food, no interesting things to see or to discover, no friends, nothing with any kind of value. It¡¯s all fighting and gathering souls and growing and fighting again. Sure, you can fight and win wars, but what do you actually get at the end?¡± Ed scratched at the back of his neck. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I suppose it¡¯s not that different from back home, in that sense, just a lot darker. It¡¯s one of the big questions. Why are we here?¡± Jori rolled her eyes. ¡°We were banished!¡± ¡°You know what I meant, imp,¡± Ed grumped. ¡°It¡¯s a big question because there isn¡¯t an answer. Who¡¯s to say what the point of it all is? You have to decide for yourself how to give your life meaning. I always figured it¡¯s best not to overthink things.¡± ¡°Well, I can¡¯t help thinking, alright? I don¡¯t think there is a point,¡± Jori said. ¡°At least not here. This whole place is wrong. How is anyone supposed to be happy if everything is only terrible all the time?¡± Ed looked at Jori contemplatively for a long moment, then he slid down off the rock and turned to wiggle his fingers in the air a bit, like he did when he was casting a spell. The uneven surface of the rock flowed back, forming a back rest and smoothing the sitting surface in a very shallow bowl shape. Then he settled back down with a sigh and put his feet up on another rock. ¡°You know, Jori, I think you might be the first person crazy enough to ever ask that question here. Maybe that¡¯s why it¡¯s like this.¡± 3.26 Guerilla Demons ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡± Uriah said, glaring at Bernt. ¡°You¡¯re talking to a demon in the hells, and you¡¯re surprised we got ambushed?¡± ¡°Hey, watch it!¡± Elyn reprimanded him. ¡°Jori wouldn¡¯t betray us. She''s a friend.¡± ¡°Besides,¡± Torvald added reasonably, ¡°Ed is with her. Do you think he¡¯s the kind of person who would let something like that happen? You''re being ridiculous.¡± Uriah visibly controlled himself, seeing that nobody else was apparently on his side of the issue. ¡°Even then, you have to maintain some kind of connection, right? How many of those are there, running between our world and the hells? They can probably trace it right to you with the right kind of seeking spell.¡± ¡°What?¡± Bernt stared at his former coworker in genuine confusion. ¡°That¡¯s not how familiar bonds work. They¡¯re totally passive ¨C there¡¯s no metaphysical link or anything there to trace. That¡¯s why they¡¯re range-dependent. They probably just had the shade follow us. Didn¡¯t you go to the academy?¡± ¡°Companion-Bonds was part of an elective scrying course in Henfelden,¡± Uriah said defensively. ¡°I swapped it out for advanced agricultural water management. You still shouldn¡¯t trust a demon like that, regardless.¡± ¡°Your concerns are noted.¡± Bernt said shortly, instead of telling him to shut up. And Iriala had claimed he wasn¡¯t a natural diplomat. That would show her. ¡°The point is that Nuros wants her, and they think they need to kill me to get her loyalty. So, maybe they¡¯re after everyone here, sure, but they¡¯re definitely trying to kill me personally. I had to tell you, because you deserve to know that being near me will put you in danger.¡± Looking around, Bernt still wasn¡¯t sure that the severity of the situation was getting through to them. Elyn looked a little concerned, at least, and Uriah was obviously irritated, but he¡¯d still expected more of a response. ¡°Eh.¡± Nirlig said, shrugging. ¡°Did you see how they came at us? I mean, that wasn¡¯t an assassination. They were just trying to overrun us. That, or these demons were all idiots.¡± ¡°Or they didn¡¯t have very much time to plan the attack,¡± Torvald mused. ¡°We don¡¯t know exactly how well they¡¯ve been tracking us. Maybe they didn¡¯t expect us to be here today, or they couldn¡¯t get the warlocks they needed into place. That would explain why there weren¡¯t any Duergar soldiers, either. I don¡¯t think any of them were as dangerous as Jori, and she¡¯s not considered all that powerful, right?¡± Bernt nodded. ¡°Not as far as I saw. I don¡¯t really know about the ones that High Priest Hannis killed, but I¡¯m guessing a class four or five demon would have put up more of a fight. They also mostly fought by hand ¨C barely any magic. More powerful demons use shadows and hellfire and that horrible screaming thing that Josie has from her pact.¡± ¡°We got lucky.¡± Uriah summarized uncharitably. ¡°If they¡¯re following us below ground, then maybe we¡¯ll be fine, but we don¡¯t even know exactly where in the Depths the enemy lives. For all we know, we¡¯re walking toward their cities, and they¡¯ll be able to hit us properly the next time we camp too close to an access point.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Torvald allowed. ¡°Regardless, no one is under the illusion that this is a one-off attack. I¡¯ll talk to the priests, and make sure that we always have one of us on watch. Surin and Angjou can''t really fight, but I think they can sense an attack before they hit the sentries. A few seconds'' warning can make a big difference, especially with Hannis. You saw how terrified they were of him.¡± Bernt cleared his throat, ordering his thoughts. ¡°I think I can help with that, actually. Keeping them off of us, I mean. I¡¯ve been thinking about ways to protect myself from shades¡­¡± ¡°You mean that torch spell you¡¯ve been running around with all the time lately?" Torvald asked. "How many shades do you think they have?¡± ¡°No! I mean, that¡¯s what gave me the idea, but I¡¯m not sure this would actually work against shades. Otherwise I would have already used it. It probably won¡¯t stop the bigger imps, either, but¡­ just wait here. I¡¯ll show you.¡± Rising, Bernt wandered over to where Baron Regin was standing sentry, looking into the darkness with attention born from fear. The angry red light that had illuminated the camp earlier had dimmed considerably, fading slowly now that the conflict was past and letting the dark of night creep back in. The nervous man whirled around when he approached and sighed with relief. ¡°Ah, it''s you. Thank the gods! You know, once you see actual monsters come crawling out of the dark, those old childhood fears don¡¯t seem so childish anymore.¡± Bernt patted the skittish nobleman on the shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. We can have Nirlig take over again, or I''ll do it.¡± As Regin retreated back toward the fire, Bernt extended his right hand and began to cast. It was cold fire, modified in a very different manner than his banefire spell. His sorcerous investiture flexed in a way that was starting to feel more and more intuitive and he produced a thin stream of liquid silvery flames that shot out of a finger as he swept it down in a line. The spell only lasted for a second, but it worked. A low wall of fire danced merrily on the ground where he cast the flames, only a little more than a foot high. It barely put off any heat that he could feel from where he stood, and showed no signs of going out. Taking a few steps over, he did it again, curving the line a little bit to start forming a ring around the camp. If any other demons wanted to visit their camp tonight, they would at least get burned for their trouble. Not to mention the light, though relatively dim, would help with spotting intruders before they could strike. When he cast the spell for the third time, the others started to notice. ¡°Hey, are you trying to set the fields on fire?¡± one of the injured fighters called. ¡°Put that out!¡± ¡°Do you see any fire spreading?¡± Bernt called back, annoyed at the interruption. ¡°It¡¯s perfectly safe.¡± Another one of the adventurers that had been sitting with the man jogged over to examine the fire. She made a confused noise when she realized that some of the flames cut directly through clumps of tinder-dry grass without burning them. Bernt watched her poke a boot at it, followed by a finger. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°It¡¯s not even hot!¡± she exclaimed in surprise. That wasn¡¯t quite true, Bernt knew, but it wasn¡¯t anything like natural fire. Bernt smiled at her, doing his best not to look smug. ¡°Try telling that to the demons.¡± *** Tallash narrowed his eyes against the otherworldly glare emanating from the mortals¡¯ camp. The Conqueror¡¯s eye was closing as the god¡¯s attention waned ¨C finally. Soon, they would be able to strike again. Kill a few sentries, whittle down their numbers. By morning, there would be too few left to resist. Even a god¡¯s protection wouldn¡¯t save a mortal priest forever. They were born to die, while Tallash and his thralls could come back again and again. Not that it would come to that. He didn''t have time to do this slowly. His missing thralls, much to his surprise, hadn''t been killed or poached by a rival. No, they''d been captured by the imp ¨C the very same one whose mortal he was here to kill. That was good. He would wipe out these mortals tonight and return to the hells in time to capture the rebel imp for Nuros. Shivering in anticipation, Tallash reflected on his sheer luck. He''d only been granted this task because he''d discovered that his thralls were the imps'' cousins. Once he''d learned the truth, he''d shared it with his mistress, who spoke to Nuros. He had expected to find Dzhorianath alongside the warlock, but this was just as well. She''d delivered herself to him. A new light flared up, a slash of bright, unnatural white that burned Tallash¡¯s eyes before diminishingnto a soft silver flicker. He hissed softly and raised a hand against the glare as the mortal cast the spell again, then once more. There was a short interruption, then more fire. The flames were forming a ring around the camp. He recognized this type of fire from the battle at Halfbridge. Their mages had used it to burn demons, even those from the third hell. It took him another minute to realize that the ring wasn''t fading. It just kept burning, undiminished. Was the mage sustaining the spell? No¡­ he was sitting down, now. Not casting. This was going to be a problem. They had two tasks to accomplish here, and neither would be possible like this. Their mortal pactors demanded that this group be stopped and killed ¨C the sooner the better. Meanwhile, their masters¡¯ master, Nuros, thirsted for the blood of their warlock. The one whose thrall had destroyed his mortal vessel. Aelos had seen the target with this group earlier, but he hadn''t seen fit to point him out specifically to his peers. The arrogant shade had been destroyed in the skirmish earlier. The denizens of the fifth hell always thought too much of themselves, and he¡¯d paid the price. He wouldn¡¯t be reborn from the shadows for days yet. All the better. He wouldn¡¯t share in the reward. They couldn''t know which of the casters the warlock was ¨C not unless he began throwing hellfire around. But it didn''t matter, in the end. There would be no survivors. Next to him, a hag crouched, claws digging into the soil. She¡¯d seen the same thing he had, and understood the problem. Like him, Roaznis was a servant of Zijeregh, and therefore supposedly an equal. One day, he would devour the strength of her existence along with her flesh. ¡°Our thralls will be destroyed in the flames,¡± she rasped. ¡°They are too weak. And you and I are too few. Zijeregh will not be pleased. She will be forced to act personally, and she will etch her humiliation into our teeth.¡± Tallash clenched his teeth and glared at the mewling coward, hissing softly. He wouldn''t be stopped by mere fire ¨C he, who ate the burning flesh of demons. He bathed in hellfire rivers! ¡°If you had properly paralyzed the mortals when you were supposed to," he growled, "we would not be having this conversation.¡± ¡°I did not expect to be interrupted by an ogre!¡± she replied angrily. ¡°By the time I chased it off, your thralls were scattering.¡± ¡°You didn''t kill it?!¡± The hag scoffed, not bothering to reply. Tallash didn''t push the point ¨C why argue with a rival who had just admitted weakness? "We will not be stopped by a simple wall of flame,¡± he replied, returning to the matter at hand. ¡°They will not be able to carry it with them when they move.¡± Roaznis looked as if she wanted to argue, but a look from Tallash silenced her. She knew which of them was greater. *** Bernt wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d expected from the demons, but giving up wasn¡¯t it. Only half of the adventurers were still in fighting shape after a single ambush, though all of the legitimators and invigilators had come away practically unscathed. No one wanted to think about what might happen if the demons caught them unawares again. Bernt¡¯s lopsided ring of cold fire had raised a few questions in the camp, but no one had complained once he¡¯d explained himself. He wasn¡¯t sure if it would be enough to kill any demons outright, but it would serve as a deterrent, at least. Nobody liked to be burned. He could have intensified the flames, of course, but he didn¡¯t dare. If he miscalculated, the spell might exhaust the ambient mana more quickly than it could replenish itself. Then, the fire might go out in some areas while he was asleep, leaving gaps. Not that anyone could sleep. The camp had stayed awake through the night, some due to traumatic injuries and most out of simple paranoia. The sense of exhausted relief that shivered through the camp when the sun rose without another attack was palpable. Moving slowly and deliberately, they packed up their belongings, loaded the one-legged ranger into a cart, and set off. Bernt kept the fire burning until the last moment, extinguishing the circle only when they started to move. The horses, like the people, were exhausted after the stressful night, and progress was slower than the previous day. Nobody felt like talking, and their small column made its way down the road in near silence. Even Nirlig kept his head down. After an hour, it started to rain ¨C a cold, unwelcome drizzle blown directly into their faces by a steady southern wind, obscuring their sight and making every bit of exposed skin go numb. Only Uriah was unaffected. Water seemed to bounce right off of the hydromancer. The smug bastard. Bernt resolved to work on his control over water, if only to keep himself dry in the future. Or, maybe he could adapt a pyromancy spell. Rain couldn¡¯t reach him if he vaporized it before it struck, right? But that would require a mobile fire shield, which was something he''d never heard of. Barrier spells of all kinds had to have a clearly defined and stable location to be effective, otherwise an opposing spell or force could move or disperse it like any other spell. The hot steam might be a problem for people near him, too. Bernt felt, rather than heard the attack start. Something was¡­ wrong. He whirled, peering into the bushes and seeing nothing. Something chittered, then a twig broke. There were hisses, shouts. Bernt raised a numb right hand and began casting banefire, even as the adventurers drew weapons. A chimeric, skinless wolf creature dragged itself out of the bushes. Its upper body glistened revoltingly with some kind of slime before transitioning to scales and the tail of a serpent near the middle. Before he could release the spell, Nirlig lunged forward and pinned the thing with his spear, keeping his distance as best he could. No hellfire spat forth from the wound, and the creature recoiled in pain. Probably not from the third hell, then. Shapes leapt out, intercepted by adventurers ¨C too close for Bernt to strike with fire. Eyes finally adjusting to the gloomy undergrowth, Bernt spotted a tall humanoid creature, nearly bent double as though it had a hump. Its hair was gray and ragged and hung down nearly to the ground. As he watched, it spread its too-long arms wide, raised a remarkably hideous face to the sky and screamed. Bernt activated the spell, flinching back in anticipation of what would come next. The peal of a bell drowned out all sound, resonating with something deep inside Bernt and overpowering the hag¡¯s sorcery before it could begin to take effect. Adventurers hacked, stabbed and kicked at the attackers, pushing them back. Out of the corner of his eye, Bernt watched a gray-haired man leap into the bushes. Bloody light seemed to emanate from the air around him. This time, the demons hadn¡¯t caught them napping. 