In the past six weeks, Seth had been called a liar and a lunatic. For the offense of telling people the truth about what he had seen and experienced that night on the beach, he had been ignored, insulted, assaulted, and driven away. Some people had spit on him, others had shouted obscenities at him, and a few had even thrown mud and rocks at him. But without a doubt, the worst had been when he was thrown overboard at sea.

A chill breeze blew through the dark forest, reminding Seth of that stormy night at sea, and he shivered at the thought. He held up his lantern to try to find the firewood he told Shon and Tarun that he would bring back to the campsite. Seth had traveled with them for less than a day and he was anxious to prove his worth to them. He was nearly certain they were the ones he was supposed to find, though he didn’t know why yet.

Though the daylight had already faded away, Seth found that, as usual, the light from his lantern would illuminate no further than a couple of steps in front of him. He was grateful for the magical light in the darkness, but he figured it would have been easier to gather firewood if it could light a larger area than the small focused beam it produced. Follow the light, the voice had told him that night on the beach. Let it guide you. Seth eyed the rusty lantern and sighed. For a guide, it sure had led him into a fair amount of trouble.

Seth tripped on a stump in the darkness and lost his balance. For a moment, as he swayed and shifted his weight to regain his footing, he suddenly found his mind reeling back to the rocking boat and crashing waves of that stormy night at sea. Seth had been so sure and confident in his direction that night, despite the howling wind and crashing thunder all around him. After all, how could anything go wrong as long as he was following the light and letting the lantern be his guide?

In his mind’s eye, Seth could see himself standing at the edge of the sailboat, holding his lantern high in the storm, the captain of the small vessel shouting through the wind to put it out. For once, the lantern had actually shone clear and bright in the darkness, cutting through the rain and spray. The two other sailors on the boat looked at Seth as if he were insane.

Seth had looked out into the storm and for a moment his faith in his guide wavered. Illuminated by a flash of lightning, Seth had seen an enormous scaly tail and fins several times larger than the boat he stood on. In the frothing waves, the lantern’s beam revealed a giant eye staring up at him from under the water.

“Put that cursed light out!” the captain had shouted at Seth. “Unless you want that leviathan to swallow the whole ship!”

“Trust me,” Seth had hollered over the roaring winds and falling rain, “if we follow the direction of the light, we’ll be just fine. You’ll see.”

“I don’t know if you’re blind,” the captain had shouted back, “but right over there is some land where we might just escape that thing if we’re lucky. If you haven’t noticed though, it’s in the opposite direction of where that blasted light is pointing!”

“I told you where I got this lantern from,” Seth had hollered. “How can we go wrong if we follow something that powerful?”

“Look,” the captain had shouted, “I figured you were a fool when you shared that absurd story, but I thought I’d humor you because you were a paying customer who could afford the fare for the trip. But I see now you’re more than just a fool. You’re downright mad!”

Seth had pleaded further with the captain to steer the boat in the direction of the light of the lantern, but to no avail. Seth had been so sure of their direction, that he had even attempted to take control of the rudder from the captain, reasoning that the crew would be grateful to him once he had led them to safety. Instead they had responded by accusing him of mutiny and throwing him and the lantern overboard.

Once in the water, Seth had been unable to keep his grip on the lantern, and very quickly he had no light at all. As the waves crashed over him, Seth had only managed to keep his head above water to see two more flashes of lightning in the storm. In the first flash of lightning he had seen the outline of tall, jagged rocks in the direction of the land where the boat was headed. In the second flash of lightning, Seth could see a huge serpentine shape circled all around him in the water. After that there had been no more lightning. There had been only wind and waves and rain and darkness.

When Seth had awoken on an unknown shore the next day, he had no idea how he had survived the night. Even more peculiar, the rusty lantern had washed up on the shore right next to where he lay. Seth had dragged himself far enough from the water to dry off in the late morning sun, but it had taken him more than a week to get the smell of fish and a feeling of slime out of his hair and clothes.

Since that night, Seth had been more cautious when telling people about the lantern and where it came from. The light had not beamed as brightly since. Seth had tried to reason with himself that perhaps it had been affected by the water, but deep in his gut he knew the truth. The more Seth tried to hide the truth, the dimmer the light would get, until he could be in danger of losing his guide for good.

Seth paused his search for firewood and held up the lantern directly in front of his face. “Alright,” Seth said out loud, “as soon as I get back to the camp, I’ll tell them everything. Even if they won’t believe me.”

As if in response, the lantern’s light suddenly flashed across Seth’s vision, momentarily blinding him and sending small flashing colors across his eyes. “Gah!” said Seth, stepping back and nearly losing his grip on the lantern. When his vision returned to normal, Seth saw that the narrow beam of light was focused on a small bundle of dry sticks on the forest floor. To Seth’s delight, the sticks appeared perfect for taking back to the camp for firewood.

Seth set the lantern down on a nearby stump, but as he moved the lantern, the narrow beam of light stayed fixed on the bundle of sticks. As Seth bent down to pick up the sticks, he noticed that one of them was in fact a small wooden flute. After picking up the bundle, the beam of light from the lantern shifted, so that it was now pointing in the direction of the camp.

“Curious,” said Seth. “I suppose it’s time for me to head back.”

***

Tarun had finished setting up camp and sat on a large boulder as he waited for Seth to return with firewood. In all honesty, he didn’t need the firewood. He and Shon had a small reserve of small firewood in the wagon that they kept dry in case of rainy nights. When Seth hadn’t returned before sundown, Tarun had decided to start their fire with some of that reserve so he could use its light to finish putting up the tents.

But although the extra firewood wasn’t essential, it would be appreciated, and what Tarun appreciated even more was the opportunity to collect his thoughts without Seth nearby. Tarun’s first instinct was to trust this new stranger, but he had no evidence to back up the idea that Seth was trustworthy, and Tarun wanted to see if his favorable first impression still held up while he was away.

When Tarun had asked Shon about what he thought of Seth, the wizard had furrowed his brow before responding. Tarun had realized this was usually an indication that Shon was still making up his mind while answering. Several times, Shon inhaled and shifted his weight as if he were about to speak, but then stopped after opening his mouth.

At length, Shon said, “From what I’ve been able to sense from his mind, he certainly doesn’t seem to mean us any harm. If anything, it’s just the opposite. That’s what has me confused and a little worried.”

“What do you mean?” Tarun asked. “You’re worried that he doesn’t want to hurt us?”

“He’s known us for less than a day,” Shon said, “yet he seems so eager to help us, it doesn’t make sense to me. Why was he so quick to ask to join us? And how in the world was he able to heal your arm so quickly like that?”

“Perhaps he is a healer like that woman Tam who nursed me back to health when I came to Life’s Edge,” said Tarun.

“Tam is a gifted healer,” said Shon, “but she mostly uses natural remedies like herbs, salves, and bandages. I know she keeps a few magical potions on hand, but nothing that could mend an injury as quickly as what Seth did. I’ve only heard of healing magic that potent in old stories. That was unbelievable. How do you feel, anyway?”

Tarun shrugged. “I don’t really know yet,” he said. “My arm is still tender, but it doesn’t burn and sting as bad as before. Mostly I notice that I’m not as furious as before. I mean, I’m still angry when I think about Krall and the others, and I can feel that rage kind of bubbling under my skin all the time, but it’s not making me crazy like it was before. It’s as if my head was stuck inside a beehive and I couldn’t even think with all the buzzing and stinging. And then he pulled the hive off my head. Now it’s like there’s still a few bees buzzing around my head, but nothing like before. Does that make any sense?”

“Not really,” Shon admitted. “But I have noticed a huge change in your mood and behavior since this morning, and I’m glad you’re feeling so much better. I suppose I should be willing to show Seth some gratitude for…” Shon’s voice trailed off as his attention shifted to the dark woods outside of the firelight.

“Is everything alright?” Tarun asked.

Shon stepped towards Tarun and lowered his voice. “Do you hear those whispers coming from over there?” Shon asked, pointing to a clearing to their right.

Tarun was silent for a moment before responding. “I don’t hear anything,” he said. “Perhaps you are hearing the thoughts of someone in the woods. Is it Seth’s thoughts?”

“Definitely not Seth,” said Shon. “I can’t tell who the voices are or what they’re saying, but I get the impression they aren’t friendly.”

“On the contrary,” said a voice from the darkness, “I’m probably the most friendly person you could ever meet in these woods. In fact, I’ve come to offer both of you a most hospitable invitation.”

The voice was cold and sharp, and yet it seemed to have a hint of secret amusement. Tarun felt a chill on his injured arm, and the buzzing in his mind began to return. Something felt very wrong.

“Tarun,” Shon whispered, “whoever that is, he’s not the source of the whispering I was hearing. Those voices aren’t in front of us anymore. Their moving to surround us.”

“Who are you and what do you want?” Tarun shouted into the darkness. “Show yourself!”

A thin pale figure stepped into the dim firelight, the flickering shadows accentuating his high cheekbones and sharp features. The stranger stepped so lightly that he nearly seemed to be floating just above the ground. “I am merely a humble servant,” said the stranger. “My name is Laronius, and I’ve come to offer you an invitation that I don’t think you’ll want to turn down.”

Seth
Art by Ryan Salway

 

Laronius felt a burning itch grow on the ring finger of his right hand, and he knew his master was summoning him. Laronius stood perfectly still in the dark corridor as the ring on his itching finger glowed brighter and the burning sensation intensified. As the pain in his finger spread up through his hand, causing his arm to tremble, Laronius silently laughed at his own private joke.

It occurred to Laronius that if he still had any bodily fluids, he would probably be sweating from the exertion. Laronius grimaced at the thought. He had expected that there would be aspects of his old life that he would miss after transforming into what he had become, but he was surprised that it was not the aspects he had thought of that he missed the most. Indeed, sacrifices like having no heartbeat and not seeing the sunshine were hardly burdens at all, though Laronius had assumed they would be the most intolerable.

Laronius found that it was the small things he missed that bothered him the most. He found that dust was nearly unbearable now that he didn’t have tears to flush out his eyes or mucus to protect his nose. And while he was not truly thirsty, he found that his lips and tongue felt strange and rubbery without any saliva, and it was nearly impossible to whistle.

He disliked the way that even water beaded up and rolled off his skin whenever he tried to bathe himself or wash his hands. The only liquid that gave him any sensation or satisfaction at all was the blood of other living beings. Though he supposed that his new obsession with blood was all as intended, considering the curse he had volunteered to take upon himself.

Laronius did not regret his decision, however unpleasant some of the drawbacks. He told himself over and over again that the power he had gained through his transformation had more than made up for anything he had lost. And if his plans continued to their full fruition, then it would all be worth a thousand times more.

Laronius looked down at his hand, breathing hard. Now instead of trembling, his hand was twisted and bent in a disturbing contortion, and his joints had begun to seize up. With grim satisfaction Laronius threw his dark cape over his right arm and began walking in the direction where his master was summoning him. It was not the longest that Laronius had resisted his master’s call, but he had endured the time rather easily, and he was pleased with his progress.

As Laronius walked in the direction of his master, the pain in his right hand and arm subsided, and he was able to relax and flex his fingers again. Continuing at a brisk pace, Laronius began forming an excuse for his master in case he was questioned on what had taken him so long. Of course Laronius would have to think of an excuse that was not only reasonably justified, but also not an actual lie. Oh, how Laronius wished he could lie to his master, but while he was strong enough to get away with half-truths and innuendo, an outright lie was not within his power. Not yet, anyway.

Despite his seething hatred for Vdekshi, Laronius derived an immense amount of pleasure and pride in his service of the necromancer. Every grin and sideways compliment that Laronius gave in his master’s service was proof to Laronius of how far he had come since his transformation. As he continued walking he smiled in satisfaction at himself for developing the talent to hate someone and smile at them at the same time.

It had not always been this way for Laronius. His first and most cruel master had been his emotions. Before he was ruled by Vdekshi, Laronius had been ruled by passion and impulses that had often betrayed him and set him on the run. It was in one of these moments of desperation that he had first entered Vdekshi’s fortress. But it was not Vdekshi himself that had lured him there. Laronius had his true master to thank for that.

At the thought of his other master, Laronius experienced an intense feeling of nausea and dizziness as the entire corridor in which he walked began to shift and bend unnaturally. The feeling was so intense and disorienting that he had to stop and close his eyes until the room stopped twisting. Laronius knew it was a warning. The more time he spent thinking about his other master, the more likely that Laronius would slip up and reveal something to Vdekshi before the time was right, ruining his plans.

But their plans were already in jeopardy, Laronius thought to himself as the smile faded from his face. All of their careful planning, all of Laronius’ blank smiles and hollow service would mean nothing if what he had learned about Krall’s old traveling companions was true. If they managed to reach Vdekshi it could ruin everything. But how could Laronius stop them? They were already getting dangerously close, and Vdekshi was determined to meet them. “What do I do?” Laronius whispered, his hand beginning to tremble again.

Smile. Speak.

The answer was accompanied by the same nausea and dizziness he had experienced only a moment earlier, and Laronius knew he dare not doubt it. Besides, it was the same command he had received every time from his other master, and following those directions had paid off well so far. Laronius forced his wide grin back on to his face and repeated to himself, “Smile. Speak.”

As the door to Vdekshi’s chamber came into view, Laronius thought of all the times in the past he had followed the order to smile and speak to Vdekshi. At first he hadn’t known what he would say, but somehow the words always came to him before long. Even in the early days of his service when Laronius was so afraid of Vdekshi and his power, he had learned that his words had power over his master. After so many years of practice, Laronius had found that most of the time he could now flatter and goad Vdekshi without even really trying. But even on a night like tonight when his bravado was waning, he would succeed if he would just smile and speak. The thought made Laronius’ smile return in earnest.

Laronius opened the door to Vdekshi’s chamber and stepped inside. Vdekshi turned his head to watch Laronius enter. The large and powerful necromancer stomped one of his hooves and glared at him, obviously displeased. Laronius regarded his master, smiled, and then he spoke.

***

“Good evening,” Laronius said in his usual impossibly subservient voice. “You have summoned me, Master. How may I serve you?”

“What took you so long to get here?” Vdekshi snapped. He did not like losing his temper in front of any of his servants, especially Laronius, but he was short on patience and Laronius had a knack for testing his.

“I’ve been doing as you commanded me, Master,” Laronius replied, tilting his head a bit as if in bewilderment. “I have been organizing my fellow servants to gather information about the strangers who were Krall’s former companions. Was that not what you charged me to do?”

