ã€ŠDefier of Fate [Strong to Stronger Prog Fantasy]ã€‹


 Prologue - Balidar the Destroyer

    The old wizard stared deep into the scrying pool built into the highest room of his tower; Paris burned, Versaille was in ruins. Hot winds howled outside unheeded as he stared at endless scenes of devastation. The Grand Spire of the Magus in Rome was shattered. In Constantinople, fire efreeti and hell hounds stalked the streets hunting for survivors amidst the wreckage of the once proud city. The Seven-Sided Pagoda lay broken on the slopes of Mount Tai, and the scholars and mages of Izumo Taisha lay dead outside the destroyed shrine as the carefully curated ponds boiled around them.

    The old man gripped his staff so tightly his knuckles were white. All Taliesin could see were flames and ruin. Cities and towns were laid asunder as their nations burned. Forests and fields were naught but ash, the rivers and seas boiling away under the might of Balidar the Destroyer and his endless legions of efreeti, fire giants and hell hounds. Against the encroaching inferno, his tower in Londinium stood alone, the last bastion of humanity. He was bent under the weight of loss and responsibility to his people, but he was unbroken.

    The strange continent of Africa had fallen to the Destroyer first, despite the united power of the Maasai nation, while the savages of the Americas followed soon after. The ¡®uncivilized¡¯ continents had not advanced much beyond shamanistic magics and blood rites and proved easy prey for the hungry armies of Balidar. Asia was far stronger and held out long enough for the nations of Europe to gather their fractious might, but when the massive armies of the Chinese dynasties began to fall, Taliesin knew they were doomed, and looked for a way out for his people.

    With a sigh of regret, Taliesin released his scrying spell. The images of destruction and doom faded from the still waters. He took a moment to wash his face and tidy his hair, for he was still but a servant to the great Lords of Britain and must be presentable. He gathered up his Staff of the Four Winds and straightened his enchanted robes. Taliesin was at the height of his power, easily the most brilliant mage seen anywhere on Earth in a hundred generations, yet for all that he lacked the ability to repel the Destroyer.

    Taliesin walked down the long stairs of the tower and out into the castle proper. It was built at the edge of Londinium, set out on an escarpment of bedrock a thousand meters deep and towering high above the city. He exited the stairs at the top of the castle walls rather than continuing down to the muster yards where Arthur¡¯s knights had trained, then walked to the edge to look down into the courtyard.

    Below was a massive Gate, standing easily twice the height of a man. The Gate was constructed of stone and mithril, every inch covered in a dense web of runes that glowed with an eerie eldritch light. Yet what showed through the Gate was anything but disturbing - clear blue skies lit by a warm sun hanging over a wide, lush field. An ancient forest lay to the north, and in the distance were snow-capped mountains. It was an untamed paradise, and it was the escape Taliesin had found for all of his people. It was their salvation.

    A line of carts filled with goods and thousands of citizens filed through the Gate as swiftly as they were able. Many of them gave the sign of the cross and whispered prayers to Jesu Invictus before stepping through. The line extended out the open castle portcullis and all the way into the heart of the city. The dukes had worked together for once and sent through an army to secure a place for the people, swiftly followed by farmers and builders. Everyone else was going now. Neat rows of soldiers stood alongside the path in enchanted suits of armor, the pride of the British Isles and the elite powerhouses that had helped the island survive as humanity''s last bastion. They kept the lines moving and stood ready to battle should the enemy fall upon them at this last, most inopportune moment. The nation was committed, and had no other options now. It was time to either evacuate or perish. With their entire winter food supply as well as every scrap of metal, tools, and ready building material all shoved through this unstable Gate to a strange new realm, now it was down to saving as many lives as possible before time ran out.

    Boots scraped against stone behind the old wizard. He did not turn to look, for it could be no one else.

    ¡°Milord Duke,¡± Taliesin said respectfully as he leaned heavily on his staff.

    ¡°Taliesin,¡± said Duke Arthur as he took up a position to Taliesin¡¯s left. This put Taliesin at the Duke¡¯s right hand. The Pendragon never failed to consider symbolism, even in the private moments of daily life. Even a wizard who would normally be scorned in polite society was respected by the noble. He is a good master to these people, Taliesin thought to himself.

    They stood silently together, watching as the soldiers helped an elderly peasant steer a cart heavily loaded with vital food supplies. The man¡¯s family was behind the cart, but the donkey pulling it had balked. Aside from a glimpse through the Gate, neither Taliesin or the Duke had seen sunlight since the flaming legions landed on their shores three months ago. Ash and smoke had replaced clouds and rain. They considered it lucky to get in one final harvest before the invasion force created a successful beachhead for their forces in Dover.

    ¡°What news have you?¡± asked Duke Arthur finally.

    ¡°We are the last,¡± The old wizard reported sadly. He stroked his white beard out of habit. ¡°I could find no life outside of my shields.¡±

    ¡°Can you hold the enemy at bay long enough to complete the evacuation?¡± he asked, looking more resigned than alarmed.

    ¡°The Gate draws most of my power, even with the Orb of Eternity to fuel it. Even now, I¡¯m forced to pull back the shields. The island is lost to us. I am protecting only the city now. Any who remained in the outlying villages are dead. Balidar¡¯s armies have slowed to burn it all. Their own rapaciousness is our only salvation. If they had any urgency to their attack, we¡¯d be doomed.¡±

    Duke Arthur frowned. ¡°Can we truly save no one else?¡±

    The duke was far younger than Taliesan, yet he bore the weight of responsibility well. Taliesin was once more impressed at the young Duke¡¯s courage and desire to protect their people. It was radically different from the old king¡¯s temperament, or for any of the other squabbling Dukes for that matter. Taliesin had worked to protect these lands for decades even as the world literally burned around them, yet the nobility had barely risen to the challenge. Arthur was cut from a different cloth. He made his decision.

    With a sigil drawn deftly in the air, Taliesin cast a minor summoning to grab an item from his nearby tower. From within, he drew forth a sword in an engraved scabbard. The spell ended in a tiny flash of blue light, leaving only the sheathed weapon in his hands. He turned to Duke Arthur.

    ¡°The Merlin would have sent you on a quest for this, perhaps leaving it with an ally to gift to you. I am no fan of such games, especially in such dark days. This is the blade Excalibur. When you reach the Realm of Avalon, you must unite your people. The might of this sword will aid you. If the fractious politicking amongst the other Dukes continues in the new realm, it may doom you all.¡± It was the most words Taliesin had spoken in days.

    For once the Pendragon was speechless. ¡°My word! Won''t the Merlin object?¡±

    Taliesin may have been the genius talent of a hundred generations, but none could compare to the strength and raw power of the famed wizard known only as the Merlin. Over the decades, Taliesin¡¯s knowledge had surpassed the Merlin, yet even he could not hold a candle to the Merlin¡¯s might.

    ¡°My former master abandoned this realm, Duke Arthur, in favor of another where the world may actually be saved. He left me behind, not even staying for the funeral of his sister - my wife! Ganieda and my son, both dead, yet he couldn¡¯t be bothered. I care not for his objections.¡± Taliesin complained bitterly, then turned to look at him full on. This was history from before Arthur¡¯s birth, a deep well of bitterness that was still lodged in the old man¡¯s heart. Yet this loss from long ago had left him with one sole duty to discharge - the protection of his people. ¡°You will be a good king, Duke Arthur, once free of this madness. I only wish I were there to see it.¡±

    ¡°Surely you will remain at my side?¡± said the Duke, his eyes rising from the new sword in his hands. ¡°A sword alone will not help me rule wisely.¡±

    ¡°The Caledonian Knights are loyal only to you,¡± Taliesin brushed aside the question and spoke with a stoic expression on his face. ¡°With them at your side, most of the army will side with you as well. Seize the food supplies immediately, and you¡¯ll have a bloodless victory from the very start.¡±

    Arthur laughed, but there was a thoughtful expression on his face. ¡°I can only imagine how the other dukes will respond. But why do you speak as if you cannot be there?¡±

    ¡°Someone must close the Gate, so that Balidar does not follow. I can hold the line alone for at least that long.¡±

    ¡°Is there no other way, old friend? Can I not render at least some aid to your stand?¡±

    ¡°I have lived a long life. Jesu Invictus willing, I shall be with Ganieda and Ambrose in the Infinite Heavens once the Gate is destroyed. Your safety will be my victory.¡±

    Duke Arthur nodded and clasped the wizard¡¯s shoulder meaningfully. Arthur had been tutored by Taliesin in his youth, and took Taliesin for an advisor upon his father¡¯s death and Arthur¡¯s own ascension to power. Arthur choked up for a moment, but could recognize the resolve in Taliesin¡¯s voice. He did not disrespect him by trying to dissuade his decision, nor did he proffer false words of honor and farewell. Taliesin was glad to see his decision reaffirmed. Sometimes, the best thing to say was nothing at all.

    ¡°Retreat! Retreat through the Gate! Run! Leave it all behind!¡± shouted the Caledonian Knights at Taliesin¡¯s back.

    Panicked civilians fled through the gate, leaving behind wheelbarrows and small wagons. Women scooped up children, while men gathered what they could move swiftly. The Knights kept the crowd moving, and on more than one occasion they helped people who tripped back to their feet before they could be trampled.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Taliesin stood at the top of the closed castle gates as powerful gouts of fire blasted away at the arcane shields he¡¯d retracted to protect the castle. He¡¯d been forced to draw back his protections to the castle walls and watch as Londinium burned before him, lest the shields fail altogether. Thousands of effreeti were assaulting the castle, each wiry with abnormally long limbs and flames crowning their heads instead of hair. They had swords in one hand and fire spells in the other. Behind them, massive fire giants were gathering boulders for the bombardment, ripped straight out of buildings and the very streets of the city. They loomed so large they would be at eye level with him once they reached the walls.

    Inside the courtyard, the last of the castle staff and cargo teamsters were abandoning their posts. They¡¯d nearly finished their work, but had simply run out of time. The last few dozen carts of supplies would be lost to the refugees. Duke Arthur stood at the Gate, watching impassively as people fled by him into the peaceful countryside on the other side. The knights were retreating in good order, as well. The movements were almost choreographed, abandoning the walls as one to leave Taliesin the sole defender against the fiery horde.

    Taliesin was in full battle regalia. His Staff of the Four Winds was in one hand, while his Celestial Grimoire floated before him on his left. Taliesin hovered over the parapet of the wall, his masterwork mage robes glowing with lines of energy. Taliesin spared one final look back at Duke Arthur, for it was time to truly lay waste to his enemies. Below the surface of his calm mien, years of repressed anger and helplessness raged, barely held in check.

    The Pendragon was the last man in the courtyard below. All others had left, leaving him standing alone with his Knights lined up and waiting on the other side. Arthur and Taliesin made eye contact, Arthur¡¯s frost blue eyes meeting the wizard¡¯s that glowed with every bit of his eldritch might. The Duke nodded a respectful farewell, then turned and walked to the safety of the new realm without looking back. He had done his part, and trusted in Taliesin to do his.

    Taliesin immediately began to draw more power from the Orb of Eternity, which was embedded in the side of the Gate. The portal flickered and destabilized, obscuring the view to the other side. The connection was still there, however, needing only an infusion of power to reconnect. But with this fresh infusion of power, Taliesin would be a one man army - if only for a few minutes. The old man expected that he would burn himself out and die soon after. He had long come to accept his fate, so long as he had time to destroy the Gate completely. Decades of work safeguarding his people would come to fruition in the battle. Taliesin viewed his own life as a fair trade for that of his people.

    The old man turned his attention to the hordes at the castle walls. He glared down at them with all his anger, finally allowed to unleash his power at the foe that had destroyed his world. Taliesin stared down at them and prepared to unleash his own version of hell.

    With a deep breath, Taliesin settled himself. He allowed the aether under his control to rise up, and it swirled around him as his grimoire¡¯s pages flew open and fluttered to a page at his thought. Taliesin had many spells memorized, but the Celestial Grimoire held hundreds, ready to cast as needed. He nodded to himself, and loosed his anger upon the army below.

    ¡°{Animus Blast}¡± he intoned, and a torrent of arcane energy washed forth. A massive blast of arctic power laced with lightning landed in the midst of the enemy, freezing hundreds of fiery creatures with its impossible cold even as horrendous energy devastated them. His soul rejoiced to strike at his enemies, but it was not nearly enough to slake his rage.

    ¡°{Infernal Doom}¡± came the next spell. A ball of glowing plasma the size of the castle keep appeared above the enemy army, burning with hellish flame. The efreeti laughed as it descended, for flames only empowered them. The laughter ended when the unholy fire burned them to cinders in a flash, destroying another thousand with an infernal energy far too powerful for them to absorb. Taliesin laughed at their dismay, yet it was a wrathful sound with no joy in it.

    These two powerful spells wreaked havoc on the enemy army and bought the wizard time to rattle off a few spells that weren¡¯t epic level even as his castle-sized shield flickered and failed. He could not defend and attack at the same time, and could not close the Gate while focusing on defense. Taliesin needed his enemy in chaos so that he could slip from the walls to the Gate.

    ¡°{Storm of Vengeance}, {Meteor Strike}, {Acid Spray}!¡± Taliesin shouted, gesturing across the army and letting his magic go, along with his anger and frustration. It was liberating, to let loose with no regard for consequence. Already, he could feel the constant stream of power tearing at his insides, threatening to rip him to shreds even as it obeyed his commands. The wizard spotted an enemy general trying to regroup his soldiers and targeted him. ¡°{Celestial Tempest}!¡±

    The shield quit completely. Taliesin cast one last spell, {Illusory Clone}. A duplicate image of the old man appeared in his place. The clone cast dozens of fake ice attacks that sent the enemy diving for cover and allowed Taliesin to sneak off the walls. It would take only a scant few seconds for enemy fireballs to rip the illusion to shreds after they realized the fake spells were doing no damage. Taliesin needed every one of those seconds.

    He landed next to the Gate and began to work on the enchantments. First he shifted the portal to one of dozens of other worlds he¡¯d scryed. It had taken hundreds of worlds to find even one where they could survive, and thousands before Taliesin had found the one his people could thrive in.

    ¡°We can thrive there,¡± mumbled Taliesin to himself. Then he shook his head as he worked and corrected himself. ¡°They can thrive.¡± He knew he was a dead man.

    ¡°This is it? One sole holdout managed to scatter my armies so easily?¡± came a deep voice from behind the old wizard that sounded like the two rocks grinding together.

    Taliesin looked over his shoulder to see Balidar the Destroyer standing there in all his terrible glory. He stood near ten meters tall, with two black horns protruding almost straight upward from his forehead. Balidar had long, scaly dreadlocks cascading from his head, each one flaming at the end and able to move independently to attack if he so desired. Black armor rested atop his red skin, and hellish runes carved deep into the infernal metal glowed dully with the color of hot embers. Balidar carried a sword twice as tall as Taliesin, rested casually on his shoulder.

    Taliesin did not stop working or otherwise acknowledge him. He gave the control rune a spin, sending the gate connecting randomly to other worlds faster than anyone could keep track of. Then he ripped the Orb of Eternity from the Gate.

    ¡°Where are the people? Did you hide them from me?¡± asked Balidar angrily. He had finally realized Taliesin was truly alone.

    ¡°They are beyond your reach, Destroyer. You can hurt them no more,¡± replied the wizard. The control rune was still spinning, but the Gate still had plenty of power stored. Taliesin needed to keep the demon distracted to lower the chances he could find where Taliesin¡¯s people had escaped to. If the power ran out altogether, Taliesin knew that it would be almost impossible for Balidar to retrace his magic.

    The Destroyer glowered at him. ¡°What have you done?! Those souls are mine, wizard. You cannot hide them from me! You still have the artifact. Give it to me, and I shall make your end swift before I hunt down your kith and kin.¡±

    Taliesin looked down at the Orb of Eternity. He could use it to fight Balidar off for a time, but he had no illusions that he could win. He shrugged his shoulders, then carelessly tossed it through the Gate as worlds kept spinning by. It fell into a realm filled with water before the Gate flashed again, a pebble in the endless sea of worlds for Balidar to seek out. It was one last act of spite that deprived the Destroyer of its power. Taliesin felt the loss of its strength immediately.

    Balidar stared at the spiteful man, struck dumb in outrage. ¡°You dare?! I will torture your soul for a thousand eons for that! You steal my souls, then deny me power as is my due?!¡±

    Faster than Taliesin could process, Balidar swung his sword at him. The flat of the blade smashed into the wizard and sent him flying across the courtyard. He tumbled to the ground, only to be struck by a gout of flame from Balidar¡¯s follow-up attack. Taliesin¡¯s Celestial Grimoire burned beside him as he coughed up blood. Agony swept through him as he felt bones in his chest grind against each other. He¡¯d broken at least a few ribs. He looked down at the ruined book, its pages burned to ash, and mourned the loss of his oldest artifact. He kept his expression fixed, unwilling to give Balidar the satisfaction of seeing him react.

    Instead, he grinned at Balidar in defiance, his teeth bloody. ¡°{Greater Ruin}.¡±

    Taliesin felt the majority of his power fuel the growing magic, the most powerful single-target spell he¡¯d ever developed. A black cloud of aether seeped into existence and dimmed the ambient light throughout the courtyard. The arcane energy darted to Balidar, smashing him with deceptively greater force than it seemed, which sent the demon stumbling back before smashing into the gatehouse. The building behind him began to collapse, further destabilizing him. Balidar fell backwards and dropped his sword. For a brief moment, the wizard dared hope.

    Taliesin stood and grasped his Staff of the Four Winds. Taliesin¡¯s robes were in ruins, bloody, torn and burned. He was severely injured from just from one round of attacks, and doubted he could withstand another.

    Balidar stood from the ruins unharmed. His armor was badly damaged, partially disintegrated from the spell. The runes guttered out and were losing their glow. ¡°You will suffer for your defiance!¡±

    Taliesin tried to cast another spell, but at the same time Balidar moved. In one moment, he was next to the wall. In the next, he snatched Taliesin up from the ground. Balidar ripped the Wand of the Four Winds from Taliesin¡¯s grasp and snapped it in one hand. His powerful claws dug into Taliesin¡¯s torso, holding him up near the demon¡¯s face. Taliesin gasped from the sharp pain as the talons scraped across his burns and carved new furrows in his skin.

    The old man coughed blood again, his injuries obviously internal as well as what could be seen. He knew his time was limited. He just needed to be a distraction for a bit longer.

    ¡°Tell me where you sent my souls!¡± shouted Balidar as his sulfurous breath blasted Taliesin¡¯s face. He scraped a claw across the wizard¡¯s chest, cutting and burning an agonizing line from shoulder to his waist. What was left of the old man¡¯s enchanted robes were merely scraps.

    ¡°Never,¡± he said weakly, then tried to spit blood at Balidar¡¯s face. The weak attempt dribbled blood onto the demon¡¯s two thumbs, his lungs damaged and unable to reach the monster.

    ¡°You defiant little thief!¡± shouted Balidar, as he threw Taliesin down to the ground. ¡°Fine! You can watch your world burn around you! Only once your world is ash, will I grant you a slow, painful death. Then I will extract what I want to know from your soul! {Rain of Fire}.¡±

    An impossible amount of aether drew into Balidar¡¯s spell, causing giant clouds of smoke to form overhead. Massive fireballs and flaming meteors fell from the sky. They slammed into the buildings and castle around them, leaving Balidar, the Gate, and Taliesin untouched. Every structure caught fire, even the stone melting in the intense heat. Taliesin felt himself growing weaker from blood loss and the drastically increased temperature. He knew he¡¯d be delirious in moments at that rate.

    At that moment, as his entire world was literally in flames around him, Taliesin recognized exactly where Balidar had thrown him. He had tossed the wizard down beside the Gate controls, where Taliesin spotted an opportunity nestled amongst the runes. The old man was next to the power matrix that powered the Gate. He could see that it was starting to run low, but there was enough left for his purposes. Using his own blood, he sketched in a few extra runes before joining them by way of a bloody sigil to the Gate. The Gate began to give off an ominous hum.

    Taliesin stumbled to his feet before the Gate. Behind him the worlds stopped flashing by, instead blurring out altogether into the void between realms. In a last act of defiance, or perhaps relief, he laughed and laughed as Balidar stared at him without comprehension.

    ¡°What did you -¡±

    The Gate¡¯s power matrix exploded, sending Balidar flying over the castle walls even as Taliesin fell backwards into the void. The last thing he saw were the shattered remnants of the Gate crumble into ruin as the portal collapsed for good.

 Chapter 1 - Akashic Records

    "But thereafter he shall suffer whatever Fate and the dread Spinners spun with her thread for him at his birth, when his mother bore him."

    - Homer

    <hr>

    All sensation ended for Taliesin after he fell through the gate. He tumbled through the void beyond. This was no realm so far as he could determine, nor was it a dimensional space. It lacked stars and moons, air and gravity. The agony from his wounds stopped instantly, as did his ability to breath. Despite this physical change he was not unduly distressed, for his need to inhale ended as well. Taliesin tried to shout, but he could make no sound. The only result of his silent screams was the expulsion of what air he did have from his lungs.

    Curious, he thought to himself. I¡¯d expected more from death.

    How long he floated, he could not determine, nor could he tell if he was moving or not. Taliesin had been flung through the gate at a terrible speed, and he suspected that he had earned further fatal injuries in the explosion. Despite having somehow survived the battle, Taliesin couldn¡¯t help but try to understand the Void. He¡¯d thought of it as ¡®the void¡¯ at first, as in devoid of life or meaning, but the longer he drifted, the more he came to understand it as ¡°the Void¡± as in a place deliberately devoid of life but with some deeper purpose in the cosmos where all realms must have sprung. Then Taliesin began to wonder if this was the fancy of a sensory-deprived mind trying to make sense out of nothing at all.

    This place defied the laws of physics, so any momentum he may have carried into it could have bled away already, or he was still hurdling along at the speed of destruction, unknowingly flying away forever. This consideration nagged at Taliesin for a while once he tired of contemplating the Void. At least there was no pain. Then he realized he was still thinking of the Void as a proper noun, so his subconscious must have settled on that side of the debate, rather than accepting that he might have started down the path towards madness.

    Boredom set in swiftly, for without pain, hunger or concerns, Taliesin had nothing to occupy his mind. He could not see, for though there was a dim glow that precluded absolute darkness, it was insufficient to even look at his own limbs. It was the complete deprivation of all his senses at its very worst.

    He stared into the gloom, trying to see¡­ anything. He hoped that with enough effort it might yield some clue as to his location and to see if anything at all existed around him. After some time, the void seemed to respond to Taliesin¡¯s desire. He could make out the dim glow of the aether around him. It was diffused and disparate, the stuff of chaos and the unformed. In his own world, such aether would flare into uncontrolled destruction. In this place, there was nothing to destroy, nor any universe to reject the nothingness.

    Despite this seeming breakthrough, Taliesin wasn¡¯t certain that he was truly looking at aether, or if instead he¡¯d simply imagined it. Instead, He replayed that final battle, and his hasty runes that he¡¯d sketched in his blood. He could not understand why the portal had caught on the Void rather than just collapsing. Over and over he studied what he¡¯d done, until he couldn¡¯t be sure if he was even recalling it correctly. He pored over his hazy memory, but could find no explanation as to why the power overload had dumped him here. Taliesin had counted on the excess energy to disintegrate the Gate and the portal as one. The explosion was a beneficial measure of spite. He¡¯d expected it to kill him, but after it had accomplished his goal of protecting the people as he¡¯d sworn to do.

    Eventually Taliesin came to the conclusion that he¡¯d succeeded, and his people¡­ He stopped his thoughts to correct his train of thought. Duke Arthur¡¯s people were safe, lost in the endless sea of realms. Should he ever somehow be able to recreate the Gate, he¡¯d still never find that world again. If he couldn¡¯t do it with all his decades of expertise, then Balidar had no chance at even building a new Gate without any of Taliesin¡¯s work left behind to analyze, much less finding Avalon.

    With that settled, at least in his own mind, Taliesin was once again alone with his own thoughts - exactly the last place he wanted to be. He had no projects to complete, no research to consider. He was left with only his own memories to contemplate, and many of them came unbidden and unwelcome.

    Memories of his dead wife and son flooded him, and for the first time in decades he had no choice but to face his grief. Initially he felt wracked with pain - mentally at least. Yet reopening these old wounds after so much time felt more like he was airing out his feelings more than the raw agony of recent loss. Taliesin instead found himself remembering the good years that preceded the tragic end. Rather than knife sharp wounds, these memories were now healed over by time and distance. A sense of bittersweet relief replaced the stress of avoidance, and the far more recent grief of watching his world destroyed while he stood helpless at his scrying pool gave him a sense of perspective.