3.27 A True Death Bernt¡¯s banefire spell clipped the hag¡¯s flank as she tried to dodge. She shrieked in pain and again the sound didn¡¯t reach Bernt¡¯s ears. Someone was protecting them from the creature¡¯s withering screams. It fell to the ground and writhed in agony as the spell devoured its flesh. Two imps burst from the trees, hissing as they dove down at the adventurers. Bernt caught one with a handful of manaburn as Nirlig tried to sweep the other out of the air. The burning imp crashed to the ground, flailing in panic. The goblin missed his target and the second imp hissed angrily, making a familiar throwing motion as it landed. A sticky gobbet of hellfire shot from its hand, but Torvald intercepted the projectile with the flat of his blade, slashing back up and taking one of the imp¡¯s arms off in the same motion. The weapon came out glowing hot. Bernt''s own target was flailing on the ground, still trying to put itself out, even though it didn''t actually appear to be burning. It was just a spawnling, but imps were resistant to fire ¨C it wasn''t hot enough. Bernt finished it off with a bolt of banefire, wincing as he released the spell. He couldn''t help but see Jori in the little demon. It felt... wrong to kill it. Cruel. A strangled cry broke Bernt out of the moment. He whirled to find Nirlig on his back, a monstrous creature pinning him down, held back only by the shaft of the goblin¡¯s spear. The thing¡¯s arms and legs were much too long and thin and its head was misshapen, with a sort of muzzle and long, sharp teeth that protruded out as it tried to bite at Nirlig¡¯s face. It was larger and leaner, and this one only had two arms, but Bernt still recognized the weird slimy skin, creepy teeth and lidless eyes. This was a demon like the one that Jori had caught and killed in the sewers under the alchemist''s lab months ago¡ªa fiend. He began casting banefire again, but Uriah, who had likely been preparing for his moment this entire time, was faster. A loose grayish ball of fire shot out from the hydromancer''s outstretched hand directly into the thing¡¯s monstrous face. It screeched in pain and reeled back, skin blackening and cracking in the unnatural flame, but it didn¡¯t die as it should have. As Nirlig scrambled back, the thing lunged forward, swiping one of its too-long arms at Uriah. He backed up and swung his staff at the thing like a club, maintaining as much distance as he could. The fiend blocked the heavy hardwood easily, taking the blow on one of its arms with a crack. Then Bernt¡¯s own banefire spell was ready. The pyromancer¡¯s much more cohesive spell struck the monster in what passed for its ribs, eliciting a pained screech. It staggered back, wheezing, then it caught itself and growled. Its blackened ribs were exposed to daylight, and Bernt could see hideously damaged organs underneath, yet it still didn¡¯t die. It lunged once more, only to find Torvald standing in the way, sword extended. It hesitated for a moment, and the paladin struck, only to find empty air where his enemy had been. ¡°Wait!¡± bellowed an authoritative voice. It was Hannis. The high priest had come out of the bushes behind the monster and yanked it back, saving it from Torvald¡¯s killing stroke. ¡°I''d like to have a talk with this one before we send it on its way.¡± Bernt blinked and looked around. Demon corpses lay scattered in the road and the bushes, where adventurers had taken them down. Despite how intense the fight had felt, nobody on their side was down. They¡¯d beaten the ambush back easily. Nirlig had a few scratches, and there were scorch marks on Torvald¡¯s armor, but they were fine. ¡°We¡¯re lucky we didn¡¯t get hit by that hag¡¯s screams,¡± Bernt realized out loud. ¡°We would have been defenseless.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Elyn said a little breathlessly. She was standing at the back, eyes wide and clutching some kind of metal fork. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that actually worked!¡± ¡°That was you?¡± Bernt stared, mind working. ¡°How did you know to try it?¡± ¡°Jori told me about how different kinds of demons fight. She was always hanging around that warlock girl at work. Hags use aural magic, just like bards. You can disrupt it, if you know what you¡¯re doing.¡± She held up the metal thing, and gave a weak smile. ¡°Special tuning fork. Works against other bards, too.¡± Bernt heard cursing and looked back toward the demon in time to see Captain Emata emerge from the bushes, berating the high priest of Noruk for running off into the undergrowth without backup. ¡°Never, ever break ranks to run into a concealed position! Are you trying to get killed? There could have been anything in those bushes! If you think I¡¯m coming in after you every time¡ª¡± Then fiend squirmed and hissed, earning a lightning-fast punch to the face from Hannis. It continued to struggle, apparently unimpressed by the old man¡¯s strength. Captain Emata stepped in behind it and whipped the pommel of her sword into the base of its neck, never interrupting her tirade. The demon dropped to the ground again. ¡°¡ªyou are sorely mistaken. You think your god is going to save you from a tactical error like that every time? You''re practically begging to¡ª" Hannis raised a hand, cutting her off. ¡°Enough! I will not fight standing in a line and cowering behind a shield like a common infantryman.¡± He glared down his nose at the younger woman. ¡°I am not one of your recruits, Captain, nor am I bound to military discipline like the paladins of our order. I will fight as it pleases Noruk.¡± Emata glowered, but she didn¡¯t argue as she sheathed her sword. Seeing that the danger was past, others gathered to see what the commotion was about. Surin, meanwhile, was treating the few injuries that had been sustained. Before anyone could react, the demon gathered its legs underneath it and launched itself at the high priest of Noruk, its too-long arms extended. There was a crack and a loud squeal, followed by a flash of light. Hannis had moved faster than the eye could follow, ducking underneath the demon¡¯s grasp and catching one of the fiend¡¯s limbs as he did. The limb in question was now twisted behind the thing¡¯s back at an unnatural angle, clearly broken. ¡°Where are the Duergar?¡± Hannis asked, giving the broken limb a little twist for emphasis. The fiend gave a breathless cry. ¡°Agh! I can¡¯t ¨C ¡± Hannis twisted it a little more, making an unpleasant popping noise. The thing jerked violently, then shuddered and hissed. ¡°I¡­ can¡­ not¡­¡± ¡°Who is your master? What¡¯s his name?¡± Hannis asked impatiently, apparently accepting that the demon couldn¡¯t answer. ¡°I serve Zijeregh," it hissed, "devourer of will and servant of Nuros, chosen of Varamemnon. ¡± ¡°That¡¯s something, I guess, but immaterial. Who are your Duergar masters?¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°I have no mortal mas ¨C Agh!¡± Hannis twisted contemptuously to cut the creature off. ¡°Let¡¯s try it again. Who summoned you?¡± ¡°I am bound by pact! I cannot say!¡± the demon gasped. ¡°What good are you, then? Tell me what you can. When you were summoned? Were you underground or on the surface? ¡± ¡°Underground. We came up as the sun set. Last night!¡± ¡°Finally,¡± Hannis grumbled, slamming an open hand down on the back of the fiend¡¯s burnt head, ¡°something at least.¡± Light flared, and the demon collapsed on the ground bonelessly. Ignoring the corpse, the priest turned to the assembled group. ¡°The Duergar are following us, probably from below, and sending demons up to harass us. Unless we want to get hit again, we should hurry to reach Lochholme before they have a chance to resummon their little squad of assassins.¡± Hannis kicked at the dead demon. ¡°Or before this one tries to get its superiors involved.¡± *** Jori took a running leap over the cliff edge, spreading her wings as she did. It wasn¡¯t a very tall cliff, but you had to get your fun where you could. This place was empty, even for the hells ¨C she hadn¡¯t seen another demon in days. Not a lot of souls here. It was a desert, even by demon standards. What had Tallash done to get such a crummy foraging assignment? Then again, he was a fiend who ate the only demons he could bully into his service. He had probably never been destined for greatness. It wasn¡¯t just that he was a monster, no. He was stupid, too. And he was going to die. Soon. Jori shivered in anticipation as she circled around, aiming for the cave-entrance that Ed had made at the base of the low cliff. Pulling her wings in just in time, she shot through the doorway and landed at a run, taking a few steps to slow down. ¡°Dzhorianath, you¡¯re back!¡± Maladzhoth called out, obviously relieved. ¡°I thought we were going to be stuck in here until I could melt through the wall.¡± Sure enough, two of the thick stone columns that made up the cell were glassy and pitted near the bottom, though they didn¡¯t really look any thinner. It would probably take days to get through ¨C maybe longer. It made Jori wonder what Ed had done to the stone. She could melt normal stones in seconds. Two more imps huddled in the cell, both of them chittering softly in the natural language of demons ¨C wondering where the great one had gone to and asking each other if they had any food. They weren¡¯t very smart, yet. ¡°Stop that!¡± Jori snapped. ¡°We will be back soon. If you damage the cell, I¡¯m not going to give you any food. I¡¯ll make you eat bugs and give everyone else the real food.¡± She¡¯d been sharing some of her jerky with the prisoners, trying to show them what the world had to offer if you gave it a chance. Imps didn¡¯t need much to sustain themselves ¨C she ate mostly for pleasure ¨C but it was important to show her cousins what they were missing. She didn''t really know what she was doing, but Bernt had started with feeding her, and she''d turned out great! Maladzhoth, appropriately chastised, sat back in the cell. ¡°What are you doing out there? Where is the Great Mage?¡± ¡°None of your business! Tell me why you disappeared. Who summoned you?¡± Maladzhoth grimaced uncomfortably. ¡°It¡¯s a secret. I can¡¯t tell.¡± Jori scoffed. ¡°I know it was the Duergar. Who were you fighting? What was the mission?¡± The other imp shrugged. ¡°Attack mortals sleeping in the night. We got some, but the others fought back, and one of them got me.¡± Maladzhoth rubbed at his chest. ¡°He had a big stick. It hurt.¡± Jori snorted derisively and shook her head. He¡¯d been killed by a guy with a stick? How embarrassing! ¡°Was Tallash there?¡± ¡°Hiding in the back, I''m sure¡± he hissed, scowling. ¡°There were others, too. A strong shade and a hag with their thralls. They got many of us.¡± Thralls. Jori hated that word. It was a term demons only used for their lowest servants. Those who were too weak to do anything but serve, to weak to pursue their own interests. They were fodder for the great ones¡¯ armies, and literal food for the fiends. ¡°Where are the others? Do you think they lost?¡± ¡°There was a priest at the end. He called down terror from the sky. A red eye, burning bright. It was watching us¡­¡± Maladzhoth subsided with a shiver. Jori turned and left. Whatever the other imp was talking about, Tallash would be back soon, she was sure. She needed to hurry. When he arrived, they had to be ready. *** Tallash felt something pop as he snapped back to consciousness, like a drop of rain striking the river of flames. There was a familiar sense of falling, followed by a nauseating spinning sensation and heat. So much heat. Then the pain receded and he opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground, the stones all around him scorched and slightly melted with the hellfire in which he¡¯d been reborn. Humiliation burned in the fiend¡¯s heart. Those arrogant mortals! They had burned him. Him! With some kind of unnatural fire. How could such a thing exist? And he¡¯d been killed. By an unarmed, old mortal human. He¡¯d been made a fool of. Now, he would have to wait for the Duergar to summon him again and hope that they didn¡¯t report his failure to Zijeregh. This had to be Roaznis¡¯ fault. The filthy hag hadn¡¯t paralyzed the mortals as she¡¯d promised. She¡¯d failed in the first ambush as well. Was she working with the enemy, somehow? It shouldn¡¯t be possible. She had to be bound by pact to the Duergar at least, just as he was! He would have to report his suspicion to Zijeregh. If she wasn¡¯t a traitor, her incompetence should see her destroyed all the same. A suffocating weight suddenly pressed down on him, crushing him to the ground. Tallash gasped, eyes rolling. What was that? There was motion, then claws raked at his belly. They didn¡¯t break his thick skin, but it still hurt. A hairy, gray bearded face loomed over him. It was hideous. It was the mortal and the traitor imp! How had they found him so quickly?! Hellfire blocked his vision as the imp flung a gobbet directly into his face. It didn¡¯t do anything, of course. The stupid imp¡¯s hellfire could never touch him. He could swim in the rivers of this world! Tallash writhed against the weight, feeling for the edges of the strange spell. There! He could move his left hand. The weight wasn¡¯t solid ¨C more like an impossibly heavy blanket laid on top of him. If he could just pull himself out from under it¡­ The imp kept throwing fire, and Tallash dug his claws into the ground and pulled. He felt himself move, the rocks underneath him scraping uncomfortably against his back. ¡°Are you done?¡± The mortal asked, sounding exasperated. The insolent creature kicked him in the ribs with a hiss and disappeared from view. ¡°Now I¡¯m done.¡± ¡°Do not turn your back on me, meat!¡± Tallash growled through clenched teeth. He needed to buy time. ¡°I will strip the flesh from your pactor¡¯s bones and bind you into my service. Nuros will reward me with a city, and Varamemnon will know my name!¡± He scrabbled for purchase, finding solid rock and hauled again. He was going to make it. The mortal was still distracted, not looking. Pulling as hard as he could, Tallash got an elbow free and began to twist himself free. ¡°Slippery bastard, aren¡¯t you?¡± the mortal said, and the weight came crashing down again with a vengeance. Tallash groaned with frustration and impotent rage. This couldn¡¯t be happening. Not again. Not here. The mortal¡¯s eyes met his and they were cold and blank. There was no rage, no hunger, and no glee there. Then he narrowed his eyes in concentration, and raised one hand. Tallash heard a soft snap and everything went red before fading to black. 3.28 Emancipation ¡°Well, thank the gods that¡¯s over.¡± Ed said with feeling, turning away from the corpse. He¡¯d started to feel like he¡¯d be stuck in this hellhole forever, sitting in a cave with nobody but imps for company. All things considered, it could have been worse, but that wasn¡¯t saying much. Jori scuttled off over the rocks, back toward the cave. ¡°Come on! We have to check on the others.¡± By the time he got back, the cell was packed with imps, several of them singed a bit by the fiery arrival of those who came later. Jori was standing in front of the cell, telling the story of Tallash¡¯s demise with some obvious exaggerations. The imps chattered excitedly as he entered, a few even mustering a cheer. ¡°He¡¯s dead?!¡± ¡°Is it true?¡± ¡°What are they going to do?¡± ¡°They¡¯re lying!¡± "Shut up, they haven''t even said anything yet!" ¡°Quiet!¡± Ed bawled, and the noise level dropped to a more manageable level. ¡°Tallash is dead. You can go look at his body if it makes you happy. Anybody who tries to take a poke at me or Jori there is going to get turned into jelly. Do we all understand each other?¡± A chorus of affirmatives and a few whimpers of ¡°great one¡± sounded from the cell. Ed looked to Jori for confirmation. It was her show, technically. She nodded, but then held up a hand to stop him. ¡°You are free now.¡± she began, clearly unsure of what to say. ¡°Free of obligation." The imps stopped chattering, suddenly paying rapt attention. ¡°The Duergar will summon you again, probably, but nothing is binding you to them. You can tell them no! All they can do is send you back. You can let the mortals bind you into service for their scraps, if you like. You can try to make your own way here, if you want, until the next powerful demon takes you or the fiends snatch you. You can try to survive alone, or you can help the great ones fight over barren foraging grounds as they always have.¡± Jori spat on the ground to illustrate what she thought of these conventional options. ¡°Or, we can work together. We can visit the mortal planes without serving as fodder in a stupid war, and enjoy all the nice things there! Tasty food, interesting things to see, and friends. Mortal friends! We can forage for ourselves, and help the spawnlings grow. Souls are sparse here, but so are those who can threaten us. I''m not asking you to submit ¨C I¡¯m asking you to choose.¡± The imp nodded to herself, then at Ed. Then, she whirled and held up her little bag. ¡°Oh, and I have food! No bugs for our pack.¡± It was a pretty good speech, Ed thought. For an imp, anyway. He sketched a couple of runes into the air, opening the enclosure. He held a shield spell prepared, just in case one tried to fling a fistful of hellfire into his face, but nothing happened. They spilled forth, milling around the cave. A few darted out the door, probably unwilling to trust Jori¡¯s good intentions, but something like fifteen of them stayed put. It was hard to count them, running around like that. ¡°Jori, when¡¯s your next appointment with the Solicitors?¡± he called over the chatter. ¡°I believe I¡¯ve fulfilled the conditions of our little agreement.¡± The imp grinned up at him. ¡°You did! It should be in a few hours ¨C it¡¯s hard to tell time exactly here, but I¡¯ll get you home.¡± Ed sat down in his usual spot and pulled out his pipe and his bag of tobacco, letting the familiar motions calm him. He hadn''t wanted to admit it, even to himself, but he''d been worried that Jori would try to rope him into another scheme. She had a lot of leverage right now. When he looked up, smoke beginning to curl up from the bowl, Jori was standing directly in front of him, watching him with clear apprehension. ¡°You¡¯ll let me keep my job, right? On the payroll? It¡¯s not my fault I can¡¯t show up. The Solicitors are illegally interfering with my duties, alright?¡± Ed chuckled. ¡°Relax, I won¡¯t ruin Josie¡¯s case. Besides, that would be illegal termination. I signed the damned contract, didn¡¯t I?¡± *** The wrenching sensation lasted only for a second, then the stink of sulfur and dirty water was replaced by herbal smoke. Sage, lavender¡­ something citrus? Did they actually need that, or was it just to improve the atmosphere? Letting go of her passenger, Jori shook out her hand. Nobody had warned her that she would have to hold Ed¡¯s entire weight with her claws during the transition. She¡¯d barely managed to snatch him as she felt the summoning take hold of her, and her grip hadn¡¯t been that great. A middle-aged woman was doing the summoning today, with the assistance of Finn, the youngest of the Solicitors. Jori didn¡¯t know her name, but she supposed it didn¡¯t matter. The warlock took a step back in surprise, eyes wide. Then she smiled. ¡°Archmage, welcome back!