Tag Archives: Gabriel

4 – 2

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

Gabriel was first off the caravan. He stumbled to his hands and knees, gasping. Juniper practically threw herself out of the car to his side, looking distressed.

“I’m sorry! I don’t think I can do anything for… I mean, injuries, that’s another—”

“Excuse me,” Shaeine said politely, stepping around her to kneel at his other side.

Gabe lifted his head, eyes widening as a silver glow lit up around her. “Wait,” he said hoarsely.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, and like a ripple in a pond, silver washed across him. Gabriel blinked twice in surprise, then slowly straightened up. “Oh…wow,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Wow. That’s amazing. Is that what divine healing always feels like?”

“I’m afraid I have no basis for comparison,” Shaeine said, straightening. “Are you well?”

“Mostly just embarrassed,” he admitted, accepting a hand from Juniper to get to his feet.

“That dovetails nicely with a little history lesson,” Tellwyrn remarked, stepping down from her own car. The rest of the students had already assembled on the Rail platform and were clustered around Gabriel. “The divine energy we know was created by the Pantheon when they first organized. It is, basically, the collected corpses of the previous generation of gods.”

Ruda wrinkled her nose. “Fucking gross.”

“Yes, well, the good stuff in life usually is,” said the Professor with a grin. “Gods are beings of unfathomable power. When they die, that energy has to go somewhere. It was, in part, by killing off the Elder Gods that the future Pantheon rose to godhood. There was more to it, but I really couldn’t tell you what. Apotheosis is not well understood.”

“Sounds like they might not want anybody to know how,” Gabriel suggested, “if it’d mean someone doing to them what they did to the Elders.”

“You are flirting with blasphemy,” Trissiny warned.

“He’s not wrong, though,” Tellwyrn said. “In fairness it should be acknowledged that the Elder Gods were nightmarish things. They brutalized the mortal inhabitants of the world; the Pantheon’s rebellion didn’t just happen on a whim, and it wasn’t about seizing power. The gods acted to free their people. Anyhow, once all this was done, they gathered up as much of the remaining free energy of the slain Elders as they could and created the wellspring of divine light we know today, establishing certain rules in the process. One of those, of course, is that the light burns demons and their kindred. This was just after Elilial had been expelled to Hell, and they had every reason to expect she’d be out for vengeance.”

“And Themynra isn’t part of the Pantheon,” Toby said, nodding at Shaeine.

“Just so,” Tellwyrn replied. “She is, in fact, the goddess of judgment. When you call on power from the Pantheon gods, there’s something rather mechanistic about it; the light does what it does according to its established nature. Shaeine’s method is different. She is inviting her goddess’s attention and intervention, which means that rather than a simple exercise of energy, Themynra is passing judgment upon the situation.”

Gabriel blinked, then wrapped his arms around himself. “That’s… A little creepy.”

“Oh, relax,” Tellwyrn said wryly, “you just got a free healing, didn’t you? Honestly, Mr. Arquin, I can’t imagine Themynra is impressed with your judgment, but that evidently doesn’t mean she thinks you deserve to suffer. Anybody who believes you are in any way evil is suffering from a severe case of narrow-mindedness.”

Ruda and Juniper looked at Trissiny; the others very pointedly did not. Trissiny drew in a deep breath and let it out through her teeth, but said nothing.

“Anyway!” Tellwyrn said brightly. “Welcome to Sarasio, kids. Let’s unload our junk, we don’t want to keep the caravan waiting.”

They drifted toward the baggage car, belatedly studying their new surroundings. The first and most immediate thing the students noticed was that they were not in Sarasio. The Rail platform stood alone on the prairie, with subtly rolling land dotted with a patchier, more uneven sort of tallgrass than grew around Last Rock dusting the area. To the west, the ground smoothed out into the Golden Sea, and there were other interesting features in the near distance. A forest grew about a mile to the east, and the road north led to a huddle of buildings beneath a drifting cloud of firewood smoke, evidently Sarasio itself.

The platform itself was severely run down compared to its counterpart in Last Rock. There was no ticket office to be seen, just the flat stone platform and a small wooden frame over which a canvas awning had been stretched as meager protection from the elements. The wood had been painted at one point—blue, to judge by the flecks that still remained. The awning had holes and had fallen entirely on one end, waving dolorously in the faint breeze. Old cans, broken glass, scraps of wood and other miscellaneous trash littered the ground.

“Suddenly I’m glad we packed light,” said Gabriel. “Damn, never thought I’d find myself missing Rafe and his pants of holding.”

“I’ll be sure to mention to Professor Rafe how eager you are to get into his pants,” Ruda said cheerily.

Gabriel sighed. “You just had to, didn’t you?”

“I really, really did.”

Trissiny hefted her own knapsack, hoisting it over one shoulder so it left her hands free, keeping an eye on their surroundings. They weren’t alone. Sitting around a small, weak campfire were three men in denim and flannel, with scuffed boots and ten-gallon hats that had clearly seen better days. Though they were just sitting, their postured hunched and uninterested, two were clutching wands and the third had a staff in his hands, and all three were staring fixedly at the group on the platform, unease written plain on their faces.

“What’s their story, I wonder,?” Toby murmured, glancing at them.

“Oh, they’re probably just waiting there to rob anybody fool enough to ride the Rails to Sarasio,” Tellwyrn said brightly, loud enough to be plainly audible. “Of course, they probably weren’t expecting a paladin, a dryad and a drow. If they knew how dangerous the rest of you were, they’d already be running.”

Apparently the three men thought this was good advice; she hadn’t even finished speaking before they bolted to their feet and set off for the town at a run.

“Hey!” Trissiny shouted, grasping her sword and taking a step after them.

“Leave it, Avelea,” said Tellwyrn.

“They were actually going to—”

“Leave it. That is an order.”

“This is my—”

“Young lady, you are going to drop this and accompany the rest of us into town. You can do this under your own power, or be levitated and pushed ahead with a stick. Go for whatever you think best serves Avei’s dignity; I assure you, I have no preference.”

“Y’know, Professor, you could really stand to work on your social skills,” Gabriel commented.

“All my skills are at precisely the level I require, boy. Ah, here’s our escort, splendid.”

Another figure was rapidly approaching from the direction of the forest, this one mounted. She was, it quickly became clear, an elf astride a silver unicorn. She was dressed somewhat like Professor Tellwyrn, with a leather vest over a blousy-sleeved green shirt and trousers, but while Tellwyrn tended to wear simple pieces in fine fabrics, this elf was the opposite; her pants were coarse leather, but they and the vest were decorated with bright embroidery, and her blouse had been tie-died in shades of green and brown that would have made it effective forest camouflage. She had a short staff slung in a holster on her back, its end poking up over her blonde hair, which was tied back with a green bandana.

Drawing up adjacent to the platform, the elf hopped nimbly down from her mount before it had even stopped moving, landing lightly among them. This close, the small but beautifully engraved tomahawk hanging at her belt was visible.

“There you are,” Tellwyrn said in a satisfied tone. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten.”

“No need to be insulting, Arachne,” the elf replied. “I try not to loiter close to humans obviously bent on mischief. I was watching for you.”

“Students, I’ll let you all introduce yourselves as the opportunity arises, but this is Robin. She’ll be escorting you into town, and hopefully helping us deal with the local tribe.”

“Deal with them how?” Ruda demanded. “What are we doing here?”

“All in good time,” Tellwyrn said, smiling with a hint of smugness. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go arrange quarters for us. You catch up at your own pace.” She vaulted neatly from the platform onto the unicorn’s back; the animal pranced nervously at the unfamiliar rider, but plunged into motion at the merest squeeze of her knees. It bounded away in a series of fluid horizontal leaps, like a deer, with Tellwyrn balanced skillfully on its back.

“Huh,” said Gabe. “For some reason it seems odd that she knows how to ride.”

“She knows how to do a great many things,” Robin said dryly.

“Not how to plan ahead, apparently,” Ruda grunted. “Who packs nine people off to a town without arranging things ahead of time?”

“Many of Professor Tellwyrn’s actions seem calculated to force us to adapt and learn,” Shaeine noted. “Perhaps this is more of the same.”

“That may be part of it,” Robin said, nodding, “but in any case it would have been hard for even her to make arrangements anyway. Communications in and out of Sarasio are difficult at the moment. I suspect that’s why you’ve come.”

“What’s going on in Sarasio?” Trissiny asked with a frown. On her Rail trip to the University, the Imperial Surveyor she’d met had indicated the town was a trouble spot. But that had been months ago; surely he’d been on the way there to deal with it?

“It’s a long story, which you’ll be told in due time,” Robin replied, hopping lightly down from the platform. “Come along, now, no need to dawdle. Arachne will have plenty of time to make arrangements without us dragging our feet.”

They followed her, picking up baggage as they went. Per Tellwyrn’s instructions, they had packed lightly, everyone carrying no more than basic toiletries and a change of clothes. Evidently this wasn’t expected to be a long trip. Still, that was more than they’d been allowed to bring into the Golden Sea, the aim of that excursion having been outdoor survival as much as anything.

“So, you’re a friend of Professor Tellwyrn’s?” Toby asked their guide, walking with her in the head of the group.

Robin was silent for a few moments before answering not taking her eyes from the town ahead. “To the extent that she has friends, yes, I would like to think that I am. Arachne is, as you have doubtless discovered, a person who goes her own way.”

“This one’s got a knack for understatement,” Ruda snorted.

“It is not something very widely discussed among elves. The individual is respected, of course, but our tribes live in harmony with one another and the world as a way of life. Persons who run out into the world to do their own thing are seen as…disruptive. Tauhanwe are not widely welcomed among most tribes. My acquaintance with Arachne is, at best, tolerated.”

“Ansheh used that word, too,” Teal said, frowning. “Remember, Rafe’s friend from the Golden Sea? I thought I’d heard wrong, though… It translates as something like ‘person who stirs a pot.’”

“Tauhanwe translates more directly as ‘adventurer,’ Robin said, turning her head to smile at Teal. “But you have a solid grasp of the etymology. You studied elvish in school?”

Teal shook her head. “One of my parents’ best friends is an elf. He sorta helped raise me, actually; they work a lot.”

Robin nodded. “To be quite precise, the ‘pot’ referred to is what you would call a chamber pot.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of their footsteps.

“Hold on,” Gabriel said. “So basically Tellwyrn is known among elves as a shit-stirrer? That may be the single most appropriate thing I’ve ever heard.”

Trissiny did not join in on the round of laughter that followed, frowning into the distance ahead. By Robin’s description, Principia would be tauhanwe, too. What did that make her? If anything…

“So how do you know Tellwyrn?” Ruda asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time!”

“Ruda,” Trissiny said patiently, “when someone tells you ‘it’s a long story,’ that usually means they don’t want to get into it.”

“Yeah? And when someone keeps picking it it, that usually means they wanna hear it anyway.”

“No harm meant,” Gabriel assured their guide somewhat hastily, though Robin seemed totally unperturbed. “It’s just hard not to be curious. For being such a straight-shooting in-your-face person, Tellwyrn is damn hard to figure out.”

“Oh?”

“It’s tempting to conclude that she is simply mentally unbalanced or obstreperous,” Trissiny said. “But then out of nowhere she’ll do something…oddly kind. Or perceptive.”

“Wait, what?” Ruda said, frowning. “What’s she done that’s kind or perceptive?”

“You’ll know it if you see one,” Gabriel replied, “which is kinda the point. She’s so…cranky most of the time, it takes you by surprise.”

“Don’t judge Arachne too harshly,” Robin said, still watching the town. The monotonous nature of the prairie made perspective tricky and distance hard to judge; they hadn’t covered more than half the path. The Rail platform was a long way from the town…why? The elf went on before Trissiny could start considering it in any detail, however. “She has always been somewhat difficult, but she is generally reasonable. And she is devoted to her students, in her own way. Keep in mind that she is grieving; that will explain much of her behavior.”

“What?” Juniper looked shocked. “Grieving who? What happened?”

“I tell you this because knowing will help you understand her,” Robin said, “but I don’t advise raising the subject with her. Arachne lost her husband a little over a century ago.”

Gabriel let out an explosive sound of surprise that started as a laugh and finished as a gasp in reverse. “What, a century? I dunno how much that excuses. I mean, sure, it’s very sad, but that’s plenty of time to get over it.”

Robin glanced over at him. “You must be Gabriel.”

He turned to watch her warily, the levity fading from his face. “Yeeeaah. That’s me. For some reason, I suddenly feel offended and I’m not sure why.”

“That’s the little voice inside your head that tells you when you’re being a fucking dumbass,” Ruda informed him. “You might try listening to it before talking, just for a change of pace.”

“How would you like it, Gabriel,” Robin went on calmly, “if I pointed out in conversation that you are a snub-eared land ape with the lifespan of a prairie dog?”

Gabe actually stopped walking, staring at her in shock. “Excuse me?”

“No?” Robin glanced back at him, but did not slow her pace, forcing him to start moving again or be left behind. “Then let us not pick at one another’s racial traits. In a group such as this, I would expect you to have learned that lesson long since.”

“He ain’t the quickest learner,” Ruda said with a grin, thumping Gabe with her elbow.

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Gabriel demanded.

“Immortality is not without its drawbacks,” she explained. “Humans do not live shorter lives so much as faster lives. You mature faster, and you heal faster, both physically and emotionally. For an elf, a papercut is an inconvenience for several weeks or months. A broken bone means a year at least of inaction. Luckily we do not cut or break as easily as you. To an elf, however, a heartbreak dominates the mind for longer than the average human lives. I assure you, to an elf, the loss of a mate a century ago is a very raw wound indeed. So have a little patience with Arachne. She lives with a great deal of pain, and yet devotes her energies to educating people who will likely be dead before she herself is fully healed.”

Nobody found anything to say to that, and they walked on in silence for a while. At least until the edges of the town drew closer, and they came within viewing range of Sarasio’s scrolltower. It was harder to spot than most of its kind because this one was horizontal.

The metal framework of the tower itself was in pieces, bent and snapped in multiple places, forming a ragged line between the shattered crystal orb that now lay on the prairie and the burned out husk of the office that had been at its foot. Only the two largest pieces of the orb remained; they were probably the only two pieces too big to carry away. The larger of the two would have been difficult to fit into a wagon. Scrolltower crystal wasn’t high quality and would degrade quickly once separated into bits, but it was still laden with potent magic. There was value in such things.

“What the hell…” Gabriel whispered, frowning.

“Welcome to Sarasio,” Robin said dryly. “Keep your eyes open and your wits about you; this is not a friendly place.”

She wasn’t kidding.

The town wasn’t as badly repaired as the Rail platform had been; obviously people lived here and took at least some care of their environs. Next to Last Rock, however, it was a shambles. A number of windows were boarded up, and nearly every building had some small touch that was in need of repair—peeling paint, broken gutters, missing shingles. The streets were dirt, and in awful repair, marred by deep wheel ruts and potholes, with a liberal spattering of animal droppings, which added unpleasantly to the sharp smell of wood smoke hanging in the air.

Worst, though, were the people.

The only individuals out on the street were men. None were well-dressed, and all were armed. Most could have done with a bath and a shave. It wasn’t their general scruffiness that made the group draw closer together, though, but their behavior. At this time of day, townsfolk should be working, or possibly socializing, depending on their jobs, but the men of Sarasio—at least, those currently visible—seemed totally idle. They lounged against storefronts on the mouths of alleys, faces blank and eyes narrowed, staring—in many cases, glaring—at the new arrivals. Far too many hands crept toward holstered wands.

“Good gods,” Gabriel murmured. “Professor Tellwyrn just ran this gauntlet. I wonder if she killed anybody.”

“The body would still be here if so,” Robin said quietly. “These people are not quick to care for each other. But this is more hostility than they usually show, even accounting for my presence. I suspect she did something.”

“Your presence?” Shaeine asked softly. She had put her hood up as they approached the town, despite the early hour and her shaded glasses, and now kept her hands tucked into her sleeves. Without skin or hair showing, her race was hidden, which was doubtless to the good.

“Elves are not well thought of in Sarasio at the moment,” Robin replied dryly.

“Here we go,” Toby muttered as a cluster of four stepped out of an alley ahead of them, pacing to the center of the street. Two more men crossed from the other side to join them, placing themselves in a staggered formation to bar the whole road. One stepped forward, his thumbs tucked into the front of his belt.

“Morning, gentlemen,” Toby said more loudly as their group came to a stop. “Something we can help you with?”

The man in the lead eyed him up and down once, then twisted his mouth contemptuously and spat to the side before addressing Robin. “Get on outta here, elfie. Your kind ain’t wanted.”

“I have a simple errand to run,” Robin replied calmly. “I’ll be on my way then.”

“You’ll be on your way now,” he snapped, then grinned unpleasantly and took another step forward. “’less you wanna make yourself useful, first. Only one use I can see for an elf bitch that don’t involve stringin’ them ears on a necklace.” He dragged his eyes slowly down Robin’s figure, smirking, while his companions grinned and snickered.

“Boy, it’s like they want to get smote,” Gabriel muttered. Indeed, Trissiny dropped her pack in the street and stalked forward, pushing past Toby, and stepped right up into the man’s face until her nose was inches from his. She was very nearly his height. He reared back slightly in surprise, but didn’t give ground or move his feet.

“Move,” she said simply, her voice deadly quiet.

“Yeah?” he drawled. “Or what? This ain’t no place for a Legionnaire, girl. Or didn’t your mama ever teach you not to bring a sword to a wandfight?”

Another round of guffaws followed this, instantly cut off as light erupted from Trissiny. The man in the lead threw a hand up to shield his eyes, staggering back; with his other, he yanked his wand from its holster, but not before Trissiny slammed her shield into his chest.

Reeling, he nonetheless managed to bring the wand up and fired a lightning bolt directly at her torso at point blank range.

Sparks flew from the sphere of golden energy that had formed around her; those standing closest felt their hair rise from the static electricity.

“What the f—” He got no further as Trissiny stepped calmly forward, reversed her grip on her sword and slammed the pommel into his solar plexus. The man crumpled to the street with a wheeze, and she stomped hard on his wand hand. He emitted a strangled sound that didn’t quite manage to be a scream, the breath having been driven from him. It wasn’t loud enough to cover the crack of breaking fingers.

Trissiny pointed her sword at his head, the blade burning gold. From the nimbus of light around her, golden eagle wings coalesced, flaring open in a display of Avei’s attention.

“Never point your wand at a paladin, fool,” she said coldly, then lifted her gaze to the nearest of his allies. “Does anyone else want to try me?”

They broke and ran, vanishing back into the alleys. All up and down the street, figures shifted backward, sliding into doors and alleyways or just folding themselves into shadowed corners. Within a minute, they had the street to themselves.

“That was overly dramatic,” Robin said, her neutral tone giving no indication what she thought of it. “You very likely just bought yourself another visit from this poor fool’s friends, when they think they have the advantage.”

“What will be, will be,” Trissiny said, removing her boot from the fallen man’s hand. He gasped, cradling his crushed fingers against his chest and scuttling backward away from him.

“We could offer him a healing,” Shaeine said.

“We could,” Trissiny said coldly, “but we won’t. Right?” She gave Toby a sharp look. He returned her gaze, then looked back at the man who had now scrambled to his feet and was fleeing to the nearest alley, leaving his wand lying in the street. Toby’s mouth drew into a thin line, his eyebrows lowering, but he only shook his head and said nothing. Trissiny felt a sharp pang, but dismissed it. She had her duty. The light faded from around her.

“Well,” Robin said with a shrug, “on we go, then.”

They made no further conversation until they reached their goal. Down a couple of side streets, they came to a fairly large building in somewhat better repair than most of Sarasio seemed to be. The wooden sign above its doors proclaimed it to be the Shady Lady in a curly font. Two large men wearing grim expressions flanked the doors, ostentatiously carrying wands. Unlike most of the town’s inhabitants, though, they were clean-shaven and well-dressed in neat suits. They looked over the group but made no move to challenge their approach.

“What’s this?” Juniper asked curiously. “What makes you think Tellwyrn is here?”

“There are exactly two places in Sarasio where a party of this size can find room and board,” Robin said. “The other is neither clean nor safe. The Shady Lady is not my kind of place, but it is, in a sense, an island in a sea of squalor. In we go.”

So saying, she hopped lightly up the steps and pushed through the swinging doors. The two guards watched her enter, then returned their stares to the students, but held their peace. One by one, the nine of them stepped inside.

True to Robin’s word, the interior of the Shady Lady was a sharp contrast to the rest of Sarasio. The wide-open main room soared two stories tall and was well-lit and spotlessly clean. The furnishings and décor were of good quality and showed understated good taste, running toward highly polished wood and fabrics in dark jewel tones, with subtle brass accents. It had clearly all been decorated with an eye to theme; everything matched. A spiral staircase led to a second-floor balcony; a grand piano sat in one corner, being played right now—the music wasn’t audible from the street, suggesting a sound-dampening enchantment on the building—and a heavy wooden bar lined one side of the room, behind which were a huge assortment of gleaming bottles. Most of the floor area was taken up by round tables encircled by chairs.