Vdekshi pounded a heavy fist on the wooden table in front of him, causing glass beakers and vials to rattle and their contents to slosh. He found it infuriating the way that Laronius could agree with someone and make them feel like a fool at the same time. “Your ring should have summoned you here several minutes ago,” Vdekshi said through clenched teeth. “Even coming from the dungeons, it should not have taken you so long to arrive. Did you travel into the forest without my leave?”

“Of course not,” said Laronius. A tone of surprise rose in his voice, though his smile remained plastered across his face. “Master,” said Laronius stepping forward, “you seem quite agitated. Do you need me to go down to the dungeon and bring back a supplement for you? Or perhaps you would like to continue our experiment with my treatments for your condition?”

“I’m not sure how many more of those treatments I can survive,” Vdekshi replied. The last time Laronius had used his sanguimancy to treat Vdekshi, it had indeed calmed him down, but it had also left him a drooling and quivering mess on the floor.

“Now Master,” said Laronius, “you know that all experiments have their setbacks. In fact, I don’t think there’s anyone who knows that better than you.”

“Enough,” Vdekshi said, waving a large and hairy hand in front of him. He could tell that continuing to interrogate Laronius would be more exhausting than it would be useful. “Tell me what news you and your fellow servants have gathered about these strangers so far.”

“Well you have to keep in mind that you’ve only given me a few rather timid spirits to work with,” Laronius began. “I try to bring you only reliable information, and I’m afraid the intelligence of those spirits is as unsubstantial as they are.” Laronius paused to laugh at his own little joke.

“Have they entered my land yet?” asked Vdekshi, casting a sharp look at Laronius.

The smile on Laronius’ face flickered for a fraction of a moment. “What, Master?” he asked.

Vdekshi held up an amulet that hung around his neck with a bright red jewel in the center. “Laronius, I order you to give me a direct and honest answer to my question. Have the strangers you’re tracking entered the borders of my land yet?”

Laronius looked away and instinctively placed his left hand over his right ring finger, visibly shaken. “Yes Master,” he said. “Your spies report the strangers entered your territory earlier today, before sunset.”

“Excellent,” said Vdekshi. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it Laronius? You are capable of giving me the answer I want from time to time.” Vdekshi did not enjoy cruelty, but he had learned that it was important from time to time to remind Laronius exactly who was in charge.

“I’m afraid I may have to give you one piece of news you don’t want,” said Laronius, beginning to regain his composure. “It seems that the two strangers were joined by someone else shortly before they crossed the borders into our territory. Someone we know nothing about.”

“Why should that bother me?” asked Vdekshi. “Did the spirits report something troubling about this third stranger?”

“That’s just it, Master,” said Laronius, the corners of his lips curling back into a smile. “Your spies would give no report at all of this third stranger. No description, no eavesdropped conversations, not even a name. It was as if they couldn’t understand what was in front of them.”

“That is very curious,” said Vdekshi, “though not necessarily cause for alarm. We will need to watch the situation with this third stranger carefully.”

“Master,” Laronius said, stepping closer and kneeling before Vdekshi, “with your permission, I would like to take some of your more powerful servants and observe all three strangers directly. I can only learn so much from lowly spirits. I fear this third stranger could disrupt your plans for the other two.”

“That cannot happen!” shouted Vdekshi, his fist rattling the table in front of him again. Steadying himself, he turned again to Laronius. “So much depends on this,” he said. “Krall’s former companions may be the key to finding the answer we’ve been seeking for years. Can’t you feel that the answer is finally getting close? No, we cannot let anything interfere with our plans.”

Vdekshi stared at the table in front of him for a long time, as if transfixed by the bubbling and steaming contents of the many jars and tubes. “Alright Laronius,” Vdekshi said at last. “You have my leave to track them personally, and if an ideal opportunity presents itself you may approach them and invite them here. But don’t take anything more powerful than a couple of phantoms with you. After all, we don’t want to scare them off.”

“As you wish, Master,” said Laronius. “I’ll gather my fellow servants and we will depart immediately.”

Laronius strode towards the hallway, but suddenly stopped in the doorway and turned around. “Master,” said Laronius, “the thought just occurred to me that the strangers are not yet very far into our territory. What should I do if they try to escape out of the borders of your land?”

“You cannot allow that to happen, Laronius,” said Vdekshi. “You must ensure that Krall’s old companions stay within our borders, by any means necessary.”

Laronius bowed low, and then turned again to exit the door. He smiled, and then he spoke. “As you wish,” he said. “By any means necessary.”

Vdekshi
Art by Ryan Salway

“What am I doing here?” Shon silently asked himself for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He walked along at the same slow and steady pace as the green wagon next to him, rubbing his temples and focusing on the rhythmic sounds of the squeaking and jostling of the wagon wheels as the two large tauroks in front pulled it onward. Shon hadn’t been very impressed with the stocky beasts the first time he saw them, but in the last few weeks he had come to appreciate the company of the steady, thick-skinned animals. Despite the tauroks’ dim intelligence, or perhaps because of it, they had remained constant and dependable after the traumatic events of the last month, and Shon was grateful to have something so steadfast to rely on.

Shon looked at the tauroks moving along, quietly chewing on the leaves and grass they would occasionally scoop up with their bony tusks. Shon wondered if they had any idea that their former owners had died painful and violent deaths just a few weeks before. Even if they did realize it, would they even care?

Shon had always been very proud of his bright and talented mind. Though he often felt self-conscious about his thin build and completely bald head, he knew that his real strength lay in his cleverness and the magic abilities that allowed him to hear and influence the thoughts of others. Shon often thought that he could live with any physical limitation, but he could never endure an existence of ignorance. Looking at the blissfully mindless tauroks though, Shon wished for the first time that he could will himself into a state of numb stupidity.

As if in protest against his wishes for a mental sedative, the pain in Shon’s mind increased from a dull throbbing in the background to a cutting sting at the front of his consciousness. Shon stumbled slightly as he winced, and held on tightly to the staff in his hands for support. He had been incredibly grateful for the staff named Stick his uncle had loaned him, especially during the last few weeks. While carrying Stick increased the range and clarity of Shon’s magical abilities, he found that it also gave him greater control over those abilities, including managing his headache.

Shon had tried to reason with himself that the headache was the result of the changing weather. After all, he had lived most of his life in the desert town of Life’s Edge with his uncle Grodin, and could not remember experiencing an autumn as chilly as the one settling in the forest around him. But when he was honest with himself, Shon had to admit that the headache had started long before the autumn weather had set in. It had begun the day that the dragon had attacked the town of Alderfold.

Just thinking about the enormous black and purple mother dragon made Shon’s head throb. Shon had somehow used the magic in his mind to defeat the poisonous dragon, though he had no idea how, and he was afraid that the effort had somehow broken something inside him.

Shon had wanted to confide his fears in his best friend and traveling companion, Tarun, but couldn’t. As badly as Shon’s mind had been hurt that day, he was afraid that the damage to Tarun was far greater. Tarun had been with Krall, Solimar, and Piggy when they had been killed by the mother dragon’s young brood, and he was the sole survivor of that terrible encounter. Shon found it hard to believe that the three dragon hunters were really gone, but he found it even harder to believe how much the experience had changed his friend.

Ever since he met Tarun, he had always seemed so… alive. Even though Tarun had no memories at all when he had stumbled into Life’s Edge, he had always been incredibly eager to learn, to do, and to move. So much of what Shon had experienced in the last several months had been in large part to Tarun’s initiative. It had been Tarun’s need to move on and leave Life’s Edge that had given Shon the push he needed to begin the search for his missing parents, and Tarun had agreed to join him.

But their search had gotten wildly off track. After locating the Soul Trees that were magically tied to Shon’s parents, he and Tarun had quickly hit a dead end. Shon’s hope had then shifted to Krall and the other dragon hunters when they offered to help Shon track down his parents in exchange for his and Tarun’s service in hunting the mother dragon. But that hope had died nearly a month ago along with the dragon hunters.

“What am I doing here?” Shon asked himself for the hundred and first time. The dragon hunters may have died, but at least Shon had learned some valuable tracking skills during his time with them. He still found himself demonstrating skills and habits that he hadn’t realized he’d mentally picked up during his time alone with the elf Solimar. Why didn’t he head back to his parents’ Soul Trees and begin tracking them down himself?

For the first couple of weeks after they had left Alderfold, Shon told himself that he had stayed with Tarun because his friend needed him more than ever. After his injuries and trauma at the hands of the young dragons, Tarun hadn’t been thinking clearly or acting like himself. He seemed to be in a constant state of tension, with a furious rage constantly bubbling beneath the surface. To make matters worse, he seemed convinced that his next course of action absolutely had to be defeating Krall’s old master, a powerful necromancer named Vdekshi.

Was Shon really sticking around for his friend’s sake though? Tarun had been spending more and more time by himself. He would often leave for hours at a time with Solimar’s bow and arrows to hunt deer or other animals for their meals. Just that afternoon, Tarun had run ahead, saying that he would scout out a suitable location for their campsite later in the evening, and he hadn’t returned yet.

Whether he continued on out of loyalty for Tarun or some other unknown motivation, Shon wasn’t sure. Once again he felt a sensation that there was something tugging his actions just outside of his consciousness, but this time Shon decided that he needed to figure out what it was, or he would eventually end up as unstable as Tarun had become.

While Shon was walking along, lost in thought, he found himself unintentionally picking up the thoughts of others nearby. Shon’s first reaction was surprise at the realization that there was anyone within a mile of his remote location, but his surprise turned into concern as he realized that the thoughts he was sensing were frightened and defensive. Someone was being attacked and needed help.

Shon looked around to see if he could spot any sign of Tarun returning soon. His friend was strong and had been training with Krall the orc before his death to become a capable fighter. Shon felt anxious about running into danger without him. Shon couldn’t see or sense Tarun anywhere nearby, but he did sense the thoughts he had picked up before become more panicked.

For just a moment, Shon looked at the two tauroks pulling the wagon and wondered if it wouldn’t just be better for him to continue plodding along like them as if nothing was the matter. Then shaking his head, he reminded himself that he was no dim-witted animal, and he was never any good at playing dumb. Grasping Stick firmly with both hands, Shon issued the message in all directions, Tarun, come back! I need you! He then turned sharply to face the direction that the frightened thoughts were coming from, and left the path to go running into the woods.

***

As Shon moved through the forest, he tried to clear his thoughts and allow himself to travel the smooth, graceful way that he had been able to when he had traveled with Solimar and been influenced by the elf’s thoughts. He couldn’t match Solimar’s movements like he had when they were actually travelling together, but was certainly less clumsy than he had been when he left Life’s Edge with Tarun months ago. As he continued running over roots and rocks without tripping, Shon was surprised at how quickly he had been able to pick up the pattern of movement again.

Shon realized that this was the first time he had left the road and the wagon and allowed himself to just run through the woods since the day the dragon hunters had died. He had never enjoyed running or any other physical exertion much before, but during his time with Solimar, Shon had found that it became a valuable tool in clearing his mind and focusing his thoughts. A feeling of great sadness and loneliness set in as Shon started to realize how much he would miss Solimar. Shon did not try to push the feeling away, but he didn’t allow himself to focus on it either, as he knew that Solimar would have berated him harshly for letting such thoughts interfere with his movements.

As the grief washed over Shon, he felt a glimmer of insight flutter past his consciousness. He could vaguely tell that it had something to do with Tarun, his own grief, the uncharacteristic rage that was driving Tarun toward revenge against the necromancer, and Shon’s apprehension about the doomed path they were on. Shon shifted his thoughts to try and capture the insight, but as soon as he did it zipped away, leaving Shon unable to put the different pieces together. No sooner had Shon allowed himself to be distracted by the thought than he found himself tripping on a root, and sprawling forward on the ground.

Shon groaned and rolled to his side as he tried to brush the dirt and debris from his hands and clothes. The magical red cloak his father had left him seemed unaffected by the fall, but his pants were very dirty and had a small hole in one knee. Shon began to scold himself for his foolishness, but stopped abruptly when he heard raised voices coming from a few feet away.

“Hurry up and give us the rest!” said a loud, harsh voice. “Do it now! Or you’re gonna be sorry!”

“I already told you I would give you the rabbit,” said another voice. The second voice sounded calmer, but Shon could tell it had an edge of nervousness to it. “You and your friends are obviously very hungry and I can always get another one. I’m quite handy with this sling of mine.”

“You put your hand anywhere near that sling and I’ll run you through!” shouted the first voice. “And what do you mean ‘give’ us the rabbit? You see this sword? This sword means we take what we want. And I told you we want your clothes and that fancy stick of yours.”

Shon quietly crawled on his hands and knees towards the voices and came to the edge of a clearing. Through the leaves, Shon could see a young man with light brown hair probably no more than five years older than Shon himself. He wore simple, but sturdy looking traveling clothes and carried what looked like an intricately carved walking stick. Surrounding the young man were three men with scraggly beards and long hair, dressed in dirty and threadbare clothes. One man was holding an axe, another was holding a spear, and the man between them was holding a sword. The weapons all looked rusted around the edges, and by the way the men were holding them, Shon had the impression that they had only recently been acquired. Shon could sense fear emanating from all four individuals.

“Take the rabbit,” said the young man with light brown hair. He was gesturing to a skinned and roasted rabbit cooking over a small campfire. “You and your friends will feel better after you’ve had something to eat. I can’t spare the clothes, because they’re the only ones I have.” Though Shon could tell the young man was obviously frightened, his expression was calm and even friendly.

“And the stick?” said the man holding the sword. “I’ll bet I could get a pretty good trade for something as pretty as that.”

“The stick is not available,” said the young man, his expression suddenly turning serious. “You would have to kill me first.”

At the word “kill,” Shon could sense the fear in the three men turn to panic, and then grim determination. The men were desperate, and they were angry that the robbery was not going to plan. While there was little outward change in the men, Shon could sense that inside their minds, they were resolving themselves to kill another person to get what they wanted, probably for the first time in their lives.

Realizing he had no time to think before disaster struck, Shon jumped to his feet and burst through the trees into the clearing. “Do I smell roast rabbit?” Shon asked loudly as all four men turned to look at him. “I sure hope so, because it smells delicious.” While the three men with weapons turned their attention to Shon, the young man with light brown hair began to slowly back away from them.

“Who are you?” shouted the man holding the spear.

“Me?” said Shon. “Well, I’m just an old friend of, uh…”

“Seth,” said the young man.

“Right,” said Shon. “You see, me and Seth are old buddies. We go way back!”

“I think you’re lying,” said the man with the sword.

“Well yes,” said Shon, watching Seth inch farther away from the men, “I suppose I am. But on the bright side, hopefully the lie was distracting enough to snap you out of murdering someone in broad daylight just to get a fancy stick.”