¡± ¡°Phelia. Glad to see the place is still standing.¡± Ed took a deep breath and let out a sigh. ¡°Where¡¯s Radast?¡± ¡°He¡¯s in a meeting with the new Halfbridge General Labor Union right now, but you can wait for him if you like. He should be back soon.¡± Ed frowned. ¡°The what?¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Phelia sighed. ¡°It''s a whole mess. Wages for unskilled laborers have collapsed with all the refugees coming in. Everybody needs to find a way to make ends meet, and some of the guilds are taking advantage by undercutting wages for everyone who isn¡¯t protected by their charters.¡± ¡°The refugees¡­ from Loamfurth?¡± Ed asked mildly as he stepped out of the summoning circle. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°I just wanted to be sure. I''m still catching up to current events.¡± Phelia furrowed her brow in confusion, but dropped the issue. ¡°It¡¯s nothing for you to worry about, I¡¯m sure. You can use our waiting room, or you¡¯re welcome to come back another time. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re eager to get some fresh air.¡± Ed chuckled mirthlessly. ¡°You have no idea.¡± The Solicitor turned to Jori. ¡°Dzhorianath, I believe that concludes our business for the time being. Thank you for your cooperation in this matter. We will summon you again when and if Solicitor Josie¡¯s case necessitates it. Good day.¡± ¡°Hey, wait a minute!¡± Jori interrupted as the woman moved to banish her again. ¡°What about the supplies?¡± She stopped and raised her eyebrows. ¡°What? The archmage has been returned ¨C I believe that means that portion of the agreement has been fulfilled.¡± ¡°Oh, just give her the damned bag. Don¡¯t be an ass.¡± Ed grabbed the bundle on the floor and tossed it to her. Jori caught it and held it protectively. They¡¯d tried to shortchange her with a technicality! ¡°Do you have any idea what a shithole that place is?¡± Ed growled at the woman, who looked back and forth between the two of them uncertainly. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving one of my people in there without so much as a godsdamned snack.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± the warlock sighed, nicking her finger with a small pen knife and bending down to touch the summoning circle. ¡°But you get to explain it to the boss if he says anything.¡± Ed scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ve got a few things to say to him myself.¡± Then Jori was falling down and back through nothing. It was an uncomfortable sensation, though at least it was quick. The familiar sulfurous odor of the hells filled her nose even before she could see again. The cave was empty now ¨C all the imps had been sent out to forage. Those who had remained looked to her for leadership, or at least some kind of guidance on what to do next. They needed to work together. On Ed¡¯s recommendation, Jori had split them into three groups, each led by one of the bigger imps: Maladzhoth, Xoriath and Serionoth. They would find errant souls and teach the spawnlings to feed ¨C something they would have been forbidden to do without Tallash¡¯s explicit permission before. Assuming she could get them to control their own appetites, of course. Only those who performed some special service would have been allowed to grow under the normal hierarchy. Jori didn¡¯t ask what those three had done to impress Tallash. This was just how it was in the hells. Until now. *** The expedition emerged from the shadow of the trees onto open fields, sloping gently down toward the biggest lake Bernt had ever seen. Lake Sul was the largest body of water in the entire country, and he could barely make out the hazy shapes of mountains on the far side, leagues in the distance. Much closer, a city lay wedged between the lake and the river that fed it ¨C Lochholme. They¡¯d reached the Sul river the day before and more or less followed it here. At Hannis¡¯ urging, they¡¯d traveled quickly, eating on the go and making camp late. The Duergar would have to stop to resummon the demons, and they most likely wouldn''t be able to follow them from below in a straight line. The trek was exhausting, cold and miserable. Still, Bernt ringed the camp with cold fire each night, and on the second night, Leirin began sowing some kinds of pointy, star-shaped seeds outside the ring to add another layer of defense. But they hadn¡¯t been attacked again and now, three days later, here they were. They reached the gates before dusk, where a guard gave them directions to an inn. They headed toward it, getting a feel for the place as they did. It was, at a glance, a beautiful city with imposing architecture, grand monuments and straight, level streets that spoke of obvious city planning. Despite that, though, it was clear that Lochholme had seen better days. The steady but modest trickle of traffic looked anemic on the broad, well-worn streets. More than a few of the outwardly beautiful buildings stood obviously abandoned with doors and windows left gaping open. Despite that, people here moved with purpose, their heads held high. The inn was an expensive looking place, and Bernt saw the avaricious glint in the innkeeper¡¯s eye as he took in the priests¡¯ carriage. Torvald was probably saving himself quite a bit of money by walking with the guards instead of sitting in there with the priests. He, along with most of the adventurers, bought beds in shared rooms ¨C the cheapest available at a silver mark per night. In a place like this, even those would be clean and comfortable. The priests, Leirin, and Regin were accustomed to better accommodations, though, and they opted for their own rooms. They¡¯d made good time, and would be staying a few days to recover and plan for the rest of the trip. Now that they knew they were being tracked, they would need to prepare for future demon attacks. A few adventurers with debilitating burn scarring would need to be put on a boat to Teres for treatment. The ranger whose leg had nearly been burned off would be going with them as well in hopes of getting help from the Artificer¡¯s Guild there. He was going to lose the limb, no matter what, and they might be able to produce a suitable prosthetic ¨C otherwise his adventuring days were over. Bernt¡¯s group went to find something to eat, sampling the offerings of the local street vendors. The city was more cosmopolitan than Halfbridge, despite its smaller size. There were large numbers of dwarves and gnomes, and far more goblins than back home. Vendors hawked a broad variety of fish dishes, many of which were garnished or cooked with various kinds of fruits, despite the season. The local delicacy, a particular lake fish called a ¡°garron¡±, was baked with candied peaches in large clay ovens that were set into some street corners and sold to passersby in lopsided, single-use clay bowls. Nirlig had to try it, of course. ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound like it should work ¨C it shouldn¡¯t work. But you have to try this!¡± he gushed, holding the bowl out to Torvald, who gave it a skeptical look. ¡°The juice caramelizes on the salted fish and the flavor is just incredible. Try it!¡± Elyn leaned in and sniffed at it, then looked contemplatively at the vendor before going to get her own bowl. Bernt had opted for some pickled fish on a bun, sold by a surly looking human woman ¨C you couldn¡¯t go wrong with something simple, and he was too hungry to be adventurous tonight. Maybe tomorrow. As Elyn returned, he caught sight of a small sign and cleared his throat. ¡°Listen, guys. I need to drop by the Mages¡¯ Guild to send news back home. And I want to get a look at their library as soon as possible ¨C they might have more information on sorcery.¡± He glanced over at Uriah, meeting his eyes. ¡°You should come along, actually. If we can find the right information, we might be able to do something about your¡­ condition.¡± Uriah looked away and then coughed in embarrassment. ¡°I¡­ ah.. I can¡¯t. I¡¯m not a guild member.¡± Bernt blinked. ¡°You¡¯re not?¡± ¡°No. Membership isn¡¯t required to be an Underkeeper. And the guild can¡¯t help me, regardless," he added defensively. "It would have been an enormous waste of gold.¡± ¡°Right. Well, you should come, anyway,¡± Bernt insisted. ¡°We can ask them where you can go to get that staff fixed. If you want it done in time, it¡¯s best to get started on that as soon as possible.¡± 3.29 Whisperer The guild was a beautiful structure that, like much of the city, dated back to imperial times, with high ceilings, carved marble columns and a general sense of gravitas that Halfbridge lacked. While it was clean and mages moved about their business as they did back home, entire wings of the massive complex were roped off and mothballed, including its defunct research department. Leaving Uriah at the front desk to ask the receptionist about reliable enchanters, Bernt followed the signs to his destination. Lochholme¡¯s library was, simply put, a crushing disappointment. The massive room was half-empty and stocked primarily with basic elemental texts. There was quite a bit available on pyromancy, but it was nothing Bernt didn¡¯t have access to back home. When Bernt asked the librarian for information on summoning, planar theory, and sorcery, she¡¯d just shrugged. ¡°All the interesting stuff got transferred to Teres years ago. The guildmaster at the time had some kind of feud with the Archwizard in charge of the research wing here and dissolved the whole department. They gutted the library as an afterthought. We¡¯ve been trying to rebuild for decades, but mostly we can just get copies of what everyone else already has.¡± Bernt left almost immediately, disappointed. Uriah was gone by the time he got back, so he¡¯d probably found somewhere to get his staff repaired. For the first time in well over a week, Bernt was alone, safe, and with time on his hands. He stopped a passing mage with a wave. ¡°Hey, is there someplace here to practice spells in private?¡± *** The sensation was as disorienting as ever, but Bernt knew what to expect by now. One moment, he was sitting next to his carefully chalked portal circle, the next he was watching a pack of imps devour what looked like small, slightly charred pancakes. What? ¡°Bernt!¡± Jori said out loud, pushing back against his consciousness even as he did the same to her. It was something they¡¯d worked out back in Halfbridge. Mentally closing themselves off a bit helped to muffle some of the more disorienting aspects of their link. Talking out loud was a good way to focus their thoughts and communicate clearly. ¡°Are you teaching a cooking class?¡± Bernt asked, only half-joking. One of the imps had set their pancake on fire. ¡°I¡¯m teaching them about real food.¡± Jori corrected, lightly smacking the offending imp in the back of the head. ¡°Don¡¯t burn it, it¡¯s going to taste like sulfur and ash!¡± ¡°Where¡¯s Ed? I can¡¯t believe he agreed to this.¡± Bernt laughed. ¡°Ed is gone ¨C I took him home. We killed Tallash!¡± Jori said, pride radiating in her chest. It wasn¡¯t just pride, though. Anxiety twisted in her belly. ¡°Are you alright? What happened?¡± ¡°The Duergar summoned him a few days ago. Him and the imps. We found the spot where he was summoned from, and set a trap for him. When he returned, Ed smushed him.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great! So¡­ what¡¯s the problem? The other imps are free, right? Are you going to keep them?¡± Jori moved away from the other imps. Some of them looked at her curiously, but she waved them down and ducked out of the cave. ¡°I couldn¡¯t hurt him. Not with my fire, or my claws.¡± Jori admitted quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t think he was much more powerful than I am, maybe class 3. But fiends are built to kill us. How can I protect the pack from more of them?¡± Bernt frowned. ¡°Maybe you need weapons. Most humans can¡¯t fight well without them. If your natural tools aren¡¯t good enough, you should use something else.¡± Jori looked down at herself and Bernt saw that she was wearing her robes. They were a bit frayed, now, but she was probably still one of the best-dressed demons in the hells. Most simply didn¡¯t wear clothes or use tools. There was no good reason for that, that Bernt had ever understood. Jori agreed. ¡°What kind of weapon would hurt a fiend, though? A knife wouldn¡¯t be sharper than my claws.¡± Bernt thought for a moment. ¡°You could try a poison of some kind, or some kind of blunt weapon. Their skin is tough, but you might still be able to break their bones. They might also be vulnerable in some areas, like the eyes. There are a lot of things you can try. You can even try them all at once, now that you have all these other imps to help.¡± Jori nodded to herself, and he could feel the wheels turning in her head. ¡°Demons don¡¯t seem to use weapons very much.¡± Bernt went on. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s just culture, or something more fundamental, but fighting and war is about creativity. That¡¯s what Therion was trying to teach me with our sparring lessons. Do you remember? None of the demons that attacked us on the road used anything besides their own bodies to fight. As far as I can tell, there wasn¡¯t even any kind of structure to their ambush when they came for us on the road. What...what is it?¡± Icy shock shot through Jori and Bernt lost all sense of direction as she whirled around and scuttled back into the cave, shock quickly transforming into red hot rage. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°You attacked my mortals?! My friends?¡± The imps shrank back, eyes wide. All except one, one that Bernt recognized. It was the same one that Uriah had killed with the staff during the first attack. ¡°We don¡¯t know which mortals they were, we just followed our orders,¡± he said calmly, though his eyes narrowed and his voice took on an edge as he went on. ¡°I told you we would ¨C Tallash still lived. Besides, it worked out fine for you. We were the ones who were crushed and burned. Barely any of them even died." Bernt felt Jori suppress the urge to attack him. His own feelings toward them were ambivalent. He still wasn¡¯t sure exactly how demons normally enforced their hierarchies, but he didn¡¯t imagine that they were gentle about it. He didn¡¯t trust them ¨C not around mortals ¨C but he didn¡¯t have to. They were in the hells. Besides, they were Jori¡¯s imps now. ¡°It''s fine. Just tell them to break any pacts they might have with the Duergar," he told her. "If they come sneaking into our camp again, I¡¯m going to make them regret it.¡± *** When Bernt returned to the inn, he expected the others to have already turned in for the night. The trip so far had been grueling, with sleepless nights and long hours of walking in uncomfortable conditions. So, he was surprised to find Torvald, Nirlig and Elyn sitting together at a table in front of the bar with a stout old man. He was dressed in an expensive-looking jacket and shiny black riding boots, both with enchantments so powerful that Bernt could sense them from across the room. His long beard was tied together with a heavy gold ring. Flagging down the barmaid, Bernt ordered a pint and joined them, pulling a chair over from another table. Torvald nodded in greeting and turned to the old man. ¡°Uncle Olias, this is Bernt, my legitimator. We thought we¡¯d be able to avoid¡­ this. My mother thought the king wouldn¡¯t want to step on Count Narald¡¯s toes.¡± ¡°Oh, he doesn¡¯t!¡± the older man laughed. ¡°Far be it from me to replace your lawfully appointed legitimator.¡± He winked at Bernt and took a drink from his cup. ¡°No, my brother just wants to make sure we have someone of sufficient rank present to observe the proceedings at the Peaks. Officially, anyway. And who could fault me for wanting to get to know my young grandnephew a bit on the way? Asra never visits, you know.¡± His brother? Bernt groaned inwardly. Torvald had thought that getting him appointed as his legitimator would protect him from interference from his family in Teres. Apparently he¡¯d been wrong. Nirlig coughed. ¡°But isn¡¯t that exactly what the legitimators are for?¡± Olias laughed congenially. ¡°No, no, my sharp-toothed friend! Legitimators are there to monitor the actions of individual representatives of the Invigilation on Beseri territory.¡± He pointed at Bernt. ¡°That one technically isn¡¯t even required to accompany my young nephew there all the way to the Peaks. He could just stay in Norhold and wait for it all to be over,¡± he leaned over toward Bernt and added in a loud, inebriated whisper, ¡°which is what I would be doing in your place, by the way. They grow a really excellent white wine there and the cheese!¡± He closed his eyes in rapture at the memory. Bernt shook his head in bewilderment. The king had sent this guy to pull Torvald into their family¡¯s political games? ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you''re Torvald''s... uncle?¡± Bernt asked. Torvald coughed in embarrassment. ¡°Ah, sorry. This is my great uncle Olias. Prince Olias, technically, and brother to the king.¡± ¡°Very technically,¡± Olias added. ¡°I was removed from the line of succession as soon as my brother came of age. Not that I mind. It¡¯s the most miserable job in the world ¨C I¡¯d rather be a shepherd in goblin territory than try to run a country.¡± He winked at Nirlig, who did not smile back. Elyn coughed awkwardly. ¡°So, any news from home? And where¡¯s Uriah?¡± ¡°I won¡¯t get a response until tomorrow at the earliest,¡± Bernt replied. ¡°They didn¡¯t have any messages waiting for us. Uriah went to get his staff repaired ¨C I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be back soon.