More startling, though, were the people present. There were three more burly guards in suits, as well as a man with a handlebar mustache behind the bar, presently polishing a glass mug; he looked up at them and smiled. A lean young man was playing the piano, his attention fully focused on the keys. Several of the tables were occupied by customers. Most of those present, though, were young women, and most were in nothing more than lingerie. Perched on the bar—and on the piano—seated with customers and laughing flirtatiously, leaning over the balcony rail, they had scattered themselves around the area like merchandise on a showroom floor.

“Um,” Gabriel said hesitantly. “…never mind.”

“No, go on,” Ruda insisted, grinning from ear to ear. “What’s on your mind, Gabe?”

“I said never mind. I’m following our advice, Ruda. The little voice is telling me I’m about to say something dumb.”

“Is it telling you to ask if we’re in a brothel?” she asked, her grin stretching till it looked almost painful. “’Cos if so, your timing sucks, as usual. You picked the one moment when you’d have been right to start keeping your mouth shut. Because we are, in fact, in a brothel.”

“How?” Teal demanded, then lowered her voice. “I mean… I know brothels exist, but how could somebody run one this big, and this…fancy?”

“Supply and demand,” Toby murmured. “Can you really see someone setting up a temple of Izara in this town?”

“Okay, that’s a point.”

“What’s a brothel?” Juniper asked curiously. Shaeine leaned in close and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in her ear. The dryad’s eyes widened. “You can sell that?!”

A hush descended on the room, all eyes shifting to the party at the door. Then the pianist resumed his piece, and others gradually went back to what they’d been doing.

Juniper, meanwhile, shook her head slowly. “Man, humans are bonkers.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Trissiny agreed.

“Um. Well, yes. When I’m right, I by definition am right. I’m not sure why that needs to be said.”

“It’s one of those figures of speech,” Fross told her.

“Oh.”

“Yoo hoo!” Professor Tellwyrn sang. She was seated at a large round table across the room with several other people, and now waved enthusiastically at them. “Over here, kids! Chop chop!”

They dutifully trooped over to join her, Robin falling to the rear as they crossed the room and arranged themselves in the empty space near her table.

Tellwyrn, uncharacteristically, seemed to have made friends. A teenage boy in an extremely well-tailored suit sat next to her. He looked a few years younger than the University students, certainly not old enough to be hanging out in a place like this. A deck of cards sat under his gently drumming fingers on the table; the huge piece of tigerseye set in his bolo tie flashed distractingly. He nodded politely to them at their approach.

On Tellwyrn’s other side, Trissiny was surprised to note, sat Heywood Paxton, the Imperial agent she had met and blessed several months ago on his way to Sarasio. He didn’t even look up, now, staring morosely at the center of the table, his mind clearly elsewhere. He had lost weight, and to judge by the bags under his eyes, sleep.

The fourth person present was seated with her back to them, but on their arrival she turned in her chair, draping her arm across the back to eye them over. She was a slim woman with a bronze complexion, with a long, sharp face that was subtly lovely though disqualified for true beauty by a slightly beakish nose. She wore a close-fitting red dress that showed a daring amount of cleavage, and had her black hair pinned up in an elaborate bun bedecked with scarlet feathers and rubies.

“Well, hello,” she purred. “So you’re Arachne’s students? What an absolute pleasure. You can call me Lily.”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

4 – 1

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

The crow ruffled its feathers and shook itself, emitting a muted croak, but did not stir from its perch in the rafters. Just outside the awning, rain pattered down upon the streets of Tiraas, as rain so often did. It was a cool day, cooler than it had been recently, but not quite cold yet; not quite so bad that the oven and open lamps in the little pastry stand didn’t keep its inside comfortable, despite the fact that the entire front was open to the elements.

“Nice bird,” remarked the boy, peering up at it while rolling a coin across the backs of his knuckles. “Where’d you get something like that?”

“It’s not mine,” said the woman behind the counter. Her face was neutral, her tone polite—too neutral, too polite. They were alone in the stand at present, the rain not being conducive to much foot traffic in the market street, and the tension between them was almost tangible, for all that it ran one way. The young man seemed perfectly at ease. “I give it scraps sometimes and so far it hasn’t tried to steal any. I think it’s somebody’s pet, though. Doesn’t act like a wild crow.”

“You ought to do something about that, then,” he said lazily, then flapped a hand at the bird. “Shoo! Go on, you’re unsanitary!”

The crow hopped to one side, not even bothering to take wing, and tilted its head, watching him. With a shrug, he turned back to survey the hot pastries on display under the glass counter.

“Ah, the hell with it. Do something about it though. I don’t want to see that bird here next time I visit.”

“Anything for a customer,” she replied, her voice weighted with sarcasm.

He smirked. “A bit of an attitude today, eh? Just for that, I believe I’ll have a cream puff along with the meat pie. A little dessert’s just the thing to work off the hurt your sharp tongue has done to my feelings.”

“You know,” she said stiffly, not reaching into the pastry case yet, “I do have to make a living.”

“So do we all, cupcake,” he said, grinning. “A pastry now and then won’t bankrupt you.”

“One of my most expensive pastries every day, on the other hand…”

“Well, that’s what you get for overcharging,” he said glibly. “Chop chop, now. Some of us have better things to do with our time than loiter around a till all day.”

The crow emitted a loud, hoarse squawk, flapping its wings once without lifting off its perch. He half-turned to glance up at it in irritation, then started violently, catching a glimpse of the front of the stall. Two figures now stood there, silent as moonlight.

“Omnu’s breath,” he breathed, placing a hand over his chest, then grinned weakly. “You startled me, ladies.”

“Did we,” said the one on the left. They were elves, dressed in simple blouses and trousers of modest quality, damp with rain. Both stared at him with an utter lack of expression. His grin faltered.

“I… Eh, well, no harm done. I’ll be out of your way in just a moment, as soon as this slowpoke here hands over my breakfast.”

“Will you,” said the other tonelessly. As one, they stepped forward, twice. In the small space this placed them all in very cramped proximity. Ordinarily he’d have felt quite differently about being packed in so close with a pair of pretty, exotic young women, but there was a subtle threat in their cold demeanor.

“I think you can wait,” said the first, then looked past him to the woman behind the counter. “The usual, please, Denise.”

“Keep the change,” added the other, tossing something. Denise caught it awkwardly, clearly not used to such maneuvers, and then boggled down at the well-stuffed coin purse in her hand, its strings neatly sliced. She wasn’t the only one.

“I—wh—hey!” the young man exclaimed, more shocked than angry. “That’s mine!”

“Is it?” said the first elf mildly. “It appears to be hers, now.”

“Now listen here,” he said, outrage welling up on his features. “You don’t know what you’re meddling in, girls. I’m a member of the Thieves’ Guild!”

At that, they both grinned. Broadly. He flinched.

“Are you,” said the second elf.

“Whose apprentice?” added the first.

“W-what makes you think I’m an apprentice?” he stammered, trying to draw himself upright. The crow emitted a coarse chuckling noise, and he ruined the effect he was going for by flinching again.

“First,” said the second elf, “a full member of the Guild would know better than to abuse our privileges in the city. Shopkeepers toss us freebies because we deter pickpockets and cutpurses; a tidbit here and there costs them a lot less than a city full of ne’er-do-wells would. The system is there to benefit everyone. It is not carte blanche for you to walk all over people and do whatever the hell you please.”

“Second,” said the other, “a full member of the Guild would know better than to announce his membership, in public, to strangers.”

“Third…” The second elf leaned in close to him, her grin broadening to proportions that resembled that of a wolf. “A full member of the Guild who behaved this way would be dragged into the basement of the Guild headquarters and have things broken. Fingers, definitely. Possibly knees. You, clearly, are just some dumb kid who doesn’t yet understand how things work. They’ll probably be more gentle with you. Maybe.”

“I—I—I—”

“Fourth,” added the first elf in an especially silky tone, “and not to blow our own horns or anything, any active Guild member in this city would recognize Sweet’s apprentices. I’m told we’re sort of…distinctive.”

He swallowed, loudly.

“What’s your name?”

“Who’s your trainer?”

“I—I…” He gulped again, finding a small measure of courage. “I don’t know you two. How do I know you are…who you say? I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“We don’t have to ask nicely,” the woman on the right said, her expression growing grim.

Denise cleared her throat. “Um, could you please ask nicely? I really, really don’t need any trouble in my stall, Flora.”

“Of course, my apologies.” Flora nodded to her, then returned her stare to the boy. “It needn’t come to any rough stuff, anyhow. We can simply follow him.”

“Ever been stalked by elves?” the other one said lazily. “You’ve probably read stories about dramatic bison hunts. Bows, staves, unicorn charges, all that. That’s plains elves, though. We’re from a forest tribe.”

“It’s called tela’theshwa,” said Flora. “Persistence predation, according to the scholars who felt the need to name it in Tanglish. No violence at all. We just follow our prey, at a walk, until it drops dead from exhaustion. He’s a robust specimen, Fauna, but I bet he gets tired before we do.”

“You have to go home sometime,” Fauna told him in a singsong tone, grinning. “Us? We can go for days.”

“Weeks,” Flora corrected smugly. “We’re well-fed and well-rested.”

“Randal Wilcox,” he bleated. “I’m apprenticed to Grip!”

In unison, their eyebrows rose.

“You work under Grip,” Fauna said slowly, “and you do something like this?”

Flora shook her head. “Boy, you are almost too dumb to be alive.”

“He’d have been eaten by a cougar in the old country.”

“A cougar? Please, this numbnut would’ve been eaten by opossums.”

“Tell you what, Randy,” Fauna said. “Mind if I call you Randy? Swell. We’re heading back to the Guild ourselves, but not in any great hurry. We just stopped by for a bit of breakfast on the way.”

“I’m sure you noticed this stall is in a really convenient spot,” Flora added. “Nice place to grab a bite you can enjoy on a leisurely stroll.”

“It’ll take us a while to get there, is what we’re saying. Half an hour, maybe?”

“Eh, twenty minutes.”

“Aw, I wanted to feed the ducks!”

“I do not want to feed the ducks. It’s raining. The ducks are under shelter, like all sensible beings.”

“Spoilsport,” Fauna pouted. “Twenty minutes, then. That’s how long you’ve got to either get your ass back there, explain your fuck-up and hope Grip is in a reasonable mood for once… Or get out of Tiraas.”

“It’ll look better coming from you,” Flora added. “If they have to hear about this from us? Well, then Grip will be embarrassed on top of pissed off. Makes her look bad in front of Sweet. Rumor has it she gets really crabby when somebody makes her look bad.”

“Of course, if you—” Fauna broke off, dodging nimbly as Randal shoved past her and took off at a sprint.

“Heh.” Flora leaned out from under the awning to watch him go. “Wait for it, wait for…aw, he didn’t fall. Guess he knows where the slippery patch is.”

“I keep telling you, just because humans can’t see in the dark doesn’t mean they’re blind. Anyhow!” Fauna smiled winsomely at Denise. “Sorry about all that. Some people, right? I don’t mean to rush you, or anything…”

“Oh! Sorry.” Belatedly, the shopkeeper began loading a couple of meat pies into folds of waxed paper for easy carrying. “Got distracted by all the…well. Um, stop me if it’s not my business, but…what’s gonna happen to him?”

“Not sure.”

“Not really interested.”

“Not our problem.”

“I can tell you this much,” Fauna added. “If you ever see him in here again, it’ll be so he can deliver an apology, and possibly some monetary remuneration.”

“I wouldn’t make a claim like that against the Thieves’ Guild,” Denise said carefully, keeping her eyes on her hands as she folded the pies up neatly.

“Please,” Flora said earnestly, “make claims like that. That kind of crap makes us all look bad. The Guild doesn’t stand for it; we don’t pick on honest tradespeople who are just getting by. It’s bad for everyone’s business and bad for our rep.”

“I understand if you’re not comfortable going to the casino to talk to somebody,” Fauna said. “The Church is available for that, though. You can leave a message for Bishop Darling at the Cathedral; anybody ever hassles you like this again, do so and he’ll take care of it.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” she demurred, sliding their wrapped pies across the glass counter. “Here you go, girls.”

Flora caught her hand, gently, and held it until Denise looked up to meet her eyes. She was smiling, an authentically warm expression totally unlike the one she’d given Randal. “You’re safe with Guild members,” she said softly. “The only reason a Guild thief would harm you is if you’d done something to royally deserve it.”

“And, no offense, I have a hard time picturing you being so adventurous,” Fauna added, grinning.

“You’re even safer than most,” Flora said with a wink. “Because now we have something to prove to you.”

Denise gently pulled her hand back, managing a weak grin and an awkward little laugh. “Aha…well… Like I said… Yeah, you’re right, I’m not the pushy kind. I wouldn’t want to be a bother. I’ll tell you what, though, your next visit’s on the house.”

The crow chuckled softly to itself and finally took wing, flapping out into the rain.


“Nineteen,” said Archpope Justinian, “in the last month. I never held out much hope that Asherad’s murder would be an anomalous event; far too much effort had to have gone into it. In the lull that followed, though…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

The four Bishops assembled for his little cabal sat around the conference table in the Archpope’s private study, wearing grim expressions, as the subject deserved.

“I’d say we’re in the opposite of a lull now,” Basra said once it was clear the pontiff had finished speaking. “Four weeks of this is having what I’m sure was the intended effect. It’s getting harder and harder to get any kind of cooperation from individual cults that they don’t absolutely have to offer. They can tell which way the wind’s blowing.”

“And which way is that?” Darling asked. “I mean, what do the victims have in common? Is there a theme here? My Guild hasn’t lost anybody, but we’ve all but stopped operations in the city in the last week. The Boss thinks it’s too risky for any kind of cultist to be operating until something’s done.”

“There’s a theme,” Basra said, glancing at the Archpope. “It’s…sensitive. I’m sure you wouldn’t want—”

“The murdered all have two things in common,” Justinian said gravely. “First, they were individuals of such character that if the world knew what I know, there might not be so much an outcry at their deaths.”

“How can there be that many people like that among the cults of the Pantheon?” Branwen whispered, horrified.

“That many would have to just about cover it,” Darling ruminated. “There are rotten people everywhere, Bran, and not all gods are as compassionate as Izara. But…you’re not wrong, it strains credulity that every cult is so corrupt you can just walk in and kill somebody who deserves it. Which raises a whole host of other disturbing questions…”

“Indeed,” said the Archpope, nodding. “Which reflects upon the second point they had in common: each of these individuals was involved in a corrupt or shady program run by the Universal Church itself.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Such as?” Andros finally said, staring as sharply at the Archpope as he could probably get away with.

“I’ll make full documentation available to each of you if you request it,” said Justinian, folding his hands on the table before him. “However, before we delve into such details, let me pose a question. This is in line with your inquiry, Antonio. How much longer can this go on? Someone is clearly making a considerable effort to clean house. How much more cleaning, in your estimation, is required?”

“Corruption is a hard thing to pin down across different religions,” Basra said after a pause. “Antonio’s people do things as a matter of doctrinal obligation that’d get anyone thrown out of my Sisterhood.”

“And vice versa,” Darling said wryly. “In fact, we could go clockwise around the table and talk about how everybody’s faith is a tangle of depravity from the perspective of somebody else’s, so let’s take it as given and…not. I think that’s dodging the issue, though. Or, your Holiness, are these people really being targeted over doctrinal issues?”

“I can unequivocally say that they are not,” Justinian said solemnly. “The four slain this week included a known pedophile, and two individuals involved in a Church-run operation which has been financing actual witch hunts along the frontier.”

“People still do that?” Branwen said, aghast.

“In that case,” Andros growled, “perhaps this killer is doing us a favor.”

“Oh, please,” said Basra dismissively. “Making the bad people go away is a child’s solution to improving the world. You can’t fix societal problems through assassination.”

“Besides,” Darling added, “it’s fairly obvious that the thrust of this is to create a stir, not just to get rid of the individuals who’ve been…gotten rid of. A wedge is being driven between the Church and its member cults. I can’t imagine that’s anything but intentional, if not the entire point.”

“And,” said Justinian, nodding, “it carries an additional message to us, who know the secrets of those being targeted. Our foe knows these secrets too, and has the power to penetrate our defenses.”

“The Wreath,” Branwen murmured.

“It almost has to be,” Basra agreed, “but…how? Why now?”

“Why now seems obvious enough,” said Darling. “We just escalated the conflict with them considerably. Specifically those of us sitting in this room.”

“Okay, fine, but that leaves the bigger question,” she said impatiently. “How? If the Wreath had the capacity to do things like this, they’d have been doing them. For a very long time. What’s changed?”

“We changed the rules of the engagement,” said Andros. “It would be poor strategy for them to accept battle on our terms. They are altering the conditions in turn, forcing us to act on theirs.”

“Again,” Basra exclaimed, “how? We can talk whys and wherefores until we’re all blue in the face, but the hard truth is that somebody is slipping through the sturdiest magical defenses in existence and slaughtering people who should be powerful enough to prevent this from happening to them. That should be our biggest concern!”

“The issue,” said Justinian firmly, drawing their attention back to him, “is that in previous times, our engagements with the Wreath have always been that: with the Wreath. They’ve employed outside agents throughout their history when it served their ends, usually as a method of preserving their anonymity, but the actual campaigns of the cult itself have been carried out by Elilinist warlocks. Those are methodologies with stark limitations, which are very familiar to us. What has changed is that they are sending someone else, now. Consider what a temple’s defenses are meant to ward off. Could any of your strongholds deter, say, an Imperial strike team, with professional fighters wielding multiple systems of magic?”

“Most of mine could,” Basra said with a hint of smugness, then added somewhat ungraciously, “probably several of Andros’s, too.”

“But most temples in general, no,” said Branwen. “That being the case…why are we certain that the Wreath is behind this at all?”

Justinian spread his hands in a shrug. “Who else?”

“This was all kicked off by Elilial opening a new project,” Darling said, frowning thoughtfully into the distance. “We may have accelerated her timetable somewhat, but we shouldn’t rule out that some or all of this was planned from the beginning.”

“Just so,” said the Archpope, “and it is for that reason that we are going to continue to let it happen, for now.”

“Excuse me?” Basra said shrilly.

“Andros has raised a couple of extremely pertinent points,” Justinian went on, his calm a stark contrast to her agitation. “Whatever the additional effects, our house is being cleaned, and I would be dissembling if I did not acknowledge some relief. I inherited a huge bureaucracy in this Church, my friends, and some of my predecessors were… Well. Suffice it to say that the Throne does not hold a monopoly on political ruthlessness. Our enemy is hurting us, yes, but they are also destroying dead weight and counterproductive elements, not to mention relieving us of a moral burden by excising corruption. There is an incidental benefit to us in this.”

“You can’t be suggesting we don’t do something to deal with this,” Darling protested, then added belatedly, “your Holiness.”

“Indeed I am not, which brings me to Andros’s other point. The rules have been changed on us. I intend to change them again. The Wreath is managing to strike at our strength without engaging us directly; we shall do likewise. To that end, my friends, the time has come for us to put an end to the Age of Adventures.”

There was silence in the room. The Bishops glanced around the table at each other, avoiding the Archpope’s eyes.

“What, nothing?” Justinian actually grinned. “Antonio? Basra? Someone give us the obligatory witticism.”

“That seems a little…belated, your Holiness,” Basra said carefully.

“Quite so.” The Archpope rested his hands flat on the table and leaned forward at them, his face now focused and stern again. “And that makes this project doubly important. Recently, Antonio, your cult was peripherally involved in an engagement with Arachne Tellwyrn which was disrupted by one Longshot McGraw, is that not so?”

“It is,” Darling said slowly.

“McGraw and his ilk, which includes Tellwyrn herself, are the last fading echoes of a long dead era,” Justinian went on. “Civilization as it stands now is not tolerant of people who choose ‘adventuring’ as a career. Those who do so successfully manage because of the degree of their skill. They are, simply put, so dangerous that it is not worthwhile trying to rein them in, so long as they do not cause problems on a massive scale.”

“If you hope to exterminate free spirits,” Andros rumbled, “you will be frustrated.”

“You are quite correct, my friend, we shall always have such characters with us. But there are more of them now in the world than the world needs, and this is the resource the Wreath has leveraged against us.”

“You think this is being done by adventurers?” Basra exclaimed.

“Those who are actually good at that sort of work don’t call themselves such,” Justinian replied. “But…yes. Powerful, dangerous people who make their way in life by wielding that power. The Age of Adventures is long over. We don’t need them in the world anymore. Now, it seems some have allowed themselves to be used against the Universal Church. We will deal with this, solve a societal problem, and deprive the Black Wreath of the resource it is using to terrorize us.”

“The Wreath is a difficult foe precisely because they’re hard to pin down,” Darling said, frowning. “But at least they’re an organization. Adventurers…even the really dangerous ones…are barely even a community. It’s not like we can just round them up.”

“I was hardly suggesting a pogrom, nor would I if such a thing were feasible. Which, as you have rightly pointed out, it is not. We must act carefully. I am not jumping to conclusions, here, my friends; it is based on solid information that I believe the Wreath is contracting exceptional professional individuals to attack our cults. We will do two things: in the broader and longer term, change the environment of the city such that any such people will work at our behest or not at all. And, more immediately, we will identify the perpetrators of these crimes specifically and deal with them.”

“Splendid,” Basra said, smiling. Andros nodded sharply in agreement.

