ã€ŠUnfought Wars [Time loop Action Fantasy]ã€‹


 Pre-launch hype!

    Thanks for being here! The adventure will start on Monday 24th February, when I will publish the first five chapters to get us rolling. After that, new chapters will drop Tuesday through Friday each week until the whole first book has been posted.

    What to expect

    - Genre: Fantasy with time loops

    - Characters: Young protagonist, fully developed cast

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    - Themes: Growth and learning, moral choices, consequences

    - Magic: Powerful artifacts, showy magic usage

    The Mountain Ride is the first book of the Unfought Wars series. Locke¡¯s story spans the first three books. Book Two will be posted here after a brief hiatus. During the hiatus, I will be posting commissioned art from the story and maybe bonus content to tide us over the break. The books will also be published as ebooks and physical copies, but they won¡¯t be stubbed any time soon, so you will have time to finish each book here, no worries.

    As a bonus, here¡¯s the full cover art featuring Locke on his different jaunts.

 Chapter 1 - The Hunt Begins

    The sunlight filters into my eyes through the leaves. I let my breath out slowly and try to find the monster in the deep summer green of the forest.

    Lille puts a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Locke, to the right.¡±

    I keep still, fixing my eyes on the wall of trees. A breeze blows through the forest and moves the branches, blinding me momentarily. I blink and squint against the light. At least my hair isn¡¯t in my eyes anymore, since Gran cut it short just yesterday. I finally see the monster, surprisingly close, blending into the colors of the forest. I flex and relax my arm in preparation and reach back to slide an arrow out of the quiver as quietly as I can.

    The teratome stands still. The only movement is its flesh quivering and undulating as it breathes. The wheezing reminds me of old bellows, creased leather sticky with age.

    It stands as tall as me on five fleshy stalks sprouting from a central mass that resembles a giant earthworm. At its front, it has a canine muzzle that splits halfway up its length. It has killed a deer, probably caught it by bursting out of the ground. The carcass lies mangled under it.

    I hesitate, trying to decide where to shoot. Larger animals I take down with an arrow through the heart or lungs in front of the shoulder. Rabbits and other small game directly in the head. Birds below the wing. Quick, efficient, exactly like Lille has taught me.

    With teratomes, everything is more difficult. The monster digs into the carcass. A muzzle on a worm would be disturbing enough, but teeth like giant human molars make it even worse. As it chews, stringy muscles flex rhythmically up and down its length, stretched and threaded on top of the ringed body. There is no telling where its vital organs are or if it even has any.

    I ready the arrow, nonetheless.

    Lille¡¯s hand squeezes my shoulder. ¡±Wait.¡±

    I freeze, years of training making me stop at her lightest signal. I wanted to call the shot, kick things off myself this time, but there¡¯s no arguing with her. Her mouth is a thin line, but the tension doesn¡¯t reach her eyes. She could be from a story. Not any taller than me, but strong and quick. Her hair the colour of dirt and bark, her skin tanned and windblown. She¡¯s around fifteen years older than me¡ªa hunter in her prime. In anyone¡¯s prime. There are few who are as good as her.

    Something rustles to the right of the monster. It has to be Bann. He was supposed to circle around, keep his distance and be ready to pin the monster between us. He¡¯s always stepping on or stumbling into something, but this time it doesn¡¯t matter¡ªwe¡¯re ready. Lille winces all the same. The teratome raises its muzzle. It has no visible eyes or ears, but it twists its upper part around like it¡¯s trying to see what caused the noise.

    ¡±Now!¡± Lille says and flicks her fingers at the monster.

    I shoot. The arrow strikes one of the monster¡¯s hind legs. It punches straight through, making a weird squelching noise. The leg gives way and the back half of the worm crashes to the ground. The beast shrieks. Out of anger or pain or air squeezing out of its body, hard to say with teratomes.

    Bann rushes out of the bushes, snapping twigs and kicking clots of earth into the air. He¡¯s taller than me by a full head and at least as much wider, a mountain of a hunter. His jaw is clenched and his arms squeeze his spear. He stabs at the beast repeatedly, every pull of the spear releasing a spurt of dirty, off-red blood. Bann dodges and weaves to stay as far away from the splatters as possible. Teratome blood is not always toxic, but you never know.

    Teratomes are the worst.

    Lille kicks at the ground and propels herself through the space separating me and the beast. Everything moves in slow-motion compared to her. On the way, she throws a hatchet that passes Bann and lands on the, for lack of a better word, neck of the worm. Bann yelps, his eyes moving from the hatchet to her.

    I know there was no chance that Bann could have stumbled into the way of the axe. I saw him leaning back from the monster, balanced on his heels when Lille threw, and I know she saw it too. I wouldn¡¯t try something like that, but maybe I will once I have as much experience as her.

    Bann keeps backing away and Lille stops her charge and steps to the side. I hesitate, then snatch a new arrow. I put it through a front leg this time, on the same side as the injured back leg. The monster bellows and topples over to one side. The sound is like a giant blowing into a massive bottle. It makes my insides thrum.

    I bound toward the toppled monster, readying the next arrow. Bann charges in, too. We¡¯re rushing to impress her, while Lille holds back, watching. Even with the monster down, it takes time to finish it off, sweat soaking through our clothes as we take it apart. Teratomes are the worst.

    <hr>

    Bann is gathering kindling for burning the carcass. There¡¯s nothing you can use teratomes for. They can¡¯t be eaten or fed to any animals, they can¡¯t be used as fertilizer, and you especially can¡¯t leave the corpses lying around. Burning is the surest option. No chance of something wriggling away and growing up into something even more annoying. In principle, teratome blood could be used for its healing properties, but in practice, you¡¯d need to be both desperate and stupid to resort to that.

    I feel like saying something, so I clear my throat. ¡°Thanks for giving me the shot.¡±

    ¡±You took a moment to catch on,¡± Lille says. She¡¯s squatting next to the corpse, cutting samples to sell to the city wizards later.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡±Sorry, I was still thinking how you timed the throw so as not to hit Bann.

    ¡±Saw it, eh? Good.¡±

    Bann steps into the clearing with branches and twigs stacked before his chest. He looks at us, squatting next to the monster¡¯s corpse, and beams. ¡±We got it good!¡± he yells.

    Lille¡¯s hands stop. Only her eyes move slowly to meet mine. She¡¯s physically looking up at me, but I can see how she doesn¡¯t think highly of either of us at the moment. ¡±We got it,¡± she says finally.

    Bann dumps the wood from his arms into the pile next to the teratome. He then hisses and jumps sideways for a step, before stomping on what looks like an eyeball made of meat rolling on the ground.

    Lille turns her back to me and gazes at the nearby trees. ¡±Get it burning,¡± she says, eyes sweeping the clearing. She takes a couple of long strides to brush past me and jumps. She catches onto a branch and pulls herself up, disappearing into the canopy. The rustle is surprisingly quiet. Her smell¡ªwarm leaves in the sun¡ªlingers for a moment.

    Bann whistles and raises his eyebrows. He turns his massive head back toward the carcass and strikes the flint. Sparks fly and dance in the dry grass.

    I¡¯m still flushed after the hunt. My heart thrums and my mouth is dry. I fold my arms tightly to hide their shaking. Hunting teratomes isn¡¯t glorious, I tell myself. It¡¯s a chore that has to be handled. A dangerous one, even if I want to laugh and pump my fist in the air at the moment. This is the second time I got pulled in to participate, but I¡¯ve listened to enough stories to know that even experienced hunters get surprised fighting them every once in a while.

    We¡¯re not experienced hunters. We¡¯ve been trained well, but we¡¯re still raw, green. Around here, there¡¯s more to hunting than shooting rabbits or checking traps. Every hunter is responsible for keeping the wilds safe, and often that is the more dangerous and weird part of the profession.

    Bann backs away from the fire as it gets going. He kicks at the spear¡¯s butt, flipping it up from the ground. He grabs it, pokes the air a couple of times, then huffs and jumps back like dodging an attack. ¡°This was even easier than the last one! We¡¯re getting good!¡±

    I chuckle and keep chuckling as the tension leaves me. Two successful teratome hunts in under three months is nothing to sneeze at. We did do good. Even if hunting them is dirty and dangerous, it feels good to do something useful, necessary.

    There¡¯s movement from above. Lille lands silently, almost brushing Bann as she does. Bann startles and my laugh turns into a cough. She was on the other end of the clearing and I thought she couldn¡¯t hear us.

    Still, even she smirks now. ¡°Come on, you two. Let¡¯s get upwind. You don¡¯t want to be breathing in that smoke.¡±

    <hr>

    The carcass blubs and sputters. We¡¯re steadily backing away from the fire as the smell gets worse and worse. The fire has reached some new organ or something inside the thing and the smoke has turned thick and black. The smell is like rank oil on my tongue.

    Lille runs a blade over a whetstone. She¡¯s been doing it for a while. The hatchet should be sharp enough already, but she keeps going. Bann has been keeping an eye on the fire, and now chucks the final branch on top of the pyre. He stands up, dusts the bottom of his pants and points at the place where the pile of firewood was. Lille waves a hand toward the forest. Bann nods and disappears behind the trees.

    The scrape of steel on stone stops. ¡°Locke.¡±

    I¡¯m lost watching the corpse burn, but something in her voice snaps me back.

    ¡°The Janitors are going to contact you soon.¡±

    ¡°Janitors? I didn¡¯t know there were any in the village.¡±

    Lille shoves the whetstone back into her satchel. ¡°Not the village. From the city.¡±

    Ah. My eyebrows knit together. It makes even less sense. Why would the janitors from the city be interested in me?

    ¡°They tell me that I have consistently recommended you out of all the young hunters.¡±

    ¡°They¡­ tell you?¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t explain it to me properly, so I can¡¯t explain it to you, either. Just ask him yourself.¡± She points a finger at me.

    I smell ozone, like the air after a lightning strike. I open my mouth to ask Lille what she means, but notice she¡¯s pointing the finger past me.

    A hand settles on my shoulder and someone clears their throat lightly. I jerk forward to dodge away. The thought of sweeping a leg behind me or going for my throwing knife flashes through my mind. The hand pushes me back down exactly as I start to move.

    ¡°Relax,¡± a man¡¯s voice says.

    The voice is unfamiliar, the word spoken with such ease and confidence that I reflexively follow the order and lower my shoulders.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. The reaction is worth it every time,¡± he continues, sounding amused. The hand squeezes my shoulder and lets go.

    Lille is not amused. Her scowl hardens, but before she can say anything, the man continues. ¡°Please, I will talk to Locke alone.¡±

    It¡¯s not a question. Lille¡¯s nostrils flare, but she stands up. She slides the hatchet into its loop on her belt and turns to go. ¡°I¡¯ll find Bann. We¡¯ll be back once you¡¯re done.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be done before you¡¯re back,¡± the man says. His tone sounds like he¡¯s correcting what Lille said.

    Lille¡¯s shoulders rise up and hands clench into fists, but she keeps walking.

    I finally crane my head to look at the man. He¡¯s about my height, so not very tall. I¡¯m surprised that he¡¯s not even looking at Lille. His gaze floats somewhere above the canopy, on the clouds. His outfit is like a combination of working overalls and a parade uniform, made of coarse, sturdy cloth covered in golden runes on nearly every surface. It includes a cowl and a cloak, even more heavily inlaid with complex runework. The smell of ozone lingers around him, like he¡¯s wearing it as a cologne. I know enough about magic to realize that creating the outfit must have cost more than what our whole village is worth. The exception to the extravagance of the outfit is the amulet pinned to his chest. Made of dark, simple cast-iron, it¡¯s shaped like a compass, its needle pointing east.

    ¡°I¡¯m from Tenorsbridge, as you¡¯ve already put together. You¡¯re needed, Locke. We need you. All of Velonea needs you.¡±

    Things are moving too fast to comprehend. I turn to face the man so we can speak face to face, but he¡¯s still looking at the clouds, not at me. His hand is in his pocket, his fingers fiddling with something in there.

    ¡°There is great tragedy and war happening that you haven¡¯t heard of yet. Even the rumors haven¡¯t reached your village. Hundreds are dying. Thousands will die. Tens of thousands, unless we stop it.¡±

    My mouth is agape. He¡¯s speaking like he¡¯s reciting something from memory, eyes scanning the sky, a smile flickering on his lips. Who is this guy and does he really expect me to¡ª

    He snaps his gaze to me and his face suddenly turns alive. ¡°I¡¯m a Janitor. The caretaker of this world. I don¡¯t have time for pleasantries. Not here, not now.¡± His eyes are hard as he spits out the words.

    I forget saying something flippant, defiant or incredulous like I was going to. Now that he¡¯s looking directly at me, the intensity of the man washes over me. His eyes are like two dark beads, under a tightly knit brow.

    Suddenly, his face softens and his shoulders relax. ¡°Locke, I will explain everything to you once we¡¯re in Tenorsbridge. This is the adventure you are secretly yearning for.¡±

    A cold flush goes through my body. My heart pounds a single heavy strike in my chest before the man continues.

    ¡°I¡¯m called Lictor, War Janitor of Tenorsbridge. You have until sundown to say your goodbyes. Make them count.¡±

 Chapter 2 - When Janitors Call

    Lille walks ahead of me, seething. Her shoulders are tense and even her ears look like she¡¯s clenching her whole face. She hasn¡¯t said a word during the whole trip back. She left Bann tending the fire and I have to run to keep up with her.

    ¡°Wait, why are we in such a hurry?¡± I shout after her.

    She doesn¡¯t even slow down. ¡°They¡¯ve given you a couple of hours to sort out your things.¡±

    ¡°Are you angry at me?¡±

    Lille stops. ¡°No.¡± She starts walking again, slightly slower this time. ¡°I¡¯m just angry.¡±

    I don¡¯t say anything. She doesn¡¯t either, only keeps on marching. This time there are no small educational observations about the surrounding forest or questions to test if I still remember the previous ones.

    I can¡¯t handle the silence anymore. ¡°Who was that man? Where did he come from? Where did he disappear to?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s something new from Tenorsbridge. First time I see him, but I¡¯ve met two others. They call themselves the Janitors.¡±

    She keeps walking.

    I follow. We¡¯re located near the city, so it sort of makes sense, but none of the wizards ever visit. Someone once hired a group of hunters to look for teratome parts, but that was years ago. ¡°Why did they pick me? What have you been telling them?¡± I can¡¯t completely hide the pride from my voice. Lille rarely praises anyone. I ache to know what she¡¯s been saying about me, even though I know she¡¯ll downplay it.

    ¡°Nothing.¡± Her answer is a hiss, spoken through clenched teeth.

    ¡°I thought you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± she repeats. ¡°They claim they¡¯ve talked to you even if you only met. They told me things I would have answered, had they asked. And they obviously know what to say to make you do what they want. Don¡¯t talk to me about them. You can ask them yourself and if they answer, it¡¯s because they decide that it¡¯s the best option for them.¡±

    We stomp through the forest in silence. I have never seen Lille like this. Thinking about the Janitors must have really gotten under her skin. I haven¡¯t seen anything else manage that before.

    What have I got myself into?

    <hr>

    Ral, the elder, slaps his huge hands together with a boom when he sees us approach. ¡°Bann finally got eaten, eh?¡± He grins like a wolf, his face a landscape of deep lines and crags. He¡¯s old as dirt, but he could still snap me like a twig if he got his hands on me. I know this for a fact because he¡¯s taught me how to fight barehanded. It¡¯s not something that a hunter often has to do, but he still insisted I learn. I suspect he just likes throwing me around.

    Lille snickers, throws herself on a chair, and starts to take off her boots. ¡°He¡¯ll be coming in later.¡±

    ¡°Shame. Everything went well?¡±

    ¡°Yes. You were right. The kids are growing up.¡± Her mouth twitches, and she pauses with one boot in her hand. She nudges her head at me. ¡°They came for Locke, as they said they would. He has until tonight.¡±

    I listen in silence. If the city wants something, they would obviously go through our elders. Equally obviously, I¡¯m not included in the discussions that the village council has, not even if the discussions have something to do with me. That¡¯s not the part that surprises me. I¡¯m shaken that I am the one who has been chosen. I know I¡¯m good, maybe even very good, but Bann and Lian come from the city and have connections and Hendrik is older and has more experience.

    Yet, the Tenorsbridge wizards are interested in me. More importantly, Lille has recommended me. That thought alone makes my chest swell with pride, and the corners of my mouth draw up. I deflate as Lille throws me an annoyed look, like she heard me grinning.

    I can¡¯t read the expression on Ral¡¯s face. His brow is furrowed, but there¡¯s a hint of a smile and something in his eyes that makes me nervous. Is he frightened? ¡°Well, if what they have been telling us is true¡­¡±

    Lille grimaces. ¡°End doesn¡¯t justify the means. Either of us should be the one¡ª¡±

    I snap, finally. ¡°What is going on! Who are they?¡±

    ¡°Quiet, boy.¡± Ral¡¯s not angry like Lille. He says the words almost sadly. He lifts up a massive hand to silence my objections, but doesn¡¯t continue. He turns his gaze to Lille.

    After a moment, Lille turns her eyes away from him and grimaces again. ¡°Locke,¡± she says.

    I snap my attention to her. Her voice is quiet whereas my hands are shaking. The pride of being chosen is starting to crumble the more I sense the tension between her and Ral.

    ¡°Soon, you¡¯ll know more about everything than we do now.¡± Lille points at the door behind her with her thumb. ¡°Go, meet your friends. Say goodbye to the matron. Get anything you want from the kitchen for the road.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    Ral crosses his arms over his chest. ¡°You heard her.¡± There¡¯s a creak from the back of his leather jerkin as he flexes. ¡°This is city business. It¡¯s out of our hands. Try to come and meet me before you go.¡± He gives Lille a warning glance, and she presses her mouth into a tight line.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    My gaze moves from Ral to Lille and back. They look back at me. The moment stretches, but finally I turn to go. I can¡¯t win a staring contest against those two.

    When I start walking away, hesitation drops away step by step and I let the smile spread across my face.

    I¡¯m going on an adventure!

    <hr>

    Durn narrows his eyes at me. ¡°That¡¯s too far.¡±

    ¡°Anything, she said!¡± I say, pointing at the sausages. ¡°You are welcome to ask her.¡±

    ¡°I will ask her. But why all the provisions? You going somewhere?¡±

    I can almost smell them from where I¡¯m standing. Bear is reserved for celebrations or other special occasions. Judging from Lille¡¯s and Ral¡¯s reactions, today is pretty special. ¡±City business. I¡¯ll know more later tonight. They came for me personally!¡± Lille isn¡¯t around, so I say it with a flourish and raise an eyebrow at him.

    ¡±City?¡± His face stops mid-frown. ¡±Oh, that.¡±

    Something changes in his expression. As steward, Durn would know something about the situation, at least more than I do.

    Before I can ask anything, he turns away and reaches for the thick links of marbled sausages. ¡±The city and their business are not for people like us. You¡­ take care there, kid,¡± Durn says, his back toward me, wrapping the sausages in coarse cloth.

    Durn slams the wrapped package on the table and turns away sharply. I mutter something, half-heartedly trying to ask what he knows. He ignores me, as he does.

    ¡±Make sure to cook them through properly. Add thyme,¡± he says as I open the door to leave.

    <hr>

    The matron squints up at me, her voice cracking and snapping like pine logs in a fireplace. ¡±So you¡¯re really going? You?¡±

    I grin with every tooth showing. I can¡¯t help it. I feel like laughing out loud. ¡±Me! I¡¯ll leave this very night. It¡¯s all really important.¡±

    ¡±Can¡¯t be that important if they picked you.¡±

    I chuckle and she grins back.

    The crags in her face shift as she stops grinning and scowls instead. ¡±They should¡¯ve picked an adult for this. Lille or Ral himself. This sounds like no business for kids.¡±

    My smile freezes. I really thought she¡¯d be proud of me.

    She sees my expression change, and her own softens. ¡±Locke, I¡¯ve watched you grow from a little tyke. I love you like all my kids. I hate to see you go.¡± She reaches a wrinkled hand and pats me on the cheek. She has to crank her back straight to do it.

    ¡±Gran, I¡¯ll be back. I promise.¡± I meet her gaze and blink, something blurring my view. ¡°I¡¯ll bring the kids a souvenir. Something from the city, or even farther!¡±

    There¡¯s a shadow that crosses her face. Her hand hovers a moment in the air.

    ¡±Maybe I¡¯ll get you some spectacles finally. You wouldn¡¯t need to squint so much.¡±

    ¡±I know who each of you is from half the village away, and that¡¯s enough. I can recognize your spindly gait anywhere.¡±

    ¡±I like to think of it as a willowy stride,¡± I say, grinning.

    She rolls her eyes at me. ¡±Run along now. You don¡¯t want to waste your few last moments here with me. Go say goodbye to your friends.¡±

    ¡±I¡¯ll be back, Gran,¡± I repeat. I bow low.

    She keeps watching as I back away. I still feel the warmth of her hand on my cheek. I¡¯m not scared. But I saw how her eyes looked when she reached to touch my cheek. I don¡¯t know what to call the expression on her face, but it makes tears well up in my own eyes. I wipe them with my sleeve and silently repeat the promise to come back once more.

    <hr>

    I throw the package into the air and catch it. Bann¡¯s gaze follows it unflinching. The smell of raw meat pushes through the cloth. Bann licks his lips.

    Lian slaps him on top of the head with her palm. ¡±Stop drooling. Remember it¡¯s Locke¡¯s party. He gets the first one.¡±

    Bann chuckles.

    It¡¯s already dark and we have a fire going on the outskirts of the town. This is our place. Far enough so we won¡¯t get bothered, but close enough to reach. I¡¯ve packed whatever I thought I might need. I have enough provisions to get to the city and back, my bow and quiver, a knife, not much else. There isn¡¯t much else. I live with the others in the lodge, so I have no furniture or other responsibilities to take care of. Most of my stuff is always packed and ready to go, anyway.

    The gang is all here. There¡¯s Bann. He¡¯s more clever than what people think or he pretends to be. He¡¯s huge, and he plays the role of the big guy perfectly. He said once that it makes things easier, keeps expectations lower. Lian, on the other hand, is probably less clever than people think. She¡¯s cunning, but sometimes the way she cuts corners when thinking makes me gasp. ¡°Worst possible combination, quick and dumb,¡± as Lille once said about her when she thought I couldn¡¯t hear. Still, Lian¡¯s a good friend. Never a dull moment with her.

    Hendrik is two years older than the rest of us. He¡¯s already a fully trained hunter. If you ask me, he¡¯s a bit mediocre, but a good guy, a good hunter. We¡¯ve seen less of him lately. He¡¯s been out a lot, already going on longer hunts alone.

    ¡±So, tell us about this adventure,¡± he says.

    I start opening the package of sausages and smirk. ¡±Oh, it¡¯s only some city business. They call themselves Janitors¡ª¡±

    I¡¯m interrupted by Lian snorting. ¡±Your adventure is cleaning lavatories in Tenorsbridge?¡±

    I roll my eyes but can¡¯t help chuckling. ¡±Very funny. You should have seen the guy. He snuck up on Lille. He got close enough to put a hand on my shoulder without her noticing.¡±

    Hendrik whistles.

    I sort of resent doing it, but using Lille is the easiest way of making the point. The Janitor was weird, scary. I shake my head to drive away the creepy feeling. ¡±Lille said that they knew things she never even said to them, but might have said. When I talked with him, it felt like he kept replying to things before I said them.¡±

    Lian scratches her head. ¡±That can¡¯t be. How would that even work?¡±

    ¡±I don¡¯t know, but he promised to explain everything to me later. They said I have until tonight.¡±

    Hendrik pokes the fire and throws in one more log. ¡±It takes at least a day to get to Tenorsbridge. You can¡¯t travel when it¡¯s dark. They¡¯ll probably come in the morning, so you¡¯ll have the whole night.¡±

    I hmm in response. I remember Lille saying that the Janitors appeared yesterday. Old rules might not apply, anymore.

    The skin of the sausage cracks. I rip leaves from the thyme and throw them and the sprigs into the pan. The grease bubbles and I lick my lips. I have to swallow to keep from drooling on my chin.

    <hr>

    I poke at the fire, gazing into the dying embers and turning them over and over. Bann sighs and leans his back on a tree trunk as Lian pats her stomach. In addition to the sausages, I grabbed a lot of other stuff too. Some for the road, but I also wanted to throw a proper party for the gang. They¡¯ll owe me for this one. Hendrik hovers around Lian. I wonder if he¡¯ll finally manage to say something to her.

    I smell ozone.

    ¡±Time to go,¡± the Janitor says in a voice so soft I barely hear it. His eyes stare from below his cowl into the fire. ¡±The tavern, right away.¡±

    He disappears before I have a chance to say anything. There¡¯s a slight breeze like a gust of wind rushing to fill the space where he sat. Hendrik is still looking at Lian, and Bann has his eyes closed. Lian sees nothing, as she¡¯s concentrating on digging something out from between her teeth with her fingernail.

    Bann opens a single eye. ¡±What¡¯s up? Why the face?¡±

    ¡±Time to go,¡± I repeat.

 Chapter 3 - The Mountain Ride

    I arrive at the tavern, winded. I didn¡¯t run that hard, but the excitement and anticipation make my breath short. I stop and steady myself, pull back my shoulders, and straighten my back. The door opens as I¡¯m drawing in a long breath. I half expect it¡¯s the Janitor trying to impress me again, but it¡¯s Lille.

    She¡¯s not even looking at me as she pushes the door open with her left hand. ¡±You sounded like a stampede, running like that. Come in already.¡±

    I twist and make sure not to poke her with my bow as I squeeze past. The warmth of the tavern washes over me in contrast to the cool night air. The heavy smell of food and people still lingers, but the room is empty, except for Lille and the Janitor. Durn must have closed the place down early. As I enter, the Janitor drops the last clean-picked bone on the plate and pushes the plate away from himself.

    He sighs a long sigh, a smile still playing on his lips. Then his smile falls away. ¡±We¡¯re heading to Tenorsbridge to meet the rest of the team. I¡¯ll take us there once you¡¯re ready.¡± He drums on the table with both hands while talking. ¡±Say what you¡¯re going to say.¡±

    His last words make no sense to me. Then Lille grabs my shoulders and turns me toward her. ¡±Listen to me, Locke. I don¡¯t like what is going on or the way it¡¯s being done. But my feelings don¡¯t matter here.¡± Her grip on my shoulders tigthens. ¡°Don¡¯t make us proud. Instead, come back alive and as yourself.¡±

    The Janitor¡¯s still drumming the table, seemingly not listening to us at all. His eyebrows move in time with his tapping like he¡¯s playing some private song.

    Lille looks like she might say something more, but she hesitates for too long. The screech of the Janitor¡¯s chair against the floor makes Lille let go and take a step backward.

    He leaves the chair standing in the middle of the floor and takes a step closer. ¡±Take my hand.¡±

    I remember he said his name is Lictor, but I can¡¯t yet think of him as a real person. He doesn¡¯t seem to be here. His hand is reached out toward me, but his eyes are fixed on a candle burning at the edge of the table.

    I lift my hand slowly and the Janitor grabs hold of it. World winks at me. Darkness covers my vision for a heartbeat. When it passes, I¡¯m somewhere else. My ears pop and the Janitor lets go of my hand. I run it over my face, trying to wipe away the cobwebs. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve passed through something sticky and intangible, but there¡¯s nothing on my face.

    ¡±We traveled through the ether. The feeling will pass in a moment. Welcome to Tenorsbridge, Locke.¡±

    I exhale a breath that still smells of the tavern, of home, and breathe in the dry, unfamiliar air. It¡¯s cold and there isn¡¯t a single smell to it. I lick my lips, trying not to show how bewildered I am. If teratomes can exist, maybe teleportation can too.

    I look around the hall, rising in a dome above us. It¡¯s huge and empty, except for a pedestal with a pyramid on it in the middle of the room. The thing stands around waist-high and feels like a miniature monument. Lanterns illuminate the whole space. They must be magical, as the light doesn¡¯t flicker or smoke at all. I think of teratomes and take a deep breath. This is it.

    Adventure.

    The Janitor walks a couple of steps toward the pyramid and raises his hand to hover over it. He takes care not to touch it, as if it would burn his hand if he did. On closer inspection, the shape resembles a mountain more than a pyramid. Its shape is organic, haphazard. Bumps and wedges jut out of it, runes circling and snaking around its whole surface. The pedestal isn¡¯t merely a base for the pyramid, but the two are molded together. The pedestal¡¯s stone surface is also layered with runes, shining with a blue light.

    He offers his other hand to me. I hesitate, my hand hanging by my leg. I didn¡¯t go to meet Ral like he asked. Gran¡¯s words about war and kids play in my ears. I wonder what Lille was about to say to me before the Janitor grabbed me.

    ¡±I¡¯ll take you back and let you finish the discussion with Lille, if you want,¡± the Janitor says, hand held out. Then, he smiles. ¡±And please, Locke, start thinking of me as Lictor. We¡¯re going to be spending a lot of time together in the future. There¡¯s no need for titles, not when so much is at stake.¡±

    His smile is easy, open. Maybe this won¡¯t be as weird as I feared. The Janitor, Lictor, stays completely still and lets me grab his hand.

    He doesn¡¯t move. I tighten my grip a bit and when I do, he presses his other hand on the pyramid. The pyramid lights up and there¡¯s a slight hum, then the glow fades.

    Lictor draws back his hand and clenches it into a fist. ¡±There, now we¡¯re not in a hurry anymore. We can relax for a bit.¡±

    Nothing on his face tells me he¡¯s relaxing. And why would he, because nothing happened? He pushes back his cowl and walks away from the pyramid. He drags me behind him for a couple of steps before I let go of his hand.

    ¡±Keep up. I¡¯ll use this Ride to explain everything and you get to practice meeting them for the first time.¡±

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    He¡¯s striding along the hall toward a small door in the corner. I catch up to him and use the opportunity to look him over. He¡¯s maybe twenty years older than me, his head already balding, and what hair is left is wispy and greying. His small eyes stare out from his face, piercing and dark. He resembles an angry pig. I feel bad for thinking that way, but what can you do? The boars I¡¯ve hunted have been clever, strong and dangerous, so maybe it¡¯s not an insult.

    Lictor pushes open a door. There¡¯s a small room, with a clerk sitting on the other side of a desk. The man looks up and smiles, an easy smile, like seeing a friend. He looks young, maybe the same age as Hendrik. He puts his quill into an inkpot, being careful not to smudge his papers with his sleeve. ¡±Oh! Welcome back, sir Janitor. Found your man, eh?¡±

    Lictor grunts and walks past him.

    ¡±Done for the day?¡± the clerk shouts after us.

    Lictor keeps walking. I follow him, but take a final look at the clerk. His brow is creased in worry or confusion as he watches us go. Lictor rounds a corner and makes a gesture. There¡¯s a muted flash of blue light around his hand and a metallic snap from a hidden lock of the door ahead of us. There¡¯s no handle, but the door yawns open by itself and Lictor marches in.

    I keep following. What else can I do?

    Inside, there¡¯s a small room with no other exits than the door we came in from. The room is furnished with a couple of couches and a table with a platter heaped with different fruits. The furniture is nothing like what we have in the village¡ªdark, polished wood and deep purple velvet, not something put together from planks and furs.

    Lictor plops down on a couch. Finally, he seems to relax a bit. He runs a hand over his eyes and waves at the table. ¡±Eat. If you enjoy it.¡±

    ¡±Um, I just ate, thanks.¡±

    Lictor gives me a look. He squints again and raises a finger into the air. ¡±Consider the words I said. It doesn¡¯t matter if you don¡¯t need to eat at the moment. It only matters if you feel eating might be fun.¡±

    He watches me in silence. I don¡¯t get it, but maybe it doesn¡¯t matter. ¡±I guess I could eat some for dessert?¡± I say finally.

    ¡±Go ahead. They¡¯re all excellent.¡±

    I pick up a small fruit unlike any I¡¯ve seen before. It¡¯s brown and wrinkled and smells sweet. I bite down on it and yelp as there¡¯s a pit inside. My teeth crack down on it and the crunch sends chills down my spine. The flesh of the fruit is sweet and sticky as honey, but pungent. I carefully take out the pit from my mouth. It sticks to my fingers as I look for a suitable place to put it so it won¡¯t cause a mess.

    Lictor lifts his hand and flicks his fingers over his shoulder. ¡±Throw it somewhere.¡±

    The polished stone floor is pristine. It reflects the soft magical light shining from above and I hesitate with the sticky pit in my hand.

    ¡±It doesn¡¯t matter. Toss it. Eat as many as you like. Eating too many will work either as a laxative or cause you to get constipated, but that, also, doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    I put the pit onto the table, rubbing my fingertips against each other. ¡±I enjoy eating, but I don¡¯t enjoy constipation.¡± My cheeks flush after saying that. Why did I say that?

    Lictor raises his finger up at me again. He leans in closer and points the finger at me. His small eyes focus on mine in a way that hasn¡¯t happened before and the edges of his eyes crinkle. ¡±That¡¯s the point. You don¡¯t have to care about the consequences here. Making a mess, having a tummy ache tomorrow. It doesn¡¯t matter when you¡¯re on a Ride.¡±

    I frown.

    ¡±When I touched the Mountain Ride, you were holding on to me. That means we¡¯re both on the same Ride,¡± he says and takes a breath to continue talking.

    Finally something familiar. Lille often used the same style with us: first the demonstration, then the lecture. I lean back and relax to listen.

    ¡±The artifact lets you experience the next 24 hours and then come back. Find and try things out. Practice a discussion. Try something risky. Once the time is over, you return to the exact moment you touched the pyramid the first time.¡± Lictor picks up a spiky fruit of some kind from the platter and shows it to me. ¡±This is poisonous. One bite and you¡¯re dead instantly. And it¡¯s not a fruit, it¡¯s a gland from a certain teratome. One exists. Once we¡¯re done, you can eat it.¡±

    Eat a gland of a teratome? ¡±I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡±Uh-huh, because that¡¯s the quick way out.¡± He wags a finger at me. ¡°If you die on a Ride, you get booted out. You don¡¯t have to wait for the whole day. Or maybe you do, but it doesn¡¯t matter, as you¡¯re dead. Dead, dead, dead.¡± He singsongs the last words and chuckles.

    He jumps the spiky thing on his hand like it was a marble.

    He throws it high and catches it inside his fist, turning to face me straight on. ¡±Consequences don¡¯t exist when you¡¯re on a Ride. This is the ultimate meaning of that. If you¡¯d picked this as the first thing to taste from the platter, I would have let you.¡± He leans forward, reaches with his fist, and lets the thing drop onto my lap. ¡±The difference would have been that I need to take you on another Ride and that the explanation might have been easier for you to believe.¡±

    ¡±You¡­¡± I try to put the thoughts together. ¡±You mean you would have let me kill myself to prove a point?¡±

    ¡±I would have killed you to prove a point if it would work on you. It doesn¡¯t, though. You¡¯re too uptight for that.¡± He pouts and leans back on the couch.

    The spiky thing sits on my lap. I swipe it away and it shoots into the corner.

    Lictor¡¯s face doesn¡¯t move, but he lifts his palm toward me in a placating gesture. ¡±I¡¯m sorry. Being a Janitor does things to your sense of normality. I¡¯ve lived this day now about eight hundred and fifty times. I¡¯ve had this discussion nine times. This is important, but I want to keep this relatively natural, so I haven¡¯t gone through this as many times as I normally would have.¡±

    He leans forward and reaches his hand to sift through the fruits on the table. He picks up an ordinary apple and bites into it. He takes another bite and throws the rest of the apple over his shoulder. It hits the floor somewhere behind him with a soft crack. ¡±The Mountain Ride is primarily used to keep Tenorsbridge safe. There are limits to its use. The main one being that you only have a day to travel to where you need to go. And that distance is going to become much shorter, very soon. That¡¯s why we have been in such a hurry.¡±

    ¡±Wait, wait. You¡¯re still going too fast.¡± I grab a cherry from the table and roll it around in my fingers. Lille said that the Janitors are something new. The Ride thing must have appeared first and then they used that to organize the Janitors. When was that? I put the cherry into my mouth, speaking around it. ¡°How old is the Mountain Ride?¡±

    ¡±Two days.¡±

    The stem of the cherry drops from my lip. She didn¡¯t say they were this new. But if I believe what he¡¯s saying, it doesn¡¯t matter that they¡¯ve had it for two days. They could have spent weeks trying it out.

    No, wait. Much longer.

    I do the math. My stomach drops. ¡±You¡¯ve been living this day for over two years?!¡±

 Chapter 4 - The Chosen Four

    Lictor raises an eyebrow and picks up a pear. He bites into it, wrinkles his nose, and lets the pear drop to the ground. ¡±I always forget I don¡¯t like that one. Anyway, yes. Approximately. Obviously, some rides don¡¯t last the whole day. This day has been much faster than the first day. I¡¯m the fifth War Janitor. Three have retired already. One has died.¡±

    ¡±Two days? How long was the first day?¡±

    ¡±Collectively, maybe a decade.¡±

    I nearly choke on a grape at that. I hack and cough and miss the opportunity to ask anything.

    His eyes start wandering and he keeps talking over my coughing. ¡°We had a lot to do. I won¡¯t go into details of how we got the artifact. That¡¯s not something you need to know. The relevant thing you have to understand, and internalize, is that no amount of planning and preparation is too much anymore. We used the first day researching, planning, building and perfecting the whole system. Recruiting the perfect people to be Janitors.¡±

    I finally manage to catch my breath and raise an eyebrow at that. The way Lille often did to me, when she felt I was feeling too confident for my own good.

    ¡±It¡¯s not a boast,¡± he says quietly. He lowers his gaze to his hands and rubs his fingertips against each other. ¡±Being a Janitor requires a very certain kind of personality, who can tolerate things that would drive most people insane.¡± There¡¯s a tone in his voice that sounds like he¡¯s reciting something from memory. ¡±You have to be physically suitable for using the Mountain Ride repeatedly, more than anyone else normally does.¡±

    Maybe it doesn¡¯t matter if I believe or understand this part. At least he¡¯s not trying very hard to sell it. Perhaps he knows that I will get it. Or that I won¡¯t? I start to understand why Lille was so angry at them. Talking with a Janitor is not something I would do for fun.

    He cranes his head back and his eyes stop at something on the ceiling. I look up, but there¡¯s nothing there.

    ¡±The reason why we are in a hurry and why you are here is that we¡¯re at war.¡± He lowers his gaze from the ceiling and fixes it on me. ¡°We¡¯ve been attacked. Ruthlessly, without any restraint or mercy. Whole of Velonea will be razed and burned, and its people massacred, unless we stop it.¡±

    ¡±What! Attacked? By whom?¡±

    ¡±Kerthar. And before you say anything, yes, I¡¯m sure. No, there is no reason. We don¡¯t know why. And the attack began four days ago. Word hasn¡¯t spread yet, but it will.¡±

    I sit, stunned. I¡¯ve never been further than the forest around the village, but I know of Kerthar. Gran taught us about the world and Kerthar was always just a far-away place somewhere to the east of the continent. A decent, normal place, by all accounts. ¡±Why would Kerthar attack¡­¡± I stop mid-sentence. Lictor already answered the question. I lower my face into my hands and rub my eyes and brow.

    ¡±Because you¡¯re the best we could find. And believe me, we spent a good time searching.¡±

    That would have been my next question. The answer makes my cheeks flush with pride, but it still doesn¡¯t make sense to me. I scratch my ear and lick my lips. I have to ask. ¡±There are many better hunters in the village. Faster, stronger, more experienced. Why not Lille or Ral?¡±

    ¡±You¡¯re not yet taking into account what I told you earlier. Think it through.¡±

    I stop and bite my lip. He has already leaned back and is again shifting through the fruits. He picks up one thing at a time and considers it, before placing it back or into his mouth. I might as well not exist. ¡±I¡¯m here¡­ because I¡¯m the best specifically for what you need to get done,¡± I start. ¡±Not because I¡¯m necessarily the best in any sort of general or other way?¡± Saying it doesn¡¯t come easy, even though I know it has to be the answer.

    He keeps picking at the fruit.

    ¡±You have something very particular that needs to be done, and maybe you¡¯ve tried to get Lille or Ral or one of the adult hunters in the village to do it, but it didn¡¯t work out. They wouldn¡¯t even know you¡¯ve done it.¡±

    ¡±Correct.¡± He doesn¡¯t look up.

    I reach for an apple. They look amazing. Everything on the table does. I take a bite and chew until I¡¯ve collected my thoughts. ¡±You said you¡¯ve already had this discussion, too. I¡¯ve already accepted the mission, maybe even tried to do it. Because of that, I¡¯m here for real.¡±

    ¡±For real, good way to put it,¡± he says and rubs his hands together. ¡±Now we can get to work.¡±

    I¡¯ve scooted to the edge of my seat, leaning toward Lictor. He¡¯s still rubbing his hands and now faces me again. ¡±We have been gathering a team. You¡¯re the last member. We know you¡¯ll fit in¡­ well, we know you¡¯ll work well together with the rest, might be more accurate.¡±

    It¡¯s probably true. I¡¯ve always been good at working with others. Helping where I can, staying out of the way when I can¡¯t. Even Lille has said as much. ¡±I see.¡± I take another bite out of the apple.

    ¡±You will,¡± he says. ¡±I like you. I like all of you. You¡¯re brave. Selfless. Ready to do the right thing. That¡¯s why you have been chosen.¡±

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    His voice rises from his chest, thick with pride. His mouth is firm but his eyes soft. I want to believe him, but I remember Lille¡¯s warning about the Janitors and how they always know what to say. His tone is swinging all over the place, though. How is this him knowing what to say?

    ¡±You¡¯re too much in your own head. This far into the day, it¡¯s very hard to orchestrate anything. There are too many variables, too many minuscule actions, that can shift how things will play out. At the moment, I have no advantage.¡±

    I shake my head. He sounds sincere. What the hell. I don¡¯t really have a choice at this point. I know I¡¯m going to do whatever mission they have for me. Not because they are making it happen, but because I know myself. This is the moment I have been waiting for. I might as well embrace it.

    Lictor suddenly stands up. ¡±I think you¡¯re ready. We can go meet the others. Then I¡¯ll show you what we¡¯re up against.¡±

    <hr>

    The door has no handle on the inside, either. Lictor opens it with a gesture, leads me back into the corridor, then gestures again to close it. He¡¯s a mage of some kind. I know next to nothing of magic, but I can see how easy he makes it look. A single fluid movement, incorporating minute flicks of his fingers, drawing a complex tangle of symbols into thin air. Each of his fingers draws a separate symbol at the same time. I can¡¯t peel my gaze off from it. It¡¯s too smooth. It feels unnatural.