¡± He¡¯d have to send a follow-up to let the archmage know about Olias. She likely wouldn¡¯t be too bothered ¨C the interests of the crown and the Mages¡¯ Guild were aligned, as far as Bernt understood them. Torvald was another matter, though. Whatever he and his mother had been trying to accomplish by getting Bernt appointed as his legitimator was moot, now. *** Uriah¡¯s eyes were focused on the pool of blood seeping out from under the door behind the counter. He¡¯d been staring at it since he came in, but he couldn¡¯t work out what was so important about it. The thought was just out of reach, close enough to touch, but too slippery to grasp. It was just so... red. The light of the crystal lamps on the wall above glinted off it, really bringing out the color. Something was murmuring words into his ear. Words he knew, but that he couldn¡¯t put together into sentences with meaning. What was going on? ¡°The high priest of Noruk tore through them like fire through dry leaves.¡± Uriah said, the words springing to his lips unbidden. He didn¡¯t even know what the question was, but that didn¡¯t mean he had no answer. ¡°The last one was tougher. The banefire didn¡¯t kill it. The priest had no trouble, though. Scary old bastard, but I suppose it makes sense. Why should the hells protect you from the power of a god?¡± The words felt right to say. They were true, even if they didn¡¯t mean anything to him right now. There was a hissing noise in his ear, then more words, rambling. Who was talking to him? Uriah furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the situation. ¡°Bernt has dealings with demons.¡± he whispered, answering unheard questions once more. ¡°He¡¯s a pyromancer. He¡¯s got an imp ¨C ¡± ¡°Hey, what is that?¡± a voice called from outside. There was a shout, then more voices. Uriah¡¯s mouth kept talking, but he couldn¡¯t hear what he said. The people outside were too loud. That meant something, right? ¡°Get the guards!¡± Something hit Uriah in the belly, then again in the back, twice more. It hurt. Why did it hurt like that? The floor was cool on his face. Uriah stared dazedly down at his belly. His robes were getting ruined. The blood was so, so red. 3.30 The Price of Failure When the City Guard came to knock on their door in the morning before sunrise, Bernt feared the worst. Uriah¡¯s bed was still undisturbed, his small pack leaning against it exactly as he¡¯d left it. But Uriah came walking through the door a moment later, looking stiff and pale. His robes were covered in crusted blood. One of the guards behind him was holding his staff for him. ¡°What in the hells happened to you?¡± Nirlig asked, aghast. Uriah didn''t answer immediately, staring into the middle distance before his eyes suddenly focused on Nirlig as if just realizing that he''d spoken. ¡°A... uh... a demon, I think. Unless the Duergar have mind mages that can sneak into the city. I was attacked last night at the enchanter¡¯s shop. The enchanter¡¯s dead.¡± He paused, getting a faraway look in his eye. Then he was back. ¡°It was in my head, somehow. But somebody saw, and it... ran.¡± ¡°We took him to the Temple of Eyeli,¡± the guard explained from the door when Uriah trailed off. ¡°The thing stabbed him pretty good a couple times. Had to wait before they¡¯d see him and then we had to get all the details down and file a report. They summoned a scryer detective from the Mages¡¯ Guild out of bed ¨C it was a whole thing. She found evidence of mind magic that corroborates your friend¡¯s story, so we can release him now. The commander thought we''d better bring him over. He''s... well, you''ve got eyes. He should get some sleep. You shouldn¡¯t leave him alone. Not if something¡¯s after him. Haven¡¯t had a murder in this city in nearly a year, I don¡¯t want to see two right on top of each other, you hear?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll watch him,¡± Torvald volunteered. ¡°I need a bit of a break anyway ¨C a lazy day will do me good. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll take it from here.¡± The guard nodded, handed Bernt the staff and left . The runes were still damaged. They¡¯d have to find someone else to repair it. ¡°Alright.¡± Bernt said, ¡°We¡¯ll bring you back some breakfast, alright? Both of you.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not hungry.¡± Uriah said weakly as he collapsed down onto his bed. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t mind some water, though.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t feel it because of the blood loss, probably. Thirst always feels more urgent.¡± Nirlig scolded him, digging out a canteen of stale water from his pack and handing it to the dehydrated hydromancer. ¡°You still need food.¡± Uriah drank blearily and then nodded. ¡°Fine.¡± Bernt grabbed the damaged staff and moved for the door, Nirlig already waiting in the hall when Uriah spoke again. ¡°It was trying to find you, I think. Because of your damned imp, probably. Shouldn¡¯t have gotten yourself involved with that thing. Godsdamned demons... you need to watch out, you hear?¡± Bernt bit back his retort and took a breath. He wasn¡¯t going to change Uriah¡¯s perspective on Jori ¨C not now, and not soon. He needed to be patient. The guy had been through a few things. Finally, he nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll keep an eye out.¡± *** Bernt stuffed the bundle of dried yarrow and chamomile into the pocket of his robes, feeling a little self-conscious as Nirlig looked on. It had been a few days since he''d last "fed" the infused robes, so he''d stopped to pick up a few things from a little marketplace that they passed. But the goblin didn''t say anything, so Bernt didn''t explain. He would know what it was about, right? This was normal for goblins. Before they could find somewhere to get the staff repaired, they needed to go to the bank. He was supposed to continue to receive his salary, plus a stipend from the crown for the duration of his appointment as a legitimator. They¡¯d only been on the road for a single pay cycle, but Bernt hoped it would be enough. Enchanters were expensive, and who knew how much a legitimator made? ¡°Hey, how are you covering your expenses?¡± Bernt asked Nirlig as they approached the large, opulent building. ¡°You won¡¯t get paid until we¡¯re back in Halfbridge, right? I mean, it could take months.¡± Nirlig laughed. ¡°They don¡¯t pay us as well in the Underkeepers as you, but it¡¯s still pretty good. I made more than twice as much as I did doing manual labor out on the farms before. I¡¯ve got savings. I was even thinking about borrowing a bit from my dad and getting an alchemical enhancement before joining up with the adventurers, but he talked me out of it. Invested gear is a better value, and the Alchemists¡¯ Guild in Halfbridge doesn¡¯t like us, anyway.¡± ¡°Goblins, or Underkeepers?¡± ¡°Goblins and Underkeepers.¡± Bernt grunted in acknowledgement. He certainly hadn¡¯t bought anything from the alchemists before leaving. He¡¯d bought the minor healing potions in his pack at a small markup, courtesy of the City Guard quartermaster. Palina had referred him. Now that he was away, he¡¯d need to track down a local alchemist for a higher quality potion ¨C it always paid to have something fast-acting for emergencies, despite the cost. ¡°Besides, this way I don¡¯t have to worry about food or supplies for a while.¡± Nirlig continued. ¡°Unless we get robbed, anyway.¡± Bernt laughed. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a huge risk, all things considered.¡± Bandits generally knew better than to mess with an obvious group of adventurers. While more dangerous bands with deserters or disgruntled mercenaries formed occasionally, they didn¡¯t tend to last long. Regular bandits were a municipal issue, but legitimately dangerous armed groups drew down the attention of the military. The bank was a large building built in the same over-the-top style as the Mages¡¯ Guild, with marble columns and tall, arched ceilings. Unlike the guild, though, the bank was bustling with activity. Tellers sat behind long counters that ran the length of the room on both sides, protected by a tastefully decorative wrought-iron grate with enchantments so potent they made Bernt¡¯s teeth buzz from the door. It took a moment to find a free bank employee, but things progressed smoothly from there. Bernt was required to produce a writ confirming his identity from Narald¡¯s castellan. Then they demanded a sample of either his blood or mana, which could be used to positively identify him and scry his location in the event of any ¡°issue¡±. Cheating a bank to its face had serious consequences. They left the building just ten minutes later. Bernt kept his hand clutched around the coins in his pocket. He hadn¡¯t thought to bring his bag, which was relatively safe from pickpockets due to the sheer size of its enchanted interior. ¡°Did you know how much you were getting paid?¡± Nirlig asked, appearing shocked. Bernt shook his head dumbly. It had been a lot ¨C nearly twenty gold marks in total. The ¡°stipend and expenses¡± for being a legitimator was, by itself, nearly double what he¡¯d earned as an Underkeeper. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°Let¡¯s just get our other errands done before the streets get too crowded. I don¡¯t want to stay out here too long with this much money in my pocket.¡± ¡°You think someone¡¯s going to steal from a mage?¡± Nirlig asked curiously. ¡°Nobody¡¯s going to rob me with a knife,¡± Bernt allowed, ¡°but pickpockets don¡¯t expect to get caught. Watch my back, alright? Let''s go spend some of this.¡± *** Nirlig unloaded a bag full of the various breakfast foods that they¡¯d collected on their way back and pulled out some kind of deep fried fruit to show Torvald, who was just waking up Uriah for breakfast. ¡°Did you find an enchanter?¡± the hydromancer asked blearily. ¡°Yeah. Got a good price, though I''ll get reimbursed anyway. I think he probably doesn¡¯t know that his biggest competitor just got murdered. That, or he isn¡¯t very good.¡± Bernt shrugged. They couldn¡¯t really afford to be picky right now, anyway. He pulled out a letter and waved it in the air. ¡°We¡¯ve got news from home, too.¡± Unfolding it, Bernt scanned the message. Legitimator Bernard, Please inform the Invigilation representatives in your group that we have determined the approximate location of the Duergar capital. The so-called ¡°Seat of Molten Stone¡±, is about a league beneath the southern tip of the Sunset Range, where the Kallrix, Illuria and Madzhur meet. I expect that information should be of some use, regardless of what they end up deciding. I¡¯ve already informed the crown. As I expect you already know, Archmage Thurdred has returned to Halfbridge. I understand your hesitancy to be open about your ability to communicate with your imp, but would encourage you to place greater trust in the knowledge and experience of your mentors in the future. Please keep me apprised of any relevant information that you may acquire about activities in the hells going forward, especially as it may pertain to Duergar movements on our plane. Regards, Archmage Iriala Bernt cleared his throat and looked up. Right. He¡¯d talked to Jori last night, but he hadn¡¯t shared the news yet. He hadn¡¯t wanted to say anything in front of Olias, and it had slipped his mind this morning with the demonic murder attempts and errands to run. ¡°What is it?¡± Torvald asked. ¡°Ed is back in Halfbridge! I just got confirmation from Archmage Iriala.¡± Uriah sat up. ¡°What? How?¡± ¡°Jori brought him back.¡± Bernt said, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. ¡°Just like she said she would.¡± Uriah let out a breath and lay back down. ¡°Well. I guess that¡¯s something, at least.¡± Leaving out the parts directed at him personally, Bernt summarized the contents of the letter. Torvald perked up when he learned about the location of the Duergar Capital. ¡°Well, if nothing else gets done, at least we won¡¯t be stuck fighting them by ourselves. After Loamfurth, the governments of Kallrix and Madzhur are going to want clarity on this whole issue. They won¡¯t be able to ignore it if they¡¯re right below their feet.¡± The location in question was relatively close to major cities in both Kallrix and Madzhur. It also bordered on the Phoenix Reaches, which was technically under Illurian administration, but likely wouldn¡¯t concern them nearly as much. The place was uninhabited, and their ¡°rule¡± was more a matter of treaty than actual occupation. That said, they did attempt to restrict access to ¡°foreigners¡±, both in the name of safety and to prevent others from accessing the potent elemental materials that could be gathered there. Bernt nodded and got up, heading for the door with the letter in hand. ¡°I need to go find the high priests. They¡¯ll want to know about this and probably send messages ahead to the temples at the Sacral Peaks.¡± *** Drudnik completed the summoning, whispering a name as he pricked his finger and squeezed a drop of blood down onto the circle in front of him. The ease with which the knife cut into his skin worried him. He was careful to pronounce it exactly right to make sure that he summoned the correct imp. He hated lengthy chanting, trying to get the name just right, so it was a point of pride for him to get it right the first time instead. ¡°Maladzhoth, attend me!¡± He couldn¡¯t believe he¡¯d been reduced to summoning imps, like a novice. But his pacted fiend had been out of contact for too long. Its orders had been to report back to him every three days at the latest. It had been nearly five now, and something felt wrong. He was weaker. His skin felt thin, somehow and he¡¯d burned his tongue on his mushroom Chaga this morning. Burned it! His novices couldn¡¯t learn of this failure ¨C they might report it behind his back. Drudnik''s master was not an understanding man. If Tallash had somehow been captured, or worse, if the sunwalkers had managed to extract information from him somehow, he would be killed for his failure. Worse, he might find himself gifted for possession to empower one of King Grundrik¡¯s Elect. No, he needed to solve this by himself, and he needed to do it quickly. Soon, he would run out of time. His peers, Arith and Kurill, would be resummoning their own demons, a shade and a hag. They had already confirmed with lesser demons that both had been destroyed in the fight. Soon, they would be reborn and summoned again. He needed to know what happened before then, and be ready to defend his actions before their master. The bundle of herbs smoldering in a brazier next to him went out. ¡°Agh!¡± a high scratchy, high pitched voice yelped. ¡°What?! What do you want?¡± ¡°Imp,¡± Drudnik said impatiently. ¡°I have been unable to contact your superior, Tallash. Is he still pursuing the sunwalkers?¡± His cadre of warlocks had sent out their pacted demons alongside a small army of their lesser thralls to destroy a convoy of sunwalkers. Kurill¡¯s shade had discovered that they were a diplomatic delegation meant to gather more of their kind to stand against Grundrik¡¯s armies, and to seek the support of their unnatural gods. It should have been a simple job, despite the presence of multiple of their priests. The creature spat and the circle flared, its protections catching the noxious projectile with a hiss. Had the creature somehow just spat a wad of hellfire? The Duergar warlock narrowed his eyes at it, trying to decide how to react. ¡°Tallash is dead,¡± the accursed creature purred. ¡°I don¡¯t have to talk to you. Send me back!¡± ¡°I will not. How long ago was Tallash killed? When will we be able to resummon him? Report!¡± The imp glared angrily. ¡°Tallash is dead. He is not coming back. My obligation to him is erased and I owe you nothing. I don¡¯t have a pact with you, and I¡¯m not making one, either!¡± ¡°He can¡¯t be dead ¨C he is a demon!¡± Drudnik clenched his jaw in frustration. ¡°I will keep you here until you answer my questions.¡± Demons could be destroyed on their home plane, certainly ¨C but a third tier demon with masters as powerful as Tallash had? Not a chance. Who would dare? But¡­ he could feel his pacted resilience, his resistance to fire diminish by the hour. He was in denial. The imp scoffed and rolled his eyes. ¡°You can¡¯t hold me. We don¡¯t have a pact. Last chance!¡± ¡°No!¡± The creature disappeared in a burst of hellfire that turned the small room into an oven. The hot air reeked of sulfur and Drudnik coughed, cursing all the while. He needed to summon another imp. He had to salvage all this, somehow. What were their names? He hadn¡¯t memorized them all. If he couldn¡¯t get one to cooperate with him, he was finished. Behind him, the door opened. ¡°Drudnik,¡± his master said, his voice smooth. ¡°I have received some disturbing news regarding your task here. Zijeregh tells me you have acted recklessly, and potentially cost him one of his own.¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°You have incurred a debt.¡± 3.31 Reinforcements Bernt sat in the inn¡¯s common room, tapping his foot nervously. With the addition of Torvald''s great uncle, they were fifteen people in all, though Torvald himself wasn''t here. The paladin ¨C Bernt''s legal charge ¨C was currently being questioned by the City Guard because of his latest divine mission. Without Bernt. He''d bolted out of bed in the middle of the night, shouting, and run clear across the city to the lake. By the time Bernt caught up with him, two guards were watching the paladin drag an unconscious dwarf out of the water. Both his feet had been encased in magically shaped stone and he''d been dumped into the lake to drown. While they didn''t think Torvald had anything to do with it as a paladin of Ruzinia, the guards thought he could help them figure out who was responsible. He was humoring them, for now, though Bernt couldn''t guess why. Fortunately, they didn''t actually have the right to detain a representative of the Invigilation in good standing. They would be leaving soon, heading on to Gobford. In preparation, high priest Hannis had summoned everyone down here to "discuss their next steps." Surprisingly, it wasn¡¯t him who started talking, but his legitimator, Captain Emata. ¡°With the people that we lost to the demons, and the injured who are on their way to Teres, we only have six adventurers left to act as guards,¡± Emata began, looking over those who remained. ¡°While the Duergars¡¯ demons couldn¡¯t seriously threaten our group in a direct fight, we can¡¯t afford to walk into repeated ambushes, either. The demons will always return so long as we don¡¯t kill their warlocks.