“That’ll stop this from happening, all right,” Darling said. “Assuming was can pull it off. And what then?”

“Basra was correct in that eliminating problematic people is a partial solution at best. I think, perhaps, we can find a better use for our enemies than the Black Wreath can. It certainly will be safest, I believe, not to approach them…confrontationally.”

He met the Archpope’s eyes, nodding slowly in acquiescence, the thoughtful frown on his own face unfeigned. Justinian’s visage was calm, open; his eyes were unthreatening, but glittered with intelligence. They revealed no hint at how much he knew.


“Man…I do not wanna ride this thing,” Gabriel groaned.

“Ask me how much I care what you want,” Tellwyrn said breezily. She turned to stare at him, planting her hands on her hips, and grinned. “Go on, ask. It’ll be funny.”

“Is it absolutely necessary for you to be a jerk?”

“In the long run, Mr. Arquin, you’ll find that few things are truly necessary or in any way meaningful. In the shorter term, I find being a jerk is often an effective way of accomplishing my goals. Now hop to, time and the Imperial Rails wait for no one!”

So saying, she clambered into the lead car of the Rail caravan waiting for them on Last Rock’s platform. Gabriel grumbled under his breath, but went to help Toby and Ruda finish stowing their baggage in the cargo car at the rear.

Trissiny drew in a deep breath, looking with some trepidation at the assembled caravan. Her own journey along the Rails was a vivid and uncomfortable memory. They had three cars to themselves, which was a little bit excessive with only nine people (one of whom was a pixie), but condensing their party into two would have been cramped indeed—and a cramped party on the Rails was a bad idea.

“I can’t decide if this’ll be better or worse than our last excursion,” Teal murmured, standing just behind Trissiny with Shaeine. “I mean…we’re going someplace civilized instead of into the wilderness…”

“Yeah, I’m worried about that, too,” Juniper admitted, chewing her lower lip. “In the wilderness you know what to expect. There are rules. Civilized people might up and do anything at all. But hey, we won’t be alone! We’ve got a teacher with us.”

“That, I believe, is Teal’s other concern,” Shaeine said, glancing at Teal with a raised eyebrow. The bard grinned back at her.

“You know me so well.”

“Well, anything’s bound to be better than Rafe,” Trissiny said grimly. “And Tellwyrn…isn’t without redeeming qualities.”

“Aww,” came Professor Tellwyrn’s voice from the open hatch of the lead car. “Dear diary!”

Trissiny sighed, gritting her teeth.

“Welp, that’s about all the procrastination we can squeeze into this,” Gabriel said, dusting off his hands as he rejoined them. “Everything packed away and nothing left to stop us from hopping into this demented death machine on our way to Sarasio. Wherever the fuck that is.”

“It’s a frontier town,” said Teal, “not so much like Last Rock and more like the ones you read about in cowboy novels. Cattle raids, attacks by tribes of wild elves, wandfights in the streets. All that good stuff.”

Gabe snorted. “And she expects us to what? Burn it to the ground?”

“I suspect we will learn her intentions in due time,” Shaeine said evenly. “Considering how much of our final grades are resting on the outcome of this expedition, I do not imagine it will be anything so…simple.”

“Not that we’d burn down a town anyway,” Toby said firmly.

“Of course.”

“All right,” said Trissiny, “given the makeup of our group, I think we should split up healers. Juniper, Shaeine and Gabriel should ride together; their healing won’t hurt him if he gets hurt, and they can heal each other or themselves.”

“I won’t get hurt anyway,” Gabriel grumbled. “I’ll just get motion sickness so bad I wish I was dead.”

Trissiny glanced at him, then at Shaeine, then at Teal. “Teal, you should go with that group. You’re also pretty durable…”

“Pretty much indestructible, actually.”

“…but if the unforseeable should happen, you’ll still be with the healers who won’t hurt Vadrieny by using their magic.”

“Sounds good!” Teal said with a broad grin, edging closer to Shaeine. “Shall we then?”

“That was nicely handled,” Toby murmured to her as the four of them trooped into the middle car and began ducking inside, one at a time. Even lowering his voice he was well within Shaeine’s earshot; the significant look he gave her and Teal was the only hint to Trissiny of what he really meant. She met his smile with a wink.

“Strategic planning isn’t new to me.”

“Aw, you mean you didn’t set this up just for more quality time with me, roomie?” Ruda said, grinning. “I’m hurt. Really, I might cry.”

“Eh, that’s kind of reaching,” Trissiny said. “You’re not at your most cutting this early in the morning, are you?”

“Oh, you are asking for it, kid,” the pirate shot back, but she was still grinning. “Welp, we’re the last ones out. C’mon, Fross, let’s grab a seat.”

“I don’t really need a seat,” the pixie said, fluttering along obediently behind her. “I’ve never ridden in one of these before, though! I’m very curious!”

“Me either. I bet it’s gonna suck!”

Trissiny smiled at Toby. “Well, then. Onward to glory.”

He laughed, and her smile broadened. His laugh did that to her.

Alone in the lead car, Tellwyrn was smiling, too. Fortunately none of them could see it.

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

3 – 7

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

There were fourteen persons in the current sophomore class, and most days on which classes were held, the majority of them arrived early enough to have breakfast in the dining hall. So did the seniors, Toby and Gabriel and the three soldiers. The junior class rarely showed, nor did the girls of Clarke Tower. The freshman girls usually awoke to a fresh breakfast prepared by Janis. What arrangement the juniors had, Trissiny had never inquired; student housing on the campus was apparently somewhat idiosyncratic.

She replied to Toby’s welcoming smile with a nod, but didn’t pause as she passed his table, heading straight for the sophomores.

They were grouped around two tables, one circular and one rectangular, and her target sat at the latter. By happenstance or design the ten students seated there had arranged themselves with the girls on one side and boys on the other, and it was the girls who had a view of the door and the approaching paladin. Two of them, whom Trissiny didn’t know, watched her warily, but November gave her a brilliant smile, Hildred a cheerful wave, and Natchua narrowed her eyes.

Most of the boys she didn’t know either—Tanq apparently hadn’t come to breakfast this morning—but several turned to see who was approaching, including Chase and Jerome.

Chase, exhibiting a typical lack of self-awareness, grinned broadly at her. “Well! The prodigal paladin. I hope you enjoyed your little jaunt, kiddo. Tellwyrn’s gonna scrub out her sink with your scalp.”

Jerome was watching her with more appropriate wariness. Trissiny came to a stop by their table, pulled a libram from her largest belt pouch and carefully extracted the envelope that had been tucked into its cover for safekeeping. She held this out to Jerome.

“This is for you,” she said, “from your father.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. Across the table, Hildred covered her mouth with a hand, eyes wide; Natchua actually grinned faintly. “Why,” Jerome asked in a tightly controlled voice, “do you have a letter from my father?”

“I expect the contents will explain that,” she replied calmly, still holding it out. After staring at her for a long moment, he finally reached out and took it.

Not waiting to see any further reactions, Trissiny turned and left the dining hall.


 

“Hello, Trissiny.”

“Oh! Hi, Shaeine,” she replied, somewhat startled at being approached. She had been lost in her thoughts. It had been a mostly average morning with a few moments of tension, such as when Tellwyrn opened history class by giving her a blistering look. But no one had asked prying questions and even Tellwyrn hadn’t said anything further. Trissiny didn’t doubt for a moment that retribution for flouting the campus rules was coming; in fact, she was starting to wonder if stretching out the anticipation like this was part of the punishment. That would be exactly like Tellwyrn.

Now, in the lull between Intro to Magic and their lunch period, Shaeine had caught up with her on a winding path which Trissiny had selected specifically because it was a long route to nowhere and gave her time to think.

“Was your mission successful?” the drow inquired politely.

“Partially,” she said. “I had an unexpected interruption, and… I’m sort of stymied on half of what I set out to accomplish. But I did get some of it done.”

“I am glad to hear that much, at least.” Shaiene produced a small rectangular box from within the folds of her robe. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” Nonplussed, Trissiny accepted the box and lifted its lid. Nestled within was a folding knife. A remarkably thick one. “My goodness,” she said, carefully extracting it. “How many blades does this have?”

“Two, of different sizes. Most of those attachments are tools of various kinds. It has tweezers, bottle and can openers, scissors, a magnifying lens and several other items whose purpose I do not understand. Apparently these are manufactured in the dwarven kingdoms, and becoming quite popular among gnomish adventurers. You like useful things; I saw this in a shop in town and thought it would suit you well.”

“That’s…incredibly thoughtful,” Trissiny said, raising her eyes from the utility knife to Shaeine’s serene face. “You really shouldn’t have. How much do I owe you?”

Shaeine raised her eyebrows a fraction of an inch, then smiled faintly, permitting a touch of ruefulness into her expression. “Ah…forgive me, I failed to express myself clearly. That is a gift.”

“It is?” Trissiny’s response might have been less than polite, but she was startled. “Why? What’s the occasion?”

Shaeine glanced to the side for a moment as if marshaling her thoughts. “I must ask your pardon if I trespass upon a sensitive subject; I assure you it is inadvertent, if so. I know you have had a stressful time recently.”

“You…could say that.”

She nodded. “I have observed that Imperial customs favor feasting, gatherings of loved ones and gift-giving on celebratory occasions, and largely symbolic gestures and platitudes when someone has been hurt. Among my people, it is much the opposite. A friend’s most troubled moments are seen as the appropriate time to remind them that they are valued. And kind words do only so much.”

“I see,” she said slowly, feeling a smile stretch unbidden across her face. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, but full of feeling.

Shaeine nodded at her, and for once that polite little smile of hers didn’t seem standoffish. “Perhaps it is a failure on my part to adapt to local customs, but I cannot help feeling that in this instance, the Narisian way is the wiser.”

“I’d never thought about it, but now that you bring it up I think you have a point.” Trissiny turned the knife over in her hand silently for a moment. “Is it… Are you badly stressed by how things are up here? You left the party so early, I was concerned.”

The drow tilted her head, considering, and began moving at a slow pace; Trissiny fell into step beside her. “I would not claim that my culture shock is worse than yours,” she said at last, “but the particular nature of it may impact me more directly. Among my people, reserve is cultivated from early childhood primarily as a measure of respect for others. We live in very close quarters, and it can be stressful indeed to cope with the feelings of everyone around you, constantly pressed in upon your awareness. In Tar’naris, emotional openness is practiced between family members and occasionally other intimates. Among friends, colleagues and particularly strangers, we seek not to impose the weight of our feelings on others.”

“I see,” she said. That actually explained quite a bit.

Shaeine nodded. “Everything is so much louder and more open here; even still, I find myself constantly startled by the frankness of those around me. Yet, there is much more space in which we can spread out, so the pressure is mitigated somewhat. That party, though… It was an enclosed space filled with loud talk, laughter and a general…letting go of inhibitions. The proximity to so much feeling began very quickly to be an almost tangible pressure to me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said automatically.

“Please do not be, you’ve done no wrong. Nor did anyone else there. I suppose I am rather a poor diplomat, to be coming to terms with this culture so slowly.”

“I wouldn’t dismiss yourself that easily,” Trissiny protested. “It’s only been a couple of months. You’re already the most even-natured and understanding person I know.”

“I appreciate that very much.”

“So…are you empathic, then? Is that typical for drow?”

“No more than the average person anywhere, I suspect,” she said with a smile. “Merely unaccustomed to certain kinds of emotional expression. And, more to the point, certain volumes thereof.”

Trissiny nodded slowly. “With everything I learn about Narisian culture, I feel like I understand you a little better and Natchua a little less.”

“I have had the converse experience. With exposure to Imperial life, I am constantly gaining insights into my own culture that reflect its imperfections. Yet, I feel I’m developing an understanding of my cousin that I initially lacked.”

“You made it sound as if all the fuss and prattle up here was almost painful for drow.”

“I would draw a distinction between Narisians and drow in general. The Scyllithene drow are far more aggressive than any human I have ever met. As for pain…” She tilted her head, mulling. “Perhaps…in the way that slipping into a very cold pool is uncomfortable at first. Very quickly, it becomes bracing. At home I would never dream of revealing every thought or feeling that passed across my mind; it would be the height of disrespect to those around me, making them deal with my emotions on top of their own. But here, where everyone does exactly that and is accustomed to coping with it, where I might relax myself with the assurance that it is harming no one to do so… Well, I have begun to understand why Natchua has so fervently embraced Imperial life.”

“Yet you don’t, and she does.”

“Because I am more than my own desires. I am a representative of Tar’naris and House Awarrion; my conduct reflects upon my mother, my people and my queen. I would not dream of disappointing them. Besides, even as I grow to recognize that my culture has its flaws, it remains mine, the way of life in which I am invested. I feel no desire to show a lack of respect for it.”

Trissiny nodded. “I’ve been feeling much the same, in some ways. Strangely liberated, yet…focused.”

“Oh?” Shaeine raised an eyebrow.

To her own surprise, Trissiny laughed softly. “I’m half elf. Who would have thought it?”

“I suspected; you have the aspect, and it has been my impression that a typical human even in excellent shape would balk and running down and up the mountain stairs in full armor every morning. I saw neither opportunity nor reason to broach the subject, though.”

“Yes, a lot of things are suddenly making sense to me in hindsight. And at first I was… Scared, and upset, because it felt like I no longer knew who I was. But… I’ve come to see that as a blessing.”

Shaeine was silent as they walked, her head slightly tilted toward Trissiny to show her attention. After a moment spent gathering her thoughts, the paladin continued.

“Ever since Avei called me, I’ve felt the weight of expectations. It was like I couldn’t afford to be flawed any more. Everything I did reflected upon her, and the thought of letting her down was just…unbearable.”

“I doubt Avei would call any mortal to her service if she expected flawlessness.”

“Which I can understand intellectually,” she said, nodding, “but feeling it was a different matter. It doesn’t even make sense, really. This revelation has no bearing at all on my calling, but it’s somehow freeing. I’m not that girl I thought I was. I’ve been so wrong about something so pivotal, it’s like I’ve rediscovered the prerogative to be wrong. And,” she added, wincing, “in hindsight I keep finding things I’ve been wrong about, that I wouldn’t back down from because to retreat, any retreat, felt like failing my goddess.”

“Perhaps you should not discount the chance that she has had a hand in events,” Shaeine suggested. “It may be that this is her way of opening your mind.”

“That has occurred to me. Of course, it’s not the kind of thing you can up and ask a deity. They don’t generally seem inclined to explain themselves.”

“I have noticed that,” Shaeine said dryly.

“Trissiny!”

Trissiny managed not to wince at being called. November Stark was approaching them rapidly, wearing a bright smile. “Hi, November. Have a good weekend?”

“Hail and well met, Hand of Avei!” To Trissiny’s horror, she stopped and dropped to one knee, bowing her head. “I pray your mission met with success!”

“Please don’t do that!” Trissiny said in alarm, resisting the urge to grab the girl and drag her upright. “We don’t kneel. A Sister would salute a superior officer, but even the High Commander doesn’t get more than that.”

“Oh…ah, of course.” November bounced back upright, raised a hand and then let it hang in midair as if uncertain what to do with it. “Um, how do… I mean, what’s the proper way…”

“You don’t,” Trissiny said firmly. “You’re not a Legionnaire or even in the Sisterhood. Lay Avenists don’t owe me anything but basic courtesy.”

“That can’t be!” November insisted, staring ardently at her. “You’re the Hand of Avei, the chosen representative of our goddess on this world. Surely some show of respect—”

“Courtesy,” she interrupted, “is plenty of respect. Avenists don’t grovel or subjugate themselves. Even the goddess doesn’t demand that. Really, November, you’re overthinking it. Just be yourself.”

“I can do that,” she said, nodding eagerly, and Trissiny held back a sigh.

The Sisters of Avei prized discipline, order and clear thinking above mysticism and blind faith. These were the priorities their goddess encouraged. As a result, the cult didn’t tend to attract fanatics, and Trissiny had rarely met any. Mother Narny had told her that such women nearly always came from a background of some kind of abuse and desperately needed something to believe in. As such, she remained as patient and positive as she could with November, no matter how uncomfortable the girl made her.

“November, have you met Shaeine?” she said, seizing upon a distraction. “Shaeine nur Ashaele d’zin Awarrion, this is November Stark.”

“Pleasure,” November said distractedly, barely glancing at the drow before returning her gaze to Trissiny. There was an almost worshipful light in her eyes that the paladin found unsettling.

“The honor is mine,” Shaeine replied politely, despite the fact the person to whom she was being introduced was no longer paying her any mind, then she, too, returned her attention to Trissiny. “I must say that surprised me. I do not recall introducing myself by Narisian honorifics on this campus.”

“I looked it up,” she explained a little self-consciously. “It’s seemed to me you don’t get as much respect around here as you deserve… And maybe I still feel a little guilty about almost drawing steel on you when we first met.”

“I see,” the drow said quietly, then gave Trissiny one of those rare smiles that had real feeling behind it. “That was extremely thoughtful. You even got it right. I have been incorrectly addressed by members of the Imperial diplomatic corps on multiple occasions.”

“Oh, good, I was worried about that. I did my best, but you guys have a lot of honorifics and I’m none too sure I understand the hierarchies they all apply to.”

“Trissiny’s very considerate,” November said somewhat loudly. She was looking at Shaeine now, and her expression held tension verging on hostility. “You should see her in our divinity class.”

Trissiny was trying to recall what she’d done in divinity class that was particularly considerate when she was addressed by someone else to whom she really did not want to talk.

“Hey, Trissiny!” Gabriel called, strolling over to them. “Hi, Shaeine. Ms. Stark, good to see you,” he added almost deferentially, actually bowing his head. Despite herself, Trissiny felt amusement bubbling up. He really didn’t want to provoke November, and she couldn’t say he was wrong in that. It raised the question of what he wanted to urgently that he was willing to risk it.

“Gabriel,” she said calmly in unison with Shaeine’s greeting. November just stared at him through narrowed eyes.

“Sorry to bother you, I won’t be long,” he said almost hurriedly, “but this is the first time I’ve caught you since Friday, and I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“Well, y’know that fighting practice you do with Teal and Ruda in the mornings?”

“Yes, I know it,” she said carefully. “How do you?”

“It’s…sort of interesting to the gossip mill around here,” he said with a wince. “I was just wondering, I mean… If it’s a girls only thing, that’s fine, I won’t bother you, I know how it is with Avenists sometimes. But if not, would you mind if I tagged along?”

“You?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Why?”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed in class…and I’m pretty sure you have…I kind of suck at fighting,” he said, grinning ruefully. “And you’re the best one in the class. If you’re teaching people anyway… I mean, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d really like to benefit from your experience.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, and he actually took a step back.

“Hey, if not, that’s fine, I don’t want to be a bother. It was just a—”

“You’re coaching other students in hand-to-hand combat?” November burst out, her eyes practically shining.

Trissiny pressed down a sudden urge to slug Gabriel on general principles.

“YOU!” Jerome roared, stalking toward her from the bend in the path up ahead. In his fist was clutched a crumpled sheet of paper.

“You are extremely popular of late,” Shaeine commented quietly.

“This one, at least, I was expecting,” Trissiny replied in the same soft tone. That was all she managed before Jerome stomped right up to her, brandishing the letter.

“You fucking bitch, you got me disinherited!”

“Uh…not your best approach, man,” Gabriel said carefully.

“I think you will find,” Trissiny replied calmly, “you got yourself disinherited. The matter is probably explained in some detail in that missive.”

“Because of you!” he snarled, wagging the crumpled letter in her face so rapidly she wouldn’t have had a chance of reading it, even had she been so inclined. “If you hadn’t stuck your fucking nose in—”

“How dare you!” November shot back, matching his tone for ferocity. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?!”

“November, I can handle this,” Trissiny said firmly, stepping to one side to place herself between the two sophomores.

“Oh, yeah, you just love handling things,” Jerome raged. “Are you fucking happy now? Does this make you feel powerful, you fucking cunt?”

Gabriel winced. “Oh, Jerry…no.”

“Your parents were absolutely crushed when I spoke to them,” Trissiny said, holding tightly to her calm. “Devastated to learn you had attempted to force yourself on a female classmate, and humiliated at having to hear about it from me.”

“You—”

“What they were not,” she went on loudly, “was surprised. They have a portrait of you in their formal parlor, Jerome. Hunting trophies displayed with your name on them. I could see touches of you all over the house; it wasn’t the home of heartless people who would cast aside their son at the first report of wrongdoing on his part. This has been building for some time, hasn’t it? I wonder what else you’ve done that has been a disappointment to your House?”

“How dare you—”

“You will note that you are, as of receipt of this letter, disinherited. Not disowned. It seems to me your family is leaving open the door for you to redeem yourself. There is no time like the present to start.”

He gaped at her, fishlike, opening and closing his mouth, before finding words. They came out in a strangled screech. “Do you have any idea who I am?!”

“You’re some guy,” Trissiny said evenly, “without the backing of a powerful House, who is getting aggressive with the Hand of Avei. Tell me, in what scenario does this end well for you?”

Jerome glared at her, quivering with impotent rage. Finally he stuffed the letter into his pocket and spat, “Whore,” before turning to stomp away.

“The boy just doesn’t learn,” Gabriel said wonderingly.