“Actually,” said the man with the sword walking towards Shon, “I’ll bet we could get a lot more for that fancy red cape of yours than that stupid stick anyway.”

The three men began advancing quickly, and Shon reacted by casting a spell he had taught himself a couple of months ago that used his mental magic to redirect the thoughts of others back at themselves, but with a slight delay that made it difficult to speak or act clearly. At first the spell produced the desired effect of making the men stumble and become confused, but Shon realized that something was wrong when he felt a surge of rage build among the three men.

“He’s got magic!” shouted the man holding the axe. “I’ll bet he’s one of the lackeys of that death wizard that’s been ruining the whole region!”

“Well we may not be able to kill his master,” said the man with the sword, with a murderous glint in his eye, “but we can at least show this scum what happens to someone who messes with our home and families. Get him!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Shon could see Seth pick up a stone to put in his sling. But as the three men ran towards him, Shon could tell that even if his aim was good, there would be no way for him to loose a stone before the men got to him. Shon raised his hands in the air at the men and shouted, “Wait, stop! I don’t work for any death wizard!” but he could tell the men would not hear him.

Suddenly there was a yell and a loud crash of branches behind him, and a large figure rushed past from behind Shon. The man with the axe had already been thrown through the air and crashed into a tree before Shon realized that it was Tarun that had come crashing onto the scene.

Tarun had always been unusually strong, but Shon couldn’t believe how quickly and brutally he dealt with Shon’s attackers. The man with the spear rushed at Tarun, but at the last moment Tarun grabbed the spear and yanked it from the man’s hands. Tarun then snapped the shaft of the spear in half before kicking the man in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him.

“Demons and warlocks!” shouted the man with the sword, rushing at Shon again. “Die!” The man was only one step away from Shon when Tarun tackled him.

“You will not hurt my friend!” screamed Tarun as he lifted the man into the air by his neck. Despite how effortless the exertion looked, Shon could tell that the burst of strength and speed was taking a toll on Tarun. The injury on Tarun’s forearm, which hadn’t healed properly, had opened back up and was starting to bleed again. Tarun had not told Shon how he had gotten the injury, but with the blotched and swollen appearance of the wound, it made Shon worry about its seriousness.

“Tarun, you can put him down now,” Shon said. “His friends are running off, and it looks like he can’t breathe. I’m safe now.” Shon could tell from the intense and furious expression on Tarun’s face the he hadn’t heard a word he had said. “Tarun!” he shouted. “Enough!”

Suddenly a rock came zipping through the air and hit Tarun in the shoulder. Shon turned to see Seth already swinging another stone around in his sling. “That was a warning,” said Seth. “I really don’t want to have to aim the next one at your head. These rocks can be pretty dangerous when they move fast.”

Tarun turned his face towards Seth, and Shon could tell he had finally gotten Tarun’s attention, though he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing at the moment.

“Look, these guys attacked me and your friend here, but that doesn’t mean they deserve to die,” said Seth, his voice becoming gentler. “They’re just poor farmers who are desperate because of what’s happening around here. I’m sure they all learned their lesson today about robbing the innocent to get by. Just let him go.”

Tarun dropped the man to the ground, who began coughing and sputtering before quickly running away. Tarun then stalked toward Seth, and for a moment Shon was afraid that Tarun would either punch or choke him. But a moment before Tarun could lay a hand on him, Seth stepped forward, put his hand on Tarun’s injured arm and quietly said the word, “Almetesi.” Instantly, there was a blinding light under Seth’s hand, and for the first time in weeks Shon could sense the rage inside Tarun start to subside.

When Seth took his hand away, the open wound had been closed and all that was left was a thick purple scar. “What was that?” Tarun asked, feeling somewhat lightheaded.

“Just a word,” said Seth. “In our language it roughly translates to ‘peace’ or ‘mend.’ Do you feel any better?”

Tarun nodded and Shon stepped forward to inspect the freshly healed wound. “That’s quite an impressive bit of magic,” Shon said. “We’ve been bandaging that injury for weeks and couldn’t get it to stay closed.”

Shon extended a hand towards the young man. “I guess we’re lucky we bumped into each other,” said Shon. “What did you say your name was again?”

“I am Seth the IV,” said Seth, shaking Shon’s extended hand. “And luck had nothing to do with it.”

Roff sat up in the darkness feeling lightheaded and confused. His body felt stiff, and he realized he had been lying awkwardly on a stone floor. Where was he? It was not the first time that Roff had ever woken up in unfamiliar surroundings, but it always left him feeling angry. As a mercenary, he was accustomed to setting the terms of a confrontation, and he didn’t like the idea of someone having an advantage over him.

He patted his hands on his vest and pants. He could still feel his small pouch of coins on the inside of his vest pocket, so he hadn’t been robbed. But his sword, dagger, and crossbow were gone. Whoever had disarmed him had even managed to find the small carving knife he kept in the inside of his left boot.

As Roff’s eyes adjusted to the dim light of his surroundings, he could see that a few feet in front of him was a wall of ornate, but solid looking metal bars. Past the bars there was a stone archway leading to a hallway with a faint blue light. Down the hallway, Roff thought he could hear sounds of howling and screaming, but it may have just been some unseen draft playing tricks on his mind.

Roff suspected he was in some kind of prison, but he didn’t remember doing anything recently that would have gotten him arrested. At least nothing that anyone else would know about. But what could he remember? The first thing that came to his mind was the girl with the strange piercings and tattoos. What was her name? Trish? Tresh?

Roff felt a sharp pain in his temples and his head began to swim as he tried to recall the details of his encounter with the girl. He remembered she was pretty, but he couldn’t remember exactly what she had looked like. She had been dancing alone in the tavern and invited him to have a drink. She had been very interested in him. Or at least she had been very interested in the job that brought him to this part of the country. Had they talked about anything else?

There was something about the girl’s dancing that Roff had liked a lot. Even now sitting on the hard stone floor his heart started to pound as he thought of the way she had moved her hands and hips in rhythm with her feet. It was like she had put a spell on him. Too late, Roff realized that was probably exactly what she had been doing.

She had asked him to come with her on a walk in the moonlight. Roff had been more than happy to follow to somewhere more private than the tavern. Except it hadn’t been. Soon after they had gotten out of sight of the tavern, Roff had tried to wrap his arms around the girl in an embrace, and that’s when someone else had showed up.

It was clear from the grin on the man’s face that he wasn’t the girl’s husband or father, but he did seem to know her. Was he perhaps her brother? No, his skin had been much paler than the girl’s. Why did the pale stranger look so happy to see Roff? His unnerving grin was the last thing that Roff remembered seeing before waking up on the cold stone floor.

Anger began to boil up inside Roff and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. He grabbed the metal bars in front of him and tried shaking, but they held firm. He grunted and his muscles rippled as he pulled and struggled against the bars. He rammed his shoulder into them, but they would not budge. He kicked hard, imagining what he would do to the young woman if he ever saw her again. “I’ll get you, you stinkin’ little witch!” yelled Roff.

“You’d better save your strength,” said a deep voice behind him.

Roff spun around, realizing for the first time that the room was much larger than the dim light from the hallway had revealed. Out of instinct he reached for his sword, but then quietly cursed as he remembered it wasn’t on his belt. Roff brought up both fists menacingly and shouted, “Who’s there?”

“Calm down,” said the voice from the shadows. “I’m not going to attack you.”

“Are you a prisoner here too?” asked Roff, his fists still raised.

“I suppose you could say that,” said the voice, very calmly. “I have been here for a very long time. Why don’t you sit down on that bench over there and we can talk?”

“I think I’ll stand,” said Roff. “Why don’t you come here where I can see you instead of sneaking around in the shadows?”

“I’d be happy to come over,” said the voice. “It’s just that humans tend to get… agitated… when they see me before we get to know one another. I thought it would help you stay calm if we spoke a little first.”

“You mean you’re not even human?” shouted Roff. “Alright, that’s it! You step out where I can see you now, and no sudden moves!”

“I told you to calm down,” said the voice in a tone that was soft but firm. “There’s no need to shout. I’m stepping forward now.”

Something hard and heavy hit the stone floor in the darkness, and then again, and again. Roff realized that the sounds were getting closer to him, and it dawned on him that what he was hearing was footsteps. His fists dropped and he backed up until his back hit against the metal bars behind him. The unearthly blue light from the hallway cast strange shadows as it passed through the ornate bars, and it took Roff a moment to clearly make out the large and hairy shape that was emerging from the shadows in front of him.

In front of Roff stood a black wooly minotaur that was twice his size. The minotaur was dressed in black robes with gold accents, and his hair was braided with several intricate ornaments that lightly tinkled when he walked. Rather than having the usual straight horns and long muzzle of a bull, this minotaur’s horns were curved close to his head, and his nose seemed pressed flat against his face. It occurred to Roff that the minotaur reminded him of a musk ox he had once killed while hunting in the icy north.

Roff slowly inched his way over to the bench in the other corner of the cell and sat down. “You’re a minotaur,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” said the minotaur. “And I’m glad to see you finally took my advice and calmed down.”

“Calm down?” said Roff, careful not to let his voice rise again. The last thing he needed was to be splattered against the walls of the cell. “You don’t talk like any minotaur I’ve ever met before. For that matter, I didn’t realize minotaurs could talk.”

“How many minotaurs have you met?” asked the minotaur.

“Well actually just you,” replied Roff. “Though I had a buddy once who claimed he and a few others once killed a minotaur that was terrorizing a village.” Roff then realized what he had said and hastily added, “Uh, no offense.”

“No need for apologies,” said the minotaur. “Unfortunately, most of my kind come by their reputation honestly. My people are something of an exception, however. We are called the Minovous. Or rather, we were when there were more of us. I’m afraid our brotherhood has become much smaller.”

“Brotherhood?” said Roff. “You some kind of priest or something? Your clothes remind me of a priest.”

“A monk,” the minotaur replied. “I once belonged to a monastery that was charged with protecting the world from a great evil.”

“No kidding,” said Roff. “Well maybe you can give me a few pointers for when I get out of here. I’ve been hired by some villagers to kill a guy they say is evil incarnate. Now I’m pretty good at bashing heads in, but if you’ve got any kind of holy mumbo jumbo that can help me out, I’d be happy to hear it.”

“Hired to kill, you say?” said the minotaur. “You are an assassin, then?”

“Do I look like the sneak around type?” asked Roff. “I like to think of myself as an adventurer for hire. Though I’ve been known to answer to being called a soldier of fortune or mercenary in a pinch.”

“I see,” said the minotaur. “And who is this evil incarnate you seek to kill?”

“Some kind of death wizard called Vdekshi,” said Roff. “Apparently the creep has been stealing corpses and scaring the locals for years. You ever heard of him?”

“Indeed,” said the minotaur. “We are currently in the dungeon beneath his fortress.”

Roff began muttering a string of profanity under his breath as he walked back over to the ornate bars. He grasped the metal bars again and began to throw his full weight against them, grunting and shouting as he did so.

“I think you should sit back down,” said the minotaur. “That isn’t doing any good, and you should save your strength.”

“Why?” asked Roff with a panicked look in his eyes. “Do you know a better way for me to use my strength to get us out? Come on, you said you’ve been here a long time. Any idea how I can escape?”

“It wouldn’t do any good,” said the minotaur. “Just sit down and try to relax. I think I’ve got an idea to help you be calm.”

“Calm? Relax?!” shouted Roff. “Do you know what the locals say about this guy, monk? They say if he catches you he experiments on you and drives you mad. Then, once you’re good and crazy he steals your soul and adds your dead body to his collection of undead slaves. Is that what you want, monk? You want to spend forever as a huge ugly skeleton or walking corpse?”

“I’ve heard the rumors,” said the minotaur. “But there is nothing you can do about that right now. If you don’t calm down soon you’re going to pass out again and then you’ll be worse off than when you arrived here.”

Roff began pacing back and forth in his cell, his breathing became shallow and his head started swimming again. Then in the darkness he heard a low mild rumble. The sound wasn’t terribly loud, but he could feel his insides vibrate as the pitch subtly rose and fell. The sound seemed to resonate from his head down to his knees. When Roff turned around he saw that the minotaur’s eyes were closed and the sound was coming from deep within the minotaur’s throat. Roff took a deep breath and sat down on the bench again, much of his panic having been shaken loose by the vibrations.

“That was an ancient chant from my old monastery,” said the minotaur. “The whole mountain would shake when we sang together, and he would help keep us calm and focused when the whispers would start.”

“Whispers?” asked Roff.

Just then, Roff saw shadows moving across the walls of the cell and realized that someone was walking towards them from the hallway. A moment later, Roff saw the tall pale figure that had been with the young woman in the woods when he had been captured.

“You!” shouted Roff, jumping to his feet, all thoughts of calm and relaxation rushing from his mind. “I’ll kill you!”

“Not likely,” sneered the pale man. He flashed his wicked grin at Roff, sending him into another rage.

“Your timing is as horrid as ever, Laronius,” said the minotaur, with a great sigh. “I believe I clearly stated I did not want to be disturbed.”

“My apologies, Lord Vdekshi,” said Laronius. “You also ordered me to come to you at once if I had any news of Krall’s traveling companions. Since I do have news, you might understand how I was conflicted with my orders.”

Roff whipped around to look at the minotaur in the pale blue light. When he had heard of the necromancer Vdekshi, he had imagined a frail sickly old man cowering pathetically behind his undead slaves for protection. He assumed that if he could somehow get past the skeletons and zombies that it would be a simple task to dispatch the death wizard. Seeing the massive minotaur in front of him, and knowing he had already stated his intentions of trying to kill him, Roff’s knees buckled and he sank to the floor.

“Spare me your apologies, Laronius,” said Vdekshi. “You always manage to find the most creative ways to disobey and undermine me. I hope you know you’ve ruined a perfectly good conversation.”

“Personally, I liked him better when he was unconscious,” said Laronius in a mock whisper.

“Enough,” said Vdekshi. “I’m growing impatient, and I’m starting to lose my temper. You said you have news of Krall’s former companions, so share it. If they have any idea how Krall’s body could have two of those quills in his leg, but his blood wasn’t infected, I need to know how. Have they crossed into our territory yet?”

“Your spies report they will be entering soon from the west,” said Laronius. “But there is a complication. That girl and her noisy band are back.”

Vdekshi growled and stood up. Roff noticed as the minotaur began to pace that he looked considerably more agitated than just a few minutes ago. “This report is taking too long, Laronius. Why should I care if the girl has returned?”