    Lictor gestures again as we walk, and another door opens much farther down the corridor. He walks in and as I follow him, I realize a group of people are looking at me. The room is similar to the one with the fruits: small and luxurious, with even the same furniture - a table and two couches. The fruit platter is missing, though.

    One man lounges alone on one of the couches. He¡¯s even larger than Bann and more tanned than anyone I¡¯ve seen. The sides of his head are shaved bald, but a thick tail of bright copper hair reaches over his shoulders. His eyes are slightly slanted, and he greets me with a curt grunt when I step in. There¡¯s a preposterously large curved sword leaning on the sofa next to him.

    On another sofa, there¡¯s an actual elf and a girl who looks like she¡¯s been picked off the gutter. She¡¯s about my age, but it¡¯s hard to say under the grime. Her hair is remarkably thick, long and dark. It wouldn¡¯t need to be much less tangled, and it would be glorious. Her feet are on the table and I can see her bare feet through a hole in the sole of her boot. Her gaze smolders as she gives me a look from below her brow.

    The elf rises up and bows low. He¡¯s the first of his kind I have ever met, but he has to be one. His ears are slanted and his hair fine and shiny. There¡¯s not a single wrinkle anywhere, but the look in his eyes reminds me of Gran. His face is relaxed and open. I could tell him anything. ¡±You must be Locke,¡± he says.

    I bow back to everyone in general. The tanned man places both fists on his knees and keeps them there as he bows, still sitting down. The girl grunts.

    ¡±Pleasure to meet you. We¡¯ve heard much about you from Lictor. I believe we¡¯ll make a great team,¡± the elf says and smiles. ¡±My name is Mandollel.¡±

    He sounds so gentle and strong at the same time. Are all elves like this? It feels unfair. ¡±I¡¯m honored to be here. My name is Locke¡­ as you already knew.¡±

    The girl chuckles. She flicks her head to throw a tangle of hair from her face. She has high cheekbones and lips that Lian would probably kill someone to have. ¡±Name¡¯s Finna. And this whole thing¡¯s stupid.¡±

    The huge man turns from me to her. ¡±You know how important this is.¡± There¡¯s an accent to his speech that I can¡¯t place. There¡¯s twice the normal amount of consonants in the words when he says them. Understanding him is going to feel like exercising. ¡±We are called to act! Our madness will burn the world.¡±

    He must be from Kerthar! Judging from how alien he looks to me, from further away in the east, where the barbarian tribes live. I haven¡¯t seen anyone sit like he does. He¡¯s practically vibrating with tension, like he¡¯s focusing on the task with all he has.

    Lictor clears his throat. ¡±Rworg knows something of what is happening in Kerthar.¡± The name has at least four syllables, as he says it. It rolls off his tongue effortlessly. ¡±The rest of you will learn soon enough.¡± He steps into the middle of the room and spreads his arms wide.

    I recognize the gesture and take his hand. The rest seem to recognize it as well. Rworg picks up his sword and grabs Lictor¡¯s opposite arm below the elbow. His fingers wrap around his whole arm. Mandollel lowers a hand on Lictor¡¯s shoulder. Finna bumps me with her shoulder as she grabs hold of Lictor¡¯s cloak.

    Lictor starts wriggling his fingers the moment she does. It¡¯s another perfectly smooth motion, but much more complicated this time. It lasts for a while. The air fills with overlapping symbols. They flash brightly and the world goes dark.

    My vision returns in a forest. I¡¯ve been pushed through a thicket of spider webs and I fight the urge to wipe my face. Finna, on the other hand, paws at her head and whole body with both hands. Mandollel and Rworg look around, composed. It¡¯s late, and the forest is already fading to black, the shapes of trees and the moss on the rocks barely visible. White boulders jut out from the ground, taller than me. The trees themselves are familiar, but compared to the forests that I¡¯m used to, there are more evergreens than deciduous trees. I chuckle when the word pops into my mind. Gran taught us all to read and write and everything about nature that I¡¯ll never need for real. Everyone complained about it so much, but here I am, missing the leafy trees of home and remembering the word she used of them. In this unfamiliar forest, some orange lights flicker through the trees.

    ¡±We¡¯re near the border. The lights ahead are from a Kertharian camp. They are raiding a small village in two hours,¡± Lictor says.

    ¡±How many?¡± Mandollel asks.

    ¡±This isn¡¯t what we agreed on,¡± Finna says.

    ¡±Three warmages, fourteen soldiers, seven non-combatants, though that doesn¡¯t really apply here.¡±

    ¡±We will offer them a chance to surrender,¡± Rworg says. He swings the curved sword and lifts it before his chest, pointing the blade up.

    Is he insane? Lictor said there¡¯s 14 soldiers in total! I have never fought a single human for real. Much less a warmage. When did I agree to fight at all?

    ¡±We will not harm the non¡ª¡± Mandollel says, but stops mid-sentence. His face turns sour for a moment, but he clenches his jaw, grips a handle on his belt and pulls out a sword.

    I didn¡¯t pay attention to the dangling handle before, but now there¡¯s a faint blue glow as he drags the blade into existence. It appears from thin air as he keeps pulling. The sound it makes is like a whistle of some bird. The blade is a needle with a cutting edge. It shines silver in the moonlight.

    Who are these people? Mandollel and Rworg start walking toward the lights. Finna stands there, but who could blame her?

    I swing my bow from my back into my hand. I nudge the quiver on my hip to make sure the arrows are loose and ready. Just in case. I¡¯ll hang back, like I always do. I guess I¡¯ll have to go and see what happens?

    Lictor waves a hand toward the lights. ¡±Go.¡±

 Chapter 5 - First Blood

    Mandollel drops low and vanishes into the forest. His technique is immaculate, feet landing lightly on the soft forest floor, body weaving between the branches. He doesn¡¯t hesitate or correct his movements even once. I wonder if he can see in the dark.

    Rworg, on the other hand, marches directly into the forest and toward the lights. He¡¯s wearing light leather armor and holding his sword in one hand. He pushes the branches off his face with his other one, making an astounding racket. I grimace with every snap and crack.

    Finna does as well. She keeps turning around. ¡±Still the same place?¡± She takes a final look around the area and makes a rude gesture at Lictor. ¡°You changed the deal. I¡¯m out. I¡¯ll take my own chances.¡±

    Lictor purses his mouth, but doesn¡¯t react otherwise. He presses a finger on a cluster of runes on the shoulder of his cloak and they glow blue. ¡±Can¡¯t win every time. Sorry, Locke,¡± he mumbles quietly to himself. I can make it out, even though I¡¯m not sure if I was supposed to. He winks out, disappearing into thin air. At first I think he teleported somewhere again, but I can hear him take in a breath and a quiet thump as he jumps into the air.

    He must have just turned invisible. A ludicrous thought to have, or it would have been a couple of hours ago. I wonder where he jumped and wait for the sound of him landing, but it doesn¡¯t come.

    During my wait, Finna has disappeared. I didn¡¯t even notice her leaving. Can she turn invisible too? It seems unlikely. I shrug and move in the direction where Mandollel went. I¡¯m not going to keep standing in an empty clearing, alone. I try to keep as quiet as the elf, but I can hear how my steps rustle and how loud my breathing sounds in the quiet forest. Somewhere ahead of us, there¡¯s the crash of Rworg moving his way through the forest. He begins shouting something in a language I haven¡¯t heard before.

    I creep closer to the camp and nearly bump into the elf. He¡¯s leaning on a tree, almost hugging it. At the last moment, he lifts a hand to stop me. The lights of the camp reach us, and I peer from behind the branches to catch a glimpse of what¡¯s going on.

    Rworg is standing at the edge of the camp, shouting in what I assume to be Kerthar at the people in the camp. There¡¯s a large bonfire in the middle of maybe eight tents. The Kertharians are silhouetted against the light, and I have to squint. I keep my other eye closed so I¡¯ll be able to see something in the dark even after looking away from the fire and torches. The people in the camp have weapons ready, but so far they are listening to what Rworg is shouting at them.

    Mandollel leans toward me to whisper. ¡±He¡¯s asking them why they are here. Telling them to go back unless they want to be killed in a foreign land by foreigners.¡± He cocks his head to the side. ¡°Somehow it¡¯s worse than being killed at home, I think.¡±

    The people in the camp watch Rworg. Their mouths move, but I can¡¯t hear what they are saying. A man in a robe pushes his way out of a tent. I guess he must be one of the warmages, and if so, I probably should be ready. I hesitate, but slide out an arrow from the quiver and nock it. I hope it¡¯s not just someone coming out of a bath.

    Mandollel has been staying still, listening. ¡±His accent is atrocious. I wonder if the Kertharians can even understand what he¡¯s saying. Now he¡¯s telling them to¡ª¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    His words are cut short by the screaming. The sound is a high-pitched wail that undulates up and down. The Kertharians nearest to Rworg start it, and everyone in the camp joins in immediately.

    The screaming is wild, voices breaking and cracking and raw. My blood kicks in response to the sound.

    Four men start rushing toward Rworg. Teeth bared and eyes wild, they stumble over each other to get to him.

    The man in the robe raises his hands high above his head and a blue glow starts to form between them. Power drags and sizzles around him. I don¡¯t have time to think. I fire. I can¡¯t hear the arrow connect from all the shouting, but my aim is true. The light winks out and the man drops to the ground.

    ¡±Beautiful shot,¡± Mandollel says.

    It was a reflex. I didn¡¯t mean to. I glance to Mandollel, trying to explain, but he¡¯s somehow far ahead of me, already much further than seems possible. His sword whistles and leaves behind a silvery after-image, as he twirls it while running.

    First two men reach Rworg. He cleaves both of them in half with a single swing of his sword. I¡¯m not sure if I saw right what happened. That shouldn¡¯t be possible. I¡¯m happy that I didn¡¯t see it more clearly. Curiously, it doesn¡¯t affect the screaming. The high-pitched war cry continues, the remaining two men still charging at him.

    Two men are running near the warmage that I shot. They don¡¯t stop to check or help him. One of the men jumps over the body and his leg snaps the arrow sticking up into the air. The body jerks but lays otherwise still.

    Something rises up in my throat and leaves an acrid taste in my mouth. I glimpse a blue glow farther back, on the opposite side of the camp. It contrasts against the orange and yellow light of the torches. The robed silhouette of the caster is easy to see, but they are really far. I spit to get the taste out of my mouth and nock the arrow.

    I don¡¯t know how long I have, but I still take a moment to aim. The glow grows brighter and more intense, coloring the camp blue instead of orange.

    I release. The arrow arcs over the camp, but a rustle and a scream wrench my attention away before I can see if the aim was good.

    A woman rushes toward me. She¡¯s maybe ten steps away, raising something over her head. She screams as she runs, the same wail as the others, teeth bared and tongue lolling out. She must have seen where the arrows came from. She stumbles over a root. I nock and shoot an arrow without aiming. It hits her in the stomach. I wince as she goes down.

    I was lucky it was only a single person who stumbled. She wasn¡¯t lucky, at all. The hit wasn¡¯t a clean one. She¡¯s down, but it¡¯ll take her ages to succumb to the wound. A thought flashes through my mind: Lille would scold me for that kind of shot on an animal and make me finish it at once.

    I freeze at the idea. The woman wriggles on the ground. She¡¯s not just wriggling, she¡¯s still crawling toward me. Her war cry hasn¡¯t stopped either. It sounds pained, but still as angry. The arrow sticks out from her back, the wet tip drawing arcs in the air as she crawls, the black stain spreading on her clothes. The weapon she was brandishing is a large wooden ladle.

    ¡±Mage!¡± Mandollel shouts from somewhere inside the camp. ¡±Mage!¡±

    I wrench my eyes off the woman and sweep my gaze around the area. Rworg is wading in a pile of bodies. He¡¯s been painted with blood, his teeth gleaming white next to the red that looks black in the moonlight. I notice the blue glow to my right from the corner of my eye. The mage must have been at the very end of the camp or visiting a nearby bush or something. As I see the glow, it¡¯s replaced by something huge and orange and terrifying.

    I try to turn and run, but I trip on the ladle the woman stabs at my legs. I¡¯m still falling when a massive force hits me from the side. I have time to register a piercing spike of pain in my right ear. The shock wave hits me and throws me into the air. The ground flies away from me. I spin and hit something back-first. It pierces through my shoulder and the impact would push the air from my lungs if they still had any left. A bloody branch sticks out from my shoulder. The mass of fire rushes toward me too fast to comprehend. It hits me before I have time to scream.

 Chapter 6 - The First Rule of Mountain Ride isâ€¦

    The glow of the pyramid fades. Lictor releases my wrist and looks at his hand, flexing his fingers. ¡±Much better than most first tries,¡± he says. He grabs me as I stumble back. He leans backwards and keeps me from falling on the ground, even though I nearly trip on my own legs.

    I gasp for air, but there¡¯s no need to gasp. I can breathe just fine. I¡¯m back at the large hall, standing next to the pyramid. My ear is fine. My body remembers nothing of the pain of being thrown across a forest and slammed back first into a tree. I touch my shoulder where I hit the branch. There¡¯s nothing there. My shoulder is completely fine.

    ¡±Your first death on a Ride,¡± Lictor says. ¡°Good to get it out of the way early.¡±

    I lick my lips. Everything feels normal. My body is at ease. My mind is a whirlpool of weightless memories. I lift a hand to touch my face, to make sure I¡¯m real.

    Lictor taps his foot on the marble floor and folds his arms over his chest. His eyes wander around the room, like he¡¯s trying to follow the echoing sound of boot on stone. ¡±Don¡¯t worry. Rworg and Mandollel handled the rest of the Kertharians. Those two are quite a sight, I have to say.¡± He whistles and smirks, but then turns to look back at me. ¡°Too bad that you died.¡± He makes a solemn face, then slaps his hands together. ¡±Well! At least there¡¯s something to improve the next time.¡±

    My mind is calm. I remember the panic, the chaos of the fight. The sound the arrow made as it hit her in the stomach. It all feels like it happened to someone else entirely. Someone else¡¯s memories. I look at my hands and rub my fingertips together. The callouses on them rasp together, earned from training the bow hours every day.

    ¡±You get used to it. It¡¯s better this way. Allows you to take risks and do things that you couldn¡¯t if the consequences felt real.¡±

    Lictor has stepped back nearer to the pyramid. Did he touch it while I wasn¡¯t looking? Would I have noticed? Does he already know how I will react and what I¡¯m going to ask?

    He stands there with his hand held out. ¡±We¡¯re short on time here.¡±

    I raise my hand slowly, hesitating. He grabs my wrist, yanks me toward the pyramid, and starts slapping his hand into it, four times in total. My vision flashes in time with the slap, even though there¡¯s no physical sensation.

    Someone flicks me on the forehead, or at least it feels like that. I yelp at the snap. Lictor stops. His fingers pull back, away from the pyramid. He puts his hand into his pocket as the glow of the pyramid fades.

    Lictor¡¯s tongue peeks out to lick his lips. ¡±That should be enough,¡± he says and lets go of my wrist. ¡±Do you want to catch your breath or go and meet the others directly?¡±

    I raise my hand to make him wait and touch my forehead. It¡¯s raw, tender. There¡¯s something that feels like a huge mole, size of my pinky¡¯s tip, above my brows.

    Lictor shrugs and waves his hand over his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯ll go away after this Ride.¡±

    I touch the mole again. It¡¯s still there. I wince as the touch makes it throb. I didn¡¯t know this would be part of the deal.

    ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s nothing. We¡¯ll need to go and meet the others.¡±

    I frown at Lictor, but it makes me feel the mole between my brows, so I smooth my face again. I swallow as I realize the mole feels more important and worrying than the skirmish and¡­ getting killed? Coming out of the Ride, the thought of dying feels like waking up from a dream. Fighting people doesn¡¯t feel too different from hunting, or even target practice. If it didn¡¯t really happen, maybe it doesn¡¯t count that I¡­

    I shake my hand at Lictor, even if the gesture is really to sweep away the thoughts of killing someone. ¡±Wait. Wait! Everything¡¯s going to happen again now, exactly like it already did?¡±

    He crosses his arms before his chest. ¡±Yes, and no. We¡¯ll skip our discussion, unless you want to get some fruit. That means you¡¯ll meet the rest of the team a bit sooner. The difference is too small to matter. And as you surprise the Kertharians, the fight will be pretty much the same too.¡± He uncrosses his arms and points a finger at me. ¡±Unless you decide to make some changes.¡±

    The emphasis makes it clear that he¡¯s not going to be making any. The attack on the camp will happen. It¡¯s up to me if I want to survive the fight. Or avoid it? Why are we attacking them in the first place?

    The air in the hall is still and cold. The blue light makes Lictor¡¯s eyes white and black. He lowers his finger and puts his hands in his pockets. ¡±The attack will happen. What are you going to do differently?¡±

    I focus on considering his question to distract myself from the throbbing in my forehead. He said they are attacking a settlement? Saving them is reason enough, I guess. I take a look around the hall to avoid looking at him, but there¡¯s nothing new to look at. Of course there isn¡¯t.

    Lictor stares at me, waiting. I have to answer something. I can take down the two first mages quicker. Be somewhere where the woman doesn¡¯t find me or take her down earlier, as well. Avoid the explosion or make sure the last mage can¡¯t finish the spell. Talk Finna into coming along. I have no idea if that¡¯s something that can be done. Lictor would know. ¡±What do I usually do?¡±

    ¡±Good question. Walk with me. I want some cherries before we go.¡±

    Lictor turns around and walks to the same door as before. The clerk looks up and smiles. He puts his quill into an inkpot, being careful not to smudge his papers with his sleeve. ¡±Oh! Welcome back, sir Janitor. Found your man, eh?¡±

    Lictor grunts. The feeling of deja vu makes me stumble. Everything swims, but I catch myself and hurry after him.

    ¡±Done for the day?¡± the clerk shouts after us, the smile freezing on his face.

    I make myself smile at him and wave. He raises his hand slowly at me. The worried look doesn¡¯t leave his face.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Lictor has kept going. ¡±Keep up.¡±

    I jog to catch up to him. He¡¯s holding open the door from earlier. The couches and the table and the fruit are still there.

    Lictor goes straight to the table and picks up some cherries from the pile of fruit. He remains standing, puts one in his mouth, and spits out the pit into the corner of the couch. ¡±So, back to your question. You usually do exactly what you did the first time. Alternatively, if I give you more time to prepare, Mandollel comes up with a plan and you all follow it. It¡¯s an excellent plan, but it gets you killed.¡±

    I feel like the lights of the room are dimming. My knees feel weak. ¡±I always get killed? What I¡¯m supposed to do?¡±

    Lictor spits out another pit. It hits the backrest of the sofa and drops somewhere behind it. ¡±That¡¯s up to you. It¡¯s why you are here. You have four attempts to try things out. Then it¡¯s time to do it for real. We¡¯re running out of time and of attempts.¡±

    ¡±Wait, why are we running out of attempts? Can¡¯t we¡­ do this all over again?¡± I ask, but it¡¯s like the throbbing in my forehead answers. I wince, but the pain isn¡¯t that bad. Just weird and worrying.

    ¡±There are limits to using the Mountain Ride.¡± He wrinkles his nose and the corner of his mouth edges down, like he smelled something nasty. It¡¯s the most emotion I¡¯ve seen from him for a while. His eyes flicker at my forehead. ¡°You don¡¯t want to push it too far.¡±

    ¡±What would happen¡­¡± I stop in the middle of the question. It might be more comfortable not knowing. I resist the urge to poke at the mole. It¡¯s not like I wanted to go on more Rides, even if I had known about this being a possibility. Keeping track of what has happened and what hasn¡¯t is hard enough already.

    ¡°Concentrate on the problem ahead of you, Locke. What are you going to do?¡±

    I lean forward, steepling my fingers. I guess I have no choice. He¡¯s made that much clear.

    My original position was good. From there, I can handle at least two of the mages before they even realize I¡¯m there. Maybe on one Ride I could try to shoot the first warmage while he¡¯s still inside his tent, before anyone in the camp realizes they are going to be attacked.

    I¡¯m starting to grasp the amount of power Lictor has. The thought makes me blanch.

    Lictor digs around in the pile of fruit and tosses me the black spiky non-fruit. ¡±Take this, just in case. Ready to go?¡±

    I catch the thing and it pokes at my palms. I hesitate, but put it in my pocket. I have the outlines of a plan ready. The trick is going to be getting the others to follow it.

    <hr>

    My plan is ready by the time we enter the room where the others are waiting. This time I¡¯ll get it right. Everyone is in slightly different positions than the last time. Mandollel is leaning on the couch, head turned so we can see his profile when we enter with Lictor. He straightens his back, tosses his hair, and bows at me. ¡±You must be Locke,¡± he says.

    I bow back to him. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s pleasure to meet you, Mandollel.¡±

    He rises up and furrows his brow. His eyes hover over my eyes while he speaks. ¡±Likewise. We¡¯ve heard much about you from Lictor¡ª¡°

    I raise a hand to stop him. ¡±Wait, we¡¯re short on time.¡±

    Mandollel¡¯s mouth stays open, but he stops talking. He closes his mouth and I could swear he almost pouts. I guess he¡¯s not used to getting interrupted. Finna perks up. I can¡¯t see her eyes from behind her hair, but her mouth tightens.

    ¡±What?¡± Rworg says from his couch. He reaches a hand to grasp his sword beside him.

    ¡±We¡¯re attacking a Kertharian camp and we need a new plan.¡± I turn directly to Mandollel next, knowing I¡¯ll need to do something about him taking charge. ¡°The plan you make gets me killed every time.¡±

    He frowns, his perfect eyebrows knitting together even tighter.

    ¡±I can take care of the warmages, but I need someone to guard me. There¡¯s a woman that I can¡¯t be distracted by. Finna, you don¡¯t know me, but I know you don¡¯t necessarily want to be here, but can you help me with this one thing?¡±

    The room is silent.

    Mandollel squints at me, alternating looking between my eyes and my forehead. I¡¯m still standing near the door, he next to the couches. His skin is like cream, but now it looks a shade paler than before. ¡±Did Lictor tell you about this?¡±

    ¡±No, I saw it on the last Ride. We can do better this time! I know¡ª¡±

    ¡±Are you on a Ride now?¡± Mandollel says, interrupting me. His tone could cut steel. He walks toward me, every muscle on his face as tight as a bowstring.

    Rworg raises his head up. He bites his lip, eyes flickering between me and Mandollel.

    I take a step back from the elf. His eyes sparkle. There are motes of light in them and it might be beautiful, but the way he stares at me makes my face cold. ¡°Well, um, yes.¡±

    Finna slams her feet down from the table. Her teeth are clenched. ¡±You absolute bastards. You bastard-bastard bastards.¡±

    Rworg¡¯s face is slack. His arms dangle in his lap. He looks like someone hit him with a shovel on the back of the head. Lictor is nowhere to be seen, but there¡¯s a smell of ozone in the air.

    ¡±What¡¯s going on? I only wanted to¡ª¡±

    Mandollel covers the last steps separating us. He leans down, pushing his face right up to mine. His thin pale lips are stretched into a snarl. ¡±You came here just to gloat at us? You have the audacity to rub this in our faces?¡±

    He smells like flowers and morning dew and I have never been as scared in my life. His eyes are everything I see, and it feels like looking directly into a loaded crossbow. A coiled spring, ready to punch a hole straight through me.

    ¡±Where¡¯s that bastard Janitor bastard!¡± Finna screams. She has a dagger in each hand. I have no idea where she got them from.

    I lean away from Mandollel as far as I can.

    He grabs the front of my tunic. I yelp as his fingers dig into my chest. He yanks. Stitches of my tunic snap and rip. I yelp again as I¡¯m lifted off my feet and thrown further into the room. It¡¯s less violent than the time I got hit by whatever the Kertharian mage threw at me, but I still fly a solid five steps before landing on the table between the couches. Back of my knees hit the tabletop and I flip over it, bashing my elbow and the back of my head on the table. Something cracks below me and I tumble down with the table, two of its legs broken. Blood thrums in my ears and behind my eyes. I¡¯ve survived worse tumbles, but I know I¡¯ll be sore for days.

    Finna swings her daggers around wildly on the other side of the ruined table, screaming insults at the air. Rworg has sat back down and is sitting with his face in his huge hands.

    ¡±This one¡¯s a bust,¡± Lictor¡¯s voice says. He¡¯s on my right, crouching and invisible. ¡±Maybe I should have told you, but I guess it¡¯s good you see for yourself¡ª¡±

    Lictor¡¯s words are cut off by a sickening crunch. Mandollel crashes down from his jump with his full weight right next to me. His feet are wobbling in the air at the height of where they would be if he stood on someone¡¯s head or neck. He stomps hard with his other leg and there¡¯s another crunch.

    ¡±Why the hell would you¡ª!¡±

    My shout is cut short as Mandollel kicks me. He doesn¡¯t get much force into the kick, as something gives away under his other leg and he slides onto the floor. The kick glances off my shoulder. He regains his balance in a way that would make Lille proud.

    I tumble away from him and raise both my hands before me. ¡±Wait! Please! I only thought we could do better this time!¡±

    He doesn¡¯t hear me. It looks like something has snapped in him. His beautiful face is twisted into a mask of rage and tears flow freely down it.

    Rworg looks up at us. His face is pale, but he has composed himself. He looks at Mandollel and the composure falls away. He starts to rise, reaching a hand toward the elf. Finna¡¯s daggers lay on the ground and she sits between them, legs splayed on both sides forming a W-shape. I can¡¯t see her face.

    Mandollel screams. His voice breaks and cracks. His hand grasps at his hip, and I guess what is coming. I try to dodge down and back toward the couches, but he¡¯s way too fast. The silver streak of the sword flashes across my view. My vision starts to tilt sideways. For a confusing moment, I don¡¯t feel my body. Instead, there¡¯s a sharp, cold pain around my throat. The world twists and turns upside down. I hit the top of my head hard on the floor and see the rest of my body fall backwards away from me.

 Chapter 7 - Back to the Beginning

    The glow of the pyramid fades. Lictor releases my wrist and rubs the back of his neck. ¡±That guy has way too good hearing. Oh well. Three attempts left. I guess you didn¡¯t get to kill any Kertharians that time?¡±

    I touch my throat. There¡¯s obviously nothing there. Then I remember, and touch my forehead. There¡¯s nothing there either! I smile but the smile freezes, as I remember thinking I would be sore for days. I¡¯m not, at all. I move my hand back to my throat and feel my Adam¡¯s apple bob as I swallow. ¡±Why¡­ What happened?¡±

    Lictor chuckles. ¡°You tell me. I was dead.¡± He winks, then the smile falls from his face as suddenly as it appeared. He sniffs and shrugs. ¡±Anyway. Time to go.¡±

    He¡¯s already walking toward the door out of the hall. I let go of my throat to catch up to him. ¡±I mean, he killed me! And you. Why?¡±

    ¡°People don¡¯t react well to realizing they are not included on a Ride. Especially Mandollel. He has a high opinion of himself and doesn¡¯t handle insults well,¡± he says. ¡°The mole is gone though. I told you it would disappear, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    He pushes open the door to the clerk¡¯s office, before I have time to answer. The clerk looks up, surprised as always. He opens his mouth to speak.

    Lictor shushes him. He raises a finger into the air and wiggles it from side to side at the clerk while walking past him. His gaze is stuck on the floor, but he keeps talking. ¡±You didn¡¯t insult him. In a way. You made him realize he¡¯s expendable. Irrelevant. You essentially told him that you matter and he does not, in a way that can¡¯t be argued against. He¡¯s a prop you meet on a Ride, use, and leave behind. That¡¯s a thought a person like him can¡¯t deal with.¡±

    The clerk is watching us go with eyes wide. He doesn¡¯t say anything. The quill lies motionless in his hand.

    Lictor¡¯s cloak billows and flaps behind him as he marches ahead. I jog to keep up with him. When he¡¯s at the door, he again gestures to open it, but stops. He stands in place, moving his mouth sideways and wrinkling his nose. ¡±I¡¯m sorry. I should have told you how people can react. That was one of the first things we learned when starting to test out the artifact. One of the very first rules we laid down. But oh well, maybe the lesson sticks, now that you experienced it firsthand.¡±

    He walks in and drops to sit down on the couch this time. He lifts his boots on the armrest and lays his head on the other backrest. ¡±Remember to put the teratome gland in your pocket again.¡±

    I put my hand in my pocket. It¡¯s empty. I¡¯m only mildly surprised. Maybe I¡¯m getting the hang of this. I roll a bit of lint around in my pocket and start talking to organize my thoughts. ¡±So¡­ when I¡¯m on a Ride, I can¡¯t let anyone know? I can¡¯t outright explain things they know I can¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the rule.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ you explain things to me constantly?¡±

    He keeps tapping the toes of his boots against each other, gazing at the ceiling. ¡±That¡¯s different. I have been on a Ride before. I¡¯m not, now. Well, I am, but we¡¯re on the same one.¡± He waves his hand as if to wipe away something unnecessary. ¡±The point is that you can¡¯t let people know you¡¯re on a Ride they are not included on.¡±

    ¡±Wait, how do I actually know we¡¯re on the same one? What if you¡ª¡±

    Lictor pushes himself upright and interrupts me with another wave of his hand. ¡±Don¡¯t think about it. It¡¯ll only make you doubt everything and drive you insane. There¡¯s nothing that you could do about it or nothing that it would change.¡± He reaches for the fruits and picks up a pear. He¡¯s about to bite into it, but raises his eyebrow and throws the fruit behind his back. He then looks back at me with a serious look. ¡±But learning for a fact that you are merely a prop on someone else¡¯s Ride, that¡¯s different. It¡¯s an existential insult like no other. If you understand the concept of how the Mountain Ride works, it pierces through your very core. We avoid letting it happen. Out of principle and out of practicality. It ruins Rides, it ruins lives.¡±

    I pick up the spiky teratome gland from the table. It¡¯s exactly where it always has been, approximately in the middle of the pile, slightly to the left. ¡±It doesn¡¯t feel right not to tell them,¡± I say, frowning.

    Lictor is reaching to grab a handful of nuts from the table. He stops and fixes his beady eyes on me. The gaze doesn¡¯t waver an inch. ¡±It doesn¡¯t matter. Nothing on a Ride does. Reality matters. Our home does. The people there. We have a responsibility to them. To the people who will die, unless you stop the Kertharians tonight.¡±

    <hr>

    ¡±My name is Locke, as you already knew.¡±

    I repeat the same actions as last time. Somehow it makes everything feel more normal. I turn to watch Finna greet me and wait for Rworg to challenge her about the importance of what we¡¯re doing. I try to keep it natural, but get the order wrong. I turn to Mandollel even when it wasn¡¯t his turn to speak yet.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    His brow furrows. ¡±What is it?¡±

    I remember his from the last Ride and rub my face to cover how shaken I am by the memory. ¡±Umm, I was thinking about what Lictor told me about the Kertharians. He¡¯s going to take us somewhere with a full camp planning an attack on a small village.¡±

    Lictor nudges his head at me. ¡±I¡¯ve briefed Locke while we were on the way. He has a plan worked out.¡±

    ¡±Let us hear it,¡± Rworg says.

    I swallow. I stop rubbing my face and realize I did have a plan. ¡±Rworg will march into the camp to offer them a chance to surrender. They won¡¯t take it, but it will draw their attention. I know that you can handle whatever happens next¡­ as Lictor has told me about you.¡± I add. ¡±Mandollel, you support Rworg and pick off people where you can. I think that the non-combatants will also attack us. Even if they don¡¯t look like a soldier, be wary.¡±

    Rworg makes a grunting sound. It¡¯s probably an approval? Mandollel whistles. The sound is exactly like some bird¡¯s call and I can¡¯t understand if there¡¯s some meaning behind it. I look at him with a questioning look.

    ¡±I¡¯m willing to give it a try.¡± His tone is neutral. I can¡¯t decide if he¡¯s impressed, amused, or dubious.

    I turn to Finna. She¡¯s glaring at me from under her brows and her tangle of dark hair. She¡¯s much easier to read than Mandollel.

    ¡±I don¡¯t know you, but I know that this is different from what you¡¯ve been told earlier,¡± I start. She grunts in approval. ¡±But I need your help! We have the element of surprise and we know their numbers and position. I need you to¡ª¡±

    ¡±Extra 200 gold coins.¡±

    My eyes feel like they¡¯re about to bulge out from their sockets. For that amount of money, I could retire though I¡¯m even not of age yet.

    Lictor¡¯s face stays passive, but he turns slightly so Finna can¡¯t see half of his face and winks at me. I rub my face to cover the smile I can¡¯t hold back.

    ¡°Agreed,¡° he says.

    ¡±Deal,¡± she says.

    <hr>

    Rworg starts shouting. I have my arrow already trailed on the spot where the warmage should come out of his tent. I¡¯ve tried to find the third warmage while waiting, but they are not anywhere in the camp. Finna is crouching next to me. She has a dagger in both hands. They look dirty, but sharp. The rest of the metal tarnished, but the edges shine bright. She¡¯s going to run interference for me. I¡¯m hoping she¡¯ll catch the woman, so I don¡¯t have to.

    The camp starts shouting. I take careful aim and watch the warmage exit the tent and raise his hands. I let loose the arrow. While it¡¯s still in flight, I¡¯m already looking for the next mage at the back of the camp. I don¡¯t have to watch. The shot is easy. It¡¯s better I don¡¯t.

    ¡±Confident,¡± Mandollel says and bolts ahead. Even though I knew what he¡¯d do, it still amazes me to see how fast he moves. I shake my head, but then I notice the silhouette of the mage. This time I have time to prepare the shot. It turns out the mage had been casting for a while, when I spotted them the last time. I still rush the shot so I can turn my attention to finding the last mage.

    Finna curses under her breath and moves forward. She doesn¡¯t move as quietly as Mandollel, but I lose her the moment I stop focusing on her. It¡¯s like she blends into the background, her dirty clothes fitting the dark greens and browns of the forest as she moves to intercept the woman coming at me.

    I finally spot the third mage. He rushes to the camp from the forest with a bag over his shoulder. Maybe he has been collecting something. I don¡¯t know what a mage would be collecting and I don¡¯t have time to wonder about it either. He¡¯s closer than I expected. He must have spotted me right away on the first Ride. I nock an arrow and take aim. He stops as he sees me, which makes the shot even easier. I put the arrow straight through his throat, just below the chin. He grabs at his neck with both hands and falls back into the bushes with a gurgling sound.

    I turn back to the camp to avoid taking in more of what happens to the mage. Rworg stands in a pile of corpses again. There are maybe ten bodies around him. It¡¯s ridiculous. How can anyone fight ten people and win? The rest of the camp is surprisingly quiet. I spot the occasional body, but there¡¯s no active fighting going on. The woman who surprised me the last time lies still on her face some way away from me. I can¡¯t see Finna anywhere. Mandollel steps out from one of the tents and flicks his sword in a sharp motion. He then pushes the blade back into the ring on his belt and it disappears into a blue glow. He slaps his hands together a few times and tosses his hair. There¡¯s not a single speck of blood or dirt on him.

    Rworg, on the other hand, is covered in blood from head to toe. He shakes his head with downcast eyes and wipes the blood from his face with his huge hand. ¡±You¡¯re finished?¡± he grunts.

    ¡±Yes,¡± Mandollel says. ¡±Locke handled the mages. Exceptional work. Finna is in the command tent, looking for something valuable.¡±

    I hear cursing from one of the tents. It¡¯s the one the first warmage came out of, the largest one in the camp and made of finer materials than the rest. I keep my eyes off the mage and the rest of the corpses as I walk to the tent. I push open the flap and see Finna leaning on a desk. She has pulled open the drawers and left them hanging. Their contents are spread around the tent. Sacks have been cut open and papers strewn on the ground, dirty bootprints all over them.

    I approach her carefully. ¡±What did you find?¡±

    ¡±There¡¯s more. A lot more. And they¡¯re closer than what we were told. This is going to make getting through hell.¡±

    She¡¯s looking at the desk and something on it. I inch to look over her shoulder and see a map as large as the table. It takes me a moment to understand the area it¡¯s showing, but I finally recognize the part of the eastern border shown. The map has a collection of carved figurines placed on it, like pieces from some board game. There are nine camp-like figurines spread haphazardly on the map, all pushed right up to the border. More and more figurines are stacked deeper on Kerthar¡¯s side of the border: infantry, cavalry, more tents.

    ¡±This is the Kertharian advance force,¡± Lictor says from behind me. He has appeared from somewhere and places his finger on a map next to one of the camps. ¡±We¡¯re here. This is the smallest and the one nearest camp to our side. All these camps will launch attacks on civilian targets during this night.¡± He moves his finger from one figurine to the next while talking.

    ¡±Nine!¡± Finna screams. ¡±Forget this.¡±

    I hear the flap of the tent move. It could have been the wind, but it must have been Mandollel, as he¡¯s now standing behind me.

    He rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. ¡±We¡¯re going to have a long night.¡±

 Chapter 8 - Hundred Flying Mages

    I lean my head down on my hands. The floor of the tent is plain ground, stomped tight and flat. The air smells of something sharp and overbearing that I don¡¯t recognize. Maybe some spice or incense that the Kertharians use? Papers strewn about by Finna are caught under my boot. They are full of writing in a language I can¡¯t read.

    ¡±I¡¯m not going on eight more suicide missions,¡± Finna says. Her tone sounds final.

    The look Mandollel gives her could peel paint off a wall. ¡±These people are acting senselessly. A well-executed plan will make short work of them, as we already witnessed.¡±

    My chest swells with pride, before realizing the compliment wasn¡¯t really for me.

    ¡±1394 people will die this night, unless someone prevents it,¡± Lictor says matter-of-factly. ¡±Mostly women, children and elders. The local volunteer militias will be taken by surprise and they would have no chance of changing the outcome, even if they weren¡¯t.¡±

    Finna turns her head so her hair covers her face, but I can almost feel the scowl.

    Mandollel crosses his arms and rolls his shoulders. ¡±We were not told about this. Our work should be elsewhere.¡± He is facing Lictor, but the last words are meant for me. ¡°Did you know about this?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°We¡¯d have to go in blind. It does feel like a suicide mission. Can you even teleport us around that fast?¡±

    Lictor shakes his head. ¡±I could, but multiple teleports inside Kerthar draw attention. Third one draws countermeasures.¡± He waves a hand dismissively. ¡°It doesn¡¯t really matter though, as teleportation will be made impossible inside the hour.¡±

    ¡±What!¡± Mandollel shouts. It¡¯s the second time I see him being affected by something, but this time he¡¯s not furious. He¡¯s panicked. ¡±What do you mean, Janitor?¡±

    ¡±Later tonight, early morning, over a hundred Kertharian mages will teleport into the sky above Tenorsbridge and proceed to attack the city. The city wizards will fight back and win, eventually. The death toll will be in the tens of thousands. Half of Tenorsbridge will burn. Other teleportation attacks will happen during the night. Nowhere in Velonea is safe. It¡¯s a terror tactic. They want to see as much of our lands and people burn as possible. It¡¯s murderous, monstrous. And it will cripple us.¡±

    ¡±Can¡¯t you trap the places where they teleport to?¡± Mandollel asks.

    ¡±Too finicky. Impossible to pinpoint the arrival locations in an empty sky. Ideas like covering the city with poison gas don¡¯t work either. The cost isn¡¯t¡­ acceptable.¡±

    Mandollel clicks his tongue. ¡±Ambush, then?¡±

    ¡±Too many casualties. Making teleportation impossible will stop these kinds of attacks completely, with minimal loss of life on both sides.¡±

    ¡±Both sides!¡± Finna shouts. She¡¯s been going through the footlocker and throwing around clothes and other personal items but now raises her head to glare at Lictor. ¡±Are you saying you¡¯re worried about them?¡±

    Lictor¡¯s face is neutral, but I can see a hint of distaste in the way his nose wrinkles. ¡±I¡¯m not. But the council has decided this is the way it¡¯s going to be done, so that¡¯s that.¡±

    Outside, I can hear Rworg shout or sing something. Maybe it¡¯s some sort of ritual for the dead Kertharians or for himself. My heart thumps in my chest. There are eight other camps and four hours to do something about it. We can¡¯t abandon over a thousand people. We can¡¯t keep fighting for four hours. I survived this fight because I knew what was going to happen. The thought is so alien that it leaves me reeling.

    Lictor drops a hand on my shoulder. ¡±Where to?¡±

    Finna is looking at us with a confused look. Mandollel is thinking about something. His fiddles with the buttons on his tunic, while Rworg is still howling outside.

    What the heck. ¡±Next camp. Far enough so we won¡¯t be spotted.¡±

    Finna¡¯s hands grab toward me. ¡±You¡ª!¡±

    <hr>

    We¡¯re elsewhere. Judging from the trees and the white boulders, rather close to where we left. I stumble and sit down hard on a small fallen tree trunk, wiping the imaginary cobwebs from my face. For all I care, they can¡¯t get rid of teleportation soon enough.

    Lictor leans on a tree. He puts his hands in his pockets. He takes out a handful of nuts from his pocket and starts chewing on them. He gazes at the sky, waiting for me to speak.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡±I needed to get away from the others.¡±

    ¡±Good thinking.¡±

    ¡±It would have been too hard to keep from revealing I¡¯m on a¡ª¡±

    ¡±I know.¡±

    I close my mouth. Of course he does. Not because he has necessarily seen this before, but because he¡¯s been doing this so much. I clear my throat. ¡±Can we handle all the camps this night?¡±

    ¡±Obviously not. The largest one has hundreds of soldiers in it. The best I¡¯ve seen you manage is four. Only Mandollel survived that one.¡±

    ¡±How far ahead have you gone?¡± I can¡¯t help asking. He could give me the answers. Why do I have to do this?