“Gabriel.” She turned to face him, and he actually shied back from her. “I’m sorry.”

Gabe blinked twice, then glance at Shaeine and November, as if for clarification, before returning his attention to Trissiny. “I, uh… You what, now?”

“For my role in our altercation,” she said. “I acted wrongly, and owe you an apology.”

“Oh. That.” He managed a weak grin, waving her off. “Well, I pretty much started the whole stupid thing, so…”

“Yes, you did,” she agreed, nodding, “but I escalated it to violence. That was both foolish and morally wrong. So, I am sorry. Especially for that, and also for being so stubborn. I should have apologized weeks ago.”

“Water under the bridge.” He seemed to have regained some of his equanimity. “I’ll forget about it if you will.”

“I’d like that.” She managed a smile.

“That’s so kind of you,” November whispered in something like awe.

Trissiny was spared having to reply to that by the arrival of Professor Tellwyrn out of thin air with a soft pop.

“Ah, there you are,” she said grimly. “My office, Trissiny.”

“Right,” she said resignedly. “Let me just—”

“I was informing you, not instructing you.” There came a second pop and she vanished, this time taking Trissiny with her.


 

She reappeared in the familiar office, off to one side of the room. Chase and Jerome were already present, the latter looking shocked as well as furious; they had evidently been collected as abruptly as Trissiny. Chase, as usual, seemed delightedly intrigued, as if everything going on had been arranged for his amusement.

Tellwyrn seated herself behind her desk, folded her hands on top of it, and glared at them over her spectacles.

“Well. What a busy weekend we’ve all had.”

“Best kind!” Chase said brightly.

“Shut up. I’ve held off dealing with this to find out what Miss Avelea was up to in Tiraas. Yes, Trissiny, I know where you were, and you’d better believe I could have retrieved you, had I been so inclined. I determined this was not necessary, and indeed things have played out in…a marginally satisfactory fashion. Jerome is already somewhat chastened, in a fashion I find rather satisfying. That was impressively quick research, by the way. How did you manage it in the course of one weekend?”

“The Nemitite clerics in Tiraas seemed quite eager to be of service. It appears there are Imperial records on everything. The bureaucracy is daunting, but professional guidance gets one through it quite quickly.”

“Then I’m sure you discovered that no one cares enough about the doings or fate of Chase Masterson to take an interest in the matter.” Across the room, Chase grinned brightly at them. “I wonder, how did your meeting with the Shaathist monastery in which he was raised go?”

“I didn’t bother,” Trissiny admitted. “Shaathists would be as likely to greet me with arrows as agree to a meeting, and anyway, the Huntsman who filed Chase’s final reports quite specifically indicated their order had no further interest in him.” She glanced coolly over at Chase, earning another grin in reply.

Tellwyrn shook her head. “In one respect, I find I’m rather proud of you. Rather than going for your sword, you found a pretty graceful way to dispense justice.”

“Thank you,” Trissiny said.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Tellwyrn said grimly. “You are still in trouble.”

“I assumed as much.”

“Good, then you’re doing better than these two.” The Professor shifted her stare to the boys. “As I see it, we have two big problems here: First and foremost, you don’t seem to grasp the seriousness of what you’ve done. As a disturbing bonus, you don’t understand the stupidity of it.”

“What we did?!” Jerome burst out. “We were just flirting with the dryad, there’s no need for—”

“I WILL INFORM YOU WHEN YOU MAY SPEAK.”

Tellwyrn’s voice filled the room so thoroughly the framed pictures on the walls rattled. She had to have been using magic. For a moment, she allowed silence to reign, then continued.

“To begin with, you will both research and present to me five-page annotated papers on the known habits of dryads. By the end of this, you will at the very least understand how close you came on Friday night to an exceedingly grisly fate. That leaves the first and greater of my concerns: your disdain for the severity of this offense. Boys… It’s not just Avenists who get excited when you press your attentions on a woman who has indicated she doesn’t want them. That doesn’t go over well anywhere. I want you to consider that there were over a dozen elves in that building, all of whom could hear very well what was happening on the balcony, and every one of them—yours truly included—decided to let you antagonize the dryad and get reduced to a pile of giblets.”

“Giblets?” Chase said in a fascinated tone. “Juniper? You’re joking.”

“I think you’ll find your assigned research very enlightening. Back to the point, I’m in the position of almost regretting the responsibility I have for your welfare. When I find men acting this way at large in the world, I generally just teleport their skeletons three feet to the left and have done with it. Here…it seems I’ll have to find a better way to deal with you. Something…educational.”

She opened a drawer in her desk, reached in and pulled out a handful of glass vials, each stoppered and containing a murky purple liquid. Tellwyrn tossed one of these to Chase; he caught it reflexively.

“What’s all this, then?”

“Impotence.”

Chase jerked his gaze up to hers from his perusal of the tiny vial. “Um. Pardon?”

“You heard me,” Tellwyrn said with a hint of grim amusement. “That is an alchemical treatment which will, for a time, deny you the use of the organ which you’ve been allowing to make some of your decisions recently. It’s my hope that a month or so spent like that will give some of the blood time to redirect itself to your brain. You will report to Professor Rafe every evening immediately following your last class for your treatment until I say otherwise. Both of you.” She tossed another to Jerome, whose face had lapsed into morose sullenness.

For just a moment, Chase stared at her with something very like rage, before marshaling his expression so completely it almost seemed as if it had never been anything but affably unconcerned. “I see. That’s actually kind of clever. And, just hypothetically, if we…decline to drink this vial of voodoo?”

“Then I’ll have to find a less sophisticated way of punishing you,” Tellwyrn said sweetly. “Making use of whatever resources are available. And oh, look! I have a Hand of Avei right here. You can deal with me, boys, or you can deal with her.”

Chase glanced quickly back and forth between them, then actually chuckled. “Well then! I find this a poetic and very appropriate resolution to this little misunderstanding, and look forward to being properly chastened. Bottoms up!” He plucked the cork from the vial and swiftly drank down its contents, then raised his eyes in surprise. “Mm…not bad. Blackberry!”

“It’s flavored?!” Tellwyrn burst out before catching herself, then removing her spectacles to pinch at the bridge of her nose. “…Admestus. All right, you too, Lord Conover.”

Jerome looked for a moment as if he might try an outright rebellion right there in the office, but then his shoulders slumped defeatedly. Without a word, he uncorked and drank his vial.

“And that just leaves you, Avelea. I trust you understand why you are facing disciplinary action?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Trissiny said crisply. “Leaving the vicinity of Last Rock without permission is prohibited. I apologize for disrespecting your rules, Professor. It was a matter of my calling.”

“Well, you’ve got half of it. The other, and perhaps greater issue, is that you usurped my authority. I make the rules on this campus, Trissiny, and I enforce them. I may, as in cases exactly like this one, sometimes ask your assistance in dealing with certain matters, but that is up to my discretion. You do not take it upon yourself to deal out punishments for infractions of my rules at my University.” Her green eyes bored into Trissiny’s, their expression relentless. “I don’t care what is at stake or whose Hand you are. On this campus, I am god.”

A crack of thunder struck so close that the whole room rattled; all three of those standing before the desk jumped violently in startlement, then gaped at the windows behind Tellwyrn, which had the curtains drawn back to show a stunning view of the cloudless blue sky over the Golden Sea.

Professor Tellwyrn’s left eye twitched slightly. She tore off her glasses and tossed them down on the desk so hard they bounced, then stood, turned, opened the window, leaned out so far that her whole upper body was suspended over the drop down the cliff, and roared at the empty sky.

“YOU HEARD ME!”

Thunder rumbled again, much more distantly.

Growling, Tellwyrn ducked back in and slammed the window shut hard enough to rattle the panes. “Nosy bastards. Gods are like police: never at hand when you need one and knee-deep in your business the rest of the time. Anyway, Trissiny, you will report to Stew every night for a week for your disciplinary action. He will direct you to dig a hole deep enough for you to stand in.”

Trissiny frowned. “And then?”

“And then, fill it in.”

“…I don’t understand.”

“I’m not an idiot, Trissiny. The purpose of your dish washing sessions with Mr. Arquin was to force you into his company in the hope that you would find an accommodation. It was a less cordial one than I was going for, but peaceable enough. It was not lost on Mrs. Oak or myself that you enjoyed the work. Hell, being raised as you were, I’m sure you get a lot of satisfaction from contributing to the upkeep of whatever place shelters you. So yes, I’m well aware that giving you the kind of busy work that would infuriate your roommate is the opposite of punishment. Thus, you will wear yourself out performing humiliating, counterproductive and generally useless tasks until I’m satisfied the memory will flash across your mind any time in the future that you feel an urge to stick your nose into my running of this University. Does that explain matters?”

“Perfectly,” Trissiny said rigidly.

“I’m so glad.” Tellwyrn gave them all an unpleasant smile. “Unless there are any questions…? No? Good. That being the case, everyone knows their assignments. Get lost, all of you.”

“Say, Professor,” Chase said with an ingratiating grin, “if it’s not too much trouble, how about sending us out the way we came in? I was right in the middle of—”

“OUT!”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

3 – 5

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

“This is long overdue,” Ruda said firmly. “We owe a debt, and circumstances being as they are, it’s one we may never be able to repay. At the very least, we can offer our respects, and I say there’s no better time. A libation for the dead!” She upended her bottle of ale, pouring a generous slosh onto the floorboards, then lifted it high. “And honor to a memory. TO HORSEBUTT!”

“To Horsebutt!” the rest of the freshman class chorused, raising their glasses. With one exception.

“To Heshenaad,” Gabriel said, wincing.

“Aw, look at the froshes belatedly celebrating their victory,” Chase crooned from around the card table on the other side of the room.

“Everybody’s celebrating,” Hildred said. “Don’t be an ass. You remember the aftermath of our first excursion into the Golden Sea? It’s worth savoring, let them have it.”

“Not as well as I remember the adventure itself!” he proclaimed, grinning. “We had some good times, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” said Natchua. “My favorite part was when you tried to sell me to those witches.”

“Are you still on about that? They weren’t buying, and anyway, it was obviously a ruse on my part.”

“Did they really find the tomb of Heshenaad the Enemy?” Hildred asked, tilting her head to regard the freshman class, who were arranged on a couch and set of loveseats flanking a low table. “Damn, that’s not half bad. Makes Connor’s magic sword seem like chump change.”

“She’s right! We’ve been shown up!” Chase nodded seriously, shuffling the cards. “Looks like we better find ourselves a new round of heroics! Hm, but if it’s extracurricular we’ll have to fund it ourselves. Anybody know what the going rate for a surly drow is on the black market?”

“Boy, do you know how many ways I could hurt you?”

“Promises, promises!”

The music building formed a U-shaped open space on three sides of the main auditorium. Balconies ringed the upper floor, leaving most of the space open for two stories up, with a dangling chandelier of crystal beads occupying the large, formal foyer inside the front doors. There in the front it was all decorative statuary and small potted trees, the chandelier hanging directly from a domed skylight, though the same open chamber became more intimate, furnished with a scattering of chairs and sofas, in the two wings. It was large enough to host a gathering of this size, all one room yet affording a semblance of privacy to those who sought it, and the balconies above made an excellent perch from which one could keep watch on the area.

Professor Tellwyrn idly swirled her glass of punch in one hand, seemingly studying the chandelier with a vague smile, but listening to conversations from throughout the space. She had the central stretch of balcony to herself, for the moment. The acoustics of the building were carefully designed; even someone without the benefit of elven hearing might have been able to keep an ear on the whole place from this perch.

Professors Yornhaldt and Rafe approached, her, the latter swigging a clear liquid from an unmarked glass bottle. Surely not vodka; he knew better.

“Anything of interest?” Alaric asked in the basso rumble that was his version of a whisper.

“Plenty, but nothing I feel the need to intervene in. Two hearts being broken and a couple more due to fall before the night is out. Several ill-conceived pranks being planned, most of which I will allow to unfold, but I am not going to permit the girls of Isaac Gallery to summon an incubus. I know you can hear me, Cailwyn. Tell your roommates to put that book back and drop this foolishness before I have to make them. All and all, lads, it’s a nice little party. Not often we encourage the whole student body to assemble, and it’s always a pleasure when it doesn’t devolve into gladiatorial matches.”

“Or an orgy,” Yornhaldt said, grimacing.

“Oh, come on, that was one time.”

“And there was no end of fuss and complaints from the parents, as I recall.”

“As I recall, there was an end once I taught a couple of them the meaning of Suffering. Anyway, we’re not going to have a repeat of the incident with this group. This, as I say, is a much better party.”

“Bah!” said Rafe, grinning and gesticulating with his bottle. “A party has drinking, dancing and debauchery! This is, at best, a social.”

Tellwyrn glanced at the bottle, noting the way the liquid within flowed slowly, clearly thicker than alcohol. “Admestus, what are you drinking?”

“Corn syrup! We got the most marvelous fresh elven corn from the Sea, and I do hate to waste good reagents.”

Yornhaldt shook his head and sighed.

“What in the world is wrong with you?” Tellwyrn demanded.

“Corn syrup deficiency! Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”

“Right. You do that.” She stepped past him, heading for the stairs. “I’m going to go terrorize people.”


“Mind if I join you?” Hildred asked, strolling up to the freshman alcove.

“Hey, Hil,” said Gabe, waving at her. “Sure, pull up a…” He glanced around at the fully occupied couches. “Um. Lap?”

“Oh ho! Are you volunteering?” she grinned.

“No distractions,” Fross said severely. “You’re helping me draw, remember? I can’t exactly handle a pencil. I mean, I can, but that’s using a modified levitation spell and while I got course credit for designing it there’s a lot of really fine control involved and it tires me out. Also, this is your project too!”

“Easy, Fross, I’m not abandoning you,” Gabe said with a grin, tapping the diagram sketched on a sheaf of parchment on the low table. “These equations are a bit over my head, though. Just tell me what to write down when you figure it out.”

“I’m working on it!”

“What’re you two up to?” Hildred asked with interest, perching on the arm of the loveseat next to Gabe.

“Oh, Fross had an idea after we covered the Circle of Interaction in Yornhaldt’s class. We’re pretty much just goofing around, but as the only two arcane majors here, it seems like nobody else is interested enough to join in.”

“You’re studying the arcane, then?” she asked.

“Enchanting, is the plan. But it’ll be next year before they let me take courses in it. Lots of ground work to cover first, apparently. Fross is doing a more general course of study.”

“I’m a wizard!”

“And a damn good one!” he said, grinning.

“So I’ve gotta ask,” the dwarf said, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning subtly against him. “Did you guys really find the tomb of Horsebutt the Enemy?”

“Rafe thinks it was,” Trissiny replied. She was standing at the other end of the long sofa, next to Toby, who was perched on the end seat. “It could have been, though without any actual writing it’s hard to say for sure.”

“I’m pretty certain,” Teal said from the loveseat opposite Gabe and Hildred. “It was definitely a Stalweiss warlord’s tomb, and come on, how many of those would be out in the Golden Sea? I took a good look at the tomb paintings, and they seemed to depict a lot of the same scenes as we know of from history. Of course, that stretch of history is murky, and when you’ve seen one Stalweiss battle painting, you’ve sort of seen them all.”

“That’s pretty amazing,” Hildred said, squeezing his shoulder. “You’ll have to tell me all about it sometime.”

“Well, history isn’t really my thing,” he said, glancing up at her with a grin. “Teal can tell you a lot more than I can. Or Rafe, and we all know how he loves to hear himself talk.”

“Right. Yeah, maybe I’ll look into that,” she said disinterestedly, turning her gaze to the diagram over which Fross was hovering, chiming quietly to herself. Across the way, Teal exchanged a look with Shaeine, who was sitting beside her, and rolled her eyes, repressing a grin.

“I know going into the Golden Sea looking for specific things is pretty much a waste of time,” Ruda said, “but I’d still like to visit again. It doesn’t feel right, the way we left it. You shouldn’t disturb a warrior’s final rest.”

“You are really fixated on that,” Trissiny noted.

“It’s called respect, blondie. Look into it.”

“If only you showed the same regard for the floors in here,” Hildred said, grinning. “I just about slipped in your patch of rum.”

“That’s ale. Come on, what kind of dwarf are you?”

“The kind who doesn’t drink off the floor, you hooligan,” she replied, matching Ruda’s easy smile. “I feel sorry for Stew, having to clean up after all this.”

“I don’t. He enjoys a challenge, he told me himself. Also, whether he does or not, I don’t much care. The guy made me mulch flower beds.”

“Oh? What’d you do to deserve that?”

“She attacked Trissiny with a sword!” Fross said helpfully. Hildred raised an eyebrow, looking over at the paladin.

“Really? I don’t recall you looking any the worse for wear.”

“Imagine that,” Trissiny said dryly.

Ruda scowled. “All that’s beside the point. I’m a pirate, dammit! If I’m mulching anything that doesn’t involve the body of an enemy, a great travesty has occurred.”

“So!” Hildred turned her attention back to Gabriel, leaning more heavily on him to peer at Fross’s diagram. “What’s all this then? How’s it work?”

“It won’t work.”

In unison, they started and swiveled their head to look at Professor Tellwyrn, who had ambled up and was peering down at the parchment, idly swirling a glass of punch.

“You’re trying to design an amulet to cycle powers around the Circle of Interaction, right? Transmute one into the next around the ring so you can turn an enemy’s spell against him in the form of whatever he’s weakest against?”

“That’s the general idea,” Fross said, sounding a little put out. “Why won’t it work?”

“In the first place, that kind of power transmutation has to be done mentally, not with an artifact or static system. They’ve made amazing strides in enchantment in my lifetime; someday we may well be able to transmute forms of energy with static enchantments, but nobody is anywhere near that point now.”

“Oh,” said the pixie, crestfallen. “Well… We’ve still got the basic equations sketched out, maybe if we formulate it into a ritual circle…”

“In the second place,” Tellwyrn went on lightly, “you’ve misunderstood the method of converting power. You’re not actually changing one kind of energy into another; you’re draining energy out of a spell and using that raw, unformed energy to power one of a different school. They don’t alter around the circle, it’s more that they prey on each other.”

“…oh.”

“And if you somehow got past those two fundamental reasons why this won’t work, there are practical considerations, too. The power loss is fairly significant in most cases, and it grows exponentially if you try to cycle energy between spell networks. If you hypothetically made this work, by the time you got three points around the circle your power would be down to effectively nothing. Plus, there’s still the fact that you’d need to personally be able to use all those schools of magic to do it, and battlemages of any type don’t try that as it precludes carrying magical objects or prepared spells; shifting schools messes those up something awful. That, and re-working a spell takes time. It’s rarely done in combat, and then only if you have a way to keep your enemy from reacting during a long casting.”

“Aw.” Fross drifted slowly down like a falling leaf, coming to rest atop her diagram. Gabe sighed and set the pencil down alongside her.

“Well, that’s that, then. Sorry, Fross. It sounded like a good idea to me.”

“No, no, this is good work,” Tellwyrn said, with an easygoing smile that was so unlike her usual predatory grin it was downright disturbing. “You’re thinking ahead of what you’ve been told, applying things in unconventional ways, doing your own research and working outside of class. This is perfect, kids; this is what makes for good students, not to mention good mages. Just have a sense of proportion, hey? What you were trying to design would have revolutionized the practice of magic. Generally speaking, if you were the kind of savants who could come up with something like that in their first weeks of formal schooling, you’d have seen signs of it before now.”

“Wait a sec,” said Gabriel, frowning up at her. “Hold that thought, I have an important question. Where’d you get fizzy punch?”

Tellwyrn chuckled and flicked a finger in his direction. The red liquid in his glass began to bubble cheerfully.

“Oh.” He blinked down at it. “Uh, thanks.”

“Keep it up, kids,” she said cheerfully, strolling off. “Enjoy the party.”

Hildred and the freshmen watched her go in momentary silence.

“Okay, that was weird,” Ruda said finally. “She was acting like a… Like a person. Think somebody murdered Tellwyrn and is walking around wearing her skin?”

“Um, that’s not as easy to do as it sounds,” Juniper said. “Believe me, we’d notice.”

A second silence descended, everyone turning to look at her.

“What?” she said, then her eyes widened. “Oh! No, I didn’t… I’ve never done that. Good grief, no, what a mess.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Ruda said as some of the tension went out of the group.

“One of my sisters tried it like four times, though. Every time woodcutters came too close to our grove. I mean, get a hint, right? I’m pretty sure she was just being ghoulish by the third time. She can’t have been that dumb.”

“Anyway,” Gabriel said loudly, “Tellwyrn has her good points. Nobody’s all asshole, all the time.”

“She has at least some capacity for kindness,” Trissiny agreed. “More than you might think.”

“Also, she can still hear us,” Toby noted. “Those ears aren’t for decoration.”

“I’m a little surprise to hear that from you, Shiny Boots,” Ruda said, grinning at Trissiny. “Gabe, not so much, especially when he watches her butt all the way out—”

“What?” Gabriel exclaimed, almost choking on the last of his newly fizzy punch. “I wasn’t! I wouldn’t! I don’t… Damn it, I go for curvy girls! Um,” he added weakly, glancing quickly around the group. Ruda’s grin took on fiendish proportions as he tried to extricate himself. “Not that, I mean… You’re all very pretty. All due respect. Um.”