“She makes your errands more difficult for your servants,” said Laronius.

“More difficult for you, you mean,” snapped Vdekshi. He was now starting to stamp one of his great hooves.

“Am I not one of your servants?” asked Laronius. “Come master, just give the word and I’ll lead your legions to wipe out the brat and her little noisemakers.”

“There’s no reason for it,” said Vdekshi, panting and leaning against the bars of the cell. “We kill out of necessity, not because it makes our lives easier. Besides, she gives the locals hope. Take that away and soon they would leave and you would have to travel much farther on my errands. Leave her alone, Laronius. You are not to disobey me on this.”

“Of course, my lord,” said Laronius with feigned surprise. “You know my only desire is to serve you.”

“You know, Laronius,” said Vdekshi through heavy breathing, “with all of my other servants, I never know when they’re telling me the truth or lying. At least with you I always know you’re lying. AHH!”

Vdekshi suddenly grabbed his chest and fell to the ground. Roff didn’t know what was going on, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one. He rushed over to Vdekshi’s side and began feeling the pockets of his robes. Within a moment, he had found a long silver knife and held it between himself and the minotaur.

“I’m warning you!” Roff shouted to Laronius. “Let me out of this cell right now or I’ll cut your master’s throat. One way or another I’ll be getting out of this dungeon alive!”

Laronius let out a high and chilling laugh. “Hasn’t Lord Vdekshi already told you?” he said. “You’re a living dead man already!”

“Enough!” shouted Vdekshi, and Laronius fell silent. “I’ve told you how I feel about you laughing like that before someone dies. It’s no laughing matter.”

Roff kept his grip tightly on the silver knife in his hand. “What are you talking about?” he shouted. “I feel fine. How can I be dead already?”

“Calm down,” Vdekshi said. He was breathing more heavily than before, but was beginning to regain some of his earlier composure. “You are not actually dead yet. You see, Laronius may be despicable, but he is a very gifted sanguimancer.”

“A what?” asked Roff.

“A master of blood,” said Laronius. “A connoisseur of crimson. A patron of plasma. An artisan of arteries.”

“You’re a vampire!” shouted Roff, backing away once again.

“If you want to be so uncouth about it,” said Laronius, rolling his eyes. “The point is, one little taste, and someone’s blood becomes my plaything.”

Roff raised the silver blade and pointed it at Laronius. “Well you’ll get nowhere near me or my blood, demon!”

Laronius began to chuckle and shake his head. “You know,” he said, “it’s a good thing you were so much tastier than you are bright. I’ve already tasted your blood. You ever get a scab after getting injured? What am I saying? Look at you, of course you have. Well imagine having a scab in the middle of that brain rattling around in your head. I must admit it’s taken longer to kill you than I expected, but you should be dead any minute now.”

Roff grasped his head with his hands, trying to feel the scab that Laronius was talking about, seeing if he could somehow pick it off. “No!” he shouted, dropping the knife and kneeling next to Vdekshi. “Please, Lord Vdekshi, spare my life and I will serve you very well. I can even give you the names of the people who paid me to kill you.”

“I’ve already told you so many times to calm down,” said Vdekshi, panting. “You will serve me well. Being alive will just have nothing to do with it. And don’t worry about your death. Laronius may be cruel left to his own devices, but I’ve ordered him to make your death entirely painless. You might experience a light buzzing, but there will be no pain.”

“But why?” Roff asked, growing hysterically. “Couldn’t I serve you better if I were alive?”

“Roff, let me ask you a question,” said Vdekshi. “Is there any nobler act than giving one’s life for a cause you believe in?”

“How should I know?” asked Roff. “I’ve never had a cause I believed in, especially not whatever crackpot cause you’re asking me to die for!”

“To answer the question,” said Vdekshi, ignoring Roff’s response, “yes, there is a more noble act. When you’ve already given your own life, being willing to even give the lives of others. It’s a painful choice, but that’s the burden I’ve taken upon myself.”

Vdekshi got up and walked back into the shadows from which he had originally emerged. “But hopefully,” said Vdekshi’s voice from the shadows, “I feel that is a sacrifice that will soon be coming to an end.”

From within the darkness, Roff saw a sickly green light begin to grow. He looked through the darkness and saw Vdekshi in the light holding a long silver staff with a glowing green crystal at the top. Roff tried to scoot himself off the floor and back against the far walls of the cell.

“Please, I’ve told you,” Vdekshi panted. “Save your strength. I’m going to need it.” The glow of the green crystal intensified, Roff heard a strange buzzing sound, and then there was nothing but black.

Vdekshi
Art by Ryan Salway

Seth was having a terrible day, and so he reasoned he was having exactly the kind of day that he deserved. The stern and contemptuous expression of the Senior Acolyte in front of him was all that Seth needed to see to know how the conversation would end. Seth had come to this place seeking wisdom, purpose, and most of all, honor, but it was now clear to him that he would be leaving only with embarrassment and shame. Just like every other place his life had taken him.

The old man in front of Seth hardly moved at all beneath the thick, billowing white and gold robes that he wore. Seth considered this to be quite a testament to the man’s self-control considering how hot the day was becoming. The roof of the building in which Seth stood had disappeared more than a hundred years ago, and the light of the noonday sun grew hot on his light brown hair. If the heat or sunlight bothered the Senior Acolyte sitting in front of Seth, he gave no indication of it.

“Seth,” the old man said in a tone that sounded both bored and disgusted at the same time, “do you know precisely what you did wrong today? And don’t try to say, ‘everything.’ That answer may be correct, but it will not satisfy me.”

“Well, Senior Acolyte Pokriz,” Seth said in a low voice, “I believe I know what I did that has made you so angry.”

“I’ll remind you that in this sanctuary I am known as ‘Honorable Senior Acolyte Pokriz,’ Seth,” said the old man. “Of course, that’s an easy mistake to make for one as new to our sanctuary as you are. I assume it is also because of your inexperience that you fail to realize that one in a position such as myself does not become angry. So I will ask you again, do you know what you did wrong today? I expect a yes or no answer.”

Seth knew exactly what the man wanted to hear. He wanted Seth to tell him what he had done that had gotten him in trouble with the acolytes. But the Senior Acolyte hadn’t asked if he knew what he had done to get in trouble. He had asked if he knew what he had done wrong. Since Seth believed he had done nothing wrong, he could not give the old man the answer that he wanted without lying.

Seth stood quietly under the bright sunlight, trying to choose his response. He did not want any more humiliation or disgrace. He had come to this island for the very opposite. If he just told the Senior Acolyte what he wanted to hear, he might be able to get away with some demerits and a mild reprimand. If he told the truth, he would most likely be cast out by the end of the day. Seth gripped the intricately carved shillelagh in his right hand. As his finger passed over the notch on the walking stick left by his father, Seth knew it was never really a choice at all. He would speak nothing but the truth, come fire or flood.

“My patience is growing thin,” said the Honorable Senior Acolyte Pokriz. “Can you tell me what you did wrong?” He was now sitting forward in his high-backed chair. The chair itself was accented with gold paint, and attached to the back were two large wings made of wire and white goose feathers. Seth had thought that the man and his chair looked quite imposing the first time he had seen them a month ago, but now he began to see clearly. The gold paint was flaking off of the chair and feathers were falling out of the wings. The Senior Acolyte’s robes had looked grand and regal from a distance, but up close Seth could see that they were becoming threadbare and torn around the edges, and the insides of the collar and sleeves were filthy.

“No,” said Seth, raising his head. “I cannot tell you what I did wrong today.”

Senior Acolyte Pokriz frowned deeper than before. “That’s most disappointing, young man,” said Pokriz. “Despite your many other shortcomings, I was at least hoping to hear the truth from you. Very well, I shall read the accusations from the Junior Acolytes’ report.” The old man clapped his hands and a balding man came out from behind one of the nearby columns. The man was wearing robes similar in appearance to the Senior Acolyte’s, but less ornate.

The man handed a piece of parchment to Pokriz and bowed very low. “Here is our report, Most Honorable Senior Acolyte Pokriz,” said the man.

“Thank you, Junior Acolyte Lyktar,” said Pokriz, waiving a hand at the man. “That will be all.” Pokriz flattened and straightened the report several times until it seemed smoothed to his satisfaction. Seth had learned in the three weeks he had spent at the sanctuary that Pokriz was not fond of any wrinkles or blemishes on any object handed to him.

Pokriz picked up the report and addressed Seth in a grave tone, though he did not take his eyes off of the parchment. “Seth, you have been accused of blatant transgressions against The Devout Acolyte Brotherhood of the Celestial Guardians and the Sanctuary of Skatterr. Your association with our most elite brotherhood stands in jeopardy of termination and you will be forthwith banished from our midst unless you can answer these accusations to our satisfaction. Do you understand this, Seth?”

“Yes,” said Seth, staring straight ahead at the Senior Acolyte. “I understand.”

Pokriz kept his eyes fixed on the paper in front of him, not acknowledging Seth’s gaze. “Since you have refused to voluntarily confess your wrongdoings, I will read the accusations, and you will be given the opportunity to deny any which have been falsely brought against you. Silence will be considered a lack of denial and therefore an admission of accusation. Any attempts at deceit are forbidden, as you are reminded that you are standing in the once and future home of the most exalted and enduring of the original Immortals of this world, the glorious Celestial Guardians. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Seth. “I understand.”

“Seth,” said Pokriz, with interest creeping into his voice for the first time, “you stand accused of obstructing two junior acolytes, your superiors in this brotherhood, in their efforts to uphold the honor of the brotherhood and subdue a violent enemy of the Celestial Guardians. Do you deny this?”

Seth thought back to that morning when he and the two junior acolytes had encountered the “enemy” that Pokriz mentioned. He was an old man that many on the island called “Tipsy,” and Seth had met him before. From the large dent in Tipsy’s forehead, Seth had assumed the man was a former soldier with a wound that never healed properly. He was called Tipsy because most days he spent his time traveling back and forth across the main streets with a crooked walk that almost look like an off-rhythm dance, but this morning he hadn’t been dancing. He had been screaming at the clouds and anyone passing by about his dead wife and son, and how he had cried to all of the Immortals to save them, but none of them had answered him. Tipsy said they were worthless and false and dead.

When the two junior acolytes that Seth was with had heard the old man’s ranting, they cornered him and insisted that he must be mistaken in railing against all of the Immortals since that would include the most glorious Celestial Guardians. One of the junior acolytes had grabbed Tipsy’s arm and suggested he revise his statement. Tipsy had responded by stepping on the junior acolyte’s foot and spitting on his robes. Apparently that was enough to be considered “a violent enemy of the Celestial Guardians.”

When the two junior acolytes had first started beating the man, Seth couldn’t figure out what was going on. Though little was known about the ancient Immortals known as the Celestial Guardians, it was widely accepted that when they did roam the world of mortals long ago, they had been charged with the protection of the weak and oppressed. Why would the acolytes of the Celestial Guardians be beating a defenseless old man? Seth had wondered if perhaps Tipsy possessed some dangerous dark magic that the acolytes knew about that he did not.

As Seth saw Tipsy crouch on the ground with his arms trying to shield his head from the acolytes’ blows, he knew that there was no wicked magic at play, only wicked fools. Seth had used his shillelagh to strike the two acolytes from behind, drawing their attention and allowing Tipsy a chance to slip away.

“What is wrong with you?” one of the junior acolytes had yelled at Seth. “You were permitted to leave the sanctuary to assist us in our duties, not thwart them. Now that maniac has escaped, and will probably respect the glorious Celestial Guardians even less.”

“The old man is confused and overcome with grief,” Seth had said. “If he had spit on the Guardians themselves, they would still not have wanted brutality like that.”

“Do not presume that you know the will of the most glorious Celestial Guardians better than we,” the other junior acolyte had said. “Do not forget that you are still merely a novice acolyte, and by the time we’ve told the Senior Acolyte Pokriz about this, I expect you won’t even be that.”

Seth was pulled from his memories by the annoyed voice of Pokriz. “I will remind you only once that silence will be considered an admission of guilt,” said the Senior Acolyte. “Do you deny this accusation, Seth?”

“No,” said Seth. “I do not deny it.”

Pokriz cleared his throat and continued to read the report. “You also stand accused,” he said, “of defiling the consecrated robe of Skatterr that was entrusted to you. Do you deny this?”

Seth remembered how he had wandered the streets of the island for a time that day after the junior acolytes had run off to report his earlier transgression against the honor of the brotherhood. As he had walked along the streets, a cold breeze had blown in off the nearby sea and sent a shiver across Seth’s body. He had pulled tight around him the novice’s robe that he had woven a month ago in the sanctuary. Many of the acolytes had sneered at Seth for making the robe too thick, but he had been glad that morning for its warmth and protection from the cold salty air.

As he had walked and huddled his robe, Seth looked down a small alley between two houses and saw a little girl. The girl was dressed in dirty rags and was holding her hands close to the open window of a house, trying to feel some of the warm air from the fireplace without being seen by the occupants inside. The alley provided her some protection from the wind, but her thin arms and legs were totally exposed, and she was shivering.

Seth had walked over to the girl as quietly as possible to avoid drawing any attention, removed his robe, and draped it around the girl. The little girl had seemed frightened at first, but after Seth had produced a small biscuit from one of his pouches and offered it to the girl, she had rewarded him with a bright smile and a tight hug. Snuggled up on the ground inside the thick wool robe, the little girl had soon fallen asleep, with Seth sitting nearby and keeping watch.

Not long after, one of the junior acolytes had found Seth in the alley. A look of shock and disgust had crossed the acolyte’s face when he saw Seth’s robe covering the dirty little girl. “Novice Acolyte Seth, come with me at once,” he had said with upturned nose. “Honorable Senior Acolyte Pokriz has summoned you back to the sanctuary. But first, collect your robe. It’s getting filthy.”

“Keep your voice down,” Seth had said. “I’m coming.”

“And your robe?” the acolyte had asked.

“I think it’s doing more good where it is right now,” Seth had replied.

“It’s forbidden!” the acolyte had said indignantly. “I realize now that you may not care about the brotherhood after all, but we take these things very seriously.”

“Well,” Seth had said, “it just so happens that I take orphans shivering on the streets very seriously.”

Seth cleared his throat before responding to the man in front of him. “No, Honorable Senior Acolyte Pokriz,” said Seth. “I do not deny it.”

Pokriz put the report down on the desk in front of him. “Well then,” said the Senior Acolyte, “it seems there is just one accusation left to bring against you. I asked you only moments ago if you were aware of what you had done wrong today, and you replied that you did not. And yet, you have denied neither of the very grievous accusations brought against you. I can therefore only assume that you are also guilty of lying to a Senior Acolyte within the walls of the Sanctuary of Skatterr. Do you deny this?”

