“Shon, I would speak with you.” The dim green light on the opposite side of the dungeon pulsed slightly brighter as Gravine spoke, punctuating each word hauntingly.

“Hold on, let me check something first,” Shon said from his corner of the dungeon. He sat completely still with a neutral expression on his face, and paused a moment before speaking again. “Hmmm… Nope, looks like I still haven’t turned into an evil pile of rat droppings yet, so I’m still not interested in anything you have to say, O Great King of Creepiness.”

It was completely dark where Shon was sitting, and during the several hours he had been confined in the dungeon, he discovered that one positive aspect of being able to see anything was that he could picture himself however he wanted. In Shon’s mind, he pictured this exchange taking place with him sitting with a relaxed posture, with a look on his face that conveyed boredom and skepticism. From the scene in his mind, it would have been clear that Shon was thoroughly unimpressed with Gravine.

“I grow tired of your insolence,” Gravine replied, a tone of anger creeping into his high, hissing voice. “Thus far I have been patient with you because your skills are valuable to me and because you are too young and naïve to recognize how generous and noble my offers to you have been. But our time together is limited, and we may likely never get another chance to speak in private like this once Vdekshi discovers where I am.”

“Therefore,” Gravine continued, “in the consideration of urgency, I am willing to offer you a gift as an incentive for you to pay attention and cease your foolish defiance. In time I trust that you’ll realize just how incredibly generous of me this is. Most of those who serve me must show me the loyalty and obedience I expect for years before receiving any gift from me. This particular gift required significant sacrifice and subtlety on my part, so I expect more gratitude and less audacity from you in the future, Shon.”

Shon was about to reply with exactly the kind of audacity that Gravine had just alluded to, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, he heard a very faint shifting sound in front of him, as if a blanket had fallen to the floor in the middle of his cell. Shon walked forward and bent down to the floor to feel in the dark for whatever object had made the sound. When his fingers found it, he gasped.

“Now there’s the sound of someone who is starting to realize just how lucky he is,” said Gravine. The glow from the green crystal containing Gravine grew brighter until Shon saw what he had already felt. Its deep red coloring appeared nearly black in the green light, but there was still no mistaking it for Shon. It was his cloak. The cloak that his father had entrusted to Uncle Grodin until Shon was mature enough to go out into the world and discover his destiny. Shon’s fingers brushed over the emblem on the shoulder of the moon on fire. It was the emblem of Shon’s father, Alla Nen. A tear rolled down Shon’s cheek.

He wanted to fire off another snarky retort at Gravine, but he couldn’t find the words. When he had first woken up in the dungeon, the lack of his cloak had been a terrible shock, but then again, everything had been a terrible shock at that moment. And his encounter with Gravine had distracted him from fully processing the loss. Now that Shon saw it in front of him and held it in his hands again, the weight of it suddenly hit him.

The cloak meant so much to him, yet it had been taken away so easily. Shon still didn’t know who stole it, and he realized whoever it was, they could have hidden it away or even destroyed it, and he would’ve never known. As he held the cloak and once again felt the fabric woven with his father’s magic, the thought of losing it forever without knowing its fate terrified him. For a moment, it even seemed to him that death would be a better fate than a lifetime of not knowing.

“How did you get it?” Shon finally managed to ask. “And how did you get it in here? I thought you were trapped in that crystal.”

“That is unimportant,” Gravine replied with a satisfied tone. “What is important is understanding how valuable my gifts can be. And even more important is understanding that every gift I give comes at a price, and if my price isn’t met then I take back those gifts and then some.”

“No!” Shon shouted, clutching the cloak to his chest. He wanted to shout more. Something insulting or insulting. But now that Shon had something to lose, his bravery and bravado were evaporating quickly, and he found himself regretting his earlier attitude.

“Ah, so it seems I chose this gift well, did I?” The misty tendrils from the crystal containing Gravine began to snake their way over to Shon once again. “I assume there won’t be any more rude interruptions or snide comments then?”

Shon sat huddled on the floor of the dark dungeon, clinging to the cloak in his arms, and trying to fight the panic and anger that were clawing at his insides. He didn’t want to give Gravine the satisfaction of seeing Shon give in, but what else could he do? Shon quietly took a deep breath to steady himself, and then spoke in a tone that he hoped sounded calm and neutral. “So you’re saying the price of this gift is letting you speak and hearing you out?”

“Listening, paying attention, and showing me the respect someone like me deserves,” said Gravine. “That’s all I ask. For the moment.”

Shon chose his next words carefully. “In all honesty, I don’t know how you define the kind of respect that someone like you deserves. I’m not going to grovel or beg, and I’m not going to lie just to tell you what you want to hear. But I will apologize for how rude I was before, and I’ll promise to show you the kind of respect my Uncle Grodin taught me to show people. The kind of respect that everyone deserves.”

“My, how very… egalitarian your uncle sounds,” said Gravine. “Nevertheless, I suppose that will do for now.” One of the tendrils then pointed at Shon. “Oh, and you may put on my gift to you before we begin. I can tell by the way you’re fawning over it that you can hardly wait to try it on. Of course I can hardly blame you. My craftsmanship is always exceptional, and that’s one of the finest robes I’ve ever made.”

Shon froze. He didn’t know how much Gravine could see in the dark room, but it was clear the necromancer was capable of sensing more than Shon originally thought since he had commented on the way Shon was holding his father’s cloak. The cloak that Gravine had called a “robe,” and claimed that he had made. Perhaps Gravine could see more of the room than Shon had assumed, but perhaps he also knew less than Shon had first assumed.

Not wanting his expression to give anything away, Shon slowly turned his eyes to look again at the emblem on the shoulder of the cloak. Even in such dim lighting, there was no mistaking the image of the crescent moon surrounded by flames. It was the emblem of Alla Nen, Shon’s father. Uncle Grodin had told Shon that his dad put that image on everything he created, and even enchanted it to make sure nobody could copy it.

So it was obvious that Gravine was lying about creating it, but it wasn’t the lie that had surprised Shon. What surprised Shon was what the lie meant. It meant that Gravine didn’t realize what the cloak really was, who had made it, or that it already belonged to Shon. Because if Gravine had known any of that, then he would’ve realized how obvious his lie was to Shon. Perhaps the necromancer had simply sensed that the cloak was magical and valuable and supposed it would be just the thing to entice a young wizard like Shon.

All of these realizations raced through Shon’s mind in a matter of moments, and he knew he would need to think fast and act quickly if he didn’t want Gravine to catch on or become suspicious. He decided that lies took too long to come up with, and he had never been very good at crafting believable ones anyway. So for now he would stick to simply asking questions, and avoiding any outright lies unless absolutely necessary. He took a deep breath and got ready to relax his muscles into movement again.

Shon stood up and held the cloak by the shoulders, letting the rest of it unfurl to the floor. “Exceptional craftsmanship is an understatement,” said Shon. “But why give it to me? If this is one of the best treasures in your whole collection, why not give it to Vdekshi or wear it yourself?”

“Vdekshi wouldn’t appreciate a quality garment like this no matter how valuable it is,” Gravine said with derision dripping from his voice. “That pathetic yak-brained monk would rather wear clothes made of burlap and twine. As for wearing it myself, there’s not much point in clothing when you don’t have a body.”

“My apologies,” said Shon, “I didn’t realize that you don’t have a body. Though I guess that would explain how you’re able to fit inside a cage as small as that crystal.”

“Indeed,” replied Gravine. “The size of the prison hardly matters at all when it’s your soul that’s imprisoned.” Shon could hear the contempt building in the necromancer’s voice, and saw the green light grow in intensity. Then Gravine paused and the light dimmed again. “Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself, and I’d like to tell this story properly. Go on Shon, I am looking forward to seeing how my old cloak looks on a smart young wizard like yourself. Put it on, and then we’ll begin.”

Shon was relieved that Gravine still hadn’t caught on, but he decided to push his luck just a little bit further. “You seem rather eager for me to put it on,” said Shon, pretending to be hesitant to put his arm in the first sleeve. “This isn’t going to curse me as soon as I put it on or anything is it?”

“If you suspect my gifts are so terrible, then you’re welcome to drop it on the floor and rot in this cell for the rest of your life!” Gravine stormed. “I’ll make sure it’s gone before you wake up from you next sleep, and you’ll never see it again.”

“No, no, I’m sorry!” Shon stammered. “I’m sorry I was just trying to be cautious. I’m frightened, but you’re right. It was rude of me not to trust you.” Shon then put on the cloak.

The feeling of warmth and security that Shon felt once the cloak was on him again was so overpowering that he nearly wept. He probably would have, if he hadn’t been worried about making Gravine suspicious of the reaction. “It’s absolutely perfect,” said Shon. “It is without a doubt, the most magnificent piece of clothing I’ve ever worn.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve finally learned some proper gratitude and humility,” Gravine said. “Now we can finally begin your education, Shon.”

“Thank you for your patience with me,” said Shon. “I know I was difficult before and it was rude of me to refuse to listen. But that’s all changed now, and I’m ready to listen and pay attention. I believe I’m finally ready to learn the truth.”

Aluanna walked among her camp outside town as several members of her band continued to sleep soundly after a long night of playing had ended just four hours before. The joys of waking with the sunrise had been as pleasant as usual, and even with the dampness from the recent rain, the sounds of smells of the early morning forest greeted her like a friend. All the same, she couldn’t help notice that there were fewer birds singing in the trees than there ought to be so early in autumn, and she worried that the creeping gloom in the region was spreading this close to town.

Aluanna decided to walk to the nearby stream to see if a splash of cool water would calm her nerves. She had just lowered her hands to the water when she felt a surge of magic swell inside her. Toj stood nearby, and when the satyr saw her pause, he walked over to see if anything was the matter. When he reached her, it almost seemed for an instant as if her eyes were glowing white. But then the moment passed and he was certain that the sun reflecting off the water must have been playing tricks on him, because when he looked again, her eyes were the same as usual.

“My Lady,” said Toj, “is everything alright?”

“That stranger, Tarun, and his companions, Seth and Shon,” said Aluanna. “Has there been any word of them?”

“Not since we parted ways,” said Toj. “Why do you ask?”

Aluanna’s voice was quiet and distant, and her eyes seemed focused on nothing in particular. “There may be more to them than we first believed,” she said. She then looked down at her hands and realized they were still in a cupping shape beneath the water, and her fingers were getting chilled. She hastily stood up and dried her hands on her skirt. “Any news on the Sword of Wheat legend?”

Toj scratched his head at the spot where his horns stuck out. “My brothers and I asked around when we arrived to see if any of the storytellers or musicians in town were familiar with it,” he said. “There were two old-timers who remembered it from a nursery rhyme from when they were little. One of them even sang it to me.” Taj made a face. “The tune is a little catchy, but I should warn you that chorus will get stuck in your head for a week.”

“A nursery rhyme?” Aluanna looked disappointed. “I thought it was a whole legend I heard as a child.”

“Sometimes our childhood memories make things grander and more important than they really were,” said Toj. “I could’ve sworn I fought off a bear when I was a kid, but my brothers insist it was just a really cranky raccoon.”

The joke was almost enough to make Aluanna laugh, but there was still something weighing on her. “And you’re sure you and your brothers spoke with everyone?”

“Well, we spoke with all the storytellers and musicians in town,” said Toj. “So everyone worth speaking to.”

Aluanna could tell there was more to that statement than he wanted to explain, so she raised an eyebrow and continued to look at him in silence.

“I mean there was that one guy,” Toj finally admitted. “Probably not the most charming guy in town. Definitely the least charming guy in the whole town. He may be the only person I’ve heard of that can manage to be more rude than Roj without getting indigestion afterwards.”