“I don’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved,” Trissiny said, arching an eyebrow.

“I appreciate your respect, Gabriel,” Shaeine said in such a tone of overwrought solemnity that Teal burst out laughing.

“Welp, that’s it for me tonight,” he said resignedly. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’ll just go die in a hole now.”

“Wait, what?” Fross buzzed about in alarm. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just at little?!”

“Hyperbole, Fross. Remember? We talked about this.”

“Oh. Right. Yes.”

“Look on the bright side,” Hildred said cheerfully, “at least November wasn’t in earshot of that one!” Gabriel groaned, covering his face with a hand.

Teal frowned. “Who?”

“She’s in my divinity class,” Trissiny said, then frowned down at empty space next to the table. “An Avenist. Very…devout.”

“That’s one word for it,” Hildred said merrily. “Makes our paladin here look like a tavern wench.”

“I’m not sure I appreciate the comparison.”

“Oh, lighten up for once in your life, it’s a fucking party,” Ruda said. “I haven’t met this November, either. You already got on her bad side, Gabe?”

“I’m not on any of her sides,” he said firmly. “I stay away from her. Gods in kilts, Ruda, I’m not dense enough to mess around with an oversensitive Avenist. I manage to piss Trissiny off just by being in the room.”

“The fact that you think it’s that arbitrary is possibly why it keeps happening,” Trissiny noted.

“Come on, now, it’s a little arbitrary,” said Ruda. “Yeah, Gabe likes to stick his foot in his mouth, but sometimes I think you get even madder at him when he’s trying to be nice.”

“Maybe he should stop trying, then.”

“I believe they’ve forgotten I’m here,” Gabriel said to Hildred. “Think I could sneak away?”

“I’d offer to smuggle you out under my skirt, but I don’t come much higher than your chest standing up.”

“Well, it was worth a thought.”

“Might be worth a second thought, eh?” she said, waggling her eyebrows. “What with you liking curvy girls and all.”

“Yup. It’s official, I am never gonna live that down.”

“Aw, there are worse things,” she replied, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m not holding anything against you. Unless you ask me to, of course.”

“You’re a pal, Hil,” he said, then bent to pick up his empty glass from the table and stood, gently disentangling himself from her. “I’m gonna go grab some more punch. Anybody else want any?” A round of negatives answered this. “Cheers, then,” he said, ambling off.

Hildred stared after him, then turned to the others, wide-eyed. “He…that… I just got turned down, right? The boy can’t possibly be that thick.”

“You underestimate Gabriel,” Trissiny said dryly.

“Oh, he’ll realize what just happened sometime tomorrow,” Toby said, grinning. “Then he’ll come groveling. You can probably get major concessions out of it if you’re still interested.”

Shaeine stood smoothly. “If you will all pardon me, I believe I will return to the tower.”

“Not havin’ fun?” Ruda asked.

“On the contrary, I have enjoyed the conversation,” the drow replied with one of her polite little smiles. “However, I am accustomed to a much more…low-key form of socialization. Entertaining as this event is, it is somewhat emotionally taxing. I mean no offense.”

“None is taken, Shaeine,” Trissiny said with a smile. “We’re always glad to hang out with you, but please don’t feel obligated if you’re tired.”

“Thank you,” Shaeine replied, bowing slightly in her direction.

Teal cleared her throat, getting to her feet. “I’m a little worn out, too. If you’re not, uh, too overtaxed, would you mind some company walking back?”

“Not at all, that would be most agreeable,” the drow said politely. “Secure as the campus reputedly is, I always feel safer in company.”

“Great! After you, then, m’lady.”

“Good evening, all,” Shaeine said to the others, receiving a wave of farewells in reply.

Ruda managed to wait until they were fully out of the building before commenting. “Man, those two need to hurry the hell up. The suspense is drivin’ me nuts.”

“Wait, what?” Trissiny frowned at her.

Ruda gave her an incredulous look, which slowly blossomed into a sly grin. “…nevermind, Trissiny. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”


Having slipped away during the conversation, Juniper loitered on one of the small balconies off the side wing. She had shut the glass door behind her, muting the sounds of the party in progress, and was enjoying the relative quiet. Climbing roses covered the side of the building, where subtle trellises had been laid against the stone to give the support, and the dryad leaned herself against one of these, savoring the smell of the flowers and leaves, the subtle prickle of thorns against her skin, the communion with the earth provided by the plants. They hadn’t a very interesting story to tell; they were young, and domesticated. But all life was beautiful.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her new life at the University, but it didn’t afford her as many opportunities to enjoy the quiet and just…commune.

The balcony door swung open and Chase popped through, grinning. “Hey there! I thought I saw you head out here. Cuddling with the flowers?”

“Hi, Chase,” she said cheerfully, then added to the two boys who followed him onto the balcony. “Hi, guys! You got tired of the noise, too?”

“Eh, noise, crowds, you know, it’s all very oppressive,” said Jerome, a junior, dragging his gaze slowly up and down her and lingering on her chest. Juniper smiled in response, enjoying the attention.

“Evenin’, Juno,” said Tanq, nodding politely and leaning against the door after pulling it shut. She noted that he had loosened the interior curtains first, hiding them from the view of those inside. “This a bad time?”

“Nonsense, there are no bad times!” Chase proclaimed, sidling up to Juniper and wrapping his arms around her, nuzzling at her hair. “It’s just not our kind of party, is all. You know me, I prefer to be knee-deep in trouble.”

“I know you,” she said dryly, snaking an arm around to pat him on the back, “and you’re more interested in being penis-deep in me.”

“Alas, my clever ruse is uncovered!” he said, pecking her lightly on the lips. “Well, it was a thin one, anyway. At least now we can get down to the fun part.”

“You know how we treasure every moment of your company,” Jerome added smoothly, easing up to her other side while Tanq approached from the front. “It’s not just that so few women anywhere have a shred of your beauty.”

“Aw, thanks!”

“It’s also that even fewer women enjoy a good three-on-one like you,” Chase murmured, ducking his head to lick the side of her neck.

“You guys are really sweet,” she said, gently pushing him away. “I had a lot of fun the last time. I’m just not in the mood right now, sorry. Another time?”

“Aw,” Tanq made a try of pouting at her, his grin spoiling it. “Well, no worries, June. You enjoy the flowers.” He stepped back, reaching for the door handle.

“Now, don’t be silly, my little blossom,” Chase said reprovingly, pulling her close again while Jerome wrapped arms around her from the other side. “Mood is a fickle thing, no? I bet we can improve yours pretty quickly.”

Both boys bent their heads to nuzzle at her neck from both sides, hands stroking her waist, but she frowned. “Um…no thanks, I’m pretty much in charge of my own moods.”

“Be fair,” Jerome wheedled, nipping at her ear. “Give us a bit to work.”

“Um, could you not?” she said, beginning to be annoyed. “Personal space, please.”

“Guys.” Tanq was frowning heavily now, his expression as much disbelieving as disapproving. “She doesn’t want to. That’s it, end of. It’s not a discussion.”

“Oh, she doesn’t know what she wants,” Chase said dismissively, slipping a hand between Juniper’s legs and trying to tug her thighs apart. “She’ll change her tune soon enough.”

“Excuse me?” she said incredulously. “That’s enough. Please let go of me.”

“She’s a dryad,” Jerome said, grinning over his shoulder at Tanq. “They don’t get to say no.”

“Something tells me that’s the least of the things you don’t know about dryads,” Juniper said.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Tanq stepped forward, glaring. “You two need to start thinking with your heads. She asked you to leave her alone.”

“It’s true, I read it in a book once,” said Chase, sliding around Juniper and trying to lift her up off the bannister. He might as well have tried to uproot a tree with his bare hands. “They’re always willing, it’s in their blood. She just needs a little reminder, don’t you, baby?” He squeezed her breast, none too gently. Jerome began tugging down her sundress in the back.

Juniper looked at one of them, then the other. Her previously cheerful expression had fully vanished.

“Juno,” Tanq said frantically, “easy. Jerome’s a noble, there’ll be hell to pay if he turns up dead. Goddammit, you two, get off her! You have no idea what you’re screwing around with!”

“Tanq, what are you going on about?” Jerome said irritably, glancing up at him. “If you’re not gonna join in, go away.”

Juniper took in a deep breath, raised her head and shouted at the top of her lungs.

“TRISSINY!”

“Oh, shit,” Chase hissed, instantly letting go of her and tossing himself backward off the balcony. It was only a very short drop into the bushes; Jerome landed right beside him and they made a terrific crashing and crunching as they struggled loose, then bolted off around the side of the building.

“Gods, Juno, are you okay?” Tanq asked, looking rattled. “I’m sorry, I should’ve just punched the morons instead of talking at them… You all right? I didn’t seriously think they’d… I’m so sorry.”

“Tanq, I’m fine,” she said, tilting her head in puzzlement. “What are you sorry about? You were perfectly nice.”

“I’m just… Those two assholes, I’m gonna bend them in half.”

The balcony door burst open and Trissiny stepped through, peering about with her hand on her sword. “What is it? Juniper, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” the dryad said cheerily. “I’m sorry to take you away from the party! It was a false alarm, I guess.”

“Are you sure?” Trissiny squinted suspiciously at Tanq.

“No,” he said grimly. “There was a problem. It’s gone now. Thanks for coming, Triss.”

“Of course,” she said slowly. “Does anyone feel like telling me exactly what the issue was?”

“I hate to cause any more trouble,” Juniper said earnestly. “I’m already interrupting your evening. Really, I just wanted to enjoy the flowers for a bit, but it seems like something’s always happening around here, doesn’t it? Anyhow, thanks again for being so quick, Triss. I don’t care what anybody says, you’re a good friend.”

“Well…thank you,” Trissiny said, slowly easing up out of a ready stance and taking her hand away from her sword. “And you’re welcome. And… Wait, what?”


“Well, that was a wash,” Jerome said irritably, coming to a stop and brushing leaves off his suit. “Ugh, look at my jacket. This is the last time I follow you on one of your escapades.”

“Oh, you say that every time,” Chase said dismissively, flopping down on one of the benches. They had come to a stop in the little cul-de-sac outside Ronald Hall. It was well lit by the floating fairy lamps, but quiet and deserted at this hour. “And you’re being melodramatic every time. You know we end up having a blast more often than not.”

“Or getting blasted!”

“Don’t disallow for the possibility of some overlap there!”

“You’re such an idiot,” Jerome said, but couldn’t repress a grin. “Damn it, now I’m horny, too.”

“Why, Jerry!” Chase widened his eyes, affecting a shocked expression. “I had no idea! Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

“Shut the fuck up, you asshole.” Jerome aimed a halfhearted, easily-dodged punch at him. “And this little fleabait town doesn’t even have whores. Three years I’ve been here and I still can’t believe that. Feh, after getting an armful of dryad there’s no way I’m ending this night without getting laid. Think I’ll go try my luck with Amelie.”

“Ooh, now there’s an idea! Maybe we can talk her into a little menage!”

“First of all,” Jerome said severely, “Amelie is a nice girl who is not into any kind of outlandish modern kinkiness. More’s the pity. Second, I thought we agreed that dryads are a special case. Under any normal conditions, I don’t want to be in proximity to your naked junk. Or any man’s.”

“Spoilsport,” Chase pouted, slumping down on the bench and pouting. “What am I supposed to do, then? There’s a sad shortage of amenable womanflesh on this campus since last year’s seniors graduated. Bunch of terrible prudes, our generation.”

“Why don’t you go try your luck with Natchua?” Jerome replied, grinning.

“Hey, don’t joke, I’m working on that. It’s a process. It’ll take time. Ideally, I’ll be in and out of her bed without incurring some kind of vendetta, but if she’s still being obstreperous by the time we’re set to graduate, I’ll take my chances. When else am I going to have a chance to bed a drow?”

“Don’t make me laugh, you’d never wrestle her into submission. That girl can kick your ass without trying.”

“What the hell are you babbling about? I don’t wrestle women into submission, you brute. Honestly, the way you combine poetry with barbarism boggles the mind.”

“Then just what were we doing back there?”

“It’s like you said, dryads are a special case. Look, don’t worry about Juniper, she’ll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow. She’s not that bright. Come on, when has she ever said ‘no’ before?”

“You fucking idiots!” Tanq thundered, stomping up to them.

“Oh, look who decided to rejoin the party,” Chase said airily. “Tanq, my man, please tell me your chivalrous knight routine worked. If none of us managed to nail that dryad I’ll have to write this night off as a loss, and I’m just not ready to do that.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Tanq exclaimed, glaring. “What the hell is wrong with you two?! She told us no. That should have been the end of it. You do not push yourself on a woman who doesn’t want you!”

“That wasn’t a woman, you twit,” Jerome said, scowling right back at him. “She’s some kind of fairy plant spirit. Have you ever cracked a book in your life? Dryads are always either screwing people or killing them. And Juniper’s pretty obviously housebroken; Tellwyrn won’t have her killing people here. So what does that leave?”

“You can’t possibly be this stupid,” Tanq said incredulously. “This is a university. You got in. How are you hearing yourself say these things and not dying from embarrassment?”

“Now, let’s be honest with ourselves,” said Chase, grinning nastily. “Are you upset because we’re stupid, or upset because hanging out with us reflects on you morally? Come on, Tanq, unbend a little. We weren’t hurting anybody; it was a bit of harmless fun. She would have had fun too if she’d let us; she always does.”

“I see.”

Chase and Jerome bolted upright off the bench at the new voice, took one look at Trissiny, who had arrived just behind Tanq, then turned and fled in panic for the second time that night.

She turned her gaze on Tanq, who met it warily. “And you were going to what? Reason with them?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “I was going to just hit them, but when I got here… Damn it.” He looked away, folding his arms across his chest. “They’re my friends, have been even since I started at this school. We have fun, but we’ve never hurt anybody. But they were actually going to… I don’t want to believe it.”

“You’re a good man, Tanq,” she said quietly. “I think you should reconsider whether you want to associate with people who’ll try to make you forget that.”

He heaved a deep sigh. “Maybe. Yeah, probably. No, not probably, I know you’re right. Just having trouble with… Well, none of this is about me, anyhow. Is Juniper okay?”

“She says you asked her that several times,” Trissiny said, quirking an eyebrow. “It confused her. Yes, she appears to be fine. While I’m not about to justify anything those two were doing, they weren’t completely wrong about dryads. Juniper just doesn’t react to these things the way a human woman would.”

“She’s still a person,” he said, shaking his head. “It still matters what she thinks, especially about what’s being done to her. How can they look at her and not see a person?”

Now it was Trissiny’s turn to sigh. “The truth is, Tanq, there are some men who won’t be convinced that any woman is truly a person. Otherwise, there would be little need for people like me.” She turned to stare down the darkened path in the direction the two boys had fled, her expression cold. “I wonder if you’d do me a favor?”

“Probably,” he said warily. “What do you need?”

“Please give my apologies to Professor Tellwyrn, and tell her I’m leaving campus. I’ll try to be back before classes Monday morning, but we’ll have to see how things work out.”

“All right,” he said slowly. “I can do that. I…assume you’ll want me to wait till you’re well and truly away before carrying the message? Being that leaving the town is very much not allowed and all.”

“Exactly.” She turned her head; following her gaze, he jumped back and muffled a curse. An absolutely enormous white horse decked with silver armor was standing there. How the hell could anything that huge have arrived so silently? Where had it come from?

Trissiny vanished around the side of the giant animal, then reappeared atop it, springing lightly into the saddle. How she moved so nimbly wearing armor, even light armor, was uncanny.

“Are you going to kill those two?” Tanq asked warily.

“No.” Trissiny shook her head. “That might have been my first response, but…no. That would not be justice. Thanks for your help, Tanq. And for supporting Juniper.”

“I didn’t do much,” he protested.

“You didn’t need to. If she had been an ordinary woman, what would you have done?”

“Thrown the fuckers off the balcony myself,” he answered immediately.

Trissiny grinned down at him. “Good. I’ll see you in a few days.” She clicked her tongue and the horse took off, trotting toward the University’s gates. Tanq stood alone in the night, watching her go.

It was funny… More than a few people had complained in his hearing about Trissiny being judgmental. From what he’d seen, she mostly appeared awkward and uncomfortable, though his perceptions might have been colored by his first sight of her arriving at the campus, as lost and alone as they all were on their first day. But as he watched her slim form atop the massive draft horse vanishing into the night, he had the sudden thought that there went a woman he could have followed into Hell itself.

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

3 – 3

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

Professor Yornhaldt was usually precisely punctual, but on Monday the students arrived in his classroom to find him already present, carefully drawing a diagram on the blackboard. He greeted them distractedly, not looking up from his task, and they let him be.

The eight freshmen were an undersized class for the lecture halls they occupied, and had tended to spread out to fill the space, but since their excursion into the Golden Sea, by unspoken consensus they had begun sitting together in a tighter group. Everyone had shared trauma; several had had cause to worry that they’d not see some of the others again. There had been no awkward or intimate conversations, at least not that Trissiny had been party to, but they were more comfortable together.

Which was nice, except that everyone was being awfully solicitous toward her since the incident on Saturday morning. It was starting to grate on her nerves.

Yornhaldt’s punctuality remained downright uncanny. At precisely the class’s starting time, he finished his drawing, stepped back from the board, and tapped it once with a thick forefinger. The chalk lines began to glow gently, standing out against the dark background, and he turned with a smile.

“Good morning, class,” he repeated with more enthusiasm. “Today’s lesson marks a new phase in our exploration of the subject of magic. Thus far, we have dealt with the broadest generalities, the universal facts common to magic itself, and thus all branches thereof. Now, we shall begin to narrow our focus into an exploration of the individual forms magic can take. Who among you recognizes this diagram?”

Circle of Interaction

“Ooh!” Fross shot straight upward in eagerness. “That’s the Circle of Interaction!”

“Just so!” Yornhaldt said, beaming. “As I expected from our resident arcane arts major.”

“I thought it was called the Circles of Interaction,” Gabriel said.

“The terms are interchangeable,” replied the Professor. “In practical terms, it makes little difference, though among theorists there is some quibbling over whether the interactions of the four branches of magic form one circle or multiple intersecting ones. In the end, there is nothing to it but semantics. For our purposes, you may call it what you will.”

He stepped to one side to give them a clear view of the diagram and held out one hand; a long, slim stick of polished wood appeared silently in his grip. With this, he began tapping parts of the image in turn as he explained them. “You will note, first of all, the four small circles at the upper, lower, left and right positions on the perimeter. Each of these represents one of the four classifications of magical energy. Clockwise from the top: the divine, the fae, the infernal and the arcane. I apologize for my artistic skills; the illustrations are really the least important part of the diagram. What matters is their position.”

Each of the four small circles had an image drawn within. The ankh symbol of the Universal Church occupied the uppermost position, signifying divine energy.

“Is that a tree or a leaf on the fae one?” asked Gabriel.

“It works either way,” Teal said, grinning. “What I want to know is why arcane magic is symbolized by an eye?”

“An old tradition,” Yornhaldt rumbled. “And, as I say, not really the point…”

“What’s that thing on the bottom?” Gabriel asked. “The twisty, spiky circle deal?”

“A wreath,” Trissiny said quietly, and a momentary hush fell.

Professor Yornhaldt quickly took advantage of it to bring the discussion back on track. “Again, what is important is the position of each of these with relationship to one another. The Circle of Interaction is just that: it describes the way magical powers interact when exposed to each other. This diagram connects each to each of the others by one line, and it is the position of those lines which delineate the nature of their interactions. There are three kinds: first, the opposite actions.”

He traced the horizontal and vertical lines quadrisecting the circle with his pointer. “It is widely known that the divine and the infernal are in direct opposition. Less commonly understood in the modern age is that a similar relationship exists between arcane and fae energies; this is why, in our new era of increasingly widespread enchantment, fairies of all kinds are becoming a rarer sight within Imperial territory. The more arcane magic becomes commonplace in our society, the more hazards abound for them.”

Yornhaldt turned from the diagram to face them directly, idly tapping his pointer against his broad palm. “Opposing magical interactions tend to be…violent. These are two sets of forces which attempt, by their very nature, to snuff each other out in the most brutal fashion possible. The visible effects are often flashy, and potentially dangerous in some cases. It is also important to note that the contest—and make no mistake, it is very much a contest—always comes down to a quantity of raw energy. In most cases, the skill and intelligence with which you wield magic counts for far more than your mana pool, but when you are flinging spells of a certain kind against spells of the opposite kind, the spell with more oomph behind it will triumph. If it is a close difference, it may be an empty sort of triumph, leaving the ‘victorious’ spell ragged, unstable and useless. It is for this reason that the clashes between diabolists and clerics have always tended to be particularly brutal. Victory in that kind of contest means bludgeoning your opponent down with as much overkill as you can muster.”

He lifted his eyebrows, pausing for a moment to glance across their group as if waiting for questions or comments. When none were forthcoming, he turned again to the diagram and traced his pointer around it.