    ¡±24 hours. Always 24 hours. But you have to understand, the further you go and the more you meddle, the less you can trust what happens. The differences stack up, compound. That¡¯s the reason why you and the rest are here. We need people who can think on their feet, make the best out of any situation, without relying on the Mountain Ride.¡±

    Clouds cover the moon. Lictor¡¯s form fades into the churn of darkness, even though I try to focus my gaze on him. ¡°Once teleportation stops working, the Mountain Ride becomes useless. You can barely get out of the view of the city.¡±

    ¡°Not useless. Very, very powerful still. But yes. It will limit us greatly. Some feel it will be a blessing. Not having to be responsible for the whole world.¡±

    I can understand that viewpoint. Even with my limited spins on the Mountain Ride, I already know I¡¯d go mad. What if something were to happen to Lille or the rest of the village? I would need to check in on everyone I care about, every day, to be sure. I¡¯m starting to understand what Lictor said about it requiring a very certain type of personality to being a Janitor. I rub my face. ¡°Fighting the camps is not an option. We¡¯ll need to evacuate the towns, organize their defenders as best we can. Help where it¡¯s needed most.¡±

    I wait, but Lictor doesn¡¯t answer. I listen and hear his light, slow breathing. He¡¯s asleep, eyes closed and leaning on a tree, one hand still in his pocket. I let him be. He looks so peaceful and I haven¡¯t had a second to think properly since this morning. Moving silently, I take off my bow and quiver and set them next to me against the tree trunk. I slide down to sit on the mossy ground. The bark of the tree trunk makes a scraping sound against my tunic as I lean on it.

    Fighting can¡¯t have been anyone¡¯s real plan. We¡¯re a team of four. Well, maybe we¡¯ll be a team one day. The point is, we¡¯re not an army. We¡¯re supposed to be doing something else.

    This is part of my training. Getting used to all the new ideas. Replaying the night, so I have time to get up to speed. I wonder if everyone else has gone through a same kind of training regimen.

    I groan and clench my fingers around a piece of bark, breaking it off the trunk. Nothing is real on a Ride. I squeeze the damp piece of bark to feel it in my hand. I¡¯ve already died twice, but the thought feels irrelevant. I come back with memories, but trying to connect them to anything is impossible. My body leaves behind anything it has learned. It¡¯s like dreaming about shooting a bow, and believing you¡¯re an archer when you wake up.

    Still, if I¡¯d spend enough time on it, could I? Override muscle memory by engraving the skill into my memories over uncountable Rides. Learn to do a backflip, finally. Is that how Lictor is so good at magic?

    At least the villages are left behind as well. It doesn¡¯t really matter what happens to them. Not this time. I¡¯m not certain saving them is the end goal even in the real world. Not for us. Lictor needs a very specific group of people to do something very specific once teleportation has become impossible. Which means it¡¯ll probably be somewhere far from Tenorsbridge. Which means it¡¯ll very probably be a suicide mission, exactly as Finna said.

    What a cheerful thought.

    <hr>

    I form a plan while Lictor sleeps. It doesn¡¯t take long. We should have lots of time still left to do what I have planned. I shake him gently from the shoulder.

    He opens an eye groggily. I can see only the white of his eye before the iris spins into view. I wait and let him collect himself. I was about to lay out my plan, but I can¡¯t keep my curiosity in check. ¡°You really were out of it, weren¡¯t you? When did you last sleep?¡±

    Lictor yawns and leans his head down to his chest with a groan. He runs a hand through his thinning hair. ¡°About twenty or a hundred hours ago, depends on how you look at it. You don¡¯t necessarily need to sleep, but things sort of start to bleed in together if you don¡¯t take any time off on some Rides.¡± He mushes his nose and mouth with his hand, and slaps himself on the face gently. ¡°What next?¡±

    ¡°I want to learn as much about the area as possible. We¡¯re not here to fight with the camps, but we¡¯re here for some reason.¡± I watch for his reaction when I say this.

    There¡¯s none.

    ¡±I¡¯m here to learn something. A lesson of some kind. Getting to know the area is the best I can come up, if you don¡¯t want to tell it to me straight.¡±

    Lictor offers me his hand without a word.

    I grab it and brace for the teleport, but it doesn¡¯t happen. Lictor keeps touching runes on his clothes. They glow blue and burn away into nothing. The cloth is left tattered with blackened holes where the larger runes were.

    Lictor disappears.

    I do too.

    ¡°Hold on tight,¡± his voice says from next to me before I have time to be surprised.

    Through my grip on his wrist, I can feel him crouch, like preparing for a jump. Suddenly there¡¯s a wrench on my hand and the ground and the forest fall away from under me. The wind blasts my face and blocks the scream from getting out. The air is cold and crisp and the wind blows my hair around my face. My invisible hair whips around my face and stings my eyes. The sensation is singularly unpleasant. Still, I¡¯m not going to close my eyes. No way.

    Above, there¡¯s nothing but stars.

    ¡°We can get a better view from up here. Pay attention. You should learn where the camps are along your route. Pay attention, please.¡±

    I don¡¯t really hear him.

    I¡¯m flying.

    I twist and turn in the air, gripping Lictor¡¯s wrist hard. I can see the mountains in the north, lights of what must be Tenorsbridge somewhere far into the west. The slightest hint of red shimmers at the edge of the horizon. I¡¯m looking down as the ground drops even further, and the forest starts running away from under us. My stomach is left behind. The carpet is being pulled from under my internal organs.

    I hoot. I¡¯ve never been happier. This is exactly what I hoped an adventure would be like.

    I¡¯m flying!

 Chapter 9 - Long Blade of a Scythe

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    Lictor pulls us even higher. The air is colder than spring water. The ground looks to be moving slower, but we have to be moving faster than anything I thought possible. We whiz past a massive bird. It screeches, but the sound is left behind us in an instant. I try to hoot and scream something, but the air is so cold I gasp and close my mouth.

    We come to a halt above a camp. It has to be past midnight, and the sky is overcast, but Lictor has done something to my eyesight. I can make out every individual tree and tent of the camp.

    I point at the lack of torches and movement, immediately realizing the futility of the gesture. My hand is still invisible. Where I¡¯m pointing at the camp, there¡¯s just air. I roll my eyes. It hits me that no one can see the eyeroll either.

    ¡°What do you see?¡± Lictor says. I¡¯m still holding his hand, which makes it somehow much more bearable to have the invisible discussion.

    ¡°Same kind of camp, but there¡¯s no one here. Where¡¯s the nearest village?¡±

    ¡°Southwest. It¡¯s more of a large farm. You can see the smoke.¡±

    I squint against the icy air. It takes a moment for me to find where southwest might be. How does Lictor keep track of the landscape and the directions?

    ¡±I¡¯ll take you there.¡±

    ¡±No, wait, I¡¯m not sure¡ª¡±

    My words are cut short as I¡¯m wrenched into a new direction. The wind blasts my face. We descend so quickly I can feel as the air gets warmer. Trees rush toward us and keep coming closer and closer. My stomach ties itself in knots and I laugh and scream as we swoop past treetops so close I could probably reach and touch them. For a single heartbeat, torches flicker through the trees under us. I crane my neck to catch them again, but we¡¯re already too far.

    We descend and I¡¯m lowered down to the ground, an orange glow on my face. A large wooden house blazes before me. It¡¯s still standing, but won¡¯t be for long. Flames spout from its doors and windows and a column of smoke rises up, even blacker against the black of the sky.

    The fire casts everything in stark yellow and orange light. No one has been spared. The field before the house is full of the dead. They have been left where they fell. A little hand peeks out from under another body, equally unmoving. I turn my head away but my eyes land on a corpse of a Kertharian, skewered by a long blade of a scythe.

    Lictor¡¯s voice sounds out next to me. ¡±Some of the farmhands fight back. They manage to kill this attacker before getting hacked to pieces by the rest. The Kertharians leave the corpses. They don¡¯t care about anything except killing everyone who isn¡¯t one of their own.¡±

    I bite my tongue to keep from throwing up. The smell of burning wood carries other smells that I¡¯m trying not to notice. ¡±Why?¡±

    Lictor doesn¡¯t answer. Only the marks his boots press on the grass shows he¡¯s still here.

    ¡±What reason would they have for attacking a single farmhouse? It looks like they haven¡¯t taken anything from here. The carts seem to be all here! The cattle¡ª¡±

    An invisible hand settles on my shoulder. ¡±Locke. This will happen to all of Velonea unless they are stopped.¡±

    ¡±Why?¡± I scream.

    He squeezes my shoulder. ¡±I wish I could tell you, Locke. I can¡¯t, but I can prepare you. We all depend on you.¡±

    It¡¯s all far too much. I gasp and my eyes sting. I want to kill every one of them.

    ¡±I¡¯ll fly you over the area you¡¯re going to be covering. You¡¯ll have maps, but this way you¡¯ll get a better idea of the terrain. Your mission must succeed.¡±

    He grabs my hand and we bounce up into the sky. I still had questions, but they vanish as the overcast wall of clouds rushes down toward me. Tears flow from my eyes but are blown dry by the wind. Streams of salt groove my face.

    <hr>

    We spend hours flying. The cold numbs my anger, freezes it into a solid ball of determination, resting heavy in my gut. My eyes are nearly frozen shut and I can hardly see the land flying by below us. I try to focus, but my bones ache and my ears feel like they are burning. I know it¡¯s because there¡¯s something awful happening to them. Lille would scold me for letting myself get this badly frostbitten.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you cold?¡± I force out from between my chattering teeth.

    There¡¯s a wheeze next to me. Lictor doesn¡¯t sound good either. ¡°Yes. It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    I get it. I want to scream as my body is so cold and desperate and frightened, but I get it. I put my hand in my pocket and feel the spiky thing in it.

    ¡°We have one more thing we can do on this Ride.¡±

    We¡¯re descending lower and lower. The air is getting warmer, even if I¡¯m still colder than I have ever been. A bird screeches and takes flight next to the spot we land at. I note idly it¡¯s a Horned Thrush. Rare, hard to catch. Delicious. I haven¡¯t eaten anything in ages. Or at least in six hours. I curl up into a ball and hug my legs as Lictor shakes me off his wrist.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°It¡¯s time.¡±

    He¡¯s visible again. There¡¯s clumped ice all around his clothes, especially around the cowl and his neck. The amulet on his chest is hoary, glazed with frost. The ice on his eyebrows and eyelashes is already melting, but I can see the frostbite on his cheeks. It looks bad. His teeth chatter as he speaks.

    ¡°The Etherthorn Weave should be in place. It is done.¡± Lictor¡¯s shoulders slump and he brushes the water from his face. ¡°Pay attention. I¡¯ll show you what we have done to the world.¡± He points at a spot on the other side of the clearing. His mouth pulls into a grin, blue lips stretching to show his teeth. ¡°As good a way out as any other,¡± he says, winking at me.

    I follow his pointing finger and see another large rock at the other end of the clearing. It shines white in the gloom.

    From the corner of my eye, Lictor disappears.

    Something paints the rock black. Seen from far away, it¡¯s like someone spewing out paint from their mouth. The trees around the rock get splattered, as well.

    The smell of ozone lingers in the air. I sit in the quiet forest, alone.

    I try to find the teratome gland from my pocket. My fingers are so numb, it takes me multiple goes to get it out. I keep my eyes from the rock on the other end of the clearing. The spiky exterior of the gland flexes under my teeth before it bursts. I expect to taste something, but I don¡¯t.

    Nothing happens. Mayb¡ª

    <hr>

    The glow of the pyramid fades. Lictor releases my wrist and slaps his hands together. ¡°Good Ride! Great progress! Did you stay long after I left?¡±

    I¡¯m standing in place, mouth creased open. I lick my lips. I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m warm and the thought that I might be cold is remote and foreign. The bile in my throat is gone. I remember the farm and what Lictor did to himself, but the memories have no weight. It¡¯s like a story, told to someone else. I remember the anger but feel at ease, ready for an adventure.

    How could it have happened to me? Was it real? Who was it who wanted to kill all the Kertharians? Who was it who killed himself? My mind tearing apart at the seams. My sight starts to darken, and I stumble.

    I can¡¯t believe what I¡¯m saying, but I can¡¯t stop it either. ¡°I want to go home.¡±

    I fall on my knees and curl up into a ball. ¡±Home.¡±

    ¡±Ah,¡± I hear Lictor say, from somewhere far away. ¡±Rest, Locke.¡± Something brushes my temple.

    <hr>

    I wake up with a start. I have no idea where I was or where I am. There¡¯s a candle on a table and someone sitting on a chair next to the table. They lift their head.

    It¡¯s Lille. It has been a lifetime since I saw her last.

    Her eyes are black in the dim light of the candle, as she looks kindly on me.

    I sit up and rub my eyes to get them to open properly. There¡¯s drool on my cheek. Coarse wooden furniture around me. The smell of drying meat in the air.

    I¡¯m home.

    Lictor is nowhere to be seen. I¡¯ve been with him so intensely since leaving the village that it¡¯s odd not having him around. How did I get here? Does this mean that I¡¯ve flunked?

    Have I even been anywhere, for real?

    Lille watches me sweeping the room with my gaze. ¡±The Janitor brought you here and left. He said he put you through too much, too fast. Didn¡¯t sound sorry in the least.¡± She grimaces and looks out the window, then cracks a smile. ¡±Must have been quite an experience. You were gone for all of five minutes.¡±

    I remember the feeling of coming out of the last Ride. My head swims again, but maybe I¡¯m still groggy from the sleep. Outside, the horizon is dark, but there¡¯s a pink hue to the dark indigo. It has been more than five minutes now.

    ¡°You slept like a corpse. I¡¯ve been checking up on you for all night. What the hell happened there?¡±

    I wonder if I should tell her. If I¡¯m allowed.

    Lille sees me hesitate and crosses her arms. ¡°You know you can tell me. Those city wizards can play at controlling the world, but this is our village. You are one of us. I want to know what they are putting you up to. If it¡¯s a secret, it¡¯ll stay a secret.¡±

    I know I can trust her. I trust her more than myself. I run my tongue around my teeth. My mouth is sticky and I¡¯m famished. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re going to believe half of what happened.¡±

    ¡°Try me.¡±

    <hr>

    Durn fixes me with a withering stare as Lille brings me into the kitchen from the back. Lille shoos him off and gets me a sturdy breakfast. I¡¯m still in a daze. I have never been a heavy sleeper, but now it feels like I woke up from a coma. It¡¯s breakfast time and everyone else is eating on the other side of the wall, the bustle audible to where I¡¯m sitting.

    I tell Lille about the Mountain Ride. She listens silently. She doesn¡¯t seem dubious. Maybe I¡¯m confirming something she has already heard from the Janitors. Only once I start telling her about the Kertharians and the camps, does she react.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been fighting? And killing people?¡±

    ¡°Well, not for real,¡± I say, avoiding her gaze. ¡°It was on a Ride.¡±

    ¡°Locke, you¡¯re seventeen! They promised you wouldn¡¯t need to fight. One day I was planning to teach you about fighting people, but¡­¡±

    Lille¡¯s voice trails off. Durn is cutting up vegetables on the other side of the kitchen, trying to look like he¡¯s not listening.

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s not real. Maybe I don¡¯t need to do it for real. I¡¯ll try to avoid it.¡± I remember the farm and clench my teeth together. ¡±And people will die if I do nothing! A lot of people, for no reason at all.¡±

    She whips her gaze to the side and scowls. Her jaw clenches. ¡°You¡¯re a child. Maybe you¡¯re right about people dying, but it¡¯s still not your place to be fighting soldiers, killing other people. They are sending children to war. Exactly as Gran warned us.¡±

    The words are like a slap. I¡¯ve already experienced more than she ever might. Flown higher than an eagle. Fought actual battles. Died twice. ¡°Lille, please¡ª¡°

    ¡°No. I¡¯m calling this off. This is preposterous, inhuman. The Janitors are insane. The city can go to hell. If there is going to be war, it should be fought by adults.¡± Her scowl deepens word by word. She¡¯s pushing her hands on the wooden table so hard her knuckles are white and the boards creak.

    Lille¡¯s face is redder than I¡¯ve ever seen. ¡°I¡¯m going to Ral. You¡¯re not to talk to anyone outside of the village before the council has sorted this out.¡±

    It¡¯s final. I remember when Bann wanted to go fight a boar by himself and Ral forbade it.

    Bann went anyway.

    When Lille went after him, her face looked like it does now. Bann still hasn¡¯t spoken a peep about what happened then.

    ¡°Durn, Locke is back. This adventure was a mistake. Let him finish eating in peace.¡±

    Durn grunts at Lille¡¯s back. She¡¯s striding toward the door. As she grabs the handle, she stops. ¡°Locke, it¡¯s not your fault. We¡¯ll sort this out,¡± she says without turning around.

    The door slams shut. I sit at the table and let the spoon slide from my hand into the bowl. I¡¯ll never be allowed to go anywhere ever again. The image of the burnt farm flashes through my mind. Tears creep into my eyes as I listen to the sounds from the other room. Bann is telling a story, his deep voice cutting through the hubbub. I put my hands in my pockets and something sharp pokes my finger. Everything seems to stop, the voices in the other room fade.

    I take out the black gland. A small piece of paper is tucked under it.

    When you¡¯re ready for the next one, it says in a tiny scrawl. Below the text, a solitary L has been intricately drawn.

    Durn waves a dirty platter at me. ¡°Well, since you¡¯re back, you might as well do the dishes.¡°

    I put the gland into my mouth and bite down hard. Again, there¡¯s no taste or smell. Only a pop and air being released into my mouth from inside the thing.

    </section>

 Chapter 10 - The Wily Wizard

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    I open my eyes and the glow of the pyramid fades. Lictor is hanging on my wrist, but he releases it and steps away from the pyramid. I nearly lose my balance and wobble.

    Lictor watches me, like checking how I¡¯m going to react. ¡±Restful trip back home? Ready to go again?¡±

    My head feels groggy, and I yawn. The yawn goes on for a long while. I think of Lille¡¯s words, but then stop and try notto think about them. Things that happen on a Ride don¡¯t feel like anything once you¡¯re out, but what she said frightens me. During the discussion, I was hurt, frightened, my pride wounded. Now that the words feel like they were spoken to someone else, I worry they might make a lot of sense. I can bury the idea of going back to talk with Ral. Now I know what going back would mean.

    The breakfast I had in the village has disappeared from my stomach, but my mind is clear. I remember what Lictor said about sleep and Rides. I feel much better, even though I should feel exactly the same as always when returning to this moment. I squeeze my shoulderblades together and clench my fingers to test how my body feels.

    It feels normal.

    ¡±I put you to sleep and took you back home to rest. I thought you might need it. If you¡¯re not used to it, too many Rides in succession can throw you for a loop.¡±

    I¡¯m too bewildered to say anything. Lictor waits, his face impassive.

    ¡±Some Janitors find that joke funny. Anyway, one attempt left. R eady?¡±

    I stop testing my fingers. ¡±Wait. I want to discuss things properly. I haven¡¯t had a chance to think since you brought me here.¡±

    He¡¯s already walking toward the door. ¡±Very well.¡±

    I know the way already. I¡¯m deep in thought and walk past the clerk, following Lictor along the familiar path. He takes us to the fruit room, sits on his couch, and gestures at the other one.

    I sit and lean my elbows on my knees. ¡±My trip home only showed me that I can¡¯t go back or they¡¯ll try to keep me there.¡±

    This might be new for Lictor, too. He doesn¡¯t look absent or watch the ceiling, as he usually does. His posture is straight and alert, hands clasped together.

    ¡°But I¡¯m needed here. You¡¯ve been telling it to me the whole time. I wasn¡¯t chosen at random.¡± I take a long pause and look directly at him. ¡°Now that I¡¯ve seen what will happen unless it¡¯s stopped, I want to help. I need to.¡±

    He cracks a smile, relieved and gentle. ¡°I knew you do. Not because I organized it that way, but because you¡¯re a good man, Locke. Otherwise, we wouldn¡¯t have picked you.¡±

    I smile and frown at his words. I like being called a man, for once, but did he admit organizing it? What did he organize?

    The corner of Lictor¡¯s smile freezes. He unclasps his hands and opens them toward me. ¡°Anyway, what are you going to do next? Lay it all out on me. From now on, this all depends on you.¡±

    I sit up straight again. ¡±We¡¯re not here to fight random battles with Kertharians. There¡¯s something else you want us doing. The camp was an exercise for us to learn how to work together.¡±

    ¡±Not for them.¡± He points a finger at me. ¡°Only for you.¡±

    I stop and suck at my upper lip. That¡¯s right. The others were not included on the Rides. They don¡¯t know anything about what has happened. The real they are still waiting to meet me for the first time. I reach to take an apple from the table. ¡±Why me? Why am I the last?¡±

    ¡±We¡¯ve tried it in every order. It works best this way around.¡±

    I wait, but he doesn¡¯t continue. I stand up and start pacing around the room, bouncing the apple in my hand. ¡±We still have one Ride left, right? Why four Rides?¡±

    ¡±Four was as many as I wanted to risk. Using the artifact has its limits.¡± His eyes flicker to me. ¡°And you¡¯re less suited to using it than most.¡±

    ¡±Why am I less suited? Was the mole related to that?¡± I rub my forehead, but there¡¯s nothing there.

    Lictor rubs the back of his ear. His eyes trail the apple I¡¯m throwing from one hand to the other. ¡±Do you want a beer? I could go for something other than fruit this time. I can show you the city.¡±

    I would love to see the city.

    Ral always said that it¡¯s not great, but I want to know for myself. And Lille said I could have a beer once I grow up, but she¡¯s not here and I feel pretty damn grown up after everything that has happened.

    I nod at Lictor. I¡¯ll get one just out of spite.

    <hr>

    We march into the clerk¡¯s office, again. He doesn¡¯t try to greet us or say goodbye. He stares ahead, his face pale.

    We step out from a door that leads out of his office and into a small alley behind the building. Lictor leads me to a larger street, where it¡¯s dark and bright. The black sky looms above the spires and roofs of the city, but the glare of the streetlamps is also in my eyes. The light in the city has a blue hue, but it¡¯s punctuated by the yellow and orange of the torches and lights above some shop windows. Every door on the street is a different color, like no one even saw the other doors before putting up theirs. The smell is a cacophony of people, stone, smoke, and the ozone of the lamps.

    There are people hurrying somewhere, but not many. They have their heads down, like they are expecting something bad to happen and hoping to get back inside before it does. Most glance at us as we walk by.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Not at us. At Lictor.

    I imagine people would look at a famous criminal in the same way. Awestruck, but wary.

    ¡±What¡¯s going on?¡± I ask, watching the people hurry past and sneak their looks.

    Lictor walks ahead, ignoring the attention. ¡±People are wondering about what¡¯s going to happen later this night and worried about the pouring rain that is going to start soon.¡± He pushes open a thick wooden door. A sign above it clatters in the wind. It has a drawing of a winking man with a beard and a conical hat with the text Wily Wizard above everything.

    ¡±They worry about the rain, but not the teleportation attack?¡±

    ¡±We didn¡¯t tell the citizens any specifics. Merely asked everyone to stay indoors as much as possible. We bring in the rain to wash away the mess.¡±

    I swallow and follow him to a table. It¡¯s in a corner of the room, separated from the rest of the area by a wooden partition. A boy brings over two tankards of beer immediately after we have sat down. He doesn¡¯t say anything, only puts the mugs on the table and turns to leave immediately.

    ¡±Thanks!¡± I call out after the boy. He doesn¡¯t react.

    ¡±We made an arrangement with this place,¡± Lictor says. He pulls the amulet off his chest and places it on the table, drops his cloak to rest on the backrest of his chair. Finally, he rubs his hands together, picks up the tankard and smells the foam. ¡±Janitors and their guests get beer, food and privacy. We pay them monthly. It¡¯s quick and simple, and no one needs to have an existential crisis.¡± He takes a drink and smacks his lips. ¡°It¡¯s right next to the Ride Hall, there¡¯s a table reserved around the clock and the food here is excellent.¡±

    The boy is waiting at the counter. Someone brings him two steaming bowls of something from the kitchen. The smell wafts in our direction and my mouth starts to water. I grab the tankard to whet my appetite further. I¡¯ve had beer before, but not often, and never with permission.

    ¡°If we were not on a Ride, I wouldn¡¯t let you drink, but here, this also, doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Lictor says. He raises his mug at me and his beady eyes squint at me over its rim.

    I raise the beer and take a sip. It¡¯s different from what I¡¯ve had before. Clear, crisp, thin. It tastes sharp and less robust than the one Durn makes back home. I don¡¯t really like it, but like that¡¯s going to stop me.

    I place the mug back on the table. I¡¯m not yet ready to start with the real topic, so I ask something else. ¡°Why did people look at you like that?¡±

    ¡°On the street? They¡¯re not used to seeing a Janitor walking about.¡±

    ¡°How could they? Haven¡¯t you been around for a single day?¡±

    ¡°Rumours travel fast in this town. They say seeing a Janitor is bad luck. Means you might not be real.¡± A grin flickers on his face, but it disappears as soon as it appeared.

    Reading him is only getting harder. We¡¯re as close to the real world as we have been for a while. This should be a moment of authenticity for him. He can¡¯t have practiced this before, as we¡¯re so deep into the tangle of different Rides. Is this what he is like for real? He¡¯s still like a collection of unrelated moments. He licks his lips and drums the table as the bowls come closer. Yet he talks about the attack and the rain like it¡¯s administrative business to be taken care of.

    The boy pushes the two bowls onto the table. The smell is amazing. There¡¯s something in the stew that I can¡¯t place, some spice that I haven¡¯t encountered before. He keeps his eyes from meeting ours, and leaves again immediately. Now that I know what¡¯s going on, it feels more like a professional touch, instead of him being unkind or frightened.

    ¡°I never got to eat like this in my past life,¡± Lictor says. His nostrils flare as he picks up a spoon from the table. His tone is breathless and the look he gives me almost pleading. ¡°Try the meat. They season it for weeks.¡±

    I¡¯m getting whiplashed talking to him. I pick up a spoon as well. ¡°So, we¡¯re still on a Ride, right?¡±

    He makes an ¡®mm-hmm¡¯ sound, mouth already full and chewing.

    ¡°And after this one, we¡¯ll start doing whatever we¡¯re supposed to do for real? Can you tell me already what is going on?¡± I lift the bowl to sip at the stew. It is amazing. Salty, oily, thick with flavor.

    Lictor stops the spoon half-way up to his mouth and purses his lips. There¡¯s oil on his chin and fresh stains on his uniform. Yet the burnt holes are gone and replaced by new shining runes. Or old, to be more exact? ¡°Sure. You¡¯re ready.¡± His posture changes. He sits up straight and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. ¡°We¡¯re going to end the war before it begins. We¡¯ve spent collective years researching the situation, trying out different options, seeing how the Kertharians react to victories, losses or attempts at negotiation.¡±

    I lean forward in my chair. I¡¯m squeezing the spoon in my hand, waiting for him to continue.

    Lictor leans in too. ¡°They meet every attempt at negotiation with violence. No amount of casualties makes them slow down, hesitate, or even flinch. They don¡¯t stop to claim the spoils of their victories. They kill and keep on killing as long as they can find anyone who¡¯s not a Kertharian. They. Are. Insane.¡± He punctuates each syllable of the final sentence by tapping the table with his spoon.

    I swallow as I remember the woman with the wooden spatula. The savage look in her eyes as she crawled toward me, the arrow poking out of her back.

    ¡°They scream and crash over our lands like a wave, burying everything in their wake in fire. You saw the farm, but I can show you the ruins of half a dozen other settlements. Families slaughtered in their homes for not being Kertharians. You can let the still warm ash run through your fingers and watch the fires die down.¡±

    ¡°Um,¡± I say. The stew is getting cold and the beer warm, both forgotten.

    ¡°Wait, that was an odd thing to suggest, wasn¡¯t it?¡± he says and chuckles. He leans back and twirls his spoon in the stew, not meeting my eyes. ¡°Sorry. Sometimes you need to rub the experiences in to get them to stick. You¡¯re not there yet, don¡¯t worry.¡±

    Neither of us says anything for a moment. I consider tasting the stew, but I don¡¯t want to. ¡°So¡­ ending the war. How do I and the others play into it?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll go and take something deep into Kerthar that¡¯ll wipe them out.¡±

    The sentence feels like a punch to the stomach. A cold flush goes through me, then a hot. ¡°What!¡±

    ¡°Someone has to do it. It would have been impossible to handle by teleportation, even if the Etherthorn Weave wasn¡¯t an issue. The Kertharians catch on too quickly. And it¡¯s too far for anyone to do it inside a single Ride by other means. That¡¯s why we need a flexible team that can handle themselves and adapt to any situation.¡±

    ¡°No! I mean, what do you mean ¡®wipe them out¡¯?¡±

    Lictor puts down his spoon on the table. His eyes, like dark marbles, hard and cold, glint at me from below his brow. ¡°Think back to what I told you about them. Compromise is not an option. They need to be put down.¡±

    I thump the table, spoon pressed into my fist. ¡°We don¡¯t talk like that even about animals. We can¡¯t put down¡ª¡°

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly the point. They are worse than animals. They are not trying to survive or defend themselves. They are trying to exterminate everyone. I need you to understand this, Locke! This is not an ethical question. This is about survival.¡±

    My mouth is hanging open. The tavern is quiet. There¡¯s someone sitting at a table on the other end of the room, but they are reading a book, not paying attention to us. The boy has disappeared somewhere.

    ¡°Trying to fight them traditionally is pointless. And the end result is the same, even if we win. Every single Kertharian is willing to die to kill as many of us as they can. Whole families, from grandparents to grandchildren, will come at you with kitchen knives, flails, shears. They won¡¯t stop until they¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°That can¡¯t be normal. That makes no sense!¡±

    ¡°The reason doesn¡¯t matter. This is war, started by them, with no provocation.¡± He slams his fist into the table so the amulet and the bowls clatter. Some stew spills over from my bowl. ¡±They started it! We will end it.¡±

    </section>

 Chapter 11 - Burn and Burn and Burn

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    I stumble out of the tavern. I managed to drink les than half of the beer before I lost my appetite for anything. I still feel light-headed and nauseous.

    Lictor closes the door behind us. He is wearing his cloak again and draws himself up to his full height. He smells the air. ¡°We still have the whole night. Do you want to see the city now? I could show you the market square or the spire district. We could catch either before the rain.¡±

    I¡¯m cold. Colder than when flying over the forests and camps. The thought shakes something loose. ¡°Wait. Who¡¯s going to handle the camp this night? What are the rest doing?¡±

    ¡°Probably getting annoyed. Finna eventually loses her temper at Rworg and stabs Liam a bit after midnight.¡±

    ¡°A bit after midnight?¡± I repeat. My head¡¯s swimming.

    ¡°No, stabs him a bit. Anyway, it¡¯s not relevant.¡± Lictor¡¯s cheeks are flushed. He finished his beer, and it seems to have gone directly to his head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t really feel like a tour at the moment,¡± I say. ¡°Why is Finna part of the team, by the way? She seems¡­¡± I can¡¯t find a way to finish the sentence.

    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s a handful, for sure. But also one of the most talented thieves in the city. A prodigy. Untouchable.¡± Lictor¡¯s mouth draws into a smile. ¡°Until yesterday, obviously. I¡¯m offering her a different path.¡±

    I wonder how freely Finna took that path. Still, maybe it¡¯s good I learn of these things. ¡°And Rworg and Mandollel? Who are they?¡±

    Lictor walks briskly back toward the Ride Hall. From outside, it looks like a huge dome. I wonder what it was used for before the artifact was placed there. They couldn¡¯t have built it in a single day.

    Seeing the Hall reminds me of something that¡¯s been gnawing at me the whole time. ¡°Where did the Mountain Ride come from?¡±

    Lictor still doesn¡¯t answer. He keeps walking, head pulled between his shoulders.

    Physically, he doesn¡¯t look like anyone important or powerful. He¡¯s only about as tall as me, and his shoulders are narrow. His cowl is pushed back and I can see even his hair is thin and wispy. Ral or Bann could snap him in two. Even I could probably bend him a bit.

    He glances back at me and the thought is swept away. His eyes are black in the blue light of the streetlamps. The runes on his clothes glint and a spark jumps from a nearby lamp to one of them, spitting along the collar of his cloak. It jumps to his cheek with a snap. He doesn¡¯t even blink. ¡°Rworg and Mandollel are who they are. Who are you, Locke? Will you do what¡¯s necessary?¡±

    I don¡¯t reply. Doing what¡¯s necessary sounds sour suddenly. Preventing an attack, hurting someone I know, for a fact, would kill me, is one thing. Wiping out a nation, a people, is something else entirely.

    Lictor stops. There¡¯s no one around us. He points up at the overcast gloom. ¡°Soon, the sky would be filled with mages raining fire and death. We prevent that. Soon, the camps would launch their attacks. We¡¯ll prevent all but one of those.¡± He turns to face me properly. ¡°After this night, there is nothing we can do to help any of the border settlements: no warnings, no evacuation plans, no last-minute rescues.¡± He leans his face toward mine. ¡°Eastern Velonea will burn.¡± His voice is a barely audible whisper. ¡°And burn and burn and burn.¡±

    I swallow, even though my mouth feels dry. I remember Lille saying she would stop this, prevent me from taking part. For a moment, I wish that the discussion had been real after all.

    Lictor leans back and turns away. ¡°And then it will get worse. Unless they are stopped.¡±

    ¡°But is there really no other way to stop them? What does wiping them out even mean?¡± I¡¯m pleading. I always imagined I¡¯d be tough, do the right thing without hesitation, like the heroes in all of the legends. Now I¡¯m shivering and almost crying. I want to go home, but I grit my teeth. Lictor¡¯s pushing open the door back to the Ride Hall and the clerk¡¯s office.

    I follow him in and forget to shut the door as I try to keep up. Outside, the clouds hang heavy and dark, ready to hose down the streets.

    ¡°Leave it. It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Lictor calls to me. He¡¯s already halfway through the room.

    The clerk is nowhere to be seen and the breeze from the door sets a paper flying from his desk. The paper dances in the air, but suddenly stops and crumbles mid-flight. A woman, another Janitor, appears next to the desk. She must have been invisible too. Is the whole place filled with invisible Janitors? How many are there?

    She¡¯s holding the paper in her fist. She places it down on the table and walks to the door. ¡°Always have to clean up after him,¡± she mutters, pulling the door closed.

    My eyes go wide and I stop to stare at her. She¡¯s wearing a similar uniform as Lictor, but that¡¯s not the most striking thing about her. She¡¯s gorgeous. Tall, perfect skin, the blond hair spilling out from under her cowl the same color as the gold of the runes.

    She points at Lictor, who stops to look back.

    ¡°Ignore that dumbass,¡± they say at the same time.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    She winks at me. The wink makes my knees wobble.

    Lictor . ¡°Come on.¡±

    I sneak a final look at the woman, biting my lower lip, but jog to catch up to Lictor. His cheeks are still flushed from the beer, the walk outside, or the discussion from before. ¡°That was another Janitor? Is she on the same Ride as us?¡±

    ¡°No, she¡¯s a local.¡±

    ¡°Did she know we¡¯re on a Ride? Why didn¡¯t she freak out?¡±

    Lictor stops and frowns at me. ¡°She¡¯s a Janitor.¡±

    It seems that¡¯s all the explanation I¡¯m going to get. Lictor starts walking again and takes a hand out of his pocket to rub his eyes. ¡°That woman thinks we should respect the places we go through. She keeps lecturing me. It¡¯s demeaning.¡±

    I chuckle. I can¡¯t help it. He sounds so petulant.

    Lictor cracks a smile as well. He shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and pushes open the door to the main hall.

    The artifact flashes the moment we step in. Near the pyramid, a group of ten people are holding hands. They let go of each other and start filing toward the other end of the room. Most wear heavy armor, with a large stylized bridge embossed on their breast lates. The bridge must be the Tenorsbridge insignia, though I haven¡¯t seen it anywhere in the Ride Hall or on Lictor. Maybe the military uses it. Among the group are a few archers, and a man in a robe with the same insignia embroidered on his back.

    One of the armored people slaps the robed man on the shoulder. ¡°Think you got it now?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, yes. I¡¯m not used to people shooting arrows at me.¡±

    ¡°You have to dodge the first one and then you can ignore the rest.¡±

    ¡°They hit pretty close, though. One goes right through my sleeve!¡±

    ¡°Well, keep your eyes closed or something if it bothers you. Just finish the fireball in time, so we get the opening to¡­¡±

    I can¡¯t hear the rest of the discussion as they file out through the door. On the other edge of the hall, another door opens and a woman peeks in.

    ¡°Previous group all done?¡± she asks. ¡°Can we go? Do you mind? We¡¯re on a schedule.¡±

    Lictor waves his hand, signaling the woman to come in.

    The group enters, pulled in by the woman. Some bow stiffly at Lictor, while others roll their shoulders and adjust their gear. It¡¯s another squad, eight people this time. They link hands and the woman touches the pyramid. There¡¯s a flash, a hum, and nothing happens.

    The woman turns around and pumps her fist at her team. ¡°Great work! Do as we practiced and it¡¯ll go great.¡± Her face becomes serious, and she faces one of the men. ¡°Hank, we can¡¯t risk more tries, so¡­ be careful, ok?¡±

    ¡°Yes, captain,¡± a young man says. ¡°Last two times went great. I¡¯ll be fine!¡±

    ¡°Make sure you will. Ok, let¡¯s clear out. The next group needs to get going, too.¡±

    Lictor watches the group file out, his hands in the pockets of his overalls. ¡°You understand what¡¯s going on?¡± he says, without turning to me.

    ¡°They are the teams that are going to handle the Kertharian camps? How long were they gone for real?¡±

    ¡°Impossible to say from the outside. You could ask if you¡¯re really interested.¡± Lictor shrugs, but then pivots to face me, face pulling tight. ¡°I wanted you to see this. Do you understand the power that we wield at the moment?¡±

    I rub the back of my neck. They could practice whole wars. Perfect intelligence, flawless attacks, teams that could be transformed from random people who have barely met to elites in seconds.

    Lictor¡¯s face droops as soon as it had tightened. ¡°We¡¯re throwing it all away.¡±

    ¡±What is the Weave? How does it work? Can¡¯t you undo it?¡±

    ¡°The ether will be seeded with a tangle of barbed growths. Thicket reaching everywhere, strong as steel, impenetrable. Irremovable. Teleportation moves you in a straight line through the ether¡­ and through them.¡±

    I shudder, remembering his presentation earlier. Like a whole person pushed through a sieve. Which was basically what happened, now that I think about it. I shudder again, realizing that he did it to himself, willingly and flippantly.

    ¡°Oh well,¡± he says. ¡°What is decided, is decided. The council couldn¡¯t be dissuaded.¡±

    I get the feeling it was not for lack of trying. I wonder how politics work in Tenorsbridge, with the Mountain Ride in the picture. Who gets to use the artifact, anyway?

    The next team marches in from the other side of the hall. This time it¡¯s led by a man with an impressive beard. He starts organising his people and taps his foot, looking at us impatiently.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind us,¡± Lictor says to him and turns sharply at the door. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    There¡¯s a flash from behind my back. The hall is empty but for us and the team. ¡°Why are they so worried about the previous team being gone and us being here?¡±

    Next to the pyramid, the team is hooting and the team leader is slapping someone on the back.

    ¡°Think about it. Someone comes, touches the artifact and then starts to act like they¡¯ve just arrived to a Ride.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± I say. I pause and frown again. ¡°But we were there? What happened on the other end? How did we react?¡±

    Lictor pulls open the door. ¡°Not our problem. Janitors are pretty used to it. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    I shudder. The thought is like a wound that I can ignore as long as I stay still and don¡¯t happen to look at it. Of course I¡¯m real, but what if one day someone would prove otherwise? I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my teeth together.

    ¡°I said don¡¯t worry about it. We need to go.¡±

    His cloak billows behind him as he strides ahead, past the clerk and into the corridor. There are already too many things I shouldn¡¯t think about. I file the thought with the memory of the woman with the ladle and Mandollel decapitating me. He should be happy consequences don¡¯t matter on a Ride, because killing a Janitor and a minor in the middle of the city would probably be a big deal.

    I chuckle at the thought.

    As I walk, I wonder if all the preparation we did until this point was for nothing. I quicken my pace to catch up to Lictor and start walking beside him. ¡°Will we be involved with the camps at all? Why all the trouble with that one camp?

    ¡°The squads you saw will handle the camps, but not the one you went to. We can¡¯t get that one to work out for some reason. We used it to get your team some much needed battle experience, because you could have the whole camp to yourselves. Remember that you shouldn¡¯t attack that camp when you leave for real, though. Your mission is too important to risk.¡±

    ¡°But won¡¯t it be left to attack the village? We already handled it once. If we took the whole team and went on a couple of Rides¡ª¡°

    ¡°Your team is exceedingly bad at using the artifact. I don¡¯t mean that in the way that you lack skills or intelligence, but you¡¯re all very¡­¡± Lictor scratches his cheek before continuing. ¡°¡­unsuitable to using it. The risk seems to get multiplied by the number and type of people, so if your team goes in together, it¡¯s a coin toss if you come out looking like people or goo even on the first try.¡±

    Is turning into goo really a possibility? I shudder. He already mentioned limits on using the Ride earlier. If I believe that, his words might make sense.

    I¡¯m not so sure about the rest of the situation. ¡°Why us? Why not gather a team who could use the Ride, make sure they succeed?¡±

    Lictor stops, puts his hands in his pockets, lowers his chin to his chest. ¡°We tried. Tried and tried and tried. We¡¯re boxed in. The Etherthorn Weave will be put into place. The Ride lasts 24 hours, so the whole mission can¡¯t be practiced. We need a team that can do this on the first try, without a safety net.¡±

    He turns to face me. ¡°Your team.¡±

    </section>

 Chapter 12 - No More Rides

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    I rub the back of my neck. I try to hold back the grin, but Lictor¡¯s not looking at me and there¡¯s no reason to hide the pride I feel.

    My team!

    It sounds like I¡¯m not just part of the team. It¡¯s my team. We¡¯re heading to the room where the others have been waiting on all the previous Rides. I shake my head, pull my thoughts together. Maybe he has said the same thing to everyone else as well, been through each of us like this. We all may have been the last member of the team to be introduced. At one point or another. But maybe not for real?

    I squeeze my eyes shut as my temples throb. Trying to track what is real, what has happened, what is going to happen, is too much. I stop in my tracks.

    Lictor is already drawing the gesture to unlock the door, but stops when he notices I¡¯ve been left behind. He turns to me. ¡°Locke?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t deal with this. I need to get out,¡± I say.

    He doesn¡¯t hesitate, just nods. ¡°You might be correct.¡± He pauses, runs a hand through his hair. Breathes in and out. ¡°Still, this is the last one. Once we¡¯re back, we¡¯re back for real. You have to remember that. No retries after this.¡±

    I nod.