“Oh no,” said Aluanna. “What happened?”

“I mean, it obviously wasn’t Roj’s fault,” said Toj, which was how he always started stories that ended in fights that were definitely Roj’s fault. “So Roj is on a street corner talking with the Town Gossip, which is a totally legitimate category of storyteller by the way, and he’s asking about the Sword of Wheat. The Town Gossip looks at Roj like he’s got something growing out of his head, which he does by the way because, you know, the horns, but doesn’t know anything about the Sword of Wheat.”

“That’s when this pretentious jerk walks over and starts talking about how he knows SO MUCH about the Sword of Wheat and how he’s practically an expert on it.” Toj rolled his eyes and let out a bleat at the end to show his annoyance. “I mean can you believe that guy?”

“Probably!” Aluanna exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “Why wouldn’t I believe him? Who would bother lying about being an expert on a nursery rhyme?”

“Well for starters, someone who would lie about anything,” said Toj. “Tax collectors.”

“Oh no,” said Aluanna with a wince.

“Oh yes,” said Toj. “I mean, it’s no secret that satyrs and tax collectors are natural enemies, so I think it showed a lot of self-restraint that all Roj did was give the guy a couple bruises.”

“Roj punched the one person who can tell us more about the Sword of Wheat than the annoying chorus to a nursery rhyme?” Aluanna looked around to see if any of her followers were looking, then bent down to scoop up some water in the stream and fling it at Toj’s face. “And you didn’t tell me?”

The cold water surprised Toj for a moment, then he looked back at Aluanna with a look of horror as he seemed to finally remember who he was speaking to. “Lady Aluanna, forgive me,” he said, bowing low. “I fear my brothers and I have been acting more like head-butting goats than noblemen.”

“Well then stop acting like buttheads and help me fix this,” Aluanna said, keeping her voice low enough that only her old friend could hear her. “We need to find this expert, apologize for your brother’s behavior, and see what we can learn.”

“Of course,” said Toj. “At once, my lady.”

“Thank you,” said Aluanna. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Now where can we find this tax collector?”

“Oh well the funny thing is,” said Toj, “it turns out that this town doesn’t actually collect taxes in the traditional sense. So while this guy is just as dry and humorless as a tax collector, he’s actually… the keeper of the town treasury.”

Aluanna sighed. “Of course he is.”

 

---

 

Toj sat in a chair next to Aluanna in the most boring room he had ever visited. In front of him was the most boring desk he had ever seen, and on the other side of that desk was surely the most boring human Toj had ever met. It was a testament to Toj’s loyalty to Aluanna that he managed to keep his hoof-tapping to a minimum.

“Thank you for being so gracious, Lord Haughlt,” said Aluanna. “My followers have an abundance of passion, and sometimes it spills over in unfortunate ways.” It took everything Toj had to resist kicking something at the indignity of the situation. If anything, their gangly pallid host should be the one thanking Aluanna for gracing his town with her presence. She had even put on shoes before coming into town. The idea of Aluanna, Lady of the Wood herself, covering her feet offended Toj from hoof to horn.

“Well passion is certainly something we have in common,” Haughlt said in a nasal monotone voice. “That’s why I would never let something as trivial as a bruised eye and swollen lip get in the way of my duties as the steward of public records for the entire Southern Moorfast region. After all, acting deputy town treasurer may be my occupation, but my true calling and passion is my work meticulously maintaining the integrity of the documentation that reports the material contributions paid from citizens and businesses to the various local and sovereign governing bodies that have existed in this region during the last four centuries, as well as the records of expenses made public regarding the use of those communal funds.”

Toj sat stupefied, unable to comprehend the human sitting before him. The man’s eyebrows and mustache twitched as he talked, as if whatever nonsense he was discussing was actually capable of evoking excitement and joy out of any living creature. Indeed, his eyes seemed to flash with euphoria as he spoke. And yet his tone never shifted up or down to punctuate his words. His volume was as even as roof that leaked all night, and his rate of speech was as steady as a metronome.

“Did you know,” asked Haughlt, “that the Southern Bellfast region boasts the most comprehensive historical financial accounting records on the entire continent? Thanks largely to its lack of strategic or political value in nearly all major conflicts on record, our books have never faced devastation by war or fire like so many other regions in the past. In fact, the greatest risk these records face is abandonment and careless handling, against which I stand as their staunch defender.”

Truly, the languid, monotone voice which continued to drone on from Haughlt matched the dullness of the subject, yet Toj could not look away. How could this man’s eyes be so electrified, the fur between his nose and lip scurry so jubilantly, while talking of numbers on paper and tax records written by long-dead nobodies, all spoken in a voice that sounded like someone spent an hour sitting on cheaply made bagpipes?

“That is remarkable,” said Aluanna, catching a yawn so sleight that Toj was sure he was the only one to notice it. “Please, Lord Haughlt, what can you tell my companion and me about the Sword of Wheat?”

“Ah, now that is something noteworthy,” Haughlt said in the same tone that was never used by anyone ever to say something interesting. “Now a number of people have heard of the Sword of Wheat from the once-popular children’s song by the same name. Hopefully you’ve already heard this song for yourselves, for I’m afraid I would be unwilling to sing it for you.”

Toj’s heart skipped a beat. Both at the horrifying prospect of hearing Haughlt sing anything, and the simultaneous relief that he would not have to experience those horrors first hand. Finally, Toj thought to himself, he had caught a lucky break.

“A few perceptive historians have even proposed a connection between the song and the unique grain that grows in a more…” Haughlt paused to find the word he was looking for, and Toj found himself unconsciously holding his breath in response. “…unsavory area in the region.”

All the moisture in Toj’s mouth was gone. He felt a great weight in the pit of his stomach, and a numbness crept through his limbs. He could not even build a proper rage at what he had just witnessed, but only an exasperated hopelessness for the man across the desk.

One of the longest and proudest traditions among the dwindling culture of satyrs was that of sharing stories of heroic satyrs who goaded hapless humans into battles of wits and guile, and of the fantastic wordplay that went over the humans’ heads. The most popular of these stories always involved a human so dull and witless that they actually made a play on their own words without even realizing. And then, as Toj listened with his own words, Haughlt had been an inch away from executing one of the most perfect unintentional puns that any satyr had ever mocked a human for, and he missed it.

In his imagination, Toj could see the scene of hilarity as he shared with his brothers how this dolt of a human had called the dark-yet-oddly-wheat-abundant realm of Vdekshi “a seedy area of town.” But those hopes were dashed because this dullard couldn’t even get that right. He could feel all hope for hidden entertainment or delight evaporate like the moisture in paint left to dry on an outhouse door. There was nothing left of him with the energy to resist the mundane miasma emanating from Lord Haughlt, so he gave in and just let the words seep into his brain like the juices from an overcooked vegetable soaking into an innocent piece of bread left carelessly too close on the same plate.

“What everyone has failed to recognize however,” said Haughlt, “is that the words of the verses actually correspond to some very specific expenditures recorded nearly three centuries ago. Not only that, but some extraordinary unpaid tax invoices seem to be tied to the same series of events, and the estimated values used to calculate those sums follows a pattern that matches the same exponential growth as the expense reports.”

Toj felt his eyes flutter and his head began to nod against his will. For the briefest of moments, he was afraid that he was falling under a spell of lethargy cast by the most cunning sorcerer in the world, disguised as this painfully boring man. But Toj was too drained of energy to even care anymore. The fluttering of his eyelids increased.

“For example,” Haughlt went on, “the first verse begins, ‘Ten knights, Twenty knights, Forty knights more. The king sent eighty to settle the score.’ But obviously those first three groups of knights only total seventy, so that group of eighty must be referring to an entirely new group, rather than the sum of the first three. So clearly we see a pattern of the king in this story choosing to double the number of knights he sends each time to collect the taxes due to him. But who ever heard of such a thing?”

Toj was fading fast. His breath was becoming slow and deep. He could only pray that Lady Aluanna would be able to defend herself against this diabolical foe.

“And yet,” Haughlt went on, “just such a ludicrous series of expenses was made, right here on this very ledger. As you can see, the plaintiff in the record was the monarch of the time, while the claim was made against a farmer recorded simply as…”

As sleep overcame Toj, he felt himself floating through a void of darkness that was pitch black, yet felt strangely of bubbly water. It was very unlike the usual lively and vividly colored dreams that satyrs usually experienced. It wasn’t even like the spectacularly terrifying nightmares he occasionally had. This was something different.

The sensation of bubbliness increased as the wateriness of the sensation decreased, and the scene around him grew gradually lighter until he found himself standing in the middle of a wide field of golden wheat. Not far from where he stood, he could see a man harvesting the wheat with a long scythe. The man stopped his reaping, turned, and began walking forward. Toj felt he had seen the man before, but couldn’t quite match his face with anyone he could remember. Then Toj remembered Seth who had sent Aluanna searching for information about the Sword of Wheat in the first place. As the man stepped right in front of Toj, he realized that this farmer bore a striking resemblance to the young man.

“Hello there,” said the farmer. “Forgive my surprise, but we don’t often get visitors out in these parts. It’s nice to meet you.” The farmer extended a hand in greeting. “Most folks around here just call me Friendly Seth.”

The ringing in Tarun’s ears never seemed to stop. The high-pitched noise inside his head was painful and made it nearly impossible to think. Whenever he became angry, the ringing got louder and the pain got worse. And ever since Krall and the others died, it seemed like he was angry all the time. Tarun didn’t like being angry, but the ringing and the anger were apparently inseparable.

Tarun sat outside in silence, breathing the cool morning air and considering the events of the night before. The night before, Shon had been taken, the ringing in Tarun’s ears had been absolutely deafening, and he had almost killed a man with his bare hands.

Light from the sunrise now peeked through the windows, and through those windows Tarun saw the face of the wretched man called Mari. The man who had lured Tarun and his friends into a trap. The man who was responsible for Shon being taken. The man who was only asleep and not dead because Seth had intervened on his behalf. Just looking at Mari made the ringing in Tarun’s ears worse, so he looked away.

A moment later, Seth stepped outside and joined Tarun on the rundown porch that circled the building. “Looks like the sun is finally up,” Seth said wearily. “And it seems the undead mob that surrounded us last night has been gone for a long time. Hopefully that means we’re safe for now. You should get some rest, Tarun.”

“What about him?” Tarun asked, hooking a thumb behind him. “I don’t want Mari sneaking off and escaping while I’m asleep. Getting his help to get Shon back is the whole reason I let him live, isn’t it?”

“The reason you let him live is because you’re not a killer,” said Seth. “You’ve got a good heart, Tarun, I can feel it. You’re better than that.” Tarun made no reply, but crossed his arms.

“But yes,” Seth continued, “now that he can talk, we’ll get him to help us however we can.”

“So why don’t we just wake him up now?” said Tarun.

“Being healed takes a lot of energy,” said Seth. “I’ve seen the lantern heal people before. It’s even healed me. But those have all been injuries that were minor or fresh. I’ve never seen anything like what it did last night, so I have no idea when he’ll wake up.”

Again, Tarun’s thoughts turned to the night before. He had been in a rage after Shon had been taken, and was looking for something to tear apart. But Laronius and the zombies had all retreated, leaving Tarun without a target for his wrath. And then he had run down the stairs and seen the wretch Mari trying to sneak out the door into the night.

After taking one look at Mari’s face, it had been clear to him that the pathetic little man had been expecting the ambush. Tarun had grabbed him and demanded to know what he had been keeping from them. When Mari had shaken his head in response, Tarun began choking him.