    Age and wisdom replaced the emotional highs and lows of youth and this exercise turned that old grief into acceptance. His tragedy was but one of countless millions in the grand scheme of his now dead world. Taliesin had loved his wife and son, well and truly, but they would not have wanted him to grieve for as long as he had. A final outwelling of emotion would have brought tears, if he could still feel his body. Instead, he was left only with the emotional catharsis and warm memories of his beloved family.

    <hr>

    Eventually, Taliesin¡¯s thoughts wandered back to his wounds. He¡¯d had no way to sense time. He could have been mired in his thoughts for seconds or years. He wondered if he was simply a soul now, untethered to flesh and life. Was his body disintegrated by the nothingness that surrounded him? Would Taliesin just fade away as well, diffusing into the unformed essence that he¡¯d been hurdled into? He hoped this wasn¡¯t the situation, for dying was one thing. Losing one¡¯s soul had a permanence he refused to accept.

    Staring into the Void had brought Taliesin some understanding of himself. He¡¯d been just one of a network of wizards who had tried, and failed, to defend against Balidar and his armies. A widower and loyal follower, he had long since surrendered himself into Duke Arthur¡¯s service, working long, grueling hours rather than face the ghosts of his family and his empty apartments at the top of his tower. Taliesin realized that he had lost an important piece of life by not actually living it, and vowed that should he get that chance, he¡¯d not make that mistake again.

    Even still Taliesin could not bring himself to regret his choices, for he had been able to develop the Gate that allowed him to save thousands. The Merlin¡¯s raw power might allow him to cast dimensional spells that let him jump from realm to realm, but Taliesin¡¯s research had taken him far beyond what the Merlin could do. Taliesin had saved tens of thousands, while the Merlin had simply moved on, unable to take anyone with him and unwilling to die alongside them.

    Now that Taliesin had found peace with his grief, he accepted that Ganieda and Ambrose were either in the Infinite Heavens with Jesu Invictus or reincarnated into a new life. The second choice was heretical, an idea of the bodhisattvas in the far East, but Taliesin found the idea far more comforting than eternal life in an endless array of heavens praising Jesu. His current experience led him to think that heretical idea may have more resemblance to the realities of a thousand thousand realms.

    It occurred to Taliesin then that perhaps he could try using my magic. For someone who¡¯d been a master wizard for so many decades, it was not surprising that he decided to try a spell. Rather, the surprise came in realizing it had taken him so long to think of experimenting. He could not sense his own power, for he could not feel his body. Nor could he cast aloud or with gestures, for how could Taliesin be certain he spoke correctly or made the right movements? To his fortune, he knew many cantrips sufficiently well that he could cast them without any of these crutches. As naturally as breathing, Taliesin cast a simple [Orb of Light].

    A brilliance lit around Taliesin and gave immediate contrast to the endless nothing. His eyes watered, the first sensation he¡¯d felt since arriving, either from the sharp light or the emotion of finally seeing light once again. The feeling numbed instantly, and he could see nothing for there was nothing to see. Matter and physics simply didn¡¯t exist here, so light could not exist either. Instead, Taliesin saw the lines of aether that infused and made up the spell he¡¯d cast. He had no words for how beautiful it was. A mixture of joy and wonder flooded his mind, overwhelming him until the spell lapsed. After he regained control of his emotions, he re-cast the spell. Taliesin studied the arcane structure of this simple cantrip, and it was a revelation.

    Taliesin had, along with every other wizard in the world, been operating using the collective knowledge of hundreds of generations of spellcasters. Things worked because wizards knew they worked, but not why. Taliesin stood at the end of a thousand years of trial and error that had refined magic in his world into a few dozen styles of spellcasting and creation, but with little more than conjecture and educated guesses as to why it did. Here in this place that wasn¡¯t a place, where he was blind and could not feel, Taliesin could finally see.

    The threads that made up the spell wove a complex geometric structure of interlocking shapes of aether working in concert. A bright sphere in the center was the power source of the spellform, with all other structures stemming out from it in multiple directions. The sphere slowly dimmed over the course of the spell, which Taliesin knew could last for hours. Yet at the same time, as he watched, he could see inefficiencies in this simple casting. What am I looking at? How had it formed like that?

    Taliesin re-cast [Orb of Light] next to the last one, but slowly. It cost him a bit more aether, but he was able to watch as the spell came to life piece by piece. Each portion of the casting soon corresponded to a portion of the spell. He created the power sphere, then the structure, before finally adding in the interlocking geometric shapes. Again and again, he cast, learning as he went. Taliesin felt a giddy joy in the simple act of learning once more. It had been decades since he¡¯d had such a transcendental experience with magic, and he was getting it from a minor cantrip!

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Time passed.

    Taliesin worked his way through all of his cantrips, studying them, refining them and learning, always learning. He felt like he had understood nothing before he had arrived here. This type of spellforming was more efficient and more natural than wizardry, and Taliesin felt as though he was directly accessing the raw stuff of the arcane.

    A deep desire rooted in him to take notes, but could not, for he had only his own mind to work with. Taliesin had spent a lifetime as a scholar and researcher before Balidar came, so his own mental faculties would have to do. He absorbed himself into research to stave off the inevitable madness. Perhaps my research is my madness? Taliesin lost time to that question as he tried to determine if he¡¯d simply lost his mind and imagined everything. After some considerable debate with himself that also might have been construed as insanity, Taliesin concluded that he had not succumbed, for his studies were too internally consistent.

    More time passed.

    Taliesin reconstructed every spell he could remember. Many times he wished for his Celestial Grimoire and its hundreds of spells that he¡¯d spent a lifetime collecting. Most were useless to him at the end, superseded by better or more powerful variations. All of them could have contributed to his new learning. Without the grimoire they were gone, and he mourned that loss of knowledge.

    Instead of wallowing in self pity over his lost tome, Taliesin worked on his crowning achievement, the spell construct that had saved his¡­ Duke Arthur¡¯s people. The Gate was a complicated blend of enchanting and spellcrafting, with hundreds of individual spells and runic engravings that worked in concert to pierce the veil between worlds. It had only been possible because of the artifact, the Orb of Eternity, providing incredible amounts of power, and he¡¯d had to use the Orb to charge it for months before he could even test it.

    I could do so much now, thought Taliesin excitedly, thinking back on his life¡¯s work.

    Taliesin had spent years working on the project, and he had filled shelves with his notebooks, as well as entire workshops with prototype enchantments. Here he had only the theories he could recall and a half-dozen key spells. It mattered not at all. Taliesin had time and nothing else to do. He set about re-creating his signature achievements, but with improved understanding and many refinements.

    Linking spaces allowed Taliesin to create shortcuts between locations on the same plane of existence. He had summoned Excalibur for Duke Arthur using such a shortcut. The Gate linked two different realms, which was several magnitudes higher in difficulty. As he worked, Taliesin found countless flaws and inefficiencies in his original design. He even started wondering how the Gate had worked in the first place.

    Taliesin reconstructed several of the spells into the newer, more efficient spellforms, before marveling at the flexibility of the casting. He still had many more to go, and would need to do some serious thinking about how to work enchantments to match.

    <hr>

    Something brushed his consciousness.

    If Taliesin hadn¡¯t been so hypersensitive to aether, and so deprived of any other senses or sensations, he¡¯d never have noticed. It was the barest of touches, like passing through a soap bubble. Only it felt as if he¡¯d passed into the bubble and was inside of it somehow.

    Taliesin could feel the aether was different here. It was more ordered, less chaotic. He couldn¡¯t pin down why he could tell, it felt instinctive, similar to how one could feel like they were being watched when no one was visible on the street.

    Something had claimed this space. Not someone. That much, he knew with certainty. There was no intelligence in the presence that touched him¡ªno will, no curiosity, no malice. It simply was.

    The realization settled into him like a puzzle piece falling into place. It did not come from logic, nor from deduction. It came from recognition. The moment Taliesin understood the truth, the presence affirmed it. A quiet, undeniable confirmation.

    And the presence confirmed Taliesin¡¯s existence at the same time.

    From the unordered chaos around him, a tendril of aether formed and snaked towards Taliesin. He who could see nothing but aether could see this new ethereal creation reach out towards him, and could not dodge or avoid it. The magic spell touched him, and the sensation of pain radiated from his very soul.

    Taliesin screamed silently, for even if his jaw moved there was no air to carry the noise or to fill his lungs. The tendril jerked away and dissipated as if surprised.

    Then a new tendril formed, a larger, more menacing one. Taliesin instinctively cast a defensive spell. He shouted ¡°[Phantom Armor]¡± as he cast, and blind as he was could not see the end result other than the aether spellform that constructed the pieces of mystical armor around his body.

    The tentacle of alien aether reached out and probed the phantom armor around him, with a strength that soon shattered the spell. Taliesin braced himself for pain, but the strange magic vanished along with his own. Instead, he could feel the presence once more, only now he could feel its understanding like¡­.

    Once more, he had a clear comprehension that the presence was no rational being that could be spoken to. It was merely was¨Clike an enchantment with a given function. Now that being had seen and understood him, it accepted that Taliesin was in the Void.

    Two new spells formed, and Taliesin understood this was offered to all beings who entered the Void. He didn¡¯t understand either, at first, for they seemed to do nothing at all. Both were incredibly complex magic circles, beautifully constructed with neat modules of power and logic, with detailed logic gates, looping sigils and geometric shapes, all tying back to create a specific function.

    What that function was, Taliesin did not understand. But he had time, for the presence did not seem to care how long he took, and he had nowhere else to be. It was a nice change from recreating old spells from memory at least.

    The first, more complex puzzle spell was the one Taliesin chose to start with. Ironically, because it was complicated, it had more individual modules that were simpler to puzzle out. Taliesin was able to break them down piece by piece, and understand what their function was and why.

    The larger puzzle was a way for Taliesin to connect to the presence. If he was able to create the correct spell, and pour enough aether into it as to power his old Gate a thousand times over, the spell would share aether and information back to him at will. If he failed¡­ its powerful aether would destroy him. It seemed too good to be true - except for the fact that he could never come up with that kind of power, and if he did, he would die trying to use it. It would take... realization took hold and the presence confirmed it.

    This was the divine interface.

    Gods and goddesses interacted with the presence through this spell, and easily had that kind of aether to throw around, especially since it was less a cost than an exchange. The presence had no need of aether, it just needed a way to connect with the gods at a higher level.

    Taliesin turned his attention to the smaller, simpler spell. Now that he had figured out the harder puzzle, this one was child¡¯s play. It was a mortal interface, and required far less to cast. At first, he fed it aether, but that merely activated it. After awhile, the power bled out and into the Void, leaving the interface dormant once again.

    That left creating a spell circle of his own. Taliesin used the both puzzles as templates, and reverse engineered a new spellform. This was similar to the divination spells he¡¯d used in his old world to watch the inevitable tide of doom cross the planet. He shuddered at the memory, but continued anyway. What else did he have?

    A feeling of correctness confirmed it when the spell completed successfully, and the interface unlocked and powered on for him for the first time. Taliesin was suddenly rocked with a powerful vision, as his natural talent with divination activated.

    Powerful deities tore through the air. Entire pantheons clashed. They threw attacks at each other so powerful the grounds beneath them were shattered. Cataclysmic typhoons and tidal waves were swept across the land as fire and volcanoes blasted from the mountains.

    Below these warring gods, terrified humans huddled in their villages and towns, looking at the skies with fear. Dying gods fell around them as their cities burned. In other places, where battles had already come and gone, they were so devoid of life not even insects remained.

    Taliesin jerked from his vision to a feeling of recognition. He had accessed the Akashic Records, the universal collection of all human knowledge and belief in the world. What world amongst the endless multitudes he¡¯d discovered, he had no way of knowing, but Taliesin could at least hope, now, that his time in the Void had an end in sight.

    With this new comprehension of where he was and what he¡¯d discovered, Taliesin¡¯s experiments took on a strange turn. The interface wasn¡¯t helpful for direct knowledge, as it required a level of mastery of divination he simply did not have. Rather, he got much better results by returning to his practical spellcasting.

    To that end, when he cast a spell, he would know when it was correct or when he erred. The Akashic Records seemed to confirm accuracy when you were within them. Taliesin couldn¡¯t just absorb the knowledge by floating in it, nor could he understand where it came from. Rather, it confirmed information that he rationalized, and showed him he was correct when he demonstrated his spells, which were the only thing he could actually do in this Void. The interface spell seemed to be the only way to proactively seek information, and that was akin to trying to drink an ocean in one gulp.

    Did his old world have one of these records also? Was this what Balidar had wanted to consume in the end? Taliesin couldn¡¯t directly extract information from the Akashic Records; perhaps only the gods could draw from it directly. Yes, only the gods can draw from it directly, thought Taliesin after the Void confirmed his supposition. The constant distraction of confirmations makes it difficult to follow a train of thought.

    But if he couldn¡¯t query it, he could certainly use it to work on his spellforms. In fact, the existence of the Akashic Records and the ability of deities to interact with it to gain knowledge meant that it should be possible to figure out a way to do the same. Taliesin smiled inwardly when the Records confirmed his theory. With rising excitement, he knew he could create incredible spells here. First he would have to -

    ¡°How did you get here, little lost soul?¡±

    Taliesin startled at the sudden voice in his head. Where did that come from? Why now? Am I finally going mad?

    ¡°You¡¯re not mad, child. Come, let¡¯s fish you out now.¡±

    Strangely, at some level Taliesin was mildly annoyed at the interruption.

 Chapter 2 - Fate

    ¡°To each man shall his own free actions bring both his suffering and his good fortune. Zeus is inevitably king over all alike. The Fates will find the way.¡±

    - Virgil, The Aeneid

    <hr>

    Like he had never stopped, Taliesin could breathe once more. He could see, although the light was bright to his eyes. A strange villa floated in the middle of the Void, in the hellenic style common around the Aegean Sea. Taliesin was floated into it, only to find it larger inside than it appeared from without, and a view of real cosmos through its unshuttered windows.

    Unfortunately, the pain from his injuries returned with all the normal sensations of life. How long was I trapped in the Void? Taliesin had no way of knowing. He coughed blood and collapsed to the floor.

    ¡°That won¡¯t do,¡± chided a gentle voice. Taliesin looked up to see an attractive young woman standing over him with one hand on her hip and the other holding a spinning distaff. Her hair was unbound, her clothes chaste. She tutted at him, then she lifted him easily. They moved without moving, then Taliesin collapsed into a cot. His bleeding stopped and the pain subsided. Did she heal me?

    ¡°What¡¯ve you found, Clotho?¡± came the voice of a middle-aged woman. She walked in with a measuring tape and a motherly expression on her face.

    ¡°I went to collect some Chaos so that I could spin new threads. I found this one swimming in the Void, playing with the Akashic Records.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not supposed to do that. Wait, he¡¯s not one of ours,¡± said the woman. ¡°Nor does he smell of either desert magics or Kemetic gods.¡±

    ¡°A northman, perhaps? He has the coloration for it,¡± said Clotho.

    ¡°But he¡¯d smell of the Aesir if that were so. He lives outside of prophecy.¡±

    ¡°Strange, as he is gifted with its telling,¡± came an old voice.

    An old crone of a woman appeared then, a pair of terrible sewing shears in one hand. She glared at Taliesin with a look that penetrated his whole life. She had seen his past, in all its glories and failures. There was no judgment, but there was finality. Taliesin shivered under her eternal gaze.

    ¡°His thread is uncut, despite living past its measure. He outlived his family, his people, and his realm. Cutting his thread would be a mercy.¡± Despite her severe look, her words were dispassionate without being cruel.

    Taliesin found his voice and managed to sit up. Whatever Clotho had done to soothe his injuries had granted him some strength. He had stood up against Balidar the Destroyer at the height of his power. Taliesin damned sure wouldn¡¯t die laying in bed because an old woman threatened him with scissors.

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll find I don¡¯t die so easily,¡± Taliesin said as he gained his feet. He drew on his power and prepared to weave a spellform.

    ¡°Oh, look, Lachesis! He¡¯s a magoi!¡± Clotho clapped prettily, her face split in a wide smile. She looked entirely unthreatened despite having seen him draw aether into a spell.

    ¡°A bold one,¡± said Atropos, the crone. ¡°What do you hope to accomplish here, boy?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I really don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know where I am, or what this place is.¡± Taliesin faltered, letting the spellform lapse. ¡°What is this place? What happened to my people?¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a place for mortals, little soul,¡± said Clotho with an innocent, sympathetic look. ¡°You were in the Void between realms when I pulled you out. You are not of our realm, are you?¡±

    ¡°Are you some kind of goddesses? Who are you to determine my future?¡±

    ¡°We are Fate, boy,¡± said the old Crone. ¡°One to spin the thread, one to grant it full measure, the last to cut it in the end. We are the Norns to the northmen and the Shai to the Aegyptians. We are beyond mortals and gods. I¡¯ll grant you the small mercy to know that your people defied their fates as well, and have found new life in that realm you found. Balidar was unable to eat your world¡¯s spirit because of it, and thus grew weaker for all his efforts. Now. You have had your measure of life. You may not be one of ours, nor in our Book, but your time is past.¡±

    Taliesin was relieved with the knowledge that his duty had been successfully discharged. At the same time, he was unwilling to let go of life so easily. He¡¯d expected to die - even welcomed it - as a fair price to pay to protect his people. Even so, Taliesin refused to die without a fight when Balidar stood before him. He would do no different now.

    He could see a spindle of aether pull into reality before Atropos. It took only seconds to recognize it as somehow being intrinsically related to Taliesin¡¯s own existence. The Akashic Records still surrounded this place and confirmed his theory. The geometric spellforms that were interwoven through this thread of being had a complexity so far beyond what he had been studying that it was as if he¡¯d learned nothing at all. It made sense that a life, a soul, would be so much¡­ more. Then she turned her terrible shears towards that thread, and he jerked from his reverie.

    ¡°No, you old crone, you have no power over me,¡± Taliesin said with all the strength his voice could muster. He couldn¡¯t do anything with the thread of his fate, but he didn¡¯t want to either. He needed to protect it, not tamper with it. The shears, on the other hand, were a different proposition. Taliesin could see magic activating along it, drawn from a well of divine power that he could no more affect than he could extinguish the sun. Instead, Taliesin reached out with a thread of his own spellforms. His weave interacted with the scissors, disrupting them and turning the power back upon their owner.

    A split second later, the shears exploded in a spectacular display of arcane chaos. It sent the old crone stumbling back in astonishment. She was startled but otherwise utterly unharmed despite the raw power he¡¯d unwoven. The thread of his fate faded away.

    ¡°Oh, such a lovely show! Well done!¡± Clotho cheered Taliesin on. ¡°I like you!¡±

    ¡°That was a nice try, boy,¡± said Atropos. Whole once again, her shears were back in hand. ¡°The most powerful of gods cannot deny us. What makes you think you can?¡±

    Taliesin ignored her. He had already learned from her first attack, and better understood the shears now. They were an artifact of the End, but they could not be only the stuff of unmaking, or she¡¯d be unable to wield them. Taliesin felt that he had their measure now. He reached out with a new spell. The scissors of Atropos began to disintegrate in her hands.

    Lachesis sighed and waved a hand. His spellform fell apart. It didn¡¯t matter. He had witnessed the divine bit of magic that Lachesis had performed. Taliesin knew he would need to see it again to be able to replicate it, and he would also need a well of power far beyond his own. Nevertheless, he had gained a few useful insights.

    ¡°He keeps learning! Oh, I do love an underdog!¡± said Clotho. In anyone else, Taliesin would think her heartless in her desire for entertainment. Her natural innocence belied that assessment. She was genuinely happy that Taliesin was doing well, and had the thrill of first experiences in everything she witnessed. Taliesin thought it was most disconcerting from someone such as she. I would say she is ageless, but timeless may be a more apt description.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Atropos, that¡¯s enough. Let¡¯s discuss this, before we¡¯re forced to bring our full might to bear.¡±

    ¡°I don''t care what you have to say,¡± Taliesin interjected. ¡°I¡¯ll not go peacefully. I stood against Balidar the Destroyer alone, I¡¯ll stand against you as well.¡±

    The crone grumbled. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, your thread must be cut.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s very true!¡± said Clotho happily. ¡°Everyone¡¯s thread is cut eventually!¡±

    ¡°While you are correct, it need not be cut right now,¡± said Lachesis reasonably. ¡°He¡¯s not even in our Book of Fate. We have some leeway.¡±

    ¡°What are you proposing?¡± asked Atropos suspiciously. Of all the tripartite deities, Taliesin realized she must face the most opposition to their work, if she was in charge of cutting short the lives of her worshippers.

    ¡°Oh! He stands outside of prophecy!¡± said Clotho with sudden realization. In an admiring voice she said, ¡°Lachesis, you¡¯re so clever.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    Lachesis held out a hand, and the thread of my destiny appeared in her hands. ¡°Should the magoi agree, I can give him a full measure and we can drop him in the world.¡±

    ¡°Wait, agree to what?¡± Taliesin asked, a new spell already forming at his fingertips. A wild hope flared, but he quashed it. There was still danger here, if only of a different sort.

    ¡°We have no way of knowing what will happen to the Tapestry should he interfere,¡± said Atropos.

    ¡°If we do nothing, what happens when all the threads are cut?¡± asked Lachesis. ¡°You know this is what will happen. The pantheons are marching to war. Already myrmidons and valkyries have skirmished. I¡¯ve no doubt that Amun-Ra is ready to pounce. When the gods clash directly, their rage towards each other will scour the Earth.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, doing this could add chaos to the Tapestry. Perhaps enough?¡± said Atropos. Suddenly, she laughed - a cackling laugh that transformed her countenance into a grandmotherly presence. ¡°Oh, I can just see the faces of those shortsighted, stick-in-the-mud gods if their petty games get ruined.¡±

    Lachesis turned to Taliesin. ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°Wait, what do you want from me?¡± asked Taliesin, his suspicion growing now that the old crone seemed amused and decidedly not hostile.

    Atropos looked at the thread, which had already begun to glow a golden hue. ¡°It seems the decision is made.¡±

    Taliesin hadn¡¯t agreed to anything, but Atropos¡¯ shears vanished. Lachesis gave a proud smile as if her favorite child had performed well at their lessons. She patted his head before wandering away, vanishing into the Chaos of this strange place.

    ¡°What? I didn¡¯t agree to anything!¡± Taliesin said, defiant to the end. Atropos gave him one last appraising look before vanishing, a fresh laugh hanging in the air behind her.

    Clotho looked at him appraisingly. ¡°Hmm¡­ You¡¯d fare poorly under the strictures of Zeus and his ilk. The north will face cold, while the Kemetic Gods will use drought and famine. So, hot or cold?¡±

    Taliesin shuddered at the memories of a world in flames. ¡°Not heat. Wait, what is happening?¡±

    Clotho changed before his eyes, shifting in appearance to that of a different young woman. She had a nordic look to her, with intricately braided blonde hair and a different style of dress. Taliesin understood without words that she was now Skuld, the Maiden. They had shifted pantheons, although the significance of it was lost to him. It was reality shifting underneath his feet, and Taliesin could only accept this different aspect of the deity of Fate.

    ¡°We¡¯re sending you to our realm,¡± said Skuld, formerly Clotho. ¡°You refused to fall under Balidar¡¯s blade, and fought Atropos¡¯ attempt to end your fate. Your very survival meant agreement.¡±

    ¡°So what did I agree to?¡± Taliesin strongly disliked the tricky manner in which the Fates thought and acted. This smelled of deception, but he was hardly in a position to argue. It seemed they were about to release him into a new realm.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving you in a place where you have the opportunity to help. A grand Pantheonic War will soon overtake the world. Perhaps you can bring enough people together to shelter against the storm,¡± said Skuld serenely.

    She was describing another global genocide. Taliesin had just fought against one and lost. Am I doomed to repeat the pattern, time and again? He could always build a new Gate, but he couldn¡¯t guarantee he would luck into finding a suitable realm in time. Then came the demands of convincing people to abandon their lives and homes to flee to an untamed world. Taliesin had the benefit of Duke Arthur¡¯s natural charisma and immense political power to do the hard work of politicking before. People rarely did the logical thing when faced with the emotional trauma of losing their homes and way of life. Even with Duke Arthur¡¯s ardent support, they lost many precious months after the Gate was ready before people were willing to accept the end was nigh and begin migrating en masse.

    ¡°So you expect me to be what, some sort of chosen one?¡± Taliesin asked. He was reluctant to dance to the tunes of these strange gods. ¡°I won¡¯t knuckle under your command.¡±

    That elicited another peal of laughter from the ever-youthful deity. ¡°I know! It¡¯s delightful! Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re no Chosen One. Those are creatures of prophecy, doomed to follow a specific path from birth to death. You stand outside of prophecy, unseen and thus unpredicted.¡±

    The world around him began to change. The strange, mist-like building Taliesin had met the three deities vanished behind him. Soon they were flying through a vast emptiness. It was unlike the void, for he could see and feel without issue. They were surrounded by trillions of stars, and moving far too swiftly to match any physical laws of reality. It seemed to him that they were heading to a specific destination, turning so that a new sight dominated their line of travel. A vast ball of flame was in the distance, with tiny orbs flowing around it. Was that¡­ was that a sun as seen from a much closer distance? It was much larger than I¡¯d imagined, thought Taliesin. He could see immense amounts of aether flowing from within.