    He nods. ¡°You want to go and grab the gland? Or will I handle it?¡±

    I feel a shiver run down my spine. I nod and swallow. ¡°Not teleportation.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s still three hours before the Weave is in place.¡± He yanks the amulet pinned to his chest into his hand and squeezes it. A lid pops open and reveals a circle of golden runes inlaid into the black iron. Lictor presses his thumb in the middle of the runes and they light up blue. I watch as the amulet itself starts to glow bright white. The light stings my eyes and then the white explodes to engulf me.

    <hr style="text-align: center; border: none; margin-top: 1.3em">

    The glow of the pyramid fades. We¡¯re back. Lictor releases my wrist.

    I pat my clothes and blink my eyes. Again, there¡¯s no sensation left of what happened. This time it was basically as quick as with the gland. Useful, I think, before realizing he¡¯s walking around with a bomb pinned to his chest.

    Lictor rubs his chin and considers something for a while. He then rearranges his face in a way that I haven¡¯t seen yet. His eyes dart from one corner of the hall to another, attentive and alert. He rolls his shoulders and pulls himself up to his full height. ¡°Ready? This is where we begin for real.¡±

    I take a deep breath. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    He marches toward the door. I nearly bump into him, as I expect him to walk right through. Instead, he stops and knocks on the door. He waits for a moment and pushes the door open.

    The clerk looks at us and smiles as we step in. The quill is in the inkpot. ¡°Welcome back, sir Janitor. Found your man, eh?¡±

    ¡°I did, indeed,¡± Lictor says. He beams at the clerk. ¡°All proceeding well on this end?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir Janitor. The teams are gathering and will start the training runs in an hour. Just as it was planned.¡±

    ¡°Exemplary Liam, as always! How¡¯s the knee?¡±

    ¡°Much better, thank you. I appreciate the chance to rest it.¡±

    Lictor smiles and waves a hand dismissively. ¡°Of course, don¡¯t mention it. Tell your parents I said hello.¡± He then turns to me. ¡°Let me introduce you to Locke before we go. He¡¯s the last member of the special team.¡±

    The clerk stands up and bows at me.

    My mouth is hanging open. I don¡¯t know if I feel nauseous or delighted. So the Liam that would have gotten stabbed is the same clerk we¡¯ve run past so many times. He really has the worst job, doesn¡¯t he? But does it really count if he gets stabbed or ignored if it happens on a Ride?

    Lictor nudges me with his elbow. ¡°The boy is a bit shell-shocked. First time he¡¯s in a big city. We took a couple of Rides to show him around.¡± He glances at me and squints his eyes momentarily in warning.

    ¡°Oh, it can be a lot. Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± the clerk says and smiles at me.

    ¡°Oh,¡± I say. I gather myself. ¡°Yeah, it was. It¡¯s great to be back. Pleasure to meet you¡­¡±

    ¡°Liam,¡± he says and smiles. ¡°We¡¯ll see each other around, Locke. Good luck on the mission!¡±

    I bow to him. Lictor nods at the man and starts walking toward the door.

    <hr style="text-align: center; border: none; margin-top: 1.3em">

    I expect we¡¯d go back to the room with the assortment of fruits and the gland, but Lictor walks past it. I glance at the door in confusion.

    ¡°It¡¯s for Rides,¡± he says without slowing down. He continues directly to the room where we¡¯ve met the rest. Everyone is already there. The positions are slightly different as we¡¯ve arrived yet again at a different moment.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Mandollel looks like he¡¯s just about to start speaking when he notices us. He rises up and bows low. ¡±You must be Locke,¡± he says.

    I flinch as I remember how he reacted that one time. I hesitate before saying anything.

    Mandollel watches me for just a moment and continues talking after the briefest pause before it has a chance to turn awkward. ¡±Pleasure to meet you. We¡¯ve heard much about you from Lictor. I believe we¡¯ll make a great team,¡± Mandollel says and smiles at me. It¡¯s the most disarming smile I¡¯ve ever seen. I wouldn¡¯t feel awkward hugging him. ¡±My name is Mandollel.¡±

    I blink a couple of times. I bow to him hastily and turn to bow also to Rworg and Finna.

    Rworg bows to me like he did the first time, sitting and fists planted on his knees. Finna grunts.

    ¡°We all know what¡¯s at stake,¡± Lictor says.

    I breathe out, beyond relieved he¡¯s taking the lead this time.

    ¡°The Kertharians will escalate the war this night. We will beat them back, but only tonight. Tomorrow, Velonea will descend into war and fire and death.¡±

    ¡°We know this,¡± Rworg says, his guttural pronunciation making him sound even gruffer than the words are in themselves.

    ¡°It¡¯s even worse than what I¡¯ve told you so far. Teleportation will be made impossible this night.¡±

    ¡°What!¡± Mandollel shouts. The smile has been wiped off his face, replaced by visible shock. ¡°Why? How?¡±

    ¡°The ether will be trapped. Nothing can move through it without getting shredded. Silloin has been informed, and they have accepted the cost.¡±

    Mandollel leans back and breathes out. His face still carries doubt, but the elven name mentioned seems to have calmed him down. I wonder if it¡¯s a person or a place, but I¡¯m not about to ask right now. I feel enough of a country bumpkin to begin with.

    ¡°This is a new development. Kerthar has too many powerful mages that could destroy half of Velonea without us being able to do anything about it if we let them run loose. Stopping teleportation makes them much less of an immediate threat, but after this night, our reach is limited as well.¡±

    Rworg clears his throat. When he does it, even that sounds dangerous. ¡°Irrelevant! We will walk.¡±

    Mandollel is thinking something over, hand rubbing his smooth chin. ¡°Wait, Rworg. I¡¯ve never seen powerful wizards care about any war efforts. Why do they take part now?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± Lictor says. ¡°They never have, and the ones on our side still won¡¯t. Yet we¡¯ve seen nearly every noteworthy Kertharian magic user take part in the invasion.¡±

    I feel a cold shiver coming. It¡¯s all starting to make sense. I turn to Lictor, even though I¡¯m not sure if I want to hear the answer. ¡°You think we¡¯ll lose the war. The Etherthorn Weave won¡¯t solve anything. It¡¯s a delay. You¡¯re buying time.¡±

    He nods. ¡°For you to do your part.¡±

    I shiver in earnest. Mandollel grimaces and nods as well. I hear a muttered curse from Finna¡¯s direction.

    ¡°Do it we will,¡± Rworg says. ¡°Our madness will burn the world. We will stop it.¡±

    ¡°Do the rest of you know the plan already?¡± I ask. I thought I had been told more than the others, but it seems that¡¯s not true.

    ¡°Everyone knows something,¡± Lictor says. ¡°It¡¯s hard to keep people like Mandollel or Finna in the dark.¡± He looks like he¡¯s about to roll his eyes but catches himself.

    Finna snorts.

    Mandollel crosses his arms, his face grave. ¡±I would normally never agree to this, but I¡¯ve seen enough to know this is not a normal border dispute. Conduct of war does not apply here.¡±

    ¡±Agree to what?¡± Rworg asks.

    Lictor clears his throat. ¡±We have built a magical device that will amplify and diffuse the effects of a spell to cover the whole of Kerthar.¡±

    Rworg grumbles something and throws a look at Finna.

    She groans and sighs and squirms on her couch. ¡±It¡¯s a bomb. They¡¯re going to blow them all up.¡±

    ¡±Nothing so crass. The device is painstakingly artificed to affect only Kertharians, leaving anything less intelligent than humans alive.¡±

    I frown as I put together everything I know of the war. ¡±Painstakingly artificed? When?¡±

    ¡±Well¡­¡± Lictor stretches the word out. He puts his hands in his pockets and fiddles with something with his right hand. ¡±This morning. We got the last piece for it only today, thanks to Mandollel. It would be more accurate to say it was extremely hastily artificed yet painstakingly tested. It will work.¡±

    I nod. It seems to be how things work here.

    Mandollel glances at the ceiling, but also nods after a moment. He runs a hand through his shiny hair, tossing it over his shoulder. ¡±If there was any other option¡ª¡±

    ¡±Yet there isn¡¯t,¡± Lictor interrupts him. ¡±We¡¯ve spent years working this out. All predictions point to total mutual obliteration if the war is allowed to continue. The only way to guarantee peace is to nip this in the bud.¡±

    ¡±Just so,¡± Rworg says.

    At least someone sounds like they¡¯ve made up their mind. Can he really be ok with destroying his own people?

    ¡±As long as I get my pardon. And paid,¡± Finna says. Her voice trembles just slightly and she glances at me from under the tangle of her hair. She notices I notice and turns away, jaw clenched tight.

    ¡±Tenorsbridge will be in your debt. We will¡ª¡± Lictor stops as he sees the face Finna¡¯s making. ¡±100 gold, as agreed,¡± he says flatly.

    Finna nods, even if she doesn¡¯t seem happy about it.

    I raise an eyebrow at the amount, but hearing a creak makes me turn to Mandollel. He¡¯s tensing all over, the leather of his bracers straining as he pushes his arms to his chest. His face is tight, matching the tone of his voice. ¡±Janitor, I¡¯m prepared to do what¡¯s necessary, but there are actual children on this team. You can¡¯t saddle them with this. Let us at least talk with the council¡ª¡±

    Lictor interrupts him again. I wince. The way Mandollel snapped that one time flashes in my mind. ¡±There¡¯s no time. There¡¯s no use. The plan and the device have been perfected over hundreds of tries. Please, this is the only route that makes sense.¡±

    ¡±Sense?¡± Finna asks.

    Lictor nods and turns back to Mandollel to answer. ¡±Any other option just prolongs or delays the inevitable. Nothing can be done to save the Kertharians. They¡¯ve done something to themselves.¡± Lictor¡¯s eyes are wide open, his teeth bared. He takes out his empty hands from his pockets and shows them to the two men. ¡°It¡¯s out of our hands.¡±

    ¡±I¡¯ve seen it,¡± Rworg says. ¡±The Janitor speaks the truth.¡±

    Mandollel turns away, sighing deeply.

    I get a weird feeling. Like something¡¯s missing. I turn to look where Finna was sitting.

    She¡¯s still there, but completely still. Her eyes are tracking Lictor¡¯s face, her whole face focused on him.

    Lictor pays her no mind. He steps toward the two men, talking about what the city strategists have predicted for the next days and weeks. Talking about the atrocities the Kertharians will perpetrate and how far they anticipate they will push in the coming weeks. About the death toll.

    Finna glances at me. For a moment, the mask slips and I see it. She looks lost, terrified. The hardness returns immediately. She draws her mouth into a thin, pale line and her nostrils flare.

    For a moment, it looked like she might need someone to comfort her, but now she looks again like she would probably bite me if I tried to pat her on the shoulder. Still, I edge toward her. I give her a questioning look and glance at Lictor, still talking with Rworg and Mandollel.

    She glances up at me. ¡°He¡¯s full of crap,¡± she murmurs.

    </section>

 Chapter 13 - Things Not Adding Up

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    I swallow and drop onto the couch next to Finna. She glances at me, but lets it happen. Up close, her hair looks thick enough for a rat to get lost in it. I hope one hasn¡¯t. At least it doesn¡¯t smell that way, so maybe I¡¯m safe. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I hiss.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t add up.¡±

    Lictor has one hand on Mandollel¡¯s shoulder and the other on Rworg¡¯s. ¡°Do you see?¡± he¡¯s saying.

    I glance at Finna. I remember Lille telling me about Janitors and how they only say what they believe is the best option for them, so long ago.

    Still, I¡¯ve also seen what he is telling the others now: how single-minded the Kertharians are. The lengths Tenorsbridge is willing to go to stop the teleportation attacks. Without the Etherthorn Weave, the Janitors would be basically unstoppable. Tenorsbridge wouldn¡¯t throw that away unless it was the only possible option.

    I remember something. Lictor talking about the losses on both sides.

    He turns to us. ¡°Locke, Finna, we¡¯ll need you as well. I understand this is highly unorthodox and many feel sending children to do something like this can¡¯t be right. But you¡¯re not children. You¡¯re one of the most proficient thieves in Tenorsbridge. You¡¯re the most promising hunter we¡¯ve seen, flexible and able to think outside of the box. We need you.¡±

    I hesitate. The look he gives me reminds me of the Lictor I met way back in the village¡­ earlier this afternoon. How he cowed Lille. And me too, obviously. Muscles of his face are taut, eyes unwavering, gaze pressing down on me. I¡¯m ready to agree just to get him to stop staring at me.

    ¡°No,¡± Finna says.

    I turn to Finna, my mouth open. She looks back to me and squints her eyes just slightly. It¡¯s some sort of sign, meant just for me.

    ¡°I know you have your doubts, but I¡¯m willing to negotiate on the price.¡± Lictor¡¯s tone is level. He turns his gaze to Finna, who leans away from him. I haven¡¯t talked much to her on the earlier Rides, but being that wary of someone doesn¡¯t fit the image I have of her. Her eyes flick at me again for just a heartbeat, imploring.

    I swallow and raise my hand to grab Lictor¡¯s attention. He turns back to me. The look feels like physical pressure.

    ¡°Wait, I¡¯ll make her understand,¡± I say. ¡°Give us a moment. We¡¯ll talk it out.¡±

    He takes a moment to consider, his gaze sweeping the four of us. ¡°We¡¯re in a hurry. The window of opportunity is closing. Everything you¡¯ve learned will change if we loiter for too long.¡±

    I glance at Rworg and Mandollel. Mandollel is looking at Finna and me, smiling in a sad way that makes me feel like I¡¯m a small kid. When Lictor turns away, his face changes, brows furrow tightly. ¡°What?¡± he mouths at us.

    Lictor glances at him, but the smile has returned on his face and he gives a knowing look at Lictor. Lictor harrumphs, and a smile creeps up on his face too.

    ¡°I guess we can spare a moment. You have to learn to trust and work as a team, after all.¡± He nudges his head at Mandollel and Rworg and turns to walk to the door. They walk out and I hear a click as the door closes.

    Finna stands up and starts pacing in a tight circle the moment the door closes, her hands gesturing sharply in rhythm with her words. ¡°This doesn¡¯t add up! The fossils are limp and soft and now they¡¯re blowing up a whole country?¡±

    ¡°Wait? Fossils?¡±

    ¡°The council! The nobs. Lictor isn¡¯t the only one using the pyramid, but he¡¯s the only one talking to us. And he¡¯s telling a different story to everyone. He wants us to just go and not ask any questions. Why would he do that?¡±

    ¡°Because we¡¯re in a hurry?¡±

    ¡°How can we be in a hurry? Think, stupid!¡±

    I frown and glance to the side. Lictor told me about the limits on using the Ride, but what proof do I have that the limits actually exist? I have had to take a lot of what he has said at face value. Why? Because I¡¯ve been harried, kept off-balance. My frown deepens. I stand up as well, so I don¡¯t have to crane my head to look at her while talking.

    ¡°You can¡¯t just trust powerful people. Nothing gets you killed as fast.¡±

    It sounds like she knows what she¡¯s talking about. Her dark eyes bore into me from under her tangle of hair. She is sure about what she is saying, but I¡¯m not sure of her yet. ¡°He is just¡ª¡°

    ¡°He¡¯s talking about killing everyone in Kerthar! Child, woman, everyone! How am I the only one who thinks it¡¯s insane!¡±

    ¡°But they are trying to kill us¡ª¡°

    ¡°Says who?¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    I close my mouth. I¡¯ve seen them fight. I remember the look in the woman¡¯s eyes. The burning farm. I trust Lictor when he says the Kertharians are out for blood. Yet, why is it so? They¡¯ve done something to themselves, he said. Could it be undone? He said they¡¯ve tried everything though. He said. My head¡¯s spinning.

    ¡°We need to get out,¡± Finna says. Her face is set. ¡°We brain him when he comes in, get out of Tenorsbridge, as far as we can. You can come along if you want, but I¡¯m not going to¡ª¡°

    ¡°Wait, wait. That¡¯s not¡­¡° Finna looks ready to interrupt me, so I stop talking before she does. This discussion is going to get out of hand soon. I raise a hand between us, signaling her to wait. I breathe for a moment and think.

    I suddenly know how things are going to go and the thought feels like cold water trickling down the back of my neck. Finna watches. I sigh and meet her gaze. ¡°Look. I think we¡¯re going to do it. He¡¯s going to talk us into it. He knows you. He¡¯s put this team together many times already.¡± I shiver in earnest and swallow. ¡°I think¡­ I¡¯m the wild card here. I¡¯m the last one brought in. He hasn¡¯t had as many chances to try to learn what I¡¯m going to do.¡±

    There¡¯s a steady, solid rap with knuckles on the door.

    ¡°Cool it!¡± Finna shouts.

    ¡°Just a moment, please!¡± I shout.

    I¡¯m not sure if I imagine or hear the sigh through the door, but the knocking stops. I¡¯m also not sure if I believe Finna or if any of this makes any sense at all. There¡¯s too much at stake for us to start throwing wrenches into whatever has been planned.

    Finna shivers. I can see her shake and grimace. ¡°That guy gives me the creeps. It¡¯s not right to know what others are going to do.¡±

    My eyebrows shoot up. I bite my lip and raise my index finger into the air, thinking furiously. Stakes or plans might not matter. Not here. There¡¯s always a chance to try something new, and another chance. I turn back to Finna. ¡°I need to get on a Ride.¡±

    She opens and closes her mouth, then nods. ¡°Distraction.¡± She raises her voice just a bit. ¡°Got it, Peacock? A distraction.¡±

    I glanced at her, confused. She¡¯s looking at the door. I glance at the door as well, just as there¡¯s another knock.

    Finna takes a breath. ¡°What do you mean?¡± she shouts. ¡°You bastard!¡±

    The knocking stops and there¡¯s a click from the lock. I turn to Finna, my eyes wide, as she pushes me on the chest.

    Lictor opens the door. He¡¯s about to say something as I stumble back, arms swinging.

    ¡°You bastards are on a Ride now!¡± Finna screams.

    My foot catches on something and I spin, trying to keep my balance. Mandollel is standing behind Lictor at the door and his eyes go wide. The sight makes me feel like I¡¯ve been punched in the stomach. Last time got me killed. This time, it would be for real.

    Lictor tries to say something, but Mandollel rushes inside, pushing him into the room as well. He grabs the front of Lictor¡¯s overalls. His eyes are wide, all whites visible. ¡°What are you saying?¡± he bellows.

    I lose my balance finally and fall down on my hands and knees in front of the door. I see Rworg¡¯s huge legs and hear raised voices from behind me. Lictor is talking behind me. He sounds worried and annoyed and conciliatory at the same time, even if I don¡¯t catch the words. I twist my head to look back and see Mandollel gripping Lictor¡¯s overalls in his fist, nose pushed against Lictor¡¯s face.

    Ah.

    Distraction.

    Lictor is standing on his tiptoes, pulled up by Mandollel¡¯s grip. Finna nudges her head at the door, glaring down at me.

    I glance up at Rworg, who stares at me with a look of total confusion on his tan face.

    ¡°Go,¡± Finna mouths, her gaze flicking between me and Mandollel holding up Lictor. She rolls her eyes, pushes her lips together at me and breathes out through her nose.

    I push on my hands to slide out of the room. I run so hard my feet skid on the corridor floor as I turn to run back toward the clerk¡¯s room. I glance back to see Rworg watching me with his mouth open. He has his finger raised, pointing at me, but then I guess something happens in the room and he turns to look inside.

    I run.

    <hr style="text-align: center; border: none; margin-top: 1.3em">

    ¡°Hey!¡± Liam shouts.

    I¡¯m already halfway through the room when he does. His heads spins left and right as he looks around.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the¡­ hey!¡±

    I pass his desk and I¡¯m nearly at the door already.

    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to¡ª!¡°

    <hr style="text-align: center; border: none; margin-top: 1.3em">

    I burst through the door into the hall. I breathe a sigh of relief as I see it¡¯s empty. The hall is large, and it¡¯s a long run to the pyramid. I have time to wonder why there is no security of any kind. I guess you don¡¯t need security if you know everything that is going to happen beforehand. Unless something completely new happens.

    I reach the pyramid and slap my hand on it without thinking. There¡¯s a flash, a low hum, and nothing happens. Nothing feels different. I flex my fingers for a moment, and consider if I should touch the pyramid again, like Lictor did earlier.

    Someone clears their throat behind me.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t advise it, kid,¡± a voice says. She sounds vaguely familiar.

    I swallow, my hand still hovering above the pyramid.

    ¡°Really. The side effects can be pretty nasty. You¡¯re not great with the artifact.¡±

    I turn slowly to see the lady Janitor from earlier. She¡¯s wearing the same kind of clothes as Lictor, ornate and practical at the same time. The amulet on her chest has the compass, but it has no needle for some reason. Her golden hair shines nearly silver in the blueish light of the hall.

    I lower my hand. ¡°Um,¡± I stammer.

    ¡°Come on, stray. Let¡¯s go.¡± She nudges her head toward the door. ¡°You have until we reach Liam to convince me that you have a good reason to be here.¡±

    ¡°Um,¡± I say, but start walking after her. There¡¯s no time to think, so I just tell her. ¡°I¡¯m trying to find out what the mission is that we¡¯re being sent on.¡±

    ¡°Lictor has briefed you, hasn¡¯t he?¡± Her strides are so long, taking us to the door way too fast.

    ¡°Yes, but we have doubts!¡±

    She stops, turns her head to look at me. ¡°Hmm,¡± she says.

    ¡°We¡¯re being rushed! He tells each of us something different. Some things don¡¯t add up.¡± I¡¯m just repeating what Finna said, as I¡¯m still not sure what my own opinion is.

    ¡°We try a lot of things. Sometimes the best solution can look very unintuitive to people who only experience things once.¡± She raises an eyebrow as she speaks.

    The gesture almost makes me forget what she said. Her features are perfectly symmetrical, her hair shinier than any I¡¯ve seen. She doesn¡¯t smell like anything. I fight the urge to push closer to her to catch at least something. The idea is both stupid and almost irresistible. It¡¯s hard enough not to stare and to keep my mouth from hanging open. ¡°We¡­ just want to make sure there isn¡¯t another way.¡± I say, finally.

    She chuckles and starts walking again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean his way wouldn¡¯t work!¡± We¡¯re practically at the door already. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it would.¡±

    She stops for a moment. Crinkles the corners of her eyes just a bit.

    I swallow, wait for her to say something.

    ¡°Come on,¡± she says, pushing open the door to the clerk¡¯s office.

    </section>

 Chapter 14 - Minerva

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    Liam is just inside the door, wringing his hands as we step in. Why didn¡¯t he follow me in? Is he not allowed to? Was he afraid of something?

    The Janitor waves a hand at the clerk. ¡°No harm done. I caught our young guest before anything could happen. You can leave this out from the log.¡±

    ¡°But, Lady Janitor?¡±

    ¡°Relax, Liam. It¡¯s all good.¡± She smiles at the clerk. Even if the smile isn¡¯t aimed at me, I nearly stumble as my knees feel suddenly weak. ¡°We¡¯re heading out. Close your mouth, kid.¡±

    I snap my mouth closed and follow her. I guess I¡¯m in the clear, after all. She could have just killed me if she had wanted me out of the Ride or taken me to a cell or something. We exit through the same door as with Lictor and I expect us to go to the Wily Wizard, but she walks us past it.

    I¡¯m mildly disappointed. From what little I managed to taste last time, the stew was really good. I wanted to try it properly this time. It¡¯s an odd thought to be having, when I¡¯ve just run away from Lictor and gone on a Ride on my own. And been caught by another Janitor. I must be in more trouble than anyone has ever been.

    We arrive at another pub and she scans the room for an empty table. The pub is actually too fancy to be one. Everything has gilded decorations and the waiters are dressed in fine uniforms. One waiter bows to her and escorts us to a table. She asks for a coffee and says we will consider eating after a moment.

    I hold my hands on my lap and wait.

    ¡°So, kid, please, tell me what the trouble is,¡± she says as the waiter has gone.

    I prepare myself for a long explanation, putting the pieces in place in my mind. I take a deep breath. ¡°Ok, I know it seems there¡¯s no other way than killing all the Kertharians¡ª¡°

    ¡°What?¡± Her face tightens.

    ¡°The device we¡¯re supposed to take to Kerthar?¡±

    She takes a long break, breathing in through her nose. ¡°I have to admit I¡¯m surprised,¡± she says after a moment.

    I could have guessed as much. I need to ask the real question. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not my area of responsibility, but as far as I understood, the plan was to postpone the problem.¡±

    I¡¯m speechless. We both are.

    ¡°Postpone?¡± I finally ask.

    She doesn¡¯t seem to hear me. Her brow is furrowed. The waiter comes back and brings her the coffee. It¡¯s pitch black, glinting rich brown, served in a laughably small and dainty cup on a delicate saucer. She thanks the waiter and takes a careful sip.

    ¡°What do you mean¡ª?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know any more than that. Somehow, they want to buy us time to try to solve the problem without too much bloodshed.¡±

    ¡°Buy us time?¡±

    She takes another sip and the corners of her mouth edge up. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s literally what they are going to do? Would that be more surprising than everything else you have experienced today?¡± A smile flickers on the edges of her eyes.

    I think about it. ¡°Well¡­¡±

    ¡°Actually, it would be,¡± she says. ¡°We know even less about working with time than we know about using the Mountain Ride.¡± She sighs deeply and drinks the rest of her coffee.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    What does she mean they don¡¯t know much about using the Mountain Ride? It sounds like a slip, not something I was intended to hear. The contrast with Lictor is striking. He kept me off-balance intentionally, but I think she is just as lost as I am. It must be rare for a Janitor to be part of someone else¡¯s Ride and not the other way around. I almost feel sorry for her. ¡°You¡¯re different from Lictor,¡± I say aloud.

    ¡°I should hope so. We have our own areas of responsibility and we¡¯re suited to those. Mine is cleaning up. That¡¯s why I¡¯m spending real time on you.¡± She places the coffee cup on the small saucer that it came with.

    ¡°Real¡­ wait, right, you¡¯re not on a Ride!¡±

    ¡°Shh, not so loud,¡± she says and pouts at me in mock disapproval. ¡°We¡¯re in a nice place.¡±

    The couple from a table near us glance at us. They look like caricatures of what Lille has said people in the city are like. Dressed in clothes that look expensive and uncomfortable, distaste evident on their faces as they look at me.

    I raise my hand to flip them off, but the Janitor grabs my wrist and pushes my hand down.

    ¡°Kid, please.¡± Her tone is now firm.

    My cheeks burn. I knew it was a childish thing to try to do, but who cares? I¡¯m trying to save these overdressed city folks, and they¡¯re sneering at the village boy. ¡°Why? It doesn¡¯t matter, anyway. And my name¡¯s Locke.¡±

    She fixes me with her eyes. In any other situation, I would drown in them, but now her look is too stern for that. ¡°Of course it matters.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kid, Locke, listen. You can act like nothing matters when you¡¯re on a Ride, but I think you shouldn¡¯t. Lictor likes to say there are no consequences, and he¡¯s right, in a way.¡±

    I furrow my brow. ¡°What are you getting at?¡±

    ¡±Even if nothing you do on a Ride follows you back, you do. That¡¯s the whole point.¡± She sighs and nudges her head at a waiter listening to an order at another table. ¡°What would you think of me as a person, if I was nice to you, but rude to the waiter?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d probably think you¡¯re not actually a nice person.¡±

    ¡°As you should. So, how about if I was acting like nothing matters when I¡¯m on a Ride?¡±

    ¡°But...¡± I really wish I also had a coffee or something, so I wouldn¡¯t just need to face her stare and could take a moment to think about my answers while taking a drink. ¡°It¡¯s not the same!¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? How can you be sure that everyone you meet on a Ride is not a real person? A metaphorical waiter.¡±

    I stare at her.

    ¡°Do you understand what I¡¯m trying to say? Why I insist on cleaning up after ourselves? Treating everyone with kindness?¡±

    I swallow. I stop myself before I say ¡°but¡± another time, without knowing how to continue. ¡°I guess. It feels like it makes sense, but¡­¡±

    ¡°The stakes are so high, you want to say?¡±

    I nod, glancing to the side. Lille would never accept the ends justifying the means as a justification for something. On the other hand, she hasn¡¯t needed to think about stopping a major war, as far as I know.

    She smiles a rueful smile. ¡°Unfortunately, they really are.¡±

    We sit in silence for a moment. She glances behind my back and raises an eyebrow.

    A waiter is immediately behind me, reaching for the empty cup and saucer. ¡°Can I bring you anything else?¡±

    She shakes her head at him before I have a chance to say anything. The gesture spills hair over her shoulder like a waterfall of gold. As the waiter turns to go, she turns back to me. ¡°Now, enough of ethics. You¡¯re here to accomplish something.¡±

    I swallow, pulling my thoughts together. ¡°Our mission. How can I find out more about it? If not yours, whose area of responsibility is it?¡±

    She grimaces, and I know the answer.

    I remember Finna mentioning the fossils . ¡°Above him, I mean. The council?¡±

    She pouts her lips. ¡°Well, yes. Getting them to listen might not be easy, though.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you come with me? Help me!¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t. Even if I could, I have my responsibilities to handle. I¡¯ve spent as much time on you as I can afford to.¡±

    I¡¯m about to argue back, say time doesn¡¯t matter when on a Ride, but I remember this isn¡¯t a Ride for her. What is it for her, then? I banish the thought. I feel that thinking too much about it would break me. ¡°Anything you can do to help? Any guidance, even?¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± she says, standing up. She throws a coin on the table. My eyes go wide as I see it¡¯s a whole silver. ¡°You¡¯re crafty. That¡¯s the whole reason you were picked for the mission you¡¯re on. I¡¯ll introduce you to Liam. He can point you in the right direction. Once you¡¯re out of this Ride, tell me that Minerva says you can be trusted. She¡­ I will help you.¡±

    I stand up and bow to her. ¡°Thank you¡­ Minerva?¡±

    She chuckles. ¡°I¡¯ll walk you back to the Hall. You realize what kind of hurry you are in?¡± Her face is serious again.

    I nod. Lictor must already have noticed I¡¯m missing. It¡¯s going to be interesting to see how he reacts to that. I need to find out how long it takes them to notice I¡¯m gone. I¡¯m hoping I can get back to the room in the real world before he realizes I¡¯ve been gone at all. I¡¯ll have to think how to defuse the situation so it appears natural. My mind¡¯s whirring with plans and considerations as I follow her to the door of the cafe.

    When we step outside, the rain is just starting.

    </section>

 Chapter 15 - Enter Astaroth

    The clerk looks up at us and smiles. He¡¯s obviously such a nice guy. I almost feel bad for all the times Lictor marched past him on all the Rides like he was nothing.

    The Janitor smiles back at him. ¡°Liam, Locke is going to have a lot of questions and will need some help to navigate the grounds.¡±

    Her voice is smooth, like she has never shouted in her life. I shake my head to clear it and focus on Liam. He¡¯s having the same kind of reaction. He licks his lips and I can see his cheeks flushing.

    ¡°Yes, Lady Janitor, of course.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She beams at him, then spins to look at me again. ¡°I have to go. There¡¯s still a lot to be organized and I can¡¯t spare any more time. Good luck, kid.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I manage to say.

    She winks at me and fades out of sight. I didn¡¯t even notice her touching a rune on the chest of her overalls before she vanishes. I was concentrating too hard on keeping eye contact and not letting my gaze wander.

    ¡°It¡¯s always an experience to talk to the Janitor,¡± Liam says after a silent moment.

    I¡¯m thinking of what to do next, but the title stops me. ¡°The Janitor? Isn¡¯t Lictor a Janitor too?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes, obviously, but she¡¯s the City Janitor. Our Janitor. Sir Lictor handles the war effort.¡±

    ¡°Right, of course.¡± My mind¡¯s elsewhere already. It¡¯s hard to grasp it¡¯s been two days. These people all seem to know each other and be so used to how things work here. ¡°You¡¯ve been on a lot of Rides as well?¡±

    ¡°I started this morning, but have already worked enough to have money for the rest of the year,¡± he says with a wink.

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen anyone wink at the village. Maybe it¡¯s a city thing. Maybe they¡¯ve all picked it up from the Janitors. I try to focus. ¡°Liam, please, I need to ask someone about the mission I¡¯m being sent on. Not Lictor. Someone who planned the whole thing.¡±

    He looks at me and licks his lips.

    I get the message. ¡°Right, well, who then made the decision about the mission?¡±

    ¡°That would be the council, but you can¡¯t just waltz to meet them. They¡¯re the council!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have time to ask for permission. Please, point me in the right direction!¡±

    He takes a moment to consider, spinning the quill in his hand. I notice he has mostly been doodling on the papers. There¡¯s a stick figure with a cloak and a cowl and a badly drawn compass on its chest. ¡°As the Janitor did vouch for you,¡± he says slowly, ¡°the chambers are upstairs, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Thanks!¡± I shout. Footsteps approach from the corridor that leads to the rooms I left Lictor and the rest of the team in. I need to get away. Now. I haven¡¯t seen any stairs yet, but I don¡¯t have to make everything work this time.

    It¡¯s like hunting. The terrain is unfamiliar and I¡¯m not completely sure of my prey, but at least I can always try again if I get caught.

    <hr>

    I slink through another new door, climb another flight of stairs. The main hall with the artifact is huge, but it turns out the main building is even larger. Corridors and rows of doors circle around the central hall on multiple levels. I have been walking for maybe fifteen minutes and haven¡¯t yet seen anything twice. I peek into a study hall with some sort of lecture going on. Another one is empty except for a real janitor sweeping the floor between the chairs. One door leads to a barracks with a dozen guards maintaining their gear. One of the guards notices me open the door, but I¡¯m gone before he has time to react.

    I got out of the office before getting caught. Liam didn¡¯t mention anything about me being searched for, so I guess Lictor hasn¡¯t been through there yet. It had to be him coming. I could recognize the way he marches. The others must have caused quite a scene if he took this long to get out.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Soon, things might get much more difficult.

    I find another set of stairs and consider taking them. I¡¯ve gone up two floors already and I¡¯m guessing the third one must be the highest one. The air keeps getting warmer the higher I climb. Down where the artifact was, the air was cold and dry. Here, it¡¯s warm and carries smells of people. The lower floors must have been left to the Janitors alone.

    I hear hurried steps and muffled voices from around a corner. There¡¯s clanking of armor and thud of heavy boots, so I take the stairs up three at a time. As I peek down, a small group of guards is taking up positions around the stairs.

    ¡°What if we¡¯re late and he¡¯s already been through here?¡± one of them says.

    A woman with a tightly pulled ponytail on top of the head answers. ¡°Not your problem. You stand here and make sure he can¡¯t come down again.¡±

    She turns her head up toward where I¡¯m at and I pull back behind the bannister of the stairs. ¡°You three, up. Check everything is as it should be and wait for the moment.¡±

    Sounds of heavy boots echo up the stairs. I take in my surroundings before deciding where to go. The corridor reaches in both directions, but the other way looks more promising. That way, it opens up to some larger space with fancier lighting. The stairs felt like some sort of service entrance, so I turn and run as fast as I can without making too much noise. Running on an even floor is easy compared to the paths I¡¯m used to. The sound of my soft boots is lost in the clattering and stomping of the guards climbing the stairs.

    The corridor leads into a grand landing hall. Suddenly, the glare of the magical lamps is in my eyes, reflecting off gold and lacquered wood. There are more lights here than on the lower floors. The air is even warmer, almost humid and suffocating and full of smells. Sweat masked by cologne, leather, fur. Most areas in the building have been plain and functional, but this space is fancier than any I¡¯ve seen. A grand staircase, larger than all the ones I¡¯ve climbed, leads up from somewhere. Probably the entrance meant for important people.

    There are more people here, clerks bustling and merchants or nobles and wizards standing around. The wizards look almost comical to me. They are wearing long robes that remind me of bathrobes and tall conical hats that must be highly impractical anywhere else than in a fancy landing hall. One wizard gets his hat stuck on the door frame, so maybe they are impractical even here.

    Heavy steps echo from the corridor I came from. I look around the hall anxiously, trying to spot somewhere to hide without drawing attention to myself.

    ¡°Hey, kid, here,¡± a man says and gestures for me to come.

    There¡¯s a conspiratorial tone to his voice that sounds like I shouldn¡¯t trust him, but that I should play along at the moment. I step closer. His eyes are slanted and his ears sharply pointed. Somehow, they¡¯re nothing like Mandollel¡¯s soft elven features. His hair and beard are pitch black and his mustache stretches sideways and curves upwards with pointy ends. His clothes are midnight blue and blood red, all silk and brocade.

    ¡°You look like you¡¯re in trouble,¡± he purrs.

    I glance at the two guards who step into the hall from the corridor, their heads turning, looking for something.

    The man follows my look and raises an eyebrow. He chuckles, a low thump of laugh. I have no time to think, as he grabs me by the shoulder and twists me around, stepping between me and the guards.

    ¡°Relax, they¡¯re pretty thick,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m Astaroth, Astaroth Sulphurspew, by the way.¡±

    Despite the situation, I nearly choke as I try to keep myself from laughing out loud.

    ¡°I know, I know. Bit of a family burden, the name. Just roll with it. But who are you, young man?¡±

    ¡°Locke,¡± I tell him before I can stop myself. Though I¡¯m still on a Ride, so it doesn¡¯t matter. The man reminds me of a lynx, all stretch and yawn, hidden claws and sharp teeth implied. From somewhere, I smell the slightest hint of something like a spoiled egg.

    ¡°Are you an adventurer, mayhap? A hunter, an explorer?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes,¡± I reply, keeping my eyes on the guards. I move to stay behind him as the guards walk past. They don¡¯t look particularly clever to me either, to be honest. The guards move through the room, not really looking into groups of people or checking any potential hiding places. It reminds me of Lian searching for something she has lost. I could probably slip right past them if I wanted.

    The man follows my gaze and chuckles. ¡°Tenorsbridge guards have always been an afterthought, even before the latest developments.¡± He points down with his thumb, toward the lower levels.

    His words make me think of something and I get truly desperate for the first time in a while. Lictor doesn¡¯t need guards to find me. Once he notices I¡¯m gone, he can go on a Ride. Take as long as he wants looking. Come grab me the moment he feels ready. My time here is even more limited than I hoped.

    ¡°Hmm, what¡¯s the matter?¡± Astaroth says. ¡°You twitched.¡±

    I feel like Lictor is going to grab my shoulder at any moment from behind. I¡¯m spinning and squirming in place, my eyes darting around the room. ¡°It¡¯s nothing! I just thought of something. I¡¯m in a hurry!¡±

    ¡°That much is clear,¡± he says and chuckles. He seems to do that a lot. ¡°Where to?¡±

    There¡¯s no reason to hold back. ¡°I have to meet the council. Or at least someone in charge. It concerns the war.¡±

    ¡°The war? Didn¡¯t know there was one. Lucrative, wars.¡±

    The glint in his eyes sparks an inspiration. I know exactly what to say, and lower my voice. ¡°I don¡¯t think this one will. I¡¯ll trade you for information.¡±

    He leans closer to my face, grinning so the tips of his teeth show. ¡°Perfect.¡±

 Chapter 16 - Eyes Sad for Days

    There are three doors on the landing hall and Astaroth drags me to the nearest one. My boots sink into the thick carpet and the scent of beeswax from polished wood is everywhere. A table is decorated with gold and the chairs have velvet cushions with silken tassels on them. A stocky man is sitting at the table, reading a book, but Astaroth growls at him. Actually growls.

    The man lowers the book he¡¯s reading and smiles at him. ¡±Well, hello to you too, still sore about the Adventurer¡¯s Guild renovation?¡±

    Astaroth reaches out to shake the other man¡¯s hand with a smile. ¡±I¡¯m never sore. It was fairly won and fairly lost.¡±

    The other man winks at him. ¡±Well, neither of those things is true, but that makes us even.¡±

    Astaroth smiles with all of his teeth showing and crinkles the corners of his eyes at the man. He then plops himself onto a chair, lifts a leg and wraps it around his other leg. Waves a hand for me to sit down as well.

    The other man leaves, closing the door behind him. I¡¯m confused by the whole show. He was dressed in a similar manner to Astaroth. I¡¯m guessing they are merchants of some sort, but I don¡¯t have time to focus on that. I lock eyes with Astaroth. ¡±There¡¯s war with Kerthar. They¡¯re mounting an attack through the eastern border. The whole nation is in arms. Even mages.¡±

    He perks up at that, even if he tries to hide it. ¡±Mages? Why?¡±

    ¡±My turn. Tell me about the council and how to meet them.¡±

    ¡±Fine, fine.¡± He pouts, and takes a breath. ¡±The council meets at the top floor, one above even this. You need to get a lift to get up there, unless you know how to levitate yourself. I¡¯m guessing you don¡¯t.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t stop to let me confirm it, just continues.

    ¡±You don¡¯t meet the council. You talk to one or some of the members and they take your message to the rest, if they so choose. They are all old and eccentric and unpractical, so it¡¯s pretty hit or miss how things turn out in the end. Wizards, you know. We hear about decisions eventually, filtered through layers of scribes or hearsay. This town is truly stupid.¡± His mouth pulls into a grin. ¡±I love it.¡±

    ¡±Um, right,¡± I say.

    He leans forward and pushes his face toward me. ¡±Now! Why are the Kertharian mages involved? Even if the city itself would come under attack, you probably couldn¡¯t peel our local wizards away from their studies.¡±

    I consider haggling, but every second might count. My fingers press into the velvet-draped armrests of the chair. The moment Lictor gets to the pyramid, he¡¯ll know where I¡¯m at and what I¡¯m doing. I wonder why he even bothered with the guards. I shake my head and try to focus again on Astaroth. ¡±Someone said the Kertharians did something to themselves. Mind control, madness, something. All of them are attacking us. All of them. Mages, children, elders.¡±

    Astaroth¡¯s eyes go wide. He leans back and whistles a long descending note. ¡±That¡­ doesn¡¯t sound good, I¡¯ll give you that. They are a formidable people. It also doesn¡¯t sound possible, but I know when people are trying to lie to me. You at the very least believe what you¡¯re saying.¡±

    ¡±I¡¯ve seen it. I¡¯m going to do something about it.¡± I lock my eyes on his. They waver. Something makes me feel like it¡¯s rare for that to happen and I press on. ¡±Who should I talk to from the council about this? Who would decide what Tenorsbridge does about it?¡±

    He rubs his chin, then sharpens his dark beard into a point again. ¡±Start with representative Corum. She has the most sense out of all of them. She¡¯ll at least be able to help you if she so decides.¡±

    ¡±And do you know what would make her decide to help me?¡±

    He grins.