Seth had tried to intervene. He had tried to get between Tarun and Mari. He had tried calming Tarun down with his words. But Tarun had heard nothing but the ringing in his ears. But then, struggling for air, Mari had opened his mouth.

Tarun had recoiled at the sight. Mari’s teeth were all gone, his gums the color of mud, and his tongue was black and shriveled. In his shock, Tarun had released his grip on Mari’s throat, and he could finally hear the words that Seth had been shouting over and over.

“Stop it!” Seth had been shouting. “He can’t talk! Don’t you see? He can’t talk!”

Then a beam of light had erupted from Seth’s lantern sitting nearby. It had hit Mari directly in the face, and seemed to illuminate the whole room. When the lantern dimmed again, Mari had stood before them with his mouth open wide in amazement. His teeth were whole, his gums were pink, and his tongue could move. After licking his dry lips one time, Mari had collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Tarun turned to look again through the dusty windows at Mari, now illuminated by daylight, and lying in the exact same spot where he had collapsed the night before. Tarun had no doubt that Mari had been part of the trap set for them. It seemed unjust that scum like Mari could be healed while someone good like Shon was captured. Why should Mari be healed when Tarun was still suffering from the pain of his ringing ears? He wished Mari was dead. The ringing grew louder.

“Tarun,” said Seth, bringing Tarun out of his brooding thoughts, “even if Mari doesn’t tell us anything useful, we still can’t kill him. You know that, don’t you?”

“Why not?” asked Tarun. “It’s what he deserves.”

“You don’t know that,” Seth said. “And besides, it’s not about what he deserves. It’s about doing what’s right. Killing this man won’t accomplish anything?”

“It would make me feel better,” Tarun said.

“Would it?” Seth asked. “Is that really what you want?”

“You have no idea what I want!” Tarun snapped.

Seth opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped and closed it again. He looked at Tarun for a long moment before finally speaking. “You’re right, Tarun. I don’t know what you want. I know almost nothing about you. Ever since I met you and Shon, it was Shon and I who did all the talking and you’ve been nearly silent. I’m sorry for that.”

The ringing in Tarun’s ears quieted a little. “Don’t apologize,” Tarun said. “I speak up when I have something to say. The truth is, I don’t even know what I want, other than getting Shon back. He wanted to help me get my memories back. Until then, I doubt getting to know me is even worth the trouble. For now, I’m just a broken pot that’s lost everything inside.”

“Oh come on now,” said Seth. “You don’t look broken to me. But then…” Seth’s eyes went wide. “But then again, Mari didn’t appear broken either until he opened his mouth!” Seth turned and opened the door to the building. He lowered his voice to a whisper to avoid waking Mari inside, but his expression was full of volume. “Stay right there, I’ll be right back!”

A moment later, Seth stepped back outside holding his shillelagh and his old lantern. Closing the door quietly before he spoke, he resumed his usual volume. “I’m such a fool,” he said. “Not everything that needs healing can be seen as easily as a cut or a bruise. Sometimes they can’t be seen at all.”

“What are you talking about?” Tarun asked. “I’m fine. Your lantern already healed that gash on my arm, remember?”

“You just said yourself that you feel like a broken pot,” Seth said. “Just because your arm was healed doesn’t mean that all of you was healed. Here, hold this.” Seth put the lantern into Tarun’s large hands. “Hold it. Look into it. I want to try something.”

“What am I supposed to look for?” Tarun asked.

Seth didn’t answer. His eyes were closed and his fingers were moving along the lines and carvings of his shillelagh. His breathing became slow and even, and whenever he exhaled, he mouthed a word. Tarun tried to read Seth’s lips, but his attention was drawn away by a light in the corner of his eye.

At first, Tarun thought the light must have simply been the sunlight reflecting off the lantern, because as he looked into it he couldn’t see anything but the empty chamber inside. But even though it was empty, it somehow held Tarun captivated, and he began to look in earnest at the center of the lantern, as if searching for something without knowing what.

But before Tarun even realized what he was searching for, he found it. There, in the heart of the lantern, at its absolute center, unattached to wick or anything else, was the smallest pinprick of a spark of light. This was unlike the sparks Tarun had seen in the fires of the glassblower’s furnace at Life’s Edge, or the sparks that would pop up from the campfires he had enjoyed on those nights he had traveled with Krall, Piggy, Solimar, and Shon. Those sparks had been deep orange, darted wildly, and only lasted the briefest of moments before dimming and disappearing forever in the dark.

This spark was bright white, perfectly still, and grew gradually brighter, even with the growing daylight to contend with. Again Tarun thought of the sparks popping from campfires on the warm summer nights when he had traveled with his friends. But instead of dwelling on the insignificant orange sparks, this time his mind replayed the pieces of those memories that gave him strength. He saw Piggy take hot rocks from the fire and put them in the water that would become their stew. He sensed Solimar behind him preparing the tents and bedding to sleep in later on. He heard Krall’s deep and throaty laughter at a joke that Shon had made as his friend grew more confident and comfortable around the dragon hunters.

As the emotions from the scene swelled inside Tarun, he became aware of that fact that it was a memory, and he could feel hot tears falling down his cheeks. The feelings grew in his chest, filling a hole Tarun had not even realized needed filling. A soothing sensation moved through him like water poured onto thirsty soil, seeping into every crack and crevice, washing away barbs and blisters that had been completely hidden until the moment they were removed.

Tarun gazed intently at the white light, which had now grown larger than just a spark, and realized that it must be some magic within it that was causing this change in him. He felt a surge of gratitude within him, and the light began to pulse and move slightly, like the dance of a candle flame.

More thoughts and memories came to Tarun’s mind. The hidden valley where they had been rescued by Piggy. The inn where Krall had coached him through winning the arm wrestling match. The gentle confidence of Uncle Grodin and his wise advice. The healer’s hut where Shon had spoken to his mind for the first time.

And then there was silence for a long moment. True silence. Tarun realized for the first time that the ringing in his ears was completely gone. The pain in his mind was gone. Tarun looked at the growing white ball of flame inside the lantern, feeling an increasing mix of anticipation, excitement, longing, and fear.

In that silence, he heard a voice. It was not a loud voice, nor was it quiet. It was not harsh, nor was it overly gentle. The voice was a maternal, direct, and absolutely sincere. It was a voice that he recognized.

“Tarun, son of promise, last child of the firstborn. Awake, arise, and embrace your destiny. Gather your allies, raise the standard of hope, and stoke the dying embers of the opal flame into a fiery beacon. Stand firm and command your forces, lead them to victory as Enemies of Creed.”

At this last statement, the white light seemed as though it had grown larger than the lantern could hold. Frightened and unwilling to hear more from the voice, Tarun looked away and dropped the lantern.

The moment that he had let go, he regretted it, and he turned to try and catch it. Instead, he saw Seth laid out on the ground in front of him, arms outstretched as if in a dive, holding the lantern an inch from the ground.

“What was that?” Seth exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anyone’s eyes glow like that before. Are you alright, Tarun?”

“We need to find Shon,” Tarun said, then collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

 

---

 

Several miles away, Shon awoke from a nightmare of a terrible voice that had been taunting him, when its laughter was abruptly cut short. As he sat up in the dungeon, he thought his eyes were adjusting to the gloom, so he didn’t realize that they had been glowing just a moment before. “Tarun?”

When Shon awoke, the complete silence and darkness made him wonder if he had died. Fortunately, his other senses quickly compensated and left him feeling certain that he was still alive. He was quite sure that the dead didn’t experience headaches like this.

There was a pressure behind his eyes that felt like someone had hit him in the face with a bag of rocks. His mouth was dry and tasted bitter. His tongue felt fuzzy and all he could smell was dust. Worst of all was the cold draft blowing on his head and down his neck.

Shon reached to pull his hood over his head, but as his hand touched the collar of his shirt, he realized that it wasn’t there. The horror of losing his father’s cloak hit him in several successive waves of panic and nausea. His father’s cloak was missing. The familiar egg from his mother was inside it. It was all he had of them. He was cold and exposed. How would he shield his mind from the thoughts of others? How would he block out the monster in his nightmares?

The worry began to swirl faster and faster around Shon’s head, until his breath became short and the panic began to grip his heart. He sat up and grabbed blindly around him, frantic to find anything, but all he felt was cold, stone floor. Shon was about to scream, but a moment before he did, a green glow emerged from the other side of the room.

“Is someone there?” Shon called. Though the green glow was not bright, he found himself squinting and avoiding looking directly at it. It seemed to move and hang in the air like smoke, but it had a sickly sheen to it. Like rotten meat left out in the sun. While the glow was clearly visible, it’s strange light did not illuminate Shon or the surrounding area, making it the only thing he could see.

As the green glow swirled silently nearby, Shon tried to think how he could have ended up in his current surroundings. His memory was such a blur of images and events that he had difficulty discerning what was real and what was nightmare. He recalled their run through the woods to escape danger, the town full of zombies, the large building with the creepy old man, and a musty brown couch where he was going to rest.

After that, the memories became much more surreal. A feeling of intense dizziness and nausea. Cold, dry hands grabbing his arms and legs. The terrible face of a marble statue wearing half a mask of flesh. Intense pain in his neck. A howling rushing wind. Two laughing voices, one high pitched and close, the other low and far off.

Recalling the laughter sent a fresh shiver through Shon, and the movement brought him back into the moment. He realized that while he had been lost in thought, the green glow had been growing in size and intensity. Not only that, it seemed to be slowly snaking towards him.

Shon hurried to his feet and shouted at the spectral light. “Stay back! I’m warning you!” He tried to take a defensive stance, but without his cloak he felt exposed. In his fright, his hands awkwardly flailed around him, trying to remember what they were useful for.

Stick. He normally used his hands to hold Stick. And it was only when his hands grasped aimlessly that he realized that he had lost his uncle’s powerful wooden staff as well. He was completely defenseless. His heart started pounding and his mouth was sputtering as panic began to take over.

“I’m a dragon hunter!”

Shon didn’t know why he had blurted that out. Even though he had traveled with Krall, Piggy, and Solimar, he had never considered himself one of them. They had been so foreign and different from him, and he had only joined them to go along with his friend. He had always felt out of place and uncomfortable around them, and when Tarun told him they had died, Shon had only felt a strange emptiness.

But none of that really seemed true anymore. He was standing cold, alone, exposed, and afraid in the darkness, but as soon as he had shouted the words “I’m a dragon hunter,” he felt something surge through him. There was a distant roar somewhere in the back of his mind.

“I’m a dragon hunter!” he shouted again. The distant roar grew louder in his mind, and a sharp pain pressed against the back of his eyes, but Shon used that pain to press forward. “I learned to track from the great Solimar Silverbow. Krall the Relentless taught me to fight, and Piggy the Boarhearted taught me to scrap and snort. So this is your last warning to stay away from me!”

He may have been stretching the truth a bit, but Shon didn’t care. With every word he spoke, he trembled a little bit less, he felt a little less scared and exposed. He didn’t feel so alone. Yes, the dragon hunters had been strange and wild and scary, but Shon had been one of them. He was a dragon hunter, which meant he could be scary too.

And it was working. The green glow had stopped moving towards him, and it was no longer growing larger. It hung still in the air, as if waiting for Shon to finish.

“That’s better,” said Shon. Instead of flailing about, his hands were now firmly on his hips, looking like his Uncle Grodin used to when Shon had been naughty. He took a step forward and pointed a finger sternly at the glow. “You’ve stolen what’s rightfully mine,” he scolded, “and I demand that you return my property and take me to my friends, now.”