¡± ¡°Yeah, well, there¡¯s not a lot we can do about that." Kanan, one of the remaining adventurers grumbled. "Not unless they climb out of the Depths for us and throw themselves on our swords. We¡¯ll never make it to the Peaks at that rate.¡± Emata nodded in agreement. ¡°That is correct. What we need is scouts when we¡¯re on the move during the day, and stronger defenses to protect ourselves from ambushes at night ¨C just like we use in the military. To this end, archdruid Leirin, high priest Hannis and I have approached the Adventurers¡¯ Guild to hire additional guards with the relevant expertise.¡± High Priest Angjou cleared her throat, frowning. ¡°How many? And who is going to pay them? Don¡¯t you think you should have asked us before making a decision like that? As long as we keep moving quickly enough, they shouldn¡¯t be able to strike us. They have to keep up, and they have to wend their way through caves and tunnels while we can travel in a nearly straight line.¡± ¡°That¡¯s all true, but also naive." Emata replied, her voice gaining an edge. "What are you going to do if and when they find a solution to this problem? Are you going to fight them next time?¡± Emata scoffed and continued, ¡°Assuming that everything will be fine is going to get us killed. The Temple of Noruk has generously offered to shoulder the burden if the others should fail to embrace the seriousness of our situation.¡± She gave a little nod toward Hannis, who inclined his head toward her. Bernt furrowed his brow, bewildered by the exchange. Since when were they getting along so well? It was a relief, to be honest. Hannis was clearly an asshole, but at least he seemed serious about not getting them all killed. ¡°Yes, great. The Temple of Eyeli will also provide funding as needed.¡± Surin said, rolling her eyes impatiently. ¡°Let¡¯s get on with this. Who did you get?¡± Torvald didn¡¯t say anything, but then, nobody expected him to. He had no authority to distribute funds from the Temple of Ruzinia. For that matter, Bernt doubted that they actually had any. Emata cleared her throat, looking a little hesitant for the first time. ¡°We were recommended a small party of locals ¨C two rangers, a druid and a shaman ¨C who I agree would serve our purposes best. Their respective specializations should provide us with early warning of any demonic activity, while also slowing and weakening any attacks on us.¡± Nirlig sat up, a slow smile splitting his face, but it was Olias who spoke first. ¡°A¡­ shaman? Like, a troll witch doctor or something? Do they let those into the Adventurers¡¯ Guild nowadays?¡± ¡°Ah, no. They¡¯re goblins from Xul¡¯Dirin up the river for the most part, but the druid is a human.¡± ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡± Angjou asked delicately, pointedly not glancing over at Nirlig. ¡°I mean, we¡¯re a religious delegation. Is it appropriate to employ shamanistic¡­ peoples in our defense? Besides, we already have a very powerful druid with us. Does it make sense to recruit another?¡± ¡°Yes to both.¡± Emata said emphatically. ¡°Adventurers are best recruited in parties ¨C they¡¯ll be used to operating as a team, which is more than I can say for our current complement of guards.¡± Some of the other adventurers shifted in their seats, and Emata hastened to add, ¡°Through no fault of their own, I¡¯m sure. We accepted pairs and individual adventurers in Halfbridge because we didn¡¯t attract experienced parties after all the fighting we¡¯ve had." ¡°Druids aren''t a monolith.¡± Leirin threw in. ¡°Different circles in different regions have their own traditions and seed catalogues. There''s no reason to assume that another druid would be redundant.¡± Emata nodded at him with a small smile, acknowledging his support. "They¡¯re well ranked and will be able to improve our overall security significantly, especially with archdruid Leirin and wizard Bernard¡¯s assistance.¡± ¡°Goblins can also see in the dark.¡± Nirlig chimed in. ¡°So, you know¡­ that¡¯s something to consider before you let anybody change your mind.¡± The tactician grinned. ¡°Thank you, Nirlig, I was aware.¡± *** ¡°Are you finally going to tell me why you¡¯re so excited?¡± Bernt asked Nirlig. They were waiting with the rest of the expedition just outside Lochholme¡¯s western gate, trying not to block traffic across the massive bridge that crossed the Sul River here. Most of the expedition was parked on a small open area next to the gate, but Bernt and a few others loitered at the foot of the bridge to keep an eye out for the new adventurer party. They were supposed to join them here, but they were late. Uriah stood nearby, critically examining the re-carved runes on his borrowed staff. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Oh alright. I didn¡¯t want to say anything until I was sure.¡± Nirlig was standing up on the bridge¡¯s balustrade, trying to get a look over the crowds of people shuffling in and out of the gate. ¡°There aren¡¯t a lot of goblin adventurers out there, and only a very small number of those are shamans. Only one, actually, that I know of. She¡¯s a legend ¨C Xul¡¯evareg. Her name¡¯s more like a title, I have no idea what her actual name is. It means ¡°wrath of Xul¡±. She used to be a war leader against the Adventurers¡¯ Guild, back when Xul¡¯Dirin was still a dungeon.¡± Bernt shook his head in confusion. ¡°How is she an adventurer, then?¡± Belatedly, he added. ¡°And wouldn¡¯t she be way too old?¡± Nirlig laughed. ¡°Try telling her that. She threatened to found a competing guild during the negotiations for the Kallrixian Accords ¨C the ambassador would have let her do it, too. There are never enough adventurers around to fight off all the nasty things that are harassing and preying on people. It was a big deal, even if most of us still don¡¯t want to have anything to do with Adventurers¡¯ Guild.¡± Bernt spotted a tall young woman coming out of the gate, looking around for something. She stuck out of the local crowd for several reasons beyond her height, the most obvious of which were the tattoos on her face, her beat-up old quarterstaff and her armor ¨C boiled leather over a gambeson. The tattoos marked her as a pagan from the Beseri wildlands and, if Bernt didn¡¯t miss his guess, she was their new druid. Her eyes locked Nirlig, then Bernt, then the rest of the group. A moment later, she pressed through the crowd toward them, pushing out of the flow of traffic alongside three goblins. All three were also women, and they looked as though they might have been three generations of the same family tree. The eldest and obviously the leader of the group was a white-haired shaman, recognizable mainly by the fact that she didn¡¯t carry an obvious weapon. Her weathered skin was heavily wrinkled, but her back was straight and she carried herself with energy that belied her obvious age. She had a bandolier covered with small pouches and carried what looked like a ritual knife made of stone tucked into her belt. The other two carried short bows, one in early middle age and the other probably a bit younger than Bernt. The old shaman stepped forward, ¡°Escort to Norhold, right? Which one of you is Emata?¡± The Captain, who¡¯d hadn¡¯t noticed them approach, interrupted her conversation with Hannis to come and greet the newcomers. ¡°Right here, welcome! Xul¡¯evareg, right? Come on over, I¡¯ll introduce you to the priests. They''re the ones with the purse strings.¡± The two moved off toward the carriage, leaving the other three behind with Bernt, Nirlig and Uriah. ¡°Well, it¡¯s good to see we¡¯re not the first goblins in the group,¡± the older of the two goblins said, nodding to Nirlig. ¡°I hope that means we don¡¯t have to spend the first few days walking on eggshells around all these humans. You broke them in for us, right? And such a handsome young man, too.¡± She winked at him and elbowed the girl next to her. ¡°Right, Ina?¡± The younger goblin cringed a little and blushed, obviously embarrassed. Bernt looked back, expecting Nirlig to make some kind of quip to defuse the awkward tension, but he was staring wide-eyed at the young ranger in turn. Oh boy. ¡°Ehm. Is it true you have an archdruid?¡± the only human member of their party asked after a moment, looking over the group, tapping the butt of her staff on the ground in a nervous gesture. She had a light accent that Bernt couldn¡¯t place. ¡°Eva said she saw one at the guild. I¡¯d love to meet him.¡± *** As the column got underway, the two goblin rangers left the main group to scout ahead, leaving their human companion to walk with Bernt¡¯s group. Around that time, the old goblin shamaness returned and began questioning Nirlig about what had been going on in Halfbridge over the last few months. While news of the Duergar attack had spread, stories of Halfbridge¡¯s new Undercity were still mostly rumor and Xul¡¯evareg was clearly eager to separate fact from fiction. The druid¡¯s name was Estrid. She had exchanged a few words with Leirin, but the archdruid had elected to ride in the carriage with the priests and Olias, who had invited himself. She didn¡¯t appear to be interested in getting to know the rest of the expedition and walked in silence for the most part, only briefly introducing herself to Torvald and Uriah. She didn¡¯t speak to Elyn, which was strange, but the half-elf didn¡¯t take offense. ¡°So¡­ where are you from?¡± Bernt asked after a while. He wasn''t about to walk all the way to Gobford in silence. ¡°I¡¯ve seen a couple of people with tattoos back home, but those aren¡¯t the same markings they have up near Halfbridge.¡± Estrid looked over at him a little suspiciously, as if trying to decide whether to answer. ¡°I grew up in the east, across the Uvner River at the foot of the mountains,¡± she finally said. ¡°Wow, really? I didn¡¯t even know people lived there.¡± Bernt replied encouragingly. ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡± ¡°There¡¯s good hunting, but it¡¯s dangerous with all the trolls and the elves.¡± She glanced nervously back toward Elyn. ¡°The troll raids got to be too much, when I was a girl. The elves to the south don¡¯t hunt you, but they kill you if you step into their territory. So, there was nowhere to go except over the river.¡± Ah, that made sense. Full-blooded elves were notoriously xenophobic. They weren¡¯t totally isolationist ¨C in fact, they loved to travel, showing up in towns and cities all over the continent and were generally courteous guests. No, they just didn¡¯t allow any foreign visitors into their own territories. ¡°Did you go looking for the other¡­ tribes in the wildlands?¡± he asked. It seemed rude to call her a pagan to her face, even if it was technically accurate. She nodded. ¡°That¡¯s how we ended up in Xul¡¯Dirin. We heard there were people who spoke our language up in the forests there, or close enough to understand. But they weren¡¯t very happy to see us.¡± She gestured to the tattoo on her cheekbones. ¡°Turns out our tribes had some kind of blood feud forever ago, before your people came and took the land between us. We didn¡¯t remember anymore, but they did. The goblins took us in instead.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s how you ended up in an adventuring party with three of them? ¡°Sort of. I joined for Ina. We grew up together. She¡¯s a prodigy with the bow, and Ksuwa¡¯s been teaching her to track and scout for nearly ten years. Needs somebody to watch her back, though, and a healer. Xul¡¯evareg jumped at the chance to take me on. Goblin casters don¡¯t go adventuring, normally. They¡¯re too important to the community.¡± Bernt cocked his head at her, trying to decide if she was pulling his leg. ¡°Druids can heal people?¡± Leirin couldn¡¯t do that¡­ If he could, the archdruid would have helped with the wounded after they were attacked, right? Besides, he¡¯d never even heard of it. Druids did strange magic with plants, not people. Estrid shrugged modestly, allowing herself a small smile. ¡°You figure out all kinds of things if you have to.¡± Bernt watched her for another second and then nodded slowly. Mages dabbled in medicine, too. Why shouldn¡¯t a druid have figured something out? ¡°True enough. I worked out a way to fix a spiritual injury to my mana network recently. It had some pretty unexpected side effects, though.¡± Estrid perked up, suddenly interested. ¡°Spiritual damage? Are you serious? What happened? How does it work?¡± Bernt was only too happy to explain. 3.32 Escalation Jori pulled the bone stopper from the small demon skin vessel and focused on its contents, slowly drawing the soul from it. Her control had improved, but it was still hard to move souls or soul fragments without drawing them into herself. There wasn¡¯t much left of this one ¨C a headless arm and torso that Xoryath had found drifting aimlessly over the endless, dead plains to the north, walking on legs that weren¡¯t there anymore. Scavengers had snatched pieces off of this one, but it would keep wandering until it was fully consumed. By the time they reached the third hell, there wasn¡¯t much humanity left to souls, but they still ran from obivous danger when attacked. Lesser demons rarely managed to snatch an entire soul by themselves. Instead, they would draw in a fragment, leaving the rest to flee. When they finally ceased to exist on this plane and manifested in the fourth, they would no longer have a humanoid shape. At least, that''s what Josie had told her. Jori talked extensively about this topic with the warlock, but the knowledge of exactly what happened to the souls they consumed still surprised her. According to her, the first and second hells stripped souls of their will and their mortal knowledge and experience. So, how did they summon the will to run when they reached her plane? Josie had called it the cycle of souls ¨C cleaning all the mortal bits off of something immutable and endless to be thrown back into the world as a new person. Eventually, after the ninth. Jori liked that theory. It made her part of a natural process. It also made her feel slightly better about the fact that this had obviously been a child ¨C a gnome, like Trip. ¡°Come here!¡± Jori ordered Faedris as Xoryath looked on. The spawnling chittered nervously and approached, looking back and forth between the more powerful imps. It eyed the soul, but didn¡¯t make any move to seize it. Snatching a prize like that in front of a more powerful demon was a good way to get killed, normally. But they were going to do things a little differently. It had taken a lot of convincing to get the others to start giving up soul fragments for the benefit of their lessers, but Jori thought she was starting to get through to them. The first transformation cost little in terms of souls, and they would be much more powerful as a group if everyone could at least create hellfire. Jori held the soul in place with her will, and took a step back, gesturing for Xoryath to do the same. Faedris'' eyes flitted back and forth between them and the soul. ¡°You can have it.¡± Jori said, realizing that he was waiting for her permission. He shuffled a little closer and finally tried to draw it in. A few fragments tore free, like loose threads from a piece of cloth. It was a messy process. Spawnlings had very weak control over souls. Jori could remember what it had been like for her. But this wouldn¡¯t take too long. Even this incomplete soul was far more substantial than the tiny residual fragments she¡¯d been able to pull from corpses on the mortal plane. The little imp drew in larger and larger fragments over the course of a few minutes, getting the hang of the process. By the time he slowed down, there was nothing but a shapeless blob left, smaller than Jori¡¯s head. It shivered oddly, though she was still holding it in place. Jori had never witnessed this next part from the outside. Faedris squirmed uncomfortably, eyes bulging. He scratched at his joints and hissed. Then he fell to the ground, writhing. Light glowed from a point at his shoulder, brightly at first, then softening suddenly as it washed down his arm. Another brightened at his elbow, then one under his chin, then more and more all over his body. As this was happening, the little imp grew. He was getting bigger, sure, but he was changing in more subtle ways, too. Small horns pushed up from his head and his wings changed color, gaining new black patterning along the tips as they grew. His teeth and claws grew longer, and his proportions changed subtly, making him look older. When he finally stopped moving and opened his eyes, they were a deeper red and they flickered oddly like fire, just like her own. He jumped up and hissed, beating his wings against the air. Then he looked down at his hand, puzzled. Jori could guess what was going to happen next and took a step back. Sure enough, the newly evolved imp shook out his wrist, trying to relieve the odd sense of pressure he¡¯d be feeling there now. Hellfire formed in his palm as he did, spraying all over the place in little droplets. Xoryath yelped when it hit him and cuffed the other imp over the back of the head. ¡°Stop it!