    ¡±An enraged Janitor might storm in and drag me away at any moment. Please, tell me!¡±

    Astaroth leans back and slicks back his hair with a hand. ¡±You don¡¯t have to worry about them here. These rooms are off-limits. No one wants them around negotiations,¡± he says and raises an eyebrow at me.

    I breathe out a sigh of relief.

    ¡°Now, one more question,¡± he says and takes a long pause. He breathes in and steeples his fingers. I notice his nails look almost like claws. ¡°Are you on a Ride now?¡±

    He watches me with unflinching eyes.

    He seems to have figured it out already. I¡¯m not certain how he will react, but he has earned the right to know. I don¡¯t know why I think so, but I know I do.

    We watch each other. After a moment, he pushes himself up from his chair and takes a couple of steps toward the corner of the room, turning his back on me.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Um, Mr. Astaroth?¡± I say, after a moment of silence.

    ¡°Hmm, yes?¡±

    ¡°Representative Corum, how can I get her to help me?¡±

    ¡°You can tell her that I will leave her in peace and forget what happened this spring. She¡¯ll know what I¡¯m talking about.¡±

    The words are spoken absent-mindedly. He has his hands in his pockets and his back is still toward me.

    ¡°Are¡­ are you ok?¡±

    Astaroth makes a soft noise and turns around. He grins at me, even if the grin tries to go down as well. ¡°I now know something no one else does.¡± His voice is wistful as he continues. ¡°I think you¡¯re right. This war won¡¯t be good for anyone. Maybe what I did here will help me, somewhere else.¡± He breaks off and wipes at his eye. ¡°Now get out of here, kid. I want to be alone.¡±

    <hr>

    As I start pushing the door, someone grabs the handle from the other side and yanks the door fully open. I stumble out for a step, pulled by my grip on the handle on my side of the door.

    A guard grabs me, his fingers digging into my shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re nicked!¡±

    Another guard stands beside him and one is behind the door, the one who yanked it open. The rest of the people are pressed against the walls of the room, leaving an empty area around the middle. The merchants and mages are trying to stay as far away as possible from the guards and the action, cowering behind the fancy chairs and tables on the edges of the room.

    I rise on my tiptoes as the guard pulls me from the shoulder toward him. ¡°Exactly as Sir Lictor told us. Hiding in the¡ªgaahh!¡±

    I kick the guard on the knee. I grimace at both the cracking sound his knee makes and the feel of the impact that reverbs back through my own leg.

    He screams and swings his arms as he falls. His hand slams on the other guard¡¯s helm. The clang echoes around the hall. I drop into a squat and pounce over the fallen guard¡¯s legs, heading for the big stairs.

    Everyone¡¯s shouting around the room. My eyes land on the stocky man who was in the room before us, standing near the stairs.

    ¡°Typical Astaroth,¡± he says, rolling his eyes.

    I¡¯m half-way across the hall when something slams into me from behind. I¡¯m lifted into the air, air forced out of my lungs. I spin in the air and see the fallen guard point some kind of stick at me from his prone position. The other guard is holding his head with both hands, the last one still holding on to the door handle.

    I keep flying for what feels like seconds, arcing over the railing of the stairs.

    The guard with the stick has his eyes wide. ¡°Whoops,¡± he says, as the floor of the landing hall rises to cover him from my sight.

    I have time to wonder at how tall the stairs must be. The ceiling above flees up and up. The stocky merchant peeks down over the gaudy railing, eyes wide and mouth open. I¡¯m falling back-first. Cold air rushes past my ears and my stomach feels real odd. I cross my arms and lock eyes with the merchant, hoping that I look stern, dignified, and disappointed.

    <hr>

    The glow of the pyramid fades. I¡¯m standing with my arm up to the pyramid as someone clears their throat behind me.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t advise it, kid,¡± a voice says. She sounds very familiar this time.

    My hand still hovers above the pyramid. I must have hit the stairs with the back of my head first, as I have no recollection of the impact at all. I¡¯m going to need more tries.

    ¡°Really. The¡ª¡±

    I touch the pyramid and there¡¯s a flash and a low hum.

    ¡°¡ªside effects¡ª¡±

    I touch the pyramid and there¡¯s a flash and a low hum.

    ¡°¡ªcan be¡ª¡°

    I touch the pyramid and there¡¯s a flash and a loud scream, like metal being ripped apart.

    ¡°¡ªpretty, hey, stop it!¡±

    She grabs my hand and yanks me away from the pyramid. I¡¯m thrown off balance and fall on my back. Pain wracks my whole body, much worse than what I¡¯d imagine from landing on my butt, even on the hard stone floor. My vision swims, there are three Janitors looking down on me, her form bleeding into different shapes and colors. I reach out to her and see three hands. When she speaks, light emanating from her mouth and blasts into me like I¡¯m being punched.

    ¡°This is pretty bad,¡± she says.

    I twitch with every word. The arm on my chest slaps me in the face. It swings wildly about, muscles squirming in my abdomen. Purple wisps of smoke waft up from my skin as it blackens from the touch of air.

    ¡°Kid.¡±

    I try to focus on her. She stretches into the past and the future. I can see her soon taking out a stick from her belt and pointing it at me. Her eyes are sad for days.

    ¡°Sorry, kid.¡±

    <hr>

    The glow of the pyramid fades.

    ¡°¡ªpretty, hey, stop it!¡±

    I gasp and retch, and she grabs my hand and yanks me away from the pyramid. I¡¯m thrown off balance and fall on my back. I land hard on my butt and right hand. A sharp pain shoots up my right arm, like I¡¯ve twisted a finger. I yelp, but it¡¯s normal pain this time.

    The Janitor looks down on me. Her eyes scan me all over and she grimaces. ¡°I tried to warn you, kid. That wasn¡¯t a good idea.¡±

    I keep breathing in and out even though my vision starts to dim. Unlike previous times, the memory of the last Ride feels like a sore wound. Like I¡¯ve been grated all over, especially my brain. I¡¯m panting. My palms hurt. There¡¯s something wrong with them.

    ¡°At least you didn¡¯t turn inside-out or something. Good that I managed to grab you away while the damage was still only this bad.¡±

    I lean my head into my palms and almost poke the extra thumbs into my eyes. Two thumbs stick out from the center of my palms. They look thin and feeble, but wiggle around as I try moving them. The right one hurts like it¡¯s sprained. That¡¯s what I twisted as I fell on my hand. I keep staring at the thumbs. My throat feels dry and there¡¯s a metallic taste in my mouth.

    She keeps talking. ¡°Couple of extra fingers is pretty standard. Those can probably be taken off, even if they end up being permanent. Your palms will be sore for a week or two, though.¡± She looks shaken, her eyes wide and hands pressed into fists, knuckles white.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I mumble, trembling. The purple smoke was the worst part. It bubbled through my skin.

    ¡°You went even further?¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°Dumb kid.¡± She crouches down and tousles my hair. ¡°Listen, this isn¡¯t a toy. The side effects can be extreme. And they get worse the more you¡¯ve had them.¡±

    Her hand in my hair feels real. Tears creep into my eyes and blink them away. ¡°Have had?¡± I ask and wipe my face on my sleeve.

    ¡°Yes, even ones you escape from. But why am I explaining this to you? I should take you¡ª¡°

    ¡°Minerva!¡± I say, interrupting her. ¡°You told me to tell you Minerva says something.¡±

    She freezes in place. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Minerva says you can trust me.¡±

    ¡°She does, does she?¡± She stands up and reaches a hand down to me.

    I wince as I move my right hand and the twisted thumb touches the trim of my shirt, so I grab her hand with my left and she pulls me up. With the extra thumb folded between our hands, it¡¯s probably as awkward for the both of us.

    ¡°Well then, kid. I trust you. How can I help?¡±

 Chapter 17 - The Old Wizard

    Explaining everything to her takes a moment. The artifact radiates warmth, now that I¡¯m standing next to it for a bit longer. In the cold and dry hall, it feels surprisingly nice.

    Next time, I can and should do this part faster. Every second counts, even if the Janitors have been banned from the upper floors. I twiddle my extra thumbs and try not to panic over them. She explained that they might go away once I¡¯m out of this Ride, but they also might not.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to handle that yourself. Janitors are not welcome,¡± she says as she puts her hands in her pockets. She smirks and raises an eyebrow at me. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to go up there either, as you¡¯re on a Ride. It¡¯s obviously a rule that can¡¯t be enforced, though.¡±

    Obviously. Lille once said some rules are made for peace of mind, and nothing else. She also made sure to point out her rules were never like that. My right hand throbs, pulling my attention away from the old memories. Funny how things that happened a couple of days ago feel like old memories.

    The memories from the last Ride replace Lille. Why did my skin smoke? I shake my head to clear it, even if I know I¡¯ll have nightmares about this one. ¡°How can I get up then?¡±

    ¡°There are badges that are given to visitors of the council. Liam has one. They show you¡¯re allowed to go up and help you get up there at the same time.¡±

    I start walking toward Liam¡¯s office without another word. She follows me slowly. Her brow is furrowed and her full lips part and close. I stop and wait. She¡¯s not a waiter. Even if I¡¯m in a hurry, I owe her this much.

    ¡°How deep are you, kid? How many times have you been here?¡± she finally says.

    I blush. ¡°Just once. I met you once and we talked, but I got killed upstairs before getting anywhere.¡±

    Her eyebrows lift up. ¡°Killed? In here? What the heck were you up to?¡± She shakes her head and her golden hair comes loose and obscures her face. ¡°I saw you touch the artifact multiple times. Even for me, it¡¯s hard to wrap my head around it and what it means. Now I know how other people feel.¡±

    She pushes away the hair and tucks it behind her ear. She¡¯s smiling, but I still feel like I should pat her on the shoulder or hug her or something.

    I shake it off. There¡¯s no more time to waste. No more Rides.

    Ever again.

    <hr>

    Liam¡¯s wringing his hands on the other side of the door when we get in.

    ¡°Liam, please give the kid a visitor¡¯s pass,¡± the Janitor says to him. She has composed herself, there¡¯s no sign of her being shaken anymore.

    ¡°A visitor¡¯s pass, lady Janitor?¡±

    She gives him a knowing look and pats him on the shoulder. ¡°I know, but let¡¯s just forget about this. No harm done. The kid has something important to do.¡±

    I keep my face still, letting her handle this.

    ¡°Of course, lady.¡± Liam bows to the Janitor and walks back toward his desk. He rummages around a drawer, pulling something out from under a pile of papers. ¡°You¡¯ll need to bring this back before you leave. Don¡¯t take it outside of the building. If it stays gone for more than a couple of hours, it¡¯ll cause an alarm and a hassle.¡± He offers the badge to me. It¡¯s a thick and coarse metal disk with a symbol of a bridge. ¡°You press the button here to release the ambrosia and activate the levitation spell.¡±

    I have no idea what the explanation means, but take note of the button Liam points to. The disc has a pin on the other side, which I push through my shirt to stick it on my chest. It reminds me of the amulet the Janitors have and I shudder.

    The Janitor is standing back, her arms crossed. She doesn¡¯t look vacant like Lictor, but I guess I have thrown her into new territory. Even if she has already seen this whole day happen, she hasn¡¯t experienced this part of it. This is my own personal cycle, spun out for me alone. Except, wait, if she has seen the whole day, shouldn¡¯t she know what I¡¯m going to do later? She wouldn¡¯t know what made me do it though or what happened in the Rides in between. Or how she herself acted on them?

    ¡°What are you looking at?¡± she asks, interrupting my thoughts.

    ¡°Uh, nothing. All of this is making my head hurt.¡±

    ¡°I know the feeling,¡± Liam says from the side.

    The Janitor chuckles. I still don¡¯t know her name for sure. I assumed it would be Minerva, but I¡¯m starting to think it¡¯s not. Maybe I¡¯ll ask next time. She keeps calling me kid again, but I guess she hasn¡¯t met me, this time.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    I bow at both of them and turn to leave. I have more time than I thought before Lictor notices I¡¯m missing. It¡¯s still not much. I glance at the thumbs in the center of my palms and shudder once again. I¡¯ll make sure this Ride is worth the cost.

    <hr>

    I run along the corridors as fast as I can without looking like I¡¯m escaping from someone. Still, when I turn a corner, a man in a robe stops me and asks me what I¡¯m doing. I don¡¯t want to risk causing a scene and throwing away a whole Ride, so I smile my best smile and explain that I¡¯m bringing a message from Janitor Lictor for the council. He balks at the mention of Lictor¡¯s name. The badge pinned on my chest seems to be enough confirmation, and he points me toward the right set of stairs.

    Upstairs, the crowd is similar but different. Astaroth is not there yet, but the stocky merchant is already going into the room where we found him the last time. Is he here just to read his book? I wonder where I should be going when a shadow moves in the middle of the hall.

    Someone is hovering in the air high above me, shaking hands with a robed wizard.

    There¡¯s a circular hole in the ceiling, much too high for any ladder. Two men are standing over the hole, on thin air, sharing a laugh over something. The ceiling above them is bright white, painting them as silhouettes. One of them is a wizard, judging from the slippers and the robe. He makes a gesture with his hand and the other man starts to descend.

    First, I see the soles of his boots. As he floats lower, his face changes from jovial to annoyed or disgusted, teeth clenched, the corner of his lip pulled up to his nose. His hair has the same striking shade of copper as Rworg, and it¡¯s pulled back into a tight ponytail. He lands softly and glares down at me.

    I¡¯m standing between him and the stairs, but before I can react or move, he pushes me, hard. I stumble backwards with a ¡°Hey!¡± into someone.

    ¡°Bloody peasants,¡± the man says without even looking at me.

    The man I bumped into pushes me gently to get me back in balance. His voice is kind and amused. ¡°New here? Be careful around the pad. Lots of important, and self-important, people coming and going.¡±

    The Ponytail Guy stomps down the stairs, not giving me another glance. His heels clack loudly and his cloak billows behind him. In addition to the Janitors, he¡¯s the only one I¡¯ve seen with a cloak. It doesn¡¯t have runes all over, but as a cloak, it looks even finer than theirs.

    The man still says something, but my focus is on the ceiling and the hole. There¡¯s no time to get to know new people or feel bad about ignoring him. He¡¯s a prop, like Lictor said. Not Astaroth or the stocky merchant or anyone I know. I do make a note to remember him, though. He seems like a nice guy.

    I push the button on the disc. It makes a rattling sound like an unoiled hinge. I shake the disc and try to see if it did anything as the room starts to tilt sideways. I¡¯m weightless, inching up ever so slightly. The circular opening looms above, a perfect dark circle cut into the ceiling. Before I drift too high to reach the ground, I kick off the floor.

    Too hard. I shoot up. Someone shouts a warning from below me, but I¡¯ve already realized I¡¯m not going to hit the circle. My stomach lurches and I make swimming motions with my arms to pull me toward the opening. I hit the ceiling, and the bump spins me around so I¡¯m upside down.

    ¡°Try to grab something!¡± The voice, now above me, shouts.

    ¡°Use your legs!¡± someone else shouts.

    I consider throwing up on them out of spite, but I clench my teeth together to fight down the nausea. I extend my legs and hook my heels inside the opening. I pull, too hard.

    I rocket into the upper chamber, straight into the hovering wizard. We spin together, a tangle of robes and limbs. He feels really thin and frail. I feel bad for him. We hit the wall with a soft thud and stay there. I¡¯m pinned upside down, the wizard pressed between me and the wall.

    ¡°Dear me,¡± he mutters.

    <hr>

    I crawl off from the wizard and we both inch down along the wall, me trying not to look at him while at it. When we¡¯re close to the floor, he makes a gesture and I lurch down. My legs wobble as I¡¯m dropped to stand on them again.

    My cheeks are burning and I bow down low, so I don¡¯t have to meet his gaze. ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry! It¡¯s my first time here.¡±

    The floor is white stone, polished like a mirror. The tip of his long beard hangs in my field of view. His blue slippers are velvety and smooth. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Some excitement does me good.¡± He pats me on my bent head a couple of times.

    I rise up slowly and get my first good look at the wizard. He¡¯s old as dirt. Older than Gran, even. Even bent down by old age, he¡¯s taller than me. His eyebrows are bushy and bright white and his face is a tightly packed map of wrinkles.

    Some extra ones appear around his eyes as he smiles at me. ¡°Well, young man, who are you looking for? I think it¡¯s not me. Though maybe I¡¯ve forgotten. I guess I¡¯m here for some reason?¡± He gazes around the room, looking lost.

    There are four corridors that branch toward each cardinal direction from the large round room. Everything has been built out of the same speckless marble. There are no visible lights, but it¡¯s so bright I need to squint. It¡¯s completely different from the landing hall below it, which was different from the rest of the building. The hole yawns in the floor. There¡¯s no railing or a cover. Why is this place so weird? ¡°Um, I¡¯m looking for Corum. Representative Corum! I mean.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my niece? I thought she said she was busy today. I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t take you to her.¡± His thick eyebrows droop over his eyes and he looks genuinely disappointed. ¡°It¡¯s still nice you came to visit. It¡¯s fun for me to meet her young friends.¡±

    The old wizard looks at me kindly. He doesn¡¯t seem to be in any kind of hurry. Who is he? Maybe he can help me instead. Or at least tell me something that I can use to get to meet his niece on the next try. I smile back at him. ¡°Maybe you can help me instead? It¡¯s a shame if we missed each other with her, but I would like to talk about an important matter with someone on the council.¡±

    His mouth forms an o. ¡°An important matter! Well, of course, young man, of course.¡±

    The old wizard totters off toward one of the corridors, but turns around as he¡¯s about to reach the exit. ¡°Oh, almost forgot,¡± he says and makes a quick gesture with his hand. The edges of the circle reach inward and snap shut the hole in the floor. ¡°Can¡¯t have anyone falling in, you know.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re more worried about someone falling down than someone coming up?¡±

    He smiles at me. There¡¯s a grey film over his eyes, but his teeth are remarkably white. ¡°Why would we be worried about anyone coming up? It¡¯s nice when young people come to visit.¡±

 Chapter 18 - Archwizard

    The dark wood plaque on the door says Archwizard in golden letters. The Old Wizard lowers himself carefully to sit on a chair behind a massive desk. He waves at another chair, showing me to sit as well. One magical light shines behind me in the corner of the room, set next to a reading chair. A huge taxidermy eagle hangs above the desk. The bird is big enough it probably could have picked up a whole cow and flown away with it. I¡¯ve never heard of an eagle that large. I wonder if it¡¯s some elaborate fake put together to impress the guests. Above everything, a large window opens to the sky, the last rays of the sun peeking through the cloud cover. This office has to be on the very top of the building. I can¡¯t see any roofs or buildings, only the sky.

    ¡°What did you say you wanted to talk about? Did we have a meeting?¡±

    How old is he, really? His gaze is confused, almost imploring for me to help him out. The light in the room is dim, and he squints his eyes at me, leaning forward. I feel bad taking up the topic with him, he seems so fragile. I lean to see him behind a huge conical hat that sits between us on the desk. ¡°Um, it¡¯s about the war with Kerthar and the plan to end it.¡±

    His eyebrows droop over his eyes. ¡°Oh, that. You did say it was important. Sad too, sad.¡± He smacks his mouth a couple of times. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to need my hat. Where did I put it?¡±

    His gaze wanders around the room, everywhere but the hat before him. I follow his gaze out of sympathy, not knowing if I should point out the hat to him. It¡¯s similar to what the other wizards wear around here, but even taller, preposterously so. It¡¯s dark blue velvet and adorned with at least as many runes as the Janitor¡¯s uniforms have. He turns back to the desk, brows furrowed in confusion. He makes a small ¡°ah¡± sound and picks up the hat, lowering it carefully down on his head. As it touches his head, it makes a sizzling sound, and his eyes roll around wildly for a second.

    His back straightens, and he rolls back his shoulders. ¡°Who are you? What do you know of the war?¡± Now, his voice thrums strong and deep.

    Surprised, I press against the backrest of my chair. He snaps his hand up, gesturing with his fingers so quickly that I can¡¯t follow the movement at all. Pinpricks of brilliant white light hover before his fingertips, furled in a claw pointed at my face.

    I push back even harder. I can feel the heat radiate from his fingers and the light makes my eyes ache. His hat hums and the smell of ozone rolls over me. The kind old man is gone, replaced by something else. His face squirms, expressions tangling together, but his eyes stay completely still, boring into me. ¡°I¡¯m Locke! Part of the mission to Kerthar. I was brought in by the Janitor!¡±

    ¡°Which Janitor? Why are you here? What is your business with representative Corum?¡± The questions continue the moment I finish talking, no pause between them. The hand still hovers before my face, the light painfully bright.

    ¡°Both! Lictor brought me but the other Janitor sent me here. I need to talk about the mission with someone on the council¡ª¡°

    ¡°Why Corum? What about the mission?¡±

    My heart thrums in my chest. I have never felt as outclassed. Lille, Ral, Lictor, they don¡¯t come even close. ¡°Someone said I should talk to her¡ª¡°

    ¡°Who?¡± The word is a bark, rising deep from his chest.

    I¡¯m not sure if telling him about Astaroth would be in my best interest. I¡¯m not sure how¡ª

    A beam of light shoots from one of his fingers. It flashes, hitting the chair above my left shoulder. A solid afterimage hangs in my eyes, a black line cut across my vision. Around it, I see a dark circular hole burned right through the backrest. After a moment, a small wisp of smoke starts rising up from it. The smell would be pleasant around a campfire, but not here.

    ¡°Hurry.¡±

    ¡°Astaroth! He told me to talk to her.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°He said she has the most sense on the council.¡±

    A smirk flashes on his face. It passes so quickly I¡¯m not sure I really saw it. He nudges his hat with a quick flick of his hand and a blue spark shoots out from below its brim. It hits his beard and travels down it, drawing a lightning bolt down its path. ¡°Next topic. How many Rides have you been on? Have you been here before?¡±

    I close my fists around the extra thumbs on my palms. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t! Lictor took me on a bunch, but we just trained for the mission.¡±

    He watches. He¡¯s otherwise still, but his eyes flicker around like they¡¯ve been sped up somehow. He suddenly snaps his hand into a fist around the lights, extinguishing them. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here. Something is wrong, but there¡¯s no time to find out what. The mission must proceed, and you need to go.¡±

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    He¡¯s talking so fast it¡¯s hard to keep up. ¡°Please! Lictor is planning to kill all the Kertharians. I want to¡ª¡°

    His gaze snaps back at me. ¡°Ah.¡±

    I realize my mistake too late. His fingers are a blur, as he draws the most intricate web of runes into the air that I¡¯ve seen so far. I grab at a knife in my belt, but he flicks his hand toward me.

    My vision is smeared. Everything¡¯s hazy, like there¡¯s a smoky glass between me and the world. My hand is still traveling toward the knife.

    The Old Wizard stands up and zips behind me. I¡¯m turning my eyes to follow him, but he¡¯s back, sitting in front of me again. It¡¯s happening much too fast to take in properly.

    The Ponytail Guy I saw earlier appears, and he and the Old Wizard talk about something. I can hear no sound but see their hands flicking and swinging around, pointing at me multiple times.

    It gets darker and then lighter again, the light from the window changing with the rising and setting of the sun.

    The Old Wizard is asleep in his chair. My hand reaches the knife.

    The clouds are gone and the light of the sun is painfully bright. It hammers into me.

    There¡¯s a stern-looking woman talking to the wizard. I don¡¯t see much as my eyes are practically blind from the light, but she looks enraged and keeps waving her hand at me.

    My face blisters. Colors are washed out by the blazing light, from what I kind see behind the smoke. I¡¯m being burned alive.

    <hr>

    The glow of the pyramid fades.

    ¡°¡ªcan be pretty nasty. Hey, what did I just tell you!¡±

    I step away from the pyramid before she can grab me again. I¡¯m not sure if she would, but I don¡¯t want to fall anymore. My mind is clear, my body knows the way it¡¯s standing and how to take the step back. Sun-drying was the second worst way to die so far, but it feels like an anecdote. I¡¯m mainly relieved that I got yanked back to the artifact according to how time passed outside of whatever the Old Wizard did to me. Who has that kind of power?

    ¡°Couple of extra fingers is quite standard,¡± the Janitor says. ¡°Maybe they are gone by the time you¡¯re finished with this Ride.¡±

    The two thumbs are still sticking out from my palms. I have a sinking feeling that I have to relearn everything about shooting a bow. ¡°I already had them the last time.¡±

    The Janitor pats me on the left shoulder a couple of times. ¡°Too bad. You might be stuck with them then. You have been going even deeper?¡±

    I¡¯m fed up with this discussion already. How does Lictor stand it, going through each discussion hundreds of times? No wonder he keeps looking at clouds. ¡°Minerva told me that you can trust me. I need to get a visitor¡¯s pass for the upper floors.¡±

    The Janitor¡¯s hand stops mid-pat. ¡°So, you have been doing this for a while?¡± she says slowly.

    I¡¯m already walking toward the door to the clerk¡¯s office. I hope I¡¯m not leaning too hard on her codeword, but I really want to see if I can catch something new this time around. My mind churns. Plans on what to do differently, confusion about the Old Wizard and why he did what he did. I stop before reaching the door and turn to her. ¡°Can you tell me something about the archwizard? Very old, has a really tall hat.¡±

    She stops and cocks her head. ¡°Marek, he¡¯s the leader of the council. A kind old man, most would say.¡±

    My eye twitches.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve actually met him. Do try to stay on his good side. Even us Janitors can¡¯t really keep up with him.¡±

    ¡°Why would you need to?¡± I was supposed to rush through this part, but I can¡¯t help getting interested in the internal workings of the city. Why would the Janitors need to ¡®keep up¡¯ with the leader of the council?

    She puts her hands in the pockets of her overalls and shrugs. ¡°We try a lot of things.¡±

    I wait. She doesn¡¯t continue. ¡°Fine. Do you know of a guy with a red ponytail and a cloak who might visit Marek? Probably some kind of noble, definitely all kinds of annoying?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I try to stay out of politics.¡±

    Maybe she does. It¡¯s time to move on. I have an idea about who to ask next.

    <hr>

    I make it to the landing hall a bit earlier than before and notice the stocky book-reading man hovering down toward the ground. The air is exactly as I remember from the last time, warm and heavy. I look up and spot the woman through the hole in the ceiling. She¡¯s the one who talked with the Old Wizard when I was frozen! My plan was to ask the stocky merchant about the Ponytail Guy, but that idea gets scrapped as I notice her.

    ¡°Representative Corum!¡± I shout up.

    She¡¯s already turned away, but turns to look back and down at me. Even from this far away, it¡¯s clear she doesn¡¯t appreciate being shouted at. Still, she responds to the name. I was right.

    I ignore the people looking at me and whispering with each other and push the button on the disc. This time I know what will happen and prepare accordingly. I push with my legs softly, taking careful aim at the hole above.

    The belly of the stocky man nearly brushes on my nose as he floats down past me.

    ¡°Enjoy your book,¡± I say and wink when our faces meet. It¡¯s silly, but why shouldn¡¯t I. All this is dour enough already. If I want to become a proper adventurer, I better start practicing my quips.

    I don¡¯t see his reaction as I turn my gaze back up to the woman. Corum is looking down with her mouth drawn into a thin line. There¡¯s some resemblance to the Old Wizard, now that I get a good look at her. More in the look in her eyes than anything physical. Her hair is cut short and there¡¯s a hint of grey already in it. On her, the color brings to mind steel instead of frailty.

    I really hope she¡¯s not in on the conspiracy, or whatever it is going on here. I thought back and did the math, and this is my last Ride before I¡¯m back in the real world. I have to get it right this time. I press my fists closed, hiding the extra thumbs as well as I can.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± she asks me, as I hover past her.

    I don¡¯t know how to stop, but I manage to tilt to look down at her. ¡°My name is Locke. I¡¯m part of the mission to Kerthar. I have to talk to you!¡±

    She watches me float higher. Below, everyone has gathered to look up at us through the hole. She waves her hand.

    Even this high up, I can see the disappointment on their faces when the hole snaps shut.

 Chapter 19 - The Real Plan

    I¡¯m standing on the polished marble floor again. Corum, it has to be her, is glaring down at me. She¡¯s taller than I am, just like her uncle. Unlike the Old Wizard, she stands straight, her posture as rigid as the look on her face.

    ¡°Did the War Janitor send you? Why are you here?¡±

    ¡°Lictor? No. Yes! I need to talk to you about the mission!¡± I¡¯m panicking. I need to get us out of here before the Old Wizard and the Ponytail Guy arrive.

    Corum doesn¡¯t look convinced or answer, instead looking around the room, the closed circle on the ground, then at one of the corridors. It looks like she¡¯s considering if she¡¯ll throw me down before leaving herself.

    She takes a breath in, I interrupt her. ¡°Please, there¡¯s a conspiracy! Someone plans to kill all the Kertharians!¡± I hiss the last words, as I expect the men to be here any minute now.

    Her eyebrows raise and she leans her face next to mine. ¡°What! What proof do you have? Who are you?¡±

    Her perfume fills my nose, a mix of flowers I can¡¯t name. Not now. ¡°We have to go! They¡¯re coming! Your uncle is part of it.¡±

    She leans away, baring her teeth. She looks angry enough to hit someone, but I don¡¯t know who. I hear steps and she does too. Her head jerks up, and she organizes her face from a grimace to a smile.

    The shuffling steps make it clear it¡¯s the Old Wizard. The other steps are the clicking of hard heels on stone. The two men appear from the corridor that leads to the archwizard¡¯s office where I was earlier. The old man has a confused look on his face. The noble¡¯s mouth is smiling, but his eyes are not.

    ¡°Oh, niece, I thought you were busy today,¡± the Old Wizard says. ¡°How nice, how nice.¡±

    She greets him with the slightest nudge of her head. ¡°Uncle.¡±

    ¡°Representative Corum,¡± the Ponytail Guy says and bows.

    No one is paying any attention to me. I hope that continues and stay as still as possible. I press my hands next to my thighs, fingers over the extra thumbs.

    ¡°Corum, let me introduce you to Mr. Lombarte.¡±

    ¡°Sir Lombarte. It¡¯s a pleasure, but I was about to leav¡ª¡°

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry! There¡¯s no rush. He came to talk about the¡­ what was it?¡±

    Lombarte takes a breath and holds it, before letting it go from his nose. ¡°The plans what we are going to do after the war. I trust everything will go smoothly.¡± He gives the old man a meaningful look that is impossible to miss.

    Corum¡¯s eyes flicker to meet mine.

    The Old Wizard follows her look and turns to smile at Corum. ¡°Oh, you have a visitor? Who¡¯s your young friend?¡±

    ¡°Merely a courier. I need to get something delivered.¡± Her tone is level. Not casual, but I¡¯m not sure if it ever is.

    ¡°Oh, right, right.¡±

    There¡¯s a long pause after that. No one says anything. The Old Wizard leans a bit to the side.

    Lombarte starts tapping his foot on the floor but stops as Corum glares at him. He gestures at the closed circle on the floor. ¡°Ahem. As I was saying, I really must¡ª¡°

    Corum interrupts him. ¡°Tell me a bit about those plans you were discussing.¡±

    I swallow, a sudden clump in my throat. Her voice is sharp in a way that reminds me of Lille, demanding an answer. A twinge of homesickness makes me grimace. I haven¡¯t thought of the village for what feels like an eternity. I wonder what Bann, Lian, and Hendrik are doing.

    Actually, they are still probably sitting around the fire where I left them. Having a laugh or making guesses what I¡¯m going to do on my trip.

    ¡°Those plans are not really anything you need to concern yourself with, representative,¡± he replies. The smile he gives Corum replaces my homesickness with an urge to punch him.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be the judge of that, sir,¡± Corum says.

    The smile freezes on the guy¡¯s face. ¡°Well, there will be much to build, rebuild, that is. People will want for homes and reparations.¡±

    ¡°Who will be paying those reparations? The Kertharians won¡¯t be able to.¡±

    A smirk flashes on his face and he glances at the Old Wizard. ¡°That is very true.¡±

    People really aren¡¯t very subtle here. It¡¯s hard to judge how all this would feel if I didn¡¯t know from earlier Rides that something is going on. Still, he must feel we¡¯re completely irrelevant to be acting like that.

    The Old Wizard smiles on, oblivious to the look and the whole discussion, it seems. I search his face for any sign of deceit or the scathing intellect of earlier, but his eyes are vacant. There¡¯s no one home.

    Corum takes a step toward the man. She¡¯s as tall as him and the man withers before her gaze. ¡°I don¡¯t appreciate being kept in the dark, Mr. Lombarte.¡± She spins away hard and the long cowl of her robe slaps the man in the face. ¡±Come, boy,¡± she says and starts walking.

    Everyone¡¯s always stomping off and assuming I¡¯ll follow. I do, though. So far, so good. The Old Wizard has grabbed Lombarte¡¯s sleeve and is talking about something, face still oblivious. The guy himself is glaring after us, paying no attention to the old man hanging on his sleeve. Someone made an enemy today, but I have a feeling the woman marching ahead of me is not worried about it.

    <hr>

    Her office is nearly as large as the old guy¡¯s. Her plaque says Wizard.

    The moment the door clicks closed, she turns to me. ¡±How do you know all this?¡± The tone of the question reminds me of Marek, as do her eyes. They zig-zag around too fast to follow, inspecting me from head to toe in an instant.

    The resemblance makes me answer without thinking. ¡±I have been on Rides. Lictor took me on a bunch. I¡¯ve met your uncle. He put on his hat.¡±

    ¡±And what happened next?¡±

    ¡±When I mentioned the plan to kill everyone, he knew exactly what I was talking about.¡±

    ¡±And then?¡± The questions follow each other without a pause. She¡¯s standing completely still, one hand on her elbow, another on her chin.

    ¡±He froze me. I was stuck in place, slowed down, but I could still sort of see what happened. He met with that Lombarte guy again, and you came to shout at him later.¡±

    ¡±Still researching the effects of the Ride. He probably figured out you were on a one. It¡¯s worrying that he met with Kattam first.¡± She finally breaks her pose and seems to relax.

    ¡±Who?¡±

    ¡±Kattam Lombarte,¡± she says, and points behind her with her thumb. ¡±The man¡¯s a menace.¡± Maybe she didn¡¯t relax, just turned her focus inward. Her face is scrunched up in thought. Her nostrils flare and she rubs her face, starting to pace around the room.

    I stay silent to see if she continues.

    ¡±Kattam is a key figure in the war faction. If Marek really is working with him behind the council¡¯s back¡­¡± She trails off as her pacing brings me into her view again. ¡±Why are you still here?¡±

    ¡±I¡¯m supposed to leave in a couple of hours on the mission! I just want to know I¡¯m doing the right thing. And the thing you think I¡¯m supposed to do. What is the mission, exactly?¡±

    ¡±You don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡±I¡¯d like to hear it from you.¡±

    She tilts her head up, looking out from the big window on the ceiling. It¡¯s similar to the old man¡¯s office, but there¡¯s not an eagle blocking it. She¡¯s considering it, but I don¡¯t know which way she¡¯ll go.

    Someone knocks on her door.

    I panic. ¡±Astaroth says he will leave you in peace and forget what happened last spring!¡±

    Blood rushes to her cheeks. She touches her cheek and her mouth presses into a thin white line. ¡±The cheeky tosser.¡± She draws in a breath and chuckles.

    The knock comes again. ¡±Lady Corum?¡± a soft voice asks from behind the door.

    ¡±Fine. FINE.¡± She blows a short raspberry with her mouth, making a ¡±blrrr¡± sound that surprises me. Not so prim all the time, after all. ¡±Meeting¡¯s cancelled! Go away for now,¡± she shouts at the door.

    The voice behind the door starts to say something. I don¡¯t make out what, as Corum is already walking toward her desk and I focus on her again.

    She sits and opens a drawer, peering into it. ¡±So, the mission. I¡¯ll explain it like I would to someone who doesn¡¯t know anything about it.¡± She¡¯s still bending over toward the drawer, but takes a moment to look up at me. ¡±Except normally I would start by saying this is going to sound pretty far-fetched, but with you, I think that won¡¯t be necessary.¡±

    I chuckle and look around for a chair. There¡¯s none in her office, so I stay standing. There are still some hesitant knocks on the door, but we both ignore them. She fiddles with the drawer for a while with both hands and pulls out a leather folder. It must have been in a secret locker. Maybe I should remember that.

    Before I can think more about it, she opens the folder and starts reciting, paper in hand. ¡±A team will be teleported near the Kerthar border before the Etherthorn Weave is put in place. They will sneak over to a pre-designated location to transport a magical device of great power along a set path of coordinates.¡±

    The set path of coordinates is news to me, but it helps to explain why Lictor flew me over the area and showed me all the camps. Plans inside plans. Telling anything only once it¡¯s the right time to do so.

    ¡±Once there, the team will cross back over the Kerthar border to avoid the effect of the device. It will activate itself, displacing all humans and equally intelligent creatures on Kerthar¡¯s side from time for thirty years.¡± She puts the paper back into the folder while speaking. ¡°From their viewpoint, they will be transported into the future.¡±

    ¡°What!?¡±

    She looks at me flatly and taps the folder. ¡±What, what?¡±

    ¡±Into the future! Thirty years!¡± My fingers are stretched out, both hands before my face, waving back and forth and spreading them wide to show how long a time thirty years is. Once I notice I¡¯m doing it, I lower my hands and blush. ¡±I mean, I know things are a bit weird here, but thirty years!¡±

    ¡±That is not the part you should be astonished by. The War Janitor has gone rogue. The mere thought warrants panic.¡±

 Chapter 20 - The Time Gem

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    Corum stands up to her full height. She rolls her shoulders back and takes a deep breath. ¡±We have to confront my uncle.¡±

    ¡±Wait, wait!¡±

    Her gaze snaps to me. There¡¯s no surprise, only a momentary change of focus. I think how to word what I¡¯m going to say, but her attention is already slipping, her focus returning to planning.

    I hurry before I lose her again. ¡±I need to know what to do in case something happens.¡±

    ¡±What do you mean?¡±

    Without waiting for my answer, she bends to rummage her drawers. She pulls out medallions, rings, rolled-up parchments, and places them on the table. She picks up a wooden stick, like the one the guard used to shoot me in the back. She rolls it around and considers it, but then places it to the side.

    I lean in to take a closer look. It must be a magic wand. I¡¯ve never seen one properly before this. The wand is a thick baton of wood with a single button on the other end and ¡±Fireball¡± written on the side.

    I wrench my eyes off the wand and focus on Corum. ¡±I haven¡¯t been told anything about the mission yet. What if he freezes you?¡±

    Corum gazes up at me, still bent over a drawer. She takes a moment to think about it, but eventually shakes her head. ¡±That won¡¯t happen. But fine, the details of the device are in the mission folder. You can look at them while I prepare. I hope you can read.¡± She taps the folder on the table with a finger and pushes it to my side of the table.

    I roll my eyes at her, but she has already turned back to her trinkets. I turn the folder around and open it. It¡¯s surprisingly hard with the extra thumbs. She hasn¡¯t said anything about them, even though she must have seen them already. She keeps pulling out more stuff and organizing it in front of her. She¡¯s acting confident, but the heap of gear on the table tells me that she¡¯s not taking this lightly.

    I flip through the pages in the folder and raise my eyebrows as I read that the plan really is to ¡°temporally displace all sapient humanoid entities within the Kerthar region by a duration of thirty years¡±.???????????????? I want to read more, but force myself to flip forward, searching for mentions of the device. Some pages later, there¡¯s a large folded paper that opens up to show a drawing of a spherical object.

    The thing depicted is dizzyingly complex. There are layers upon layers of runes, threads and lines connecting them to each other and multiple small levers and buttons. Just operating this thing is going to be complicated. I hope I won¡¯t be the one to do it. The thought is pushed aside by rising desperation about any changes Lictor might have done. I groan out loud, panic settling in.

    Corum looks up. She has put on two pairs of earrings and there are three necklaces resting on her chest. She reaches out a hand and taps a finger in the middle of the drawing. ¡±This is the most important aspect of the device. Everything else is there to align and focus the effect.¡±

    I look at the thing she¡¯s tapping. It¡¯s a small gem with eight sides, like two pyramids stuck together from their bases. The shape of the gem is simple enough, but the inside has been drawn with way too many facets and reflections, like mirrors facing each other, stretching into infinity.

    Even as a drawing it looks confusing. I read what has been written next to it. ¡±Time Gem?¡±

    ¡±That¡¯s what we call it. It¡¯s in the same league as the Mountain Ride. Completely beyond what we can create ourselves.¡±

    ¡°Beyond what you can create? So where did these things come from?¡±

    She doesn¡¯t hear or chooses to ignore the question. Instead, she keeps tapping the drawing, brow furrowed. ¡°If you would want to change what the device does, you could do it through the central element. In principle, one could replace the Gem with something else and change what the device does. It would be impossible to know what the effect would be, though, and testing it would be too dange¡­¡± Her voice trails off, and she presses her lips together tightly.

    I raise an eyebrow at her.

    She grabs an iron tiara from the desk and places it on her head. ¡°Right. Let¡¯s go talk to my uncle.¡±

    <hr>

    My heart pounds in my chest as she knocks on the door. There are few things that are scary on a Ride, but the old man was one of them. He didn¡¯t even hesitate before blasting a hole through the chair right next to my shoulder. I would have been next. The way his eyes changed was weird. Does he keep his personality in the hat or what was that about?

    ¡°Come, come,¡± a raspy voice calls from inside.

    I take a breath and hold it, as Corum pushes the door open and marches in. In addition to all the trinkets and jewelry she piled on herself before leaving, she¡¯s also wearing a conical hat, covering the iron tiara. A sharp smell of ozone follows her, mixing with the scent of her perfume.

    ¡°Oh, niece, how nice. And the young courier?¡± the Old Wizard asks. He¡¯s leaning on a cane, his other hand reaching out to touch the spines of books on a shelf. The office smells of paper but not of dust. Everything except him looks new and polished.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Marek. I¡¯m here to talk to you about the mission to Kerthar.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that business, oh my.¡± He totters toward the desk. ¡°I guess you want to talk properly?¡±

    ¡°Yes, uncle.¡±

    He reaches toward his hat and my palms grow sweaty. They¡¯ve never done that before. Maybe it¡¯s a side-effect of the thumbs, or maybe I¡¯m just scared enough. I almost managed to forget them, but as I adjust my belt to make sure my knife is still there, I nudge the extra thumb on the belt and wince.

    The Old Wizard lowers the hat slowly on his head, and I take care to watch the change happen this time. The hat sizzles. His face tightens from the slack and confused expression it had. The stars and the symbols on his hat glow softly brighter.