“Yes,” Seth said boldly, “I do deny it. I have spoken nothing but truth since I arrived on this island, and I will continue to speak nothing but the truth, even if you will not hear it.”

“I’ve had enough of this!” hissed Pokriz, losing the temper that he claimed not to have in the first place. “You betrayed the brotherhood for a lunatic, defiled your robe, and now you even lie in the house of the most glorious of Immortals. Have you no shame? Just who do you think you are?!”

“I know exactly who I am,” said Seth, walking forward to the acolyte’s desk. Seth raised his shillelagh and Pokriz ducked under his arms as if he were afraid that Seth would strike him. “You see this?” he said. “The entire history of my fathers is carved on this walking stick, all the way down to me. You want to know who I am? I am Seth the Fourth, son of Seth the Liar, son of Seth the Thief, son of Seth the Traitor. There’s nothing you can tell me about my shame. I carry it in my hands everywhere I go.”

***

Seth walked along the beach of the island, watching the sunset and feeling very foolish and sore. Apparently the junior acolytes had considered it bad manners for a guest to raise his voice at their Senior Honorable Noble Whatever-Title-He-Had-Made-Up-For-Himself. They especially didn’t like the fact that when they had entered the room, Seth had appeared to be brandishing a weapon at the old man. Their fists had requested that he and his face leave immediately, and their boots made sure that his backside had understood the message as well.

As Seth continued to walk along the sand, he realized that while he was embarrassed to be expelled from another group of devotees of the Immortals, what he really felt foolish about was that he had expected anything else. Whether he was trying to find a higher purpose at the School of Caster, the Library of Destiny, or the Stronghold of Sentinel, Seth found that he never found belonging, nor did he ever feel closer to fulfilling his mission to restore the honor of his fathers.

Seth had reasoned that perhaps it was because Caster, Destiny, Sentinel, and most of the other well-known Immortals were the second generation of Immortals. Since the Celestial Guardians were the only First Immortals not overthrown at the end of the First Age, Seth had hoped that by traveling to this island and joining the acolytes, he might finally come closer to the great purpose he was seeking. But the acolyte’s devotion to the Immortals they claimed to revere was even more hollow than the others had been. He was lost and out of ideas.

Seth sat down on the sandy beach and felt a chill blow in from the sea. He looked up at the sky and watched the stars begin to appear one by one above him. While still looking up at the stars, Seth began to speak aloud. “It was said that at one time the Immortals had grown so powerful they could hear the cries of every mortal on the face of Reulla. And that they were so gallant they would answer those cries when the mortals needed them most. So why don’t they answer anymore? Have Caster and his subjects finally forgotten what it’s like to be mortal, and so stopped caring to help us as well?”

Seth’s words hung in the silence of the increasingly chilly air. As the beach continued to darken, Seth got up and began walking once again. A moment later, he let out a yelp as he stubbed his toe on something hard in front of him. He reached down and was able to just make out the form of a rusty old lantern. Seth determined it must have washed to shore after falling off one of the ships that regularly came and went from the island. As Seth’s toe throbbed, the feeling of foolishness returned and the threw the lantern down the beach.

Seth was mildly surprised when he didn’t hear the lantern hit the sand. He was much more surprised as he saw a light in the direction where he had thrown it, and saw that the light was coming from the lantern, which was now level with his face and coming closer to him.

Squinting his eyes against the bright light in the darkness, Seth could see a figure holding the lantern, with two other figures following behind. As the three figures drew near, Seth realized that it was Tipsy holding the lantern, with the little girl wearing Seth’s robe on one side, and Senior Acolyte Pokriz on the other side.

Seth was bewildered to see these three individuals in front of him together. “Sorry Tipsy,” Seth said, trying to shield his eyes from the blinding light. “I didn’t realize that was your lamp. I hope I didn’t damage it.”

“Why did you show me compassion when it would have been easier to join your comrades?” asked Tipsy. The old man’s voice was deep and sounded nothing like the ranting tone that Seth had heard earlier that morning.

“What?” asked Seth, not sure he had heard the question correctly.

“Why did you do it?” the old man asked again.

“Because,” said Seth, “it was the right thing to do.”

“Why did you show me kindness and give me your robe?” asked the little girl. Her voice was that of a child, but she sounded older and more confident than any child he had ever met. Certainly more than the scared little girl he had met in the alley that day. “Nobody else knew I was there. It would have been easier to just keep walking by.” Seth didn’t know what was happening, but he had the distinct impression that he was being tested.

“Because it was the right thing to do,” said Seth.

“Why did you tell me the truth when you knew your honesty would get you banished?” asked Pokriz. Gone was the tone of boredom and contempt. His voice was now penetrating and rich. “If you had told me what I wanted to hear, I might have let you stay.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Seth replied.

Tipsy held the lantern a little higher and the light shone right in Seth’s face. “And do you always do the right thing?” the old man asked.

“No, I don’t,” replied Seth. “But I try to.”

“That will do,” said the little girl.

At that moment, Seth saw all three of them waver and disappear while the light in the lantern became so bright that Seth could see nothing else. Even the sand beneath his feet and the great sea to his right seemed to fade into white as the unearthly light blinded him.

“What’s going on?” shouted Seth. “Who are you?”

In response, Seth heard a voice all around him. “Even if I told you my name, you would not know it,” said the voice. “There are none left on this world, my world, who know me or my magic.” As the light intensified, Seth fell to his knees.

“But I want you to change that,” said the voice. “I have a job for you, Seth.”

Seth
Art by Ryan Salway

The pale moon shone down in the clearing as the sun finished setting in the west. In the growing darkness, a hunched figure emerged from the trees to stand in front of the cave and wail in despair at the large piles of bones in front of her. A smaller figure stepped into the moonlight as well, slowly and trepidatiously approaching the first figure from behind.

“What do we do now, Treshigan?” asked the whimpering voice. “Do you think the master will forgive us for failing him?”

“What do we do now?” Treshigan repeated with derision dripping from her words. “I think the answer to that is pretty obvious, Mutt. You say goodbye to your pathetic excuse for a life, and I say goodbye to my beauty and power. I wouldn’t be surprised if we both find ourselves as nothing more than walking corpses by midnight tomorrow.”

“Come now,” said a third voice, from just beyond the shadows of the nearby trees. “After all, if nothing else, Vdekshi is a master who is so fond of second chances. Even third, fourth, and ninetieth chances in your case, Tresh.” A tall, thin figure emerged from the trees with skin as pale as the moonlight. He was dressed in elegant clothing, and his smile seemed to hide a sinister delight known only to himself.

“He sent you to retrieve us already, Laronius?” asked Treshigan with both fear and contempt. “He must trust me even less than I thought.”

“Oh the master doesn’t trust anyone,” said Laronius with a look of mock surprise. “Not even me, and I’m his most loyal and faithful servant.”

“You mean his most obedient lap dog,” snapped Treshigan.

Laronius clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk. The words of a witch really can hurt, can’t they?” Laronius said, turning to Mutt. “Still I suppose it’s true. I have been following you for quite some time. With all the power Vdekshi gave you, the master wanted to know how well you were using it. Walking around in broad daylight? Making yourself look beautiful to a bunch of mangy dragon hunters? I think we may need to have a talk about budgeting your resources, Tresh.”

“Still,” said Laronius, regaining his sinister smile, “what’s done is done. And as I said, Vdekshi is so fond of second chances. Let’s see what kind of second chances are available here, hm?”

“There’s nothing of use here,” said Treshigan. “That idiot Tarun burned all the bodies so there’s nothing but ash and bones for you to reanimate.”

“Ah, but you haven’t got the eyes I have, Tresh,” said Laronius. “Mutt, do you see those four slightly raised mounds over there?”

Mutt nodded his head, obviously too afraid to speak to Laronius directly.

“Good Mutt,” Laronius said. “Now to the trained eye, one can tell that those are shallow graves. Still quite fresh, I believe. Shall we see what treasures we can find inside?”

Laronius floated above the ground and hovered over the area where the four mounds were. He pulled from his pocket a large silver and ruby ring that he placed on his finger with great flourish. “A gift from the master,” he said to Treshigan. “Only his favorite lap dogs get to play with these.”

Laronius closed his eyes, extended his hand, and began chanting. Soon the ring on his finger began to glow red in the darkness, and the dirt on top of the mounds started to stir and move.

“Ah, Krall,” Laronius said with a grin. “I was wondering when you’d come back to us.”

The first thing that Shon heard as he began to wake up was the gentle sound of a stream flowing by. The sound was familiar and comforting, and Shon wanted nothing but to stay exactly where he was and listen to the flow of the water. That would not be possible however, as other sounds started to invade his mind and drown out the peaceful babbling.

Shon heard sobbing, murmuring, and accusations. He also felt an intense pain pounding against the sides of his head, almost like the pain was trapped and trying to break its way out of his mind. The pain made him dizzy, and Shon tried to focus on the sound of the water again until the sharp pain was muffled to a dull throbbing.

Once the dizziness and disorientation left Shon, he realized that his eyes were closed, and he slowly began to open them. His vision was blurry as his eyelids parted, but he was soon able focus on an enormous black shape in front of him. In a flash of terror and panic, Shon realized that he was lying next to the deadly black and purple dragon.

Shon immediately got to his feet to get some distance between himself and the creature. As soon as he stood up, he heard several people gasp and shuffle away, and Shon realized that there was a crowd gathered around him. Shon heard someone in the crowd shout, “I told you we should have killed him before he woke up!”

Nothing was making sense to Shon. Why would these people be standing around when there was a huge deadly dragon in their midst? Did none of them see the dragon lying there?

The last thought caught in Shon’s mind. Why is the dragon lying there, instead of attacking the town? Was she dead? A flood of memory rushed over Shon as he recalled the last moments of the dragon rushing at him before he passed out. Had someone managed to kill her right before she had descended on Shon?

Shon gathered the courage to walk up to the dragon and see if she was alive. He saw that her eyes were wide open, and she was breathing, but she made no other movement at all. She lay on the ground as still as stone.

Shon saw Stick lying next to the dragon, and stooped down to pick up the staff. As soon as Shon held Stick the pain in his head grew, but was also strangely easier to endure. “What happened?” Shon asked, turning to face the crowd.

There was a chaotic and overwhelming response from the crowd. Voices both verbal and mental assaulted Shon, and he couldn’t distinguish any one message. The pain in his head sharpened and intensified, and he thought he could hear a low growl among the noise. Shon began to stagger back. “Stop,” he said. “Silence.”

All at once the crowd ceased speaking, and looked at Shon with renewed looks of fear and shock on their faces. Many in the crowd backed away, but one man stepped forward with a club and pointed it at Shon. “Why’d you send your dragon to attack our town?” the man asked. “What did we ever do to you? My home was destroyed and my entire flock is dead because of that monster!”

“My dragon?” said Shon in disbelief. “I don’t control this dragon. I’m one of the dragon hunters who came to your town to get rid of it!” Shon made the statement before he realized that it was the first time he had ever referred to himself as a dragon hunter.

“That’s a lie!” the man shouted back. “I saw you standing in the middle of town summoning that thing to you. How dumb do you think we are?” At the man’s question, many in the crowd began to murmur agreement.

“No, it’s true!” said a voice behind Shon. A woman stepped forward, followed by her three young children. “My children and I were hiding nearby when the dragon attacked. I heard the wizard speak with a strange little man that I thought was a child at first. The horrible little creature had brought the dragon here on purpose, and the wizard came here to save us. He’s a hero!”

“You’re making no sense, woman,” the man shouted. “If he’s not the dragon’s master, then why didn’t it kill him?”

The young mother whipped her head around at the man with a stern look on her face. It was clear she was not accustomed to tolerating such a disrespectful tone. Shon wondered to himself if she was a distant relative of Empress. “He’s wizard, you rude little man!” the woman snapped. “Obviously he’s got powerful magic to protect him. Plus, he came here with a magic plant that dragons hate. I heard him say so himself.”

The man backed away a little, obviously not wanting a second dose of the woman’s glare. “Well, where’s the magical plant then?” the man asked in a quieter tone.

“The plant is called Dragon’s Bane,” said Shon, “and it was stolen from me by Mutt. That’s the name of the little man she mentioned who lured the dragon here. As for why it didn’t kill me, I couldn’t say. I’m trying to figure that out as well. But I promise you the dragon isn’t mine. I came here to help you get rid of it.”

“Somebody fetch the town headman,” the man with the club said. “He’ll know for sure whether the wizard was one of the dragon hunters. I think they finally managed to get him out of his house after the wall collapsed.”

Shon breathed a sigh of relief that sanity was beginning to prevail. The headman would surely recognize him, and then he could start getting to the bottom of what really happened and how he was still alive. He turned to the young mother who had come to his defense and said, “Thank you, ma’am. I’m lucky you were around to stand up for me.”

The woman looked at him strangely. “I’d say the whole town’s very lucky you were here to stand up for us,” she said. “I thank you for saving our lives.” The woman gave a small bow to Shon, and then stared at her three small children until they did the same. The four of them then walked away from the crowd.

As the woman and her children walked away, Shon began to feel elated. Was he really a hero like the woman had said? He had no idea if he had been responsible for the dragon’s defeat, but he couldn’t think of any other explanation. None of the other dragon hunters were anywhere to be seen.

The crowd parted as they made way for the town headman to come through. One of his pant legs was torn and he was being helped along by some men who were supporting his weight. Shon read the man’s thoughts and could tell that he was not really in as much pain as he was letting on, but he was quite angry, and Shon wanted to keep things as calm as he could.

The headman squinted at Shon from a few feet away and nodded. “Yes, that’s one of the dragon hunters,” he said curtly. “You were with the second party, correct? The one with the orc? I must say, I was under the impression that you men were professionals and would deal with the dragon before it started destroying our town. I will have to speak with the leaders of the other two towns about whether this will affect the terms of your reward.”

Shon found himself wishing he could conjure up one of those fantastic expressions that the young mother had just demonstrated. He did not care for the man’s ingratitude at all. “You’ll have to take that up with Krall,” said Shon with a hint of annoyance. “He’s in charge of negotiating terms and payment. I’m only in charge of bringing full-grown dragons crashing to the ground.”

The headman began to flush a bit in the face. “Yes, well that may be,” said the headman. “But crashing to the ground is not what we hired you do to. We hired your party to kill the dragon, and if I’m not mistaken, the one behind you is still breathing.”