    ¡°I never gave much thought to the stars,¡± Taliesin said with a new sense of wonder. Once more he wished for a journal to log his observations. ¡°It seems Aristarchus must have been right! The world does revolve around the sun!¡±

    ¡°It depends on the realm,¡± said Skuld. ¡°Some have no planets at all, just vast disks in a tiny bubble of reality, with day and night happening as part of their reality rather than relying on physics and natural phenomena. This world is not one of them. The sun generates vast power, converting gasses into other matter and energy, and turning some of that energy into aether.¡±

    ¡°That must be a thousand thousand miles from the world!¡± Taliesin marveled.

    Skuld gave a youthful laugh that was somehow fiercer than the laugh of the innocent Clotho aspect. ¡°Try ninety three thousand thousands!¡±

    ¡°That is a most impressive distance,¡± he said, making a mental note of it.

    Taliesin could see raw aether diffused through space, flowing away from the sun. Yet what intrigued him was the nigh endless energy. He would need to ponder that. For now, they approached an orb of blue and brown. It was the world he would soon call home and it was round. Just as the natural philosophers said!

    Seconds later, they were hovering over the ground. Taliesin looked down to see that he was fully restored in body and aether. He was unclothed, but modesty was overcome swiftly by shock. My youth is restored to me! He was young and muscled like he¡¯d never been before, even in the prime of life. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was a blond color so light that it was almost white. It was definitely not the dark brown of his youth. He looked up in amazement.

    ¡°Verdandi gave you a full measure of life,¡± said Skuld matter of factly, referring to the Mother aspect he¡¯d seen as Lachesis. ¡°Spend it wisely.¡±

    A tendril of magic reached out to him from the goddess. Taliesin examined it as it approached. It offered him power, in return for a piece of his¡­ not his soul. Perhaps my aether? No, my ability to recover my power. He refused. He would not sacrifice a piece of his self for anyone. The connection attempt became more insistent.

    ¡°You are Unforged in the Book of Fate. Accept the connection, Taliesin, and reap the rewards of your First Forging. You will not be disappointed.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll not let your strange magic control me, either. I saw the end results of bargains for power, and I¡¯ll not be a puppet to anyone.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t confuse us for that weak god eater from your home realm. Deny this power at your own peril.¡± Skuld¡¯s voice sounded simultaneously of Maiden, Mother and Crone as one. Taliesin could feel the full weight of destiny bearing down on his shoulders in that instant. It was a burden ill suited for a mortal, but he was afforded a minute glimpse into the endless eternities that was the domain of the tripartite goddesses.

    Taliesin felt anger rise up, but he smothered it. Rage would do him no favors. ¡°I¡¯ve relied on my own wit and power my entire life. I¡¯ll not change it now.¡±

    ¡°That weak realm with neutered deities you were born into is no comparison to what you will face,¡± said Skuld, her voice once more her own. ¡°Accept this boon.¡±

    Once more the connection tried to reach him. Taliesin cut it off again.

    ¡°You have thrice defied your fate,¡± intoned Skuld, the innocent voice of the Maiden layered over with that of the Mother and of the Crone, heavy with power. ¡°You avoided death in your own realm, denied the Crone her due, and refused entry into the Book of Fate. So be it. We will watch you with great interest, as we watch all threads. We shall not speak again.¡±

    Then the goddess was gone, and Taliesin fell from the sky.

 Chapter 3 - The Rescue (Part 1)

    ¡°He had a quiet dignity, unfailingly polite but I swear there was mischief in his eyes.¡±

    -Jarl Arnulf Swifthand

    <hr>

    Taliesin plummeted from a distance of about five feet off the ground, piercing through the veil back into reality as he did so. He could see the ripples of aether shudder away from him in a riot of Chaos and broken affinities. If he hadn¡¯t landed on his side, bare-assed and already shivering from the cold morning air, he¡¯d have been concerned about how obvious his entrance was to this realm. That sort of disturbance could only draw attention.

    A forest surrounded Taliesin, with tall, old-growth pine and fir trees that he couldn¡¯t reach his arms around. A dusting of snow was on the ground, which he noticed most acutely with his bare buttocks, but otherwise he couldn¡¯t see any animals around. That made sense, as Taliesin was on a road of some sort, wide enough to see regular travel. That would scare off any wild game that might inhabit the woods nearby.

    Then Taliesin heard the soft scuff of metal against leather, and the whinny of a horse. His heart hammered in surprise as he turned around. A carriage was stopped on the road, surrounded by bandits and down to a single lone defender in plate armor and a horned helmet. No one was fighting. They were all staring at him.

    Sometimes Taliesin hated being right.

    The ground was littered with the dead and the dying. Most of them were defenders, but at least as many brigands were lying dead as were still standing. What sort of rogues would fight so desperately? Taliesin had always understood the criminal sort to be rather cowardly. They should have fled at the first sign of stiff resistance.

    ¡°Well, not that anyone asked my opinion on the matter, but I particularly hate bandits and brigands,¡± Taliesin said, standing with as much dignity as a naked man could muster. He brushed the snow and tiny bits of detritus from his backside, then casually pointed at one of the armed attackers. ¡°{Lightning Strike}.¡±

    Taliesin accidentally cast the spell in the same manner he always had, and immediately winced. It took an inordinate amount of power, and he could see the dozens of inefficiencies in his casting. Worse, his aether pool was far smaller than he was accustomed to and he had no alternative power source.

    The bandit fell with a hole in his shoulder. He twitched on the ground as the electricity worked its way through his system, burning him from the inside out. Taliesin doubted he would rise again. The armored figure standing before the door to the carriage did not waste the distraction. A sudden strike of the sword pierced the throat of another assailant, before swinging at another foe.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Taliesin mumbled to himself. ¡°Let¡¯s try that again. [Lightning Strike].¡±

    This time he cast it correctly, using the neatly woven spellform he¡¯d worked out while in the void. The spell was far less costly this time, and burned through two brigands at once.

    ¡°Kill the magus! Kill the magus!¡± came a cry from one of the attackers. Taliesin frowned. That¡¯s not helpful.

    ¡°[Phantom Armor]¡± he cast, but not before an arrow sliced across his left arm and buried into the ground behind him. ¡°Ow! Son of a¡­¡±

    Taliesin ignored the injury as his spell enveloped him in a translucent layer of hard light in the shape of armor. Then he winced, not because of the pain, but because his power reserves had dipped terribly. Taliesin was barely into the fight, and nearly useless already. All his knowledge and years of experience, trumped by a lack of preparation and bad timing. He resolved to fix that as swiftly as possible. A man with a sword charged at him. If I live, he corrected himself.

    ¡°[Shock Touch]¡± he intoned. With a practiced sidestep, Taliesin dodged the incoming blow and touched the back of the bandit¡¯s head. He was delighted that his agility had returned along with his youth. The man dropped like a marionette that had its strings cut. Taliesin picked up the bandit¡¯s sword and awkwardly stabbed him in the neck before the stun wore off. He succeeded in striking something important, based on the gush of blood, but the blade slipped from Taliesin¡¯s hand as he did so. He left it where it fell, unwilling to risk his own fingers on an unsuitable tool.

    Taliesin¡¯s attacks had divided the brigands¡¯ attention, which helped the armored warrior get an upper hand. A surprisingly pleasant alto voice rang out. <Smite>!¡±

    The flavor of the magic that burst out felt strange to Taliesin, but he had no time to puzzle it out. A bolt of energy rang down from the heavens, blasting another brigand and shocking the ones nearby. Taliesin saw the aether-wrapped bolt of divine power and shook his head in disbelief. He¡¯d never wielded that much power, even with the Orb of Eternity. Such was the might of gods, yet he¡¯d had the nerve to defy the ones that even gods feared. Taliesin was struck by his own audacity, and more than a little pleased with himself.

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    There were only three bandits left. One of them wielded a crossbow and stood back from the fray, while the last two were engaged in a desperate bid to stay alive now that the tables had turned.

    Taliesin turned to look at the one with the crossbow. For a moment, they locked eyes. The man turned to flee. ¡°[Lightning Strike].¡±

    The fleeing brigand fell with a hole in his chest. Taliesin was nearly out of power.

    The defending paladin struck the head from the shoulders of the leftmost bandit, leaving only one. This one suddenly glowed with a corrupted red aura. ¡°<Stoneskin>!¡±

    In a flash of power, the man¡¯s skin took a mottled gray color and noticeably thickened. He shoved the knight back and whirled around, his eyes crazy with panic and unbound energy. The knight smashed into the side of the carriage and lost her balance, leaving her off guard and vulnerable. Fortunately for her the brigand bounded from the carriage, determined to flee. Unfortunately for Taliesin, the man fled straight for him.

    ¡°Watch out! The fool overboosted his Forging!¡± shouted the paladin.

    ¡°[Lightning Strike]¡± said Taliesin. The bolt of electricity leapt forward and struck the man with no effect. Instead, the electricity skittered across the brigand¡¯s body and down into the ground. ¡°Shit.¡±

    Now the bandit was nearly upon him, sword raised overhead to strike Taliesin down on his way by. The man¡¯s speed and mania meant that Taliesin had little chance to dodge. In desperation, he cast the only spellform he had the energy left to cast.

    ¡°[Minor Portal].¡±

    A gaping hole opened up in the road just where the bandit was about to step. With a cry of surprise, the man fell into the hole and vanished.

    With a breath of relief, Taliesin walked gingerly around the portal in the road. He crossed his hands before him, acutely aware that his Phantom Armor did nothing at all for his dignity.

    ¡°Pardon me,¡± he said politely to the astonished paladin. ¡°May I trouble you for a cloak?¡±

    The woman bent over and unclasped a cloak from one of the dead bandits and tossed it to him. Gratefully, he whipped it around his shoulders and re-clasped it. The baggy cloak covered him sufficiently for the moment. Then behind him, a wild scream could be heard in the distance. It grew louder and louder. The knight readied her sword against the new threat, but Taliesin moved over to the brigands, holding his feet against theirs to compare sizes.

    ¡°Surprisingly good quality clothing for knaves,¡± he commented as he found a pair of stout boots that would fit. He tugged them off as the final brigand plummeted from the sky and vanished into the portal in the road once more. The scream cut off in an instant, only to start again in the distance above them.

    The knight continued to stare at him in shock for a moment. ¡°Is he going to keep falling forever?¡±

    ¡°Oh, certainly not.¡± Taliesin looked up from where he was stamping on the boots. ¡°Are you aware that golden eagles often hunt turtles? It¡¯s an odd fact, because the turtle just has to hide in its shell to avoid the bird¡¯s claws. Do you have a guess as to how the eagle solves this problem?¡± He gave the paladin a vicious grin. ¡°You need not worry. The spell will end on its own soon.¡±

    The screams grew louder and the bandit fell through the road once again.

    The knight shook her head at the madness of the moment before crying out. ¡°The wounded!¡± She turned to the carriage. ¡°Milady, the brigands are defeated. Can Gunther help attend to the injured?¡±

    ¡°We shall come assist,¡± came a voice from inside. ¡°Who are you talking to? And what is that gods-awful screaming?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ we¡¯ve had some assistance from an¡­ unexpected quarter,¡± said the paladin as the carriage door opened. A middle-aged woman wearing men¡¯s tunic and trousers and a thick fur-lined cloak stepped from the vehicle. Taliesin kept wandering the defeated brigands, looking for clothes. Unfortunately, most of the clothes were bloodied, dirty and torn from the battle.

    ¡°Is¡­. is he naked?!¡± sputtered the woman. Just then the brigand fell from the sky and went through the portal once more. At once she nodded in understanding. ¡°He must be an archmage.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m starting to suspect so, yes,¡± said the paladin. She was already kneeling next to an injured defender. ¡°This one is still alive, milady.¡±

    ¡°Gunther! Come assist us, please,¡± commanded the Lady as she ran over to help, heedless of the mud staining her cloak. She pressed down tightly on a wound.

    A young man, thin of frame and appearing to have a weak constitution clambered down from the carriage. His clothes were sturdy and his cloak was white. He rushed over to the Lady and knelt down, his arm already glowing white from the elbow down. ¡°<Heal>.¡±

    ¡°Milord, if there is any magical assistance you can render to aid my allies, I would be most grateful,¡± said the paladin.

    Taliesin looked up, and realized his energies were restoring far swifter than he¡¯d expected. Did this world have more ambient aether than his last one? He felt a fool for worrying about clothes when some of the defenders might still be saved. He had spent too much time in his own head while in that Void.

    He had a scant few minor healing skills that might stabilize injuries, at least until he ran out of aether again. Taliesin might help one or two, at least. ¡°I can certainly try, but I am low on aether. Point me towards those that can be stabilized while you focus on the worst injuries.¡±

    Behind them, the portal suddenly winked out. The brigand slammed into the road at a fearful speed. His blood splattered across a wide area and the knight winced. Taliesin ignored the newly dead bandit and instead set to work assisting where he could.

 Chapter 4 - The Rescue (Part 2)

    It took around thirty minutes to save those who could be saved. Taliesin had been able to cast just enough healing to stabilize two guards, while Gunther healed another four. At that point, he did something with the gem-studded leather bracer on his right arm. One of the two guards that Taliesin had cast his spells upon was faring poorly from some injury Taliesin¡¯s limited skills had failed to find. Gunther used his healing ability once more, only this time the glow was laced with black lines.

    ¡°That¡¯s it. I cannot cast again without risking burnout. They will survive or die at the whims of Fate now,¡± said the young man, his face drawn and tired. He cradled his arm as he looked over at Taliesin, who had been bandaging a minor cut on the arm of a guard. None of the six who had been saved were in good condition, although those who had Gunther¡¯s ministrations were noticeably better off. ¡°May I ask your name, stranger, and offer you a pair of pants?¡±

    ¡°I am Taliesin, and I would gladly accept that offer. It is a bit chilly.¡±

    Before Gunther could go find clothes for Taliesin, the paladin walked over then with a bundle of clothes and thrust them at him. ¡°Here. These were Hanef¡¯s, and he was about your size.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Taliesin and immediately began to pull on the clothes with no attempt at modesty. The woman huffed and spun on her heels before stomping away. Taliesin found the trousers tighter than he was accustomed to, and the buttoned blouse was cut strange to his tastes. He left the top third of the buttons undone so that the fabric wouldn¡¯t pull as tightly against his shoulders, before puzzling out the strange assortment of belts that went around the waist.

    Gunther looked amused. ¡°Please forgive Katla. She doesn¡¯t show it but she has a kind heart. No one gains a Forging without the blessings of the gods, but Holy Forgings require something¡­more. As a warpriest, she¡¯s seen more conflicts and tragedies than most.¡±

    Taliesin gave up on figuring out the strange belt. Instead he wrapped the longest one thrice around the waist before tossing the others to the side. He¡¯d figure out the local fashions later.

    ¡°Not to interrupt,¡± said the middle-aged woman, ¡°but may I ask who you are and how you got here?¡±

    Taliesin introduced himself once again, and said ¡°I had a bit of a¡­ mishap¡­ with some portal magic. A few things happened and I wound up appearing here without my¡­ well, anything at all. I¡¯m afraid this entire realm is quite new to me.¡±

    Gunther and the Lady shared a long look, before she introduced herself. Her eyes flitted down to where his blouse gaped open above his belt, leaving a fair bit of his muscular chest uncovered. ¡°I¡¯m Lady Hofstad of the Hofstad noble house in Buverik, but you may call me Solveig. Gunther is my son and the heir to my House. Are you truly an archmage, or just a simple magus?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve no understanding of these titles. Perhaps you could explain further, and I can clarify.¡±

    ¡°A magus is someone with a knack for minor magics, and able to enchant equipment. Most are thralls to noble houses and spend their days renewing protective wards and such. An archmage, on the other hand¡­. They have real power.¡±

    ¡°Ah well, by your definition, I¡¯m far more likely to be an archmage than a magus. Although I will admit, I would need to re-create some of my vestments as soon as possible.¡±

    Taliesin frowned to himself as he considered his aether problem. He needed a better source more than anything else. He¡¯d never been a natural powerhouse, relying more on depth of knowledge and efficiency rather than a deep pool of power. Instead, he¡¯d found or created artifacts that could help him overcome this weakness.

    ¡°Then perhaps we could assist each other,¡± said Solveig. ¡°We could use extra protection in returning to our town, and you could use some understanding of the world you¡¯re in. Once we return to my home, you can meet with the Jarl and see if further partnerships can be had.¡±

    ¡°That is a fair offer,¡± replied Taliesin. ¡°I¡¯m in quite the need of information, and could stand to make some new friends. Tell me, are the roads normally so dangerous?¡±

    Solveig gave a sigh, her eyes flitting to his torso once again. ¡°In more peaceful times, the roads were reasonably safe. At least, secure enough for trade caravans to go between towns. Of course, local travel was fine. Anywhere within the patrol ranges of the closest settlements. But the Twilight of the Gods is upon us, if the Oracles are to be believed. The death of Loki at the hands of Hercules broke the peace, but it was the death of Hercules and his wife Sehkmet by Vali¡¯s blade that guaranteed the war. The Kemetic gods of Aegypt blame both sides equally for Sehkmet¡¯s death, and Bast in particular is enraged over the death of her beloved sister. You do not want to anger a war goddess that old and powerful. Even Amun-Ra must listen when one such as she speaks.¡±

    ¡°But such fights are held in the heavens, are they not?¡± asked Taliesin. His experience with his own religion left him ill-equipped. He had not been particularly devout, but the only religion was that of Jesu Invictus, Holy Mother Asherah and Father Jehovah the Peaceful. Three deities to guide humanity through the Challenges of Faith, the Rigors of Life, and the Copper Gate to the Infinite Heavens.

    Gunther looked at him oddly. ¡°That is the most convincing statement I¡¯ve yet heard to prove you fell from another realm rather than just teleported strangely within this one. Each of the pantheons have their strongholds. The Kemetic gods have Duat and the Divine Realm of Maat. Zeus fortifies Mount Olympus with his myrmidons while Hades gathers her forces in Tartarus. Blessed Freya protects us from Folkvangr with her valkyries while Odin has his einherjar preparing in Asgard. As long as a balance of power holds, the Twilight shall be a proxy fight. The foul Olympian Boreas has unleashed his minions against us as part of that war so now the gnolls and their ilk plague the roads.¡±

    ¡°More and more raid us every day. I even heard that a yeti joined in the sacking of Kjaransvik,¡± interjected Solveig.

    ¡°Milady, milords, the carriage has been loaded with the wounded, and our dead laid straight with all honors along the road. We¡¯ve salvaged what we could. It would be best if we moved swiftly. Dark will be upon us and we would be best behind stout walls before then.¡±

    Taliesin turned to see Katla walking over, with her helmet tucked under her arm. He stood shocked as he realized that the horns he¡¯d seen on her helmet earlier were actually protruding from her forehead. The two horns began just above her eyebrows, curving slightly back to follow the curve of the skull before extending straight over her dark hair. The horns were white with a gold filigree design extending organically all the way to the tip. The horns blended smoothly into her dark red skin and clear golden eyes. He¡¯d never seen a being like this before.

    ¡°What? Do I have something on my face?¡± asked Katla.

    ¡°No, no, my apologies for staring,¡± said Taliesin.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get going,¡± said Solveig as she climbed into the carriage. ¡°Um, this is going to be tight.¡±

    Taliesin followed Gunther into the carriage to find that three guards were piled onto one bench, leaving the other free for him to share with Solveig and Gunther. The fourth had taken the reins of the carriage with Katla seated next to him. He wedged himself between the carriage wall and Gunther and pulled the door shut. Solveig slapped twice on the carriage and they began to move.

    Gunther whispered to Taliesin, ¡°You must not have met anyone with a Holy Forging before. Katla is well along her path. One of the benefits of a Holy Concept is that it removes minor imperfections and scars, which naturally makes them more attractive. She didn¡¯t seem upset about you staring this time, but be careful in the future.¡±

    ¡°What? Oh, right, um, that wasn¡¯t what drew my attention!¡± Taliesin was surprised. Whatever manner of creature Katla was, it was so normal that Gunther had assumed it was beauty that drew Taliesin¡¯s attention, not the ivory horns and red skin.

    ¡°Then what were you looking at? She really didn¡¯t have anything on her face.¡±

    ¡°The horns and the very red skin! I¡¯ve never seen someone like that. Can I ask what manner of being she is?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never seen an emberling before?!¡± said Gunther, his voice just loud enough to make Solveig raise an eyebrow.

    ¡°Umm, no? What is an emberling?¡±

    ¡°Only one of the most basic forms granted from an Elemental Forging?¡±

    ¡°You need to back up a bit. What is a ¡®Forging¡¯ and what does that have to do with anything?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know about Forgings either?¡± Gunther was aghast at the notion.

    Solveig shook her head. ¡°Gunther, you¡¯re not helping. Taliesin, in this realm, about one in ten get a gift from the gods called a Forging. This is a passive boon of some variety. Of those who gain a First Forging, maybe another one in ten of those could gain a Second Forging.¡±

    ¡°And this second Forging also has a passive boon?¡±

    ¡°It does not,¡± she said with a smile. ¡°But the combination of the two allows for an active ability. For example, Gunther here can Heal, while Katla can Smite.¡±

    ¡°I see. So what does that have to do with emberlings?¡±

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    ¡°There are two types of Forgings, excluding Holy, which is both types. The first is a ¡®Concept¡¯ Forging - Endurance, Strength, Nature and Motion. The second is the ¡®Elemental¡¯ Forging - Earth, Sea, Sky and Flame. The first Forging you go through changes you physically in some ways. When it is an Elemental Forging, you gain some of the physical features of elementals. Katla¡¯s First Forging was Flame, so she¡¯s an emberling.¡±

    Taliesin pondered this. It was a new form of human, but still human. Even if Katla was changed from her birth, she was still born of two human parents. ¡°I assume her children, should she have them, would look as she had before the magic of the Forging changed her?¡±

    Gunther laughed. ¡°You¡¯re a sharp one. That¡¯s always the first question, and most everyone guesses incorrectly. Forgings and the effects are granted by the gods, not by lineage. However, the type of a Forging granted can be influenced by parentage, if the gods see fit to grant one. My grandfather, the Jarl, has a Nature Forging which allows, in most people anyway, a more natural gift with woodcraft. They make fantastic farmers or hunters, and blend into their environment most easily. As a noble, it allows the Jarl to more naturally command his armsmen and retinue. For me, this made it easier for Nature to be my first Forging. Upon being granted a Holy Forging as my Second, I was then able to Heal.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± said Taliesin, totally taken with this unique use of aether. In many ways it was a diffusion of power across a population. Depending on what abilities a second Forging could develop, this would create an entire elite class of humans who had special skills. He¡¯d seen the effect of Katla¡¯s Smite on the brigands. A full squad of soldiers so armed? An entire company? Taliesin could easily see how that could become a force multiplier. ¡°Are there higher levels of Forging?¡±

    ¡°Oh most certainly,¡± replied Gunther. ¡°Third Forgings are rare, but not unknown, and rumor has it that a Fourth Forging is possible.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s interesting. So at Second Forging, if you combine all the different types, there are twenty-five common varieties. So at Third Forging, there are one hundred twenty five, and at Fourth there are six hundred twenty five. Are all combinations unique?¡±

    Gunther gave a pleasant laugh. ¡°That is the working theory. However, you are glossing over both ¡®depth¡¯ and ¡®boost¡¯. The deeper you understand your Concept or Element, the stronger you become. Katla has very strong emberling characteristics, for example, which indicates she has a Deep Understanding of her Flame Forging. Her enhanced beauty and gold and white horns indicate a Holy Concept that may not be as Deep. With a Flame Forging, she can think faster. Her critical thinking and comprehension are boosted. This is a much respected aspect of warpriests like her, who are much sought out as advisors and generals.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating. So Depth is really an indication of power and control of that particular type, either Concept or Element? So by extrapolation, a Deep First Forge could be stronger than a newly minted Second Forge?¡±

    ¡°Theoretically, although as the First Forging is typically a passive change, Depth is usually achieved through age rather than active contemplation. The difference is most often seen between two individuals at the Second Forging. The newly-minted are at a disadvantage to the veterans who¡¯ve had practice and meditation to strengthen them.¡±

    ¡°Such is the truth of all young men and women coming into their own,¡± said Taliesin. ¡°They are but babes when placed alongside masters of a craft. I¡¯ve yet to see an enthusiastic young soldier able to best a wily veteran, all else being equal.¡±

    ¡°Wise words for someone so young,¡± said Solveig.