    His eyes flicker over the entire room, Corum, and the trinkets she¡¯s wearing. ¡°Ah, the not-courier. What has he told you?¡± His voice has changed again. It¡¯s a strong, vibrant bass. He could be a singer.

    ¡°Marek, what are you planning with that weasel?¡±

    ¡°You place us in danger with your softness. They deserve their fate. It¡¯s a mercy-killing.¡±

    ¡°This is treason, Marek. Worse, genocide.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m taking this on myself. The rest of the council can stay children for a bit longer.¡±

    ¡°This option will be open later if we truly can¡¯t find a solution.¡±

    There¡¯s a pause, and Marek raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side appreciatively. The ridiculously tall hat makes the gesture look larger than it is.

    I use the break to try to understand what the heck is going on. It feels like they are skipping whole stretches of conversation, assuming or guessing what the other already knows, and answering questions that would be asked later. The weasel has to be Kattam. Marek is talking about killing all the Kertharians, against the decision and behind the backs of the council, it seems.

    I clench my jaw. I¡¯ll just have to try to keep up, and preferably not draw any attention to myself. I don¡¯t want to get frozen and grilled again.

    Marek returns his head upright, the tip of the hat swishing through the air. ¡°You¡¯re growing up.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re growing old. We can handle it, uncle.¡±

    He sighs, more like the old man I met for the first time than the person who he is at the moment. ¡°You can¡¯t do anything about it anymore.¡±

    ¡°We can¡­¡± For the first time during the discussion, she hesitates. ¡°There has to be a way to best him.¡±

    Marek shakes his head.

    Corum tugs at her ear, making the earrings tinkle against each other. ¡°There have to be more checks and balances. They are too powerful.¡±

    I try to piece the discussion together furiously. ¡°You¡¯re talking about Lictor,¡± I blurt.

    They both swing their gazes at me. Their eyes are more alike than what I¡¯d like.

    ¡°Lictor has already put the new plan in motion. And you two think there¡¯s nothing that can be done about that.¡±

    Marek rolls his eyes. It looks weird when he does it. A human gesture, but too fast to be normal.

    Corum keeps her eyes on the Old Wizard, but talks to me. ¡°There¡¯s nothing anyone can do against a Janitor. If he¡¯s decided this is the way it will go, this is the way it will go. He¡¯s already heard your arguments and decided against them. You can¡¯t talk him over and you can¡¯t outmaneuver him.¡±

    ¡°But what if I can?¡±

    Corum pulls her mouth into a thin line. Marek huffs and waves a hand in my general direction. ¡°Ignore the dunce. He should be getting briefed right now, anyway. He¡¯s the hunter, obviously?¡±

    Corum gestures for Marek to wait and focuses her eyes on me. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Lictor has been taking me on the same Rides. New Rides. He¡ª¡°

    Marek slaps his thigh. ¡°He doesn¡¯t know what the boy is going to do now that he¡¯s out!¡± There¡¯s glee in his eyes, even though it¡¯s his plan I¡¯m trying to mess with. ¡°The boy is a random actor.¡±

    Corum wipes a hand over her eyes. ¡°We have to assume he has seen some similar scenario play out. The War Janitor doesn¡¯t leave much to chance.¡±

    Marek¡¯s eyes narrow as they snap back to Corum. ¡°We¡¯ll see. It¡¯ll be interesting.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t over, uncle.¡±

    ¡°It never is.¡±

    They¡¯re back in their own little world. I¡¯ve been left behind. Marek sits down, and to my surprise, lifts the hat from his head. His cheeks and brows droop, as if the weight being removed from his head was added on his face instead.

    The Old Wizard places the hat on the table and sighs a deep and exhausted sigh. His eyes blink and nearly close. A smile plays on his lips. ¡°I hope we had a nice talk,¡± he says and blinks once more.

    ¡°We had, uncle. Please rest now.¡±

    Her voice is soft and gentle. It almost chokes me up.

    <hr>

    The Old Wizard is asleep before we get out of the room. Corum leans her back against the wall of the corridor and breathes out. She grasps her hat and tiara both with one hand and takes them off, wiping her forehead with the sleeve of her other arm. ¡°We have it so easy nowadays,¡± she mutters. ¡°When I was young, it was always like this.¡±

    My palms are still sweaty and I wipe them on my trousers, careful not to snag the thumbs on anything. I don¡¯t want to seem dumb, but I want even less to piece it all together myself. ¡°What was all that? What will be interesting? What isn¡¯t over?¡±

    She chuckles and straightens up. Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes glinting. ¡°Walk with me. I want to get this stuff off from myself.¡±

    ¡°Why did you put them on? What did you think he could do?¡±

    ¡°Do?¡± She chuckles again, taking off a handful of earrings. ¡°Nothing, he¡¯s my uncle and a kind old man. But he¡¯s also the Marek Nihilm.¡±

    She says it in a way that must mean something. I don¡¯t know what. ¡°Does¡­ the Nihilm live in the hat?¡±

    She stops and takes off the earrings from her other ear. ¡°What? No! It¡¯s a surname. He¡¯s old. The hat reverses some of the effects of aging.¡±

    ¡°Some of the aging? Wait, he¡¯s not sped up?¡±

    She gives me a flat look. ¡°He¡¯s the Archwizard. He doesn¡¯t need to be sped up.¡±

    We walk in silence. She keeps stuffing more things into her pockets that are already jingling. I have to ask. ¡°What were all those for, then?¡±

    She pulls the final necklace over her head and puts it into her pocket. ¡°Well, it¡¯s common courtesy to come prepared. It¡¯s a wizard thing. And some of these do give bit of a boost. Might have even helped, if he would have tried something.¡±

    So she wasn¡¯t completely certain after all. ¡°How about the rest of what you talked about? Something being interesting or this not being over?¡±

    ¡°He gave us his permission to try to thwart his plans. He won¡¯t interfere, but won¡¯t help us either. Maybe he even feels bad about condemning a whole nation to death. That¡¯s a huge win. More than I¡¯ve got out of him in years.¡± She beams, her eyes sparkling.

    It¡¯s a huge lot of nothing. I¡¯m happy she¡¯s happy, but once I¡¯m out of this Ride, the promise hasn¡¯t happened. Although, if everything goes well, he won¡¯t hear anything about the whole thing anyway, so I guess it doesn¡¯t really matter? Rides are the worst.

    She slaps her hands together, waking me up from my thoughts. ¡°It¡¯s good to talk with the old goat every once in a while! Keeps you sharp.¡±

    I really hope I never have to talk to him ever again. But I¡¯m more worried about how many more times I¡¯ll have to talk to her, and if she will eventually turn out to be as scary.

    </section>

 Chapter 21 - Spiralling Out of Control

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    Two guards are standing at her office¡¯s door. The corridor is lit by the familiar magical lanterns and their armor shines in the blue light. Lictor must have found out where I went on this Ride and sent the guards here directly. I wonder if he knew I¡¯d get killed by the guards in the entrance hall? Was it intentional? Did he want to get me off of that Ride and didn¡¯t care about killing me to do it? Does he know I¡¯m on a Ride? Am I, to him, now?

    My brain starts to hurt and I concentrate on figuring out what my next move should be. It¡¯s pointless to think about Rides or try to second guess Lictor. He has seen it all happen, except for the results of my latest Rides. Only after I¡¯m back in the real world, I¡¯ll have the advantage. And even then, only for a moment.

    One of the guards spots us. He snaps into attention, his heels clicking together. ¡°Lady representati¡ª!¡±

    His eyes roll back into his skull in the middle of the sentence. His back hits the door, and he slides down it, armor scraping the wood. The other guard falls first on his knees, then tilts and crumples into a heap on top of the other guard. I watch the two fallen guards. Are they¡­? Then the one on the bottom starts snoring.

    ¡°The Hall Watch is commanded by the Janitors,¡± Corum says. She clenches her hand into a fist, as the last wisps of blue light escape and float away through her fingers. ¡±Inside. Now.¡±

    <hr>

    Her shoulders relax and she throws handfuls of trinkets onto the table from her pockets. ¡±So, the Time Gem has probably been removed from the device.¡±

    I hear faint snoring from the other side of the door. ¡±What about the guards?¡±

    ¡±They¡¯ll be asleep for now. Not a concern.¡±

    ¡±But why didn¡¯t Lictor come himself?¡±

    ¡±Kid, I¡¯m not going to explain the rules of the council chambers or how those rules are enforced. It¡¯s enough for you to know that Janitors do not dare to trespass here. You have more urgent matters to consider.¡±

    My eyes land on the papers still on the table. The illustration of the Time Gem sits in the middle of everything.

    ¡±Listen. The Gem won¡¯t be far.¡± She points at the badge on my chest. ¡°It has been warded, similar to that thing. If someone had removed it from here, we would know. And disabling the wards takes days, no matter how well you¡¯ve practiced it. They¡¯ve been designed that way intentionally.¡±

    Her face is like it was in Marek¡¯s office. Muscles moving constantly, eyes darting around. She pushes her eyebrows around with her fingers, squinting and blinking, answering questions that I barely had time to think asking.

    ¡±It would be interesting to know what he has put in its place and how it affects the device. I should have taken a more active part in designing the thing.¡± She waves the thought away and keeps furrowing her brow. ¡±The Gem¡¯s not on the upper floors. Janitors aren¡¯t welcome and he wouldn¡¯t give it to anyone else. Ride level, most likely. In plain sight? No. But nearly. Minimum effort.¡±

    It makes sense, knowing Lictor. Among the fruits? In his pocket? Tucked into the couch Rworg sits on, so no one can look for it?

    ¡±There should be someone on the team that can fix the device. Who are the rest of the people?¡±

    ¡±Rworg, Finna and Mandollel. Mandollel is an¡ª¡±

    She waves me quiet. ¡±I know of them. The elf can do it.¡± She starts to sit down, but freezes, hands on the armrests holding her up. ¡±Wait.¡±

    Rain hammers the window above, but otherwise I can¡¯t hear anything. She stands, body tense, eyes narrowed to slits. Her fingers draw runes into the air. She does it with both hands at the same time, forming separate tangles of glowing symbols. That can¡¯t be easy.

    ¡°This is a first,¡± she says, pulling her mouth into a scowl. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    The door bursts open. The hinges wrench and scream as they are bent in the wrong direction. A shape flies in. Corum throws her hand forward, blazing with white light. The flying thing is one of the guards, thrown in like a ragdoll. Corum slams her hand closed, catching the power before it strikes the guard. What light escapes from between her fingers scorches the walls and cuts smoking gashes into her desk.

    I¡¯m still frozen in place when the guard hits some kind of invisible barrier around her. Corum swats him down as if wiping a window, dropping him to the floor. Her other hand sweeps in an arc, and lightning strikes from it toward the door.

    The flash blinds me. The sound is so loud, it feels like a physical blow. The crack reverberates through my body, pierces my ears. The forked afterimage of the lightning bolt swims black in my vision, obscuring anything behind it. I reel away and nearly trip on a carpet. The thick pieces of glass rain down on me, luckily missing my face. The impacts feel distant, my body numb from standing so close to a lightning strike.

    ¡±I never manage to dodge that completely,¡± Lictor says, his voice muffled. He¡¯s standing at the wrecked door, now hanging by a single bent hinge. Sparks still jump and spit, books and furniture smolder around him. His cloak is singed in places, but all the runes glow a stark bright blue against the cloth.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Corum raises her hand, but Lictor is quicker. His hands are outstretched toward Corum and tiny darts of blue light pour out from his splayed fingers. They keep coming and coming. Hundreds of small wedges of light arc out and blanket the room. Each of them flies following its own path, weaving through the rain drops falling in through the broken window.

    They fly right through her. Corum¡¯s form ripples and the darts hit the wall and the floor behind her. One arcs to the side and hits the floor right beside my foot. I jump away as the dart snaps and sparks, leaving a fist-sized hole in the stone floor.

    I bump into Corum, who¡¯s appeared behind me somehow. Was she there the whole time, or did she teleport?

    She pushes me from the back. ¡±Get down!¡± she shouts as I stumble forward.

    My knees hit the floor and I scramble to get behind her desk. Lights of different color reflect from the slick stone floor and the shattered glass. I get even more cuts into my hands and leave bloody palm prints on the floor. All sounds are muffled and on top of everything is a high-pitched ringing noise, louder than anything else. I crash my back into the desk, finally behind it.

    After a couple of breaths, I hazard a peek. Lictor and Corum are on opposite ends of the office, facing each other. Seeing Lictor makes me break out in goosebumps. His thin hair is plastered over his skull and sweat runs down his brow. There¡¯s a bubble around him, exactly like Corum had. The rain runs down it, pooling on the floor, leaving a dry spot in the middle. He releases two balls of floating light from both hands. They float upward gently and spew rays of light toward Corum.

    She wrenches her hands up and a slab of the floor stretches up to form a stone shield before her. Threads of molten red slag run down from the places the rays hit the stone.

    I have never seen anything like this. I doubt no one in the village has. If I somehow get out of here alive, no one is going to believe this part.

    A shrill laugh escapes me. I¡¯m on a Ride. No one is going to believe any part of this, at all.

    Lictor¡¯s small eyes snap to me. Corum is behind her slab and he must have heard the giggle. His eyes move to the still open plans on the desk and his brows raise up.

    A blazing ball of fire explodes around him. The blast of heat makes me blink and lose sight of Lictor. Corum hovers above her shield, smoke rising from her outstretched hand. The heat of the explosion curls my brows and steam fills the room.

    I drop back down behind the desk. The room feels like a sauna, hot and moist. There¡¯s a snore from my left and the guard rolls to his side. How can he still be asleep in the middle of all this? There¡¯s a small bloody nick on his cheek. Otherwise, his armor has protected him from the falling glass. A thick wooden stick hangs on his belt, another wand.

    Fists clenched, I prepare myself. I spin, clasp the edge of the table and pull myself up to take a look. Damn. Her wand is not there.

    She and Lictor are shouting something at each other. My ears feel like they are bleeding and I can¡¯t make out any of the words. There won¡¯t be a better opportunity to do something than this. The guard¡¯s wand will have to do. I yank it from the guard¡¯s belt and stand up.

    I point the wand at Lictor and press the button. The wand spits out a gust of wind or force. It cuts a circular tunnel through the rain still falling into the room, blasting the water into the bubble around Lictor. He himself is lifted into the air and slammed into a bookshelf and kept there by the wind. I can see the disappointed pout on his face before books rain down around him and cover his face from my sight. Corum hammers him with spell after spell, electricity arcs from droplet to droplet, white light paints the shadows black, the stone shield rips itself into fist-sized chunks that crash into the bubble still surrounding Lictor.

    Then the bubble is gone. Light, fire, electricity, everything pours into the area previously covered by the shield and swirls into a vortex. I¡¯m standing with the wand still extended to where Lictor was a moment ago. Everything takes barely a second. The blackened stones drop and bounce, hitting the smoldering heap that¡¯s left. The afterimages still play in my eyes, but I¡¯m not sure how much I could make out of what¡¯s left of him, even if they didn¡¯t. I let the wand drop from my hand and pinch my nose shut instead. The smell of ozone is so thick it makes my head spin.

    Corum¡¯s feet land lightly next to the heap. She waves a hand, and the floor stones turn liquid. They flow over the charred remains, hiding it from sight. She waves again, and a gust of wind blows out the broken window in the ceiling, taking with it the suffocating cloud of ozone and smoke. I let go of my nose and try to steady myself, keep my legs from wobbling.

    I don¡¯t notice at once that she¡¯s trying to talk to me. ¡±Are you badly hurt?¡± I see, more than hear, her mumble. She¡¯s probably not mumbling. The keening voice is still in my ears, piercing and constant.

    ¡±I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡±No need to yell.¡±

    I scratch my ears, to ease the pain and the sound, but it does nothing. I wish I could rip the ears clean off my head.

    Corum gestures something, light playing around her fingers, and the room goes dark and quiet. A translucent film stretches over the broken window on the ceiling, blocking out the rain and covering what light shone in from above. She lifts up a fallen magical lamp, places it on a table, and taps on it to make it shine brighter. She¡¯s doing it absently, while her mind is obviously somewhere else. She stops, hand on her chin. ¡±I have to assume we¡¯re part of a Ride. No Janitor would come to the council chambers if they weren¡¯t on one.¡±

    If I focus, I can make out what she¡¯s saying from the wail in my ears. This is going to get old real fast. I can¡¯t wait to get out from this Ride, but there¡¯s so much I still need to do that I can¡¯t leave yet. I don¡¯t know what to say to her. She¡¯s rolling a small piece of stone around with her foot.

    ¡±We have lost the War Janitor. The Etherthorn Weave will soon be in place and the mission is highly compromised. If you don¡¯t get going soon, this conflict won¡¯t end for years. We have to win, one way or another. Find the Gem or not, you¡¯re leaving.¡±

    Things are spiralling out of control. I nibble at the nail on my left thumb, a habit I thought I got rid of already. ¡±I¡¯m on a Ride too,¡± I finally say, keeping my voice low. ¡°Finding the Gem is more important than going on the mission.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t bat an eye. ¡±Wrong.¡±

    ¡±But I¡¯ll be gone before the mission will end!¡±

    ¡±I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re on a Ride. You sure as hell won¡¯t stay here playing treasure hunt when the rest of the team leaves.¡± She glowers at me, face painted black from the soot, eyes burning bright in contrast. ¡°This little adventure of yours has made the situation even worse than what it already was.¡± There¡¯s finality in her voice that would make Lille balk.

    I sure as hell do.

    </section>

 Chapter 22 - Shush, Tiny Man!

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    The guard yawns and stretches, luxuriating in both. Then his eyes snap open and he starts scanning the room, still lying down. He notices the hole in the wall and the burnt mound of stone in front of it, and his face goes pale. He grasps at his belt and the missing wand, and his eyes go even wider.

    ¡±At ease,¡± Corum says. ¡±There was a situation, but it¡¯s over. Wake up your colleague. You¡¯ll escort us downstairs.¡±

    The guard jumps up, clanking and rattling as he does. He winces and presses a hand at his back, brows furrowed in confusion. ¡±Yes, lady representative!¡± he shouts, way too loud so that even I hear it easily. When he takes a step, he winces again. The guard limps outside, glancing at the door hanging by one of its hinges.

    Corum watches him go. ¡±Enthusiastic, have to give them that.¡± She turns to me and hands me a small pouch. ¡±Tend to your wounds.¡±

    I take the pouch and place it on the table to open it, expecting to find bandages. Inside there¡¯s a small rag and a thick glass bottle of a blue liquid. The liquid shines through the glass, illuminating the desk in the dark room. I lift the bottle to my eyes, taking a deep breath. Ambrosia! I¡¯ve seen it once before, when a teratome spat its teeth right through Ral¡¯s stomach. They dribbled the stuff into the wounds and the punctures scarred over within hours. Ral complained about them itching for a long time, though. I look at the bottle and turn to Corum. ¡±How do I use it?¡±

    She makes an annoyed face, turning away from me as she¡¯s speaking. ¡°Why are you all shouting? Wet the cl¡­ d¡­b t¡­ ¡­s¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    She turns back and stops to look at me for a heartbeat. ¡°Ah, hearing damage, of course. I didn¡¯t have time to shield you, sorry,¡± she says, pronouncing the words with her whole face. ¡°First, pour some into your ears. Then, wet the cloth in the liquid and dab it at the cuts.¡± She mimes dunking something in her ear and talks loudly and slowly, like you talk to someone very old and perhaps somewhat dim.

    It¡¯s both annoying and helpful. The liquid tingles as I pour it into my ears. Some dribbles on my face and it¡¯s stickier and somehow lighter than water. Almost insubstantial on my skin. When the liquid blocks my ear, I can¡¯t hear anything except the whining drone. The pain numbs first, then the whine dims. The quiet almost makes me cry out of relief.

    Once I¡¯ve handled both ears, I take a look at myself in general. I¡¯m covered in cuts and bruises and bleeding worse than I ever have. My clothes are a mess. The bleeding stops immediately when I wipe the cuts with the wet cloth. A large gash in my forearm clots and the pain numbs, even though the cut is still visible, red and raw.

    Corum stands at the door, the guards hovering behind her shoulder. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve been wading in razors. Ready to go?¡±

    My ears still whine and I¡¯m a collection of freshly scabbed scars. My clothes are stiff and sticky with clotted blood. ¡°I guess.¡±

    ¡°At least you aren¡¯t shouting anymore. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    <hr>

    The landing hall is in turmoil. The merchants and nobles mill about. Guards are running back and forth through the hall, waving their hands and shouting at each other. No one seems to have an idea what they are doing. As we float down, the movement stops and all faces turn up to look at us. There¡¯s a moment of silence and then everyone starts shouting at the same time, demanding answers or voicing protests about their cancelled meetings or other grievances.

    Corum tries to say something, but her voice is lost in all the hubbub. Her mouth pulls into a snarl and the two guards lean away from her. She flicks her fingers, and the hall goes quiet. The quiet is deafening, like the moment after my ears stopped whining. The people below look confused, their mouths opening and closing, hands waving at us.

    We touch down in the middle of the circle. The guards hesitate and their eyes peer around the crowd.

    Corum pulls herself up to her full height. ¡°We¡¯re in a hurry,¡± she says in a quiet voice.

    She starts walking and the crowd parts before her. I follow closely behind her, as not to be left behind. I spot Astaroth in the crowd. He winks at Corum and gestures something with his fingers, a single dark eyebrow raised scandalously high.

    ¡°And you, I¡¯ll handle later,¡± Corum says, turning her head away from him.

    The smirk on Astaroth¡¯s face is the most self-satisfied thing I have ever seen. Heads in the crowd turn around, searching for whoever her comment was meant for. Astaroth doesn¡¯t know I told her he promised to leave her in peace. I¡¯m pretty sure he deserves whatever ends up happening.

    Corum takes the steps three at a time. The guard who was thrown through the door clambers awkwardly behind us, his face twisting and clenching without making a sound. The other guard is uninjured and could keep up, but he¡¯s trying to look dignified and orderly and descends the stairs like he¡¯s on a parade. I reach the bottom of the stairs with Corum. I expect her to continue forward, but she turns sharply toward a small door to the side. I haven¡¯t been in a building this large before, but even so, it makes no sense to me. Grand staircases lead directly to an auditorium connected to a kitchen, corridors twist and cross each other, a door suddenly opens up to a large greenhouse, which is connected to an office with rows and rows of desks.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way I would get out of here on my own,¡± I say aloud, as Corum takes another turn and walks through a room full of guards changing clothes.

    Her eyes are glued to the door on the opposite end of the room. ¡°Tenorsbridge is singular. Most buildings have been created piece by piece by someone who needed a lecture hall, a dressing room or what have you. There¡¯s still a balcony left floating over the Market Square after Marek wanted to watch the city wake up one morning.¡± She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. ¡°I hear it¡¯s becoming a tourist attraction.¡±

    We step through another door and we¡¯re in the big hall with the pyramid.

    The other Janitor is waiting for us, arms crossed across her chest. She looks at me and then takes another look, mouth pressing into a thin line. My clothes are hanging on me in tatters, soiled in blood even though I¡¯m not bleeding anymore. She gives me a look like I¡¯m going to be getting a lecture later, but turns to Corum. ¡°Representative.¡±

    ¡°Janitor. A replacement will be needed for the War Janitor.¡±

    She blinks a couple of times, but then nods. ¡°There¡¯s an hour before the Etherthorn Weave is put in place. Do you mind?¡± The question hangs in the air.

    Corum crosses her arms and presses her chin to her chest. ¡°Go ahead.¡±

    The Janitor turns on her heels and marches to the pyramid. She slaps a hand on it and there¡¯s the familiar flash. She turns back and starts to count things off with her fingers. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in two hours. It takes too long to persuade the new Janitor to accept the job and we have to walk back. I¡¯ll send a cleaning crew to your office before I leave. You¡¯ll need to intervene at Liam¡¯s office after this discussion and Liam will need three hours to gather himself once he hears of Lictor, so take that into account.¡± She stops to roll her eyes and lifts up a fifth finger. ¡°And Astaroth will try to surprise you upstairs and you cripple him accidentally. Do what you will with this information.¡±

    Corum runs a hand over her eyes and groans. The Janitor disappears without another word. The smell of ozone stays behind to linger in the cold air of the hall.

    The door creaks open and a face peeks in. A moment later, the uninjured guard stumbles in, supporting the other guard leaning on him. ¡°All clear, lady representative? All Rides done?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Corum says firmly, without turning around. She stares at me. ¡°You have 30 minutes to do whatever you want. After that, the mission will begin. Don¡¯t make me come get you.¡±

    <hr>

    I was planning to run straight through Liam¡¯s office, but stop. Mandollel, Rworg, and Finna are in the room. Rwrog looms over Liam. It seems whatever happens between them and Lictor leaves them unharmed. It¡¯s nice to know, even if it won¡¯t matter when I¡¯m back and can stop the whole thing early. Mandollel poses with his weight on one leg, hip angled to the side, and torso twisted to meet my gaze as I rush in. Finna rolls her eyes at him.

    ¡°Locke!¡± Rworg shouts. He has his massive sword in hand, nearly scratching the ceiling with it as he spreads his arms in greeting.

    Liam leans away from him. ¡°Please, be careful, everything is certainly under control¡ª¡°

    ¡°Shush, tiny man!¡± Rworg bellows at him.

    Liam¡¯s knees jerk like he¡¯s about to duck below his desk.

    Mandollel lowers a hand on Rworg¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Peace, friend,¡± he says and turns to me. ¡°Did Lictor find you?¡±

    ¡°Um, he did. We have to leave soon, but I will need to search the floor for something before that.¡±

    Mandollel¡¯s smile tightens. ¡°What are you looking for?¡±

    ¡°A jewel. Around this size, probably very confusing to look at. Have you seen it?¡± I lift my hands and mime holding something larger than a coin.

    ¡°Why do you have extra thumbs?¡° Liam asks, but Mandollel shouts over his questions.

    ¡°The Time Gem?¡± There¡¯s clear panic in his voice.

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s what it was called on the¡­¡°

    I stop talking as Mandollel grabs onto a backpack that Finna is wearing and wrenches it off her.

    ¡°Hey!¡± she shouts, regains her balance beautifully and kicks at Mandollel.

    He doesn¡¯t react as the kick hits his shin. He¡¯s elbow deep in the backpack, lifting something out of it. I recognize the device from the blueprint. It¡¯s a large half-sphere of metal. The levers and buttons from the blueprint are there, but the plates cover whatever is inside. Mandollel takes a knife from his belt and places the device on Liam¡¯s desk. After a moment¡¯s tinkering, a plate pops off from the device and he takes a hissing breath through his teeth.

    ¡°The mission will proceed nonetheless,¡± Corum says from behind me.

    I jump. The Janitor did say Corum needed to intervene, but it still comes as a surprise.

    Corum continues, this time directly at Mandollel. ¡°The Time Gem is still here, in the building. You will get it back. You have my word.¡±

    Mandollel¡¯s shoulders are raised up to his pointy ears. They lower slowly before he speaks. ¡°But how can the device still work?¡±

    ¡°I looked into it. The addition of the Gem came later. It will now do what it was meant to do, originally.¡±

    Finna¡¯s eyes have a dangerous look below the mass of her tangled hair. ¡°Kill everyone, you mean?¡±

    Corum faces her glare. ¡°Not everyone. Them.¡± Finna tries to say something, but Corum continues, cutting her off. ¡°Make no mistake. It¡¯s unforgivable. Monstrous. But this is about the survival of everyone on the continent and the only solution we have. Lictor made sure of that.¡±

    Liam looks up. ¡°Where is he, by the way? He ran past earlier, making an odd face.¡±

    Corum¡¯s mouth tenses, but she forces it into a smile. ¡°Lictor is still upstairs.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Liam says and smiles. After a moment, he scratches his head. ¡°I thought Janitors weren¡¯t supposed to go upstairs?¡±

    Mandollel clears his throat. ¡°We already agreed to this. Even if there was an alternative, there is none now.¡± He puts the plate back into place and shoves the device back into Finna¡¯s bag, starting to close the straps with an air of finality.

    ¡°I still have time!¡±

    Everyone turns to look at me. Corum nudges her head toward the corridor where Lictor always took me. ¡°Better get moving, then.¡±

    Mandollel swings his head to throw a lock of hair back to behind his ear. ¡°I¡¯ll go with. You¡¯ll need someone to open the doors.¡±

    Finna crosses her arms and scowls. ¡°We all go.¡±

    That¡¯s a surprise, I thought she didn¡¯t want any part in this. I can¡¯t help myself from asking. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re a team, stupid.¡±

    </section>

 Chapter 23 - Itâ€™s Brittle

    All four of us run down along the corridor that suddenly feels much longer now that I¡¯m in a hurry. We¡¯re absolutely not a team. What have they been up to while I was gone? I should ask them at some point.

    We reach the fruit room and Mandollel wiggles his fingers at the door, a similar complicated gesture as Lictor used. Of course he can do magic too. The door doesn¡¯t open, though.

    Mandollel frowns, but Rworg pushes him aside and kicks at the door. The thump echoes around the corridor, but the door stays shut. He frowns as well.

    Mandollel adjusts the cuff of his left sleeve with his right hand, the fingers of his left hand stretching in preparation. ¡°Well protected. It will take a moment to draw a spell powerful enough.¡°

    Rworg grabs onto both my and Mandollel¡¯s shoulder and takes a step back. His grip is like Ral¡¯s. He could probably break my collarbone by squeezing. He kicks at the door again, putting all of his body behind the kick, pushing us both off balance in the opposite direction. His boot lands square in the middle of the door.

    The door flies into the room. It topples the table and sends fruit flying across the floor.

    There¡¯s a moment of silence, the three of us stunned, Rworg looking pleased. A bent hinge dangles from the doorframe before dropping down and clattering onto the stone floor.

    ¡°There,¡± Rworg says. ¡°Booted ajar.¡±

    ¡°Quite,¡± Mandollel murmurs, running his hand over the splintered wood. Finna gives Rworg a thumbs-up and grins.

    I push between Rworg and Mandollel to get into the room and start throwing pillows off the sofa. ¡°We¡¯re looking for a jewel about the size of a large coin in diameter. It¡¯s probably hidden only enough not to be noticed if people aren¡¯t searching for it.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the point of hiding anything like that?¡± Finna says, but starts to search as well. She has her own way to do it, ripping holes into pillows with her dagger, knocking on walls, and looking at the undersides of chairs.

    ¡°We will look at the other rooms,¡± Rworg says.

    After a moment, the sound of wood ripping and crashing echoes from the corridor.

    I¡¯m left alone with Finna. She has ripped the cushioning off the chair and throws a handful of white fluff over her shoulder. ¡°There¡¯s nothing here.¡±

    I shift through the fruits, looking for the teratome gland. Just in case. ¡°You¡¯d think they have some way of tracing something that important.¡±

    ¡°They are a bunch of idiots,¡± she says. ¡°I once saw a wizard shrink a spoon by magic, so it wouldn¡¯t poke him in the eye when he was drinking coffee. Instead of, you know, taking the spoon out from the cup. Made fencing them impossible.¡±

    I haven¡¯t heard her talk so long or tell any story before. Maybe she¡¯s getting used to me. ¡°So, what happened with Lictor earlier? With the diversion?¡±

    Finna grins. There¡¯s a tooth missing at the corner of the smile. ¡°Mandollel dragged him around the room for a solid five minutes. It was great. Then Rworg grabbed Mandollel, and they wrestled for a while. He wasn¡¯t in on the diversion, but it worked out.¡± Then she scowls and looks away. ¡°Then it happened like you said. He talked us into it. The bastard talked us into it.¡±

    She kicks the ripped up chair, and it tumbles to the ground, spinning to the corner.

    I consider putting a hand on her shoulder, but decide against it. ¡°Finna, of course he did. Listen, even the wizards upstairs fear the Janitors.¡±

    She takes a fluttering breath, but the moment passes. Her eyes zip around the room, taking final stock of it. ¡°It¡¯s not here. And he is not here, either. Where is he?¡±

    ¡°Taken care of,¡± I say, slipping the gland into my pocket. I finally found it under the sofa. The spikes dig into the thumb on my palm and I yank out my hand to check if it broke skin.

    ¡°What the hell happened to you? You¡¯re cut to shreds and you have¡­ those.¡±

    I stare at my palm, feeling numb. ¡°I got caught between wizards fighting. The thumbs are because of the Rides. I think I¡¯m stuck with them.¡± It¡¯s easier to say than I thought. If I¡¯ve understood things right, they can still disappear once I¡¯m off from this Ride.

    ¡°Rides can do that to you? Damn.¡±

    There¡¯s a knock at where the door used to be. Mandollel is standing there, knocking on the wrecked doorframe. ¡°Did you find anything?¡±

    I shake my head.

    ¡°Neither in the other rooms. None of the rooms have that many potential hiding places and we looked everywhere.¡±

    Finna rolls her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll go and take another look.¡±

    Rworg leans in over Mandollel¡¯s shoulder, his large face solemn. ¡°We were very thorough.¡±

    Finna snorts and pushes between them out to the corridor.

    ¡°We were, though,¡± Mandollel says.

    I can¡¯t help chuckling at how crestfallen the two men look.

    <hr>

    I¡¯m not chuckling anymore. The Gem is nowhere to be found and Corum is tapping her foot at the end of the corridor. She calls at us, waving a hand toward the room behind her.

    I clench my teeth together and my hands into tight fists. ¡°Where can it be?¡±

    ¡°There were no guarantees that it was hidden poorly to begin with,¡± Mandollel says. There¡¯s a tremor to his voice. His cheeks are flushed.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Rworg slaps us both on the shoulder, nearly bowling me over. ¡°Nonetheless! We must do what we must do!¡±

    I guess Lictor really did talk them into it, at the end. Even Finna walks toward Corum, though all the groaning and muttering make it clear she¡¯s not happy about it.

    I consider making a run for it, but I know it¡¯s useless. The Gem was not there. ¡°Where could he have hidden it?¡± I say out loud.

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s in his pocket,¡± Finna says. ¡°He keeps fiddling with something in there.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s silly¡ª¡° Mandollel says, but stops. He puts a finger on his nose, pressing it down toward his pouted lips. ¡°He does, now that you mention it.¡±

    ¡°We have minutes,¡± Corum barks from the door. She keeps tapping her foot and waving her hand toward the room, trying to hurry us up.

    ¡°We have to find him and get it!¡± Finna shouts.

    Corum¡¯s face is tense, her eyes hard and grey as steel. ¡°This is on your hands, uncle,¡± she mutters.

    I point toward the stairs. ¡°It won¡¯t take that long!¡±

    ¡°No. We¡¯re out of time. The Etherthorn Weave is about to happen. You¡¯re already late, so take that into account when you get there.¡±

    ¡°We can still do it travelling over land,¡± Mandollel says.

    Corum doesn¡¯t answer. She¡¯s drawing a gesture in the air with her right hand, the shapes hanging on the air as shining streaks of blue.

    I look at her, and her eyes move to avoid my gaze.

    Does it mean something?

    Wait.

    I¡¯m not sure, but we should have more time before the Weave happens. And how can we be out of time here, of all places? I gasp, taking a step toward her. ¡°You said you looked into how the device works! Did you go on a Ride earlier? You could have searched for the Gem and gotten it for us!¡±

    Corum¡¯s jaw tightens. ¡°You really are quite sharp, aren¡¯t you? I did. The Gem was in his pocket. It¡¯s brittle. Destroyed in the fight. I¡¯m sorry, but you still need to go.¡±

    Mandollel growls, teeth bared. His hand snaps toward her. I dodge to avoid whatever is going to happen, but nothing does. Mandollel¡¯s hand hangs in the air, his mouth open, one eyebrow raised, and one eye half closed. A soft yellow glow dims around him, leaving him standing in place.

    Corum shifts her left hand to point at the rest of us. ¡°Please don¡¯t move. I don¡¯t want anything left behind. Teleporting a group like this is finicky.¡± Her eyes flick to the runes she¡¯s drawing with her right hand and return to watching us.

    A soft, long wheeze escapes from Mandollel. His eyelids creep to cover his eyes painfully slowly.

    I try to follow Corum¡¯s right hand, but it¡¯s hard to concentrate on it, when her left is hovering before my eyes, trailing my every move. How can she do both at the same time, if I have trouble just watching her do it?

    She clicks her tongue, satisfied. The glow around his right hand gets brighter.

    ¡°Bastards,¡± Finna says, as the world winks out.

    <hr>

    This time I appear in the air. I drop and regain my balance as I land on the soft forest ground. Finna lands softly, Rworg heavily. Mandollel, on the other hand, drops stiffly, arm still reached out. His legs bump into the ground and he starts tilting. He falls like a plank, his legs bouncing first up and then down when he hits the ground. It would look funny if I didn¡¯t see him land into the coarse path face first. At least his eyes were still closed. His groan lasts twice as long as I could breathe out.

    ¡°The mage froze him,¡± Rworg says.

    Finna¡¯s sigh is almost as long as Mandollel¡¯s groan was. ¡°Yes, she did. Maybe it¡¯s better this way. He would have thrown a tantrum about the jewel.¡±

    There¡¯s an angry, drawn-out gurgle from Mandollel.

    Finna slides her hands under the elf and looks up at Rworg. ¡°Help me out so he doesn¡¯t suffocate on moss or something.¡±

    I recognize the unfamiliar type of forest. The evergreen trees and the large boulders are the same. I can make them out in the dark, even though it¡¯s later than we¡¯ve been here on the earlier Rides. I leave Finna and Rworg rolling Mandollel around and go scout our surroundings. He is still stiff as a board, one arm pointing to the sky, so we can¡¯t do anything before he can move again.

    I push away the branches from my face as I go. I¡¯m not sure why I stick around. I¡¯m maybe too confused and hurt by the whole thing. I¡¯m angry at Corum. She did what she knew to be necessary. She would have seen what telling us about the Gem would do. Maybe we wouldn¡¯t have gone. Maybe Mandollel would have killed someone. At least she admitted everything at the end.

    I¡¯m still angry.

    I clench my fists together and yelp when the extra thumbs get caught in the middle. I haven¡¯t even touched my bow yet, mostly because I fear finding out how hard it will now be. The teratome gland is in my pocket, poking me with its spikes through the cloth.

    I ignore it. Better try to learn as much as possible, now that I still have this one chance.

    I soon find the lights of the camp. It¡¯s the same one, again. The Kertharians themselves are all in different places than I anticipated. Obviously they would have moved as we¡¯re here much later than before, but it still comes as a surprise, making me feel dumb. The mages are nowhere to be seen this time. Silhouettes moving inside the command tent, painted by the light shining inside.

    Maybe the mages are all there together. This might make things easier or harder. I don¡¯t know mages. Will they fight as a unit or get in each other¡¯s way? After seeing Corum and Lictor fight, taking on three mages by myself is a much scarier thought. I have a feeling the Kertharians are not in the same league as those two, but I still better get the drop on them.

    As I return to the others, Mandollel gasps and goes limp. His hand slaps him on the face, finally dropping from its pointing position.

    Finna grabs his other arm and starts to pull. ¡°Finally! Now get up, we have to get moving.¡±

    Mandollel gurgles and wheezes. Finna manages to lift him from the ground for a bit, but he falls back down the moment she lets go of his hand. ¡°Wait,¡± he croaks. His face is scraped from falling down on it on the path and there¡¯s dirt in his hair. With every movement, he makes small involuntary noises. When he bends his knees, they crack, and he lets out a groan that¡¯s half pained and half satisfied.

    ¡°Comfy now?¡± Finna asks. ¡°Can we go?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need a moment,¡± Mandollel says. He hugs his knees to his chest and stretches his shoulder blades back, popping all the way.

    Rworg points toward the forest. ¡°Movement and lights. Large group. An attack is happening.¡±

    Small flickers of orange light shine in the forest, appearing and disappearing between the trees. I watch them, chewing my lower lip. Mandollel sees the lights too and pushes himself into a sitting position.

    Rworg raises a fist before his chin. His jaw is set and his eyes fixed to a point above the horizon. ¡°We will face my kinsmen proudly. We¡ª¡°

    Finna kicks him behind the kneecap, cutting his announcement off and making him wobble. ¡°Of course we won¡¯t. This isn¡¯t a practice run. This is for real.¡±

    Rworg pouts, but then turns to help Mandollel, who¡¯s reaching a hand up to him.

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± he says, grabbing Rworg¡¯s hand and letting him pull him up. ¡°We can¡¯t risk the mission for this. Only thing worse than accomplishing what we¡¯re doing is failing in the attempt.¡±

    Rworg¡¯s face twists and his eyes glisten, like he¡¯s about to cry. ¡°There¡¯s no telling where they will go, who they will kill!¡±

    Doesn¡¯t he know? Maybe Lictor didn¡¯t have a chance to brief them this time at all, as he spent his time running after me and getting killed by Corum.

    Mandollel reaches to squeeze Rworg¡¯s shoulder, his slender and pale fingers shining against his tan skin. He pats him a couple of times and then his arm flops down and he grimaces. ¡°I can¡¯t even lift my arm yet. I grieve for every single life lost, and yet we can¡¯t throw away this one chance that we have.¡±

    There¡¯s a rustle from the forest. An animal? Or a step? Rworg doesn¡¯t react, but Mandollel and Finna become very still and quiet. I freeze too. Listening for something in the quiet makes it clear my ears are still ringing a bit. The sound¡¯s going to make me mad before long.

    ¡°What?¡± Rworg asks.

    ¡°Shh!¡± Mandollel shushes him.

    Finna slides daggers out from her sleeves and into her hands. The movement is completely silent, not even a hiss. At least nothing I could hear with the stupid whining in my ears.

    The thought is cut short. The forest explodes with screaming. The mad wailing cuts through the night, chilling me to the bone.

 Chapter 24 - Mission Comes First

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    The Kertharians shout and wail, their battle cry a long litany of unfamiliar syllables, rising and lowering in pitch. It feels like language, somewhere below the rage and spittle. The forest is pitch black, the tall evergreens and heavy clouds blocking out most moonlight. I can¡¯t see the Kertharians yet. They¡¯ve been traveling in the dark, without torches or other lights.

    Mandollel grimaces with every movement, but pulls out his slender sword from its loop. The loop sizzles and the blade sings as he does, the scent of ozone crisp among the earthy smells of the forest. He takes a halting step and leans his back against a tree.

    ¡°Take care of the Peacock,¡± Finna says, and is gone. Disappeared without a trace into the shadows and dark of the trees.