Shon almost added, “or else,” but stopped himself before he said it. He decided that dragon hunters don’t need to threaten to have their demands taken seriously. And besides, he didn’t know what to say if he was asked, “Or else what?”

Then there was silence. The silence felt odd to Shon, and the longer it lasted, the more it nibbled and bit at the edges of his newfound bravado. He found himself wondering what Krall or Solimar would do after making such demands. It felt wrong to sit down or turn his back on his enemy, but how long should he just stand there? If he kept talking, would it appear that he was just nervously rambling on? Could the thing even hear him? Was it even alive at all, or was he simply rebuking a strange wisp of smoke?

Shon was about to repeat his demands, but just as he took a breath to do so, the floating green glow dropped down to the floor, spreading out and making a quiet hissing sound as if it was deflating. The glow became less harsh to look at, and appeared transparent now as well. Shon could see the stones of the floor beneath, and he realized that the glow was now faintly illuminating the room around him. He didn’t like what he saw.

Chains and shackles hung on the walls. Metal bars surrounded him to the front, left, and right, and a wall of solid rock was behind him. With growing dread, he realized he was being held in a dungeon, and by the look of the roughly hewn rock wall, he was likely underground. And he was certainly in no position to be making demands.

Then the green glow spoke to Shon. The sound was quiet and distorted as it seemed to echo and bounce off of every wall in all directions at once. But there was no mistaking its source, because the green glow brightened and dimmed with every syllable.

“Mighty dragon hunter,” the voice said, “you misunderstand our predicament. I did not steal your property or take you from your friends. I approached you to seek your assistance.”

Shon looked again at the vaporous green glow near his feet. The way it floated just above the ground gave him the strange impression that it was almost bowing to him. Or groveling. Rather than menacing like before, it now seemed rather sad and pathetic to him.

“Who are you?” Shon asked.

“A prisoner, like yourself,” said the voice. “Though I have been imprisoned far longer than you, and my cage is much smaller.” As soon as the voice had said this, the green glow swirled backwards across the room, though the bars of Shon’s cell, and moving to a separate cell on the far side of the dungeon. As it moved, Shon saw an elegant metal staff, leaning against the wall in a corner. Atop the staff was a large green crystal, which the green glow retreated into, making the crystal shine like a beacon in the dark dungeon.

“I was once a powerful mage,” said the voice, “but I was betrayed by those I trusted, and I am now a prisoner of the necromancer Vdekshi. He uses the enchanted silver staff you see to keep me trapped within this cursed crystal. It limits my power and prevents me from defeating the monster that has us both trapped.”

“I’ve heard plenty of Vdekshi,” said Shon. “He’s the one responsible for the crazed dragons that terrorized a village, poisoned my friend Tarun, and killed the other dragon hunters.”

“I am sorry for the loss of your friend,” said the voice.

“Oh, Tarun didn’t die,” said Shon. “He’s incredibly strong and resilient, and I think he wasn’t poisoned as badly as the others. Still, he’s been different ever since then. More angry all the time.”

“Your friend survived the madness poison?” said the voice. “Incredible. I thought that was impossible. But I’m afraid it means that he’s now in greater danger than ever.”

“Why?” Shon asked.

“Vdekshi is absolutely obsessed with that poison,” said the voice. “If he’s learned that someone exists who can survive even the smallest trace of the poison, he will stop at nothing to destroy them. I believe it also explains why he has captured you. Obviously he intends to torture you until you reveal everything you know about your friend.”

“Torture?” screamed Shon, now gripped with panic. “What kind of torture?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said the voice, “because it will never come to that. Vdekshi has made a grave mistake today, imprisoning us together. You’re a tremendously powerful wizard, I can sense it even from my crystal prison. I can unlock even greater power within you, which we’ll use to defeat Vdekshi and save your friend.”

“How?” Shon asked.

“Just leave that to me,” said the voice.

“I don’t even know who you are,” said Shon. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Gravine,” said the voice. “And if you and I work together Shon, there is nothing in this world that can stop us.”

“Are you really imprisoned in that crystal?” Shon asked. “It’s hard to see clearly from so far away in the darkness, but it looks hardly bigger than my hand. You’d have to be the size of a pixie to fit in there.” After a brief pause, Shon added, “Are you a pixie? I guess that would explain the glowing.”

“A pixie?!” hissed Gravine. “I tell you that I am the great and mighty Gravine, Master of Souls and King of the Dead, and you have the nerve to ask if I am a pixie? You are a fool if you think you can deceive me with this pathetic attempt at feigned ignorance. Do not pretend you’ve never heard of me or my once great dominion.”

Shon found himself unsure how to respond. If this Gravine character was as powerful as he was implying, and a fellow enemy of Vdekshi, then it may be important to avoid offending him. Shon considered apologizing and asking forgiveness for the misunderstanding. On the other hand, Shon’s question had been an honest one, and for someone who had claimed to be a friend and ally just moments before, Shon found he didn’t appreciate the tone that Gravine was using, and distrusted how quickly his tone had changed.

Besides, Shon thought to himself, hadn’t he just introduced himself as a dragon hunter? And whether Gravine was truly powerful or not, no one should speak to a dragon hunter that way. Unless perhaps he thought that Shon was lying about that too. Would Shon have to prove himself to be taken seriously?

Well why should he? Shon glared at the green stone, hardening his gaze. What gave some creepy voice inside a glowing crystal the right to scold Shon as if he were a rude child? After all, Shon was a dragon hunter. He had traveled with them, learned from them, tracked and hunted with them. He had even saved them all from a powerful witch and her thugs. Krall, Piggy, and Solimar never needed to prove themselves to anyone, so why should Shon? Certainly Solimar would never put up with being treated like this.

“That’s a lot of big talk for someone stuck inside the world’s ugliest emerald,” said Shon. He decided that if he had spent enough time with Solimar to learn how to walk like an elf, he had probably learned enough to talk like an elf too. “You say I’m a fool just because I’ve never heard of some former ‘King of the Dead,’ as if that title means anything? Do you know how many decades it’s been since there have been kings, queens, or any other royalty on this continent? What, have you been living under a rock?”

“You mock my fate,” said Gravine, the light from the stone intensifying. “Clearly, you really don’t have any idea who I am, how many servants I have, or even what true power is! I have risen armies from the dead, sent the ghosts of my enemies to torment their own kin, brought giants to their knees…”

“How about a dragon?” Shon interrupted, and Gravine stopped talking. “You were ranting about power. Have you ever stopped a full-grown, poisonous dragon that was insane with pain and anger?” The growl in the back of Shon’s mind grew louder, and he used it to fuel his own bravado. “No time to prepare, no fancy memorized spells or incantations, and no stupid, smelly zombies to do you’re dirty work for you. Just your own raw talent and might against the most deadly creature that’s ever roamed this land. Ever done that?”

“Because I have,” Shon went on. “So don’t try to lecture me about what true power is. I can see what you are now. You’re a necromancer just like Vdekshi, using the death and spirits and bodies of anyone else, so you don’t have to use any power of your own. For all I know, you’re the one who taught it all to Vdekshi in the first place, and being stuck in that rock is exactly what you deserve. Well I’ve seen firsthand what that kind of magic can do, and I’m not impressed.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Gravine spoke. “I thought you said it was your friend who killed the poison dragon.”

“He and the others killed the hatchlings,” said Shon. “I was the one who stopped the mother.” The roaring in Shon’s mind was now becoming so intense that it was no longer a source of strength and bravado, but simply rage.

The coiling green gas again began to emerge from the stone, and it wafted towards Shon as if to corner him. “And just how exactly did you manage that?” Gravine asked.

“Mind your own business!” Shon shouted, his voice echoing the roar in his own mind. A blast of force swept the green mist back across the room, where it remained still.

“Well, my apologies,” said Gravine. “It seems you do understand what true power is. And it would appear I was right after all the first time I spoke.” A high, hissing laugh seemed to issue from the stone. “If you and I work together Shon, there really is nothing in this world that could stop us.”

Illustration of Shon by Ryan Salway

Seth offered to take the first watch of the night. He told Tarun and Shon that he needed to keep an eye on the lantern to ensure it kept its light, but in truth he doubted that he could have fallen asleep in a strange building surrounded by zombies. At first, his companions had offered to keep watch along with Seth, as they felt just as uncomfortable with their surroundings. However, as night wore on and the silent threat outside made no further attacks, the exhaustion of the day and their desperate escape eventually caught up with them.

Mari, the strange silent man who had become their reluctant host, had remained in his hiding place behind the stairs after giving them some tattered blankets. Mari was strange to say the least, and he had made Seth very uneasy when he had first come out from hiding, but he seemed too frail to be dangerous and he hadn’t objected when the three of them climbed the stairs to explore the second story of the building.

The upper floor was in far less disarray than the one below. Instead of a jumbled mess of overturned furniture and broken fixtures, the rooms upstairs seemed as though they had not been abandoned at all. Most of the rooms appeared to be offices of some kind, and each of them had one or two desks, oil lamps, and several stacks of parchment and envelopes that were brittle to the touch. Most of the ink on the writing was so faded or smudged that it was illegible, but the little that they could read made them think the building had once been some kind of town hall.

Two of the offices were much larger than the others, and the door handles were more ornate. Seth supposed they had perhaps been the offices of some rather important officials, such as a mayor or sheriff. In addition to the desks and parchment that the other offices had, these rooms also had a few other accessories. One of them featured a large bookshelf with several volumes containing maps of farms and boundary lines. The other large office had a cabinet with several bottles of extra writing ink, as well as some lamp oil that Tarun and Shon had used to light lamps of their own.

Perhaps the most welcome discovery was that each of the large offices had their own couch. The couches were musty and covered in dark brown bear fur, but they were long, soft, and far more comfortable than the hard floor. Seth found it odd that Mari had not moved the couches downstairs, but discovered the reason when they tried to pick up the furniture to do just that. Each couch was firmly bolted to the floor at the legs, and at the base of the legs were carved the words, “OFFICIAL USE ONLY. DO NOT RELOCATE.”

Seth felt uneasy about leaving Tarun and Shon alone in the rooms, but he didn’t want to deprive them of the comfortable couches. At the same time, he realized that he needed to return downstairs soon, as a look out an office window showed that the zombies outside were slowly closing in again in the absence of Seth’s lantern to keep them away.

Tarun shared Seth’s uneasiness, and suggested that he and Shon keep the doors to the rooms open in case Seth needed their help. Shon agreed and assured the others that they had plenty of lamp oil to keep them burning until sunrise. And, having said that, the young wizard laid back on his couch and fell almost immediately asleep. The couch in the other large office wasn’t long enough for Tarun’s tall frame, but he draped his feet over the end, and before long he was also sound asleep.

Seth returned downstairs, stepping carefully and quietly to avoid awaking Mari. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Seth raised his lantern high above his head, and the magical light within intensified. As the beams of light illuminated the windows of the building, he could hear the zombies outside shuffling quietly away. Seth gave an appreciative glance at the lantern, grateful that he had been entrusted with such a powerful gift.

Looking around the large circular room, and the winding spiral staircase, Seth tried to imagine what the building would have looked like before the town had fallen to ruin. He imagined light filtering inward through the windows, sounds of carriages and markets outside, and people walking up and down the stairs. It was the people that Seth liked to imagine the most. He imagined some as simple and sturdy farmers, some as town officials in more elegant attire, and all of them were hurrying one place or another on urgent business.