    He looked down at his own youthful torso, before looking back up. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not nearly so young as I now appear.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, is that so? Then tell me of your realm, Taliesin,¡± asked Solveig. ¡°Is it pleasant there?¡±

    Taliesin frowned, expecting the sharp pain of loss. Instead he found a scar healed over. He¡¯d spent a lot of time in his own head, and many past sorrows had been laid to rest far more effectively than he¡¯d realized. ¡°My world was beautiful once, yes, before its destruction. The realm my people now occupy is a wild land ripe with opportunity. Sadly, my path has diverged and I will never be able to rejoin them.¡±

    Solveig looked confused by Taliesin¡¯s words, for there were many layers underpinning the words he spoke. Before she could respond, he spoke again.

    ¡°I¡¯ll not burden you with my sorrowful tale. Rather, I¡¯m excited to embrace this new realm and experience all it has to offer. It is a fresh chance to perhaps accomplish what I was unable to do before.¡±

    Taliesin¡¯s words were cheerful and optimistic, but once more there were layers hidden in what he said. Solveig nodded and decided to go along with his positivity.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m certain we would be glad to help you on this journey of¡­ learning?¡±

    ¡°And I will certainly be glad of the companionship,¡± he said as he glanced at her meaningfully.

    Gunther cleared his throat. ¡°Um, yes, well, Mother, we¡¯ll be reaching town soon. I¡¯m sure we can regale Taliesin with tales once we arrive.¡±

    <hr>

    The village was small with a stout palisade constructed in a circle around it. Taliesin had seen many such hamlets in his years of scrying upon the enemy, and this one was better off than most. The homes within were tightly packed along the palisade, with a few narrow platforms at key defensive points that allowed defenders to peer over the walls. Inside, there was a large open area in the center. In normal times, this would be a natural market and gathering place. Farmers would bring carts of food in while craftsmen would trade away their wares. Come autumn, this would be where the villagers would have a harvest festival of some sort and give young men and women a chance at courting.

    Now that winter was beginning, this area would be mostly deserted aside from random piles of firewood. It was natural for people to hunker down around the hearth and allow the slow, dark season to pass by while staying sheltered. It was the time for rest and preparation. Clothes were sewn or mended, new baskets woven and a thousand small tasks done. Wood carving was a common hobby, and the few books owned by the villagers passed around and read aloud. Evenings were for storytelling, singing and merriment - anything to push back the worries. Was the harvest plentiful enough? Shall we make it through without serious illness?

    These behaviors varied, of course. Taliesin had seen countless villages across his old realm, from dozens upon dozens of cultures. Yet there was much held in common between humans of all nations, when you got down to the village level and set religion aside. This insight had been earned at a heavy cost - he¡¯d watched all those villages die.

    So it was the work of moments upon entering the village that Taliesin was on alert. The houses were shuttered against the cold, of course, but they were also barricaded. Ground floor shutters were nailed shut with extra planks covering them over, and the handful of stables were crowded with people. The center of the village was packed with carts and wagons, many turned on their sides with oilskins and canvas tied overtop to make ramshackle shelters. The people who stayed within were crowded together around tiny campfires and gave the armored carriage a hostile glare. Taliesin watched from the window, and the excitement of the new world drained from him.

    ¡°Landsman Varo shall put us up again, I¡¯ve no doubt,¡± said Solveig with no hint of explanation about the refugees.

    Taliesin turned to Gunther, who gave a helpless shrug. ¡°There are more refugees now than when we came by before. The raids must be increasing.¡±

    There was a large multi-floored manor house at the back of the village with a well sized courtyard and stables attached. The carriage driver pulled in as liveried servants rushed out of the stables. Katla stepped down and spoke with them for a few minutes, which sent several scurrying inside.

    Taliesin opened the carriage door and stepped out, unwilling to be wedged into the cramped seating compartment any longer. With a deep breath he took in the crisp winter air. The evening was cold and still, the sky clear and full of stars. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d seen stars so bright, without ash clouds and acid rain creating a permanent haze overhead. He¡¯d gone from a hellscape to an unknowable amount of time in the Void. He sighed.

    The sky was beautiful.

    Behind him, attendants helped the injured guards from the wagon and into the warmth of the servant quarters behind the stables. Gunther followed along, hovering over the wounded like a mother hen before vanishing through the doors.

    ¡°Milord Taliesin, we¡¯ve been welcomed by Landsman Varo into his home. Leave the thralls to their duties. Food and warmth await us within.¡±

    Are magic users considered nobility? Taliesin made a mental note to ask about that soon, but took the title in stride for the moment.

    Taliesin turned, reinvigorated by the bracing air, and looked Katla directly in the eyes. ¡°Of course¡­ hmm, I¡¯m afraid I do not know the proper address for a warpriest.¡±

    ¡°I am Arbiter Katla Geirsdottir, milord. I¡¯m no thrall nor a simple postulant. You may address me as Arbiter until we are more familiar.¡±

    ¡°Thank you Arbiter, for humoring my ignorance,¡± said Taliesin without a hint of regret at his own lack of etiquette or cultural understanding.

    ¡°Of course, milord,¡± she replied, unsure if she was being mocked. He wasn¡¯t laughing at her, but there was a twinkle of amusement, as if Taliesin understood a joke no one else had caught.

    Lady Solveig had already retreated indoors, unwilling to brave the cold air for longer than it took to escape to the nearest hearth. Taliesin was soon escorted inside to find the first floor laid out much like a traditional longhouse. He was guided into a banqueting hall just past the entrance. At this hour, most of the seats around the u-shaped arrangement of tables were empty except for a handful of men at the head table. After a swift introduction to Landsman Varo, he was granted a seat at a table close to the hearth fire burning in the center of the room. A platter of food was soon placed before him. Solveig and Varo moved to a quiet corner and engaged in a deep conversation, while Katla vanished into the kitchens. This left Taliesin alone for the first time since he had landed bare-assed on the ground that morning.

    The food was well prepared, if a bit simple. Thick bread, venison in gravy, stewed carrots served alongside a horn of beer. Taliesin ate with pleasure as a pretty serving girl batted her eyes at him and kept him in pleasant company and his beer horn filled. Idle conversation with the girl filled his time, with light banter and soft giggles from the woman, until he¡¯d eaten his fill and was prepared to retire.

    In the back of his head, Taliesin was turning over ideas for enchanting new vestments. He had to secure a new power source to supplement his magic, as well as new defensive wards. The ones on his old robes had not held up well, but his understanding of aether had grown considerably since then. He stifled a yawn. If he had a bit of privacy, he could even work something up right away.

    ¡°My dear, could you be so kind as to point me to where I¡¯ll be resting for the evening?¡± asked Taliesin as he resolved to work through the night. He could doze in the carriage the next day.

    The young woman blushed, and said ¡°If you would follow me, milord.¡±

    She guided him up to the third floor, to a small attic room. She pushed the door open and led the way in. Taliesin stepped past her to find a few candles lit and a simple straw mattress and bedframe pressed along the wall near the chimney. A small iron wood stove pressed against the bricks with a small flame inside. This added to the heat coming off the chimney itself. A tiny desk sat in the corner with a jug of water and small bowl atop it. The space was modest but cozy. It would make a good temporary workroom to get some preliminary enchanting started.

    ¡°Will that be all milord? Or would you like me to help warm your bed?¡±

    Taliesin turned to see the serving girl untie her blouse enough to show the curves of her bare bosom showing between the laces. In a moment, he realized it had been far, far too long without any intimacy. Taliesin had suppressed his own wants and desires for many long decades even before the showdown against Balidar the Destroyer. For the first time in longer than he could recall, Taliesin relaxed his self control.

    Taliesin untied his cloak and tossed it carelessly into the corner. In two steps, he was next to the girl, who giggled even as he cupped the back of her neck and guided her lips to his. The sensation was electric, a novelty and a reminder that he was more than a lost soul devoid of feeling or a desperate researcher locked away in a tower.

    The enchanting could wait, at least for an hour or two.

 Chapter 5 - The Torque (Part 1)

    ¡°The Ostmen are given their Forgings. The men of Kemet take animistic traits. Only the Hellenes draw power from sacrifice. The Ostmen and the Kemet are granted their power directly from their gods. I would argue that only the Hellenic tribes know the price of their might, for they are the only ones honest about the price.¡±

    - Ibn Sina, Philosopher and Healer

    <hr>

    The hour was late when Taliesin rose and dressed, nearly midnight by his estimation. Despite that, he felt refreshed and eager to work. He¡¯d spent untold amounts of time in his own head while in the Void, and now that he¡¯d been returned to his life and gifted with the vigor of youth, he had things to do. He let the girl sleep, for she¡¯d no doubt have to be back to work at dawn and could use the rest.

    There were several things he needed to address. He had no enchanted gear at all. His enchanted robes had offered him some defenses, while his Celestial Grimoire had aided with spellcasting. Of course, his Orb of Eternity granted him power on par with the Merlin. None of these were available to him now, either destroyed or lost to the endless sea of worlds.

    But what did he really need? Taliesin considered the question carefully. The Grimoire was helpful, but with his new spellforming techniques, mostly irrelevant. He would ideally have notebooks and be able to write out new tomes of information and discoveries, but for that he needed a secure home. A new grimoire was a luxury for later. Defenses, on the other hand, were an absolute requirement. The enchantments on the robes were the best he could come up with at the time, but he had many new ideas that he could put into effect.

    Yet in the end, what Taliesin needed more than anything was aether. Raw aether was the stuff of true power as a wizard¡­ well, as an archmage. Taliesin corrected his thinking. If he was going to accomplish anything in this new world, he¡¯d need to embrace the new title. From the context of his conversations, and how he was being treated, archmages were equal parts nobility and semi-independent magical powerhouses.

    That brought up the question of what Taliesin wanted to do. He¡¯d been a worker bee in his past life. A high ranking one that managed to gain the ear of a powerful noble, perhaps, and a particularly talented one in the end, but a worker bee nonetheless. In his past world, the scant few ¡®wizard kings¡¯ that had small fiefdoms were few and fell swiftly. His own lands had proclaimed magic users could not wield political power, so he¡¯d never sought it. Yet if this ¡®Twilight of the Gods¡¯ was going to yield endless wars across the lands around him, he could not be some worker bee again.

    Taliesin had spent too many years in the Void to care about the whims of those who would proclaim themselves rulers. He¡¯d struggled to care about titles all day long, but those social niceties would have to be re-learned. But what he could take away from this was the mentality of a free thinker who would do what he felt was right, rather than obeying the commands of another.

    So what did he think was right? The Fates - well, in the pantheon of those around him, the Norns, so he had to get that right in his head too - had all but spelled out that this world was doomed to fail because of the machinations of the gods and their marshaled forces. All manner of man and beast would be forced to knuckle under by their power, and be destroyed.

    Taliesin had not defied the end of his own world just to die meekly in this one. He resolved that he would subvert this fate, and strive to help as many others as possible survive it as well. He would find a place to build a true citadel. It would be a powerful bastion designed to hold up against the might of terrible beasts and endless armies, and protect as many people as he could in the face of oblivion. He felt the scar left behind from his old world once more - the home he had lost, the people he had watched go while he remained behind. Things would be different this time. He had his youth and his knowledge, and he would put it to use.

    In fact, he not only had his own knowledge, he had a secret only the gods seemed to know about - the Akashic Records. If he could devise a system that allowed him to access it, or maybe his allies as well, then he might gain an advantage that would allow more people to survive - perhaps even thrive.

    With that question answered to his own satisfaction, Taliesin returned his attention to his own vestments with renewed vigor. He pulled a pouch of coins from his belt that had been given to him by one of Lady Solveig¡¯s guards. It was his portion of the loot from the bandits, no doubt granted to keep the archmage happy. He fished out a copper coin.

    Healing was something he¡¯d struggled with during his wizarding years. Few spells existed, for the clerics of Jesu Invictus had guarded their knowledge zealously. Yet he¡¯d learned a few simple spells that he¡¯d refined in the Void, and been able to offer as rudimentary support as Gunther saved what lives he could amongst their escort. With a minor [Shaping] spellform, Taliesin made the copper coin into a long stylus with a sharp point. A second coin was [Shaped] into a ring. With the spell still active, Taliesin began to carve tiny shapes into the magically softened metal. Aether paths formed into glyphs, and those glyphs combined into sigils.

    When the [Shaping] spell ended, the ring was complete. Taliesin slipped the ring onto his finger. The enchantment was very simple. It drew on the natural aether of the wearer, and would continually power a low-grade healing spell if the wearer was injured. It was undirected and basic, but also did not require attention or a special power source.

    The ring powered up immediately, and Taliesin could feel the magic going to work on his injured arm where he¡¯d been struck by a bandit¡¯s arrow. His skin itched as the magic stitched his wound. Yet the minor enchantment was far too slow for Taliesin¡¯s preferences, and it relied on his already limited aether pool. He frowned and pulled it off once his injury was gone.

    ¡°I need a source of aether,¡± Taliesin mumbled to himself quietly. His thoughts immediately turned back to the Orb of Eternity, but he had no way of recreating it. The artifact had been created long before he was born, and he¡¯d never been able to determine how it created aether. He wasn¡¯t even sure the Orb was the source, or if it drew in the aether from some other place.

    Rather than attempting to recreate a mystery, Taliesin turned back to the last sources of power he¡¯d seen. The Fates had drawn divine power from someplace other. He¡¯d seen several divine acts while in the pocket realm they inhabited, but hardly enough to be conclusive. Worse, that source had the problem of being extremely powerful, even if he learned how they used it. Then he recalled the youngest Fate, err, Norn, Skuld, had fished him out of the Void because she was harvesting ¡®Chaos¡¯ from it. Could he draw from the Void instead?

    Taliesin considered how he could go about that. He could finish recreating his portal technology, the dozens of spells and enchantments that created it. Then he¡¯d have to figure out how to reach between realms instead of directly to them, which would actually mean making his portal less efficient. But how would he harness the ¡®Chaos¡¯ that Skuld had described? He¡¯d need to develop a new spellform that could capture the aether he¡¯d floated in for so long. Yet he¡¯d not been able to really manipulate it directly the entire time he¡¯d been in there. This would be the work of years, if not longer, yet seemed far more feasible than trying to steal the power of actual goddesses.

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    As he worried at the problem of capturing aether from the Void, Taliesin¡¯s thoughts flitted back to his journey from the Norns¡¯ home to the mortal realm, and remembered his idle thoughts from the journey. He¡¯d marveled at the power of the sun, and how much raw aether it put out. He¡¯d said it had to be a thousand thousand miles from the Earth. Skuld had laughingly corrected him.

    ¡°Try ninety three thousand thousands!¡±

    Her words echoed in his memories and sparked inspiration. He didn¡¯t need to create a portal into the Void. His knowledge of spatial magics was already up for the task. He¡¯d created a gate between realms. Making a tiny portal within the same one should be far easier, especially when he knew how far he had to go.

    At the same time, there was great danger in opening a portal to such an energetic place. There was heat and energies far beyond his comprehension to contend with. This ball of flame easily warmed an entire planet that was ninety three thousand thousand miles away. He could incinerate himself and the entire village if he allowed all that to pass through.

    One of the first spells Taliesin had created was a way to prevent gasses from going through a portal. He¡¯d had a near-death accident on one of his earliest gate openings, when it opened upon a volcanic planet filled with toxic air. He had choked on the fumes and nearly passed out before he had cut the connection. If he modified that spell to block everything except aether, that should help. He could also layer several defenses on top of that. [Elemental Reflection] and [Flame Shield] could prevent the tiny area from being overwhelmed. However, he¡¯d still need to keep the portal very small.

    After going over and over the design in his head a few times, Taliesin decided on a bracelet design with a round circle on the top about two inches in diameter. He needed more surface area than a ring would provide. It took four coins worth of copper to [Shape] an appropriately sized bracelet in a tight ¡°C¡± shape. Two eyelets at the ends would let him use a strip of cloth or leather to tie it tight to his wrist. Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, Taliesin set to work with the stylus and a fresh cast of [Shape].

    The complex array of glyphs and sigils were a pleasure to lay out. Taliesin had taken his original spatial magics and torn them apart piece by piece and redesigned them while in the Void. They were the end result of a lifetime of study, despite these spells being far from his personal specialities. Yet the fact was he¡¯d designed them twice over now, and finding a new way to use them was deeply satisfying.

    The [Shape] spell sputtered out just as the last line was laid down. Taliesin set the bracelet down on the table. It sat there cold and lifeless, waiting for him to take the final step. Unlike the Minor Ring of Healing that he¡¯d made, this one did not draw aether from the user. It was designed to draw in aether from the sun at its incredible distance away, and would use a tiny fraction of that power to fuel its enchantments. But it required aether from Taliesin to start the process.

    Suddenly nervous, Taliesin double checked his work once more. The two-inch portal would bring in a lot of aether, if his estimation was at all close. Finding no problems, he began to push his aether into the appropriate place on the enchantment. More and more aether poured in, until a critical tipping point was achieved. Then, inside the metal disk on the top of the bracelet, a tiny gate opened. It wasn¡¯t visible to the naked eye, but aether began to pour in. The sigils glowed orange and the metal grew warm to the touch.

    Taliesin tapped into the aether using the appropriate enchantment, and could sense a deep well of power growing. He felt exultant for his achievement. Endless power, on a simple bracelet! The power just kept growing. In horror, Taliesin realized that even with just aether being pulled through the tiny portal, it was still too much for his enchantments.

    Taliesin drew deeply from the aether pouring from the portal, and began casting a series of spells.

    ¡°[Flame Shield], [Disperse Energy], [Defensive Ward], [Zone of Protection]¡±

    Few of these were suitable for blocking aether, but the bracelet itself was going to melt catastrophically and release the energy. Instead, Taliesin deftly tied that aether into reinforcing all of these spells. Over and over, he pushed aether into each defense, layering them until they were as impenetrable as he could make them. The spellforms he¡¯d crafted blocked the bracelet entirely from view.

    Whump.

    A quiet thrum of power pulsed, and all the defensive spells winked out without fanfare. The bracelet was gone - completely annihilated by the rampant aether and explosive destruction of the overloaded enchantments. In addition, a perfect circle of the table was missing as well, leaving a bracelet-sized hole next to the wash basin.

    Taliesin sat back in relief. He glanced over to see the girl hadn¡¯t shifted at all, still sound asleep in the bed.

    ¡°Hmm, a few problems with that,¡± he mumbled as his thoughts returned to the task at hand while ignoring the new hole in the table.

    The material had been insufficient. Copper could handle aether to a point, but poorly compared to orichalcum or mithril. Silver and gold would both be better, especially if wound around a core of iron or steel. Also, he needed to layer more enchantments. Perhaps I can make the aether flow adjustable, so less comes through? Taliesin nodded. Pairing that with a much smaller gate should do the trick.

    Taliesin surveyed the coins he had remaining. He had four silver coins and a very small, square gold coin. He shrugged. It was only money. He¡¯d make more later. The problem was that he had no steel or iron. But there was iron in the room. Taliesin turned to look at the wood stove. Hmm, that¡¯ll work.

    Without concern as to what his host might think, Taliesin [Shaped] the woodstove¡¯s iron door, thinning it across the entire surface until he had a four inch length of iron. With a bit of effort, he turned that length into an eight-inch long tube, then braided the silver from the coins around it. Finally, he took the gold coin and threaded it around the silver. A ball of iron thinly coated with silver ended the new torque, and the thick necklace would rest easily about his neck.

    When Taliesin took up his copper stylus, this time he knew he was in for a long session. The ring had taken no time at all, while the failed bracelet had taken the better part of an hour. The torque was going to be truly challenging. This time, the gate would only be the size of a pinhole. In addition, the defenses would be multi-layered and considerably stronger than on his first attempt. Finally, the main filter enchantment would be adjusted to limit the amount of aether allowed through as well.

    With an effort of will, Taliesin began to carve. His focus was intense, for the engravings required precision and perfection. He layered in the base of the enchantment spellforms before adding in the glyphs. Line after painstaking line, Taliesin built the sigils that would punch a hole through space and draw power through it. Joy flooded through him as he reached the end of the process, and the last sigil fell into place.

    After carefully checking for mistakes, Taliesin placed the torque on the table. With no small amount of apprehension, he began to pour his own aether into the device. Much like the bracelet, it drew in a considerable portion of his aether pool before it sputtered to life. Taliesin refused to become excited as he monitored the aether drawing into the necklace. The sigils glowed and sparkled with a white light that had faintly pink and orange hues to it, not unlike the light of a rising sun. The artifact¡¯s well of power grew and stabilized, now strengthened sufficiently that Taliesin could open the flow all the way and draw power directly from the Torque¡¯s gate without damaging it.

    With a happy smile, Taliesin twisted the torque into place around his neck and tapped into it. The amount of aether he could draw was considerably larger than his own aether pool, and it would never end. This was a good start to his new vestments. Almost absently, he took one more copper coin and made a new Ring of Healing. This one was similar to the first only in appearance, for Taliesin was able to tie it directly to his torque and thus use a much more powerful healing enchantment.

    Now that he had a usable power source and an enchanted ring, Taliesin felt much more secure. It was far from everything he truly needed as an archmage. He still needed a gauntlet or staff with powerful spells enchanted directly within, proper defensive wards and shields, contingency items, and maybe even a new grimoire. His power source was solid but crude, and he suspected he had a great deal of experimentation and refinement in his future. But for today, it was a good start.

    ¡°It¡¯s pretty,¡± murmured a sleepy voice from the bed. ¡°What¡¯s it called?¡±

    ¡°The Torque of Dawn,¡± said Taliesin. Light was coming through the shutters, warning of the impending day. It was a shame, because now he was ready for a nap.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± she said with a yawn. ¡°That¡¯s nice. Thanks for letting me sleep. It was much warmer than the servants quarters.¡±

    Taliesin gave a genuine chuckle. ¡°Yes, I¡¯d imagine it is.¡±

 Chapter 6 - The Torque (Part 2)

    A loud crash and sudden screams sounded from outside. An explosion swiftly followed accompanied by yells and shouts. Taliesin jumped to his feet as the girl jerked upright in bed. She slid from the blankets and began grasping for her clothes.

    ¡°You should stay here,¡± said Taliesin as he threw on his cloak. ¡°If the village is under attack, I expect this house is the safest place to be.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± she said as she pulled her tunic on over her head. ¡°I have to get to my parents and my little brother! They live outside the walls!¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t they come to the village?¡±

    ¡°They started kicking out thralls to make room for huscarls and their families. My parents¡¯ house is pretty sturdy so they stayed home. I have to get to them!¡±

    Taliesin could appreciate her desire to aid her family, and nodded in understanding. ¡°I¡¯ll help you.¡±

    He walked to the woodstove and [Shaped] away the door to form a rudimentary dagger. With a swift move, he sliced a strip of cloth off the bedsheet and wound it around the handle before tying it in place to make a rudimentary grip for the sharp blade.

    ¡°North or south?¡± asked Taliesin.

    The girl, now fully dressed, was heading for the door.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Your parents. Do they live north or south of the village?¡±

    ¡°North - why¡­?¡±

    Taliesin drew deeply from his torque and cast a portal spell that opened into a field north of the village. He¡¯d aimed towards the fields rather than the road, in case there were attackers coming from that direction. He handed her the dagger, then on a whim, the first copper ring.

    ¡°The dagger is nothing special, but the ring can do some minor healing.¡± Taliesin gave her a brief explanation of how to use the ring. ¡°Go help your parents, and may your gods protect you.¡±

    ¡°Th-thank you!¡± The girl gave him a swift hug before running through the portal. Taliesin let it drop even as more screams resounded through the village.

    Now it was time to really let loose.

    <hr>

    A loud crash resounded through the structure even as Taliesin strode purposefully down the stairs. A stone had blasted through the outer wall, scattering broken brick and plaster across the stairs before coming to rest in the opposite bedroom. Taliesin calmly stepped over the debris as he tied his cloak in place. He peered into the bedroom to see two people cowering in the corner.

    ¡°You¡¯d best be dressed and ready to flee, if you¡¯re not willing to fight,¡± said Taliesin. ¡°From the volume of screams outside, the battle goes poorly.¡±

    He did not wait to see if they heeded his advice. Instead, he went to the large hole in the wall. He could see Katla and her guards fighting desperately in the courtyard below against tall, dog-faced creatures. The monsters were well over seven feet tall and hunched over, with gaunt frames and lean, powerful muscles. The gnolls were dressed in leather armor. They wielded halberds that extended their already long reach, and many had shields as well.

    ¡°Hmm. [Phantom Armor].¡± Taliesin felt the relief of being able to cast without straining his own aether pool. The armor spell in particular was important and was far stronger now. The gnolls had the advantage of surprise and numbers, and if he didn¡¯t do something to break their cohesion, they¡¯d tear down the village before any real counteroffensive could get off the ground. Taliesin eyed the largest group of gnolls. That seemed like a good place to start.