    Rworg starts shouting, a similar string of sounds as the Kertharians in the forest. It¡¯s like he¡¯s singing a melody against them. Unlike the song, the curved sword in his hand doesn¡¯t resemble the weapons that I¡¯ve seen the Kertharians use. I wish he would take a couple of steps away from me and Mandollel. The sword is stupidly large.

    I¡¯m ready to cry before I get the first arrow nocked on the string. I fumble with the quiver and the arrows and even holding the bow feels awkward. The extra thumbs wreck all muscle memory I¡¯ve built up over the years. Mandollel watches me, but doesn¡¯t say anything. He¡¯s leaning against the tree, testing his legs and arms.

    Four Kertharians step out from the forest. Three are holding swords, but I focus on the one hanging back with a bow. He takes aim at me. I¡¯m faster and the shot should be easy. It doesn¡¯t matter. My arrow whizzes past his head and into the forest. He doesn¡¯t even flinch. Instead, he finishes his draw.

    The bowstring twangs and Mandollel¡¯s sword whistles at the same time. He slaps the arrow from flight, and it goes flying to the side, landing somewhere in the underbrush. The silvery arc of his sword lingers in the air before my chest.

    The rest of the Kertharians approach Rworg, but I keep my eyes locked on the archer. He is already nocking a new arrow, but something flies at him from the corner of my vision. His motion stops. The archer goes slack and falls to the side, the hilt of Finna¡¯s dagger jutting out from the side of his neck. I¡¯m still fumbling with my next arrow. It¡¯s impossible to do anything properly with the thumbs. They snag on my clothes and bump into the arrows I¡¯m trying to grab, and everything is stupid and wrong! I scream when I drop the arrow as I¡¯m about to get it nocked onto the bowstring.

    ¡°They have this,¡± Mandollel says. His arm is hanging limply to the side, the sword dangling in his hand. ¡°Grab me before I fall down.¡± He¡¯s leaning and slumping away from the tree. His face is the only thing under control at the moment, the rest of his body shaking and legs wobbling under him.

    I drop my bow and grab him as his knees buckle. He¡¯s almost a head taller than me and I try to prepare, but he¡¯s much heavier than he looks. Rworg and Finna better have it, because I sure as heck won¡¯t be able to do anything, getting crushed under the elf.

    I can¡¯t do anything except watch. This is the first time I can watch Rworg fight and it¡¯s nothing like I¡¯ve ever seen. Even the way that Bann moves seems graceful and controlled compared to what Rworg seems to be doing. His swings are wide and brutal and I fear he¡¯s leaving himself completely open, but the way he rotates his whole body, changing the direction of his blade in fluid and surprising arcs, makes it impossible for the Kertharians to get close to him. When one of them finally manages to try to hit him, Rworg¡¯s sword swats the blade directly from the Kertharian¡¯s hand. The sword spins wildly into the forest from the strength of the impact and vanishes into the dark.

    I expect the man to fall back or try to get away. Instead, he lunges at Rworg with both hands reached out to him, teeth gritted into a snarl. Rworg grabs him with one arm and shoves him into the other Kertharian, following up with a swing of his sword. I wince and turn away in time to avoid seeing what happens. The Kertharians are still singing or screaming, but one voice stops.

    Mandollel grabs my tunic with his fist. ¡°Finna has the last one,¡± he gasps, holding on and nearly pulling me down with him. ¡°Put me down, already.¡±

    I try to tune out the sounds of the battle as much as I can. Hunting animals is never this grisly. Usually it¡¯s clean and quick. This feels more like hunting teratomes - dirty, dangerous and unpleasant. The two last Kertharian voices go silent nearly at the same time. I manage to lower Mandollel to the ground without falling down on him and look up to see Finna stand behind a corpse of one the Kertharians. She¡¯s pulling a dagger out from the person¡¯s back. This one looks like a civilian. She¡¯s not wearing any armor, and I again remember the woman with the ladle. At least this one was carrying a proper sword.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Rworg throws something unceremoniously into the forest. It¡¯s a leg. He crouches to pick up something else from the ground, and bile rises up in my throat. This is what Lille and Gran didn¡¯t want me to see. Rworg is again painted with blood, black in the moonlight. Does he do that on purpose? The thought makes me chuckle in all its absurdity. My hands shake and tremors run through my whole body.

    Mandollel reaches up to grab my hand. ¡°Locke, listen to me. We do what we have to. To save everyone else.¡± His face is serious, and I chuckle again.

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ nerves,¡± I manage to say. He lies on the forest path where I put him down, limp and unable to even get up, but he¡¯s trying to comfort me. My teeth are chattering and I can barely hold back the chuckles that try to rise up my throat.

    ¡°I know, but we¡¯re not done. Help me up again, please.¡±

    Something in him asking for help cuts through the panic. I breathe in gasps and tremble all over, but grab his hand and drag him up. He¡¯s less limp now, standing more steadily than before. He squeezes my shoulder and leaves his hand there. The touch helps a bit.

    Mandollel¡¯s voice is strong and smooth. ¡°We need to go. The main force will come to investigate, either before or after the attack.¡±

    Rworg crosses his arms before his chest. ¡°Prevention, retribution, yet the mission must come first.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Mandollel says.

    <hr>

    The Kertharians crash through the forest behind us, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night. Their torches vanish and reappear behind the trees, casting faint, long shadows ahead of them. We¡¯ve been running for what feels like hours.

    Earlier, Finna poured a whole bottle of ambrosia over Mandollel¡¯s trousers. He grumbled something about freezing later, but Rworg massaged his legs for a minute and they started working again. Mandollel¡¯s arms still try to swing and dangle and he hugs them to his chest when running. Corum really wrecked him, whatever it was she did.

    We¡¯re heading to the east, toward Kerthar. I don¡¯t have time to figure out where we are more precisely, but we¡¯re heading toward sunrise. Someone has to have a map. I have my bow and some odds and ends, but the rest have full backpacks. Finna has the device in her bag, which looks heavy and bounces on her back. Her constant muttered litany of curses is the only thing anyone says. I have it easier¡ªrunning in the forest is nothing new to me, and having next to no gear to carry feels like luxury.

    Dawn is breaking, and I¡¯m not sure what that means for us. It¡¯ll be harder to hide, but at least we can see where we are running and not tripping over every root and stone anymore.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Finna shouts suddenly. She turns her head around, moving her gaze over the trees and the rocks. The area looks like every other place we¡¯ve run through and past during the night.

    Mandollel and Rworg stop and look at Finna. They must have worked together more than I have. The Kertharians howl in the forest behind us. Even though I¡¯m panting and tired, I want to do nothing but to keep running. The Kertharians must be as tired as us, but they show no sign of giving up the pursuit. Judging from the sounds, the whole camp is coming after us.

    Finna points into the forest. ¡°There¡¯s a hiding spot nearby.¡±

    The forest looks impenetrable. We have been running using animal trails and paths. Leaving the path and pushing our way directly into the forest might have been a way to lose the Kertharians. It could work if it was the three of us, but Rworg would leave behind a trail of snapped twigs and flattened underbrush that even a blind person could follow.

    ¡°Lead the way,¡± Mandollel says.

    We push into the thicket. I let Finna go first but take the second place, clearing the way for Rworg and Mandollel. I want to be sure the big man doesn¡¯t try to carve a path through the branches. Mandollel moves through the forest like a fish in water. Even if his arms are still not working right, he ducks and weaves through the branches absent-mindedly as if he were on a nice little stroll. The guy is infuriating.

    Finna leads us to a massive boulder. It juts out from the forest ground, wider than a cart is long and covered in moss and last autumn¡¯s fallen leaves. Finna dives under it, disappearing into a space under the boulder that I had no idea was there.

    ¡°You know it¡¯s big enough,¡± Mandollel says to Rworg.

    ¡°I know,¡± he says, even though his face stays sullen. He takes off his bag and sword and slides them under the rock, then squeezes into the space after. It looks impossible, but he disappears from sight completely.

    Mandollel follows him in. He wriggles himself backward into the hole. His bright eyes are the last thing I see before even they fade into darkness.

    After he¡¯s gone, there¡¯s no way to notice there¡¯s any kind of space below the boulder at all. The snapping of branches and shouts shakes me from my torpor and I drop on all fours and dive into the space.

    It¡¯s pretty large, but there are four of us now in it. It¡¯s dark and damp and Rworg smells so much of blood that it¡¯s hard to breathe, but I still relax. No one could ask for a better hiding spot. There are branches covering the entrance and it inclines down sharply, so that we can see a sliver of the sky that¡¯s fading from deep blue to pink. There¡¯s no way someone could spot us here if they didn¡¯t actually watch us hide.

    I twist to take a look around. We¡¯re all squeezed into the space. Rworg might have trouble rolling over to his other side, but for the rest of us, it¡¯s actually almost spacious. The boulder is hanging above us. From the outside, it looked like it would have reached deep into the earth, but it¡¯s actually more of a slab. As if a giant had cut a proper boulder in half and placed the top half here, leaving a gap under it.

    Finna yawns. I smile, but can¡¯t stop myself from yawning as well. We¡¯ve been up for a day and a night at this point. Even though my breathing hasn¡¯t calmed down after the fighting and the chase, I can¡¯t help feeling like I¡¯ll fall asleep unless I fight it.

    I don¡¯t.

    </section>

 Chapter 25 - Finally Back

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    I¡¯m alone. The space below the rock is warm, not clammy and cold like it was when I closed my eyes. It¡¯s still stuffy, though. When I crawl out from the hole, the sun is already edging back toward the horizon.

    Finna¡¯s leaning on a tree nearby. When she spots me, she rolls her eyes. ¡°It rises. Maybe we can finally get going.¡±

    I shade my eyes. It¡¯s already evening, but I literally crawled out from under a rock. I¡¯m sore all over, but otherwise I¡¯m fine. I breathe in the warm forest air and smile. My smile vanishes as I raise my hand to block out the low hanging sun and nearly poke a thumb into my eye. ¡°Where are the others?¡±

    ¡°Rworg should be around. Mandollel went to hunt down the rest of the Kertharians. We¡¯ve been up for hours, but you just kept on sleeping.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been through a lot lately,¡± I mutter. I listen, but it¡¯s just the two of us. It¡¯s now or never. ¡°Look, Finna. Can you pick pockets?¡±

    She snorts at me and drops to squat on her haunches. ¡°How come?¡±

    ¡°Do you think you could pick Lictor¡¯s pockets? If it was important?¡±

    She looks at me for a while. She doesn¡¯t say anything, just keeps on looking as her face keeps tensing up more and more.

    ¡°You said it yourself. The thing we were looking for might be in his pocket. If we get another chance, how could I talk you into trying?¡± It feels like stabbing her in the back and in the face at the same time. Still, once she realizes what this means, she¡¯ll probably stab me. We¡¯ll be even then.

    Her mouth opens a couple of times but she closes it again, licks her lips.

    ¡°Finna, I need¡ª¡°

    ¡°Shut up,¡± she says. She blinks and looks to the side, eyes glinting with tears. ¡°Just tell me to do it.¡±

    ¡°Finna, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± She bounces up and turns away, wiping her face with her sleeves. ¡°If Mandollel finds out, he¡¯ll kill you.¡±

    ¡°I know. I told him once and he cut my head off.¡±

    Finna chuckles, but it has a bit of a sob added in. I stay wary in case she decides to stab me after all. ¡°He does that, yeah.¡±

    I walk closer, fingering the teratome gland in my pocket. ¡°But, you¡¯ll do it if I ask?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I got you the diversion, didn¡¯t I? You¡¯d damn well better know what you¡¯re talking about afterwards.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. I really mean it.¡± I pat her on the shoulder and she grins at me, tears still in her eyes. I take out the gland from my pocket and pop it into my mouth.

    Or I try to, but Finna spins and her hand slaps mine like a snake uncoiling, shooting the gland from my hand straight into the forest. She leans close to my face, teeth bared. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± she says, finger raised between our faces so close I¡¯m seeing it double. It smells of dirt. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare leave us in the forest with a corpse.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡­¡± I actually have no idea what I could say, but I wouldn¡¯t have had a chance to continue as Finna continues, pushing me backwards and waving the finger like she¡¯s about to poke me in the eye.

    ¡°Things are messed up enough already! You have extra thumbs. We have been running in the wrong direction for half a night. Mandollel is still whining about cramps and his arms being sore! You¡¯re absolutely not leaving us to do this with just three people. Even if that bastard was lying about everything else, he made it very clear we¡¯ll need all four of us.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d just be back for real sooner!¡±

    ¡°No! You¡¯ll stay here and help. I don¡¯t know what happens afterwards. Maybe you¡¯ll disappear. Maybe you won¡¯t. But I sure as hell ain¡¯t going to spend time burying your goddamn blackening corpse in some damn forest!¡± She hisses the last words quietly, as there¡¯s a rustle from behind me.

    Rworg pushes through some woods. The blood on him has dried and is flaking off. ¡°Locke has risen! Now we can¡ª¡°

    The glow of the pyramid fades. I¡¯m still pulling my hand back to slap it again on the artifact, but recoil away. The Janitor is standing with her arms crossed, where she always is.

    ¡°¡ªside effects can be pretty nasty. Oh, sure, ignore me and go on another one, won¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Wait. I¡¯m back. For real,¡± I mutter, raising a hand toward her.

    It¡¯s harder to orient to being back this time. Maybe it was because I didn¡¯t die at the end. Have I actually died on every single Ride so far? That¡¯s a pretty grim thought.

    ¡°Seems you brought some thumbs with you.¡±

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    I gasp and look at my palms, and there they still are. The thumbs are sticking out from the middle of my palms like¡­ I don¡¯t even know what to call it. The Janitor tuts me as I curse.

    ¡°I tried to warn you. Couple of extra fingers is quite standard, though. Those can probably be taken off.¡°

    ¡°Minerva.¡±

    She stops, closes her mouth, and harrumphs.

    ¡°I have to get back to the briefing room at once. Can you smooth things out with Liam?¡±

    The corners of her lips lift up, even if the smile doesn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°So that¡¯s what it feels like to be talked like that.¡±

    ¡°Please, I need to go.¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine. Go.¡±

    I turn and run off before she has finished. Liam is waiting on the other side of the door, so I slow down. I don¡¯t want to slam him with it. This is the real world, and I¡¯d feel bad even if it wasn¡¯t. I lost track of the time on the last Ride. Now I have to wing everything, as I didn¡¯t manage to plan things out like I wanted to.

    Liam is there, wringing his hands. I slip past and run. I know Lictor will have his hands full with Mandollel and Rworg, so that should give me enough time to talk to Finna. We should try to get the Gem off him without him even realizing it¡¯s gone. The later we take it off him, the better.

    Etherthorn Weave is looming, time running out. As Lictor said, we¡¯re boxed in. Even if I tried to cause a scene, I can¡¯t count on the council. Marek would intimidate everyone to change their minds or create an illusion of the Gem. Lictor would lie about knowing something about the future.

    It¡¯s up to me. Us.

    <hr>

    I hear the shouting the moment I step into the corridor. The door is ajar and Rworg is still watching what¡¯s happening inside. He has his hands on his hips and is shaking his head, his tail of coppery hair swinging in response. It¡¯s hard to grasp I¡¯ve been gone for a few minutes.

    Rworg notices me when I nudge him to the side to peek inside. ¡±Locke, where did you¡ª¡±

    I shh him, and Finna does the same. She¡¯s standing near the door and noticed me the moment I peeked in. Finna swipes her finger over her neck, making savage cutting motions at Rworg.

    Mandollel has pushed Lictor up to the opposite wall and is poking him in the chest with his finger. Lictor¡¯s backing away, stumbling over the couches and the table while Mandollel keeps chasing him around.

    ¡±Well, sorry,¡± Rworg mutters, and walks in. This is the part where he¡¯s going to start peeling Mandollel and Lictor off from each other, I guess.

    ¡±I¡¯m back,¡± I say to Finna. It¡¯s not a very clever thing to say and she¡¯s already rolling her eyes, but I don¡¯t have time to get embarrassed. I lean close to her. ¡±Lictor has a gem in his pocket! You gotta swipe it off him!¡± I hiss.

    Finna pinches the sides of her nose and closes her eyes.

    ¡±Let him talk us into the mission. He can¡¯t know we know, you know?¡±

    She lets go of her nose and rubs her eyes instead. ¡°Fine,¡± she says. She turns back to the tussle inside the room. Rworg has pushed between Lictor and Mandollel. Mandollel is swinging his arms, trying to grab hold of Lictor, but Rworg has a palm pressed on his chest, holding him away from the Janitor. Lictor has his hands raised, palms outward, trying to placate Mandollel.

    I wait, but Finna¡¯s not making a move. I guess it¡¯s fair that I handle this. ¡±Stop!¡± I shout.

    All three of the men turn to look at me. I hide my hands behind my back. Lictor can¡¯t see the thumbs as he¡¯d understand immediately what I¡¯ve been up to. Rworg has both hands full, keeping the two men apart from each other, and he has to crane his neck to look at me awkwardly from the corner of his eyes.

    ¡±I¡¯m sorry, it was all a misunderstanding! We were talking, and I said something stupid and it got a bit out of hand. I¡¯m sorry.¡± I bow low in apology to all of them, pressing my palms into my trousers. The bow might be a bit much, but I don¡¯t want to face Lictor when spouting such nonsense.

    I hazard a peek. Lictor¡¯s hands are still raised before him, but he edges out from behind them to look at Mandollel. ¡±It¡¯s true. I swear it,¡± he says.

    Mandollel rips himself off from Rworg¡¯s grip and turns his back to Lictor. He crosses his arms over his chest and presses his chin down. It looks like he¡¯s sulking or seething, but I can see him holding back a smile. He straightens up and lets out a long breath.

    There¡¯s a long pause. I can see Lictor holding his breath.

    ¡±I apologize for my outburst,¡± Mandollel says. He bows the slightest of bows to Lictor and reaches to correct his cloak that has been spun halfway around Lictor¡¯s body.

    Lictor tenses but lets him help him. He pats his overalls down to smooth them. ¡±Ahem, well, let¡¯s get back to business, then?¡±

    The rest of the briefing goes without incidents. Finna takes it easy, lounging on the sofa. She scowls the whole time, but I guess it would be suspicious if she didn¡¯t. I¡¯m not sure how much she trusts me, but I¡¯m getting a feeling that more than I thought. Maybe she has met me before. It¡¯s hard to know, here.

    Lictor waves his hands around and talks to us about the importance of the mission. Rworg listens, mouth drawn into a thin line. Mandollel does as well, but I catch him glancing at me and Finna every once in a while.

    Lictor is the only one in the room who doesn¡¯t know that something is up. Well, Rworg too, but I¡¯m not sure if he counts. So far I haven¡¯t heard him speak more than maybe five words at a time. Keeping track of everything is getting harder and harder. He¡¯s seen me for the first time. I¡¯ve seen him multiple times, but it¡¯s all bleeding together. So much has happened between the time I originally met him and where we¡¯re at now. At least he¡¯s not covered in blood at the moment.

    Finna¡¯s not making any moves. She grunts and pouts at Lictor¡¯s explanations and changes from lounge to slouch and back again, cleans her dirty fingernails with a dagger she pulls out from somewhere. I know she can¡¯t just march up to him and put her hand into his pocket, but can¡¯t she at least stalk him a bit?

    Lictor¡¯s still talking about the importance of halting the Kerthar advance, focusing on Mandollel and talking animatedly at him. The elf must be the one who has most doubts about the mission. I bet Lictor has prepared the speech in advance to persuade him. I zone him out.

    My mind wanders back to Lille and the time we were hunting a boar. I wanted to chase after it the moment I saw the tracks, but she held me back. We spent a whole day following tracks, trying not to step on its droppings and Lille lecturing me about what you could learn from the animal by inspecting the spoor or scat. I¡¯m still not sure why you need three different words to call what boars leave behind after eating, but once we found the animal, I was happy we were prepared. Even still, I¡¯m not going to follow Lictor into the toilet to inspect¡­ I wrench my thoughts away from the subject and try to look like I¡¯m paying attention.

    Finna will handle it. I¡¯ll have to trust her. I can try to help. I¡¯ll get Lictor¡¯s attention at some point. I don¡¯t know anything about picking pockets. Does she need to sneak up to him from behind?

    Rworg clears his throat. The sound is like a landslide. ¡°Enough. We are in agreement. Yes?¡±

    I glance at Finna. She pouts less than usual. We both nod at the same time.

    </section>

 Chapter 26 - The Mission Begins

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    They take away my old backpack. I¡¯ve had it for years and I know it was saggy and worn thin. I still would have liked to keep it. Still, the new one I get is the finest I¡¯ve seen. The leather has a fine, dull sheen and a creamy smell of beeswax. It¡¯s also full of maps and provisions and everything we¡¯ll need to survive out in the wilds.

    Inspecting the gear while hiding the thumbs from Lictor is nerve-wracking, but surprisingly easy. It seems like this is something he has seen too many times to pay attention to. He¡¯s reciting the final instructions with his gaze fixed on a single pebble that has somehow found its way onto the otherwise clean floor of the room.

    The hunting tools in my pack are better than any I¡¯ve seen. Part of the reason I¡¯m included is that I¡¯m supposed to get us more food on the road. I don¡¯t know much about the animals in Kerthar, but Lictor says they are all the same everywhere. I have a strong suspicion he doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s talking about. I¡¯ll manage, nonetheless.

    Lictor is walking ahead with Rworg and Mandollel between Finna and me. He cranes his neck to keep the pebble in his sight until we round the corner. ¡°This ceremony is an important formality for the city.¡±

    Finna is walking with both hands in her pockets. She hasn¡¯t made a single attempt at getting close to Lictor and I¡¯m getting more and more anxious the closer we get to the time we¡¯re supposed to be leaving.

    I try to touch her shoulder, but she slaps my hand away and glares at me. I almost raise my hands in apology, but realize what I¡¯m doing and shove them tightly in my pockets before anyone notices the thumbs.

    ¡°The council and many important guests are in attendance, so be on your best behavior. You don¡¯t need to do anything except to listen to some short speeches and then you¡¯ll get to be on your way.¡±

    ¡°How many speeches?¡± Finna asks.

    ¡°How short?¡± Rworg asks.

    ¡°You need to be gone in fifteen minutes. That means you¡¯ll unfortunately end up missing some of the later ones.¡± His face holds its usual impassiveness before he cracks a sad smile. ¡°Equally unfortunately, I won¡¯t.¡±

    Mandollel acknowledges the joke with a small laugh. I¡¯m too worried about Finna and the Gem and just walk forward, hands buried deep in my pockets.

    Lictor marches us to the Ride Hall, where a large crowd has gathered to watch us leave. I recognize Marek¡¯s astoundingly tall hat from the crowd, and the sight makes me want to run away.

    ¡°To the stage,¡± Lictor says, stopping to let us pass. ¡°Look dignified and be ready to go when it¡¯s time.¡±

    The stage has been brought in since I was last here. There¡¯s a podium to one side and three steps up to the stage. Rworg ignores them and stomps his foot directly onto the stage, pushing himself up with a grunt. His sword is strapped to his back. He needs help putting it back on every time he draws it, but I guess it¡¯s the only way to carry such a large weapon.

    Mandollel takes the steps, but stops with one leg on the second step and one on the stage, turning his head to look at the gathered crowd. He has one hand on his knee and the other on the hilt of his belt. He actually throws his head so his hair flies off from his face. He lifts an eyebrow and someone sighs wistfully in the audience. I groan and take a final look around before climbing the stairs. Lictor is waiting behind me. He shakes his head at Mandollel and winks at me, and that¡¯s when Finna¡¯s hand slips out from his pocket.

    I wrench my eyes toward the stage and start climbing the stairs before I give anything away. My body goes numb and my lungs feel like they¡¯re being hugged by something. I want to scream and pump my fist into the air but concentrate on not stumbling on the steps and keeping my face level. I must look like I¡¯m painfully nervous, my eyes cast down and hands pressed into fists at the side of my trousers. That¡¯s fine. Everyone will think I¡¯m some overwhelmed village boy, which isn¡¯t too far from the truth.

    The speeches are short, but there are quite a few to go through. The book-reading stocky merchant brings a greeting from all the merchants of the city, except Astaroth. Astaroth grins at that from the crowd and Corum squeezes her eyes shut and takes a long, drawn-out breath. She herself talks next, on behalf of the council. She speaks beautifully about our mission and how we¡¯ll be saving an uncountable amount of lives. Lictor¡¯s smiling at the foot of the stage. It seems like a huge risk to lie to us about the mission and then make us listen to speeches about it, but there is no such thing as a risk, not to a Janitor. He knows that the speeches won¡¯t have anything that would make us realize anything we¡¯re not supposed to realize.

    Finally, Marek himself climbs to the stage. He towers over us in his hat, his eyes darting from one to the other. I tell myself he can¡¯t know anything and that we¡¯ve never met, but his eyes bore into me even as they flick past. Sweat moistens my collar and I clench my fists in my pockets to keep them from shaking.

    Marek leans both hands on the podium. ¡°We give and take away so much, from ourselves and from the world. Today is the last day of history. There¡¯s absence in our future that compels us to rebuild and adapt to a world without things we have taken for granted: teleportation, friends, neighbors. I salute you four, who will shoulder this burden for all of us. Whatever choices you have to make on the road, know that we will support you.¡±

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Lictor¡¯s smile widens. He¡¯s looking at Marek and his eye twitches in a wink, interrupted at the last moment.

    It hits me: they are going to blame killing the Kertharians on us! Marek is hedging the opinion and Lictor is in on it. I clench my jaw so hard the sound that my teeth make causes Finna to give me a look. I thought nothing would surprise me anymore, but their plans always go deeper. Still, a look at Finna¡¯s pocket helps me unclench my jaw.

    The joke¡¯s going to be on them. Plan all you want, you haven¡¯t seen this yet.

    Marek finishes and bows to us. I fear he¡¯s going to tip over or poke one of us in the eye with his hat. The thought makes the moment feel less serious than what might be appropriate. The whole crowd follows his example and bows, even Lictor. He straightens up and places his weight on one foot, putting his hands in his pockets.

    Marek waves a hand at us and a soft glow illuminates us from below. A complicated circle of runes drawn below our feet on the stage shines blue. I watch Lictor¡¯s eyes bulge and his right hand go through his pocket faster and faster. He pulls out the pocket inside-out and my eyes fix on a piece of lint that goes flying out of it. Lictor starts to shout something, but at that moment the circle flashes and the world winks out.

    <hr>

    ¡°Nice,¡± Finna says. She gives me a quick thumbs up and taps the bridge of her nose. I¡¯m not sure what that means.

    We¡¯re at the same clearing where Lictor always took us. I raise my hand to wipe at the cobwebs, but stop. They are not there. I¡¯m getting the hang of this, just in time to never be teleported again.

    It¡¯s not much later than the first time we were here. The stars and the moon shine dimly, bright enough for me to recognize the familiar trees and moss-covered rocks.

    Mandollel straightens his bag and peers into the forest. ¡°We need to move. I don¡¯t know what you have been up to, but whatever it was, the Janitor noticed it. He might still come after us.¡±

    Beyond that, the forest is pitch black. The lights of the camp twinkle in the distance, somewhere behind the trees. Finna hasn¡¯t mentioned the Gem yet, so maybe it¡¯s best to follow her example. We can discuss the Gem later, but the attack on the village troubles me. ¡°What about the Kertharians?¡±

    Finna bites at the nail of her thumb. ¡°Huh?¡± Her eyes are fixed east, toward Kerthar.

    ¡°The camp?¡±

    ¡°The what?¡±

    I give up. The camp was never part of the plan. It was another way for Lictor to train me, get me used to the idea of Rides, and show me how the Kertharians are. What they will do, unless we stop them. He didn¡¯t even mention the camp this time around. I remind myself that this is not another time around. I¡¯m in the real world now. This is it. We¡¯ve got away with the Time Gem. Now we have to finish the mission.

    ¡°Enough daydreaming!¡± Mandollel says. He¡¯s waving his hand into the forest, at a small animal trail. He takes a couple of long strides and vanishes between the trees and into the dark.

    ¡°You next,¡± Finna says. ¡°I¡¯m last. I¡¯ll make sure the big guy doesn¡¯t get lost in the forest.¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± Rworg says. The sound echoes in the quiet forest and makes both of us flinch.

    Mandollel appears from the dark and glares at us, brow furrowed and mouth pressed thin. I grimace and sprint after him, the sound of Rworg stomping behind me.

    <hr>

    It¡¯s not as bad as the time we were running from the Kertharians. It¡¯s still dark and difficult, but Mandollel glows softly. He hasn¡¯t done that before, so it¡¯s something he did to help us follow him. He points out roots and stones on the path as he goes, making it easier to avoid them for the rest of us who can¡¯t see or glow in the dark.

    The shine vanishes and everything is pitch black. I nearly bump into his back. I wave a hand behind me, hoping the others notice it in time. Rworg manages to slow down, so he doesn¡¯t bowl right over us. He places a hand on my back to stabilize himself and I nearly get pushed into Mandollel by its sheer weight. Mandollel¡¯s holding back a hand, one finger pointing up, showing us to be quiet.

    I stop breathing and listen. There¡¯s a wheeze from somewhere ahead of us and a breeze brings over the stink of something rotting.

    ¡°You led us to it?¡± Finna hisses at Mandollel.

    ¡°To what?¡± he says. His glowing face looks confused, but then I see the realization hit. His mouth moves. There¡¯s no sound, but the curse is easy to lip-read.

    A soft thump sounds from the darkness, followed by a skittering, a bug running over bark, except huge. I know what it is. I hope I¡¯m wrong. I know I¡¯m not.

    Mandollel stays still, not turning, whispering. ¡°You know teratomes. What should we do?¡±

    Everything stands still. My mouth is dry and I lick my lips while trying to think. We¡¯re much too close. Teratomes can hunt by sight or sound or smell or all of them, so it¡¯s impossible to know if we should be staying quiet or making as much noise as possible, hiding or running. I¡¯m hoping this one is harmless. It¡¯s been known to happen.

    I make my decision. ¡±Back away, slowly. Try to be as quiet as possible.¡±

    Rworg instantly steps on a fallen branch. In the dark forest, the crack sounds like a boom and it lasts longer than feels possible. It keeps on going as he shifts his weight and keeps on going again as he removes his foot from it.

    All three of us are gesturing at him wildly, without a sound. Rworg opens his mouth to say something, but the motion stops and his gaze freezes. His hand moves slowly toward his back, to the hilt of his sword, his eyes fixed on something behind me.

    Branches snap. Something scrapes on bark, thumps, and Finna shouts a warning. I jump forward and roll, trying to avoid whatever is incoming from behind me.

    The teratome strikes the earth where I stood, the sound a thump and a crunch. As it lands, its spiny legs give out under its weight. Two of them twist and snap, crushed under its own body.

    The moonlight reflects off its shiny carapace, plates hanging on webbing, covering a mass of flesh squeezing out through the gaps in between. A stench of rotten meat washes over me in a wave. The thing has six legs like a bug, long, thin stalks of bone with multiple round fleshy joints, two of them now broken and twisted at unnatural angles. A huge arm-like thing sprouts from its front, a pillar of flesh and muscle, ending in a massive hand.

    I have enough time to feel hopeful when the teratome pushes itself up with its hand. Shorter legs unfold from its underside, a mass of small stalks. It wheezes once, but otherwise it doesn¡¯t screech or bellow or chitter. It has nothing to do it with. There¡¯s no head, only a mass of armored body like a slug.

    ¡±Watch out!¡± Mandollel shouts and pushes me to the side, as the teratome undulates and launches itself toward us.

    </section>

 Chapter 27 - Teratomes Are the Worst

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    Mandollel pushes me. He dodges to the side as the teratome crashes between us. I fall in the opposite direction. One of its bug legs nicks me in the waist as it goes past, but it¡¯s a scrape that doesn¡¯t penetrate my tunic. I carry the momentum and roll to get more distance. Old training kicks in, old lessons come to mind, and I curse.

    Even if the teratome isn¡¯t toxic, any wounds will at the very least get infected. I was lucky that time. I need to do better.

    I stand up from the damp moss and the scratchy shrubs. I take a moment to go through the parts of the teratome, considering my options. The armor plates have gaps between them, but the shot would be hard and there¡¯s no telling if there¡¯s anything important to hit there. There¡¯s one obvious target. ¡±Go for the arm!¡± I shout at the others.

    Rworg follows the teratome and swings his sword at it. The teratome launches itself backwards with its arm. Rworg¡¯s sword cuts through the air and branches and a whole sapling. The sapling falls onto the path where the teratome had been.

    We¡¯re safe if we can get away. It has to be rather slow over longer distances. The problem is the explosive speed at which it can launch itself in combat.

    The teratome lands on a large tree, snapping dry branches and making pinecones rain on the ground. It clings to the tree, upside down. The masses of short legs on its underside grab onto the tree, frontal arm pointing down toward the ground. The large bug legs twist to point and stab at Rworg. Their angle looks wrong, but the fleshy joints rotate freely. They aren¡¯t legs, after all, more like spikes used for attacking. Rworg backs away, sword swinging and swatting away the stabs. There are sparks when his sword catches the spikes, scraping and ringing against them.

    Mandollel appears from the side and swings up at one of the spikes with his shining sword. The cut is beautiful, striking the joint nearest to the thing¡¯s body. The sword cuts through the joint but gets stuck on a strand of something inside it. The strand stretches but doesn¡¯t get cut. Mandollel spins and pivots, freeing his sword and dancing back.

    The spike dangles on the strand, hanging and oozing clear liquid from the joint. Then the stump starts rotating wildly, yanking around the rest of the spike like a chain flail swung by a madman.

    Mandollel dodges a swing and barely manages to parry another. The spike swings around, clanging against the beast¡¯s own carapace and slicing off chunks of bark from the trees around it.

    ¡°Damn,¡± is all Mandollel says, backing away from the thing.

    ¡°That makes it even more dangerous!¡± Finna shouts. She¡¯s hanging back, stance low, daggers in hand.

    ¡°Could have warned me,¡± Mandollel mutters. He flicks his wrist, drawing an arc with his sword and snapping the liquid off it. Steam rises off the liquid and I retch as the smell wafts toward me.

    The teratome lets go of the tree and falls. It lands on the hand, which squeezes together like an accordion, before straightening with an explosive push. It bounces into the air with amazing force. It looks dumb, impossible¡ªdangerous. Rworg flings himself away, so he doesn¡¯t get crushed by its massive body as it crashes back down.

    ¡°The arm!¡± I shout again. We need to get that. It¡¯s unarmored, and any damage would hinder the teratome¡¯s movement. Even a teratome can¡¯t ignore the laws of nature. A cut muscle is a cut muscle, no matter how weird the rest of the physiology of the thing is. Getting rid of the arm probably won¡¯t kill it, at least not quickly, but we could run away if it can¡¯t bounce around like that.

    Mandollel moves to keep up with the monster. He¡¯s not on the path like the rest of us. Instead, he slides between the trees and over the underbrush, not tripping or bumping into anything. ¡°You say it like it¡¯s easy,¡± he says, and starts gesturing with his left hand, drawing runes that hang in the air.

    I grab my bow. I¡¯m getting used to the thumbs otherwise, but all my muscle memory is working against me when it comes to the bow. I have to think about every movement, adjust everything. My teeth are bared and clenched together, and a constant growl of frustration rises from my throat that I can¡¯t seem to stop. When I finally get the arrow nocked, Rworg is again standing between me and the teratome.

    I move back and sideways, trying to circle Rworg and get a clear shot to the beast. The path is narrow and there¡¯s not much space to work with. Stumbling into the underbrush and dodging trees in the dark is not an option, not for me.

    The teratome lies still after its jump, armor plates rising and falling like it¡¯s panting after doing something strenuous. Too soon, it pushes itself back on its mass of skittering legs and the longer spines begin their stabbing and swinging again. The two broken spikes are situated at the back of its body and, at the moment harmless, but they twitch in a way that makes my stomach churn. Approaching from behind might not be safe either.

    I consider warning Finna, who¡¯s standing behind the teratome. She hangs back, not getting close. Right, she has fought the thing earlier already. Good. I don¡¯t have to worry about her.

    Rworg doesn¡¯t seem too hard pressed to keep the spikes from hitting him. He swings his sword around in arcs that seem almost lazy, which yet always deflect the stabs. He has to keep backpedaling, though, as the teratome is huge and keeps advancing at him.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    The frontal arm is dangling in front of the beast, getting dragged forward under its body. I wonder if it¡¯s used only for movement or if it could also attack with it. I don¡¯t even want to imagine what would happen to anyone getting punched by that thing. My arms are straining from keeping the bow nocked for too long.

    Rworg cuts at the teratome and takes a step to the side. He¡¯s right next to the monster, but he¡¯s on his back-foot, leaning away from it. Exactly like Bann was. I let go. The string twangs. The arrow thwacks into the teratome¡¯s arm. Rworg gives me a look, but he had his weight on his heel. It still probably felt pretty scary for him.

    For a good reason¡ªmy shot is still not great. I caught the outer edge of the arm, but at least I caught it. The arm flops to the side from the force of the hit. The beast still makes no sound.

    Then it rushes to the side, still facing Rworg. The frontal legs keep swinging at him, but it skitters sideways toward me faster than I thought it could. The dozens of legs below its body pump and work like a sped-up dance.

    A flash illuminates the approaching beast from the side and bright darts of light slam into the teratome. The armor plates glint. The wet flesh gleams as it flexes and balloons between the plates. The darts are exactly like the ones Lictor shot at Corum, but there are a dozen instead of hundreds. Still, each punches a hole into the armor and the ones that hit exposed flesh sizzle and blow out chunks of meat.

    Mandollel stands between the trees with his hand reached out to the teratome. His smile falls away as the beast doesn¡¯t even slow down. That at least confirms the arm is the vital spot. The teratome cares more about the glancing arrow than any of the darts hitting its main body.

    It keeps rushing toward me. The arrow bends and snaps in half as the muscles of the arm flex and uncoil. The arm swings at me. I duck backwards, feeling the wind of its swing. Rotten stench wafts over me. The arm hits a tree. Roots snap and pull out of the ground as the whole tree vibrates from the blow. Dry needles and small dead branches fall from above.

    Finna has been circling the action and now dives forward with her daggers. The moment her feet land near the teratome, the bony spikes jab toward her. The teratome itself doesn¡¯t seem to care, still moving after me. The spikes seemingly act by themselves. Finna halts outside of their reach. She thinks for a second and throws one of her daggers between the swinging legs. She hits the arm, but the blade only manages to nick the thick, rubbery skin. The dagger lands in the bushes somewhere between us.

    The nick is enough to redirect the monster. It halts and turns away. I breathe out as the swinging arm is no longer coming after me, but freeze as the beast¡¯s movement brings its rear spikes near. One of the broken spikes nearly touches my boot as it gets dragged behind the beast. The other spikes are twitching toward where Finna was, instead of swinging at me. I stay still like a statue and let the monster move away from me.

    Once it¡¯s far enough that I feel safe, I jump backwards. The broken rear spikes instantly start flailing, but I¡¯m far enough and they only cut gashes into the nearby trees. ¡°It senses vibrations!¡± I shout at the others. ¡°Or something!¡±

    I¡¯m not sure how much help the information will be. There¡¯s no way to keep still when the teratome is coming right at you. Finna jumps to the side to avoid getting bulldozed by its advance. At least it can¡¯t use the arm to jump itself forward.

    I finally have a moment to breathe and piece together what I¡¯ve seen so far. I smile. This might be easier than it first seemed. The teratome isn¡¯t one of the intelligent ones. Nothing but instincts and urges.

    ¡°It¡¯s dumb!¡± I shout.

    Mandollel gives me a look.

    I groan. I¡¯m not used to leading. I try to imagine how Lille would do it, what she would say. ¡°It keeps going after who attacks the arm and swings blindly at whatever else is nearby! We can lead it around!¡±

    I breathe in. It was a lot to shout when already short of breath and on the edge. I nock another arrow. At least I get it on one try this time. With practice, the extra thumbs might even turn out to be useful, but at the moment, they are still getting in the way and making everything harder. ¡°Get me a shot at the arm!¡±

    Finna has kept backing away, but now dives and rolls to the side. The moment she lands on the ground, the legs snap toward her, but she bounces like a dancer, tapping the ground before being in the air again, almost like she¡¯s floating. The people on this team really are something, have to give it to Lictor.

    The beast follows her and I get my shot. The arrow whistles through the air and ricochets off one of the armor plates. I go for the next arrow. Can¡¯t let it get to me, just try again. It¡¯s been years since I¡¯ve missed so many shots. Some of the teratome¡¯s legs twitch and swat at the air between me and it, but that¡¯s all the reaction the shot causes.

    Rworg has no way to get in front of the thing. He yells at it from behind in his guttural language, but that¡¯s all he can do at the moment. Mandollel is casting another spell, letting Finna keep the beast occupied. It¡¯s not fast with forward movement, so she can keep out of its way easily enough.

    The path they are on veers to the side. I want to take time to aim but the teratome pivots after Finna. I don¡¯t have a line of sight to the arm anymore, but maybe I can still get its attention. I breathe out and aim at the exposed flesh between the armor plates, at the root of one of the broken back spikes. The arrow strikes true, burying itself nearly completely into the beast. The wound spurts clear liquid and the spike jerks and drops down, unmoving.

    The teratome freezes for a moment and its front half lowers down toward the ground. Damaging the root of the spikes seems to be effective, even if striking the joints¡ª

    ¡°Watch out!¡± Finna shouts from behind the teratome.

    It pushes itself off the ground, too fast. I fling myself to the side, too late. Its rear half smashes me aside. As I land on my back, two of its spikes stab and punch through my stomach. I hear the sound more clearly than feel it, the squelch and the tearing sound as it pulls the spikes back, my blood spurting out and painting its carapace dark.

    I roll to my side, bleeding. The ground is cold against my face, everything is cold. This is not how everything was supposed to go.

    My thoughts go back to Ral and how his stomach was fixed by ambrosia. My vision dims, the teratome rears up, its arm hovering above my head.

    I refuse!

    I wrench myself up and to the side, the pain finally registering in my stomach. I don¡¯t care.

    The teratome crashes down where I was.

    If I can only get a bit further away, it will focus on the others.

    I dodge down, somersault and land on my knees, back toward the teratome. Spikes punch out through my chest and shoulder and throat. Ground ahead of me is sprayed red. I don¡¯t feel anything except a blinding pain in my throat.