Seth had not even realized his daydreaming had become actual dreaming until he suddenly awoke to the sound of footsteps and an eerie, haunting tune. He looked up and saw a woman walking toward him, wearing a long purple dress and black cloak. Her face was obscured by the cloak’s hood, but it was clear that she was the source of the music. Seth jumped to his feet, lifting his lantern and brandishing his shillelagh, but he lowered his weapon when he saw a lock of red hair fall from beneath the hood.

“Aluanna?” Seth suddenly felt foolish for being so alarmed. It now seemed so obvious that the music that had awoken him was Aluanna’s beautiful music. Still, he was no less surprised to see her there. “What are you doing here?”

Aluanna stepped forward, removing her hood to fully reveal her face. She was as lovely as ever, but she wore a frightened expression that worried Seth. “I had to find you. You need to come with me, immediately.”

“What happened?” asked Seth as he began gathering up his belongings. The melody in the room continued, reassuring and unnerving him at the same time. “Did you discover the song about the Sword of Wheat?”

Aluanna nodded, then looked over her shoulder. “Yes, but that’s not safe to talk about right now. Your life is in danger and we need to get out of here now!” She took a few more quick steps towards Seth until she was directly in front of him.

Seth reached out to put a hand on her shoulder and the music in the room seemed to intensify. Seth would not have presumed to embrace a lady of her stature, but she seemed so distressed that he felt compelled to comfort her somehow. “I don’t understand. Where is the rest of your band? How did you get past the horde outside?”

Aluanna threw herself into his arms, burying her face in Seth’s shirt. “The rest of my band was killed,” she sobbed. “I was the only one who escaped. The zombies are gone right now, but we have to leave before they come back. Please, I’m frightened! You’re the only one who can protect me!”

The words shocked Seth, and he felt his stomach drop. Aluanna’s band had seemed so vibrant and full of life the last time he saw them, and their deaths seemed unimaginable to him. “I… I’m so sorry,” Seth stammered. “Let me go get Tarun and Shon and we’ll leave right away.”

“No!” Aluanna pleaded, her eyes darting in panic. The beautiful melody in the room seemed to slightly waver and shift in pitch, like a key change poorly executed. “The others will be fine,” she said. “It’s you they want, my beloved. And they’re going to succeed if we don’t leave now!”

The tempo of the music seemed off somehow, and Seth began to question for the first time just where the music was coming from. “Who?” Seth asked. “Who’s after me?” Aluanna hesitated, and Seth took a step away from her.

As soon as Seth had removed himself from Aluanna’s embrace, he realized just how wrong the whole scenario was. The woman in front of him had the face and features of Aluanna, but the similarities ended there. The wisdom and dignity and confidence he so admired in her were gone. She grasped again at Seth, but the concern was an obvious charade, and she was tugging at his lantern like a thief.

To make matters worse, Seth could hear that the off-beat rhythm he had noticed earlier was not part of the music at all. It was the sound of pounding on a door upstairs.

“Let go of my lantern!” Seth shouted, yanking it free of the woman’s grasp.

“Come with meee!!” screamed the imposter, lunging at Seth.

“Shurrah!” he shouted, and a blast of light hit the woman, sending her sprawling backwards. As Seth’s eyes adjusted to the intense light emanating from the lantern, he could see that she was an old woman, withered with age and seething with hatred. Seth stepped forward to question the woman, but before he could say another word, she pounced for the door, escaping into the night.

For a moment, Seth considered pursuing the woman, but as the last of the music faded from his ears, the sound of the pounding upstairs startled him enough to bring him fully to his senses. He bounded up the stairs, with his shillelagh in one hand and his lantern shining brilliantly in the other. As he neared the top of the stairs, he could hear Tarun’s voice shouting above the sound of the pounding. When he arrived at the door a moment later he saw that it was pitch black, and it seemed to muffle the sounds behind it.

Seth raised his lantern and swung his shillelagh at the door. The black coating shattered like a shadow made of impossibly thin glass, and the shouts, banging, and other sounds behind the door were instantly amplified. He swung again, leaving a noticeable dent in the door, but failing to do any more substantial damage. Suddenly, Seth heard a loud “CRACK” in front of him, and a moment later the entire door burst off its hinges. He had only just managed to step away in time to avoid being flattened by the door, Tarun, and the six zombies who were trying to wrestle him to the ground.

Seth remembered the anger he had seen on Tarun’s face the first time he had met the large warrior, but that had been nothing compared to the fury that Seth was witnessing now. The zombies were biting, grabbing, and doing everything they could to bring him down, but Tarun shrugged off their attacks and threw each one off of him as if they offered no more resistance than a sack of flour.

Looking past Tarun into the room he emerged from, Seth could see almost a dozen more zombies scattered across the floor. Several were missing limbs and two had heads that were turned to face behind them, but all of them were lurching to stand again and resume the fight. Seth raised his lantern and shouted “Shurrah!” There was another flash of blinding light, and the zombies all fell to the floor, completely still.

Seth hardly had time to feel relieved before Tarun grabbed him by the collar. “What happened?!” Tarun shouted. “I thought you were keeping watch!”

“I was!” Seth said, instinctively pulling away from Tarun. While Seth considered him an ally, he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the kind of beating Tarun had given those zombies. “I don’t know what happened! I think I was put under some kind of spell. There was an old woman who looked like Aluanna, and she was trying to lure me away. I’m sorry, Tarun!”

Tarun released his hold on Seth’s shirt and pounded a fist into his other hand. Seth noticed for the first time that Tarun’s knuckles were bloody, probably from hitting the locked door so many times. “The witch!” Tarun said. “How did she get here? We’d better warn-” Before he could finish his sentence, Tarun ran to the room where Shon had been sleeping.

Seth followed immediately behind, and when they arrived at the room, Seth saw that the door had the same jet black appearance as the previous door. Tarun began kicking and ramming his shoulder against the door, but it wouldn’t so much as budge. “Wait,” he said, and smashed the door with his shillelagh. Again, the black layer shattered and dissolved. Tarun wasted no time kicking down the door, ripping it from its hinges.

Behind the door there was no fight, no mass of zombies, and no Shon. There was only a huge gaping hole in the wall where the window had once been, and floating on the other side of that hole was Laronius. The vampire sneered at Tarun and Seth, and then disappeared into the night.

The moment the door was shut, Shon didn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified. He was glad that the zombies that had been attacking them were now outside the seemingly sturdy walls he now found himself within, but what was inside with them? Something had shoved Seth to the ground and slammed the door shut, and Shon was certain it hadn’t been Tarun. Before panic could set in, Shon decided to do what he did best, and put his impressive mind to work.

Seth’s lantern was still giving off light, despite his fall to the floor, which Shon was grateful for. But the swinging lantern cast shadows and swayed and danced across the walls of the messy room, and Shon found it difficult to look in any one direction for long without feeling dizzy. He pulled back his hood and firmly grasped Stick, the magical staff his uncle had leant him. Shon tried to open his mind to sense anyone else in the room with them, but between his own fear and the disorienting shadows, he found it hard to focus.

There was a loud creak from one of the floorboards by a nearby staircase, and the sound startled Shon, Tarun, and Seth all at once. Shon turned his attention to that corner of the room and saw what looked like a large broken harp covered by a tattered sheet. The sheet moved slightly as if blown by the wind, but Shon couldn’t feel any breeze at all. If anything, the air felt so still and stale he suspected the windows hadn’t been opened in years.

“Hello?” Shon called out, trying to sound braver than he felt. “If someone is in here, we haven’t come here to hurt you.”

Hurt me? Pah! Skinny boy like that couldn’t hurt me if he tried. What hurts me is that light. It’s too bright for my eyes! That big fella looks like trouble though. Better stay out of sight until I can tell what they’re doing here.

The reply was so faint and rushed that Shon wouldn’t have understood it at all if he hadn’t been listening closely. At first he had thought that he had heard a whisper, but when he looked at Tarun and Seth for their reactions, it was clear they hadn’t heard anything. That meant he had sensed the thoughts of someone in the room with them. He gripped Stick more firmly and tried to listen for more stray thoughts, but there was nothing.

Shon decided that perhaps saying something would prompt more thoughts from the stranger, so he cleared his throat and spoke again. “If the light is hurting your eyes, would you rather we put it out?” Seth gasped at Shon’s words, but Shon ignored him and focused to sense the stranger’s reaction. He was surprised at the panicked response.

Is the scrawny boy crazy? Put out the light and the dead will begin pounding on the door again. The door may be solid, but poor Mari’s ears can’t take that banging anymore!! Leave the light on, foolish boy!

“Alright, we’ll leave the light on!” Shon shouted to the dark room. “I was just trying to be considerate.”

Do you… Do you hear me? Can you understand Mari? Are you my imagination? Mari thinks you must be because you talked back to me, but I didn’t move my mouth. I didn’t speak. Mari’s hasn’t spoken for years because then I might have to speak of what I did. And Mari doesn’t want to do that.

“Yes, I can understand you,” Shon said, some amount of calm coming back to him. “But no, we’re not figments of your imagination. We’re real, and if you just come out here where we can see you, I could show you that. Your name is Mari?”

There was a sound of wood scooting against wood in the corner, and a gaunt man in oversized clothing came crawling out from under the stairs. The clothing was worn and faded, but appeared as if the outfit had once been quite handsome. Copper buttons studded the sleeves and collar, and the chain of a pocket watch hung from the vest to the inside of one pocket. The length of the clothes seemed to match the height of the man, though he was stooped over, even after he stood up from the floor. The width of the clothing was definitely wrong though. The collar ringed far to wide around his thin neck, and the baggy clothing hanging onto his frame resembled a tent built with too few poles.

The man looked at Tarun warily. None of you are going to hurt Mari?

“No,” Shon said. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re just looking for a place to stay the night. Preferably a place that doesn’t have zombies crawling all over us.”

The man looked eagerly at Shon and the illuminated lantern. You will keep light going through the night? You will keep the monsters from banging the door?

“Yes, we’ll keep the lantern lit, Mari,” said Shon. “Though I can’t promise you that it will keep the zombies from pounding on the door.”

Mari then turned to Shon with a stern gaze. And you will not ask Mari any questions tonight?

Shon fidgeted. He didn’t like being forced into silence, but he also didn’t want to anger the stranger and find himself back outside with the zombies. “Alright,” said Shon, “I won’t ask you any questions tonight, but that doesn’t mean I can’t ask you questions tomorrow.”

Mari grunted, but then shrugged and walked back to his hiding place under the staircase. When he returned he was carrying three heavy blankets.

Tomorrow’s problems can wait for tomorrow. Tonight is the night we’re alive. Stay alive. Keep the light bright. Sleep when you can.

“OK, it looks like Mari is letting us use the blankets,” said Shon. “Who wants to take the first shift as lookout?”

Suddenly, Mari’s eyes darted upward and he wagged a finger in Shon’s face.

Don’t look out the window in the darkness.

“Why not?” asked Shon.

Because the darkness looks back.

Illustration of Shon by Ryan Salway

A pale moon hung high overhead as the sun sank closer to the horizon behind the trees. As a chill wind blew past Seth’s face, he held up his dented lantern like a shield. There was a prickle down the back of his neck that he tried to attribute to the cool wind, but there was a suspicion in the back of his mind that there was more to it than that.

“Are we still on the path?” Shon asked. “I can’t see it anymore.”

“It was difficult to find even in full daylight,” Tarun said. “It’s growing so dark now that I doubt we’ll be able to follow much at all, even with Seth’s magical lantern. We may be better off unpacking and setting up camp for the night and trying again in the morning.”