    ¡°[Lightning Strike].¡±

    Down below, the lightning attack that Taliesin had casually flung into the mass of gnolls had yielded immediate effect. The gnolls had been herding the outnumbered guards back and had kept Katla occupied and unable to go on the offensive. The single lightning strike had slain a gnoll in the center of their formation and shocked a few close by as well. They had instinctively shied away from the source of pain and tangled themselves up in their fellows.

    Not one to let a good distraction go to waste, Katla leapt forward in a frenzied attack, her sword whirling and darting in and out as she tore into the band of gnolls. They yelped in alarm as she ripped through leather armor and cleaved skulls in a spinning dervish of an assault. The gnolls fell back in dismay.

    ¡°[Shockbolt]¡± intoned Taliesin. A dozen small bolts of electrical power flew from his hand. They swirled chaotically through the air, and sought a half-dozen gnolls. This was a weaker attack than his [Lightning Strike] spell, but caused injury while also throwing the remaining knot of gnolls back on the defensive.

    An arrow bounced off of Taliesin¡¯s ethereal armor. He looked for a source, and realized that there was an entire contingent of gnolls, complete with infantry and archers, running amok through the town. Small groups of defenders fought from dead-end alleys between houses, while many of the buildings were heavily ablaze. Outside the walls, three monstrously large, yeti-like creatures stood taller than the walls. With thick, heavy fur coats and monstrous maws, these giant creatures were flinging stones and jars of flaming naphtha.

    ¡°To arms, to arms!¡± came a rallying cry from the courtyard below. Landsman Varo and his personal guard stormed out of the house and took the gnolls below from behind. The gnolls were trapped between armed and armored soldiers and an enraged Katla as she tore deep into their formation. The carriage guards followed behind her, finishing off the injured and protecting her flank. They did not need his help.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°It¡¯s time to see what this Torque of Dawn can do,¡± said Taliesin. He drew deeply from the new artifact, using the power of the sun to fuel his magic. The warmth of the sun¡¯s aether flowed through him and around him as it gathered to his hands. He felt a thrill of excitement that never grew old, the same excitement that had driven him to study until his eyes blurred in his youth. Now, as a master wizard turned Archmage, the thrum of power was an extension of his very existence, the culmination of a lifetime of study and practice.

    ¡°[Gather the Storms].¡±

    The sky overhead boomed with thunder and the wind suddenly changed directions. Clouds began to move with unnatural speed even as the first drops of rain began to fall unnoticed on the battle below. Energy began to gather around Taliesin, as tiny lightning bolts coursed around his limbs and his feet left the ground.

    The spell grew in strength as rain began to fall in earnest as the smell of ozone began to permeate the air. The spell would empower Taliesin¡¯s storm magics, making them all the more devastating. A crack of thunder was the prelude to a sudden downpour that began to douse flames and turn the road into mud. Taliesin floated out of the broken house and above the courtyard, arms spread and eyes closed. The feeling of power coursing through him after countless eons without sensation. But he was not one to be mastered so easily. Taliesin had firm control of this power. His eyes snapped open.

    ¡°[Storm of Malice].¡±

    A dozen bolts of lightning slammed down out of the sky into the street below. The lightning bolts jumped from gnoll to gnoll with a crackling sound as raw power singed the very air. The raiders burned from the inside out, leaving the stench of charred flesh and viscera behind as they fell convulsing into the mud. Steam rose from the bodies even as another dozen came right behind the first set. A final dozen combined into a single, overpowering blast that struck the center of the largest group of enemies and left only a crater behind.

    A shocked silence came across the village square turned battlefield, as the momentum of the gnolls was broken but before the defenders could take advantage. A ragged cheer from the villagers quickly turned into the roar of battle cries as village soldiers, Solveig¡¯s guards led by Katla, and regular men and women armed with clubs, kitchen knives, and spears taken from the dead charged forward.

    Without warning, a stone the size of a wagon wheel slammed into Taliesin, and he felt the armor spell buckle, then break. He lost his concentration and flew from the sky. Taliesin smashed into a roof that was thankfully not in flames, although his landing had done the structure no favors.

    ¡°Ow.¡±

    Taliesin sat up in the attic of the small building. His leg hurt like hell, as did his ribs. With an effort, he hobbled back to his feet. Already, his second, proper Ring of Healing was hard at work. This left less power from the Torque of Dawn for him to work with. After gingerly climbing to his feet, Taliesin realized he must have broken a rib, and may have cracked his femur.

    ¡°I might want to re-think my situational awareness. Maybe floating in the middle of a storm wasn¡¯t the best positioning.¡± Feeling chastened as well as injured, Taliesin prepared to get back into the fight.

    He quickly recast [Phantom Armor], before he allowed [Gather the Storms] to pull him back into the sky once more. This time, Taliesin flew high enough to spot where the stone had been thrown from, before floating back down to the roofline.

    The three yeti beasts on the outside of the wall were screaming and pointing when he spotted them, while one of them shoved the second one in anger. The third pointed at the roof where Taliesin had emerged. It seems I¡¯ve become a target, thought Taliesin. Let¡¯s return the favor.

    A new stone was hurled by one of the yeti, but Taliesin had already moved. The missile shattered the roof and tore deep into a support structure. The building sagged behind him as he moved to a better vantage point.

    In the shadows of a broken and burnt roof, Taliesin snatched up a piece of charred wood. In his other hand, he pulled out the thin copper stylus he¡¯d used earlier with his enchanting. With a few deft movements, Taliesin drew a simple charcoal circle. Then with the stylus, he began to draw with aether pulled from his torque. It took long moments to draw out the magic circle, moments he only had because he was hidden from view.

    ¡°I need better vestments,¡± he muttered to himself as he worked. Then the entire sigil hummed to life. Once more, Taliesin lifted off the roof, just high enough to spot his targets. He cursed, for one of the yeti had wandered away.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get two of the three, at least. [Celestial Annihilation].¡±

    From his casting hand, a column of blistering hot plasma rocketed towards two yeti. The plasma crackled with lightning, but its core was sheer, intense heat. The bolt burned straight through the top of the wall and struck the ground between the two monsters. There was an explosion of light, followed two seconds later by a loud ¡®bamf¡¯ sound. Taliesin tumbled out of the sky, blown backwards by the might of the spell he¡¯d just cast. The magic circle he¡¯d hastily drawn exploded in a much less dramatic fashion, although it mostly just shredded what was left of the roof.

    Taliesin hit the street and broke his [Phantom Armor] for the second time inside of five minutes, and rolled through the mud in a tangled heap. With a groan, Taliesin looked up at a dumbfounded gnoll that stared down at him in disbelief.

    ¡°Urg. I think I broke another rib,¡± he informed the gnoll.

    A blade removed the gnolls head, causing the jackal-faced raider to fall to the side. Katla stood resplendent in her armor, blood splattered heavily across her breastplate.

    ¡°Get up and earn your keep, mage. The fight is not yet ended,¡± she snarled at him as she cut down a nearby gnoll in a spray of viscera. ¡°Unless you plan to laze about like a vagabond.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m seriously considering it,¡± he said, then realized his hand was severely burned from the last spell he¡¯d cast. ¡°Oh, crap, the last yeti!¡±

    Katla spun to see the third yeti towering over the wall, a jar of flaming naphtha in its hands and its eyes on Taliesin. Taliesin rolled to his feet as swiftly as he could, but was certain he¡¯d be too late.

    ¡°<Smite>!¡±

    A column of divine might slammed down onto the yeti¡¯s head straight through the jar of naphtha. The flaming tar soaked the monster even as the holy flame melted the yeti¡¯s skull. It gave one brief, piteous scream before it fell backwards.

    That was the last straw for the suddenly beleaguered raiders. The gnolls broke and ran.

    ¡°Thanks again, Arbiter,¡± said Taliesin.

    ¡°It is my duty, Archmage. And we¡¯ve managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. I will give my thanks to Freya.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be too thankful yet, Arbiter,¡± said Taliesin as he surveyed the wreckage around him. The pitiful refugee camp that had made up the center of the small village was destroyed. The houses were in various states of wreckage, with damage ranging from severe to total loss. He couldn¡¯t see a single sound building. The wall around the village was broken in several places, although he conveniently overlooked the one spot on the palisade with a perfect, six foot diameter hole burned straight through it.

    ¡°What¡­ oh.¡±

    ¡°We may have won the battle, but this village is doomed.¡±

 Chapter 7 - The Aftermath (Part 1)

    ¡°Will the world end? Can it end? Many learned men have debated this over the generations. While I have long had rationalist leanings, I also believe in empirical data. We have witnessed lines being drawn on the map by the three Pantheons of the West. With no pantheons left in the East to pose a challenge, they need not conspire together. The world may end, it may not. Yet the empirical evidence is clear.

    A war is coming that may yet doom us all.¡±

    -Augustine of Hippo

    <hr>

    Taliesin cradled his injured hand to his chest, using a strip of cloth liberated from a dead gnoll¡¯s cloak as a sling. He made his way through the wrecked village back to the Landsman¡¯s house, Katla in tow. He¡¯d landed not far from it, in fact, which was how Katla had spotted his need. All around, people began to come out from hiding spots. The cries and wails of grief from the survivors intermixed with tending to the injured. The smell of blood and wet dog mixed with the acrid smell of burned wood and flesh. At least the rain had stopped.

    They found Gunther in the courtyard, which had at some point in the battle become a haven for fleeing villagers and a stronghold for Landsman Varo¡¯s men. Gunther was directing a few of the armsmen as they brought the injured and dying to him. The rest of them stood around, lost and directionless. It was then that Taliesin spotted Lady Solveig kneeling on the ground with the uncovered head of an armored man in her lap.

    Taliesin walked over to her. She was bedraggled, wearing a dress but no cloak, damp from the sudden rain and filthy with soot. She stroked the man¡¯s head and looked beside herself. Varo was dead.

    ¡°He was my friend. I¡¯ve known him for thirty years now,¡± she whispered as Taliesin came up. ¡°His life¡¯s work is destroyed, his village is in ruins.¡±

    ¡°Lady Solveig, my deepest condolences on the loss of Landsman Varo. I know you have lost a dear friend, but now is not the time to grieve. We¡¯ve much to do if we wish to get out of this alive,¡± said Taliesin, although not without a gentle empathy to his voice. ¡°The gates are destroyed and the walls sundered, and no building is undamaged enough to withstand the weather. Varo would want his people to survive to carry on his legacy, and much work is needed to make that happen..¡±

    Solveig looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. Then she looked to Katla as if seeking confirmation.

    ¡°The Archmage is correct, milady,¡± said Katla. ¡°We have to organize a counterattack and drive off these gnolls before they can regroup. Their attack cannot go unanswered.¡±

    ¡°I did not push for a counterattack,¡± argued Taliesin, frustrated that the warpriest was putting words in his mouth. ¡°We must aid the people in fleeing to safety. This village is unsafe from a renewed assault and will fare poorly against the cold.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know¡­ what - I mean, I¡¯ve never¡­ my father is the Jarl, not me!¡±

    ¡°Milady, you need to pull yourself together,¡± said Katla forcefully. ¡°We need your direction.¡±

    Solveig seemed on the verge of shutting down, so Taliesin waved Katla back. ¡°I know how to handle this.¡±

    He spotted one of the maid thralls huddled in a corner, looking equally lost. He motioned to her to come forth. This familiar command, likely reinforced by many long years of service, jerked the maid from her reverie. She hustled over.

    ¡°The Lady Solveig is in shock. Can you assist her? She needs warm travel clothes. Get yourself warm clothing as well.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Stormlord,¡± she said, before rushing over to Solveig. Taliesin paused at the strange title she¡¯d said, but had no time to consider it further.

    ¡°We¡¯ll let her rest,¡± said Taliesin to Katla.

    ¡°But who -¡±

    ¡°I will organize the villagers,¡± said Taliesin. ¡°We¡¯ve no choice. Lady Solveig is in shock.¡±

    Katla glowered at him for a long moment, but deflated. ¡°Of course, milord Archmage. Shall I organize the defenses?¡±

    ¡°Get the soldiers ready to rally around the village. Find hunters or local farmers to send out to scout. We need eyes out there. You are correct; the gnolls will regroup. But we must be ready for them, and ideally, long gone.¡±

    Katla gave a nod, clearly displeased with the commands, but also obedient in a way that only a rigid adherent of a hierarchy could be. Taliesin could see that she trusted in power structures, and whatever problem she had with magic users was, he fit into a position of authority.

    Taliesin jumped up on an overturned crate, and spoke loudly to the crowd. ¡°I am Archmage Taliesin. We have won a great victory, but not without loss. This includes Landsman Varo, who fell while valiantly defending the lives of everyone here. While we may have driven off the raiders, we are still in grave danger. Many of your fellows have fallen, and many more are injured. Lady Solveig and Healer Gunther are tending to the injured, so it falls to us to prepare for an evacuation. This village is damaged beyond repair, so we must gather what we can and flee.¡±

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°Why would we leave? This is our home!¡± called someone from the crowd. Another called out, ¡°We can rebuild!¡±

    ¡°You are welcome to stay if you¡¯d like. But know this - the gnolls will return, with more numbers than before. All who wish for safety will not find it here. I will be leaving with them to find a more secure town.¡±

    There were murmurs through the crowd, and the mood shifted. After all, their chief defender had died, even with an archmage assisting in the battle. Now that archmage was leaving. Taliesin held up his hands to quiet the murmurs.

    ¡°Go and rescue anyone you can from the buildings. Bring the injured here. Gather as many wagons as you can. We¡¯ll need clothes, blankets, food and supplies. Seek every weapon you can find, for this may turn into a desperate fight before this trip is through.¡±

    Taliesin turned to Katla. ¡°Take charge of the guards. Have them kill any surviving gnolls, and loot their corpses of anything valuable. Be clear that this is not their personal loot, for the survival of their families may depend on pooling this resource for everyone.¡±

    Katla looked at him searchingly for a moment, then nodded. She turned to the loitering armsmen and shouted, ¡°You heard the Stormlord. Get to work. You, you and you, you¡¯re with me. The rest of you form into your squads¡­¡±

    Taliesin turned away and walked to Gunther. ¡°Tell me where you need me.¡±

    <hr>

    It took hours before the injuries were stabilized. Taliesin¡¯s healing spell, poor as it was, helped bolster Gunther¡¯s more powerful but limited Forging. They moved to a system where Taliesin helped stabilize everyone who was found, while Gunther used his far superior <Heal> to directly restore the most severely wounded.

    ¡°Taliesin, I need you to help direct efforts towards shelter more than healing,¡± said Gunther. ¡°I have more mundane medical training and the thralls can assist me now. Odin knows it¡¯ll take me a few hours of rest before I can <Heal> again. I dare not Boost for at least a few days after today¡¯s trials.¡±

    ¡°Very well, I¡¯ll leave you to it,¡± said Taliesin with no small amount of relief. He stood, taking a long breath to steady himself. He was a poor healer, although not because his spell didn¡¯t work. In fact, his own injuries had healed enough from his Ring of Healing that he¡¯d been able to turn his sling over to an injured villager.

    What bothered Taliesin was that he did not have the temperament to be amidst such blood and misery. It was a thankless, never ending task and one that filled him with dread at the mere thought of it becoming a regular duty. Yet he could come up with enchanted items that could assist in his place, given the time and opportunity to develop them. With a shake of his head, Taliesin added it to his list and moved on.

    The village looked even more shattered now that the false dawn of the attack had brightened into true daylight. Several buildings had completely collapsed, with piles of debris obviously shifted aside by rescuers as they searched for survivors. Many others looked dangerously unsound, with boards haphazardly thrown across broken doors to signal the risk within. One collapsed building had been designated as the gnoll pyre, with the dead raiders tossed in amongst random wreckage to be burned later. Loved ones were being laid out in another part of the village with considerably more care, while a team was digging a mass grave with admirable speed.

    Yet despite the losses, all hope was not gone. Katla had two dozen men-at-arms and armor patrolling the village in pairs, keeping things orderly. The roughshod, broken mob of refugees had been turned into the start of a caravan. The most damaged wagons had been cannibalized to repair the rest, and a proper wagon train was being loaded. At the front was Lady Solveig¡¯s carriage, which had emerged unscathed from the courtyard, moved aside to make room for more injured.

    Some of the wagons were styled with high walls and narrow frame, ideal for cross-country travel but not for carrying large loads. Others were squat and flat with only a single pair of wheels, meant for carrying grains or hay and pulled by only a single ox around a farmer¡¯s field. Nonetheless, all were being loaded up and tied down as best as possible. There were even a number of wheelbarrows being loaded, ready to be pushed by hand.

    ¡°Who is acting as the caravan master?¡± Taliesin asked one of the armsmen on patrol.

    ¡°Viggo is, Stormlord,¡± mumbled one of the armsmen, as he pointed to a middle-aged man in modest clothes, albeit sooty and in disarray much like everyone here. The man was directing porters and thralls as they came up with cargo, and appeared quite busy.

    Taliesin nodded and started to walk, but the guard cleared his throat. He turned back to the man. ¡°Was there something else?¡±

    ¡°Umm¡­ me an¡¯ some of the others were wonderin¡¯... that is¡­ we heard you was a new archmage here and had no varingjar - no sworn men? err, milord?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± he answered, unsure of what the warrior was driving at.

    ¡°With Landsman Varo gone, well, we¡¯re wonderin¡¯ if you¡¯d be needin¡¯ some sworn men of your own and all.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± said Taliesin. His hand automatically went to just below his chin to stroke a long, gray beard that he no longer had. Instead, he scratched at the short stubble on his chin. ¡°I take it that the Landsman was providing for you and your families?¡±

    The guard nodded in relief that Taliesin understood. ¡°Yes, milord.¡±

    In his own homeland, it was a common practice for nobles to keep retainers such as this. Well trained warriors were sworn to a noble household, which provided shelter, food and a small stipend of goods and a few pennies for the warriors¡¯ family. Otherwise the noble would have to rely solely on conscripts to fill out their soldiery in times of need. Taliesin was sure that there were cultural nuances that he¡¯d need to learn. He¡¯d already seen many instances of it. These people reminded him more of the Danish tribesmen he¡¯d met from the Danelaw duchies north of Londinium, but he¡¯d not learned much of their way of life.

    The real question for Taliesin was whether he intended to set up a proper noble household. Varo¡¯s death was tragic, and the end of the man¡¯s family line so far as Taliesin knew, but it afforded him an opportunity to poach talent should he so desire. It was a surprise to him that he was waffling on this now, on the cusp of such a decision.

    Had he not just decided, a scant few hours earlier, that he could not proceed in life as a worker bee again? Had he not just resolved to build a bastion against the Twilight of the Gods? Was he planning to live there alone and do everything himself? Hardly not. It was time to start putting his thoughts and plans into practice. If he was truly going to act, he had no time to lose.

 Chapter 8 - The Aftermath (Part 2)

    ¡°Yes, I am looking for armsmen. Have you a senior officer? Aside from the Arbiter?¡± Taliesin looked over the armsman appraisingly and determined that he looked both too experienced as a warrior for the village and too junior in rank to be having this conversation.

    ¡°Beggin¡¯ your pardon, milord, but the Arbiter ain¡¯t no commander of ours, exceptin¡¯ by your command a few hours ago.¡±

    ¡°I see, and you were hoping I¡¯d take you on as a¡­ varingjar?¡±

    The man looked embarrassed all of a sudden, and Taliesin quickly realized the man had overstepped or made a social faux pas of some sort. ¡°No, no, milord Archmage, I wouldn¡¯t presume to ask such on only a passin¡¯ conversation. Don¡¯t mind me, I¡¯m always stickin¡¯ my foot in me mouth. My chief is Runolf, he¡¯s the one good with words and all.¡±

    ¡°I see. Thank you,¡± said Taliesin before walking away.

    Behind him, he heard a distinct thunk sound of someone in armor getting punched, and a muffled curse. ¡°Dammit Bjorn, shut your face!¡±

    Viggo spotted the archmage as he approached and swiftly shooed away the various people vying for his attention.

    ¡°Milord Archmage! That was a very impressive display of your abilities! Already the townspeople are whispering about the Stormlord destroying an army!¡± praised the man. Viggo was a bit portly, his clothes of quality fabric and his cloak lined out in fur with thin silver chains to clasp it. A woolen cap was clasped tightly to his head, but still his nose was bright red from the cold.

    Taliesin waved away the pleasantries. ¡°How goes the caravan? Shall it be ready soon? This village is unsafe, and we must get these people away and to shelter.¡±

    Viggo¡¯s demeanor changed at once, quick to realize that Taliesin wasn¡¯t one to enjoy flattery. ¡°Of course, milord, we¡¯re loading as swiftly as we can. To our fortune, the granary was not burned, merely damaged. The food inside was secure, so we''ve filled most of the wagons we can find. Clothes, blankets and sundry are well in hand, since they are easily salvaged. Tools and the like as well, although we lost the smithy altogether and the fletcher and his family were slain. The blacksmith¡¯s apprentice yet lives, and is digging in the ashes to see what he can salvage. Weapons and the like, you¡¯ll need to speak to Runolf. All told, I expect we can set off within an hour or two, barring any major problems.¡±

    Taliesin was impressed. The man had dropped the inane compliments immediately, and had a sharp mind behind the mild appearance. ¡°Tell me, Viggo, what was your role here in the village?¡±

    ¡°I served Landsman Varo as one of his quartermasters, and answered to his steward. My family traded in textiles and potash, although it¡¯s been hard times lately. This whole mess with the Gods has thrown shipping for a loop. My cousin¡¯s friend even lost his ship to it!¡± Viggo looked positively offended at the thought.

    ¡°So you¡¯re well versed in goods management and trade then?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, milord! I¡¯d have been no use to the Landsman otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. I¡¯m new to this land and its customs. I¡¯d like to set up a refuge, a secure stronghold against this ¡®Twilight of the Gods¡¯ and its consequences, and save as many people as possible.¡±

    ¡°A most admirable goal, milord Archmage. I presume you¡¯re in need of staff?¡± he eyed Taliesin shrewdly. Taliesin could almost see the man¡¯s mind whirling and processing the new information.

    ¡°I need men of talent, Viggo, men of steadfast will and strong character. Are you such a man?¡±

    ¡°I just might be,¡± Viggo said slowly. Then he gave a sharp nod. ¡°Yes, I do believe I am. Landsman Varo was a just master who kept his people safe. If you¡¯re taking up his mantle, I¡¯d like to help.¡±

    ¡°I hope to do far better than Landsman Varo, may his soul find peace,¡± replied Taliesin, although he stopped himself from giving the sign of Jesu Invictus. It would mean nothing here, anyway. ¡°Let¡¯s start with your management of this caravan. We¡¯ll discuss terms once we¡¯ve brought these people to shelter.¡±

    Viggo nodded in agreement. ¡°Milord, might I offer a suggestion?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you might want to consider¡­ a martial retinue? After all, you cannot be everywhere at once, and even you must sleep sometime.¡±

    This seemed to be becoming a common theme, Taliesin thought. Twice in a row, people were expecting him to seek out soldiers of his own. It seemed if archmages were considered nobility in this society, then enacting his own plans might actually be a natural fit to the culture of these people. If that was the case, Taliesin certainly wasn¡¯t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If they wanted him to be a noble, he could certainly take advantage of the situation.

    As he walked away from Viggo, Taliesin was surprised to find that he¡¯d felt a growing pressure during the discussion. He¡¯d never been on the ¡®noble¡¯ end of conversations like this, and found it a touch disconcerting.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Taliesin stopped a passing soldier and asked him to point out Runolf. The chief was a grizzled man with a heavy mace in one hand and several soldiers beside him. He was directing soldiers every bit as much as the Arbiter. With a quick thanks to his co-opted guide and a minor healing spell, he sent the soldier on his way.

    ¡°Stormlord,¡± said Runolf respectfully. ¡°Your magic was well timed. It saved me and most of my lads.¡±

    Taliesin nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°I saw you and your men taking the fight to the gnolls. I¡¯ve no doubt you¡¯d have triumphed in the end.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, milord, you¡¯re too kind,¡± said Runolf gruffly. The attempt at manners felt stilted and uncomfortable coming from the rough soldier. Taliesin was familiar with the type - likely a warrior his whole life and more accustomed to a camp tent and battle than finery and polite company. That was fine, he would need many such men.

    ¡°Let¡¯s take a walk, Runolf,¡± said Taliesin.

    ¡°Of course, milord.¡± Runolf waved off the two warriors at his side. Rather than walking away, however, the men feel back at a distance, out of earshot but close enough to protect their chief. Taliesin¡¯s estimation of the man ticked up a few degrees.