“As you can see on the exterior of the main circle, there are arrowed lines indicating movement in a clockwise direction. This is the Circle of Interference… Which is sometimes known as the Circle of Annihilation, but as that term is both needlessly melodramatic and less than accurate, we won’t be using it in this class. I mention it only so you will know what is being referenced if you encounter the term in your reading. Ahem… The directional markings indicate which power interferes with which. For example, the divine is disruptive to the fae; fae magic disrupts infernal, and so on and so forth, around the circle. These interactions are much gentler in nature. Rather than being an outright contest of power, the interfering form of energy simply causes the interfered to fizzle, to sputter out into nothingness. Quantities of energy are a factor, but a much less significant one. Very minor diabolic spells, for instance, can still disrupt arcane magic of significant strength, which is a major reason—aside from the obvious, that is—why diabolism is in disfavor in the modern world. Warlocks can do incalculable damage to a modern enchantment production line simply by being there. Spells of roughly equal strength cast into opposition will usually cause the complete negation of the spell from the school of magic positioned clockwise on the circle.”

“What about when the interfering form of magic is much stronger than the interfered?”

“Then, Ms. Avelea, a great deal of energy is wasted. There is no reason to dump a bathtub full of water on a campfire when a bucket will suffice.”

“And that’s why Juniper is impervious to warlock spells!” Fross said brightly.

“Indeed,” Yornhaldt said, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “I’ve heard some details of your adventure in the Golden Sea. Yes, despite her lack of offensive spells, our Ms. Juniper is a magical powerhouse, as it were. There are few fairies more well-stocked with energy than dryads. Casting infernal magic at a dryad is very much like pelting the ocean with fireballs.”

He traced the pointer around the inner edge of the circle in the opposite direction. “Moving counter-clockwise, we have the Circle of Augmentation. Whereas the previous two forms of magical interaction are naturally occurring—if you bring such and such powers into contact, what follows will be a simple matter of natural law—this describes a type of interaction which requires a certain amount of expertise to put into effect. It has, in fact, been a point of debate among the wizarding community for many a year whether it even deserved to be recognized in the Circle, but the form of this diagram as you see it now has been in use for more than two centuries. The expertise needed to use the Circle of Augmentation is really quite minimal in all cases, but its forms are different, depending on which school of magic one is using.

“What this means is that, if one knows how, one can absorb magic of a given school, redirecting it and using it to power spells of the school counter-clockwise on the Circle.”

Again, he gave them a moment to consider. This time there were frowns and murmurs as the class digested the implications of this.

“Wait,” Gabriel said. “That means… Hell, every school of magic is a complete trump card to the one before. Is that right? It seems…weird. Like, there should be more, I dunno, balance.” He shifted in his seat. “And yes, we can now have the obligatory comments about how an eighteen-year-old ignoramus doesn’t need to be criticizing the laws of magic.”

“Well, Mr. Arquin,” Yornhaldt said with a smile, “for a teenage ignoramus, you strike very close to the heart of the greatest debate in magical theory. The fact is, we don’t know why the interactions are what they are, and it puzzles and infuriates many of the wizards who study magic. Very many, including those who have made the study of magic their life’s work, keep coming back to the same point you articulated: it seems wrong. In nearly all other aspects, nature appears to seek a balance between opposing forces. When it comes to magical forces, however, there is an overall balance of a sort, but it is that of dogs chasing each others’ tails. Whatever the reason, you are quite correct: if you are any kind of spellcaster, you absolutely do not want to be in an altercation with anything that stands counter-clockwise from you on the Circle of Interaction.”

He half-turned so he was staring at the glowing chalk diagram. “This fact has done much to form the nature of magical society as it stands today. Fairykind have always avoided temples and other holy places. Many a powerful wizard has been brought low by a fairly inexperienced warlock. The very same Black Wreath cultists who aggressively seek out and attack clerics will flee in a panic from a village witch or wandering satyr. The long-standing cultural tension between the Church and the wizarding community has little to do with any hostility on the part of wizards, but rather with the vulnerability of the Church’s agents. No one who considers themselves a representative of the gods’ will enjoys being at a painful disadvantage.”

Yornhaldt shook his head as if to clear it, then traced his pointer across the diagonal lines intersecting the Circle. “There is a final point of these interactions which we must cover, and that is the imbalance in the Circles of Augmentation and Interference. You will note these straight lines, moving from the upper right to the opposite side. These indicate the fairly balanced nature of these interactions. However, see how the lines crossing in the other direction are considerably wider at one point and narrower at the other? That is because this,” he tapped the arc between fae and infernal magic with the pointer, and then the one opposite, between the arcane and divine, “is considerably stronger than this. Fairy magic is an absolute menace to diabolic magic of any kind, to an extent which goes well beyond any other interaction on this circle. Very few fae have anything to fear from the infernal; in fact, some species of fairies which are not noted otherwise to be predatory make a habit of hunting demons and draining them of energy. Conversely, the interfering effect of the arcane against the divine is substantially muted, compared to the other interactions between magics. Wizard spells do disrupt deific workings…somewhat. They are not nearly so effective at it as any other school is at disrupting its clockwise counterpart.”

“Why?” asked Toby.

The Professor shrugged exaggeratedly. “That, Mr. Caine, is something a great many people would give a great deal to know. It is what it is. The Circle simply is not fair; it is not necessarily reasonable. It was just not designed to be.”

“Who says it has to be designed at all?” Ruda asked. “Sometimes, things are just what they are.”

“The gods had their say in every aspect of the world’s creation,” Trissiny said.

“Oh, will you stow that already,” Ruda groaned, rolling her eyes. “The modern gods are like eight thousand years old; they didn’t make the world.”

“If I were a god, though,” Teal said, “I’d definitely set things up so my followers’ natural enemies were at an unfair disadvantage. Which seems to be pretty much what happened.”

“I fear I must step on Professor Tellwyrn’s toes somewhat,” Yornhaldt rumbled, “as it is simply not possible to cover the origins of magic without delving into history. You are correct; the gods have had their say. Magic, as we have discussed previously, is simply a means of classifying certain kinds of interactions of matter and energy. It has assuredly always existed, in some form or another, because it is a fundamental part of existence. The schools of magic as we know them, however, are the direct work of gods. They stem, specifically, from the events of the Elder War in which the modern Pantheon arose.” Again, he tapped relevant points on the Circle of Interaction as he spoke. “The divine as we know it was the gift of the new gods to the people of the world; using the energies of the slain Elder Gods, they created a field of energy by which they were bound to the world and the mortal races, which we mortals can access and use with their blessing. The fae and infernal schools, however, each owe their existence to one of the only two surviving Elder Gods, the two who remained neutral in the war and thus did not fall afoul of the rising Pantheon. Fairy magic is, of course, the gift of Naiya. The infernal was the…ahem, gift…of Scyllith, the original goddess of evil and queen of demons.”

“Wait, what?” Gabriel straightened up, frowning. “I thought Elilial was the queen of demons.”

“She certainly is now,” Yornhaldt said, nodding. “But before the Elder War, Elilial was an ally of the gods who would go on to form the Pantheon. Her betrayal came after the war’s resolution, at which point she was cast into Hell by her former compatriots. There, she overthrew Scyllith, whom she expelled to the lowest points of the Underworld. Today, Elilial rules Hell and Scyllith rules the majority of the drow, save those nearest the surface who follow Themynra.”

“Huh,” Gabriel mused, frowning into the distance.

“All of which, I fear, is getting us somewhat off track. Elder Gods are…a thing unto themselves. Pound for pound, they are substantially more powerful than the younger generation of deities, but they are more diffuse, more rooted in the nature of the world and less able to act independently. Thus, these two dispersed their own natures across creation, giving us these forms of magic.”

“What of the arcane?” Shaeine asked. “I am not aware of any deity having had a hand in its creation.”

Again, Yornhaldt spread his hands. “That, Ms. Awarrion, is another mystery. Given the provenance of the other schools of magic, it does certainly seem that the arcane ought to have been created by some deity or other. But of this, we know nothing. No god has claimed credit; none seem interested in discussing the matter, though that may or may not be significant as gods do not tend to dwell on any subject not of immediate interest to their designs.”

He sighed heavily. “And with that, we must depart the realm of pure theory and come to more…practical matters.”

“Ooh, I love practical matters,” Ruda said, grinning. “This is where we learn how to kick different kinds of magical ass, right?”

“As a rule,” Professor Yornhaldt said, looking almost pained, “I don’t encourage my pupils to think in combative terms. It distracts from the academic nature of these pursuits and, sometimes, tends to exacerbate preexisting tendencies which… Well, your class is relatively close-knit, so perhaps that will not be such an issue as in other years. Suffice it to say, while we are discussing unfortunately…visceral…aspects of magical interactions, keep in mind that I am not suggesting you go out and do something.”

“Psst.” Ruda leaned over to nudge Trissiny with an elbow. “That means no stabbing anybody.”

She gave the pirate a sidelong look. “No promises.”

Ruda barked a laugh; Yornhaldt cleared his throat loudly.

“To proceed,” he said firmly, “we will now discuss the use of multiple forms of magic by individuals, with a specific eye toward taking advantage of magical interactions, and compensating for the weaknesses imposed by them.”

“Can you do that?” Gabriel asked, perking up. “Use more than one kind, I mean?”

“Uh, hello?” said Fross. “Fairy arcanist here. It’s a thing.”

“It is, indeed, a thing,” Yornhaldt said with a smile, “but your question is valid. The answer is…it depends. There are some paths of magical practice which preclude…multitasking, so to speak. Some followers of certain gods become so saturated with holy energies that they cannot sustain any other form of magic. Some demonologists become so hopelessly corrupted with infernal magic that they cannot use other forms, but rather aggressively hunt arcane power sources to feed their addiction. Certain kinds of fairies cannot use other forms of magic—”

“Can dryads?” Gabriel asked.

“Nope!” Juniper said brightly.

“…and, though it is by far more rare, there are wizards who become so immersed in the arcane that they are unable to make use of other schools. For the most part, however, and for most people, magic is a thing they do, or that they have, not a thing that they are. There is nothing stopping the majority of practitioners from branching out… Except the almost comically mundane barrier of time.”

“Time?” Toby frowned.

“There are only so many hours in a day,” Yornhaldt explained, grinning, “and so many days in a lifetime. Mastery of a school of magic is like any other craft: it demands a great investment of time and effort. Most multi-practitioners are specialized in a certain school of magic, with enough of a minor focus in a second one to offset their liabilities. Some do attempt to study three or even four schools, but there are inherent barriers that have little to do with the magic itself. Working magic is tiring, stressful; working multiple kinds imposes different kinds of stress, and combining too many leads to simple exhaustion. Also, everyone has to learn from someone—this is not the sort of thing you can pick up from a book—and few teachers are interested in spending their own valuable time and effort on a distracted pupil with scattered focus. Then, too, every hour spent studying an extra form of magic is one not spent studying a different one, and those hours add up quickly when they prevent one from delving deeply into the essence of a given school.”

Again, he raised his pointer to indicate the diagram. “The majority of secondary specializations fall into two categories: A practitioner will either study and pick up a few spells in the school against which their primary magic is strongest—that clockwise on the Circle from them—or, less commonly, they will learn some of the opposite school. There are usually cultural reasons why the second option is not done, though it does come with the significant benefit of having spells which are strong against the school which is strongest against their primary school. By the way, the cyclical nature of this discussion makes for tangled syntax,” he added ruefully. “Please don’t hesitate to stop and ask for clarification if I trip you up.”

Nobody took him up on it, but Shaeine did speak. “And, it seems, the benefit of the first and most common option is to have access to spells which diametrically oppose those which are most dangerous to the practitioner.”

“Precisely,” Yornhaldt said, nodding approvingly. “With the additional benefit that if a practitioner chooses this arrangement, he or she has access to a form of power which can be used to feed his or her primary spell arsenal. This arrangement, class, is downright commonplace. Many clerics know a little witchcraft; many witches practice a little diabolism, and it is unfortunately common for warlocks to know some arcane magic. The exception, again, falls at the point where the Circle of Interaction is weakest.” He tapped the upper left quadrant with his pointer. “It is considerably less common for wizards to know or use divine magic.”

“Is that an…inherent problem?” Toby asked. “Or more cultural?”

“To the extent that the culture is inherent to the magic, both. It is not uncommon for dwarves to be born with the ability to channel divine magic directly, without forming a pact with a deity, but this appears to be a peculiarity of my race. For most, the divine is accessible only by making a commitment to a god or goddess. Who, in turn, tend not to encourage their followers to practice the form of magic which is most disruptive to their workings.”

“What about picking up spells in the type of magic against which you’re weakest?” Trissiny asked.

“That,” said Yornhaldt, “is very occasionally done…but not easily. Using those spells can be highly disruptive to any workings one has in one’s primary focus. Possibly to one’s very self, depending on the circumstances. For example, Ms. Avelea, you could safely study and use some basic arcane enchantment, but you would need to be careful, or you’d run the risk of eroding the divine blessings on your weapons.”

He paused to grimace faintly. “Since we have broached the subject of combative interactions, it is worth noting that one of the major contributors to the Tiraan Empire’s military success is its practice of asymmetrical warfare. All units of the Imperial Army have attached casters—of all four varieties. In addition, the Empire fields squads made entirely of spellcasters, again, with a balance of the four schools represented. Thus, no matter what magical threat they come up against, they have on hand the means to counter it most effectively, and they are well-trained in identifying the nature of a foe and bringing up the relevant spellcaster without needing to stop and strategize.”

Professor Yornhaldt paused, staring abstractly into the distance. Oddly, he seemed to be wrestling with reluctance to continue, to judge by his expression. The students exchanged a round of uncertain glances.

“There is, of course, another means of wielding the power of multiple magics,” he said finally. When he returned his gaze to the class, it was serious, even grim. “How much have you heard about elven headhunters?”

For a moment, they were silent, several frowning at him.

“Headhunters are…um.” Gabriel’s tone was scornful, but he caught himself mid-sentence, apparently reconsidering whether the Professor would raise an obviously specious topic. “I thought they were a myth.”

“They’re real,” Trissiny said quietly, and grimly. “Rare, but real.”

“They are, officially, considered a nonexistent legend,” Professor Yornhaldt said. “This, class, is politics and nothing more. The nature of headhunters is such that they are an unmatched threat; when one trespasses into Imperial territory, it is dealt with swiftly and decisively by the Empire…to the extent that this is possible. Bringing down a headhunter usually results in a loss of personnel, but the Empire’s priority is always to keep the matter quiet. If it became known what they are, and that one is on the loose… ‘Panic’ would hardly begin to describe it.”

“Well, that’s bullshit,” Gabriel said, looking angry. “Where do they get off hiding the truth from the public?”

“That, Mr. Arquin, is one of the most common uses of governmental power anywhere. Allowing panic to spread is a quick way to make a disastrous situation even worse. It would be one thing if informing the public would help alleviate the problem, as with most natural disasters. However, mobilizing against a headhunter is simply not an option. Conventional troops are useless against them; the public would be little but a parade of victims. Worse, the specific nature of the creatures is such that large groups of people attempting to flee them tend to invite them to attack.”

“Wow,” said Fross. “Are they really that dangerous? And, y’know, mean?”

“I assure you, they are.”

“Okay… Second question.” She bobbed in the air. “What’s a headhunter?”

Professor Yornhaldt sighed heavily, clutching his pointer with both hands so hard it seemed about to break and staring at the ground. Finally, he looked up at them. “Once again, I must trespass on Professor Tellwyrn’s territory. The story of headhunters is the story of the orcs of Athan’Khar and their demise, the story of the Enchanter Wars. Not only is it outside the realm of this class, but Professor Tellwyrn was actually present and heavily involved with those events; it would be presumptuous in the extreme for me to try to relate them when they are due to be covered in her class. However, there are a few basics that you must understand to know how these things came to be.

“The term ‘headhunter’ actually refers to the archetypal orcish warrior, as they existed before the Enchanter Wars about one hundred years ago. The war was named after the weapons used to ignite it. The original mass-produced energy weapons, class, were not wands and staves, nor even their larger cousins in magical artillery. They were considerably…grander…in scope. What, exactly, they were and how they worked is no longer known, and you may be grateful for that. For purposes of this discussion, you need only know that the Tiraan Empire created and stockpiled certain armaments which were intended to shock all enemies into subjugation through pure fear, weapons whose destructive power was truly unthinkable. And, for political reasons I won’t go into, they were all deployed simultaneously against the orcs of Athan’Khar.”

He stared silently at the ground for a moment before continuing. “That is why there are no orcs on this continent, why Athan’Khar is uninhabitable to this day, why the Tiraan Empire is declared permanently anathema to the orcish people and why every surviving tribe throughout the world exists in a state of declared war against Tiraas, until the Empire is destroyed or the last drop of orcish blood has fallen. What was done to that land obliterated every sentient being in it, including the very god they worshiped. It twisted and distorted the land itself until it was more magically unstable than the Golden Sea or the Deep Wild, turned every surviving thing there, animal and plant alike, into a warped abomination. The very insects and flowers in Athan’Khar are venomous, viciously aggressive and capable of casting offensive magic. Time itself is disrupted in the region, rippling like an unmade bed, with its most damaged point being the Well of Entropy, a place where one year passes inside for every minute in the outside world. It is the most haunted place in existence; so badly was reality itself broken that every soul that died, mortal, fey and even demonic, was denied any normal afterlife, condemned to prowl the land. That is what the first energy weapons wrought. That is what broke the Tiraan Empire.”

There was dead silence in the classroom. They all stared at him, none willing to speak.

“Athan’Khar,” Yornhaldt continued finally, “is a place of pure horror, now, a place where reality is unrecognizably twisted, where the dead hunger for revenge and every living thing seeks only to spread destruction. Any humans who trespass there are immediately destroyed, for those spirits know very well what race brought that down upon them. Some adventurers go there from the dwarven and gnomish peoples, even a few lizardfolk, as some of the weapons that destroyed the land and people did so without destroying all their wealth. But what we are concerned with are the Eldei Alai’shi. The elves who journey to Athan’Khar. Those who become headhunters.”

He sighed heavily. “It is not a thing done lightly. It results in immediate expulsion from one’s tribe; to make the journey to the dark land is to become a thing too dangerous to associate with. But when an elf has a need to become a living weapon, a foe who cannot be defeated through any ordinary means… Some make the journey. Most of those who try are simply destroyed by the insane inhabitants of Athan’Khar. But some few do manage to take those spirits into themselves and emerge as headhunters.

“They have no conscious control of the magic; all of that belongs to the spirits within them. Those spirits are of everything that died in that land, twisted and mixed together, and between them they command magics of every possible kind. To face a headhunter is to face a thing which may spin out spells of any sort, automatically in response to the needs of the moment. In terms of raw firepower, they are not usually a match for a well-trained wizard or cleric, but this is a case in which raw firepower is meaningless. No matter what you throw at a headhunter, they have the perfect counter for it. And that counter is cast by the spirits within, not by the headhunter himself. Be assured that those spirits think and react much faster than anyone mortal can.” He stared hard at them, as if trying to pound the importance of his words into their minds through the sheer weight of his gaze. “And those spirits are completely insane, consumed by thoughtless rage, and have all the instincts of predators.”

“Can… Can’t the Empire fight them?” Teal asked somewhat hoarsely. “I mean, you were talking about asymmetrical warfare. It sounds like the same thing.”

“Indeed it is, Miss Falconer, and it usually comes down to that. Not only because the Empire is the only organization with the capability, but also because once a headhunter has done whatever they made the pact to do, the spirits usually drive them to attack Imperial interests. But the Empire’s asymmetrical tactics involve the use of multiple people. Well-trained and well-equipped people to be sure, but people who simply cannot react or adapt as fast as the headhunter can. In the end, the Empire’s might and resources have always prevailed… But in every headhunter attack of which I’m aware, the cost was steep. None of the first wave of Imperial agents sent to counter them survive.”

“What would you recommend,” Trissiny asked quietly, “a person do if they faced a headhunter in combat?”

Yornhaldt closed his eyes for a moment before answering. “I will repeat my earlier warning, Ms. Avelea; we are speaking of theories, and nothing we have discussed is meant to be taken as a call to action. But…to answer your question…” He looked directly at her, his expression solemn. “Whatever paladin, dryad, archdemon or whatever else you are, if you face an Eldei Alai’shi, you run. Pray that they aren’t interested in you, and flee. Let the Empire and the gods deal with it, because I promise you, no one else can.”

In the thick silence which followed, he sighed again, then turned and tapped the drawing of the Circle of Interaction with a finger. Immediately, its glow winked out, leaving it an ordinary design of chalk on the blackboard.

“No homework today. I suspect you all have plenty to think about, for now. Class dismissed.”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

2 – 16

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

“We ready, then?” asked Rafe brightly. Trissiny repressed a sigh. They weren’t ready; she did not have a good opinion of this plan, but the others had overruled her. Again.

“It’s a little unwieldy,” said Fross, drifting slightly to one side before catching herself. “The featherweight oil’s working, though. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble carrying it at speed.”

“Just be careful not to spill it. At least, not before it’s time to.”

“Yes, I know, Professor.”

She looked very odd with a cobbled-together tray of bottles and glass vials suspended from her, swaying gently back and forth. Fross appeared to be able to handle the weight, but the students were nonetheless keeping their distance, knowing what was in those bottles.

“I still don’t like that we pillaged Horsebutt’s grave goods to make that,” Ruda grumbled. “It’s not respectful.”