¡± she snarled and Faedris cowered submissively. They were equals now, technically, but it would take time for him to get used to his new self. ¡°This¡­ is annoying,¡± he grumbled, sneaking a glance down at his wrist. The words were mangled, but it seemed that he¡¯d managed to pick up some Beseri from her and Ed. Now that he had the capacity for mortal speech, she¡¯d be able to teach him properly. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it. The first transformation is always the worst.¡± Jori reassured him. ¡°It was for me, anyway. Don¡¯t worry about it!¡± ¡°There. I contributed to the pack.¡± Xoryath said impatiently, ignoring the other imp. ¡°You promised rewards. Are you finally going to tell me the secrets of the mortals that you think will keep us alive and free?¡± Jori grinned at her cousin and held up a hand in demonstration. Concentrating, she called up hellfire, tweaking her channels as she did in a complex pattern that she¡¯d only worked out hours before. Hellfire flickered around her claws for a moment before coating her entire hand in flames. Casually, Jori picked up a small rock and let it melt in her palm. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Xoryath wouldn¡¯t be able to use this spell yet ¨C hellfire could still burn her. But it just looked so great! The other imp stared, wide eyed. Apparently she agreed. ¡°How are you doing that? Does it hurt?¡± ¡°Of course not! It''s sorcery! I think it¡¯s something that the Great Ones all do. They figure it out, eventually ¨C they just never bother to tell us. That¡¯s what¡¯s wrong with us, and with this whole place! We don¡¯t share anything ¨C not souls, not knowledge, and not power. That¡¯s what I want to change. I¡¯m going to tell you about magic, and together, we are going to become the greatest pack of demon sorcerers ever!¡± *** The expedition stopped relatively early, choosing a defensible position on top of a hill and packing everyone close together in a tight circle, with the wagons and the carriage near the outside providing an additional barrier between them and the nearby trees. Nirlig and Ina, who''d been making eyes at each other all day, volunteered to take the horses out to pasture and hobble them there. It wasn¡¯t ideal to leave them outside and undefended all night, but they wouldn¡¯t tolerate being stuck between the cooking fire and Bernt''s wall of flames for hours on end. While the others set up camp, Bernt and Estrid got to work on the camp¡¯s defenses. She cast seeds around them in a ring, leaving just a narrow gap to allow them to get in and out. Under her ministrations, the seeds rapidly grew into a thicket of stringy green plants several paces thick. It was enlightening to watch her work. Druids worked magic, in the sense that Bernt could sense that she was manipulating mana. He knew that druids were born with the same innate talent as mages, but he''d never actually sensed one work before. It was strange ¨C she wasn¡¯t shaping spellforms or casting spells. Instead, the ambient mana was being ¡°fed¡± into the wall of plants in front of her somehow. Bernt knew there was more to it than that, but it was all he could sense directly. The plants didn''t look especially dangerous ¨C but Bernt realized they didn''t need to be. Every stalk was covered in miniscule barbs that would catch on skin and clothing, so anyone who tried to push through would be hopelessly entangled. Hellfire would burn through it easily, of course, but it wouldn¡¯t be subtle. And after that, they would still have to contend with Bernt¡¯s circle of flames. It would take time to break through, and would rob them of any element of surprise. ¡°Are you sure this isn¡¯t going to destroy my clingweeds?¡± Estrid asked a little nervously as Bernt¡¯s spell raised silver fire all around the camp, the flames licking at the edges of her odd plants. ¡°You¡¯ve tried this with the archdruid before, right?¡± In a stroke of inspiration, Bernt had decided to cast his ring of banefire just inside the druidic thicket, mostly hiding it from view. The dim flame was faintly visible in the fading light, but maybe the demons wouldn¡¯t see it in time. Whatever the case, their combined efforts should go a long way to slowing down any attacks and keeping their sentries safe. ¡°Leirin didn¡¯t do anything like this, so not exactly.¡± Bernt confessed. ¡°The archmage likes to cover the ground in tiny weeds that have thousands of thorny seeds. No matter how they fall, a thorn is always pointing up. He¡¯s probably out there doing it right now. I¡¯m not sure how well it works on demons, since they haven''t attacked us since he started doing it, but don¡¯t go out there without your boots on. Regin made that mistake trying to find somewhere to relieve himself ¨C he had to ride in the cart for a day. Anyway, I¡¯ve tested it on plants before. It¡¯ll be fine.¡± The druid nodded, and looked around, probably trying to spot Leirin outside. ¡°I¡¯ll need to compare seed libraries with him. Something like that could be really useful. Someone like him might have all kinds of exotic plants, maybe even Seheshi swampmaws! I¡¯ve always wanted one, but they¡¯re incredibly hard to come by. Hard to propagate, you see.¡± ¡°It¡¯s worth a try, probably.¡± Bernt said noncommittally. The archdruid had been polite, but relatively standoffish so far. If druids worked like mages, he doubted she¡¯d be able to get anything out of him for free. He also wasn¡¯t so sure that Leirin really carried such a broad assortment of seeds. All in all, the man had been a bit of a disappointment in terms of his defensive work, at least for someone who¡¯d been trusted to fight a dragon alongside archmage Janus. He hadn¡¯t really done much when the demons came for them. Then again, Bernt supposed he might just not be well-suited to these kinds of fights. Or maybe he excelled at supporting other adventurers or fighting singular, very powerful enemies. Hopefully, they wouldn¡¯t have to find out. The two returned to the others to find that they¡¯d set up a large but low ring-shaped cookfire, where several adventurers were busily making dinner. Kanan and Nirlig fried strips of salted pork in two large iron pans while Torvald, Regin and Elyn toasted rock-hard travel biscuits over the coals alongside everyone else who wasn¡¯t currently busy elsewhere. Ina and Ksuwa were already asleep under one of the wagons ¨C they would have to stand watch during the darkest part of the night. A few steps away, Xul¡¯evareg was performing some kind of ritual, chanting something under her breath as she rocked back and forth and wafted the smoke from a smoldering bundle of herbs around. Bernt could feel mana moving around her in odd ways. Then, the stone knife came out and she nicked herself on the back of a scarred hand, producing a small amount of blood that seemed to evaporate away in a matter of seconds. That done, she tossed what was left of the herbs into the fire. ¡°Alright, time for some dinner!¡± She looked over the activity by the fire with some skepticism. ¡°Having meat¡¯s nice, I suppose, but no greens?¡± ¡°Ah, right!¡± Estrid said, digging in the pouch that hung around her shoulder. A moment later, she pulled out a small envelope and shook a few seeds out onto her palm. ¡°Hey, you can conjure water, right? I could make us a salad, but crops are always thirsty. Will you help me out?¡± Bernt shook his head. ¡°Ah, I can... but we should just ask Uriah. That¡¯s more his kind of thing. I¡¯ll go find him.¡± He should probably ask the hydromancer for a bit of help on his own water spells. Bernt could conjure water if he absolutely had to ¨C he did it routinely at home ¨C but it took him a long time and he never got the alignments quite right in the spellform. Shaping a conjuration spell to evenly irrigate a patch of dirt was well beyond his abilities. At least this leg of the trip was shaping up to be a bit less chaotic than the previous one. He wasn¡¯t too exhausted ¨C maybe he¡¯d find some time to practice after dinner. When he returned, Uriah in tow, Estrid wasn¡¯t there. She was following Xul¡¯evareg, who was pacing along the inside of their defensive circle with a serious expression. No one else seemed to have noticed, so the two mages hurried over. ¡°What is it?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°Hmm, something nasty," the old goblin grumbled. "Local wildlife maybe, for some of it. But demons, too. Xul says their stink is in the water, here. Need to watch out, tonight.¡± 3.33 Eyes in the Dark As the news spread that the demons were out there, the mood in the camp grew tense. Captain Emata assigned guard duties to every combat-capable person available, which was everyone except Angjou, Surin, Olias and Regin. No one questioned how exactly she''d ended up in charge. A week earlier, the assertive young officer had shouted down a high priest of Noruk and somehow gained what passed for respect from the man. No one wanted to try her. Bernt supposed it was just as well to finally have someone who knew what they were doing organizing things. Nirlig ended up on first watch alongside Torvald, Kanan and another adventurer named Tarik. The others took positions just inside Bernt¡¯s ring of banefire, but Nirlig climbed up onto the wagon to get a better vantage over the entire area. Having a goblin up there would, by itself, be worth more in terms of early warning than everyone else combined. Though, now that he considered it... ¡°I can take a shift up there, too.¡± Bernt said, pointing at the wagon as Emata tried to assign him to the third watch. ¡°I can see in the dark.¡± He¡¯d only used his infused belt for the strength that it could give him, and only sparingly at that. That was good, since Grixit had warned him that overusing it might have side effects ¨C but it had another use. Unlike his other equipment, the belt hadn¡¯t been blessed by a natural spirit ¨C instead, it contained the soul of the mountain lion who the skin had originally belonged to. Using it allowed it access to his senses, while granting Bernt some of its strength. According to Josie, it was a more primitive version of the kind of equipment the Berserker''s Guild used. Emata gave him an appraising look but then nodded tiredly, not bothering to ask. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s good. You¡¯ll still be third watch, but up on the wagon. We¡¯ll let the old goblin shaman sleep. With you and the rangers, we¡¯ll have someone who can attack at range on the wagon most of the night.¡± *** By the time Ksuwa, the older of the two goblin rangers, came to get him for his watch, Bernt was already sitting up. It was a clear night, and freezing cold. He¡¯d woken up shivering, and was already warming himself on a torch spell. ¡°There was a bit of movement over toward the trees,¡± the goblin reported. ¡°But nothing interesting so far. The horses are getting kind of far away, but they¡¯re out in the open. Keep an eye out.¡± The pyromancer nodded. Seeing that the goblin was warming her hands on the torch spell, he left it burning, activated his belt and climbed up into the wagon. He shot over the side and crashed awkwardly onto his side on the hard wood, having underestimated his strength as he pulled himself up. He groaned quietly and righted himself. Right. The belt did more than one thing. Still, he couldn''t help but marvel at the improvement to his vision as he took in his surroundings. It wasn¡¯t as though night had turned to day ¨C the colors were mostly washed out ¨C but he could see far and incredibly clearly. As Ksuwa had said, there was nothing happening. A few of the other guards were changing watch, and he could see Hannis taking position at the narrow gap that served as the only entrance to their defenses. It was even colder up here than it had been below, with the wind cutting right through his clothes. Bernt shivered and stuck his hands into his sleeves, considering. His torch spell wouldn''t do much here ¨C the heat would just blow away. It was also bright. A big enough fire would probably get the job done, wind or not, but it was going to paint him as a target for a league in every direction. Why wasn''t there a spell to just warm his clothes directly? Bernt scowled. He knew why, of course. The problem with pyromancy was that you couldn''t just make something warm ¨C fire was hot. Stupid, freezing wind. Bernt turned, trying to keep his back to the breeze, before remembering that he couldn''t just look downwind all night. Oh. Oh! Struck by a sudden realization, Bernt withdrew his left hand from his sleeve and began sketching runes in broad, circular motions, trying to recall exactly how the spell went. He needed to modify the shape, but that was something he¡¯d had extensive practice with in the past few months. The Mages¡¯ Academy taught five standard shield spells and Bernt had shown real talent with two of them ¨C he¡¯d just never really taken to the second. He had been more dazzled by the prospect of shooting fire from his hands, which, to be fair, he still enjoyed. Now, though, it was time he revisited his aeromancy. The spell took a little long to put together ¨C he had to find and remove the influence of his burning rain investiture on the spellform ¨C but it felt comfortable in a way that even the stone shaping spell he¡¯d spent the last two months practicing still didn¡¯t. The wind barrier spun into existence over and around him in an invisible dome that extended from just over his head around the wagon and nearly down to the ground. The freezing wind cut off to almost nothing, leaving just the barest draft pulling air out from below the bed of the wagon. It wasn¡¯t a personal heating spell, but it was enough. He¡¯d have to focus to maintain it and feed it mana, but since he was just sitting here, he might as well practice. Bernt kept it up for nearly an hour, recasting the shield in a few different variations in hopes of improving its efficiency as he watched the horizon. There wasn¡¯t much to see but empty fields and their hobbled horses on one side and trees on the other, just across the road. The demons Xul¡¯evareg had mentioned would be hiding in there, he was sure ¨C there was nowhere else they could be. But it was completely quiet. What if they were just sitting there, staring right back at him from the woods? What could they be doing? As he sat there, staring, he caught a glint of something in the bushes. Were those eyes? He stood up and peered into the trees, trying to catch another glimpse. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! A branch cracked, followed by a loud rustling sound. Where was it coming from? One of the guards called out something ¨C they¡¯d heard it, too. Something moved over to the right, but by the time Bernt found the spot, there was nothing left to see. Bernt let the wind barrier dissipate and prepared a banefire spell. Where were they? Quiet returned. No attack came. Bernt sat back down, his back aching with tension. It would almost be easier if they just attacked. Another minute later, the cold got to him and he recast his wind barrier. Twenty seemingly eternal minutes later, color began to bleed onto the horizon and the camp began to stir. Someone lit the cookfire and Bernt breathed a sigh, releasing some of the nervous tension that had begun to creep up into his neck. They¡¯d be getting underway soon. Stiffly, he climbed down from the wagon and deactivated his belt. Grixit had been right to warn him about it ¨C he really did have a sudden craving for meat. Ignoring his grumbling stomach, Bernt dispelled the wall of banefire. Small groups of two or three stepped outside the defenses to relieve themselves. They¡¯d dug a shallow latrine inside the night before, but it turned out not everyone had been willing to use it. Breakfast was a hurried affair. They needed to get moving, and nobody wanted to stay here. While Bernt and Uriah worked on tea, the goblin rangers went to gather the horses. Olias, Leirin and Angjou, who were getting along surprisingly well, shared a small bottle of brandy under Hannis¡¯ disapproving glare. Estrid began to take down part of her clingweed defenses ¨C they needed a much bigger gap to get the wagons out. In the space of about a minute, the odd plants grew taller and the stems became woody before dying and drying out. When it was done, the druid stepped forward and dug around in the mess, breaking off several small seed pods near the stems and putting them in her pouch. Bernt tried to think of a way to safely burn a swathe through, but it turned out to be unnecessary. The druid simply walked through, crushing the now fragile material without effort and kicking to make the path wider. Grinning, Bernt joined in. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that you didn¡¯t need magic for everything. ¡°Hey, is Kanan back here?¡± someone called. It was Tarik, the adventurer who¡¯d had his insides rearranged by a demon in the first attack. He was looking around urgently, craning his neck. ¡°Nobody came through here,¡± Bernt answered. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Went out to take a piss. Captain said groups of two and stay in sight, so I went with him. But he says he can¡¯t piss with somebody watching, see? Told me to wait on the road for a minute¡­¡± ¡°Shit,¡± Bernt cursed. He looked around. Several adventurers, as well as Captain Emata were already running over to see who had called out. Bernt managed to find Torvald, Elyn and Uriah by the time Tarik had repeated his story to the Captain. Nirlig had found his own way to the group, and they pushed out toward the trees in force. ¡°Kanan?¡± Someone called pointlessly ¨C probably Tarik. ¡°Where did you last see him?