    ¡°I find that we are both in an interesting position. I¡¯ve taken nominal lead of this village¡¯s people, at least insofar as getting them to safety. Yet I am not a proper Landsman, nor a kinsman of poor Varo. On the other side of the coin, you, Runolf, are a chief without a lord. Landsman Varo ensured you, your men and your families were provided for in return for your soldiering.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m seein¡¯ what your driving at, milord. Pardon my saying this, but you¡¯re a foreigner without no retinue of your own, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you¡¯ve hit the heart of the problem.¡±

    Runolf looked him up and down appraisingly. ¡°You look like a young buck, but you don¡¯t talk like one. Young lords are cut from the same cloth, all bravado and arrogance. You ain¡¯t as young as you look, are you?¡±

    Taliesin smiled broadly. ¡°Runolf, you¡¯re a canny one. No, I¡¯m quite a bit older than I look. Call it a gift of Fate, if you¡¯d like.¡±

    ¡°So what, exactly, are you looking to do, milord?¡±

    ¡°For now, I¡¯m seeking to find a place of security for those who are here. The Twilight of the Gods is upon us, and I would not see all the people of this world lost simply because the gods wish to war upon each other. I look to build a proper bastion to outlast the battles to come.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a worthy goal, milord. I¡¯m liking the sound of safehold, but what of the families of my lads? You¡¯re lookin¡¯ to take us on as varingjar, so what happens when one of the men die? What of their family?¡±

    Taliesin stopped and turned to Runolf. ¡°I have already said my plans, but I¡¯m not sure you truly understood. I¡¯ve already seen one world destroyed by endless hordes of merciless creatures. I personally escorted the last of my people to safety and stayed behind in the ruins to prevent the danger from following them. My reward for my service was untold ages in the void between worlds, a deathless purgatory with only my own thoughts for company. I care little for the politics of this world, or the gods that war over it. I thrice denied the demands of the Norns and the gods behind them, for I shall not buckle to the whims of gods or man. You worry about your families, as is good and right. I shall care for all families in my trust. The families of your warriors will be well cared for should they fall, supported and kept safe behind what walls and armies I can assemble.¡±

    As his rant concluded, he mentally recoiled in surprise. Taliesin caught himself off guard with the fervency of his impromptu speech. It was true that he failed to care much about the titles and hierarchies around him. He¡¯d only made cursory inquiries into local etiquette, if only to avoid looking completely foolish. Instead, his thoughts had geared him towards independent action, and as an archmage, he was given the chance to act on it.

    A look of incredulity was written across Runolf¡¯s face. ¡°Yer... yer gonna fight the gods?¡±

    ¡°Only if I have to. Really, I seek to protect people so that when they fight, their power doesn¡¯t destroy us as collateral damage.¡±

    The look morphed from one of incredulity to recognition. Whether Runolf was recognizing Taliesin as a madman or a visionary, Taliesin wasn¡¯t sure. He hoped for the latter, but suspected it was the former. But Runolf nodded.

    ¡°Good enough,¡± said the old soldier pragmatically. ¡°In return for proper provisioning for us and our families, and a fair share of any loot, me and mine will be your varingjar. We¡¯ll protect you, kith and kin, and fight at your command. Seein¡¯ as you look confused, varingjar are your retinue, your Oathbound, or whatever term you want to call us. I¡¯m chief of the men, but if you add more soldiers, over time many of my men will be chiefs in their own right, as they fill out their own throngs. When you go to war, you have your varingjar, you have your armsmen, and any other auxiliary or allied forces you muster. Just don¡¯t be puttin¡¯ that Arbiter as our commander again. We ain¡¯t got no business with Warpriests of Freya.¡±

    Taliesin gave him a quick nod of understanding. It would take time to learn the nuances, but the arrangement made sense. He was building an inner circle, and this was the martial part of his retinue. It was best to have bodyguards you trusted implicitly, so he would have to prove himself many times over to be worthy of protecting. He had no blood ties to these men, and their village was destroyed. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about the details of those provisions¡­¡±

    Some time later, after a long and fruitful conversation, Runolf stood in front of the caravan with his entire throng of soldiers, some two dozen in all. Runolf doffed his helmet, and knelt before Taliesin. Behind him, his soldiers followed his lead. ¡°I, Runolf Arnsson, swear fealty to Taliesin the Stormlord. By sword and spear, I will protect his interests and be the most loyal of retainers. By the gods I so swear.¡±

    The other soldiers followed suit, repeating the simple oath. Taliesin said simply, ¡°I accept your fealty, and shall do my utmost to be worthy of such loyalty.¡±

    The growing refugee caravan had ceased all activity to watch the simple fealty ceremony. As the soldiers stood from their oaths, a young man wearing no armor at all but carrying cudgel walked over and knelt before Taliesin, and repeated the same oath. Then a woman wearing a sling and dragging a small boy followed suit. That broke the floodgates, and more than two thirds of the refugees crowded around and knelt.

    Taliesin looked over the crowd, and saw a scowling Katla standing next to a wagon, her arms crossed. Lady Solveig¡¯s soldiers stood beside her. Gunther caught his eye and waved happily.

    It was clear that whether or not he was ready for it, Taliesin had become a noble.

 Chapter 9 - Out in the Cold (Part 1)

    ¡°No one should expect anything from Archmages. They are too powerful to be ruled, too easily distracted to rule. At best they are an unreliable weapon that can be pointed in the general direction of your enemies in the hopes that they do some damage. A wise ruler should rather placate them with shiny toys and pray they stay in their ivory towers.¡±

    - On Royalty and Magic, Volume I

    <hr>

    The town of Buverik¡¯s impressive walls loomed ahead of her as Aina trudged back to town with her hunting party. They were spiked wooden palisades built atop a low stone foundation, just short enough to see the longhouses behind them. The spikes were intimidating, and the towers that stood at regular intervals only added to the oppressive feeling. She could see the shiny breastplates of the militia in the towers that flanked the gate. It was far larger than anything she¡¯d ever seen in her small village, and it was amazing to her that anyone could build something so big. More and more often it felt overwhelming and a little claustrophobic.

    The main gates were closed, as was normal these days, but the postern gate was still open. Aina patted the brace of rabbits tied to her belt, and made sure her tunic covered the hilts of her twin seaxes, long daggers tied crossways across her lower back. The seaxes were simple but brutal blades, thick on one side of the blade, but sharp on the other which gave them a remarkable amount of cutting power for their size. With her tattered cloak covering them, and a bow over her shoulder, she was sure the guards wouldn¡¯t notice them, as they nearly crossed the line from dagger into weapon. She didn¡¯t need to give the guards any more reasons to hassle her.

    ¡°Stop there,¡± said a bored guard as they approached.

    ¡°Baldur¡¯s balls, Galti, I¡¯m freezing. A blizzard is blowing in and I want a roof over my head,¡± grumbled Hjorvarth, the oldest of the hunters.

    ¡°Listen, the Jarl¡¯s dead and the sheriff is saying the family got killed by bandits. We¡¯re supposed to check everyone.¡±

    ¡°For what? The Jarl¡¯s golden drinking horn?¡± Most of the hunters and a few of the guards chuckled. They¡¯d all known each other for their entire lives. The decrees of a law speaker wasn¡¯t going to change that.

    Two of the guards waved a few of the hunters through, leaving only Aina and Hjorvarth who¡¯d argued with the guards. Aina stepped forward, but a massive arm came down in front of her and shoved her back. Her slender frame was too slight to compete with the massive man, so she stumbled back and nearly lost her balance.

    ¡°Not so fast, boy,¡± said Galti. ¡°You gotta pay to get into town.¡±

    ¡°No fee,¡± signed Aina resignedly, her hand movements obviously alien to the guard.

    ¡°He ain¡¯t got no pennies, same as last time, and the time before,¡± grumbled Hjorvarth, interpreting Aina¡¯s sign language for the gate guard.

    ¡°He¡¯s got two rabbits, ain¡¯t he?¡± retorted Galti.

    ¡°No. This is not mine. I have to feed my mother, you thief.¡±

    ¡°She said it¡¯s for her mother,¡± Hjorvarth selectively translated. He gave Aina a warning look that she shrugged off.

    ¡°Listen, you¡¯re a stranger here. If you want in, you gotta pay,¡± he said, with a mulish expression on his face. Most nights, Galti would settle for a little harassment before letting it go, but others he would get bullheaded. This night it was the horns, it seemed.

    Aina held up one finger.

    ¡°Both,¡± said the guard.

    With a shake of the head, she held up one finger again, then offered the smaller of the two rabbits.

    ¡°Move it, Galti. I don¡¯t know why yer so hard on the kid, but yer being a pain in my ass.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± said the guard, as he snatched the larger rabbit that Aina had been trying to keep for herself. This left only the small one. Aina stomped away with a dejected expression on her face.

    ¡°He¡¯ll come around eventually,¡± said Hjorvarth, who¡¯d been waved through right after Aina without issue.

    ¡°He¡¯s a bully and a fool.¡± signed Aina angrily.

    ¡°Yes, but he¡¯s a fool that¡¯s between the hunting grounds and safety. Best try and make nice with him.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± she lied, before waving farewell. She let the fake dejection fall off her face the moment her back was turned. The bitterness had been real enough, but Aina was far too clever than to let some dumb gate guard get the better of her.

    She walked through town, ignored by everyone and ignoring them in turn. Aina hated the entire town. Every last person in it was either rude, mean or condescending, and it¡¯s not like she even wanted to be there in the first place. She longed to be back in the village with her mother, but Ingollsfell was no longer safe. They¡¯d fled from kobold raiders, carrying what little valuables they¡¯d had and come to Beruvik seeking the safety of stout walls.

    At first, it looked as though they might be forced to sleep in an alley, resigned to selling off their possessions as more well-off refugees came in and drove up prices for food. But Aina¡¯s mother Dalla caught the eye of Bors, a local merchant, and accepted a respectable morning-gift to become his concubine.

    Bors¡¯ compound came into view. Bors wasn¡¯t very powerful, and was no warrior to need a grand longhouse. His home was large enough to have a poor-man¡¯s beam across it, to keep poor travelers from entering the private parts of the residence, and was finely furnished as was befitting a successful merchant. Behind it was Aina¡¯s goal, however, for she was unwelcome in the main house. She passed a cook shed, and set the rabbit down on the counter. From under her cloak, she pulled another rabbit, by far the largest of the three she¡¯d caught, and placed it next to the small one.

    The celtic thrall in charge of cooking for the house, Samuel, scowled at her but said nothing. The iron circle clasped loosely around his neck clearly put him well below Aina¡¯s standing, low as it was, so she passed him by unmolested. Aina had no trouble returning the disdain, and her petty vengeance for his hostility was to ignore him. He wasn¡¯t worth the effort.

    To her bad luck, Bors came outside then, and saw the rabbits.

    ¡°Two measly rabbits? That¡¯s the best you can do, ¡®oh great hunter¡¯? Boy, you¡¯d best start earning your place around here.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll work harder,¡± she signed, careful to keep her eyes downcast. Unlike the brutish gate guard, if she angered Bors, her mother would be affected.

    ¡°You always say that, but you always come back empty handed.¡±

    ¡°Not empty. Two rabbits. Food for two or three meals.¡±

    ¡°You mean it might add a tiny amount of meat to two meals, and I have to bring in the rest of the bread and mead. I swear, boy, you are truly useless. You and all the other country bumpkins come running into our town and demand food like you¡¯re worth even a crust of bread. In my youth I would have¡­¡±

    ¡°Ain, is that you?¡± came Dalla¡¯s voice from the pit house between the cook shed and the barn. Once it had been Samuel¡¯s place, a simple roof set over a pit in the ground, but now it housed Dalla and Aina. This relegated the thrall to the barn, and earned them his undying anger. Aina could feel the thrall seething with resentment beside him, but he was every bit as powerless as she was.

    Bors stopped his tirade as soon as Dalla appeared, a rictus of a grin appearing on his face. ¡°Dalla, darling!¡±

    ¡°Bors, my sweet! I thought I heard your commanding voice,¡± she said as she linked arms with him and gently led him towards the main house. ¡°I was hoping I could come by this evening, and hear tales of your last trade journey. We could sneak away after your wife falls asleep, and I¡¯ll make sure all your troubles are properly soothed¡­¡±

    Aina shuddered to hear the suggestive tones of her mother¡¯s voice, and walked to the pit house while Bors was distracted. She slipped inside to find the bed she shared with her mother was made up neatly, and the hard clay floor swept and tidy. A small hearth stood at the far corner, large enough to heat the room and cook on but small enough to not need much firewood. A lone pot stood in the fire, the flames well stoked and ready.

    The pot was filled with warm water, so Aina set to work on her dinner. While Dalla was welcome to eat at the main house, Bors was stingy with food for Aina. Coupled with the cooking thrall¡¯s hatred, Aina had little choice but to find alternatives. A few wild onions came from one pocket, while a lucky find of potatoes another. From a cupboard under the bed Aina pulled out a wrinkly old parsnip and some smoked rabbit meat. All of this went into the pot to cook.

    As her meal cooked, Aina nibbled on a dried crust of bread while she began skinning her last bit of find from her three days in the woods - a single, plump squirrel. When the fire died down, she¡¯d hang it in the chimney to smoke, replacing the tiny cache of meat she¡¯d just put in the pot. With any luck, her mother would come back with a basket full of food. For that, Aina would just have to ignore the smell of sex and Bors¡¯ sweat upon her.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Aina ate her meager meal swiftly, wary of any intrusion that might rob her of her scant ration of food. Then, with the patience learned from many long hunts, she examined the yard through a barely cracked door. The thrall was gone, probably in the barn, and the doors to the main house were closed up. The one shuttered window glowed warmly, and simple, cheery music and laughter could be heard from within. She slipped out to the jacks, where she was able to clean herself from a communal bucket of well water and rough lye soap. By the time she got back, her mother was seated on the bed. The basket of food Aina had expected was there, but lighter than usual. Her mother looked apologetic.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, he wasn¡¯t as generous tonight as usual. I¡¯ll try again tomorrow.¡± Dalla looked as though she was waiting for Aina¡¯s recriminations.

    Instead, Aina pulled Dalla into a hug and held her mother close. She tucked the basket away in the hidden place under the blankets, and tugged her mother under the covers where they could stay warm. There were no hard thoughts or harsh words, not now, when they had to be a team. Sensing that Aina wasn¡¯t angry, her mother pulled Aina into a cuddle, just as she¡¯d done since Aina was a small child.

    This maternal love soothed Aina for the first time in days. Aina had one person who loved her, at least. The human contact and unconditional love were everything to Aina, and it made all the tribulations of daily life worth it. She often wondered if her mother felt the same. Was having a mute daughter who was pretending to be a boy so they didn¡¯t starve to death enough for her? Aina secretly feared it wasn¡¯t. So when her mother sobbed quietly, she knew that even if she could speak, no words would be enough. Instead Aina just kept hugging her and pretended to be asleep.

    <hr>

    It was two days later before Aina was able to talk with Hjorvarth again. His Sky Forging gave him a passive Weather Sense, which warned that a major storm was coming. The conversation was brief, but Aina managed to secure a spot in the last big hunt of the season before true winter set in. They¡¯d head out after the storm blew past and hunt down a few deer in the deep wood. It was at least a week long journey, and Aina had finally proven herself enough, it seemed. Her Forging was very welcome amongst the hunters, and they were willing to give her a proper place instead of just letting her share their hunt camp. In exchange for her help, she was able to get an equal share of meat, to be given to her after they made it through the gates. She left Hjorvarth with a grudging respect for the old man. He wasn¡¯t exactly friendly - he was still a close-minded local, after all - but he was at least fair to her.

    When Aina returned back to the pit house, her mother was oddly still asleep. She shook Dalla¡¯s shoulder, and only got a grumble. She shook her again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel so good,¡± groaned Dalla, her eyes barely open. Aina reached down and felt her brow. Her mother was feverish and sweaty.

    ¡°Drink water. I¡¯ll get a doctor,¡± signed Aina.

    ¡°We can¡¯t afford a doctor,¡± said Dalla as she accepted a horn of water from Aina.

    ¡°I¡¯ll ask Bors.¡±

    ¡°Leave him alone,¡± said Dalla. ¡°I¡¯ll sleep and feel better in the morning.¡±

    For the rest of the day, Aina fretted over her mother. She fed her a thin broth at dinner, and made sure she drank water. There was little else she could do.

    The next morning, Dalla was delirious with fever. ¡°No doctor¡± was about all Aina could make out. Aina continued her ministrations, wiping her mother¡¯s brow with a wet cloth and forcing her to sip some soup. On the morning of the third day, Aina could take it no more.

    She banged on the front door of the main house, and a surprised thrall let her inside. Careful not to pass the poor-man¡¯s beam, Aina paced back and forth until Bors appeared.

    ¡°You have a lot of nerve, boy, showing up in my house. Where¡¯s your mother?¡±

    ¡°Very sick. Needs doctor. You help?¡± Aina signed slowly, using the simplest and easiest of signs so that the merchant could understand.

    ¡°You want my help? That¡¯s rich.¡±

    ¡°Not me. Mother.¡± signed Aina, clenching her jaws and trying to rein in her impatience. She couldn¡¯t make Bors angry. Not now, not when her mother¡¯s life was in the balance. ¡°Please. I beg you.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, well you¡¯re being properly polite, at least, and I do quite like your mother. I¡¯ll get the witch to come by and look at her.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, thank you,¡± Aina signed.

    ¡°Yes, yes, now get out of my house.¡±

    True to his word, the wisewoman came by to look at Dalla that evening.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been doing the right thing¡­. boy¡­¡± she smirked, but the gravity of the situation sapped her humor quickly. ¡°I gave her a draught that might help, but a plague has come into town. There are a dozen just like her. She only has a fair chance of making it. Keep your vigil and pray to your gods, for she is halfway to Hel¡¯s domain even now.¡±

    Aina had never trusted in the gods before, but she would do no less than her best. She alternated between caring for her mother and praying to whatever deity she could think of. Finally, around midnight, she collapsed beside her mother and slept.

    When she woke the next morning, Dalla was cold beside her. She¡¯d drawn her last breath while Aina was passed out from exhaustion, leaving Aina completely alone in the world. Bereft and completely heartbroken, she sobbed silently against her mother¡¯s torso.

    After some time, Aina screwed up her willpower and took care of her mother. She wrapped her carefully in her cloak, taking only her necklace as a memento. The animal tooth jewelry was carved into the shape of a hammer and hung from a leather thong. Aina wrapped it around her wrist, tying it like a bracelet. She left her mother wrapped up for the pyre.

    Once more she found herself in the main house, only this time her head hung low as Bors approached. She looked up only when he spoke, and simply signed, ¡°Mother died.¡±

    To his credit, however little she wanted to give him, Bors sat down in sudden shock and grief. The mean bastard had cared for Dalla, however stingy and cruel he was to Aina. He¡¯d taken them in because of his attraction to Dalla, which was better than freezing in an alleyway. Aina watched as emotions played across his face, before his expression steeled.

    ¡°Get out of my house and off my property. You¡¯re not welcome here, and if you come back, I¡¯ll get the town guard.¡±

    Aina shook her head emphatically. ¡°Five days. Funeral. For mother. YOUR lover.¡±

    Bors looked ready to argue, but then realized how it would look to toss out his concubine¡¯s son even before she was placed on a pyre and with her soul yet to journey to the gods. Everyone knew that Hel frowned mightily on those who interfered with funerary rituals.

    ¡°Fine. Five days, but then you get out.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m taking her morning-gift.¡± Aina knew an argument would start from this, but the morning-gift Dalla had earned by becoming a concubine was all that Aina could use to find a new place to live. She could sell the pig, and trade the nice clothes for a place to sleep for the winter. In the spring, she could leave the town forever, raiders be damned. She was done with this horrible place.

    ¡°What? I¡¯m not giving you her morning-gift.¡±

    ¡°Not asking. Mine. My mother¡¯s property is now mine.¡± Aina was frustrated, but it was hers by rights. The morning-gift was not Bors¡¯ property, it was Dalla¡¯s. Now it was hers.

    ¡°Listen, you scrawny bastard, I¡¯ve had just about enough out of you. I¡¯ll put up with you for the next five days, but I¡¯ll be damned by Hel herself before I let you take that morning-gift,¡± raged Bors, now towering angrily over Aina.

    ¡°THIEF.¡±

    ¡°How dare you!¡± Bors lost all control of his temper then, and lunged for her.

    When Aina was a scant ten years old, the gods had gifted her. She was the first in her village to be granted a Forging, and the youngest by far. Some of the villagers thought she¡¯d been blessed on account of her muteness, but most thought it was just another sign of how strange she was. The Motion Forging had appeared on her forearm regardless of what the villagers thought, and had gifted Aina with a natural grace and speed that any grown adult would have admired. In the years since then, this natural grace had deepened and improved to be downright supernatural. Aina relied heavily on this natural agility to help her move silently and hunt, but it wasn¡¯t her true gift. It was her second Forging that the gods had blessed her with just before the raiders appeared that truly made her welcome amongst the traditionally xenophobic hunters.

    Aina ducked backwards in a move that would have left most people falling flat on their backs. Just as she was about to lose the fight to gravity and Bors¡¯ raging fist was directly overhead where her torso had been a fraction of a second before, Aina reached up with both hands and grabbed on. With a lithe twist, she kicked off the ground while simultaneously yanking on Bors¡¯ arm, which vaulted her around him and feet first into the air.

    This had the effect of sending Bors toppling forward, so that when Aina¡¯s movement vaulted her upward, she gracefully flew over top of him in a slithering motion that defied logic. While still in mid-air, she tumbled in a smooth flip to land directly on Bors¡¯ shoulders just as he caught his balance.

    Before he could react, Aina had a leg lock around his neck. She whipped a seax from her belt and held its sharp blade tight to his neck.

    Bors froze, then slowly held his hands out as he reined in his temper. ¡°I may have been a bit hasty. My apologies. I¡¯ll leave you to your five days of mourning. But then you¡¯d better get out quick.¡±

    Sighing silently, Aina pulled the dagger back and popped Bors on the crown of the head with the pommel before putting the edge back to his neck.

    ¡°Ow! That hurts, you ass!¡±

    Aina squeezed her legs.

    ¡°Fine! Fine. Take the cursed morning-gift. You¡¯re making me rue the day I ever met you.¡±

    With a graceful roll, Aina tumbled off of Bors¡¯ shoulders and across the floor so there was five feet of distance between them. Bors spun with the hope of catching her before she could get away, but she was already out of reach with a blade in hand, and he was no true warrior.

    Deliberately, Aina pulled up her right sleeve, then her left. The Forging symbol of Motion was on one arm, and the Forging symbol of Earth was on the other.

    ¡°You¡¯re at the Second Forging?! How -¡± spluttered Bors, just now realizing who he had so completely alienated. People at the Second Forging were well respected and almost always found positions of influence as adults. One in ten may have a Forging, but only one in a hundred of Forged received a second one. They were the elites of any town or village, doubly blessed by the gods themselves. If she stuck around the town for the next few years, Bors had made a potentially powerful enemy.

    ¡°Morning-gift today. Five days, I leave.¡± Aina made the universal, two-fingered ¡°I¡¯m watching you¡± motion, pointing to her eyes then his. Then both Forging symbols glowed softly and Aina faded completely out of sight right in front of him. Her <Stealth> ability masked her so completely that Bors spun around trying to find her even as she slipped out the open front door.

 Chapter 10 - Out in the Cold (Part 2)

    ¡°Heard about your mother, kid,¡± said Hjorvarth as he paid her four full marks for the pig. ¡°I¡¯ll be at the funeral. So will the other hunters.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. Need a new place to sleep. Know anywhere?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll ask around. Town is pretty full these days. You don¡¯t have to worry for the next week or two while we¡¯re on the hunt, at least.¡±

    Aina nodded, her grief tight in her chest. She was grateful for Hjorvarth, even though his help was purely transactional. She had no one else. The people from her own village couldn¡¯t take her in, for they were refugees just as she was. Besides, most wouldn¡¯t bother to try. The townspeople were even worse, but at least she could buy a spot in a barn for the marks she¡¯d just gotten. She might even be able to trade her mother¡¯s morning-gift clothes and fabric for an attic space.

    That night, with most of her village¡¯s people in attendance, Aina lit her mother¡¯s funeral pyre. Normally, as her mother¡¯s daughter, Aina would have to speak. Instead, a priest from the town spoke on her behalf. The villagers listened to the generic eulogy and prayed for Dalla¡¯s soul to pass on to one of the better parts of Hel¡¯s domains. She¡¯d had a hard life, and done what she could. Hel would be merciful.

    That only left Aina¡¯s vigil. The rift between refugee and townsperson was never so obvious to her. She¡¯d been referred to as Dalla¡¯s daughter, but the locals thought she was a son. The priest was oblivious, and the villagers uninterested in Aina¡¯s deception. That left Aina free to act as she liked, with no one attempting to step in and act as her guardian or chaperone. Now, she had only four days to pray on her mother¡¯s behalf.