Without the tauroks and wagon, Seth, Tarun, and Shon had been required to divide up the most essential travelling gear and carrying them on their own backs. Shon had been disappointed to part with the sturdy beasts of burden, and Tarun had been reluctant to entrust Aluanna’s band with the belongings of his former companions, but Aluanna had informed them that the twisting forest paths they needed to take would be far too unpredictable and treacherous for the slow and awkward beasts. When faced with the choice of turning back, risking the lives of the tauroks, or sending them with Aluanna’s band, Tarun had decided they would be better off solely on foot anyway.

Shon had just begun to remove his heavy pack with a relieved sigh when Seth heard it. There was a sound of movement and disturbance in the woods that didn’t seem right. Seth couldn’t quite figure out what about the sounds put him at such unease, but he didn’t stop to deliberate. “Put your pack back on, Shon,” Seth said. “We can’t stay here.”

“What’s the matter?” Tarun asked quietly.

“We can talk while we walk,” Seth said. “Don’t bother whispering though. We might as well talk loud enough to hear each other.”

“Why do you say that?” Tarun asked.

“Because…” Seth began to talk, but suddenly his mind was racing.

“Because whatever is out there isn’t bothering to be quiet,” Shon interrupted. “That’s what you were just thinking, isn’t it Seth? I could feel the pieces fall into place in your mind. That’s what’s bothering you. Whatever noises you’re hearing, their being made by something that doesn’t care about being heard.”

“Exactly,” Seth said, quickening his pace. “Everything in the forest, whether it’s predator or prey, wants to be as quiet as possible unless it’s trying to find a mate. What do you hear right now?”

The three were quiet for a moment and all three heard the sounds of cracking branches, shaken leaves, and shuffling dirt. Even worse, they heard the sounds coming from all around them.

“Well I hope that isn’t anything looking for a mate,” Shon said.

“Alright,” Tarun said, picking up a large rock while he walked, “Seth is right. We can’t just stop and break camp. But where are we supposed to go? The sun is setting and we’re in the middle of the woods. We can’t see the trail anymore. We don’t even know what direction to go in.”

“I may be able to help with that,” Seth said. He held up his lantern higher, scanning the area in front of him. He tried to open his mind to the subtle nudging he’d experienced before when letting the lantern’s light guide him. He looked for anything. A gleam from a stone, a beckoning shadow, a spot that held the light for just a moment longer than the others. But Seth could find no sign of the direction he should go.

Instead, the lantern swung in his hands as he walked, and the light shone upwards into the tops of the trees. Seth looked up and saw shapes moving among the branches. He realized with a sense of dread that they were surrounded not only on all sides, but from above as well. It was while he was watching the shuffling climbing of the shapes up high that his feet slipped and he fell.

The slope beneath Seth was too steep for him to adjust his footing, and the mud was so slick that it wouldn’t have done him much good even if he could. He tumbled and slid without being able to stop himself, but he was at least able to keep his hold on his lantern and shillelagh, and he managed to keep himself from tumbling head over heels.

When he landed at the bottom of the slope, he was wet and muddy on his backside, but he was unhurt. He looked around and noticed that Tarun and Shon were still at the top. He was just about to call up to them when he heard Shon begin shouting.

“Aaah!! Who are you?! What do you want from us?” The young wizard sounded more panicked than Seth had ever heard him. “Tarun, they’re mindless! My magic isn’t working! Help!!”

Immediately, Seth heard Tarun howl with rage, followed by a loud cracking noise that echoed through the nearby hills. “Let go of him!” he bellowed. It was clear to Seth that their struggle was not going well, and he couldn’t find any way to climb up the slope to help them.

“Down here!” Seth called. “It’s slippery, but trust me! You’ll be safer down here!”

A moment later he heard a loud grunt from Tarun, followed by the sounds of something large sliding down the mud. At first he tried to position himself to catch Tarun and Shon, but as he saw the speed they were coming down at, he decided it best to just get out of their way. They landed much harder than Seth had, but neither seemed badly hurt.

“Are you alright?” Seth asked, helping them to stand. “What attacked you up there?”

Shon suddenly froze with a look of terror in his eyes and stared right past Seth. “Those!” he screamed.

Seth spun around and found that the three of them were completely surrounded by a dirty, foul mob. Except there was no shouting, jeering, or threatening from this mob. There was not even breathing. Every body illuminated by his lantern light had the same vacant expression and lifeless color. It was obvious to Seth the moment he saw them that these were not the faces of the living. Seth’s breath caught in his throat. “Undead.”

Tarun immediately picked up the largest stick he could find nearby, and started swinging it wildly. “I thought you said it was safer down here! Now there’s even more of them!” Tarun swung his stick hard into the head of one of the horde, but it didn’t even flinch when struck. It merely grabbed the stick and wrenched it away from Tarun’s grasp with an unholy strength. It began to step closer to Tarun, but then lurched and stopped.

Seth looked down and realized that the shuffling movements of their attackers were shifting side to side, but not forward. Their feet paced at the edges of where his lantern was illuminating the ground.

“Wait!” Seth said a moment before Tarun tried to throw a punch at one of the bodies. “Step back, Tarun. They can’t come any closer as long as we stay within the lantern light.”

Shon looked around them, dumbstruck. “Seth’s right,” he said. “Look around. The light is actually keeping them back!”

Tarun stepped back, but still held a large rock in his hand and kept his eyes fixed on the bodies in front of them. He took a few steadying breaths, and then finally spoke through clenched teeth. “Well what do we do now, then? We can’t just stay out here like this all night. What if the light goes out? Or these things find a way past?”

Seth was about to say something about the light never going out, but before he could speak, something caught his eye. There was a gleam in the distance. Almost as if the light from his lantern were reflecting off a pond in the treetops, or maybe…

“A window,” Seth said.

“A what?” Shon asked.

“Through those trees in that direction,” Seth said. “There are buildings. Or at least a building. I saw it just for a moment.”

“I don’t see anything,” Tarun said, squinting his eyes in the darkness.

“Trust me, it’s there,” Seth said.

“Like we trusted you to slide down here?” Shon shrieked.

“You’re better off down here than you were up there, aren’t you?” Seth said.

“Fine,” Tarun interrupted, “but how do we get there?”

“Leave that to me,” Seth said, sounding more confident than he really felt at the moment. He took a step forward, and the lantern light moved with him. But the mob didn’t move. Their feet were now within the circle of light, but they still came no closer. If this was going to work, Seth would have to get them to move back.

“Shurrah,” he said, taking another step forward. This time the bodies did begin to shuffle backwards until their feet were out of the light. “Come on,” he beckoned to the others.

Their progress forward was slow and unnerving. The hardest part had been when they had left the mud bank completely behind them, allowing the horde to move around behind. Still, they continued forward, and the barrier of the lantern held. Soon they came to a clearing and saw the remains of a ruined old village. The buildings were in varying degrees of collapse and decay, and inside they could see the shambling forms of more animated corpses. The one building still intact stood in the middle of the ruins.

It was either an old church or town hall. In either case, it must have been what Seth had seen from afar, because it still had glass windows intact in its central spire. At the top of the spire was a large brass bell. They continued to move slowly towards the door of the large building, until they finally reached its solid wooden door.

All three attempted to push against the door, but it held firm. For a brief moment, Seth thought perhaps he saw candlelight from one of the windows of the building, but realized it must have merely been the reflection of his own lantern light. They were just about to search for another entrance around the back, when they heard a loud creak from behind the door. Whatever had been holding the door closed, it was now opening.

Tarun stepped carefully into the doorway, followed by Shon. Seth stepped in behind them, holding his lantern high to keep the mob outside the door. A moment later, the door slammed shut, and the bolt locked behind it.

Seth
Art by Ryan Salway

 

Treshigan stood over the body of a frail old woman lying on a bed. The woman’s thin white hair was braided and pinned into place with an ivory comb, and rings, bracelets, and other jewelry adorned her wrinkled and knobby hands and arms. Her face was covered in heavy makeup, which failed to conceal the deep frown lines and other wrinkles etched across her face.

Treshigan loved and hated the woman on the bed. She lay completely still on the table. Her eyes did not flutter, and she did not even breathe, yet Treshigan knew she was still alive. If she were dead, then that would make Treshigan dead as well, and Treshigan was still very much full of life. At least she was for now. But she had failed Vdekshi, and she feared what may happen next.

As a breeze blew in the window and stirred the old woman’s hair, Treshigan scolded herself for coming into the bedroom at all. She knew it would only make her more upset, as it always did, yet she could never resist it for long. She brought her hand close to the old woman and looked longingly at the jewelry that had meant so much to her.

There was a large brooch fastened near the old woman’s collar that had been a present from a wealthy merchant. “A token of your beauty,” he had told her all those years ago. It was the first of many such tokens that she had offered to Vdekshi to be imbued with his supernatural power. She remembered her amazement at how it had gleamed so beautifully that day. How poetic she had found it that a token of her beauty had become the source of her beauty restored.

But the brooch no longer gleamed and shone so brilliantly. Its magic had been spent, and it was now as dull and gray as the old woman’s hair. The same was true of every piece of jewelry the old woman wore. The pearl necklace and earrings given to her by a loud and conceited sailor now appeared to be made of little more than ordinary pebbles. A tinkling bracelet had lost all its sparkling beauty and sat flat and silent on the old woman’s wrist.

After surveying the lackluster collection, Treshigan’s eyes fell last upon her most recent loss. On the old woman’s right hand was an ornate golden ring with a large diamond set on the top. She glared at the thick crack in the diamond, and muttered a curse at the dark-skinned dragon hunter who had caused it. Treshigan had expected the magic within the diamond to last much longer, but the crack had ruined all of that. She hated to lose the ring, but its magic was gone, and so Treshigan had taken it off and put it on the old woman, just like she had with every other piece of jewelry she had once treasured.

The only jewelry left to Treshigan could hardly be called jewelry at all. On her left hand was a simple brass ring that had been given to her by a foolish young farmer who had been stupid enough to think that she could ever love someone as poor as him. Treshigan told herself that she had held onto that ring longer than the others because it meant the least to her, and she was embarrassed to be seen with it.

And yet she knew it was the faint magic remaining in that polished brass ring that separated her from the fate she saw in the bed before her. Treshigan shuddered at the thought, and held her left hand close to her chest. She could not bear to lose it all again.

“How pathetically tragic,” said a cold voice behind her.

Treshigan managed to suppress the urge to jump and turn around, but just barely. She didn’t want to give her unwelcome guest the satisfaction of knowing that his silent creep into the room had alarmed her. He was always doing things like this, and he knew that Treshigan hated it.

“Whatever you want, Laronius,” she said, “I suggest you go somewhere else to get it. I’m not in the mood for your sick games right now.”

Laronius silently floated next to her, and looked down at the old woman on the bed. “Ah, but sadly, there is no other place I can get what I want right now,” he said. “Because what I want at the moment, is to help you.”

Treshigan laughed, and this time she did turn to face him. “Help me? You’ve caused me nothing but grief since the day we met. And besides, I don’t think you’ve helped another living soul in your entire life.”

Laronius shook his head. “Such harsh words,” he said. “Do you ever consider my feelings before you say such things.” A moment later, a wicked smile spread across his face. “Still, you may have a point. It’s not as if I come across many living souls on a regular basis here, so helping them is hard to come by.”

“Why, take you and dear old Granny here,” he said, gesturing to the old woman. “She’s alive, but has no soul. You have a soul, but… well you’re hardly alive, are you?”

Treshigan’s face went red and she had to resist the urge to slap the vampire across the face. “What do you want, Laronius?”

“I already told you,” Laronius said in a singsongy voice. “I want to help you. And it just so happens that the way I can help you is by letting you help me.”

“Of course,” Treshigan said, rolling her eyes. “But you still haven’t said what kind of help you want from me.”