Shon spun around and realized with embarrassment that the man was right. What was worse, he realized that even in an apparently catatonic state, Shon still had no idea how to kill an adult dragon, or any dragon, for that matter. Shon began to feel a sense of panic as the thought occurred to him that the dragon could still wake up at any moment.

Suddenly Shon sensed a familiar mind coming nearer, and when he looked up he saw Tarun walking into town. Shon was thrilled and relieved to see his friend, but it was also immediately obvious that something was wrong. Tarun’s mind was filled with more anger than Shon had ever sensed from him before, and he looked utterly exhausted. As Tarun came nearer, Shon could see that he was filthy, and his left forearm was crudely bandaged.

Tarun walked into the area, looking at the unconscious dragon on the ground in disbelief. “How did this happen?” he asked.

“I’m still trying to figure that out,” said Shon. “I am really glad to see you Tarun. We’ve got a big problem here, obviously. Where are Krall and the others?”

“They’re dead,” said Tarun with a catch in his throat. “The eggs we were after had already hatched before we arrived. We managed to kill all three young dragons, but I’m the only who survived.”

“Did I hear you say the dragon had babies?” interrupted the headman, stepping forward. “Because those were not included in the contract, and we will not be bullied into paying you more for them.”

Tarun suddenly spun around and grabbed the headman by his shirt. “I wasn’t asking you for more money, you pathetic little coward,” Tarun said, breathing into his face. “I was telling Shon that our friends just died heroic deaths to save this town and everyone else from poisonous monsters. So show some respect!”

Tarun released his grip on the headman’s shirt, and the man stumbled back toward the crowd. “Are you alright?” Shon asked with concern on his face. “That wasn’t like you.”

“No,” replied Tarun, trying to keep his voice calm to Shon, “I am definitely not alright. We need to get out of here. As soon as these people have paid us what they owe us, we’re packing up the wagon and heading further east.”

“Excuse me,” said the headman. His voice quavered a little now, but his tone was still angry. “I’m sorry to hear about what happened to your partners, but as I already told your friend here, we’re not paying anything until this dragon is actually dead. And if you try to rough me up again, I’ll have you both escorted out of town.”

Tarun abandoned any last attempt at controlling his temper, and he let out a great shout. He raised his Vedionite sword high in one hand, and everyone in the crowd backed away quickly. But instead of charging at the crowd, Tarun rushed to where the dragon lay, and thrust his sword below her chin and into her head with all his might. There was a sharp cracking sound, Shon felt an intense rush of pain, and a moment later the dragon exhaled her last breath.

When Tarun drew back his sword from the dragon, he found that the blade had snapped in half with the tip and large portion of the shaft still lodged in the dragon. Tarun looked at what was left of the stone attached to the wooden handle with vexation, and pointed it at the headman. “She’s dead!” bellowed Tarun. “Now pay what you owe.”

The crowd quickly dispersed after that, and the headman went back to his office to retrieve their reward. Meanwhile Shon looked at his friend with fear and worry building in his mind. After the exertion of the blow to the dragon, Tarun’s injury on his arm began to bleed again, and Shon was not sure if he saw a tint of purple in the bandage.

“What is going on Tarun?” Shon asked with trepidation. “What happened back at that cave? Are you going to be alright?”

“I’m not sure,” said Tarun, trying to calm down again. “You remember how you said that Empress told you that anger can come from anywhere? Well right now I feel like mine is coming from everywhere at once.”

Tarun put a hand on his bandaged arm and winced in pain. “I think I may have been poisoned, but for some reason it’s not affecting me quite like the others. It hurts like crazy, but I don’t think it’s going to kill me.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Shon asked.

“Yes,” said Tarun. “As soon as we get out of here, you can help me take down camp, load up the wagon, and get out the hunting gear.”

“The hunting gear?” Shon asked. “What for? Aren’t all the dragons we were after dead now?”

“We’re not hunting a dragon this time,” Tarun said darkly. “We’re hunting a necromancer.”

When Krall thought about the different chapters that made up his life, he always separated those chapters by the different levels of freedom he experienced. Although he had not been born a slave, he had not been born free either. His father was brutal and territorial of his home, his possessions, and his family. Even as a very young orc, Krall always wanted to explore and move, but his father guarded his family jealously, and none his young were ever allowed to venture out of earshot and eyesight where they could help drive off intruders.

Krall found it somewhat fitting that despite his father’s paranoia of outsiders and guarding their territory, there was nothing he could do to stop Vdekshi’s undead horde that had kidnapped Krall, his brothers, and other young orcs from nearby families. The creatures had come in the night with no thought or fear in their heads, so they cared nothing about the trophies hung outside or the primal bellowing that Krall’s father usually used to scare off invaders.

Krall’s kidnapping and enslavement by Vdekshi meant even less freedom for the orc. He could not choose what to eat, where or when to sleep, what to do, or even whether he would live. Vdekshi had taken the very little that Krall ever had, and he spent every waking moment, and many of his sleeping moments as well, in fear that Vdekshi would take the last thing he had left, the very air from his lungs.

And yet, merely by surviving under Vdekshi’s harsh ownership, Krall had proven himself strong and determined. Vdekshi had made him an offer. He could leave the fortress where Vdekshi was keeping him if Krall would hunt dragons for him. Krall had heard stories of the dangers of dragons in his youth, and yet Krall decided that the danger was better than remaining inside the fortress. There were many things that were keeping him a prisoner, and Krall decided he would never let his fear become one of them.

The first time that Krall left the fortress in search of a dragon, Vdekshi had given him a map to follow to where he suspected the dragon was hiding. Krall had followed the map precisely, but when he arrived at a bridge that had been washed out, Krall found that he could not swim and could not follow the map, and so he turned around and went back. When he reported the situation to Vdekshi, the necromancer had hit him hard on the back of the head with his silver staff and asked, “And was every part of that river too wide and too deep to cross? Next time, keep looking around until you find a way across!”

Krall had returned the next day and searched up and down the path of the river for hours, but eventually he did find an area suitable to cross. After Krall made his way across the river and looked back to the other side, he felt elated. It was the first time in his life he had accomplished something beyond the simple instructions that he had been told. He had tested and explored and he now had a new path to follow. While he knew that he still belonged to Vdekshi and would still have to return to him, it was the first time that Krall had actually gained more freedom in his life, even if just a little bit. It left him ever after hungry for more.

Krall’s first assignment to capture a dragon had not ended in success, but Vdekshi was willing to let him continue trying until he gave up or died. Krall always accepted more hunting assignments, and each time he kept pushing his boundaries. He would take alternate routes or experiment with different techniques than Vdekshi and his lackeys would tell Krall to use. Krall was always honest about his deviations to see if he would be punished, but he never was. Vdekshi made it clear he cared about results, not methods.

But Krall had pushed his luck too far, and eventually Vdekshi had caught on that he had been killing the dragons to avoid bringing them back to him alive on purpose. Enchanted shackles had been placed on Krall’s wrists to ensure that he would never disobey or mislead Vdekshi again. And he would only be allowed to hunt following very specific orders, rather than choosing his own path or methods.

After tasting even a portion of freedom, enduring the enchanted shackles was unbearable for Krall. He had tried to resist for the first couple of weeks, but Vdekshi’s dark magic was strong, and Krall was forced to comply. One night Krall decided that he would rather lose both hands and die, than continue to endure the shackles, and he determined that the following day he would do just that.

That was the night that Krall had dreamt of Nomad and his dragon, Wander. That was the night that he had learned from the wise Immortal the true path for an orc to find freedom and peace. That was the night that he had been bathed in Wander’s green flame, and all of his boundaries had been consumed. When Krall awoke the next morning, he found that the shackles were gone, and all that was left were two scars on his wrists where the shackles had apparently burned away.

Though escape from Vdekshi and his fortress meant Krall had won a great freedom overnight, he found that there was still more freedom he would need to win. Freedom from hunger, freedom from the cold, freedom from fear, freedom from anger, and freedom from loneliness were just a few of the battles that Krall had to face soon after his escape. Though it was often hard and sometimes painful, Krall never regretted his freedom for a moment.

***

Krall stood perfectly still in the dank, smelly dragon’s cave, a prisoner inside his own body. Because of the hex that the witch was putting on him and the others, Krall could not move a single bone in his body. His fingers could not release their grip on the torch he was holding, even though sparks and debris were falling off and stinging his hand. He could not turn his head to see the status of his comrades. He could not even unloose his jaw to shout a warning to his enemies about the three young black dragons that were silently moving behind them to block their escape. Krall had never felt so trapped in his entire life.

Jarkt had already spit on Krall’s face, and now stood right in front of him, gloating about something or other. Krall really couldn’t care less what that idiot had to say. He was too busy trying to find a way out of the cave. Out of the corner of his eye, Krall saw the wall of the tunnel they were in glimmer and gleam in his torchlight. He realized that the sides of the walls were wet with poisoned blood from the young dragons’ ravenous and messing feasting from so many meals.

Krall continued to watch the dragons move slowly and silently in front of their only route to escape. They had a very small window of opportunity left to escape, and Jarkt, the witch, and the others with them were too preoccupied to realize what was happening. Krall had to do something or it would soon be too late for all of them.

Jarkt was now shouting in Krall’s face, which was starting to become too distracting to think. Their noses were practically touching. Krall suddenly had an idea, and he acted on it without even thinking. He in took a huge breath and then exhaled sharply from his nose. Fortunately the foul smell of the cave had made Krall’s nose a bit congested, and a huge ball of mucus shot directly into Jarkt’s mouth.

Jarkt backed away spitting, gagging, and cursing. He looked at Krall with an expression of pure hate and rage, and drew his sword to kill the orc where he stood. That was exactly what Krall had been hoping for.

As soon as the three dragons saw the gleaming metal weapon, they abandoned all attempts at stealth, and issued a series of roars and hisses at their would-be attackers. The witch immediately forgot her hex on Krall and the others, and fled out of the cave, pushing one of the other dragon hunters down who was in her way. With a great snap, the fallen dragon hunter was snatched up in the jaws of one of the dragons, and taken back into the dark abyss of the tunnel from which the young dragons had emerged.

Finally free to move again, Krall wasted no time throwing his torch at the wall of the cave, instantly igniting it in hot, oily flames. As the two remaining dragons reeled and screeched at the flames, Krall grabbed Tarun and Solimar by the arms and pulled them along with him past the dragons and through the tunnel that would lead to their escape. Though the flames licked their clothes and the dragons snapped at their heels, the three managed to get to the tunnel. As they passed the dragons, Krall felt a sharp pain on the back of his leg, but kept running.

Even as the walls of the tunnel began to widen out, and the flames were farther from them, the inside of the tunnel started to feel like an oven to Krall, Tarun, and Solimar. Despite the oppressive heat and the increasing pain in his leg, Krall kept running and pulling the others along, sure that their freedom was not far beyond. After a minute more of intense running, they had reached the opening of the cave and breathed the cool, clean air of outside.

Their freedom was short-lived however. No sooner had they emerged, than they found themselves frozen in place again by the witch who was waiting for them just outside. She moved toward them with a wicked and cruel look on her face as she continually muttered the words of her chant. Krall could tell that she expected the dragons to follow soon, and she intended for them to be the bait.

Just before the witch had reached Krall, out of the corner of his eye he could see a massive blur of hair and tusks rush by, and suddenly the witch was airborne. Krall turned his head to see Piggy atop his boar where the witch had just been standing. She landed several feet away with a hard thump, and something inside Krall’s head gave a lurch.

Krall looked over at the witch, who now appeared as an old and haggard woman with sunken eyes, crooked teeth, and thin patchy hair. “TRESHIGAN!!” yelled Krall, recognition finally rushing though his brain. How could he have ever forgotten the name of someone so terrible? And how could she have ever found him? Krall realized that if she now looked as she appeared before them, then her power must have been all but used up, and he rushed to take care of her before she could do any more damage.

Before Krall could reach her, Treshigan had removed a loose tooth from her mouth and spit it at the ground. The tooth had exploded in a cloud of gray smoke. After the smoke cleared, Treshigan was nowhere to be found.

Before Krall, Tarun, Solimar, and Piggy had a chance to catch their breath, Jarkt and his archer Preke came running out of the cave, followed immediately by two of the dragons. As Jarkt and Preke ran directly towards them, Krall assumed that they were coming to attack him. It wasn’t until they came closer that he could hear Preke screaming to Krall and the others, “Somebody stop him! He’s trying to kill me!”

Krall saw that indeed Jarkt did have his sword raised to strike at his own archer, and he blew a sharp whistle to Solimar. The elf deftly pulled out an arrow and shot Jarkt in his sword arm, but the pain did nothing to slow him down. With purple foam gathering around his mouth, Jarkt cut down his companion before he could reach them. As he watched the pathetic excuse for a man betray his own friend, blood began to rush in his ears and the world around him began to turn red as he felt an incredible rage engulf his mind. Krall looked down to the excruciating pain in his leg and saw a long black and purple quill sticking out of the back of his pants, stained with blood.

After all he had been through and all he had escaped, how could he have still ended up as one of Vdekshi’s sick and rage-fueled experiments? Krall saw Jarkt turn his sword against one of the nearby dragons, and was quickly snatched up in the beasts jaws.

How could someone like Treshigan have found him after all this time? Krall saw the other dragon whip its tail to launch quills at Piggy and his boar. They were both struck, and boar instantly became enraged, threw Piggy from its back, and charged the dragon. The boar was caught by the dragon’s claws as soon as it came within its reach.

Had he ever been truly free from Vdekshi’s influence at all, or had he merely pretended to let Krall escape so that he could play a part in a grander scheme that led to the poison and death of everyone he cared about? Krall saw Piggy run and leap onto the back of the dragon that had killed his boar, and the enraged dwarf began furiously hacking past the dragon’s scales with the Dragon Stone spikes on his club.

Had Nomad really visited him in a dream, or was his memory no more than a fantasy and illusion of the night? If Krall had been found, did that mean that Wander’s fire was not as powerful as he believed? Did either of them ever exist at all? Krall saw Solimar fire arrows tipped with Dragon Stone at the face of the dragon that Piggy was attacking. He saw the dragon launch a second volley of quills at Solimar, hitting the elf in the chest.

Did freedom even really exist? All the years that Krall thought he had been following his instincts and trusting his judgment, had he really just been following a path that he could never escape? Were his choices still bound like his wrists were all those years ago? Krall saw Piggy grab hold of the dragon’s neck and swing around to strike his club at the creature’s throat. He saw Solimar lose all reason and rush forward with two Dragon Stone arrows to stab the beast in the legs. He saw them both crushed underneath as they finally brought the dragon down.