    Funerary prayers were traditional signs of extreme grief and desire to secure the best possible afterlife for the departed as possible. A beloved parent, love-matched spouse, or young child all typically warranted such prayers, and were typically done twice a day for up to five days. Aina wasn¡¯t close to any gods in particular, but she was a devout believer. She¡¯d been both cursed and gifted by them, and did not dare risk her mother¡¯s soul. The one good person in her life deserved the best afterlife Aina could win for her, so she resolved to long hours of prayer.

    Several hours in the morning and several in the evening on the first day left Aina feeling stiff and tired, muscles sore and a runny nose and headache. Sleep did little to help her recover but her resolve was unwavering. The second day was similar to the first, only the temperature outside was dropping. Aina had been forced to use one of the nice cloaks from the morning-gift that she¡¯d planned to sell, but it was a small price. She was strangely sweaty and didn¡¯t really even feel the cold when she went to sleep that night.

    On the third day, Aina barely dragged herself out of bed. She was feverish, but her mind was too muddled to recognize that she was ill. Instead, running on sheer stubbornness, Aina went back outside to continue praying. She wasn¡¯t sure which day it was, only that she had to keep praying. Her mind was stuck in a rut between delirium and grief, and could only fathom one goal.

    By the end of the day, Aina realized she¡¯d been crouched on the ground shivering more than praying, and had failed to take any break at all between the morning and evening prayers. She dragged herself to her feet and barely managed to stumble into the tiny pit house that would likely soon return to the cooking thrall. She fell into a deep sleep which she couldn¡¯t seem to escape.

    ¡°Are you dead, boy?¡± said the cooking thrall.

    Aina couldn¡¯t answer, only shiver. Samuel¡¯s rough hands searched her, and she felt her hidden pouch with her money being yanked away. She tried to protest, but could only groan in pain.

    ¡°Damn, not dead yet. Too bad, I can¡¯t have you surviving now. These coins will let me pay my man-price and get this damn collar off my neck. Sad for you, but good for me.¡±

    The world lurched around and suddenly Aina was being carried. She passed out at some point, only to be woken by voices again.

    ¡°He¡¯s dead, huh?¡± came Galti¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Close enough,¡± laughed Samuel. ¡°I¡¯m just going to toss him in a ditch. No one will miss him now that the village cunt is dead. I¡¯m sick of freezing every night in that barn.¡±

    ¡°Bors ain¡¯t gonna raise a stink?¡±

    ¡°That ass will just be glad he¡¯s gone.¡±

    ¡°Well, hurry up before the other guards get back. They are starting to get soft on the village trash. I¡¯m sick of it stinking up our streets.¡±

    Aina tried to struggle, but she was just too sick to move. She passed out again, only now she was in the snow. The good cloak she¡¯d been wrapped in was gone, leaving her only the ratty old one she¡¯d used while hunting. She felt her mother¡¯s necklace still wrapped around her wrist and was paradoxically grateful that the thrall hadn¡¯t bothered with a more thorough search. If she was going to die, she could at least go with the memory of her mother. Aina fell asleep just as the blizzard started, happy in the knowledge that she¡¯d join her mother soon, and she was out of that damned town once and for all.

    <hr>

    It was early afternoon before the caravan was ready to finally move, but move it did. Taliesin spent the morning talking with soldiers and villagers, men and women alike as his linked Ring of Health finished healing his arm and ribs. It seemed every person there wanted something from him - assurance, comfort, or authority. Several seemed intent on ingratiating themselves, while others simply wanted to meet the man they just swore themselves to. They¡¯d only had a single glimpse of the raw power at his fingertips, but in troubled times, it was a sliver of security they could cling onto after their previous protector fell in battle.

    Viggo, the caravan master, managed to secure a set of fresh clothes for Taliesin, proper winter clothes of good cut and quality that marked him as being noble, rather than the haphazard scavenged outfit he¡¯d secured from the bandit fight. The tunic was heavily embroidered and sturdy. The new cloak had a white fur collar and was stitched double thick, for which he was very grateful. The winter wind had come in with a vengeance that morning, freezing over the dampness left from Taliesin¡¯s storm and making everything that much more miserable for everyone.

    As the caravan began to leave, Taliesin climbed into Lady Solveig¡¯s carriage once again. Arbiter Katla glared at him from her seat next to the drover, and soon transferred that glare to Runolf, who climbed onto the footman¡¯s seat at the rear of the carriage. Lap blankets were the order of the day, soon spread across laps to try and retain what meager body heat escaped cloaks and thick clothing, and the added wool layers did help.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Gunther was fast asleep in one corner, while Lady Solveig stared out the window, withdrawn and solemn. The seat next to Gunther was open, while the one next to Lady Solveig was piled with trunks. They¡¯d managed to cram many more people in during their escape from the bandit fight, but somehow it felt more crowded with less people and more baggage. Nevertheless, it suited Taliesin, who settled in for his own nap. He¡¯d gone nearly two days without sleep, which was long enough.

    It was only a scant few hours later when Taliesin awoke to find the sun had set. The short days and long nights of winter were upon them. Yet the caravan had not slowed. Rather, they¡¯re still slow, they just haven¡¯t stopped, he thought to himself. Gunther was awake as well.

    ¡°Are we pushing through?¡±

    ¡°Not much choice. The roads are dangerous and Beruvik is close enough that we can get there by morning. It¡¯s not much of a town, but it is home, so they¡¯ll open the gates for us, even at night.¡±

    ¡°Small favors, at least,¡± said Taliesin. ¡°The sooner we¡¯re off the road, the better. The raiders will regroup and find us soon. I expect we¡¯ll see their scouts tonight.¡±

    Gunther frowned. ¡°So soon?¡±

    ¡°If not sooner. This has the hallmarks of a winter offensive. The more damage they can do before it gets too cold to move, the more the weather can work in their favor.¡±

    Gunther noticed the sudden somberness from Taliesin, as if someone had flipped a switch. While they hadn¡¯t spent a lot of time together, they¡¯d been crammed into a carriage for a number of hours so far. The normal demeanor for the man was one of quiet amusement, but that humor was gone at the moment.

    ¡°Perhaps I should work on more vestments. My defenses are weak, and by all that is holy, it is getting cold out there! I think I¡¯m going to start with a warmth enchantment on my boots.¡±

    Gunther smiled. ¡°Hey, if you¡¯re happening to be working on those, I wouldn¡¯t mind one myself.¡±

    Taliesin¡¯s humor seemed to return at that moment. ¡°Sure, but it¡¯ll cost you a few coins. I used mine up already.¡±

    Gunther looked confused until Taliesin tapped the torque around his neck.

    ¡°Ah, you need something to hold the enchantment.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but something like boots or a cloak don¡¯t take much. A small buckle or a brooch will do.¡±

    ¡°So why the coins then? We both have metal buckles on our boots.¡±

    Taliesin gave a roguish grin. ¡°You don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to work without a commission, do you?¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Gunther laughed. ¡°I hardly carry many marks on me. I should have a few pennies.¡±

    ¡°That works fine. I mostly need materials. Give me your boots.¡±

    A simple warmth enchantment took scarcely any time at all. The buckles on the boots were plenty large, so it wasn¡¯t difficult to [Shape] them and carve the appropriate runes into the metal. Taliesin enchanted one buckle to solely gather and store mana, while the other was used to hold the warmth enchantment. Initially, Taliesin wanted to simply warm the entire boot, but then thought better of it. Any snow that landed atop the boot would promptly melt, and become water. While most boots were reasonably waterproof, there was no need to push the luck with that one. It was better to just warm the inner boot soles, right where the feet would be.

    It scarcely took twenty minutes before he handed them back, and Gunther slid his socked feet into the boots with a pleased sigh. ¡°Now that¡¯s just lovely.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s lovely?¡± asked Lady Solveig with a yawn. She sat up from where she¡¯d been slumped against the carriage wall, and adjusted the wool and fur cap on her head.

    ¡°Our dear Taliesin here just put a warmth enchantment on my boots!¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± She sat up with a sudden interest, and spoke with a shy tone tinged with hope. ¡°Such a luxury to have warm feet. It feels as though mine have been frozen for ages.¡±

    Taliesin was charmed by her demeanor. He gave a wry smile to Gunther. ¡°Swap places with me, so I can help your beautiful mother.¡±

    Gunther frowned at his phrasing, but Taliesin put on his most innocent expression. Gunther couldn¡¯t help but notice the twinkle in Taliesin¡¯s eyes that gave away the lie, but couldn¡¯t think of a good response. Instead, propriety demanded he allow Taliesin to assist his mother. Taliesin was highly entertained by the confusion on Gunther¡¯s face as the competing instincts warred within the poor man.

    Once in his new seat, Taliesin motioned for Solveig to put one of her feet up in his lap, and began to regale her with a tale from his early days as he worked. The tale was light hearted and self-deprecating. Midway through the story, he swapped to the other shoe.

    ¡°... and so I wound up half-dressed, covered in mud and probably a fair amount of pig shit, standing before Duke Uther and the Merlin. The Merlin was mortified, but then the Duke turned to him and said, ¡®at least he brought back the flag.¡¯¡±

    Taliesin guided Lady Solveig¡¯s other foot back to the floor of the carriage as Gunther and Solveig laughed at the end of his tale.

    ¡°What I don¡¯t understand is where you put the weasel,¡± said Gunther.

    This time it was Solveig and Taliesin that shared a laugh, but Taliesin declined to answer the question. Instead, Lady Solveig shared a story of her own that wound up equal parts adventurous and raunchy, which left Taliesin highly amused and Gunther bright red.

    ¡°Mother!¡± he hissed as the story finished. ¡°That¡¯s not appropriate!¡±

    Lady Solveig shrugged, unrepentant. ¡°I may not have been a shield maiden, but I was no wilting lily either.¡±

    Gunther seemed poised to bicker with her, so Taliesin took the opening as a chance to get some fresh air. His own boots were now magically warm, and the small spattering of pennies that Gunther had coughed up would be [Shaped] into his next implement soon. For a noble, Gunther¡¯s purse had been surprisingly light. The hour was growing late, and the deceptive calm and comradery of the evening barely covered a distinct tension in the air.

    The carriage was moving at a slow walking pace, which allowed Taliesin to easily step to the ground and close the door behind him. Runolf stepped off the carriage to walk beside him. Snow was wafting down from the sky at a steady pace, with the wind swirling in a pattern that belied the storm pushing it forward. If he had a roof overhead and a warm fire, this would be the perfect night to share songs and tales with warmed cider in hand. He¡¯d even had a book of epic poems once that he¡¯d bought off a destitute noble. The book was an extravagance that even with his privilege he could rarely indulge in.

    ¡°How far from the next town are we?¡±

    ¡°Hoping to see the walls at any time now. Can¡¯t be soon enough. Some of the hunters are out looking for enemy scouts. No word yet, but they¡¯ve seen signs of travel.¡±

    ¡°With the weather coming in, it will be a mixed blessing. It¡¯ll slow any forces heading this direction but it¡¯ll make it harder for us to move. We can only hope to make the walls before any pursuit finds us.¡±

    ¡°And that they¡¯ll open the gates for us if we¡¯re being chased to the walls,¡± said Runolf with a snort.

    ¡°Oh, we¡¯ll get inside the walls. The only real question is if the gate will still be standing when we get through.¡±

    Runolf did a double-take at Taliesin¡¯s comment. After a heartbeat, he said, ¡°Of course, milord.¡±

    A flash of something in the corner of his eye caught Taliesin¡¯s attention. It was a faint hint of magic, in a place where no magic should be. He turned towards the side of the road, or at least what passed for one in these parts, and spotted an odd, snowy lump. The hint of mana emanated dully from the misshapen pile.

    ¡°That¡¯s odd,¡± said Taliesin, who walked over to the lump.

    Runolf drew his seax, the long dagger gleaming in the torchlight of the caravan. But Taliesin already realized what he was looking at. He flipped the small body over and felt for a pulse. Under the thin, ratty cloak and dirty clothes was a tiny measure of warmth. The pulse was thready but strong, and a faint moan of protest was barely audible.

    ¡°Runolf, get this child into the carriage,¡± ordered Taliesin. He turned to the carriage and shouted, ¡°Gunther! We need your healing!¡±

 Chapter 11 - Rear Guard

    ¡°He¡¯s no archmage. He¡¯s a damned fool.¡±

    - Hemlock the Shaper, Archmage

    <hr>

    ¡°I cannot do much for him,¡± said Gunther. ¡°He¡¯s been ill, that much is clear. I can heal away the exposure and fix the frostbite, although he¡¯ll be sensitive to the cold in his toes from now on. But whatever ailment weakened him so, he¡¯ll have to pull through on his own.¡±

    ¡°How old would you say the child is?¡±

    ¡°Based on size? Fifteen or sixteen, about to hit their growth spurt into manhood.¡±

    The child was small, scarcely past five feet tall, and thin in a way that implied way too many missed meals. Lady Solveig was washing the child¡¯s face gently with a cloth, her own lap blanket across his lap. Taliesin looked at the child, then cocked his head to the side with a renewed interest.

    ¡°Intriguing. Lady Solveig, if you wouldn¡¯t mind, could you please feel under the child¡¯s tunic, to see if perhaps there is a cloth wrapped around the torso?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± she paused, the washrag forgotten in her hand for the moment.

    ¡°Humor me, please.¡±

    Solveig reached under the tunic, careful not to disturb the blankets that warmed the child.

    ¡°There is. What.. how did you know this?¡±

    ¡°Because the child is not a young boy. The child is a young woman. She¡¯s binding her chest to pass as a man.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Hmm, not sure how I missed that,¡± hemmed Gunther. ¡°Not much experience with children, I suppose. In that case, she¡¯s likely older than I guessed earlier. Very malnourished though. She starved many times before her illness.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s easily solved with time and food,¡± said Lady Solveig lightly.

    ¡°It¡¯s strange, though. I¡¯m not sure why she bothered with the deception,¡± mused Gunther.

    ¡°Scouts! Scouts are returning!!¡± came a cry from outside.

    ¡°There are many reasons young women hide as young men. It could be something as simple as trying to hide from an unwanted husband or marriage, or as complex as preferring to be seen as a man. A woman¡¯s lot, especially amongst common folk, is rarely pleasant,¡± said Lady Solveig.

    With a supportive nod to Lady Solveig, Taliesin excused himself and stepped from the carriage. Viggo was running forward from his position at the front of the caravan.

    ¡°You heard the call?¡± asked Viggo.

    ¡°Word comes from the hunters,¡± said Taliesin as he spotted men racing from the woods. Taliesin began to walk swiftly to the tail of the caravan to hear the news as quickly as possible. Runolf fell into step on his right, and Runolf¡¯s band gathered just as swiftly.

    The scouts skidded to a stop before him and sketched a breathless bow - more of a shallow head bob, but the intent was clear. ¡°Milord Archmage, Master Viggo, Chief Runolf. The enemy approaches. The scouts are on our tail now. A dozen gnolls, not three minutes behind us. A warband follows behind them, half a hundred strong!¡±

    A few minutes of conversation followed, where Taliesin got a proper report of the enemy. The road they were on had cut over a hill and built across a plain that was now covered in snow. Irrigation ditches cut perpendicular to the road across the land periodically, which split the fields into rough sections by some non-intuitive standard that Taliesin couldn¡¯t divine. Viggo was certain the town was nearby, so they mostly had to hold against the warband long enough for the caravan to reach safety.

    ¡°So it would seem that they have found us.¡± Taliesin turned to see Katla when she arrived with the remaining half-dozen of Lady Solveig¡¯s guardsmen under her command.

    ¡°Men, form up!¡± shouted Runolf, and Taliesin¡¯s new varingjar took their place around him.

    ¡°When the scouts arrive, I¡¯ll scare them off. The caravan must push forward. The town must be close at hand. We will ambush the warband and buy them time.¡±

    ¡°Milord, how are we to do that?¡±

    ¡°Here¡¯s what we do,¡± said Taliesin, as he quickly sketched out a plan. ¡°Runolf, split your team on either side of the road in a loose skirmish line. Withdrawal point for a fighting retreat is here, then here. We¡¯re not holding the ground, we¡¯re slowing them down and inflicting enough injuries that they hold and regroup. I¡¯ll cast a minor illusion that will mask you, but it will break if you move too much or attack.¡±

    ¡°Include me too. The guards will remain with the carriage,¡± said Katla. She waved off the guards, who headed back to the caravan with equal parts relief and disappointment. They were still chewed up from the bandit fight then the desperate skirmish in the village.

    ¡°Good, you can hold the center with me. Save your Smite for any trolls or heavy hitters they might have.¡±

    ¡°Milord, what is the point of the illusion?¡± asked Runolf.

    ¡°We want them to charge at the ¡°undefended¡± caravan, not mass up for a proper skirmish. They¡¯ll be thinking of an easy slaughter and looting, not proper fighting. We can take out a number of them in the first few moments. But we blood them and retreat. We do not stand. If they don¡¯t break, we retreat. Are we clear?¡±

    Everyone nodded, and spread out along the closest irrigation ditches. Taliesin wasted no time casting the illusion, just before the enemy scouts came over the horizon. His men - his varingjar, he mentally corrected - vanished from view, instead appearing as small lumps of snow. The illusion wouldn¡¯t hold up to scrutiny, but should work just long enough for the enemy to commit.

    ¡°Ready?¡± asked Taliesin.

    Katla unsheathed her greatsword and gave a predatory grin under her helmet and horns. ¡°I am a warpriest of Freya. I was made for this.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Taliesin. He pointed at the closest clump of scouts, ready to scatter them in every direction so the warband wouldn¡¯t receive any accurate or timely reports. ¡°[Lightning Strike].¡±

    The smell of ozone filled the air as the aether shaped into Taliesin¡¯s spellform just inches from his hand, and shot towards the closest scout. The lightning shot forward and burned a hole through his target and two more of the gnoll scouts besides. This forced the others to scatter and run for cover. A follow up [Lightning Strike] through the trunk of a tree and the scout hiding behind it was more than enough to make the scouts flee instead of hide.

    Katla sniffed in disappointment.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Arbiter. You will bloody your sword soon.¡±

    The caravan was moving away at a renewed pace behind them, the knowledge that the enemy was near more than enough to hurry the tired refugees. They weren¡¯t panicking only because they couldn¡¯t. The wagons and pack animals could only move so fast, and the animals were just as tired as their owners, only without the understanding of the nearby threat.

    ¡°Are you going to cast that storm spell?¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t actually narrow it down,¡± said Taliesin dryly. ¡°My natural affinity is with lightning and weather spells. But I will not be casting the one that rains down lightning. I do not want the rainstorm that accompanies it, especially with this snowstorm that is starting. I would, more like than not, turn the snowstorm into a raging blizzard in the course of a few minutes.¡±

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    Katia¡¯s scowl lessened. ¡°Ah, that would not be helpful.¡±

    Taliesin paused and turned to look at the woman in disbelief. ¡°Wait, are you just making sure I don¡¯t kill off all your opponents? Are you some sort of combat lover?¡±

    ¡°Umm, Warpriest of Freya?¡± she said, pointing at herself with a tone that implied that Taliesin was an idiot.

    ¡°Right. Well, I¡¯ll assume that¡¯s a yes, and that I don¡¯t really understand the significance of being a Warpriest.¡±

    Their conversation died as the gnoll warband appeared on the horizon, cresting a hill in the distance and just barely visible through the drifting snow, dark shapes moving across the white field. The lead elements spotted Katla and Taliesin, with the caravan fleeing in the distance behind them, not quite out of sight. They yipped at each other in excitement, and several raised their spears and howled. They began to charge, and the gnolls appearing over the hill ran after them. In seconds, a flood of gnolls, easily numbering over a hundred, began running in their direction in a disorganized mob.

    Katla, for her part, began to pace back and forth, chanting under her breath in a tone that grew increasingly aggressive by the second.

    ¡°I¡¯m aiming at the right flank. Can you handle the left?¡±

    ¡°Got it,¡± Katla growled, her voice almost feral as she returned to her chant.

    ¡°Alright then,¡± muttered Taliesin. ¡°Here we go. [Lightning Strike]. [Lightning Strike]. [Lightning Strike].¡±

    The three rapidfire lightning bolts rocketed away from Taliesin¡¯s hands in three slightly different directions. The strikes were almost perfect straight lines, and burned terrible holes through their targets. One of the strikes petered out on the target¡¯s metal armor after it burned into the gnoll, and cooked him in its breastplate as it uttered a horrid scream. The other two tore through their targets¡¯ armor with ease and moved through the gnolls behind them.

    The line of gnolls didn¡¯t even slow or acknowledge the half-dozen dead and casualties from the three blasts of arcane might. If there was one universal rule between dimensions, Taliesin thought dryly, it was to get in melee range of magic users as swiftly as possible.

    ¡°[Plasma Arc].¡± A new lightning bolt formed, only this one spread from his hands in a thirty degree arc, and continued to spread as it sped towards the enemy. The bolt was scarcely a few inches thick, and crackled with deadly intent as it sped towards the enemy line at waist height. He could see the eyes of the front ranks of the gnolls widen in shock, with mixed reactions. Some dove under the wave of plasma, others froze in place, while some tried to leap over it. Those that hit the ground survived but exposed the ranks behind them to the plasma instead. Any who froze or didn¡¯t leap high enough were electrocuted.

    ¡°RRRAAAGH!¡± snarled Katla viciously, her battle cry echoing across the field. Taliesin turned just in time to see her charge, alone, at the eighty-odd gnolls that were now only a dozen yards away. Taliesin had no time to watch. The gnolls were now too close for most of his best spells.

    ¡°NOW!¡± He shouted, and on either side of the road, his varingjar leapt from their cover of illusions, and charged at the gnolls. The enemy warband had begun angling in towards Taliesin and Katla in a vaguely triangular formation, without any sort of proper line of combat. The varingjar took full advantage, with their own battle cries on their lips. The line of warriors collided with the flanks of the gnoll force, the ring of steel and thump of shields filling the battlefield. The screams of the gnolls soon followed, high pitched and yelping. The varingjar tore into the unprepared gnolls with a bloody vengeance, flipping the momentum of the battle in a mere instant.

    With the ambush sprung, the surprised gnolls were rocked onto the back foot, with some of the rear ranks pushing forward while the front line was trying to escape the massacre. Panic had set in and their already messy formation was unraveling. Taliesin decided it was time to add to the chaos.

    ¡°[Ice Darts].¡± A surprisingly basic attack spell used by weather mages, the [Ice Dart] spell created a shard of ice that flew with the speed and range of an arrow, but with magically enhanced accuracy. However, the more skilled the spellcaster, the more darts could be conjured. A solid dozen projectiles appeared above Taliesin¡¯s raised fist. He flung his hand forward, his fingers spread wide, and the frozen darts launched themselves forward at incredible speeds into the line of gnolls.

    Katla, for her part, was keeping the entire center of the gnoll line occupied single-handedly. Without sparing a thought to defense, the frenzied fighter shattered spears, tore through armor and gnoll alike, and left behind her only a pile of bodies and wreckage. The creatures veered away from her, forming a half circle on the road where none dared to be the first to face her. She wielded her greatsword with both skill and uncontained fury, almost as if she were incensed that the fight wasn¡¯t more difficult while also affronted that they dared challenge her. It was in that moment Taliesin understood why Runolf refused to fight under her command - it was nigh suicidal.

    ¡°[Ice Darts]. [Ice Darts].¡± shouted Taliesin. A gnoll spear flashed past his head, but a third casting of [Ice Darts] buried a half-dozen frozen projectiles into the gnoll¡¯s chest. Another two gnolls behind it got the remaining darts to the face. He spun in place and saw another group heading towards Katla¡¯s unprotected back.

    ¡°[Elevate]¡± intoned Taliesin. The gnolls lifted gently off the ground and were left hovering just a foot or two above the earth. They swung their arms and frog kicked in a swimming motion, but floated impotently just a few feet away from their berserker target.

    ¡°Katla! Big finish! Smite the center!¡± shouted Taliesin.

    Katla didn¡¯t give any indication that she¡¯d heard him. She spun in a wild circle, her greatsword moving unpredictably in a sweep that went from ankle to head height, and finished with her slamming the blade so deeply into the shoulder of the closest floating gnoll that she nearly bisected him diagonally across the torso. As the dead gnoll floated backwards, Katla flung her off-hand into the sky.

    ¡°<SMITE>¡± she roared, her voice booming with magic.

    A divine blast far larger than Taliesin had witnessed from Katla¡¯s Forging previously slammed into the center of the massed gnolls, a conflagration of power that shattered a dozen gnolls in a second and ruined any cohesion the warband may have had left. The gnolls broke and ran, fleeing in complete disarray. Their yips of pain were mixed with the clang of gnolls dragging away their injured or simply fleeing into the night.