“There are some dangerous intruders marching towards our fortress right now,” said Laronius. “You’ve met two of them already. They were with those dragon hunters you encountered during your last little trip outside.”

“A weak, untrained wizard and an empty-headed muscle man,” she said with disgust. “I don’t know why you’d call them dangerous.”

Laronius wagged a patronizing finger at her. “I believe it was that kind of thinking that got you into trouble the last time you met them, Tresh,” he said. “Besides, they aren’t the only ones heading here. One of the intruders is… not going to be easy to defeat with our usual forces. It would be unwise to outright attack him, which is why I require someone with your more… subtle talents.”

“My subtle talents will do little good if this intruder is traveling with those two fools,” said Treshigan. “The dark-skinned one has already seen my face when my magic was broken. He would recognize me in an instant.”

“Oh yes, I’m well aware you’re worthless against those two,” said Laronius, waving a hand. “That’s why we’ll be bringing in two of your sisters for them.”

Again Treshigan laughed, though there was nothing remotely funny about the conversation. “Has Lord Vdekshi learned nothing from his past failures? He should know by now that my kind does not do well working together.”

“I think you’ll find that anyone and anything can work together when the motivation is right,” said Laronius. He then added with a gleam in his eye, “Besides, I didn’t say anything about Vdeskshi being the one sending you and your sisters to perform this task.”

“You mean you expect me to do this because you tell me to?” said Treshigan. “Why would I ever spend precious time and magic doing your bidding? You have nothing to offer me in return.”

“Too true,” said Laronius, “but I’m not the one sending you on this errand. You know that there is a far greater power behind the magic that Vdekshi plays at. And he is more than capable of giving you what you want.”

Treshigan grinned, and for the first time since returning to the fortress she felt a rush of triumph. “Your bragging and taunting has finally gotten the better of you, Laronius. I’ve suspected for years that you were secretly plotting with the demon in that twisted rock, but I never had any proof. Now you’ve all but confessed to it. Once I tell Lord Vdekshi what you’ve been up to, I doubt you’ll find your position here quite so privileged.”

Laronius’ smile turned from mocking to menacing in an instant. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll tell that big oaf anything.”

“And how will you stop me?” Treshigan said, putting her face directly in front of Laronius’. “If you kill me, you’ll have to answer to Vdekshi for it. I may have failed him, but he still considers me valuable, and I’m not yours to command.”

“My dear Treshigan,” said Laronius, not backing away, “why do you think you’re still here at all? Why do you think Vdekshi hasn’t already taken that little brass trinket from your finger?” He leaned in close until his mouth was right next to her ear. “Because he’s forgotten you,” he whispered.

Treshigan’s sensation of triumph suddenly sank like a stone and settled somewhere below her stomach. Laronius let the moment linger, and then stepped back from her.

“Look around, you silly little girl,” he said, gesturing to the window. “Haven’t you noticed that Vdekshi is gathering his forces together? He is preparing for war! I told you about the danger of the intruders. Why would he bother with dispatching a little failure like yourself when he has other matters on his mind?”

“Of course, you could go to him,” Laronius continued. “Remind him that you’re still here and that he hasn’t yet punished you like he intended to. Remind him that you’re still hoarding some of his valuable magic that he could be using in more worthwhile ways right now. But really, why?”

Treshigan felt like crying, but she refused to let herself show any emotion in front of her tormentor. “Maybe I would,” she said, “just for the satisfaction of dragging you down with me.”

Laronius dropped his smile, and a strange expression came over his face. It almost resembled compassion and genuine concern. He reached out and touched Treshigan’s hand, and the gentleness of it made her more afraid than anything else he’d done yet.

When he spoke, his voice was no longer mocking or harsh. It was deep and rich, and reminded her of the way that young farmer had spoken to her once. “Once again, I would ask you. Why? Why suffer under an inept and ineffective master, when you can serve one who rewards his servants the way they truly deserve? Why beg and grovel for a few more morsels of power, a few more gleaming trinkets, when you can earn true freedom?”

“What do you mean?” asked Treshigan, and she found her body was shaking.

“I mean Vdekshi doesn’t begin to understand, or he refuses to understand, the power at his fingertips,” said Laronius. “He is content to grant you the illusion of youth and beauty, while my master can actually give it.”

“He can take… this,” said Laronius, waving a hand at the body of the old woman, “and restore you to what you once were, and so much more. He can give you what these trinkets never could. He can grant you the freedom to never feel powerless to another man ever again.”

Treshigan brushed her hair behind an ear and stood tall and straight, fixing a smile back on her lips. “Alright,” she said. “Tell me more about this errand my master has for me.”

Laronius hovered upside down in total darkness, his feet pressed against the ceiling of the dungeon. It was one of his old childhood games brought to life. As a young boy he had spent hours lying on beds, chairs, and boulders with his head upside down, imagining that the whole world was upside down with a dirt ceiling and nothing but an endless abyss below. Laronius was disgusted at the memory of the snot-faced boy he once was, but the game still amused him. He even found it useful.

Since becoming a vampire, his skin burned and blistered when exposed to direct sunlight, and even under thick robes on stormy days he could not stay out in daylight for long. So Laronius had been forced to stay underground during the day. He resented any kinds of rules or restrictions, and so at first he had tried to defy the limitation by staying within the inner rooms and secret passageways of the fortress above the ground. Unfortunately, even rooms in the heart of the stronghold had some kind of window or other access to the sky outside, and he found that he spent far too much time trying to maneuver within constantly shifting shadows.

Recalling his old game of turning the world upside down had proved a valuable tool in maintaining his pride. Once safely underground by himself, he would float to the ceiling and rotate himself to reorient his perspective. He would then tell himself that the door he had come through now led to a bottomless pit that only fools would stumble into, and he would then begin “climbing his way up” through the seemingly endless underground levels of the fortress.

No one bothered Laronius when he explored underground. Vdekshi and his servants all called the area belowground the “dungeon” of the stronghold, but only the three levels closest to the surface actually had any doors or locks, and those had all been added by Vdekshi when he claimed the stone keep. In reality, the rooms below seemed to be an intricate network of cellars and storerooms. Some rooms even had wells and underground springs, which annoyed Laronius with the way they disrupted his upside-down game.

In fact, it was the game that had caused Laronius to explore so much of the subterranean halls. Normally he would have been wary of being confined so deep below the ground, even as a vampire, but when playing his game, Laronius imagined himself ascending higher and higher through a great tower. It was by venturing so “high” that Laronius had discovered his favorite rooms.

“The Mausoleums,” as Laronius called them, were something of a curiosity. The first time he had come across the various plaques, medallions, and stone carvings inside, he thought he had found a collection of great trophy rooms. Certainly there were depictions of individuals performing incredible feats and challenges. It was the repetition of names and the unusually advanced ages of the people recorded on the markers that tipped Laronius off to their true nature. These were not rewards for the living, but memorials for the dead.

They were certainly no royal tombs, by any standards. For one thing, there were no bodies, bones, or even ashes to be found anywhere, despite considerable searching by Laronius. Nor was there any display of wealth or status anywhere. No jewels or precious metals, not even a single coin. The markers themselves all seemed sturdy and expertly crafted, but none of them could be called ornate. It was if not a single one of them had tried to show up the others. Pity.

Of all the Mausoleums, Laronius’ favorite was the one he called, “The Tunnel to Ruin.” The door outside the Tunnel to Ruin appeared little different from all the other doors, except that it had a lock. It had taken Laronius countless attempts, and more than a little patience, but he had finally managed to pick the lock. And when he stepped inside, he considered it worth every moment.

Unlike the majority of the rooms that had the shape of proper rooms or cellars, the Tunnel to Ruin was remarkably long and sloped slightly downward. For the first few steps into the room, it was about as wide and narrow as a hallway. The stone walls were smooth to the touch except for the hundreds of names, ages, and lines painstakingly carved into them. From the way the lines seemed to connect each name to another, and the way they seemed to be grouped into family units, Laronius had gathered it must have been some kind of extensive pedigree.

Continuing further into the room, the quantity of names grew from hundreds to thousands, and the width and height of the room increased to fit them all. At the most spacious portion of the Tunnel to Ruin, the walls and ceiling were actually high enough and wide enough to fit the entire cottage where Laronius had grown up. It did not stay that wide for much further though.

Continuing downward, the room quickly became narrower, the walls rougher, and the names far less carefully carved on. Several family lines seemed to end abruptly, while others diminished with each additional generation. The room itself came to a jarring end to a wall of cold, jagged, naked stone. At the end of the room, lying on the floor, was an old broadsword.

It was not polished, but it was certainly not in disrepair either. The blade was sharp and it showed no signs of rust or decay. Like the memorial plaques, the sword appeared sturdy and simple, except at the handle. Engraved on the wood of the handle as well as the metal hilt was an intricate carving of wheat growing on a sunny field.

The sword was not hanging on display or even resting against the wall, but was lying crookedly on the floor as if simply discarded by its owner. Laronius had tried to lift the curious sword, but had been disappointed at every attempt. Not only did the sword fail to even budge, no matter how hard Laronius strained to lift it, he always experienced the unnerving sensation whenever he grabbed the sword that he was being watched and judged. Laronius hated to be judged.

Above the spot where the sword lay was the final name in the great family tree. This name had not been carved carefully or neatly. Indeed, unlike the other names, it did not appear to have been carved using any kind of chisel at all. Instead, it appeared as if the sword below it had been used to slash out jagged letters into the rock, spelling out the name, “Seth the Traitor.”

It had been several years since Laronius had discovered the Tunnel to Ruin, and he had all but given up on his seemingly useless search for any clues about the fate of the room. Now, he hovered next to the sword and final name again. He grinned wickedly as his words echoed in the empty room.

“Well Seth, if you won’t let me pick up this remarkable sword of yours, it looks like I’ll have to get your great-grandson to do it for me.”

As Seth stepped into Aluanna’s large tent, the first thing that he noticed was the scent hanging in the air. It was not powerfully fragrant like a perfume or incense, but it was very pleasant and hung lightly on the still air. The mild earthy scent reminded him vaguely of flowers blooming in the spring, and brought a smile to his face. His heartbeat quickened at the thought that he was privileged to be standing there, but when he looked down at the mud on his boots, his face flushed with embarrassment.

If Tarun and Shon had noticed the wonderful smell when they entered the tent, they gave no sign of it. Tarun wore a guarded expression, as if preparing for an argument or interrogation. His arms were not folded like the night before, but he was definitely not relaxed. In one hand he held a piece of rope that had broken off of the wagon covering as he had hastily tied it down. Seth winced as he saw that the rope was dripping dirty water inside the tent.

Shon still looked thoroughly frustrated with his wet clothes and face. Seth wondered to himself if Shon was still angry with him for assisting Tarun with the wagon. Out of the corner of his eye, Seth noticed that Shon was rubbing one hand on his clothes to dry it off, and then the other, but made a disgusted face whenever he switched hands for hold his wet staff.

Aluanna regarded the three of them with a hard and determined look, though Seth couldn’t tell if this was because she was offended by their appearance and demeanor, or because of the gravity of what she was about to say to them. Toj had certainly made it seem serious when he came to fetch them, as it was the first time he had seen the satyr without his usual half smile. Seth felt the urge to apologize, though he couldn’t quite think of what to apologize for.

Thankfully, Aluanna did not make Seth endure the uncomfortable silence for long. As soon as flap of the tent had closed, and it was clear that no one else would be entering behind them, Aluanna spoke. “I was hoping I would have more time to get to know you three before having this conversation,” she said. “But the arrival of the rains means that I no longer have that luxury.”