    My head lurches forward, showing me the bloody spikes. I slide slowly down on them, my vision dimming.

    Only thing left is the smell of iron.

    I¡­ refu¡­

    </section>

 Chapter 28 - Funeral

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    The glow of the pyramid fades. Lictor releases my wrist.

    I lick my lips. I touch my chest. There¡¯s nothing there. The light is blue and bright. The air dry, odorless. Compared to the smell of blood, it¡¯s quite nice.

    I blink. Lick my lips.

    ¡°What?¡± I blurt out.

    ¡°Hm?¡± Lictor says. He¡¯s deep in thought, frowning, rubbing his head. Everything around his eyes is tense and his nose is wrinkled, so he looks more like a pig than ever.

    ¡°I died.¡±

    Coming out of a Ride feels the same as always. There¡¯s only an idle memory of the things that happened. Even the immeasurable depth of anger, frustration, and helplessness that I felt right at the end doesn¡¯t reach me. The more pressing concern is that I¡¯d like to have a cloak or put on another shirt as the hall is a bit cold.

    Lictor doesn¡¯t react at first. He paces around in a tight circle, hand in his pocket. ¡°Oh, too bad. I mean, good, actually. Grabbing an extra paid off.¡±

    The knowledge of what happened is sinking in and my cheeks flush with anger. ¡°But we weren¡¯t on a Ride! You said we weren¡¯t!¡±

    He¡¯s not listening. He¡¯s biting the inside of his cheek, turning something over in his pocket. The Time Gem, I now know. ¡°I need to check something,¡± he says and reaches toward the pyramid.

    I grab hold of his cloak and yank on it, pulling him away from the artifact. He makes a small choking noise as the cloak tightens around his neck.

    Lictor rubs his hand on his neck and turns to me. He looks surprised, confused by what happened.

    ¡°How were we on a Ride?¡± I shout at him. I¡¯m off-balance, running on instinct. Yet I know I can¡¯t let him touch the pyramid.

    ¡°Why? What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°You lied to me! And how?¡±

    Lictor mumbles something in response and moves again toward the pyramid, but I push closer, squeezing between him and the artifact.

    I jab my finger at his chest. ¡°I counted! We should have been back in the real world already!¡±

    It works surprisingly well. Lictor backpedals to keep me from pushing my face against his. ¡°Wait, Locke, wait!¡±

    ¡°You better have a good explanation.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, please. I decided it would be prudent to have a chance to try everything out once, like it would be the real thing. Aren¡¯t you happy I did?¡±

    I stop my hand mid-poke. I can¡¯t really argue against that. ¡°But how? When?¡±

    ¡°Before I took you back to your village for a visit. I put you to sleep and thought I could bank one extra Ride.¡± He¡¯s holding both palms up, speaking in a soothing tone. ¡°Locke, I saved your life. Whatever happened, you now have a chance to do it right this time!¡±

    I breathe in. I wish there was time to make a plan, but there isn¡¯t. I have to keep him talking for now. ¡°We ran into a teratome. It¡­ got me.¡±

    That seems to surprise him. He looks at his fingers, counting up. ¡°Finna should know about it, Mandollel usually notices it in time, and even when he doesn¡¯t, you manage to kill it. I didn¡¯t consider it worth mentioning. What happened this time?¡±

    ¡°We got unlucky, I guess.¡± I haven¡¯t messed up that many shots in years. I open my palm to look at it and realize the extra thumbs are gone. They are gone!

    ¡°You look happy about it. Starting to see it my way?¡±

    I hold back the grin and focus. ¡°I guess so. I guess you are right. This time I¡¯m certain we¡¯ll get it!¡±

    Lictor pats my shoulder and smiles. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit. Avoid the thing this time. Remind Mandollel to be careful.¡±

    I grab his sleeve and start dragging him toward the door. ¡°Yeah! Well, let¡¯s get going!¡±

    ¡°I need to sort out something too,¡± he says, trying to shake me off his sleeve. ¡°Just go ahead. I¡¯ll come right after you.¡±

    I grab on tighter. If he manages to touch the artifact, he¡¯s unbeatable. Even Corum and Marek said there¡¯s nothing anyone can do against a Janitor. At the moment he¡¯s just a guy, but if he manages to touch the artifact, he¡¯s War Janitor Lictor again. He¡¯ll find out everything, foil every plan, win every fight. ¡°Wait!¡±

    The smile freezes on his lips and he turns to me.

    I break out in a cold sweat. He can¡¯t know what happened or who did it. Not for certain. There was the scuffle during the briefing and then at the last minute he noticed the Gem was missing from his pocket, but that should be everything he knows. My throat feels dry. ¡°What is it that you¡¯re trying to find out? Maybe I can help,¡± I croak.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    He looks at me for a moment. My throat keeps getting drier. ¡°It¡¯s not your problem, Locke. Rest for a while.¡±

    I spot movement at the corner of my eye and dodge to the side. Lictor¡¯s hand snaps up and reaches for my head, but misses, the blue glow around it flashing into nothing. I use the backward step and bounce to gain momentum. I kick him squarely in the stomach, pushing into my heel through the kick, putting all of my weight behind it. It doesn¡¯t feel like kicking a person. More like kicking a large sack filled to the brim with grain. He stumbles back a step, I stumble back two.

    ¡°This is pointless,¡± he mutters, fingers moving and raising his palm at me.

    I dive diagonally toward him and the blast of air misses me. My clothes and hair whip around and dust gets kicked up into the air all the way to the edge of the hall. The whole hall thrums as the blast hits the wall. He can be a mage and a Janitor, but up close he can¡¯t keep up with me. I sweep at his legs. He¡¯s fortified somehow, so I put everything I have into the kick.

    Maybe his legs don¡¯t feel the kick as hard as someone else¡¯s would have, but they swing high into the air. His hands are spread wide, and he falls his whole height onto the floor, landing on his back. A normal person would have the wind knocked out of them and be out of the fight for sure, but he rolls to his side and starts to push himself up.

    I jump on top of him, pinning him down under me. He slumps down as I land on him and now I hear the familiar wheeze of someone having air pressed out of their lungs. ¡°Lictor! Wait! Please!¡±

    ¡°Get off me,¡± he pants.

    ¡°I will, but listen to me. Promise?¡±

    He¡¯s quiet, breathing and catching his breath. I can see one of his hands and it¡¯s not casting anything at the moment. His other hand is pinned between his body and the floor, so I hope he can¡¯t do anything with it either. Not without blowing himself up as well, and this is the real world. I have no way to really know that, but if this isn¡¯t, then it doesn¡¯t matter so much, anyway. Now that I had that thought, I¡¯ll keep thinking about it for the next 24 hours.

    Rides are the worst. Almost as bad as teratomes.

    ¡°Fine. I promise. You know I wouldn¡¯t hurt you? You¡¯re too important.¡±

    I¡¯m not so certain, but I start to rise up. He¡¯s right in that continuing the fight would be pointless. He¡¯s a Janitor. He could kill me at any moment if he really wanted. I have my knife on my belt. Still crouched on top of him, maybe I could kill him too if I went for it in earnest. Mandollel did. Still, where would that leave me? This isn¡¯t a Ride, and I¡¯d have to explain a dead Janitor to everyone.

    I grab Lictor¡¯s arm and help pull him up. He takes a big breath and wipes at the dusty bootprint on his overalls. ¡°Everyone on this team is such a hassle,¡± he mutters.

    ¡°I know about the conspiracy, or whatever it is. You¡¯re trying¡ª¡°

    An invisible force blasts into me, lifting me off my feet. I¡¯m pinned on the wall, legs dangling above the ground.

    Lictor walks closer, one palm raised at me. He bites his lower lip. ¡°Locke, this is too important. I honestly don¡¯t like what we¡¯re doing, but I have seen it. I have watched them kill people over and over again. Nothing even makes them hesitate. Nothing!¡±

    He keeps walking. Each step pushes me further up on the wall, the pressure increasing. I have to focus to be able to breathe as my lungs feel pressed flat.

    He closes his eyes and rubs his eyelids with his other hand. ¡°Do you know how it feels to watch the same village burn dozens of times? It will happen everywhere. Killing them is the only way to be sure it won¡¯t happen again.¡±

    ¡°What won¡¯t?¡± I manage to croak.

    ¡°What?¡±

    The pressure diminishes a little, letting me talk more freely. ¡°What won¡¯t happen again? How can you be sure it won¡¯t? You don¡¯t even know why they are attacking!¡±

    He looks away at that, not facing my gaze. ¡°We have tried so hard to find out. It¡¯s out of my hands. This is over. I¡¯m making sure you¡¯re going on that mission and that the Gem won¡¯t go with you. It¡¯s us or them.¡±

    ¡°It can be us and them! Just there, I considered killing you but didn¡¯t! Maybe it would have solved my problem, but¡ª¡±

    He snorts, interrupting me. ¡°Only a kid can think like that. Besides, there are very few who can kill a Janitor.¡± He turns away, still holding his palm up.

    ¡°I¡¯ve done it.¡±

    That makes him stop. He turns back, looking incredulous. Hurt? ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you can take blows and have your bubble against magic, but back there I could have wrapped my arms around your neck and squeezed until you stopped moving. I got close, that¡¯s enough.¡±

    He pushes his palm toward me and the force crushes me to the wall. Air is pressed out from my mouth and nose as he walks closer. ¡°You¡¯ve been going on Rides without me? Strangling and leaving my corpses lying around the city?¡±

    ¡°I was¡­ trying¡­¡±

    He gets a hold of himself and pulls his hand away. The force disappears completely and I drop down. I try to lean on the wall, but my heels are pressed into it and I can¡¯t. I stumble forward. Lictor takes a step back to keep the distance between us. I¡¯m in no shape to start wrestling with him immediately, but I guess he believed me when I said I know how to kill him. As if I would. ¡°I tried to find out the truth about the mission. My point is that killing you would be wrong! Even if killing all the Kertharians is infinitely worse.¡±

    He steps away one more step.

    ¡°I can¡¯t know what you¡¯ve seen. Maybe postponing the problem for thirty years only delays the inevitable. But at least there¡¯s a chance then to help them. The war faction is only interested in¡ª¡°

    Lictor spins around and steps toward me. ¡°The what is interested?¡±

    The intensity of his gaze makes me press my back against the wall. It¡¯s almost like the earlier force has returned. ¡°Lombarte and his people!¡± I can¡¯t remember the Ponytail Guy¡¯s whole name anymore, but Lictor probably knows about him. ¡°They are planning to expand into Kerthar already. Making plans about building houses for their people.¡±

    I¡¯m guessing, bluffing, but if Lictor doesn¡¯t know about them, that means someone has kept him in the dark exactly like he has kept me.

    He sucks on his teeth, nostrils flaring right next to my face. ¡°You have been busy, haven¡¯t you?¡± he says after a while.

    ¡°I went to the council chambers and talked to Marek and Corum. He¡¯s playing you.¡±

    ¡°He couldn¡¯t. You don¡¯t play a Janitor.¡°

    ¡°He¡¯s the archwizard! You think you¡¯re smarter than him because you can try things multiple times?¡± I shiver as I remember Marek¡¯s eyes and I let the shiver show. Maybe it¡¯ll help sell the bluff.

    The hall is silent.

    Dust kicked up by Lictor¡¯s blasts hangs in the air, settling slowly. Its smell thick, covering the ozone of the magic itself. Lictor stands up and I take a breath, finally. He puts one hand in his pocket and turns the Gem around in it, rubbing his chin with his other hand.

    I stay still, letting him think. If I move a muscle, it might nudge him in the wrong direction.

    He grunts and shakes his head. ¡°No. Even if you¡¯re right, it¡¯s too risky. Us. Not them.¡±

    </section>

 Chapter 29 - Good Work Never goes Unpunished

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    Lictor turns around toward the pyramid. I consider rushing him, but don¡¯t dare. He¡¯s too powerful. I¡¯m only alive because he¡¯s holding back, deciding not to hurt me for real. I can¡¯t depend on that continuing. Next time I attack him, he¡¯s going to mess me up. Probably not enough to kill me, but maybe something like what Corum did to Mandollel. It looked real unpleasant.

    I watch him take the first step and try something else. ¡°Lictor, I understand.¡±

    He hesitates for a step, but keeps walking. I walk behind him. Not close enough or fast enough that he¡¯d think I¡¯m attacking him, but keeping my options open.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have needed to lie to us, though. We would have listened.¡°

    He barks a laugh and stops to look at me. ¡°I did need to. You didn¡¯t.¡± He swings back toward the pyramid.

    I nearly reach out to grab his shoulder, but decide against it. ¡°Well, maybe you are right. But how are you going to explain it once everyone learns what happened? That you just forgot to give us the Gem?¡±

    He chuckles at that. ¡°It won¡¯t be too much of a problem. The war would have been infinitely worse.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t be a problem for you because you¡¯re going to pin it on us! I won¡¯t let it happen.¡±

    This time, he stops for real. I know I¡¯m pushing it, but he¡¯s getting pretty close to the middle of the hall. I¡¯m playing for time. As long as he hasn¡¯t reached the pyramid, there¡¯s some hope left.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be considered as a mishap. An honest mistake when using the device or a snap judgment made in the field. You will still be considered heroes, at least by those who know about the mission. Not many people will, which makes it even less relevant what anyone will think happened.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t go along with it. I¡¯ll tell Mandollel, he¡¯ll look at the device, we¡¯ll cause a scene at the ceremony!¡°

    ¡°Locke.¡± He steps toward me, and I fear I¡¯ve gone too far. He places both hands on my shoulders and looks at me. His eyes are tender and the hands on my shoulders warm. ¡°I believe you. You believe yourself, for now. I¡¯ve been through this multiple times. You¡¯ll see sense at the end. This is too important. You are too important. I can¡¯t hurt or kill you and you can¡¯t do anything that would force me to do so. I like you, respect you, but this is the way it will go. Trust me, I know.¡±

    He could just be saying that. I have no way of knowing if it¡¯s true. He looks so sincere, but he also promised to listen and then slammed me against the wall right after. ¡°There¡¯s always a choice,¡° I say as I notice something at the other end of the hall. ¡°There, um, is always, I mean, the whole day, we, we tried and did team exercises and learned stuff!¡± I¡¯m not even listening to what I¡¯m saying.

    She¡¯s there! The other Janitor. She¡¯s walking toward the artifact from the opposite end of the hall, not paying any attention to us. Like she¡¯s on a stroll. Is it a coincidence? Is anything, around here?

    Lictor shakes his head and smiles, interrupting me before my babbling turns too suspiciously incoherent.

    I¡¯m trying to hold his gaze, keep him focused on me, stop him from turning away. ¡°Wait! There¡¯s something you must know. Something I learned on one of my own Rides!¡±

    That gets his attention. He stops and turns fully back to me. ¡°What?¡±

    I lean closer. ¡°I know that I can¡¯t change your mind. But I won¡¯t need to.¡± I¡¯m speaking softly. Conspiratorially. Letting him in on something. ¡°I met other people on my Rides. Made friends. Someone who will be able to handle even you. She will blow this all up in your face.¡±

    ¡°She? Corum? She doesn¡¯t know anything.¡±

    I let the smile creep up on my face. ¡°Not Corum. I met her as well, but she¡¯s not who I¡¯m talking about. We have a system with her, and she¡¯s right there behind you.¡±

    His eyes flick to the side, but he doesn¡¯t turn to look. ¡°You¡¯re bluffing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve finally understood how things work here. She¡¯s standing right next to the pyramid, waiting for my signal. I¡¯ll call her and she¡¯ll touch it. Anything you will try, it won¡¯t work. Even if you manage to get on a Ride, go on a hundred Rides, you¡¯re late. She¡¯s already seen what you¡¯ll do once you¡¯re out. Anything you learned, she will use against¡ª¡°

    His teeth grind together so hard the sound makes me stop talking. He opens and clenches his fists. I don¡¯t need to explain this to him. I¡¯m honestly far from understanding how anything works here, but for the one iron-clad fact: who goes on the Ride first, wins.

    I change my tone back to soothing. ¡°No one needs to know. We turn around and walk to the briefing room. I can steal the Gem from you or you can change your mind and give it to us, whichever way you want to play it. Whoever you want to keep happy. I¡¯d side with Corum, myself.¡±

    He glares at me, shoulders tense. He hesitates and turns his head to look behind him. The lady Janitor waves at us happily from the artifact. She looks like she hasn¡¯t got a care in the world. She has never been here before on any of the times we came through. Lictor¡¯s blast must have shaken the whole building, though. I said I understood how things work here, but it¡¯s obviously a lie. Still, I¡¯m just happy she¡¯s here now.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°All going according to plan?¡± she calls out to us.

    ¡°Yes!¡± we both say at the same time.

    Lictor¡¯s eyes go wide and flick back to me. He licks his lips and bites his lower lip. ¡°You understand that if this turns out to be the wrong decision, everyone¡¯s blood will be on your hands?¡±

    ¡°The point is that no one should have blood on their hands. Not even you.¡±

    We¡¯re hissing at each other, leaning our heads close. He lets out a fluttering breath and his nostrils flare.

    ¡°Lictor, I want to give them and us a chance. So does the council. Ends don¡¯t justify¡ª¡°

    ¡°I¡¯m getting lectured by a kid,¡± he says, leaning away from me. He groans and turns away. He sees the other Janitor standing next to the pyramid and groans again, turning back. Her face is relaxed. Like she¡¯s ready to stand next to the artifact as long as needed. ¡°Fine. Fine, fine, fine.¡± He puts his hand in his pockets and shoves something in my hands.

    I grab it and take a look at the Gem through my fingers. Even the glimpse makes me woozy. I¡¯m falling into my fist, eyes first. I press my eyes closed and shove the Gem into my pocket before I lose my balance. ¡°Which way do you want to play it?¡±

    ¡°No one will believe a Janitor getting outsmarted.¡± He states it like a fact, his face wrinkling before he smooths it out again. ¡°Oh well, serves me right for picking the right people for the team. Doing good work never goes unpunished.¡±

    I pat him on the back. I don¡¯t know what else to do.

    <hr>

    Lictor pushes open the door to the briefing room and starts talking right away. ¡°This is where we begin for real. No need for introductions this time. You¡¯ve all met each other enough times already. No point pretending.¡±

    Everyone is where they always are. Rworg on his sofa, Mandollel behind him, Finna opposite them both. Rworg startled when Lictor slammed the door open. He sits back down and seems to relax for the first time I¡¯ve seen him. Mandollel smiles and nods at me, like you greet an old friend.

    I stare at his face, jovial and welcoming. Even after all this, there are still layers of deception that Lictor has folded on top of each other. I shake off the thought and nod back to Mandollel, before he starts to wonder why I¡¯m hesitating.

    ¡°Finally,¡± Finna says, and tosses the mass of tangled hair off her face. For once I can see her eyes clearly, though they still glare at Lictor.

    ¡°You all think you know something about the mission, but that was to lay the groundwork. Try to forget everything I¡¯ve told you on previous meetings. This time I¡¯ll explain the whole mission, as it¡¯s actually planned to happen.¡±

    ¡°Does this mean you¡¯ve deceived¡ª¡± Rworg says.

    Finna turns her glare to Rworg. ¡°Of course it does.¡±

    I¡¯m standing behind Lictor, but sneak past him and go sit next to Finna. I get a glare as well. She doesn¡¯t yet know how much things have changed. I¡¯m so excited I nearly reach over to pat her on the back or even hug her, but come to my senses in time. I¡¯m not sure if this is the first time we¡¯ve met for real, so I decide to play it safe. She looks like she¡¯d bite me.

    Lictor waits for everyone to settle down. ¡°A lot has happened since we last talked.¡±

    Rworg frowns for a while, but then his eyes go wide. ¡°Ah, while we waited, you used the artifact to¡ª¡°

    ¡°Yes, yes, yes,¡± Lictor interrupts him. ¡°We trained with Locke and I introduced him to you three. You¡¯ve learned to work together beautifully.¡±

    Then he explains it all over again. The Kertharian mages taking part in the war, the teleportation attack this night, and the Etherthorn Weave. Mandollel is shocked by the revelation about teleportation and Lictor talks him down. I have to admit he does what he does well. I tap my foot and mouth the words as Rworg gets in his comment about their madness burning the world. Lictor explains everything, passionately, like he was doing it for the first time. Finna seethes for the whole time, waiting for Lictor to tell us about killing every Kertharian on the other side of the border. She keeps getting more tense next to me on the sofa and I¡¯m not sure if I should try to console her or wait it out.

    ¡°You have your guesses on what¡¯s going to happen to the Kertharians. We have barely hours before you go, so it¡¯s now safe to tell all of you: we¡¯re going to banish the Kertharians into the future. The device you¡¯re carrying leverages the elven Time Gem to¡ª¡°

    Lictor gets interrupted by Mandollel, Rworg and Finna snorting and shouting questions and groaning and rolling their eyes at the same time. He waves his hands around to silence everyone and points at me. ¡°Locke can confirm all this.¡±

    I squeeze the Gem into my fist in my pocket. I nearly lose my train of thought as I realize how natural it feels not to have extra thumbs anymore. I focus and try to look serious. ¡°It¡¯s true. I¡¯ve seen the original plans myself.¡±

    Finna snorts again. ¡°You¡¯re both full of¡ª¡°

    ¡°We¡¯re not!¡± Lictor says. ¡°Think about it. Tenorsbridge cripples itself by trapping the ether to save Kertharian lives! We could keep massacring every mage or squad that gets teleported over by using the Mountain Ride. We¡¯re buying time to save the Kertharians from themselves. Killing a whole nation would be the easy and quick solution, but the wrong one. Why would we deserve to live instead of them, if we did something even more monstrous than they are doing now?¡±

    I can¡¯t believe how full of spoor he is! I¡¯m so conflicted it feels like I have to flex to keep sitting still and not start running around and punching everyone around me. He has probably practiced this version of the speech as well. Or maybe he has had to listen to someone argue for saving the Kertharians a hundred times over, and is now repeating what they said. He believes every word he says. Even I can¡¯t avoid thinking so.

    Finna and Mandollel give each other a jubilant look. Even her mask breaks, the relief shining through the gruffness.

    Mandollel stands behind Rworg and pats him on the shoulder. He doesn¡¯t even seem to realize he¡¯s doing it. ¡°I was prepared for whatever was necessary, but this is welcome news.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t find this hard to believe, elf?¡± Rworg asks, eyeing the hand still patting on his shoulder.

    ¡°Elves play with time all the time anyway,¡± Finna cuts in. ¡°He¡¯s been boasting about that since he got here.¡±

    Mandollel¡¯s hand stops and he raises it toward the ceiling, following the gesture with his gaze. ¡°Once! Once I¡¯ve mentioned¡ª.¡±

    ¡°Enough, enough,¡± Lictor says. ¡°The device utilizes the Time Gem loaned to us. It feeds it with an enormous amount of mana. The mission is to follow a set of coordinates on the other side of the Kertharian border to calibrate the device and focus the effect. You have the plans and the route with you, so you can go over them once you¡¯re there.¡±

    The others rise up. It seems I¡¯m not going to get this explained to me in detail, but we¡¯ll have plenty of time on the road for that.

    Lictor slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up as well. ¡°Let¡¯s go. For just this once, let¡¯s not be late for the ceremony.¡±

    </section>

 Chapter 30 - Final Chapter of Volume 1 - Adventure Awaits

    <section style="page-break-after: always">

    While we¡¯re walking to the platform, I keep my eye on Lictor, in case he tries to go for a last minute Ride and somehow pull the rug from under us, but he makes no such move. I guess it would be too much of a risk, as Mandollel is walking next to him and Corum is in the room already as well. Using the artifact when extremely powerful and trigger-happy people are looking at you might make for a short trip.

    This time, we reach the platform before most of the crowd is in the hall. We climb the stairs and take our places. Lictor stays standing at the bottom of the stairs. He shakes each of our hand. Mandollel strikes another pose as he shakes his hand. Rworg¡¯s grip hides Lictor¡¯s hand completely and makes him squirm and grunt. Behind me, Finna chuckles.

    Lictor shakes my hand, too. I grip it warily, but on his face I see something like respect. He lets go of my hand and pats my shoulder. He moves almost like he might hug me, but then shakes his head with a lopsided smile and steps back. I climb the stairs, confused.

    Finna goes last. She does hug him. She bumps into Lictor, grips him, pushes her face against his chest. Lictor¡¯s brows shoot up, then his expression softens. He pats Finna on the back a couple of times and mutters something awkward. Finna lets go and runs up the stairs, face turned downward. She comes to stand next to me. I make sure to look everywhere but at her, concentrating on watching the familiar faces trickle in. Corum greets some important-looking wizards and ignores Astaroth completely as he comes in and wiggles his eyebrows at her.

    The other Janitor comes to stand next to the stage. I realize I still don¡¯t know her name. I peel off from the others and walk up to the side of the stage. Lictor gives me a worried look, which I ignore. Neither of us can try anything new at this point.

    I bow to her and crouch so I can talk to her at the same level. ¡°Janitor.¡±

    Her eyes crinkle as she smiles at me. ¡°Kid. Good luck on your mission.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I hesitate and purse my lips. What are you supposed to say in a situation like this? None of the things that happened for me, happened for her. She has no idea who I am. ¡°I¡­ truly mean it.¡±

    Her eyes squint even further. ¡°I never get a chance to talk properly to you, but I know enough to be around when it matters. Well done, Locke.¡±

    My mouth opens and I close it. I¡¯m messing this up even worse than I thought I would. ¡°Can I ask for your name?¡±

    ¡°Mona. Never managed to ask me before?¡±

    ¡°Well, for a long time, I thought it was Miranda.¡±

    She chuckles at that. She takes a step closer, leans into my face, and speaks in a low murmur that makes my face tingle and my stomach tighten. ¡°That¡¯s the code for this evening. I spend a lot of time taking care of the city. Having a system helps speed things up.¡±

    Now that I¡¯m this close, I can smell her skin. Nothing else. The merchants and wizards are milling about behind me. Lictor clears his throat.

    Mona smiles at me. ¡°Go on, the ceremony is about to begin.¡±

    I stand up and bow again, as low as I can manage. I turn around and Mandollel winks at me. Finna groans.

    Rworg nods with a serious look on his face. ¡°I approve. You have to reach to grasp. ¡±

    By the time I reach my place, my face must be bright red. I try to play it off by rolling my eyes at Rworg, but Mandollel keeps winking at me and the Janitor. She chuckles and winks back. Everyone still keeps doing that. It must be a city thing. It¡¯s infuriating.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    One of the guards is helping Marek make his way toward the stage. He has a confused look on his face as he dusts his hat, turning it around in his hands. The crowd falls silent as Corum clears her throat and gives the signal for the ceremony to begin.

    I have time to think about all the adventures I¡¯ve had while I wait for the blushing to recede. The speeches go on, but I tune them out. I do watch Astaroth¡¯s reaction to the stocky merchant¡¯s jab, because their whole schtick is still pretty funny. The real adventure is only now beginning. I¡¯ve died multiple times, uncovered conspiracies, met an archwizard and perhaps made some enemies. The thought of a 17-year-old hunter like me making an enemy of something like the war faction of Tenorsbridge makes me chuckle out loud. I try to mask it as a cough. The chuckle holds equal parts confusion, amusement and desperation. Maybe I¡¯ve made some friends too. Or will make, before all this is over.

    I¡¯m hit with a pang of homesickness. I never got to talk to Ral like he asked, such a long time ago. I saw Lille, but that was on a Ride and didn¡¯t end the way I would have liked it to. Finna might be right in that we¡¯re being sent on a suicide mission. I¡¯ve died enough times to know I really don¡¯t want to. I have to make it back home. I make a silent promise to get back alive, but I have no idea what¡¯s waiting for me over the border. The teratome should be easy to avoid, but what about everything else?

    Marek is already speaking. Not too long to go. It feels like the speeches are at least twice as long as the last time, even if the words are exactly the same. Mona¡¯s eyes are glassed over. She must have heard this so many more times than me that I¡¯m almost sorry for her. Lictor, on the other hand, seems animated. He licks his lips and looks straight at Marek before bowing at us with everyone else in the audience.

    I get a real bad feeling about everything, and put a hand in my pocket.

    There¡¯s nothing in there. The Gem is gone. The soft glow of the teleportation circle illuminates us from below. Lictor raises a finger and wags it at me. His other hand is moving toward his pocket as the world winks out again.

    <hr>

    ¡°¡ªAAA!¡±

    Rworg and Mandollel flinch away from me. The shout sounds distorted, rippling out from the ether.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Mandollel asks. He grabs me by the shoulders, face twisted in worry.

    ¡°We must stay quiet,¡± Rworg growls. His gaze circles the dark forest around us. It¡¯s the same one, again.

    I turn both of my pockets over and pull them out. Only a piece of lint drifts out. ¡°Lictor nicked it! He took the Gem back!¡±

    Mandollel releases his grip, panic on his face. ¡°The Time Gem is not in the device?¡±

    Rworg starts to shout something, but Finna kicks him from behind and the shout turns into a yelp. ¡°What?¡± he asks in a hurt and low voice.

    ¡°You said we need to be quiet,¡± she says, imitating Rworg¡¯s guttural way of pronouncing things.

    Mandollel turns to Finna, wrangling his hands together. ¡°You don¡¯t understand! The Time Gem is¡ª¡°

    ¡°It¡¯s right here,¡± she says, pulling out the Gem from her pocket.

    It¡¯s my turn. ¡°What!?¡±

    She shrugs. ¡°I saw Lictor nick it from you, so I nicked it back.¡±

    The Gem shines in her hand, reflecting what little light there is from the stars. It has a light of its own, somehow intensifying the starlight as it bounces around inside it, over and over again. The light is enough to cast shadows on Finna¡¯s face, but the shadows move in a way that feels wrong. Delayed or happening before they should, out of step with themselves. She closes the eye nearest to the Gem and turns her head away from it.

    Mandollel stares at the Gem, breathing in and out, grasping at words that don¡¯t seem to come to him. He turns away, drags his hands down his face, and spins around for a full circle.

    ¡°Nice,¡± Rworg says.

    Finna cocks her head sideways and blows a lock of hair away from her face. ¡°Can¡¯t let people get away with stealing.¡±

    Mandollel¡¯s hands are raised and all of his fingers twitch toward the Gem. ¡°We have taken care of that heirloom for a millennium¡ª¡°

    ¡°That¡¯s like two generations for you guys,¡± Finna says and tosses the Gem at Mandollel in a lazy arc.

    He catches it with both hands, closing his palms around the Gem as if it were a newly hatched chick.

    I chuckle at the whole show. They must have spent quite a while together. I¡¯m just starting out, but I think I can get along with these people. I better, as everything depends on us now.

    There¡¯s a war to stop. A mission to survive. If I want to see Lille or anyone again. I breathe out as Mandollel and Finna keep heckling each other. Rworg watches the dark forest, that I know is teeming with Kertharians and teratomes and who knows what.

    Time to go. Adventure awaits.

    </section>

 MC Name Change + Writathon Release Plan

    Ok, I said there was an embarrassing thing I had to admit.

    In my novel Grand Harvest</a>, there was such a cool side character that I wanted to write him into a story of his own. He was this middle-aged hunter, really competent, fun but wry, practical but with strong morals, matured like fine wine.

    So that was where I got the main character for Unfought Wars, Locke.

    Except his name wasn¡¯t Locke ?? I misremembered the name of my own character in true ¡°Maybe it was this? Probably, can¡¯t bother to check, lets write a whole book about him¡± fashion.

    Actually the character¡¯s name was Folke.

    I¡¯m going to retcon the name now since we¡¯re heading to the second volume. This will be confusing for everyone for a while and I¡¯m sorry about this, but I just can¡¯t keep supporting two names for the character depending on whether we¡¯re on RR or elsewhere.

    Secondly: I have published The Mountain Ride also as a book, so if you¡¯ve read the whole thing and enjoyed it, I would really, REALLY appreciate it if you could drop me a rating or review on Goodreads</a> or Amazon</a>! I¡¯m NOT going to stub anything here on RoyalRoad, as I want to share the whole series with you, but it would really help me justify the decision if you could help me out and drop some ratings or reviews outside of RoyalRoad for me.

    Stolen story; please report.

    Thirdly: the next volume will be released Monday through Friday. I¡¯ll take a break on weekends. This will both allow me to hit the Writathon goals and give me a bit of room to breathe. If you want to read ahead, Patreon will run seven chapters ahead of RR. Why seven? Because that¡¯s what I think I will be able to manage ?? Though, please take note that this is honestly going to be an actual challenge for me, so expect the quality of polish and proofreading to go down. When you spot something dumb, leave suggestions for me! ???¡á?

    As a thanks for reading this far, here¡¯s a full short story that I just unstubbed: The Academy Janitor.</a> The Academy is Velonea''s high powered school for necromancers, but the janitor is just a guy, trying to keep everything in working order while being heckled by zombies, faculty members with more than a few loose marbles and snow, so much snow.

    </a>

    The story has no relation to Unfought Wars, except it¡¯s also set in Velonea. Still, I promise it¡¯s quite fun ??

 Chapter 31 - Adventure Begins

    Here we are, in the middle of the clearing, again. Mandollel, Finna, Rworg, and me. The familiar unfamiliar trees surround me, the white rocks jut out from the ground. The smell of dirt and pines and moss hangs in the air.

    Somewhere on the other side of the border, the Kertharians are preparing to attack the nearest settlements and then all of Velonea.

    This time for real.

    ¡°Folke, help Finna get the Device out. I¡¯ll put the Gem back into its place,¡± Mandollel says. He cradles the Time Gem in his slender hands. Even in the darkening forest, his hair is light and almost seems to shine. He¡¯s taller than me and equally thin, but from the time he fell on me, I know he weighs a ton. I have no idea if it¡¯s an elven thing or if it¡¯s because he seems to be made of coiled steel springs, based on how strong he is and how he moves.

    I catch the backpack as Finna shrugs it off her. The whole adventure in Tenorsbridge, unveiling the conspiracy, stealing the Time Gem from Lictor, it was all preparation. I can¡¯t get distracted, lost in feeling homesick or worry about what awaits me once I¡¯m back.

    I unfasten the straps and pull out the Device. It sits heavy in my hands, thick plates of metal forming a sphere. Around it are more knobs and levers than I¡¯ve seen so far in my life put together. I set it on the ground and stand up.

    I¡¯ve promised everyone to be back. I¡¯ve died enough times to know I really don¡¯t want to. The Mountain Ride helped me get to the bottom of everything in Tenorsbridge, but now I¡¯m on my own. The real adventure begins now. The real danger.

    Finna pries off the plates. The Device yawns empty without its core, complicated insides laid bare. Mandollel is still transfixed with the Gem, his almond eyes staring into its depths and reflections. Rworg nudges him and he makes a soft sound. When he moves, it¡¯s like he¡¯s been sped up. His fingers are a blur as he sets the Gem back into its place in the Device. Maybe the Gem affects him. I have no idea what its powers are.

    With a final turn of his knife, the last screw locks the plate back in place, covering the Gem. Not having to watch the light play on and in it anymore is a relief. Not one of us could look away while the Gem was still visible.

    Mandollel slides it back into Finna¡¯s backpack and closes the straps. She is as disheveled as always. Her hair is equal parts thick, luxurious, and grimy. Her clothes look like they¡¯ve been picked off the gutter, full of patches and stains, but it¡¯s a show. They are well made, thick, flexible. Nothing on them that makes any kind of noise. She can move in them freely and the colors blend into the shadows of the forest. I have trouble keeping up with her, even when she¡¯s not trying to hide.

    Rworg adjusts his gear, tests the handle of his sword to make sure he can get it off his back if needed. The sword sits to one side of his back, both equally massive. The curved blade is nearly as long as me and even he can fit both of his huge hands on the hilt. I¡¯ve still seen him use it one-handed. The guy¡¯s stupidly strong. That¡¯s about as much as I know about him, really. He¡¯s from Kerthar, even further from the east than the people we¡¯ve fought so far.

    Mandollel peers into the forest. The motes of light in his eyes glow faintly in the gloom. ¡°We need to move. For once, we can do all this according to plan.¡±

    Rworg huffs and nods. Finna grunts. About what I¡¯d expect. Finna adjusts the bag on her back and grabs onto the straps, steadying herself.

    ¡°Wait, what about the camp?¡± I ask. ¡°Ah, right, you don¡¯t know about it.¡±

    Things will still be confusing for a while. We¡¯ve all been on our own personal Rides using the artifact, looping time or whatever it was that the thing did. We¡¯ll have time to go over everything on the road, but for now, we¡¯re still in the dark. During the last three hours or so, I¡¯ve lived the same day over twice, died maybe eight times, flown over the entire region, fought and lost and won against Kertharians and a teratomes.

    The most vivid memory is the image of the farm burnt by Kertharians. Anything experienced on a Ride doesn¡¯t really feel like much, but the burning house, the corpses, the utter senselessness of it all, haunts me.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°There¡¯s a Kertharian camp near here. They are planning an attack on a village. Tenorsbridge won¡¯t do anything about it.¡±

    ¡°I know of it,¡± Mandollel says. ¡°We can¡¯t risk the mission. You die every time we try attacking the camp.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s your plan that gets me killed every time.¡± Not that I¡¯m petty, or anything.

    Finna bites the nail of her thumb, the click-click of her teeth sounding loud in the dark. ¡°Of course they won¡¯t do anything about it. It¡¯s too close to our route.¡±

    I jerk my boot away as she spits a piece of nail toward my feet. ¡°Lictor said that they couldn¡¯t get it to work for some reason.¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± she says.

    ¡°How will the village weather the attack?¡± Rworg asks. When he speaks, the syllables are mangled, squeezed, and spat out.

    Mandollel answers. ¡°It won¡¯t.¡± He¡¯s looking into the forest like he can see through the darkness. He just might. Or then he doesn¡¯t want to face Rworg. ¡°Everyone will be killed. The Kertharians will continue further west, but we haven¡¯t seen what happens after that. The Rides don¡¯t reach that far. There¡¯s no telling where they will end up.¡±

    I take my bow from my back and ready it. Without the extra thumbs, it¡¯s so easy I almost forget what I wanted to say. ¡°I have practiced attacking the camp. I have a plan that works. We¡¯ve done it.¡±

    ¡°Too risky,¡± Mandollel says, shaking his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m with Peacock,¡± Finna says. ¡°This wasn¡¯t part of the deal.¡±

    The small, still hand peeking from under the corpse of the mother. The smell of burning flesh. ¡°They have a map that shows the positions of their camps on the other side of the border. We can use that information.¡±

    Rworg yanks the sword off his back. The fasteners snap open, letting the sword come loose. Putting it back will be much harder. ¡°No. Not because of maps. Because it is our duty.¡±

    Finna groans and bites at another nail. ¡°Forget it.¡±

    How did Lictor do it? I don¡¯t have his magnetic intensity, the unnatural certainty of knowing exactly what is going to happen. He took us here and made us attack the camp. Even Mandollel didn¡¯t question it.

    Finna did, though. I remind myself that she¡¯s still the hostile and dubious version that left the moment things didn¡¯t go like she expected. She¡¯s not going to have any nails left before we reach the border if she keeps that up. Her mouth is tense, but what is visible of her eyes tells me she¡¯s not as certain as she tries to sound.

    ¡°Finna, I¡¯ve seen what they do if we let them. They¡¯ll kill everyone, even babies!¡± The words catch in my throat as I realize how much I sound like Lictor. I force myself to continue. ¡°It doesn¡¯t justify killing all the Kertharians like he planned, but with this camp, it really is about protecting the innocents. We¡¯re all the protection they have.¡± There¡¯s no need to specify who he is. Not after everything.

    ¡°We¡¯re all the protection the whole of Velonea has. Folke, we can¡¯t risk it,¡± Mandollel says.

    I clench my fists. They are right. Of course they are. It¡¯s not like I want to go shoot arrows at mages and risk getting killed five minutes into the mission, now that we are finally here.

    My thoughts are cut short by the racket of Rworg pushing his way into the forest. ¡°I saw movement,¡± is all he says, snapping branches and trampling on the underbrush.

    ¡°You just want to go fight!¡± Finna shouts at his back, voice low but loud in the dark.

    He stops, sword glinting in the scattered moonlight. ¡°There are no excuses not to go. Protecting people is the mission.¡±

    Mandollel drags a hand through his hair and presses his palm on his brow. ¡°This is why we don¡¯t tell Rworg about the camp.¡±

    Everyone has their own collection of experiences. We¡¯ve all been trained separately, taken on multiple Rides. If I remember correctly, Rworg and Finna don¡¯t even know about camp. Mandollel obviously does, but he seems to know generally more about the big picture than the rest of us. Knowing what¡¯s going to happen is a huge advantage, but I still can¡¯t wait until I don¡¯t have to stitch together experiences and memories and keep straight what happened and what didn¡¯t.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure about this?¡± Finna asks me.

    When Lictor brought us here, she left without a second thought. With me, she¡¯s at least willing to listen. ¡°I¡¯m sure. I can¡¯t let them do this. I can¡¯t.¡±

    She rolls her eyes, like she does. Smacks her lips and pushes a hand into her mop of hair to scratch at her scalp. Finally, she throws the hair off her face. ¡°Alright, good enough for me. Let¡¯s do it.¡±

    Rworg made a show of leaving, but stopped to listen to the rest of the discussion. His teeth shine white against the black as he grins at us.

    Mandollel sighs, defeated. I cut him off before he manages to start speaking. ¡°We do it my way. Rworg goes first. We three approach from the side. I¡¯ll explain the details as we¡¯re getting closer. They¡¯ll attack anyone they see nearly straight away.¡±

    ¡°Straight away,¡± both Finna and Mandollel say. They look at each other and Mandollel shrugs. ¡°At least they did attack you,¡± he continues.

    That explains why I always got killed when he made the plan. I wonder if he used me as a decoy, but on second thought, I don¡¯t really want to know. ¡°They don¡¯t attack Rworg. They listen for a moment to what he has to say.¡±

    Rworg¡¯s face is blank, his voice steady. ¡°Must be because I¡¯m handsome.¡±

    ¡°That is actually interesting to hear,¡± Mandollel says. He rubs his chin and pouts, then turns toward the forest. Guess he¡¯s convinced as well.

    I still have my bow in my hand. I change my grip to make sure it won¡¯t get tangled up in anything as we start creeping closer to the camp.

    ¡°Not even a chuckle?¡± Rworg asks.

    Finna walks past him and pats him twice on the upper arm in consolation.

    It¡¯s about as high as she can reach.