    Katla immediately fell to her knees, the tip of her sword planted in the ground before her as both hands grasped the hilt. ¡°My Lady Freya, I dedicate this battle to your everlasting glory¡­¡±

    Taliesin ignored her prayer, having heard a hundred variations to Jesu Invictus on his old home world. The similarities were haunting and stirred up bitter memories. Instead, he walked over to Runolf, who was standing over a fallen warrior.

    ¡°Milord, I¡¯m sorry I failed you,¡± said the warrior on the ground. His gut was torn open, and he was bleeding heavily.

    Taliesin rushed to the warrior¡¯s side. ¡°[Healing Touch].¡±

    The modest spell staunched the bleeding and sealed the immediate wound, but the feedback from the spell told him this was a bandage more than a proper healing. He could only hope that it would buy them time to get the warrior to Gunther.

    In a soothing voice, Taliesin said, ¡°No need for that, warrior. We¡¯ll get you patched back up again. Then you can rejoice, for you stood the line against a hundred gnolls and prevailed!¡±

    Taliesin stood back up again, and motioned for Runolf to follow. ¡°Get some saplings cut for a stretcher, he¡¯s still badly injured. Did we lose anyone?¡±

    ¡°No dead, Milord, but several injuries. They¡¯ll make it to the caravan.¡±

    ¡°Good man.¡± They turned and spotted Katla climbing back to her feet. She removed her helmet, which, like her armor, was coated in blood and viscera. She swiped a finger through the mess and drew a bloody line on each cheek. Taliesin shared a look with Runolf, and both shuddered.

    ¡°I think I understand your reservations about her, Runolf.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, milord. Damned if she isn''t handy to have in a fight though.¡±

    <hr>

    It didn¡¯t take long for the men to organize themselves. It turned out they needed to carry two men on makeshift stretchers, for another had taken a blow to the leg and could not walk fast enough to keep up. Once they were situated, they had no issue catching up to the caravan. By the time they arrived, the spiked wooden palisade walls of Buverik were visible through the falling snow.

    Gunther climbed out of the carriage and immediately saw to the injured, and Viggo, the caravan leader, found places for them to ride on wagons. It took only moments before the wagons rolled once again, although Gunther was now riding a wagon next to the critically injured varingjar so that he could heal him with his Forging.

    As they approached the town, Taliesin was immediately unimpressed. The walls were just as flimsy as the village¡¯s had been, although they were noticeably taller. There was also a stone foundation, which was an upgrade as well, and multiple guard towers. The caravan rolled to a stop at the gate, so Taliesin walked to the front of the column to see why they were being delayed. Viggo was arguing with a gate guard at the top of the wall even as Taliesin stepped forward.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t just any group of refugees! The Jarl¡¯s daughter, Lady Solveig, and young Lord Gunther are in the carriage, and we¡¯ve got an Archmage traveling with them as well. Open the gates and let us through immediately. You don¡¯t want to rile the Jarl, or worse, anger an Archmage, do you?¡± Viggo shouted, his voice laced with frustration.

    Taliesin couldn¡¯t hear the guard¡¯s reply as the wind gusted at the wrong moment. Then Viggo started yelling at the guard again, when Taliesin raised his arm to silence him. He looked up at the mule-faced guard. ¡°Listen, boy, I will enter this town one way or the other in the next five minutes. This gate is to open now, for if it does not, I will burn it down while you stand atop it. We may have driven off the enemy for now, but we have wounded and these villagers need refuge before they return.¡±

    The guard looked prepared to argue, but Taliesin intoned [Shocking Grasp], which made lightning visibly electrify his hands in an intimidating manner. One of the other guards ran off the wall, and the gate began to open over the first guard¡¯s protests.

    ¡°That man has a death wish,¡± said Viggo. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a more stubborn, foolhardy sentry. The Jarl will be most displeased to hear of this.¡±

 Chapter 12 - Jarl of Buverik (Part 1)

    ¡°It is important to recognize opportunities when they present themselves. If those opportunities are stubborn and refuse to be revealed, an ambitious man must seek them out.¡±

    - Prince Harald Ivarsson, before his execution

    <hr>

    The town of Buverik was just as unimpressive as the town walls in Taliesin¡¯s eyes. He recognized he was jaded in that regard, for he had helped Duke Arthur build up Londinium into a shining beacon before rumors of demon-led efreeti armies reached their ears. It hadn¡¯t been perfect; in fact they¡¯d spent long hours discussing their so-called ¡®perfect city¡¯ that Arthur had hoped to found one day. This ideal city, one they¡¯d called Camelot, had been abandoned in the face of the overwhelming horrors that approached them and their world burned.

    Buverik was no Camelot. It was no Londinium, either. It was larger than Taliesin had expected, the walls sloping back and away from the gate at an angle that allowed more land inside the protective palisade than it looked like from the outside. The town was crowded with modest two-story houses that crowded the street but left narrow alleys between them. Behind them, Taliesin could see narrow gardens cramped with sheds, pit houses, and privies. Many of the homes had crude signs out front indicating that craftsmen lived and worked there, and that the main room on the first floor likely was a workshop or business. More than a few had regular drinking mugs hanging from a peg, indicating a tiny bar room or cramped drinking hole was available for those so inclined.

    Periodically, the crowded streets were broken up by larger longhouses. These longhouses seemed to have a much larger garden, and many more outbuildings, denoting the wealth and power of the family that owned them. They often had cooking sheds, barns, multiple smaller houses - both pit-style and above ground - and workshops for a variety of trades.

    What was most significant about the town was how overcrowded it was. There were far more wagons crammed against houses, far too many makeshift tents strung up in tiny gardens between outhouses and wood sheds. The longhouse gardens were mostly empty of these issues - the prerogative of the rich - but even there, Taliesin could see extra hands being put to work and more children than you¡¯d expect from a wealthy family. It was clear that his modest caravan was far from the first to show up from outlying villages, which wove a haunting picture of the gnolls¡¯ terror tactics.

    Gradually, the caravan wound through the cobbled streets and through the slushy, muddy snow to a more wealthy quarter of the town. Here the houses were replaced by larger longhouse compounds. There was a qualitative difference that was the sum of many small things. The longhouses were similar in size, but had more artistic and architectural flourishes. The subsidiary servant houses were all two stories with their roofs freshly thatched. The barns and workshops were tidy and well maintained, and their workshops tucked behind outbuildings to minimize noise.

    Finally, they wound up at the back of the quarter, almost to the town wall once more. This was the largest home Taliesin had seen here, and couldn¡¯t rightly be called a longhouse. It was rather a two-winged affair, with two long sections on either side of a large receiving hall. A large set of double doors were firmly closed, all the windows tightly shuttered against the weather. A dozen House Guards stood out front with a liveried elderly man but they did not stand alone.

    Arrayed before the doors were a dozen armed city militia and two well dressed men at their head. The less opulent of the two was fat and balding, who seemed to be sweating despite the deep cold. He held a stack of papers like a shield, and seemed ready to flee at the slightest provocation. The other was tall, stocky and gave off an arrogant, dashing air, with a square, lightly stubbled jaw and black hair highlighted by silver wingtips by his ears. He was dressed in finely embroidered clothes and a double belt inlaid with silver. Several ornate necklaces looped around his neck, while a plush cloak was elegantly draped over his shoulders to ward off the snow.

    ¡°Lady Solveig, Lord Gunther,¡± said Taliesin formally, ¡°you appear to have a guest at the door.¡±

    ¡°At the door? Why hasn¡¯t Brant let them into the hall yet?¡± said Lord Gunther in surprise.

    ¡°There appears to be an argument of some sort,¡± said Taliesin as Gunther stood as best he could in the carriage and crowded over to Taliesin¡¯s window. He shoved the curtain wide and gawked outside.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s Sheriff Hallfred. What¡¯s he doing out during such nasty weather?¡±

    ¡°My father should have let him in already,¡± said Lady Solveig with a frown. ¡°Stop the carriage, I want to get out!¡±

    The carriage rolled to a stop, more because they were in front of the house rather than because of Lady Solveig¡¯s unnecessary command, but it didn¡¯t matter. Taliesin stepped out to see everyone at the manor door had stopped arguing to gape at the caravan as it approached.

    Sheriff Hallfred stomped forward and began to scold Taliesin, only to sputter to a stop as he helped Lady Solveig step out of the carriage. ¡°What is the¡­ meaning¡­ of this¡­¡±

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    ¡°That is exactly my question, Hallfred. What is the meaning of this? Why are you seeking my father¡¯s hospitality on such a horrible night?¡±

    Hallfred blanched as Gunther stepped out of the carriage behind her. ¡°Hey, Hallfred! We made new friends! Has Archmage Taliesin introduced himself yet?¡±

    Taliesin gave a little finger wave, but stayed quiet. He had a sneaking suspicion that there was no good news to be had here.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. Archmage? Oh. Um, right.¡± Hallfred stumbled as his brain raced to catch up, but pulled himself together swiftly. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have terrible news, milady. Your father, Jarl Hofstad, passed away four nights ago. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    Lady Solveig staggered back as if punched in the stomach, but Gunther was there instantly to help brace his mother. She clung to his arm for a moment, and Taliesin could see tears in her eyes. But unlike the death of her good friend Landsman Varo, she did not fall apart. Perhaps because it was a parent, and children expect to outlive them, or because the Jarl had been ill and it was not unexpected. But Taliesin truly suspected she was not willing to appear weak before the sheriff.

    ¡°I see, thank you Sheriff, you may go. I will begin funerary preparations and send invitation for the ceremony. Then I will oversee the transition of the Hofstad Jarldom to Gunther.¡±

    ¡°Mother, no!¡± protested Gunther. ¡°You should take grandfather¡¯s title, it is only right!¡±

    ¡°Gunther, your grandfather and I discussed this,¡± she said gently. ¡°I¡¯ve neither the skill nor interest in leadership. He tried to encourage me to be his heir for years, but I was able to convince him to look one generation further. You have the right talent and temperament. You¡¯ll make a fine Jarl.¡±

    ¡°Once more, I hate to be the bearer of bad news. We¡¯d received word that you and Lord Gunther had been slain by bandits. I¡¯ve a proclamation from King Ivar naming me the new Hofstad Jarl, now that Jarl Arni has died,¡± said Hallfred apologetically.

    ¡°No!¡± screeched Solveig in outrage. ¡°Your effrontery will not be so casually accepted. What manner of bribes did you pay to trick the King¡¯s scribes into making such a blatant attempt to steal my House and holding?¡±

    ¡°I assure you, milady, it was no move on my part. It was not anticipated that the Jarl would pass on, but the King felt continuity of leadership was important in these troubled times.¡± Sheriff Hallfred looked properly humble as he gave his reply, his demeanor sorrowful at Solveig¡¯s accusations.

    ¡°Save the act for someone who believes you, Hallfred. We¡¯ll see about this proclamation once I¡¯ve had word from King Ivar directly. You can rest assured your proclamation is not worth the paper it is written upon. Now leave us to our grief, and prepare to swear your fealty to Jarl Gunther or so help me, your head will be on a spike before the week is out.¡±

    Hallfred turned red, but did not immediately back down. ¡°Perhaps you should instead look to your own future, Lady Solveig. It may be wiser to reconsider my proposition from last summer. I¡¯ve no issue with leaving Gunther as the heir, after all. I have no sons of my own.¡±

    ¡°Get the Hells off my property,¡± snarled Solveig in a low voice.

    His face flushed with anger for a fraction of a second, before smoothing back into a smooth, regretful pose. Hallfred looked at Gunther¡¯s hard face, and Taliesin¡¯s deadpan expression. There were no allies here for him to draw support from. So instead, he gave a long sigh.

    ¡°As you wish, Solveig. The offer is open, should circumstances force your hand. I¡¯ve long been a friend to your family, and an ally to your father. I would hope that relationship could continue.¡±

    Solveig ignored him and strode boldly past Hallfred and his guards. The sheriff stared after her for a moment, then motioned for the fat man and the handful of militiamen to follow as he walked briskly away. In moments, the entire entourage was out of earshot.

    ¡°Brant, can you send some men to assist the caravan? Is the old barn still empty?¡±

    ¡°Of course, milady,¡± said the elderly gentleman at the door. He hobbled over with surprising speed despite relying on a cane to walk. ¡°We had planned to tear down the old barn next week, but it is still free. It may be a bit drafty. I expect these are refugees from one of the villages?¡±

    ¡°They were Varo¡¯s,¡± she said sadly. ¡°He died defending them. Archmage Taliesin has sworn to see to their safety.¡±

    ¡°An Archmage, you say?¡± old Brant looked up at Taliesin. ¡°It¡¯s been awhile since we¡¯ve seen one of those.¡±

    ¡°Not since we were in court for Ivar¡¯s crowning, before Gunther was born. The Shaper was there for the event.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. What are you being called then, Archmage?¡±

    ¡°Being called?¡± asked Taliesin. ¡°I¡¯ve no formal title.¡±

    ¡°The men are calling him the Stormlord,¡± supplied Gunther.

    ¡°Ah, well, I do hope this weather is not your fault.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d hardly admit it if it was,¡± laughed Taliesin, amused by the majordomo¡¯s boldness.

    The old servant chuckled. ¡°I¡¯d best see to those refugees.¡± His expression turned somber once more. ¡°Milady, your father is lying in repose in his rooms. Rumor had circulated that you and your son had been slain by bandits, so we were preparing a proper bonfire.¡±

    ¡°What was the Sheriff arguing with you about?¡± asked Taliesin.

    The servant looked to Solveig, who nodded. Brant then answered, ¡°The Sheriff was demanding entry and claimed to be the new Jarl. He was planning to, and apologies, for these are his words, ¡®burn the old man so he could get to work fixing this town¡¯.¡±

    Solveig bristled once again, but Gunther put a calming arm on her shoulder. ¡°Peace, mother. We¡¯ll make it through. Brant, it seems we¡¯ll need to have a long conversation about what has happened while we were gone. Now, we are all road weary and the hour is late. Let¡¯s get everyone settled so we can sleep.¡±

    Gunther leaned over and whispered something in Brant¡¯s ear, then clapped the old man on the shoulder before turning back to the caravan.

 Chapter 13 - Jarl of Buverik (Part 2)

    Taliesin was so exhausted that he collapsed into the bed and fell into a deep sleep. He dreamt of the Void, and the long years of introspection that had forced him to deal with the loss of his family, his country, and his world. The familiarity of endlessly reconstructing spellforms soon replaced the bittersweet memories of a past forever gone, only to in turn become an endless magical tangle that he had to unweave. Only by reconstructing poorly made spells could he escape, but he could not make new spellforms faster than inefficient enchantments knotted themselves into a forest of corrupted and broken arcana. Just as he was about to be crushed by it, he snapped awake. The words of the elder Fate echoed in his head. He is unbound by prophecy.

    With a deep foreboding settled into his bones, Taliesin ran to the table in the unfamiliar room where a washbasin rested. With trembling hands he poured water from the pitcher, and with a simple motion stilled the water in the basin. Unbidden, images of death and destruction appeared in the makeshift scrying bowl. The world was unfamiliar to him, so he did not try to steer the vision. Instead, he let the divination run untamed. Cities burned through the north, monstrosities nested in crumbling ruins throughout the hellenistic nations of the Mediterranean. The stone cities of Kemet echoed silently as sand slowly covered their dead.

    This was the world yet to come.

    The vision faded. Taliesin took a shuddering breath, then dipped his hands into the water and splashed his face with it. He looked at his hands which still refused to stop shaking, before clenching them into fists. He did not know how he knew, but it was not imminent. It could be years or decades away. He still had time.

    A knock came to the door, and a soft voice sounded from outside. ¡°Milord?¡±

    ¡°Enter,¡± he said as he dried his face.

    Two young maids entered and bowed their heads. ¡°Milord, we¡¯ve been sent to assist you. A bath has been drawn, and fresh clothes provided by your man Viggo. Jarl Gunther invites you to break your fast with him when you are ready.¡±

    Taliesin pulled himself together, and let the slender girls lead him through the halls to a stone chamber. Once inside, the two worked in tandem to lather his face with soap and give him a proper shave. He stood when they were finished, happy to have two days of stubble removed. But then their assistance took an unexpected turn. One began to disrobe while the other tried to undo his belt. With a steady hand, he stopped the girl from unbuckling his tunic.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡±

    ¡°Milord?¡± asked the maid, her voice filled with uncertainty. ¡°We¡¯re simply to aid you in bathing, and anything else you may require.¡±

    While he may be many things, Taliesin was no mindless hedonist. The two young girls were scarcely old enough to work unsupervised, much less be willing bedding partners. They¡¯d been put up to this. He was not so mercenary as to take such girls simply because they¡¯d been commanded to entertain him. With an annoyed sigh, he gestured to the door. The two maids fled with obvious relief.

    Once he was alone and the door secured, Taliesin stripped off his dirty clothes before testing the water in the wooden tub. It was tepid but clean. Ah, damn, I forgot the spell for heating bathwater. Resigned to taking a mildly uncomfortable bath, he scrubbed himself as swiftly as he could. A short while later, clean and properly dressed once more, Taliesin made his way out to the central hall.

    The two wings of the manor were large, with an equally large receiving hall joining the two sides in the center. Behind the receiving hall was a proper feasting hall. Like most halls of the northmen, tables formed a massive horseshoe shape, open to the door. The head table was at the top farthest from the entryway, while massive hearths dominated the center between the tables, while still leaving room for entertainment or for receiving visitors. Most of the tables had an assortment of benches and wooden chairs, all of them covered in thick furs. The head table had a throne-like chair in the middle, with several padded chairs to each side for important personages and any the Jarl felt like honoring.

    Gunther sat at Jarl¡¯s place at the center of the head table, with Solveig to his right and Brant standing in front of the table. Katla was seated next to Solveig, while the seat to Gunther¡¯s left sat empty. A scattering of the old Jarl¡¯s varingjar were seated at the tables nearby, while others stood guard at the door to the receiving hall and another at the passage to the kitchens.

    ¡°Archmage Taliesin! I¡¯m glad to see you are refreshed. Would you care to join me for breakfast? Brant was about to share his accounting of the last few days.¡±

    Still feeling a bit shaken from his vision and the awkward encounter with the maids, Taliesin muttered an agreement, but ignored the offered chair to Gunther¡¯s left. Instead, he took a seat at the closest table on a bench, which made Gunther frown and share a look with Brant.

    Runolf and Viggo entered soon after and sat to either side of Taliesin. Brant motioned for a serving thrall, who came over with platters filled with braised meat, bread and cheese. Then he cleared his throat and began his report.

    ¡°Jarl Gunther, I¡¯m pleased to report that we are prepared for the funeral bonfire this afternoon. Your grandfather¡¯s body has been washed and prepared, and proper sacrifices to Hel have been made.¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Gunther looked to his mother uncertainly, but she merely nodded in acceptance. She looked tired, but resolved. ¡°Very well, Brant. We¡¯ll have the ceremony this afternoon. Now tell me what happened since my grandfather¡­ well¡­ since he passed.¡±

    ¡°I noticed your grandfather was acting sluggish the day after you left to visit the eastern villages. He had a few meetings but retired early. That evening, the servants came to tell me that the Jarl was not responding when they asked if he wanted his usual flagon of wine before bed. I entered and found that he¡¯d passed away in his sleep. I immediately called the militia to send a courier, who I sent after you.¡±

    ¡°We received no word, courier or otherwise,¡± said Solveig.

    ¡°Suspicious as hell is what it is,¡± muttered Katla.

    Taliesin interjected with a question of his own. ¡°The sheriff controls the militia?¡±

    ¡°The Jarl controls the militia,¡± corrected Gunther. ¡°The sheriff is charged with enforcing the Jarl¡¯s commands, and thus often uses the militia for those purposes. Hallfred is only allowed a personal retinue of five men, who must also aid the sheriff for collecting annual land rents and tax collection.¡±

    ¡°The Jarl has often given the sheriff a free hand with the militia,¡± offered Brant. ¡°A much freer hand these last few years as he got older. I suspect his influence within the ranks is far greater than you may realize, milord. Further, he sent a courier demanding we turn over the manor to him as the new Jarl a scant two days after Jarl Arni died. He claimed to have a writ from the King, much as he did last night.¡±

    Taliesin looked up from the slice of bread he¡¯d been slathering with soft cheese. ¡°That is suspicious timing, indeed. When would a courier have potentially reached you?¡±

    ¡°No later than two days ago,¡± replied Gunther, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Are you saying he stopped the courier from reaching us while he made his bid for power?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m suggesting the courier went exactly where the sheriff instructed them to go.¡±

    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t!¡± protested Solveig. Then she paused, and spoke quieter. ¡°No, he probably would. That backstabbing traitor!¡±

    ¡°Mother? I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Brant spoke up instead. ¡°Milord, Archmage Taliesin is suggesting the sheriff paid the bandits to attack you, and used the courier to communicate with them. But he miscalculated, or was just too impatient. He didn¡¯t anticipate you would survive, and rushed to claim the Jarldom and the holding before he received confirmation.¡±

    ¡°So why press his claim after we arrived?¡± mused Taliesin. ¡°He must still believe he can prevail. Tell me, are your grandfather¡¯s varingjar now sworn to you? Do you have enough men to contest the militia in a straight fight?¡±

    ¡°I trust my grandfather¡¯s varingjar with my life. They¡¯ve faithfully defended us for my entire life, and are blooded and true members of House Hofstad. I¡¯ve no doubt they will renew their fealty after my grandfather¡¯s funeral. As to how they would compare to the militia? That is difficult to answer.¡±

    ¡°I could shed some light, if I may,¡± said Brant. ¡°The militia are trained to man the gates and defend the walls. Many only serve part of the week, while most of their time is devoted to their own professions. Our varingjar, however, train daily for war, and are the best our holding has to offer. They and their families live on the manor grounds, and help make our House what it is. Their skill cannot be matched by militia at even two to one. Additionally, Arbiter Katla serves our House, and is at her second Forging, and Jarl Gunther is a healer at the second Forging as well. We have also attracted many men with their first Forging as well, with superior pay and benefits to what the militia offers. When looked at in total, that is not a small amount of power.¡±

    ¡°We would crush the militia in a direct fight,¡± said Katla, clenching her fist to emphasize her point, which made the emberling¡¯s horns sway. ¡°The manor house is well fortified, and we have an armory and plenty of provisions.¡±

    ¡°The real fear is that the fight may not be as lopsided as one might anticipate,¡± said Brant cautiously.

    Gunther nodded. ¡°Obviously, the Sheriff believes otherwise. Which brings me to a topic I wished to broach with you, Taliesin. Let¡¯s discuss what it would take to bring you under my banner.¡±

    Taliesin mentally nodded, for this conversation was inevitable. Their alliance had been a haphazard sort brought about by mutual need for survival. Now they were back in Gunther¡¯s seat of power. He saw Viggo frown next to him.

    ¡°Jarl Gunther,¡± said Taliesin formally, for this was not a friendly chat in a carriage on the road between towns. ¡°While your hospitality has been unmatched, I¡¯m unwilling to consign myself to the rule of another. I am willing to discuss extending and perhaps formalizing an alliance between us. Considering the situation with your rogue Sheriff, this would be most beneficial to you.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Gunther with a slight frown. ¡°Are you not overvaluing the service you offer? You are bereft of enchantments, penniless, with a horde of refugees that need shelter and food. I daresay I can offer far more generous terms than you can expect from another Jarl, and can promise your refugees are seen to and your needs met. You would be free to do¡­ whatever it is Archmages do with their time.¡±

    ¡°Milord Jarl, please excuse my presumption,¡± spoke Viggo before Taliesin could respond. ¡°Perhaps you did not get a good perspective of the Stormlord¡¯s actions in Landsman Varo¡¯s village. Ill-prepared, bereft of enchantments, as you say, he single-handedly turned the battle from a slaughter into a rout. Then he organized and safeguarded the very caravan that escorted you here, and successfully defended it against a second enemy warband. I¡¯d say he¡¯s more than proven his value.¡±

    ¡°That does not yet preclude the issues of monetary need or the refugees from said caravan,¡± countered Brant on behalf of Gunther.

    This used to be me negotiating on behalf of Duke Arthur. Taliesin shared an amused look with Gunther, and by silent agreement allowed their stewards to dicker and deal on their behalf. After a significant debate and a fair amount of figurative and literal horse trading, an agreement was hashed out. The essence of the deal was that Taliesin would ally with the new Jarl at least through the Sheriff¡¯s rebellion, and render magical aid in the defense of the town. The Jarl would feed and shelter Taliesin and his varingjar, as well as the refugees in payment.

    When the debate got down to arguing over a handful of marks, Taliesin stood. ¡°I¡¯m satisfied with the deal as it stands. Jarl?¡±

    Gunther stood as well. ¡°Agreed.¡±