¡± Emata asked. The burly man pointed and they moved in the indicated direction, pushing into the bushes. At a signal from the captain they spread out, keeping their eyes peeled for signs of an ambush. Bernt drew his wand in his left hand and activated his thornskin amulet. He didn¡¯t want to wear the thing out, but they were practically blind down here in the undergrowth. A protective amulet wasn¡¯t going to matter in a week if he got his throat torn out in the next five minutes. Someone gave a shout to Bernt¡¯s left. Recognizing Nirlig''s voice, he oriented toward the sound and pushed through the dense foliage. They converged on the goblin to find him standing over Kanan, who was lying facedown on the ground, his pants down around his ankles. He was dead. Tarik shouted and cursed at the sight, only stopping when Emata put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. She nudged the body with a foot and then turned it over. He looked uninjured, as if he¡¯d just stopped breathing. ¡°Well, shit.¡± *** Zijeregh walked down the road, enjoying the odd feeling of gravel crunching under her boots. She had never had a mortal body before. It was strange. She could feel the mortal¡¯s consciousness just under the surface, struggling. She¡¯d been concerned, at first, that the foolish warlock would somehow manage to interfere with her control or her abilities, but her fears had proven to be unfounded. While he was an annoyance, Drudnik was entirely impotent. She¡¯d felt his revulsion at the pleasure she took in the stupid human¡¯s death, and his terror when she drew in her victim¡¯s soul and consumed his will. He¡¯d realized only then that something had gone terribly, irrevocably wrong. Her true body was much better than this diminutive shell, but the incompetence of her now-dead servant, Tallash, had given her little choice. A mortal body in itself didn''t really offer any advantages, except perhaps to incorporeal demons such as shades. No, the true value of upgrading to a possession pact lay in the fine print. Duergar, like many foolish mortals, preferred to reuse existing pacts without proper review ¨C especially those of more senior warlocks whom they respected. In this case, that warlock was King Grundrik, arguably the greatest summoner in the Duergar Empire. Unfortunately for him, greatness did not always go hand-in-hand with prudence. Most basic Duergar pacts required pacted demons always to obey and serve in the best interest of their summoner. Disdaining such diminutive language, however, King Grundrik had bound Nuros to serve not his summoner, but ¡°his master and true king.¡± Nuros only had one master, one king, and his name was Varamemnon. To any demon, it was a glaring loophole ¨C one that the demons in Nuros¡¯ hierarchy were careful not to exploit too brazenly, when given the opportunity. Zijeregh, too, would be circumspect. The Duergar wanted her to destroy this group of mortals, and she would. But she couldn¡¯t simply send her two remaining servants and their pathetic thralls to deal with them. She already looked weak with Tallash¡¯s failure, not to mention his inexplicable destruction. If her thralls were defeated again, it would reflect even more poorly on her. The connection between the imp ¨C the one Nuros wanted ¨C and Tallash¡¯s thralls had been a happy coincidence. After a century of service, the eye of her master was finally upon her. But his attention was a risk, as well. Tallash had failed her, which meant that she had failed Nuros. If the fiend were not already dead, she would have destroyed the idiot herself. Now, she was in a dangerous position. She needed to set an example ¨C to make a statement, both to her master and to her rivals. If she failed, she would be destroyed. 3.34 Gobford ¡°You need to go in there and talk to them,¡± Olias told Torvald, huffing as he marched next to his grandnephew and pointed ahead to the carriage. It was obvious to Bernt that the old man didn¡¯t get much exercise. ¡°You have to trust me on this. It¡¯s important.¡± ¡°And say what?¡± Torvald protested. ¡°I don¡¯t want to get involved. I¡¯m going to the Sacral Peaks because the goddess told me to, and when I get there, I''m going to vote however she tells me.¡± Bernt frowned at the paladin. ¡°You can¡¯t ¨C that¡¯s not how it works. You have to decide for yourself. You didn¡¯t know?¡± ¡°No, what? What are you talking about?¡± ¡°It¡¯s part of the whole agreement that formed the Invigilation.¡± Bernt explained. Maybe all the post-imperial history Iriala had made him learn wasn¡¯t a complete waste of time. ¡°Humanity sets its own course, and the gods support it as long as they don¡¯t betray their covenant with them. The gods will only interfere personally on such a grand scale if all four are in agreement, which hasn¡¯t happened since the Invigilation was formed. That means Ruzinia won''t tell you what to choose.¡± Bernt raised an eyebrow, looking over at Olias. ¡°Right?¡± The old man shrugged. ¡°No idea. I¡¯m just saying that Ruzinians are always hard to come by ¨C I don¡¯t think anyone expects there to be a lot of representatives at the Conclave. That means your vote is going to be weighted more heavily than other people¡¯s. And that means you¡¯re going to have people with interests crawling all over you if you don¡¯t start ''communicating'' first. You need to set the tone before others do it for you. If you¡¯re obnoxious enough about it, they might even leave you alone after a while.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll do that whether I go and talk to them or not.¡± Torvald grumbled. ¡°I¡¯m not going to vote to send the entire continent to war in the Depths, so what is there to talk about?¡± ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know.¡± Olias replied, a little testily. ¡°Facilitating a common defense pact backed by the gods themselves would be a good start. Maybe coordinating an intelligence network that reaches into the Duergar Empire. That and making diplomatic contact with their Imperial Council.¡± ¡°Also, getting all the attending countries to send adventuring teams into the Depths to gather intelligence,¡± Bernt added. ¡°Iriala said the existing data is over a century old in some cases, and huge portions haven¡¯t ever been properly mapped. We need to know where the Duergar Empire¡¯s borders are and who their enemies are down there. We might find more allies.¡± Torvald scowled grumpily at both of them and then at the carraige. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not going to be able to make any of that happen here or with them.¡± ¡°No,¡± Bernt allowed, ¡°but you can make sure that the others are aware of these ideas. Maybe they''ve already thought of all this themselves, or maybe not. If Hannis likes them, you might not even have to worry about him trying to mobilize everyone for some kind of holy war in the Depths.¡± ¡°I just said I didn¡¯t want to play the game.¡± Torvald complained. ¡°This is playing the game!¡± Olias snorted and lightly slapped his grandnephew over the back of the head. ¡°No it isn¡¯t! This is how you opt out. Closest thing to it, anyway. All you''re doing is telling them what you would and wouldn¡¯t support. You say your piece before all the smart-mouthed diplomatic types come around with their overcomplicated ideas and muddy everything up. Your ¡°peers¡± there will start gossipping the moment we arrive. If you¡¯re a known quantity, they can work around you. Then you can let all the political people work out the details and fight over who does what and how and with whose money. Take it from a man of experience ¨C this is the most efficient way. Then you can go drinking, or whatever you do for fun. I¡¯m going to sample the local wines. You can join me if you like.¡± Bernt eyed the man skeptically. ¡°Isn¡¯t the king going to be very interested in all those small details? I thought you¡¯d be pushing him to get involved in all that stuff...¡± Olias rolled his eyes. ¡°Renias knows better than to send me for that. I¡¯m here because he wanted to get me out of his court for a few months. That, and to make sure people notice that we have one of Ruzinia¡¯s Chosen in the family now. That sort of thing goes over wonderfully with the masses. And also, I volunteered.¡± Torvald choked. ¡°You¡­ why? My mother told me you hated traveling.¡± ¡°That was over thirty years ago!" Olias rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively. "Besides, I wanted a change of scenery. Teres isn''t so great, you know? And how else was I going to meet my young grandnephew? Of course, nobody bothered to warn me we¡¯d be getting chased by murderous demons the entire way.¡± ¡°That was always a risk,¡± Torvald said. ¡°We might run into the Duergar themselves at some point, too. They must have said something.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t pay attention at the briefing,¡± Olias grumbled in reply. ¡°Why are you still here? Get into that damned carriage and tell them what you think!¡± *** That evening, they reached a mid-sized farming town at the foot of a large mountain to the west. The weather was noticeably warmer here, and many of the fields were green with winter crops. Bernt could practically feel the sigh of relief shiver through the group when they came in sight of the walls. There would be no camping out in the open that night. That tension returned in the morning, when they found that Torvald was missing. Thet organized a search party and tried to contact the guard, but it turned out to be unnecessary. He¡¯d only been called out on another divine rescue mission ¨C this time to save a child from an abusive home. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The paladin¡¯s testimony had been enough to see the boy sent to a relative to live and to have his father pilloried in the town square. ¡°You know, you¡¯re supposed to take me along for this stuff,¡± Bernt complained once they¡¯d found him and gotten underway again. ¡°As part of the Invigilation, you¡¯re technically a foreign agent ¨C it¡¯s literally my job to keep track of you!¡± Torvald scoffed, unrepentant. ¡°They didn¡¯t know that. Besides, nobody doubts a Ruzinian. We don¡¯t have a hidden agenda and we don¡¯t play games.¡± Bernt frowned at him thoughtfully and, after a moment, decided to let it go. He was right ¨C nobody would question a real paladin of Ruzinia, but that wasn¡¯t why he¡¯d left Bernt behind. No, his friend was just working through some things. Torvald was probably still bitter about having to talk to the priests about the Conclave ¨C to play their game, as he¡¯d said. Bernt¡¯s presence as his legitimator made him a part of those political games. He was, after all, the paladin¡¯s government-appointed minder. He could understand wanting to escape for a few hours. He¡¯d still have to include it in his eventual report to Count Narald, though. *** The next several days passed mostly uneventfully, though they were stressful all the same. Bernt and Estrid further refined their nightly defenses, and on the second night, Leirin and Uriah began to get involved more significantly as well. The hydromancer saturated the ground outside their slightly elevated camps with water, turning their surroundings into a temporary bog. Leirin, capitalizing on this, planted what he called ¡°marsh stranglers¡± in the improvised moat. The innocuous looking vines were carnivorous and would drag small prey down into the water to drown. It wouldn¡¯t kill something as large as a demon, but it would be an inconvenience and slow them down if they came again. Every night Xul¡¯Evareg performed her ritual, and every night she reported that demons were nearby. They were being followed every step of the way. But no attacks came, until finally they rode into view of Gobford. Where Lochholme was characterized by an air of past greatness fallen on hard times, this city had the air of a place that had never really planned to be great in the first place, thank you very much. Cheap wooden buildings and shanties spilled beyond the walls, sprawling out from the crowded city center toward the fields. As they approached, Bernt smelled the familiar odor of sewage running down shallow gutters in the obviously unplanned outer neighborhoods. Still, someone had gone to the trouble of paving the streets, which was more than many cities could say for their slums. The smell improved once they got inside the walls, but it was clear that this place had outgrown itself and never quite adapted to its status as a proper city. Buildings that had likely started as simple stone and brick houses in a much smaller town rose three or four stories up into the air, with wooden and half-timber construction slowly layered over the existing structures. In most cases, the upper floors were slightly larger than the ones below them, giving the houses a unique style, while also casting the streets below into shadow. After getting settled at a local inn, Bernt excused himself to find the Mages¡¯ Guild. They¡¯d made it more than halfway to the Sacral Peaks, and he still hadn¡¯t managed to do any research to speak of. That was going to change here ¨C he wasn¡¯t going to miss out on Gobford¡¯s guild library. There was a pass leading through the mountains a few days¡¯ south of there, though the border area was supposed to be guarded by the Illurians. Past it lay the Phoenix Reaches. It was by far the most accessible way to gain entry. If any guild branch outside of Teres had some solid research on the place, it would be here. The guild building, like the city itself, had what Bernt could only describe as ¡°character¡±. What had probably started as a simple square building made of stone transitioned into round tower at the third floor, which went on to rise dramatically over the rest of the city. Some of the floors had large balconies, while others had misaligned windows of various sizes. It all looked a little¡­ unintentional, as if no one had bothered to consult an architect in the construction. It wasn¡¯t pretty, but¡­. looking it over for a few seconds, Bernt decided that he liked it. The entire place had a lived-in feel that made him feel at home, somehow, even though it was nothing like Halfbridge. He entered the building, wondering at how different cities in a single country could be so drastically different. Was it the culture? Different kinds of governance and architectural guidelines? Or was it just about money? The reception area of the guild here had no desk, and no one to greet or manage visitors. Instead, the wall across from the door featured a map of the building detailing where everything was. The library was on the second floor, and the Scryers¡¯ Office up on the fifth. It was already evening, but they would be open for another two hours. He had time to drop into the library first to see if it, at least, hadn¡¯t been cleaned out like the one in Lochholme. Besides, it was on his way. Taking the steps two at a time, Bernt hurried up, offering a nod to a passing mage who gave him a curious look as he passed, but didn¡¯t challenge him. The door to the Gobford guild library had been left open, and Bernt stepped inside unchallenged. There was a desk next to the door, but it wasn¡¯t occupied. They really did things differently here than back home. How did they keep out unauthorized visitors? The entire place was a single room that encompassed almost the entire floor. It was still smaller than the library in Halfbridge, but it was absolutely packed with books and scrolls. Throwing glances left and right to check the placards indicating various sections, Bernt strode through the stacks. It was an odd organizational system, and it wasn¡¯t immediately clear how to find anything. For example, there were sections for elemental magics like pyromancy and geomancy, but there was also an entirely separate section for combat magic, with subsections for various specializations. Similarly, there were small, dedicated sections for each of the various professions that guild mages might pursue. Stopping at the pyromancy section, Bernt browsed through the titles, looking for anything that might have something to do with elemental summoning or the Phoenix Reaches. He¡¯d have to ask someone about finding anything related to sorcery ¨C there was no telling exactly where something like that might get filed away here. Nothing immediately stood out, but there was a lot of material here. Ideally, he needed to find books authored by local wizards. Copies of more prolific work would likely already have been in the Halfbridge library. He needed a local. Bernt spent a few more minutes looking for the librarian, but finally gave up and climbed up to the fifth floor. He''d come back later and hope someone would be there who could help him out. Pulling Iriala¡¯s token and a prepared note from his pocket, Bernt knocked twice on the door on the landing and entered. A brown-robed mage, presumably the missing librarian, hastily rose from her position on the lap of the man sitting behind the front desk of the Scryers¡¯ Office. She brushed past him, coughing in embarrassment and turning bright red as she descended the stairs. Bernt watched her go and then turned back to the scryer manning the desk. ¡°Ahem,¡± the man said, flushing and trying to straighten his robe. ¡°How can I help you?¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to send a message to the guild in Halfbridge,¡± Bernt said, putting the note and token down on the desk. ¡°Directly, please.¡± The clerk eyed the token for a second, then his eyebrows shot up. ¡°Wow. I mean, sure, okay.¡± He picked up the note and disappeared through a door behind him for a moment. Bernt heard voices for a few seconds, then he was back. ¡°We¡¯ll have that taken care of right away. All things considered, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s got to be pretty urgent. I bet all the big players are trying to coordinate a solid response right now.