“We just took a few arrows to make the frame,” said Gabe tersely. He still had Juniper wrapped around him, and was still clearly feeling the effects of the war drums. The rest of them were mostly okay, thanks to time spent in Toby’s calming aura. “Just be glad Rafe had so much spidersilk in that belt or we’d have been truly fucked.”

“Still doesn’t feel right,” she said. “I left some food and ale, but… I dunno if that’s what he’d like. Don’t need an angry ghost coming after us”

“Well, he was a barbarian warlord,” Teal said. “What else would he like? We could leave some coins?”

“Hmph. Simple things, practical things. Food, drink, loot and girls. Oh,” she said, grinning suddenly. “Maybe I could strip down, lie on his tomb and jill myself off a couple times. Bet he’d get a kick out of that.”

“Okay,” Gabriel said after a moment’s stunned pause. “Two questions. Would that actually work, and if so, can I watch?”

“It actually might,” said Rafe, “and no, that seems like the kind of thing for which Trissiny would stab you.”

They all shifted their eyes to look at her. Trissiny glanced back and forth around the group, then shrugged irritably. “What? You’re expecting me to argue?”

“Horsebutt will have to be content with Ruda’s offering and our apologies,” Rafe said firmly. “I don’t think we can afford to waste much more time here. Fross? You’re up.”

“Wish me luck!” the pixie chirped, then drifted toward the doorway to the canyon. She was moving without apparent strain, but much more slowly than usual. There was a collective indrawing of breath as she came perilously close to clipping the stone doorframe with her makeshift basket, but she corrected and made it out into open air without trouble. From there she ascended rapidly out of sight. There came no immediate outcry from the centaurs; she had clearly well followed her instructions to move outside their range of view.

“Right,” said Rafe. “Demons, your turn.”

Juniper gave Gabe a quick kiss on the cheek, squeezed him once, and then let him go, backing away. Immediately the blackness in his eyes expanded to fill them completely and he hunched forward, features twisting as he fought the artificial rage induced by the centaurs’ infernal magic.

Teal shifted without a word; even with her wings folded tightly against her back, Vadrieny’s blazing presence was overwhelming in the cramped tunnel. She stalked forward, talons crunching on the gravel-strewn floor, the others pressing themselves against the wall to get out of her path, and laid one clawed hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Right,” Rafe repeated. “Good. Now that you’re here and the moment is upon us, Vadrieny, I want you to grab Ruda too.”

“What?” Ruda said shrilly.

“She’s the most vulnerable of those left, with no magic of her own,” the Professor continued inexorably. “Get her to safety. The rest of us can cope.”

“Fuck you!” Ruda snarled, grasping at her rapier. “I’m not leaving my friends like that!”

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said sharply. “Vadrieny—”

“Not happening,” said the demon curtly.

Rafe boggled at her for a moment, then scowled. “Look, this is in the best—”

“You look.” She pointed one wicked claw at him, glaring. “Ruda fights. She stands by her friends. Loyalty and valor—those aren’t just values, that’s who and what she is. Maybe someday, Rafe, someone will strip away your identity, and then you’ll understand why you don’t do that to a person. Ready to go, Gabriel?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he rasped, lifting his eyes to look helplessly at the others. “Guys, I… I’m sorry. I wish…”

“It’s all right, Gabe,” Toby said firmly. “Get to safety. Get Tellwyrn; that’s the best thing you can do for us now.”

Gabriel had time to nod once before Vadrieny steered him firmly out of the tunnel, wrapped one arm around his chest, and took off with a mighty beat of her wings. They were instantly lost to sight, but there came a whooping from above as the centaurs spotted the glowing demon passing.

“We are going to talk about this, you and me,” Ruda said grimly, glaring at Rafe.

“Can’t wait,” he muttered.

“Is there even the slightest chance of Tellwyrn coming to help?” Trissiny asked quietly.

“Not really, no.” Rafe shook his head. “She may be the biggest, baddest mage alive, but the Golden Sea… Even gods have had trouble navigating in here. Teleporting into the Sea is completely random. Traveling by foot or by air isn’t much better unless you’re going toward the edge. Nope, we’d best not count on any backup arriving.”

She nodded, unsurprised, and drew her sword.

Toby shifted uncomfortably. “How long do you think it’ll take Fross… Oh. That must be her.”

The sounds from above erupted into utter cacophony. The drums, mercifully, stopped. The centaurs’ hollering abruptly increased tenfold in volume and intensity, many of the shouts becoming outright screams, and the sound of hoofbeats thundered about even more erratically than when they had first arrived.

Fross’s collection of bottles had been a hodgepodge of disruptive compounds Rafe had been carrying. Hallucinogens and fear inducers, both of which he’d tweaked—while the others had woven together the hasty basket—to become airborne once opened. A bottle of pure elemental wind to spread the effects around as much as possible. A few bottled shades, barely intelligent shadow elementals which would rush around in a mad panic in the absence of specific orders; he had bemoaned the loss of those, but they would be just the push needed to scatter the suddenly drugged and terrified centaurs.

“Ahh.” Rafe grinned fiendishly, rubbing his hands. “I do love it when a plan comes together. Confusion and chaos, kids. This is why you don’t screw with the alchemist!”

“Time for us to move,” Trissiny said curtly, stepping out into the canyon.

Afternoon was fading above; it was already deep twilight within the canyon, only the reddish sky still showing any signs of light. The gloom was less disturbing than the chaos from the plains. No matter that the centaurs were enemies of the worst order, hearing them screaming in abject terror was not pleasant for anyone.

The others filed out behind her, quiet as possible; Trissiny barely waited for them to exit the passage before setting off back the way they had come.

It was a tense, macabre reenactment of their journey into the canyon in the first place. Again, the centaurs were galloping about without plan or purpose, but this time they were obviously suffering utter havoc, rather than exulting in high spirits. Here and there, sounds of fighting broke out as the potion-addled brutes turned on each other. This time, too, it was dark, and growing darker by the moment; Shaeine carefully tucked her black glasses into their case and then into her robes. As before, though, the students made their progress as carefully and quietly as they could without sacrificing too much speed.

With a horrible scream, a centaur pitched over the rim of the canyon above, striking the ground with a massive thud mangled by the snapping of limbs. She lay there, kicking with broken legs and shrieking nonstop until Trissiny darted over to her and beheaded the creature with a quick stroke.

The others stared at her, wide-eyed, as she returned to the group. Shaeine, though, nodded once in understanding. In that instance, the tactically sound thing was also the only kindness she could have offered. Neither of them could have healed those injuries, even if they’d wanted to.

“Hug the wall, just like we did on the way in,” she said, pitching her voice barely loud enough to be audible above the carnage. “If any more fall off, they’ll hopefully overshoot us. We don’t want to be landed on.”

She resumed her place in the lead, setting off. They followed again with only the slightest hesitation.

For all that the trip back started much worse than the trip out had been, it gradually got better. The centaurs grew more scattered and this time they actually managed to leave them behind; they had apparently made their camp above the tomb to wait for the students to emerge. They made much better time, too, moving with a purpose and a somewhat diminished need for stealth. In what seemed like relatively short order, the canyon walls shortened enough that they had to hunch to hide beneath them, which they did; distant or no, the centaurs were still audibly present, still making a constant din of screams and occasional crashes.

Trissiny called a halt; this was where they were meant to rendezvous with Fross, and there was as yet no sign of the pixie. She knew to head downhill, which would lead reliably to Last Rock, if she became separated, but Trissiny very much hoped it didn’t come to that. They wouldn’t know their missing classmate’s fate until they got back to the University in that case, and if Fross didn’t turn up there, they’d have no realistic prospect of mounting a rescue.

At least it was finally growing dark enough to see stars. The pixie would be much easier to spot against a black sky.

“Everybody catch your breath,” she said quietly. “When Fross finds us, we’re going to move as quickly as we can, straight downhill. Once we’re out on the open plain, stealth is not going to be a possibility. We’ll do our best to get out of range of the centaurs, and if any of them catch up, we’ll have to fight.”

“How long does that stuff last, Professor?” asked Toby.

“Should keep ’em completely out of commission for most of the night! I don’t brew halfway, sonny boy.”

“And after that they’ll have a hard time regrouping. They’ll have wounded to tend to, and whatever supplies they were carrying were almost certainly damaged in the chaos.” Trissiny nodded grudgingly. “It’ll mean a very exhausting night, but I’d say odds are decent that if we make good time we won’t have to deal—”

It had been perfectly still; none of them had realized anyone was there. But abruptly, a centaur burst upright out of the tallgrass not twenty yards away, where he had apparently been lying on his side. Trissiny spun to face him, and for an instant they locked eyes. His face was twisted by panic, but not reduced to witlessness. She saw him see her. See all of them.

He raised a horn to his lips and blew a series of sharp blasts, galloping back along the rim of the canyon toward whatever was left of the main herd.

“All right,” said Rafe, “which one of you forgot to make an offering to Arseface, the god of irony?”

“Nevermind,” said Trissiny. “We have to move. Those who are so inclined, say a prayer of guidance for Fross, but do it while we run.”

She suited the words with action, setting out at a sharp pace after doing a quick visual scan to identify the direction in which the prairie gently sloped. The others immediately followed; to her frustration, Trissiny had to moderate her pace somewhat. Clearly she was the only one accustomed to prolonged running.

In fairness, it hardly mattered. There was no way they were going to outrun centaurs.

For a good ten minutes it seemed they actually might; it was at least that long before the sounds behind them obviously became organized. Trissiny skidded to a halt, though, when the hunting horns rose. At least three separate tones. She turned back to face their pursuers. They were merely a line of indistinct shapes in the darkness, but even at this distance, she felt the faint prickling of diabolic magic at work.

“Stop,” she said firmly. Juniper leaned forward, bracing her hands on her knees; Shaeine was also out of breath. “Everyone catch your breath as best you can, we don’t want to face this overtired. Toby, can you ease everyone’s weariness?”

“I have been,” he replied, then grimaced apologetically. “Except… It won’t work on Juniper, divine magic’s not helpful for fae. Sorry, June.”

“’S’fine,” the dryad said, waving him off. She straightened slowly with an odd cracking sound like twigs snapping. She wasn’t panting; she wasn’t, Trissiny realized, breathing at all, but her body language clearly showed fatigue.

“Are you all right, June?” she asked.

“Yup. Just let me…limber up a bit.” Juniper rolled her neck and shook out her arms. “I’m not really used to running. I’ll be fine.”

“Good. When they get close enough to start their attack, I want you on point. Be out in front and take down whatever they send at you.”

“Can do,” the dryad said grimly, stepping forward to position herself between the group and the rapidly approaching centaurs.

“Shaeine, support her initially with your shields until the battle closes and Ruda and I advance to her position. I want her to take the first hits; use your best judgment about what’s too much for her to take.”

“Why’s that, exactly?” Ruda demanded.

“Psychological warfare,” Trissiny said, keeping her eye on the enemy. They had slowed their advance, forming into a more even line. That was not the behavior of people hopped up on alchemical terror drugs. Either the potions had missed a few, or they had a way to counteract them. It was barely more than a dozen, though, which was much better than facing the full horde of fifty. “They’ll open with arrows, spears and/or infernal magic. Juniper’s impervious to diabolism—well, diabolism of the caliber those creatures can manage. She’s also our most durable member, and can take a few hits. I want them to see their opening salvo fail to make a dent on a pretty girl in a short dress before we proceed to carving them up. June, as soon as you feel you’ve had enough, start backing up and Ruda and I will move in and take the front. Then focus on healing yourself until you feel ready to rejoin the fight.”

“Got it.” The dryad smiled brightly at her. “You know, you’re actually really good at this!”

“This is what I’ve trained for my whole life,” the paladin said grimly.

“And me?” Rafe asked. Trissiny repressed the first comment that came to mind. Thanks to him and his nonsense, she was conducting this battle with their two most impervious members—one of whom was also their hardest hitter—absent, not to mention their ranged magic support. This was not the time, though; you didn’t berate your troops right before an engagement if you wanted them fighting at their best.

“Unless you’ve got a weapon, hang back. Since holy magic won’t heal Juniper and I’d rather she not waste her energy, use any applicable potions you’ve still got to support her.”

“Rightyo!”

“What, no special instructions for me?” Ruda asked grinning.

Trissiny shook her head. “Your job is to kill things. I don’t think you need supervision.”

The pirate laughed. “Once in a while, roomie, you say something that makes me think we just might learn to get along.”

“Here we go,” Trissiny said firmly as the centaurs let out simultaneous blasts on three hunting horns. “Stand firm and show them just what they’re messing with, people.”

The centaurs—fourteen of them—formed a cohesive line fifty yards distant. At their center was a female who stood head and shoulders taller than any of the others, wearing a feathered headdress and carrying a long staff surmounted by a collection of grinning skulls. Even from this distance, Trissiny could feel the demonic magic radiating from her.

One trotted forward, a male—the same one, she realized, who’d spotted them and sounded the alarm. He made a diagonal pass across the distance between the two groups, studying them. She saw the moment when he realized they had no bows, wands or spears: a savage grin broke across his features and he wheeled about, charging forward directly at Juniper.

The dryad had stepped forward, placing a good six yards between herself and the other students, and stood there, watching him come. He eyed her up and down with a leer even as he rapidly closed with her; even if she didn’t know the habits of centaurs, Trissiny would have suspected his intent. In seconds, he had closed the distance. Not slowing in the slightest, he re-angled himself to pass perpendicular to the battle lines, reaching out to grab a fistful of Juniper’s hair in passing.

He might as well have grabbed a tree.

The centaur emitted a pained squawk as he was brought up short, flopping onto his side, his legs going out from under him. Juniper very calmly raised her own leg and kicked him right under the chin.

With a disturbing pop, his head went sailing back the way he had come, striking the ground and bouncing toward the other centaurs. It vanished into the tallgrass before reaching them.

With a howl of rage, another female broke from the centaur lines and charged forward, this one brandishing a staff somewhat less elaborate than that wielded by their leader. She gesticulated with this as she came, sending a huge, roughly bird-shaped patch of shadow careening straight at Juniper.

It struck the dryad and vanished.

The charging centaur’s yells only grew more furious. She launched two more of the shadow-birds, each of which simply petered out upon making contact; the second one, Juniper actually swatted out of the air, grinning.

Her smugness vanished when the warlock changed tactics, hurling a fireball. The dryad yelped, diving frantically out of the way. The spell impacted the ground just beyond where she had been, igniting the tallgrass; Juniper rolled to her feet and lunged away from it in a panic, even as the rest of the students were forced back from the growing blaze, Rafe fishing frantically in his belt for something to put it out.

The centaur warlock brandished her staff again, grinning triumphantly and calling another ball of fire into being. Her own victorious expression was snuffed out when a translucent silver wall sprang into existence right in front of her. Moving too fast to stop,she slammed into it at full speed with a hideous crunch and staggered backward, then fell to the ground, stunned.

“Good work, Shaeine!” Trissiny shouted. “Everyone, regroup! Back away from the fire. Juniper, this way! Don’t get separated!”

The centaurs had started to move forward at a walk, the leader brandishing her skull staff overhead. The students were in disarray, despite Trissiny’s efforts to regather them together; the fire was taking hold admirably in the dry tallgrass, spreading fast and unpredictably.

And then, out of nowhere, a blast of frigid wind ripped across the space between them, accompanied an instant later by a brutal splattering of sleet. In seconds, the fire was gone and a swath of scorched tallgrass glistened under a thin coating of ice.

“Hi, guys!” Fross sang, zipping into their midst. “What’d I miss?”

“Fross!” Trissiny shouted in relief. “Thank the goddess, I was afraid they’d caught you. Can you discourage them while we pull back together? Elemental magic only, they may be able to turn arcane spells against you.”

“Excuse me, I’m an arcane sciences major. I know my circles of interaction. Hey, four-legged assholes! BEHOLD!”

From the tiny point of white light that was the pixie sprang forward an unthinkable torrent of magic. A wave of wind rippled across the plain, drawing the centaurs up short; in its wake came dozens of icicles, spraying across them without pattern. They let out cries of surprise and pain; some of those shafts of ice were sharp enough to pierce flesh. A few halfhearted bursts of fire cut swaths into the ice storm, but after less than half a minute, the centaurs broke formation and wheeled about, galloping away in full retreat.

“They grow up so fast,” Rafe sniffled.

“Is everybody all right?” Trissiny asked as they finally managed to regroup.

“Peachy keen! I’m…whoo, head rush…” Fross chimed weakly, and dropped suddenly from the air. Shaeine dived forward to catch her in her cupped hands.

“Fross!” Toby said in alarm.

“She’s okay,” Juniper assured them, peering down at the spent pixie, “just exhausted. Pixies are basically made of magic; she can’t exactly run out, but she can dip so low she’s got no energy left for stuff like flying and talking. Here, give her to me, your fingers’ll get frostbite.” Tenderly taking Fross from Shaeine, she set the pixie atop her head, nestling her into her thatch of green hair. “There. That was a lot of power to be throwing around at once. She’ll be okay in a few hours.”

“So we can’t expect her to do that again anytime soon?” Rafe said, glancing back the way the centaurs had gone.

“Better not. Honestly, I think she might try, but she’ll just burn herself out again. It’s not…unsafe. Like I said, pixie magic is pretty much bottomless. But there’s a limit to how much she can hold at one time.”

“So she needs to regenerate,” said Trissiny, “and we need to move. I don’t think we can afford to assume they’ve had enough.”

“What would you guess are the odds?” Toby asked, as they fell into step behind her. She didn’t try to lead them at a run, this time; she’d chivvy them into a faster pace presently, but for now, Fross wasn’t the only one needing to regather her strength.

“Depends on too many factors we can’t really understand,” she replied. “Mostly down to their culture and the psychology of that big one who was leading.”

“It comes down to this,” said Ruda. “They’re raiders. We’ve just embarrassed them twice; they can’t have that. The leader can’t have it, it’ll be cutting into her authority. If we scared them badly enough, she may not be able to whip them back into fighting shape to come after us. Otherwise, they definitely will.”

“Their apparent leader, in addition to being an abnormally large specimen, was clearly a warlock of significant power,” said Shaeine. “It is difficult to imagine that they are more frightened of us than they are of her.”

Toby closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “So you’re saying…”

“We’re saying,” Trissiny said grimly, “it is going to be a long night. Walk faster.”


 

There were few things more brutally exhausting than a long fighting retreat, as they soon learned.

The centaurs did not give up. They managed to kill a few with each engagement, but the overall trend in their numbers was in the opposite direction as they gathered more of their scattered herd. The students suffered only minor wounds, easily mended with three light-wielders and an alchemist in their group, but they were leaning heavily on Toby’s gifts and Rafe’s concoctions to keep their energy up. Nobody knew exactly where the tipping point would be, but they were all very well aware that magic and alchemy were not long-term substitutes for rest, especially when they were alternating constant running with short bursts of grueling violence.

The first time the centaurs charged again, a swift counter-charge by Trissiny and Ruda smashed their lines, throwing them into disarray. Despite their disadvantages in numbers and size, the two humans were wreathed in healing light from Toby and mobile barriers provided by Shaeine; the centaurs very quickly grew tired of fighting indestructible little pests who darted into their midst wielding cold steel, and broke away to regroup.

Thereafter, they abandoned their strategy of using numbers and weight, preferring to make passes from a safe distance, firing arrows and spells. Shaeine continued to shield the group from projectiles and Fross, by that point, had recovered enough to retaliate with ice bolts, though at Juniper and Trissiny’s insistence, she carefully paced herself. Even Rafe managed to be helpful, hurling vials that unleashed fire, poison, blasts of wind, glue, and all manner of effects. Any lone centaurs who wandered too close to the group were taken down brutally by Juniper; the couple of times small knots of them tried to charge, those who slipped past the dryad were cut down by the two swordswomen.

This long engagement stretched for over and hour before the students, faltering with weariness, changed their own tactics. As yet another column galloped past, readying their bows, Fross zipped overhead to blast them with wind and snow from the other side, herding them closer to the group, while at the same time Shaeine slammed a shield into place, boxing them in. Ruda, Trissiny and Juniper waded into the mix, wreaking devastation, until the centaurs broke completely and scattered, beaten and demoralized.

One group, anyway. There always seemed to be more trickling back into the herd to replenish their numbers, even as the students grew weaker and more weary.

In the aftermath of the failure of their last charge, they attempted to regroup into battle lines, as they had in the first place, but were sent into full retreat when Toby burst into radiance with an intensity that lit up the prairie like high noon. Throwing his arm forward, he sent his own aura rushing at them, a small mobile sun. In its wake, Trissiny could feel the crawling miasma of infernal magic burned away. The centaurs finally retreated out of their line of sight.

“Sorry, Shaeine,” Toby said ruefully.

“No apologies necessary,” she replied, rubbing at her eyes. “I would appreciate a word of warning next time, however.”

“There’s…there’s not gonna be a next time,” he said. “I can’t manage that again. Guys…I’m nearing the point of burnout, here. If we don’t do something to stop this soon…” He let the thought trail off. It wasn’t really necessary to finish it.