The agony and rage that Krall felt was too much to bear. His heart pounded furiously and his muscled burned with a mad strength. He wanted to inflict that pain and death on someone else. He wished that Vdekshi were standing directly in front of him so he could deliver vengeance and retribution upon the cruel necromancer, but since he was not, Krall would deliver it to anything else that crossed his path. That is when the dragon that had killed Jarkt decided to turn its attention to Krall.

As the dragon moved forward, Krall used one hand to remove his Dragon Stone dagger from the sheath at the front of his belt. With his other hand, Krall removed the second Dragon Stone dagger he always kept hidden in the back of his belt. As the dragon lunged its head forward to snap Krall in its jaws, he swung both daggers around and caught the dragon unawares by stabbing both sides of its head with his daggers.

Krall held the dragon’s head in place with his unnaturally strong arms and looked into the dragon’s eyes. What should have been eyes of strength and pride and majesty were instead empty black spheres of agony and rage. Krall looked at the face of the dragon with pity and disgust as he wondered how Vdekshi could ever be so demented and cruel to condemn any creature to such a short, brutal, and twisted existence. In a burst of incredible strength, Krall spun his arms around to twist the dragon’s head sharply to one side. There was a loud and sickening cracking noise, and the dragon stopped moving.

Still filled with rage, Krall was actually excited to see the third dragon emerge from the flaming opening of the cave. The dragon staggered, its wings were badly singed, and its eyes were closed, but it came out roaring and hissing all the same. Krall shouted a mighty cry of his own and charged at the dragon, but a moment before he reached the creature, its head fell from its body and Krall saw Tarun standing next to it holding his Dragon Stone sword, which was covered in poisoned dragon blood.

Without even knowing why, Krall charged at Tarun with his daggers and rage. Tarun immediately dropped his sword and grabbed Krall by the wrists to hold back his weapons. After a brief struggle, Krall abandoned the daggers and used his own sharp teeth to bite Tarun’s arm.

Something about the taste of Tarun’s blood in his mouth awakened something in Krall, and his strength and rage began to fade. He fell backwards to the ground, and the heartbeat that had been pounding so loudly in his ears just moments ago, now seemed to fade to almost nothing.

Krall looked in horror at the bite mark on Tarun’s arm, with the purple foam that had come from his own mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he weakly managed to say. “So, so sorry.”

“I know,” Tarun said, kneeling down and lifting Krall’s head in his arms. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save Solimar and Piggy.”

Though Krall’s strength was leaving him, the rage was leaving him as well, and his senses began returning. How was that possible? He had never seen victims of the poison calm down before their deaths. The rage always took them to the very end. Krall tasted Tarun’s blood in his mouth again, and his instincts told him there was something important about that. Krall felt like his very breaths were numbered, but he had to somehow find the strength to tell Tarun.

“You’re special,” Krall managed to whisper to Tarun. “You and Shon. You have more to do.”

“I know,” said Tarun. “The mother dragon is still out there and we have to kill her before she can poison anything else. And we need to stop your old master from poisoning any more dragons.”

“Yes,” whispered Krall, “but more than that. You have power, Tarun. Inside you.”

“That’s enough,” Tarun said. “We have to get you somewhere to rest so you can heal.”

“Stop and listen,” said Krall, barely audible now. “Take the wagon. Be great. Tell Shon I’m sorry I couldn’t help him find his parents.”

“Don’t die,” Tarun said. He was holding his injured arm and tears were running down his cheeks. “It’s not supposed to end like this.”

Krall closed his eyes and heard the sounds of the leaves blowing in the wind and the birds chirping overhead. He smelled the grass below him and the pollen in the air. He felt the sun shining on his skin. He swallowed and tasted the last of Tarun’s blood drain from his mouth and noticed that the bitter taste of the poison foam was gone too.

“It’s alright,” said Krall. “Not the end. I’m free.”

Shon stood in the middle of camp holding Stick with both hands in a blocking maneuver, and then brought it down hard in front of him in a striking motion. During the two weeks he had been with Solimar, the elf had taught Shon some defensive techniques he could use if he ever had to use the staff in a fight. Shon didn’t like the idea of using such a powerful conduit of magic as a blunt object, but Solimar had told him, “If you’re dead, it won’t matter how magical the staff is. You would do well to practice how to protect yourself.”

Shon now found himself practicing the techniques, not to better prepare himself for a fight, but to keep himself from hearing his own thoughts. The hot sun of noonday shone brightly on Shon’s head, making sweat bead up on his bald scalp.

“Go home where it’s safe, little larva,” the cold voice in his dream had said to him weeks ago. “You could never be one of them.” The memory of the dream echoed in Shon’s mind, as if he could hear the cruel voice just as clearly now as he had that night.

“Shut up!” Shon shouted out loud as he swung Stick around wildly. “I’m not a coward!” After brining the staff down hard upon his imaginary foe, Shon recalled the cruel, distant laughing of the voice in his dream. “No, I am a coward,” Shon said panting and out of breath. Hot tears began to well up behind his eyes. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

Shon began carrying Stick back to his tent, with the intention of sleeping away the rest of the afternoon. Physical exertion didn’t seem to be quieting his thoughts after all, so maybe a nap would shut them up for a while. As he stood in front of his tent, however, he suddenly heard a piercing scream cut through the thoughts in his head.

Shon spun around to see where the scream had come from, but there was nobody else in the camp. He then heard another scream and realized he wasn’t hearing them with his ears, he was hearing them with his mind. Grasping Stick firmly and closing his eyes, Shon tried to locate the direction that the screams were coming from.

Shon realized very quickly that the screams were coming from the direction of Alderfold, and they were accompanied by feelings of acute terror. As he tried to decide what to do, Shon heard another scream from the town with a very clear message. Dragon!

Instantly a flood of images raced past Shon. He saw a large black shape flying distantly overhead against a clear blue sky. He saw the inky black shape move across the forest map of his dream, devouring huge, quivering X’s wherever it went. He saw the dragon emerge from the fog of the mountain, and swallow the injured cougar with one terrible bite in all her horrible glory. Then just as quickly as the images came, they left and Shon found himself still standing in the middle of camp. There was no immediate danger around him. For the moment he was not in harms way, and if he just stayed where he stood, he would probably remain safe.

In the front of his mind, Shon could hear the cruel distant voice telling him he was too small and afraid, and the only actions he was good for were standing petrified where he was or hiding under the wagon. But at the thought of the wagon, something tugged at the edges of his mind. Shon remembered how he had followed a similar tugging to escape the bear and find the poisoned animals and even locate the dragon’s cave. Is that what Empress meant by thoughts from the Ether? Shon decided to move and see where the stream from the Ether would take him now if he followed it.

The first place that his feet took him was to the green wagon where Krall kept the bundle of Dragon’s Bane that Shon and Tarun and delivered to him weeks ago. After retrieving the bundle, Shon ran off in the direction of Alderfold, leaving the distant cruel voice behind him.

***

Although he knew he was heading towards danger, Shon had been unprepared for the pandemonium and terror that would assault him from all sides once he had reached Alderfold. He saw women and children running away from the town in a panic. He saw grown men cowering behind doors, porches, or anything else that might hide them. He saw sheep with long quills sticking out of wool coats stained red and purple from poisoned blood and purple foam dripping from their mouths as they attacked the shepherds who had once protected them. The building where Shon had met the town headman was missing a wall.

Overhead, Shon saw the cause of all the madness as the huge black and purple dragon circled in the sky on outstretched wings. Shon wondered if she could have somehow grown even larger that the first time he had seen her. Shon kept his hood up tightly around his head and did not look at the dragon long. Even now, he could feel the pain and rage emanating from her.

Shon held the bundle containing the Dragon’s Bane tightly in his fist. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to use it, but he was sure that he was the only one who could save these people from the dragon above them. But why was she even attacking the town? She had stayed away and only attacked wildlife and livestock before, so why would she terrorize the town today? Could she somehow know what Krall and the others were planning to do back at her cave? If she did, why was she here instead of protecting her nest?

Shon kept his head down, trying to avoid looking at the dragon, and hoping to avoid being seen as well. Looking at his feet as he ran, Shon suddenly found himself tripping over someone small underfoot. After he hit the ground, Shon looked up, expecting to find a frightened child. Instead he found a pair of spiteful eyes glaring back at him.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot!” said a harsh, but high-pitched voice. It was the small man from the other dragon hunting party. The one that Jarkt and the others had called Mutt. Shon remembered the way Jarkt had treated Mutt the last time they met, and felt sorry for tripping over him.

Shon’s pity for Mutt was short-lived however. As soon as he looked at Mutt to apologize, Shon heard the thoughts in his head and the situation suddenly made sense. “You’re the reason the dragon’s here!” Shon shouted over the noise around them. “You stole something from her, and she followed you here to get it back.”

“Shut up!” hissed Mutt. “You want her to hear you?”

“I don’t care if the whole town hears me!” Shon shouted. He focused his mind on Mutt, but he couldn’t retrieve any more information at the moment. “What did you take from her?”

“None of your business,” said Mutt. “Treshigan says she needs the dragon gone for a few hours to set traps, so I make sure it’s away from the cave for a few hours. I do as she says and I stay alive.”

“Treshigan the witch?” asked Shon. “I thought you two were both Jarkt’s slaves.”

“Doesn’t he like to think that,” Mutt said with a sneer. “We’ll be done with him soon enough, and then he’ll be lucky to be alive.”

There was a roar overhead and Shon glanced up to see that the dragon was now circling closer to the ground. “Look,” said Shon, “I really don’t care about any of that. If Treshigan’s orders were to lead that thing away from her nest, that’s fine. But we have to get you out of this town before more people get hurt or someone gets killed. I think I have an idea of how we can get the dragon to follow us if we act quickly.”

“Are you insane?” Mutt squeaked. “I’m as good as dead if I don’t have this crowd to hide in!”

“So you’re just willing to let these people suffer so you can cower behind them?” shouted Shon.

“What have any of them ever done for me?” asked Mutt. “You know when we came through this town the first time, Jarkt had me on a leash?! You think any of these people came forward to help poor little Mutt with the rope around his neck? The dragon can have the whole lot of them for all I care!”

Shon felt such disgust at Mutt’s words that bile began to rise in his throat. He wanted to throttle the little man, but he knew that attacking him wouldn’t solve anything. He had to get them out of there. He tried to calm down and focus on the problem in front of him.

“Look, I know you’re angry,” Shon said, as calmly as he could. “But you know, that anger probably just started out as loneliness from your pancreas.”

Mutt stared at Shon in bewildered silence for a moment. “What in the world is that supposed to mean?” Mutt asked.

“It’s something an old teacher of mine would have said,” Shon said. “Look, forget it. The point is, I have something that we can use to keep the dragon away, even if you don’t have the crowd to hide in.”

Mutt eyed Shon suspiciously. “What is it?” he asked.

“This,” said Shon, pulling out the bundle of Dragon’s Bane, “is a plant that the dragon can’t bear the smell of. Just the residue of its smell has already saved my friend and me before. So let’s get you out of here, and we can use this to keep the dragon at a safe distance.”

“That’s your plan?” said Mutt, with contempt returning to his voice. “A smelly plant? Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll take my chances hiding here in town. It’s working out pretty well for me so far.”

At this last comment, Shon’s patience was more than spent. “We don’t have time for this,” said Shon. He grabbed Mutt by the wrist and before he could think through the situation, he used his free hand to remove his hood. Dragon! Shon called out with his mind. What you seek is down here!

As soon as Shon reached out to the dragon with his mind, he regretted it. The pain from the dragon hit Shon so forcefully, that he nearly lost his grip on Mutt’s wrist. The dragon’s reaction was also immediate and as she craned her neck in their direction, it was clear he had gotten her attention.

“What have you done?!” Mutt screamed at Shon. He then surprised Shon by deftly twisting the wrist that Shon was holding and using his other hand to pull back Shon’s middle finger, causing Shon to immediately lose his grip on his prisoner, and drop to knees. In a series of rapid movements, Mutt then kicked Shon in the ribs, punched the side of his head, and snatched the bundle of Dragon’s Bane out of Shon’s other hand.

“You should’ve just stayed out of it,” Mutt jeered right before he ran off with the Dragon’s Bane. “Good luck with the dragon.”

Shon’s vision began to blur. He could not tell if it was from the pain of Mutt’s unexpected blows, or from the increasing proximity of the dragon with all her rage and pain. Shon considered trying to pull up his hood to protect himself from the pain, but decided it was a futile effort. He had lost the Dragon’s Bane, and he had lost any chance of saving the people in the town. He was practically numb to the pain as a feeling of profound failure and hopelessness overcame him. He had not felt so helpless since being trapped by Treshigan and her magic.

And yet the stream of thought that had tugged him into action before still trickled past his mind. After all, when faced with certain defeat and humiliation it was Shon that was able to save them from Treshigan’s curse. Why not again? He could try couldn’t he? What did he have to lose?

As Shon grasped Stick firmly in his hands, he could hear still hear the thoughts and screams of everyone else in the town, but now his attention was focused solely on the dragon above him. He stared directly at her, trying to read her thoughts and send them back to her. This only seemed to make the dragon more angry than ever.

More, Shon thought to himself. I need more! He could tell that his mind was instinctively withdrawing from a portion of her pain and torment, and he tried to overcome the impulse. In the remaining reasoning left to him, Shon thought even a dragon like her must have a limit to the pain she could tolerate. I don’t need to feel it, Shon told himself, I just need to let it flow through me back to her unfiltered.

As Shon focused more and more on the dragon, time seemed to slow down in his mind. As the dragon descended towards him, he found it odd that he had time to think about his parents and Empress and Grodin. He wondered how long he would miss them when he was gone. Then he thought of Tarun with the dragon hunters who still had to kill this dragon coming down at him. They still need me, Shon realized.

With one last burst of strength and willpower, Shon opened his mind to its utmost limits. He was vaguely aware of the familiar egg inside his cloak pocket burning white hot against his skin, but he paid it no mind. The pain of the heat was nothing compared to the pain he was channeling from the dragon and back to her mind.

I need it all, Shon thought. I need all of her.

The dragon was now almost on top of Shon with open jaws and outstretched claws. As his vision continued to blur, he noticed that she really did look like the inky black shape from his dream. The black shape continued to grow and blur, until there was nothing but black, and Shon felt nothing at all.

The sun was beginning to set when Shon and Solimar walked into camp outside of Alderfold. Tarun, Krall, and Piggy had already set up the camp earlier that day, and were now sitting around a campfire eating their supper. All three of them looked up when the wizard and elf entered the clearing.