¡± Bernt blinked. ¡°Ehm, I¡¯ve been on the road from Lochholme for five days. Just got here. What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Oh, no way! You don¡¯t know?! Teres is under attack. The garrison and the crown guard were trying to secure more of the depths under the city and ran right into a Duergar army. They¡¯ve been actively fighting for nearly two days.¡± 3.35 Innovation ¡°What does that mean?¡± Torvald asked. Bernt had found him and several of the others gathered around a table to hear Nirlig drunkenly regale them with the story of how he¡¯d lost his two missing fingers. The way Bernt remembered it, the goblin hadn''t thought it was very funny when his father had dragged back to safety, but he supposed enough beer could take the edge off of anything. They''d been laughing when he came in, but the mood had sombered up quickly when he brought the news about Teres. ¡°It¡¯s bad business.¡± Ksuwa grumbled around her cup. ¡°Big demons never came for us, up in the wilds, you know? It¡¯s because we don¡¯t live in cities. Probably looks like a tasty beehive to a bear. You''d think humans would have learned from the last time.¡± Ina, who was sitting next to Nirlig, elbowed the older woman to shut her up, but she just rolled her eyes and took another swig. ¡°Well, it sounds like they caught them early,¡± Emata said, ignoring the goblins, ¡°so the enemy didn¡¯t get the element of surprise. They might be poorly positioned, too, and vulnerable. The garrison alone has over ten thousand soldiers, and the crown guard is another three thousand elites. Honestly, the generals in Teres are probably thinking about counterattacking more than simple defense. It''s the best time for it.¡± Bernt swallowed, digesting that. ¡°Isn¡¯t that insanely dangerous? I thought we stayed out of the Depths for a reason.¡± It was better than having their capital get overrun or besieged, but this would still be a bad developmentfor the Mages¡¯ Guild. If Besermark was already invading the Depths by the time talks started, there would be no status quo to defend. Iriala¡¯s directive to him ¨C to keep Besermark from committing to a full-scale war that would inevitably gut the entire Mages'' Guild for a generation ¨C would be pointless. The Invigilation couldn¡¯t drag Besermark into a massive subterranean war if they were already in one. What was he supposed to do at that point? They still didn''t know if they were actually fighting the entire Empire, but did that really matter now? The part that was beneath them was attacking. He needed to ask Iriala for advice. Emata shrugged. ¡°We have a disadvantage down there, compared to them. But that doesn¡¯t mean we can just let them dig right under our cities. Soldiers get sent into unfavorable conditions all the time ¨C it¡¯s part of the job. The Duergar were stupid to try to reach us where we¡¯re strongest. Impatient. Maybe they got overconfident after Loamfurth. As long as we don¡¯t overextend, our forces should be able to punish the Duergar pretty severely for that.¡± ¡°Damn.¡± Torvald sat back and glanced at Bernt and then Nirlig. ¡°Do you think they¡¯re going to make Josie go and fight?¡± Bernt shrugged. ¡°The Solicitors aren¡¯t technically obligated, since they¡¯re not a chartered guild¡­ but they¡¯ve got to be pretty angry about the damage the Duergar warlocks are doing to their reputation. I mean, the Invigilation is already being reactivated ¨C how long until they start purging Beseri warlocks again? People are scared already. I¡¯d be surprised if they didn¡¯t try to get involved somehow, and Josie¡¯s the only one who has fought them before.¡± ¡°She''ll be fine,¡± Nirlig said. ¡°They''d probably want her in an advisory role, or something. Can¡¯t be worse than getting pinned down in the Undercity.¡± Whatever happened, they weren¡¯t going to be able to do much about it. They needed to get to the Peaks. By the time they finished the talks, whatever was going to happen at Teres would likely already be over. The others continued to speculate, but Bernt excused himself and headed to bed ¨C they weren¡¯t staying in the city long, and he had a busy day at the library ahead of him tomorrow. *** ¡°Do you really think they¡¯re going to let me in?¡± Uriah asked tiredly as Bernt led the reluctant hydromancer down the street toward the Mages¡¯ Guild tower. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re going to make an exception just because you¡¯re there.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± Bernt argued, opening the door. ¡°I didn¡¯t even see a librarian when I was here yesterday. Nobody asked me for any guild identification, either.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I won¡¯t get fined if they catch me.¡± Uriah grumbled. But he came anyway. Bernt had already had this conversation with him once, when he convinced him to come along over breakfast. They were only going to be in the city for a single day, and they would be able to go through a lot more material together than if Bernt had to do it alone. Like yesterday, the library¡¯s doors stood open, though this time the desk by the door was properly manned by a brown-robed man. He glanced up from a book he was reading as they entered, then did a double take. ¡°Oh, hello!¡± he greeted them, eyes growing round when he noticed their gray robes. ¡°Visitors from afar ¨C and Underkeepers at that, incredible!" He stood up and gave a tiny bow. "Head librarian Kain, at your service. Where are you from? Did you come to look at our new section on underkeeping? I didn¡¯t realize that word would have already gotten around, it¡¯s only been a month!¡± Bernt blinked. ¡°I¡­ you have a section for Underkeepers?¡± He did want to see that, actually. The librarian nodded energetically, closing his book. ¡°We do! First one in the entire country. I worked with Archmage Gren ¨C he heads our local branch ¨C to put it together earlier this year. Are you looking for work? I can introduce you. Delightful man. He operates out of the basement here ¨C there¡¯s an entrance out back, behind the tower.¡± ¡°No, thanks,¡± Bernt stopped the talkative man with a raised hand. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll drop in later, but we¡¯re not looking for work right now. We came down from Halfbridge. I was hoping you¡¯d have some local research on the Phoenix Reaches that our own library doesn¡¯t have copies of. Ideally anything on exotic pyromantic materials.¡± He nodded over toward Uriah. ¡°And my friend is doing some research on sorcery, especially any theoretical texts, and maybe anything about hydromancy that could be relevant to that.¡± ¡°Hmmm, yes... yes. A lot of interest in that kind of stuff lately.¡± The librarian stood up, peering at Uriah curiously. ¡°I heard some crazy wizard worked out how to do sorcery through an investment procedure ¨C somebody out of Halfbridge. You know him?¡± ¡°Ehm. I do, yes¡­¡± Uriah said uncertainly, exchanging a glance with Bernt, who raised his right hand, letting the sleeve fall back to reveal the faintly glowing lines of the sorcerous investiture under his skin. He smiled sheepishly. ¡°I was trying to fix some spiritual damage to my mana network. It worked, but¡­ there were side effects. My name is Bernt.¡± Kain leaned forward, examining Bernt¡¯s arm as if he was trying to memorize the pattern. ¡°Well, well. Now that¡¯s very interesting. Strange. Can you cast normally?¡± Bernt shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Not quite. It¡¯s more limited in what I can do with it. We¡¯re trying to work out if I can use it to help my friend here. If you could point him to anything that might be of use, we¡¯d really appreciate it. I¡¯d be happy to tell you about the sorcerous investiture while we do that¡­?¡± ¡°Right! Of course.¡± He turned around and led them down the stacks toward where Bernt had been looking earlier. As they walked, Bernt gave Kane the condensed version of how he¡¯d created his sorcerous investiture, the limits it placed on his casting and the difficulties involved with mastering its use. The librarian took them to a section vaguely labeled ¡°Monsters and Beasts¡± and, without hesitating for a moment, selected four books off the shelves. He held them out to Uriah. The top one, Bernt could see, was called Elemental Anatomy. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°These are probably your best bet for learning something about the nature of sorcery. They¡¯re mostly research notes from wizards who messed around with monsters and the odd elemental that accidentally wandered out of the Phoenix Reaches. I can¡¯t really speak to their accuracy or usefulness ¨C it was never a very rigorous area of study here in Besermark.¡± ¡°Yeah, okay. Thanks.¡± Uriah took the books, eying Kain as if he still expected the man to demand a sample of his mana and throw him out. When that didn¡¯t happen, he sat down in a comfortable chair that had been strategically placed into a nearby corner and opened the first book. The librarian didn¡¯t even seem to notice, continuing to ask Bernt about his experiences with sorcery so far as he led him back the way they¡¯d come. ¡°Do you think you could put together your notes on the subject for me? I¡¯m sure our local Wizards¡¯ Society would be delighted to see them, and I¡¯d make sure they credit you in any research they publish based on your work, of course.¡± ¡°I¡­ sure, I don¡¯t mind,¡± Bernt replied. ¡°But I don¡¯t really have time to copy everything ¨C I didn¡¯t use heavy paper for my notes, so duplicating them isn¡¯t a great idea.¡± He should have considered this earlier. With Besermark at war, sorcery needed to be developed as quickly as possible, both to bring burnt out war mages back into the field, and to ensure that the Mages¡¯ Guild wasn¡¯t decimated in the conflict. ¡°Could you contact Magister Pollock at the Halfbridge branch? He¡¯s my mentor, and he was involved in the project. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he understands what I¡¯m doing better than I do. He just prefers for me to figure things out on my own.¡± Kain grinned. ¡°A wise man. Knowledge does not a scholar make! It¡¯s about inquisitiveness, rigor, and that sweet, sweet moment of clarity when everything comes together and suddenly makes sense ¨C the breakthrough.¡± He took a deep breath as if savoring a smell and then sighed contentedly. ¡°Right¡­¡± Bernt replied, ¡°I suppose.¡± Arriving at the pyromancy section, Kain quickly pulled out a handful of books, including two with covers and spines that were entirely blank. Was he using a spell to locate them? ¡°Here are research notes on known pyromantic materials of the Phoenix Reaches by our own local wizards. I¡¯d refer you to the actual researchers, except that the Illurians haven¡¯t let us enter the Reaches in about thirty years. Those who are still around mostly aren¡¯t in the city ¨C they travel to wherever their interests lead them. Bernt thanked the man, who nodded and excused himself as he settled down to read. Hopefully, he¡¯d have enough time to drop by the underkeeping section as well. Who knew what kinds of useful tips and tricks he might find? *** Iriala tapped nervously at the letter on her desk as Ed double checked the chalk markings on the floor of her office against a heavy book that he was holding open in one hand. ¡°This feels crazy,¡± she said. ¡°And not the fun kind of crazy, either. Are you sure this is a good idea?¡± ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine.¡± Ed grumbled. ¡°Morons can pull this off. Cultist morons.¡± ¡°Sure, but your Duergar isn¡¯t that much better than mine,¡± she retorted. ¡°What if you¡¯re misreading something?¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, and you know it. The summoning circle is in demonic glyphs, not Duergar. The book just includes a bunch of repetitive sycophantic chanting to Varamemnon, which is obviously not relevant or necessary in our case. I know how this works¡­ well enough, anyway.¡± ¡°I know, I know,¡± she griped. She couldn¡¯t help it if breaking century old taboos put her a little on edge. ¡°But what if you get the wrong demon?¡± Ed scowled. ¡°Can¡¯t really think of one we can¡¯t kill between the two of us ¨C not one that could squeeze itself into that little circle, anyway. Besides, you¡¯re the one who said we needed to do something. You want to just leave it alone, instead? Because I won¡¯t. We could transform the entire war with this. Besides, I¡¯m not going to sit on my hands while one of my people gets hunted down ¨C not when I can do something about it instead.¡± ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right.¡± Iriala conceded, glancing down at the letter again. Ed had told her all about his time in the hells. Putting it all together with Bernt¡¯s end of the story had given her an idea ¨C she just hadn¡¯t thought they¡¯d need to begin implementation so quickly. Ideally, they would have cooperated with the Solicitors on this, but neither she nor Ed fully trusted Radast. He¡¯d stuck to the letter of his word, sure, but he hadn¡¯t played it straight with them either. He was a frustrating ally, and an asshole. Besides, they could always bring him in later, if needed. Ed dug a small bundle of dried herbs from his pocket and inspected it for a moment. He pursed his lips and, coming to a decision, brought it over to her desk. She could see what he was thinking, but she didn¡¯t stop him. They¡¯d had this conversation before, and it wasn¡¯t worth it. Holding it over the wooden surface, the old idiot cast a quick cantrip, and the part of the bundle he wasn¡¯t holding fell, minced into tiny bits. Then he grabbed a generous pinch of the mess and packed it into his pipe. Lighting it, he puffed on it for a moment and smacked his lips experimentally. ¡°I think that smokes pretty well,¡± he opined, peering into the bowl of his pipe. ¡°Not bad.¡± Iriala just rolled her eyes and gestured back toward the circle. ¡°Don¡¯t be like that, Iri.¡± Ed grinned. ¡°You have to get your enjoyment where you can.¡± Turning back to his work, he began a low chant. As far as she could tell, he was just saying Jori¡¯s full name over and over again, using slightly different inflections each time. As he did, she could sense him direct a small stream of mana at the circle, activating it. Most warlocks ¨C those who weren¡¯t mages ¨C would use some of their blood instead, but that was ultimately just a less efficient way to transfer mana. There was no dramatic light show or noise to signal when the summoning worked. One moment there was nothing, then a better than waist-high imp was standing there. A slight sulfurous smell tickled Iriala¡¯s nose. She hadn¡¯t evolved again since the last time she¡¯d seen her but she seemed¡­ older, somehow. Still, there was no mistaking her Underkeepers¡¯ robe, or the sharp-toothed grin she flashed at Ed as soon as she saw him. ¡°Hi Ed!¡± she looked around, and then dipped her head toward Iriala a little more warily. ¡°Great mage. No warlocks today? Were they angry that you gave me the supplies?¡± Ed snorted. ¡°Radast will keep his opinions to himself if he knows what¡¯s good for him.¡± He nodded toward a small crate of paper-wrapped packages that he¡¯d brought with him. ¡°I brought you some more, actually ¨C went and found that cabbage wrap vendor you told me about down by the docks.¡± Jori¡¯s head snapped to the packages and she pounced on them, digging out a slightly soggy-looking one, her eyes gleaming. She barely bothered to tear it open before inhaling the contents. ¡°Ohhh, yes!¡± she sighed around a mouthful. ¡°That¡¯s the stuff. I should introduce these to the others.¡± That was¡­ not normal. Iriala raised an eyebrow at Ed, who just shrugged and smiled. ¡°Right, anyway. We didn¡¯t just summon you to give you a care package,¡± Iriala began, picking up the letter in demonstration. ¡°It¡¯s come to my attention that a bunch of demons are prowling around Besermark, presumably hunting our expedition.¡± Jori nodded awkwardly as she devoured the last of the spicy cabbage wrap. ¡°And Bernt specifically, yeah. Tallash was in on it, but we killed him. My cousins told me that there are two others ¨C a hag and a shade. Bernt already knows ¨C I told him all about it.¡± ¡°Yes, I understand you¡¯ve managed to reestablish contact over your familiar bond.¡± Iriala said a little stiffly. ¡°I¡¯d like to see if we can learn something from these pests. You see, when Ed came back from the hells and told me his story, I realized that your combined effort there might actually have given us another way to fight the Duergar ¨C provided that we can get your cooperation. If this plan turns out to be viable, your support might prove to be of critical value to the crown.¡± She paused for emphasis, looking at the imp over the rims of her glassed. ¡°The kind of value that you may be able to leverage to your advantage in any potential negotiations for that support.¡± The imp finally faced her fully, her red eyes fixed on her intently. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°Well, we still need to convince Bernt and his friends to hunt down one of these higher ranking demons. But if he agrees to that, we want you to kill it over on your end.¡± Jori blinked, looking back and forth between the two archmages. ¡°How is that supposed to help you fight the Duergar? It''s one demon. I can¡¯t fight Nuros¡¯ entire army, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking.¡± Ed blew out a cloud of herbaceous smoke and smiled slowly. ¡°No, but I can help you kill some pretty high-ranking ones, maybe. We just want to see what the thralls do when the head gets cut off. The ones that aren¡¯t your cousins. It should throw them into chaos, right? They won¡¯t have any further obligation to Nuros or his tentacle monster boss. So, we''ll try some of the lower-ranked ones as an experiment. And if that works, we can try Nuros¡¯ direct lieutenants.¡±