“Has something happened?” asked Seth. “When we spoke last night I thought-”

Aluanna raised a hand to silence him. “Please don’t speak yet,” Aluanna said abruptly, cutting him off. Seth’s face went red again and he took a small step back. “Toj, do you have your fiddle with you? Good, I believe you know the song I need you to play.”

Tarun took a step back and defensively put a hand on the door flap of the tent. “Is he casting a spell?” he asked, staring darkly at Aluanna.

“A mild one, yes,” Aluanna said matter-of-factly. “But he isn’t casting it on you, so there’s no need to glower as if you’re going to hit someone. His playing will merely ensure that anything said within this tent will not be heard outside of the tent.”

Toj began playing a lively but low melody on his instrument, and everyone looked at Tarun to see what he would do. After a moment had passed, Tarun seemed satisfied that there was no danger, and lowered his hand as he stepped away from the door.

“Are you worried that you have spies in your camp?” Shon asked quietly. “Because if you suspect one of them, perhaps I could-”

“No,” Aluanna said, waving her hand and dismissing Shon’s offer. “Dealing with traitors is something I can handle. It’s being overheard by those putting their faith in me that has me worried.” As she spoke, her shoulders seemed to slump and she rubbed her neck in a tired sort of way. Seth was taken aback at how quickly her stern and regal stance turned to one of exhaustion.

“Lady?” Seth said, concern growing on his face. “Is everything alright?”

Aluanna straightened up and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She looked over to Toj who was still playing his tune, and the satyr gave her a small nod. She took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders again. “No,” she said quietly with a slight smile on her lips. “I can truthfully say everything is far from alright.”

“Then how can we help?” Seth asked eagerly.

“You can start,” Aluanna said, her serious expression returning, “by telling me plainly and specifically what your intentions are.” She sat on a round stool next to a cot, and then gestured to some other stools in the corner for Seth and the others.

“I shared my story with you last night,” Seth said as he sat down. “Did you not believe me?”

“You told us all what brought you here,” said Aluanna. “You didn’t say anything about what you plan to do now that you’re here.” Aluanna turned her head to look at Shon and Tarun. “And your friends here have told me neither.”

Tarun gripped the rope in his hand tightly and water dribbled more quickly from it. “Vdekshi created an abomination,” he said, anger growing on his face. “A dragon warped with poison and dark magic.” At Tarun’s mention of the dragon, Seth noticed Shon place a hand to the side of his head.

“Her brood killed our traveling companions,” Tarun said, and then paused. “They killed our friends. Vdekshi is responsible for creating those monsters, and I’m going to make sure he never does it again.”

“You intend to kill the necromancer, then?” Aluanna asked.

“If necessary,” said Tarun. As Seth stared at Tarun’s hard expression, it occurred to him for the first time just how terrifying someone Tarun’s size could be when angry.

Aluanna regarded Tarun for a long moment, then suddenly turned her attention to Shon. “And what about you?” she asked. “You look less enthusiastic than your friend is with plans of storming fortress walls and killing necromancers. So what are you doing here?”

Shon seemed unprepared for the conversation to shift to him, and he stammered for a moment before finding his words. “Well, I’m friends with Tarun and I’m here, uh… Well I’m looking… for my parents.”

Aluanna’s tone changed from probing to puzzlement. “And you believe that Vdekshi has captured them?”

“Well,” said Shon, shifting in his seat, “no. I mean, I certainly hope he hasn’t, but I hadn’t really considered that before. I just, you know, I’m Tarun’s friend. I go where he goes. Rain storms and vampire attacks included.”

“That’s quite a loyal friend you have there,” Aluanna said with a smile. Even Tarun visibly relaxed at the comment. “And how about you?” she asked, turning to Seth. “Do the commands of the Ancient One include killing Vdekshi?”

“Well,” said Seth, his eyes darting between Aluanna and Tarun, “I don’t actually know yet.”

“What?!” shouted Tarun. “I thought you said you wanted to help us. You said you believed you were supposed to join with us? Why would you join us if you weren’t going to help us stop Vdekshi?”

“I do want to help,” Seth added hastily. “It’s just, well, I don’t know for certain if killing anyone is what I’m supposed to do here. That part just doesn’t… it doesn’t feel like the right path.”

“It is if you intend to walk the same path as we do,” said Tarun.

“You should listen to Seth for a moment,” Aluanna said softly. “There is likely more at stake here than you alone can see, Tarun.”

“I can’t believe this!” said Tarun. “I thought you hated Vdekshi as much as we do. And now you’re saying we shouldn’t stop him? Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Aluanna said, straightening her back again. “Vdekshi has been a plague on this region since before I was born, and the creatures he commands are terrible. I am no friend of Vdekshi.”

Aluanna paused and stared directly into Tarun’s eyes. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Go on,” he said.

“Vdekshi’s forces are terrible,” Aluanna continued, “but the strange thing is that they aren’t as terrible as they could be. Have you ever heard of ghouls that stay within borders? Or phantoms that bring prisoners in alive? That is not the way such creatures behave, and yet the ones belonging to Vdekshi do. It’s as if he’s the reason they exist, but he’s also the reason they don’t just tear everyone and everything apart. Who’s to say what could be unleashed if you kill him.”

“I thought you and your band were the ones keeping his forces in check,” said Shon.

Aluanna leaned forward and put her head in her hands, looking utterly defeated. She glanced quickly at Toj to make sure he was still playing before she spoke again. “If only that were true,” she said with a sigh. “My music has power to give courage and comfort, and when necessary I can enchant and confuse. I can enhance and guide the emotions of others, but what good is that against Vdekshi’s forces? Most of them feel nothing, and the ones that do feel only malice and cruelty.”

“So why fight at all?” asked Tarun.

“Because if I don’t, no one else will,” Aluanna said firmly. “The people in the nearby villages need hope and they need protection. Without something to believe in, they’ll either abandon the land to darkness, or abandon themselves to despair.”

As Aluanna spoke of hope, Seth felt a familiar warm, swelling sensation in his chest. Hope was right. Hope was the path he needed. Seth tried to think of the right question to keep Aluanna talking about bringing hope, but before he could think of what to say, Shon spoke up.

“I thought you said that Vdekshi kept his monsters within some kind of boundary,” said Shon. “Why do the people need protection if they can just stay outside those boundaries?”

“For one thing, the monsters don’t always stay within their borders,” said Aluanna. “But more often the problem is hungry villagers who cross the borders desperate for some of the wheat.”

At the mention of the word “wheat” Seth’s heart gave a great leap, and he became so inexplicably excited that he nearly fell off of his stool. “What wheat?!” he asked, far more loudly than he intended. Everyone, even Toj, all turned and stared at Seth. His face immediately turned bright red and hot.

“Sorry,” Seth stammered, “it’s just that I think the wheat may be important for some reason. Can you tell me more about it?”

Aluanna stared at Seth for a moment, and he had the impression she was trying to decide something, as if he had something strange on his face and she was wracking her brain to figure out what it was. She leaned closer towards him, but the look of puzzlement on her face only became more pronounced.

“Um…” Seth wished he could just disappear as his face reached temperatures he never believed possible, “Please?”

Aluanna quickly shook her head and leaned sat up again. “There is a kind of wild wheat plant that grows only here within the borders of Vdekshi’s domain,” she said. “It’s actually something of a weed, to be perfectly honest. But it makes a delicious flour, and to people who are starving, a weed you can eat tastes as good as any other food. When I first learned that it only grew here I thought it must have been some wicked bait invented by Vdekshi, but my mother told me the wheat was here long before he was.”

“Then where does it come from?” Seth asked eagerly.

“The ground,” said Toj as he continued playing. Aluanna shot him a reproachful look, but Toj obviously felt the joke was worth a quick glare.

“I’ve never heard anyone explain how the wheat came here,” said Aluanna. “It grows all over, but I’ve heard that most of it grows in a large field on the other side of Vdekshi’s fortress. The field is never harvested. Not even the poorest and most desperate would dare go so far into the necromancer’s territory. Most of them just come in a little way, like we are now, and pick whatever handfuls of wheat they can find.”

The more Aluanna spoke, the more excited Seth became. There was definitely something about that wheat that he was being led to. Something he was supposed to do. “Tarun, Shon,” he said, “we need to get to that field. We need to… to reclaim that wheat.”

To Seth’s relief, the look on Tarun’s face was not annoyance, but interest. “How do you believe this wheat will help us defeat Vdekshi?” Tarun asked.

“I’m not sure,” Seth said, “but…” Seth trailed off as a thought entered into his mind. He thought of a question that seemed somehow familiar, though Seth couldn’t guess why. “Have any of you heard of ‘The Sword of Wheat’ before?”

“How in the world would you make a sword out of wheat?” asked Shon incredulously. “And what would you do with it after making it? Throw it at Vdekshi and hope he’s allergic?”

“Well no,” Seth began to say. But even as he tried to think of a reply, it occurred to him just how strange his question had sounded. “I didn’t mean like that. I just meant, well…”

“I’ve heard of the Sword of Wheat,” Aluanna said, interrupting Seth’s stammering. The relief he felt at hearing her speak those words made his heart leap.

“You have?” he asked. “Where?”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s the same thing you’re talking about,” she said, “but ‘The Sword of Wheat’ is the name of an old legend in this region. I heard it once when I was a child.”

“Can you tell it to me?” Seth pleaded.

“As I said, I heard it once when I was a child,” Aluanna replied apologetically. “I don’t remember much, but I don’t think the sword in the story is made of wheat.” Seeing how crestfallen Seth became, she added, “But perhaps I can ask the different storytellers about it when we travel back to the towns soon.”

“Why are you going back to the towns?” Tarun asked.

“It’s raining,” Aluanna said simply.

“Your band only travels in fair weather?” Tarun asked.

“Some do,” said Aluanna. “That’s why I needed to talk with you now. Many in my band will wish to return to their homes now that the rain has begun, and I need to ensure they reach those homes safely. A few will come with us to take their place, but not as many.”

“That’s why I wanted to speak with you,” she continued. “Those in my band believe in me and believe in the power of my magic. My magic strengthens them, and their faith in me in turn strengthens my magic. But we are not winning this fight, and every night I fear the time will come when I can no longer protect them the way I’ve promised. I’ve protected this land before I was even a woman, but I cannot do it alone anymore.”

Seth jumped to his feet so suddenly that everyone in the tent stared again. But this time he did not blush at their stares. It was his heart, rather than his face, that was now burning. “Lady Aluanna,” he said boldly, “go and see if you can discover the story of the Sword of Wheat. I will go and find the field of wheat on the other side of Vdekshi’s fortress.”

Turning to the others he said, “Tarun, if you truly wish to defeat Vdekshi, then I implore you and Shon to come with me.”

“Lady, you said that you rely on the faith of your followers,” Seth said, turning to Aluanna again. “Now I’m asking you to have faith in me, and in the Ancient One who sent me. I ask that once you learn the story of the Sword of Wheat, you and your band will come find us at the field. I know I ask much for you to venture so far into the enemy’s territory, but I promise to deliver the hope you are looking for.”

Aluanna was taken aback by Seth’s sudden and dramatic vow, and she looked to Tarun and Shon to see if they had anything else to add.

“Of course we will go with you,” said Tarun, rising to his feet and clapping Seth on the back. “And together we will find the secret to defeating Vdekshi.”

Shon stood up as well, wiping his hands on his trousers once again. “Better than just wandering around in the rain, I suppose,” he said. Then he looked down at his feet and quietly added, “As long as I don’t lose a boot in some muddy field.”