“It’s good to see you,” said Krall, standing up. “I was beginning to worry. I thought for sure that you two would be here waiting for us, considering how anxious you were about traveling as a pair.” Krall added a wink at his last comment. “How did tracking the dragon go? How much of her perimeter were you able to locate?”

“Forget the perimeter,” said Solimar, sounding exhausted. “We found her lair.”

Krall stood for a moment in the fading light of dusk, with shadows from the firelight dancing across his shocked face. “You found her lair?” he finally said. “How in the world did you manage that?”

“We’ll explain after we have some dinner and rest our feet a bit,” said Solimar. “We had to hurry to make it here by today, and Shon is especially exhausted. He went through a lot to get us as far as we did.”

“Of course,” said Krall, still looking surprised. “Have a seat by the fire and we’ll get you some of this stew that Tarun prepared.”

“I didn’t know you could cook,” said Shon as he sat down on a log by the fire.

“I didn’t know you could track a dragon,” replied Tarun with a smirk, ladling some hearty stew into a wooden bowl. “I guess we’ve both got some surprises to share with one another.”

“Uh, how about you start by telling me about that,” Shon said, pointing to a large, black, shiny object sitting next to Tarun. “Is that a sword made of rock?”

“You like it?” asked Tarun with a wide grin, handing the bowl of soup to Shon. “Krall suspects it’s the only Vedionite sword in the world. You wouldn’t believe how sharp it is!”

Solimar raised an eyebrow and looked at Krall. “Did you seriously let him make a sword out of Dragon Stone?” asked the elf. “And it hasn’t shattered yet?”

“Not yet,” said Krall with a chuckle. “Though Tarun won’t trust our wagon to carry it with all of its bumping and shaking. He carries that thing around with him everywhere. We had some pretty tense moments when shaping it, but it sounds like nothing like the excitement you two were having. How could you have found that dragon’s lair so quickly?”

Solimar and Shon began telling Krall and the others about their encounter with the poisoned bear and all that they had learned about the strange purple poison. Shon explained how he had used his magic to sense and track down animals that had been poisoned, and how he and Solimar had mapped the locations of the animals they found. Finally they told them about the pattern of kills that had led them to the dragon’s lair. When they finished, everyone sat silently around the campfire, considering the new information.

“It sounds like you both had a very dangerous two weeks indeed,” said Krall. The sun and finished setting by this time, and the stars were beginning to appear overhead. “I’m sorry the rest of us weren’t there to help.”

“Well what about you three?” Solimar asked. “Were you successful in your task, aside from Tarun’s new fragile toy?”

“I’d say so,” Krall replied. “We collected enough Dragon Stone, and then some. Piggy was able to fashion it into enough weapons for the job of taking down this dragon at least.”

“But do we even need the Dragon Stone weapons?” Tarun asked. “If her poisoned blood is as flammable as Shon and Solimar say, can’t we just light the dragon on fire and burn her from the inside out?”

“I’m afraid not,” Shon said. “Solimar tried using a flaming arrow on a poisoned elk that we came across early on. We thought it would put him out of his misery faster. That’s when we learned that the poisoned blood only becomes flammable after the animal has been dead for a while.”

“Besides,” said Krall, waiving a hand, “it’s too early to start strategizing how to kill the mother. Now that the lair has been found, our first priority has to be neutralizing those eggs of hers.”

“You mean we’re just going to destroy totally harmless dragon eggs?” asked Tarun. “Couldn’t they just be taken back up to Dragon Country instead of killing them?”

“Those eggs may be harmless,” said Krall, “but the dragons inside them are not. The moment a dragon hatches, it’s deadly. No matter how young it may be. And to be caught by a mother dragon while carrying her eggs is about the most dangerous situation a person can be in.”

“Besides,” Krall continued, “the moment those dragons hatch, they’ll be a whole new kind of abomination. Even more than their mother.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tarun.

“I suspect that Vdekshi is to blame for poisoning the mother,” said Krall, “but she must have had at least some life before Vdekshi got to her. I’d bet anything that those dragons will be born with the same poisoned blood pumping through their veins. Their entire existence will be consumed with pain and rage. I think destroying the eggs will be more of an act of mercy than cruelty.”

“Who’s Vdekshi?” Shon asked.

“That’s Krall’s old slave master,” said Tarun. “He’s a powerful necromancer, and the one who we think poisoned the dragon. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Oh,” said Shon, looking around at the others. “And did everyone else already know this?” The others stared at Shon for a moment, and then Piggy broke the silence by blowing his nose on his hand. “Alright then,” he said. “Carry on. I’ll just pretend that what you just said wasn’t incredibly scary.”

“We’ll all need to leave first thing in the morning,” Krall said, turning back to the others. “If Shon is right about the mother leaving to hunt each morning, then the afternoon will be our best time to sneak into the cave and destroy the eggs without the mother anywhere nearby. Shon, do you think you’ll be able to sense if the mother is nearby or not?”

Shon shifted uncomfortably on the log he was sitting on. “Actually, I needed to tell you about that,” said Shon. “I can’t go back to that cave. What I sensed the last time we were there was just too painful and dangerous for me to handle. I’m… I’m sorry.” Shon lowered his head and stared at his lap.

Krall and Tarun both opened their mouths to object, but Solimar raised a hand to silence them. “Believe me,” the elf said, “if I thought that Shon was just being a coward, I would be the first to say so. But I was there when we were at the dragon’s lair. I think Shon is right to stay behind. In fact, if he does go, he could put us all in even more danger.”

Tarun stood up and then sat next to Shon. “I never suspected that he was a coward,” Tarun said, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I only wanted to assure him that we would keep him safe.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” said Solimar.

“No, we can’t promise your safety,” said Krall, “but we can watch your back. You’ve become an invaluable member of our hunting party, Shon. Are you sure you can’t join us?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Shon, pulling his hood over his head. “I’m sorry to let you down, Krall.”

“I’ll trust your judgment,” Krall said, and then turned to the others. “Shon will stay here in the camp tomorrow and keep an eye on the wagon and the animals. That way the rest of us will be able to travel faster. We’ll be leaving before sunrise tomorrow, and by tomorrow evening we should have fewer dragon eggs to worry about hatching.”

***

Krall hid behind the trees closest to the entrance to the dragon’s cave and inhaled deeply through his nose. “It all smells so wrong,” he said. Nearby, Piggy sat on the back of his boar, trying to calm it down. The boar was sniffing heavily through its large nose as if in a panic, and was swinging its head from side to side and trying to back away.

“I know what you mean,” said Tarun. “It smells terrible over here.”

“It’s more than that,” said Krall darkly. “I’m familiar with the smell of death and decay, but this is different. It’s like I smell the death without the decay.”

“That’s one of the most unnerving things about the animals killed by the poison,” Solimar said. “Any flies, worms, or anything else that would usually start cleaning up the refuse just immediately dies when it tastes the poison. It’s one of the reasons that Shon and I started burning their bodies.”

Tarun was surprised how at the mere mention of Shon’s name, he felt so disappointed that his friend wasn’t with them. After being apart for two weeks, Tarun had been looking forward to spending time with Shon again, even if it was near a foul-smelling cave of death.

“Well, terrible smell or not, we’ve got to go in there,” Krall said. “It’s not quite noon yet, so we’ve got as good a chance as ever that the dragon is gone hunting. Let’s hope she stays out all day like you suspect, Solimar.” Turning to Piggy, he added, “You and your boar stay out here and keep a lookout for the dragon. You know the signal if you see her coming.”

Piggy cupped his hands around his mouth and made a nearly flawless impression of a crow cawing. Tarun realized it was the first time he had heard the dwarf use his voice, other than the grunts and groans he made when he woke up most mornings.

“Come on,” Krall said to Tarun and Solimar. “Let’s get this done as quickly as we can. I want to be as far away from here as possible when the mother gets back.”

The three of them emerged from behind the trees and dashed across the clearing in front of the cave’s entrance as quickly and quietly as they could. Krall held his black knife at the ready, Solimar’s bow was drawn with a Dragon Stone tipped arrow notched, and Tarun held his large stone sword with both hands.

When they reached the mouth of the cave and saw how dark it was inside, Krall put his knife away and retrieved a wooden torch from his pack. He found that the side of the cave’s entrance was smeared with thick blood stained purple with poison. Krall smeared the cloth of the torch against the wall and then used his flint and steel to strike sparks against it. The torch ignited immediately, and the three of them began walking down into mouth of the cave.

Although the opening of the cave was very large and easily wide enough for Krall, Tarun, and Solimar to walk side by side, they decided to walk in single file behind Krall because of the numerous quills and other poisonous debris that littered the sides of the cave.

After they had been walking for several minutes, the tunnel they were following began to slope downward. In the torchlight, Tarun saw the half-eaten remains of some now-unidentifiable animal. “It’s disgusting to think that any poison could cause a dragon to live in such a way,” Solimar whispered, nearly gagging.

“Is this not how most dragons live?” Tarun quietly asked. “Don’t they all bring their prey back to their lairs?”

“Above all else,” Solimar whispered, “dragons are very proud creatures. Even the ones who are barely more intelligent than beasts would never allow their caves to fall into such disarray as this. If dragons could still speak, they would never stop talking about their shame and rage to learn of another dragon living this way.”

“Dragons used to speak?” Tarun asked.

“Not all dragons,” said Solimar in a quiet tone that almost sounded like reverence. “But once a long time ago there were the Great Dragons. Enormous dragons that were intelligent enough to speak, and it’s rumored that some of them could even use magic. They were some of the most mighty and majestic creatures that ever lived.”

“Solimar was raised in a tribe that revered the Great Dragons,” Krall whispered over his shoulder to Tarun. “They practically worshipped them. As for me, I can’t say I’m sad that such powerful creatures have disappeared. Let’s just say that if you ever found yourself facing a dragon that could speak, you would only be alive as long as it wanted you alive. There’s no fighting a dragon like that.”

As Krall finished his sentence, he came to an abrupt stop. Tarun looked over Krall’s shoulder and saw that in front of him the tunnel branched off in three different directions. After a moment of silence, Tarun asked, “Should we split up and each take a passage?”

“Given our circumstances,” said Krall, “that would be about the worst thing we could possibly do. Besides, we only have the one torch. Solimar, which way do you think we should go?”

“Most dragons would only keep their eggs in the largest chamber of the cave, surrounded by gold, precious stones, and other treasures,” said Solimar. “However, it seems clear that this dragon has even abandoned her usual instincts for riches, so I’m afraid all we can do is guess.”

Krall sniffed the air in front of each passage several times. “The air seems to be foul in every direction,” he said. “Although the foul smell to the left does seem to be somewhat familiar. I can’t put my finger on it, but it is not an inviting smell. What do you think, Tarun?”

Tarun looked at the three passages in front of him. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what Krall had taught him about following his instincts. He thought about the three directions in front of him, and waited to see if the feeling of optimism and strength he associated with his instincts accompanied any of them. Instead, as his eyes were closed he heard a faint sound of clattering rocks coming from the direction to his right. Instead of optimism, the slight sound filled him with dread and cold fear.

“Did either of you hear that?” Tarun whispered.

“Hear what?” Solimar asked. “I’ve only heard the sounds of us talking.”

“Never mind,” Tarun quickly said. “I think we should choose the middle tunnel and take it quickly. This cave becomes less inviting every moment we stay still.”

“Agreed,” said Krall, starting to look more uneasy as well. “Any direction we choose will be better than lingering here in indecision. Center tunnel it is.”

After a minute of walking, the tunnel opened up into a large and spacious cavern. In the center of the cavern, they saw a large pile of stones, wood, and other debris. “Good instincts,” Krall said to Tarun. “It looks like we found the nest.”

Krall, Tarun, and Solimar began climbing up the pile of rocks. When they reached the top of the nest, Krall used the torchlight to view the inside, and what he saw made his blood run cold. In the center of the nest, Krall saw three enormous broken empty eggshells. One of them was dripping purple liquid.

“They’ve already hatched,” Krall said with terror creeping into his voice. “We have to get out of here now!”

As the three of them ran out of the cavern and up the tunnel they had entered from, Solimar began cursing and muttering. “How could the eggs have already hatched?” said the elf, panting. “Their mother only started brooding a few months ago. There’s no way a dragon could incubate and hatch that quickly!”

“It must be that cursed poison,” said Krall. “It must have changed the dragon and her young more than we even realized.”

“What do we do now?” Tarun asked as they continued running. “Kill the young dragons and the mother?”

“The first thing we need to do is get out of this cave and get somewhere that I can think straight,” Krall replied. “We came here equipped to destroy eggs, not kill dragons. Let’s just get to where the tunnel branched off and keep heading upward. If we keep running at this pace, once we reach that spot we should only be a few minutes from the mouth of the cave.”

As Krall ran, the jostling torch in his hand made strange dancing shadows on the cave walls. The shadows unnerved Tarun, and he wished to get out of the cave even faster. Soon the torchlight revealed the opening where Tarun had selected their path, and he began to feel relief that they would soon be out.

The light from the torch continued to play tricks on Tarun’s eyes, and as they neared the opening where the tunnel branched off, he almost thought he saw the shadows of other people moving in front of the opening. The moment they emerged from the opening, Tarun’s feeling of relief turned to confusion and then panic.

Tarun, Krall, and Solimar were frozen still in their tracks. Tarun tried to ask Krall what was going on, but he could not turn his head. He could not even speak. A moment later, emerging from the darkness and into the light of Krall’s torch, strode Jarkt. Behind him was the witch Treshigan, and his other two fellow dragon hunters.

“I thought I heard something down here,” Jarkt said, with malice dripping from his voice. “Where are you freaks off to in such a hurry? We’ve been here for hours searching the tunnels for the dragon’s nest. Could it be you’ve found it already?”

Tarun tried desperately to speak so he could tell them about the hatched dragons, but with his jaw locked in place, all he could do was loudly hum and growl.

“Are you trying to threaten me, boy?” Jarkt shouted. He used the back of his hand to strike hard against the side of Tarun’s face, sending blotches of color and stars into Tarun’s field of vision.

As the lights and colors inside his head began to fade, Tarun closed his eyes to try and focus and stay calm. With his eyes closed in the darkness, Tarun was able to make out two quiet, but distinct sounds. One was the low murmur and mumble of the witch Treshigan chanting her curse to hold their bodies still. The other sound seemed to come from the tunnel to his right, and sounded like a collection of low discordant hissing.

Tarun opened his eyes again, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Just outside of the torchlight to his right, he could see the flames flicker and reflect off of three pairs of jet black eyes.