The light of the gods was infinite in scope and depth, but there were stark limits to how much of it mortal flesh could safely channel. “Burnout” was not a euphemism; clerics who drew too deeply on divine power tended to literally combust. Some deities cut off their followers before it got to that point. Avei, trusting her soldiers to recognize the battle in which they would die, did not. Trissiny wasn’t feeling the warning twinges of heat herself, but she had been relying more on muscle while Toby was using divine magic entirely.

“It will be as the gods will,” she said grimly, bringing up the rear of the party.

“That’s just fuckin’ wonderful, that is,” Ruda growled, trudging along just in front of them. “What a fucking miserable place to die. No proper body of water within miles.”

“We’re not going to—” Trissiny broke off her reassurance as Juniper abruptly collapsed.

“June!” Ruda shouted, rushing over to her and kneeling at the dryad’s side. “Oh, fuck…she’s not breathing!”

“She doesn’t breathe,” said Rafe, coming over beside her. “Not the way we do, anyhow. You won’t find a pulse, either. See, her skin’s warm. Dryads go all wooden when they die, she’s fine.”

“I think ‘fine’ might be an overly optimistic description of someone who has just fallen unconscious,” said Shaeine. Indeed, Ruda’s shaking and patting was getting no response at all from the dryad.

“All right,” Rafe said grimly, hooking his hands under Juniper’s shoulders, “We’ll have to—OW! My back! Holy fuck, she weighs a literal ton!”

“Metaphysical properties of a tree, remember?” said Trissiny. “That’s how she’s been shrugging off all those hits. I guess if she’s not conscious to control it, she gets more…tree-like.”

“I’ve never seen a tree faint before,” Toby said worriedly.

“I bet if you ever saw a tree run cross-country as long as Juniper just has, you’d see it faint.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s it exactly,” Fross said, buzzing about their heads in a tizzy. “Dryads are really strong and very durable but they aren’t perfect, everybody’s got their weaknesses. Fire’s very bad for them, and they’re really meant to be kinda stationary. Oh, man, what are we gonna do? We can’t let her die, Naiya would massacre everybody within a mile.”

“No one is letting anyone die,” Trissiny said firmly. “Rafe can carry her.”

“Are you out of your—”

“Featherweight oil!” she snapped. “Surely you didn’t use all of it making that absurd basket?”

He blinked at her. “Oh. Huh. That’s actually a pretty good idea. Right on…sorry about this, Juno, but I’m going to have to lather you a bit,” he said, turning back to the fallen dryad and reaching into one of his belt pouches.

Trissiny scanned the horizon. On this flat terrain the centaurs really shouldn’t have been able to get out of their view so quickly, especially when they were up the incline, slight as it was. Perhaps the Golden Sea had shifted them away… But then, how did they keep following? Ansheh had said they had ways of controlling or at least influencing the Sea’s changes up to a point.

In the end, logic only went so far; she was a creature of faith. They were still out there. They were still coming. She could feel it.

Her fellow students were in sorry shape. Fross seemed to have recovered from her previous exhaustion and was buzzing around Rafe, chattering something about dryads at high speed. Ruda and Shaeine were both sitting in the grass, the pirate looking absolutely worn out. The drow was poised as ever, but even her slim shoulders were slumped with fatigue. Toby had kept his feet, but his face was drawn tight with exhaustion.

Trissiny wasn’t tired. She had always had more stamina than the other girls she’d trained with; now, with the goddess supporting her, she was still good to keep going. The others, though, weren’t going to last much longer.

“Toby,” she said quietly, “a word?”

He looked up, glanced over at the others, and nodded, allowing her to lead him a few yards away. Still plenty close enough for Shaeine to hear, but it couldn’t be helped.

“I need you to look after everyone,” she said quietly. “Keep them safe, and keep them moving. Do not stop until dawn at the earliest, and even then, not until the Sea gives you something defensible to camp in.”

“Triss, no,” he said sharply. “I know what you’re driving at, and you can forget it. We stick together.”

“That ship has sailed,” she retorted. “We should have made our stand when we had the full group together. Everyone’s on their last legs; they can’t keep doing this. Look at me. I can.”

“But—”

“I wasn’t trained for diplomacy, so I hope you’ll forgive my bluntness,” she said fiercely. “You are holding me back. None of you can fight in anything approaching my league, with the exception of Ruda, who doesn’t have any magic supporting her. Having to ride herd on all of you is crippling me. If I can get into the middle of the centaurs, call on everything Avei will give me, go all out… Well, only the gods know what will happen, but it will be a very different game. All I need to do is take out the leader, I think.”

“And the others? How will you get back, even if you win? And how can you possibly win? Trissiny, think about this, you can’t seriously—”

“A paladin’s life is sacrifice,” she said coldly. “With all due respect, Tobias, I suggest you get used to it.” He reared back, staring at her as if she’d slapped him, and a stabbing pain shot through her heart. “This is what I do,” she said more gently. “This is what I am. I fight. I protect. You nourish and support. These are the roles our gods called us to, Toby. You have to let me do this.” He just stared at her, anguish suppressing the weariness on his face. She reached up and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know I’m asking a lot, and I’m sorry. But I need you to get the others moving, make them accept this, and get them home, and safe. Can you do it?”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, then nodded, swallowing heavily. “I guess I’ll have to,” he said miserably, opening his eyes to look at her again. There was a strained moment between them, and then, suddenly, Toby wrapped her into a hug, squeezing fiercely despite the way her armor had to be digging into his skin. “Omnu light your path, Hand of Avei,” he whispered fiercely, then kissed her on the forehead. It tingled nearly as much as the gentle warmth of Omnu’s blessing did, settling over her.

A blush suffused her features as she finally, reluctantly pulled back; Trissiny devoutly hoped none of what she was feeling was visible on her face. Of all the silly things, at a time like this…having the tingles over a boy. Mother Narny would either laugh at her or box her ears.

Suddenly, she realized that Shaeine was right there. The drow reached up to place one hand gently on Trissiny’s cheek, and she felt another light sensation ripple through her like a gentle breeze.

“Wisdom guide your steps, sister,” the priestess said quietly, “and bring you safely back to us. An’thashar talamyth nil.” She stepped back three times, bowed deeply, and turned back to the others.

Trissiny swallowed, forced herself to meet Toby’s gaze, and nodded to him. “Go. Now. I don’t know how much time I can buy you.”

Turning her back on them was easier than facing them. She wasn’t made for heartfelt goodbyes and awkward embraces: she was the Hand of Avei, a creature of justice, of war. Among the torrent of emotions spiraling through her was a rising sense of purpose. Certainty.

Trissiny strode forward, alone, toward the enemy, while her friends resumed their retreat behind her, and found that for the first time in days, she was finally calm.

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

2 – 15

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

“There’s nobody out there now,” Fross reported, buzzing back into the hall, “but there are horse tracks all over. Centaur tracks, actually, I’m assuming. Also…our tracks, which I guess explains how they found us.”

“Stupid,” Trissiny muttered. “I should’ve thought of that. Rafe even has that stuff which hides footprints…”

“Then we’re all equally stupid,” Toby said firmly, “and there’s no point in dwelling on it or casting blame. Let’s deal with our current situation.”

They had moved into the last stretch of hall, leaving the tomb itself, by unanimous agreement. Whatever the spirit of Horsebutt may have thought of them, it simply didn’t feel right to anybody to loiter in someone’s final resting place. Juniper had seemed somewhat nonplussed at this, but had followed the group without comment.

“My original plan stands, then,” said Trissiny, nodding. “Matters are slightly different now that they’ve had a chance to prepare for us, but the canyon remains a good place to hold off a charge. Shaeine, can you put a shield over us to cover while we get in position?”

“Now, hold on,” Rafe protested. “I’m not about to sign off on you kids going to war. Waiting the bastards out seems like a better strategy, since they can’t get in here. We’ve got plenty of food for a few days.”

“We are not equipped for a seige,” she said firmly. “They can hunt and gather up there, quite apart from whatever provisions they have. We don’t even have water. Plus there’s the immediate issue of sanitation.”

“Actually, I can fix that,” he said brightly. “For a day at least; it’s not wise to take back-to-back doses, that can mess up your body chemistry. But a quick sip and you’ll all be fully self-contained biological vessels for the duration!”

“Fucking ew,” Ruda muttered.

“Plus,” Trissiny went on patiently, “there is the immediate matter of the drums.”

They all paused to glance upward. The drumming was muted by rock and distance, but hadn’t let up in the last half hour.

“Do you remember me saying those drums were a weapon?” she continued. “Specifically, they are warlock tools. The war drums induce a state of bloodlust in those already steeped in infernal magic, and create unnatural fear in all others. Stealing emotional energy, in essence, trading our poise for their power. They severely demoralize a foe while strengthening the centaurs themselves.”

“I can deal with that,” said Toby. “The aura of calm is Omnu’s most basic gift to his followers. It should neutralize their advantage completely.”

“That’s great, as far as it goes. But I’m not as much concerned about fear among the rest of us as the drums’ effect on those already steeped in infernal magic.” She turned to stare significantly at Gabriel, the others following her gaze.

“I’m fine,” he said hoarsely, and completely unconvincingly. He was hunched over and breathing hard, as if winded, and refused to lift his head to make eye contact with anyone.

“Oh…shit,” said Ruda.

“I’m fine,” Gabriel snapped.

“Gabriel,” said Trissiny quietly, “look at me.”

“I don’t need your—”

“Look at me!” she barked. He jerked his head up, meeting her gaze.

His eyes were completely black.

“Toby,” said Trissiny calmly, “your aura of calm is divine in nature. It will hurt him if you use it. Do you think it would have a calming effect, even so? Are you willing to subject him to constant pain if it does? And how long can that possibly work even in the best case scenario?” She shook her head. “We can’t stay here. The longer we wait, the more worn out and vulnerable we become. We have to deal with our enemy, and in this situation that means striking first.”

Juniper, who had been crouched against the wall nearest the exit tunnel, stood up, walked over to Gabriel, and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her head on his shoulder. He took a deep, shuddering gasp, then straightened slightly. The darkness receded somewhat from the edges of his eyes. “Oh…wow. That’s actually better. What did you do?”

“Cuddled you,” she replied, not moving.

“Juniper is a very high-ranking fae,” said Shaeine. “Fairy magic is disruptive to infernal magic. Have you any active spells you can use, Juniper?”

The dryad shook her head, rubbing her cheek against Gabriel’s shoulder. “Some healing, but it only works on physical wounds. I can talk with animals, and plants, sort of. Nothing…y’know, flashy.”

“It’s better, though,” said Gabe, then actually grinned faintly. “And I can’t say I mind. This is cozy.”

“That’s because I have very nice breasts,” Juniper said matter-of-factly. “I know how you like it when they’re touching you.”

“And that buys us some time, at least,” Trissiny said, her impatience beginning to leak into her voice. “But it doesn’t change our situation!”

“She’s right,” said Ruda. “We’re just gonna get weaker if we try to wait this out; they’ve got all the advantage. With apologies to our resident pacifists, there’s a time when you just gotta go out there and fuck somebody up. It’s that time, people.”

“All right, hold up,” said Rafe firmly. His tone and expression were so different from his normal slack-jawed insouciance that they all looked over at him in surprise. “There’s more to a situation than fight or huddle. Fleeing is also a good option.”

“Those are centaurs,” Trissiny exclaimed. “They run like horses!”

“I didn’t say we should challenge them to a footrace. There’s such a thing as subterfuge, though. All we’ve gotta do is create a little confusion, and I think I know how.”

“And then what? Wait till they run us down again?”

“I was thinking more about making sure they’re in no position to do that. And frankly, Triss, maybe you should acknowledge your own bias. It’s not so hard to conceive that the Hand of War is more inclined to a combative solution, is it?”

“Um, I don’t see how this is anything but a combative situation,” Fross interjected. “Those aren’t creatures we can negotiate with, even I’ve read enough about centaurs to know that. This is almost certain to come to a fight one way or another, and if everyone will please remember, Professor Tellwyrn specifically said we should listen to Trissiny if a fight happens!”

“She is not here,” Rafe said sharply, “and while we’re on the subject, let me tell you about Professor Tellwyrn. She believes in testing people, hard. I would even say cruelly. If she were leading this expedition and you went too long without stumbling into something life-threatening, she would damn well go find or create something life-threatening for you to deal with, just to see how you did. However, she would also stand watch over the proceedings and make sure nobody actually died. End of the day, testing is all well and good, but what matters is getting you kids home alive, and I’m making a decision here. Fifty bloodthirsty centaurs is not an academic exercise, it’s a threat. The trip’s over, we’re getting the hell out of this.”

“Fine!” Trissiny said sharply. “But you still haven’t presented a solid case against fighting them off! We have the capacity.”

“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe not. If you’re right and we tried it, well, great. If you’re wrong, then we wouldn’t find out until somebody was dead or maimed.” He panned a stare across the whole group. “Going to battle is something you do only when it’s necessary. If I can present a solid plan that’ll get us out if this without it becoming necessary, will you guys agree to go along?”

Nobody answered him; they all turned to look at Trissiny. She folded her arms. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

“All right. Step one, we have to evacuate our devilkin before those drums get to them. Vadrieny can fly and carry someone, she’s proven this. She needs to take Gabe and get out of range, pronto. You can make it back to Last Rock pretty quick at her flight speed; tell Arachne what’s going on and try to get help in case it’s needed.”

“I don’t…think…the drums are working on Vadrieny,” Teal said hesitantly. “I don’t feel anything… She doesn’t feel anything.”

“She’s a whole other class of demon, Teal. A dozen orders of magnitude beyond a half-hethelax; she’ll be resistant to tampering. That might mean the drums just won’t work, or that they don’t work as well… Or maybe that they won’t work as quickly and the effects will hit all at once later. Frankly, that’s a risk we can’t take. If Vadrieny goes berserk… Two paladins, a cleric and a dryad aren’t going to cut it. She’ll demolish us.”

Teal folded her arms around herself and looked downward, but didn’t offer him any argument.

“If that’s the case,” Toby said slowly, “how many can she carry? I doubt she could take us all out, but…she’s got two hands.”

“Nope,” said Ruda. Toby blinked at her.

“Nope?”

“Nope.” The pirate shook her head. “Nobody else’ll go. Think what we got here: three Light-wielding types, right? Any of you willing to bug out and leave the rest of us to the centaurs?” She raised an eyebrow, glancing around at them. “Didn’t think so. You can add me to that list. I’d never be able to look my papa in the eye if I ditched crewmates in a battle.”

“That still leaves Juniper,” Gabe said, placing a hand over one of the dryad’s, where it pressed against his heart.

“Nuh uh.” Ruda shook her head again. “She couldn’t even fly carrying Juniper. Fae and demon magic, remember? C’mon, we’ve been over this in Yornhaldt’s class; it’s not advanced stuff. Vadrieny doesn’t actually have a body, she’s using Teal’s. So when she…y’know, comes out, that’s all magic. It’s a spell effect. It won’t even work if she’s so much as touching a dryad.”

There was a moment’s silence while they digested this.

“That’s…very insightful, Ruda,” Toby said slowly.

Ruda grinned sardonically. “Ooh, look, pirate girl has a brain. Stop the fuckin’ presses.”

“So, that’s settled,” Rafe said, drawing their attention back. “Demon-touched safely out of the picture, all we have to do is throw the centaurs into confusion and get ourselves the hell out.”

“I’m still waiting to hear how you intend to do that.”

He grinned. “Wait no longer, then, Trissiny. I think even you’ll like this.”


 

“Are you people insane!?” the man in the cell shrieked. “What are you doing? How?!”

“I see you’re still in a mood,” Darling said solemnly. “That’s fine, I’ll come back later.”

“Of course I’m still in a mood, you fucking imbecile! You were just here a minute ago!”

“All right, well, good chat,” he said cheerily, waving his fingers at the three inmates. “You kids be good, now!”

Whistling jauntily—just to irritate them, because he was not inclined to be the bigger person as a rule—Darling bounced up the steps to the doors of the jail. Aside from the elaborately carved oak door, it looked like any other prison on the inside: stone floors, torchlight, iron bars separating cramped cells. When he slipped out, though, shutting the door behind him on the newest prisoner’s ranting, he was left standing in front of the elaborately carved wardrobe set up in the little house’s basement.

“Have fun eyeballing your little collection?” the demon said snidely from within his circle. Darling just strode past him, still whistling. It didn’t pay to interact with demons any more than was absolutely necessary.

His thoughts were occupied, anyway. That wardrobe had certainly cost more than a comparably-sized prison would have to build. The enchantments on it were state-of-the art, and the power source running it was an enchanted crystal of the sort the archwizards of old had spent lifetimes creating and went to war to steal from each other. The use of pocket dimensions for storage—even of people—wasn’t anything new, but time within this prison was frozen except when a person bearing one of the control runes entered. Thus, the four prisoners had scarcely had time to get their bearings, even two days later Mrs. Harkley had originally been locked in. With the Bishops checking on them every hour and not staying long, she had only been there a few minutes by her own reckoning. As it must have looked to the prisoners like their captors were cycling in and out immediately on one another’s heels, not to mention that the three from the previous night had been collected right behind Harkley, it surely wouldn’t take them long to figure out the basics of their situation. It hardly mattered; the important thing was that they wouldn’t work any infernal magic while actively under a Bishop’s eyes, and couldn’t do anything at all unless one of the Bishops was present.

What troubled him was how this thing had come to be given to them for their mission. It had been delivered shortly after their arrival in the town, with no explanation beyond a description of its function and directions for its use. Such incredibly advanced enchantment was the kind of toy he’d expect Imperial Intelligence to have in its possession, but everything they carried had been provided by the Church, which historically didn’t work very much with arcane magic. Had Justinian established a group of enchanters or mages under the Church’s aegis? Had they somehow appropriated Imperial property? If so, was it with the Empire’s cooperation? Every question spun off into more questions; the only thing he could be certain of was that the extra-dimensional wardrobe showed the Archpope’s resources to be well beyond what he had imagined.

That, needless to say, was disturbing.

He emerged into the kitchen to find it quieter than when he left. Branwen’s mixing bowl was sitting on the counter, still full of batter with her spoon stuck in, but the stove was cool. Darling frowned, unease tingling at the back of his neck. It was a small break from pattern, but a break nonetheless.

“Everything all right?” he asked, stepping into the living room.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Basra replied. She and Andros were by the front windows, holding up the curtains to peer out. Branwen stood near the kitchen door, wringing her hands; she gave him a tense smile as he entered.

“The town is too quiet,” Andros rumbled. “It’s only just sundown; there should still be people about. The street is deserted.”

Darling frowned, striding across the room to join him. Sure enough, Hamlet appeared to be a ghost town. He half expected an iconic tumbleweed to blow across the road. “You suspect our Wreath friends?”

“Who else?”

“This may be their last gasp,” said Basra thoughtfully. “Given the size of the town and the sheer number of those Tellwyrn took out, there can’t have been many left. Strategically speaking… They sent one to investigate our demon, let a night pass after she turned up missing, then dispatched three with more obviously hostile intentions.” She turned to look at him, frowning. “I’d thought that might be the end of them… If it wasn’t, though, we might be about to see the last, desperate act of whoever’s left.”

“Good,” Andros growled. “I’ll be glad to see the end of this nonsense.”

“How’s our perimeter, Andros?” Darling asked.

“Intact. My wards and traps have not been approached.”

“Mm. Anyone sense any magic at play? Anything that might make the townspeople up and leave?”

“No,” said Basra, “for whatever that’s worth. We’d sense infernal magic, but other branches? Warlocks wouldn’t have access to fae magic, but they’re known to use arcane spells.”

“I don’t sense anything,” Branwen said fretfully. “Even stretching my mind out to its furthest extent. There should be…a buzz, a background noise of people’s desires and passions. There’s nothing. It’s like the townspeople are all asleep.”

“Or gone,” Andros growled.

“Right.” Darling stepped back. “Everybody, gear up. Seems likely something’s about to go down; it’s not going to take us by surprise. Cloaks on, weapons at hand, in position. Andros, you’re on point. Let us know the instant anything gets too close.”

For a wonder, Andros didn’t give him any backtalk about being told to take obvious measures. He and Branwen turned and retreated to their rooms to gather their things; Basra remained on watch until they returned, then she and Darling did the same.

He could feel it in the very air, now. Not something magical, or something tangible, but a tension. A feeling weighing on the back of his neck that this was all finally coming to a head.

He hoped they were ready for it.


 

In the end, they didn’t need Andros’s wards. Their enemy approached openly as the sun fell over the silent town.

Three figures in cowled gray robes stepped up to the front gate of the house and paused. The one in the middle drew back a hand, then hurled it forward as through throwing a ball. At the gesture, the four Bishops felt a spike of diabolic energy and the middle section of the white picket fence exploded into splinters.

“Classy,” Basra snorted.

She stood beside the door; the rest of them were positioned throughout the living room. All four wore their invisibility cloaks—also rare items and proof of the Archpope’s heavy investment in this mission. They watched through the windows as the three attacking Wreath cultists strode forward onto their lawn, and paused again.

Once more there came a huge swelling of infernal energy, though this time the cultists weren’t visibly doing anything but standing there. Immediately, however, the gathering shadows rippled around them like disturbed water, and two additional figures appeared between them.

A serpentine creature wound itself around the cultist on the far left; the length of a python and twice as thick around the chest, its horselike skull contained a flickering green flame that blazed through its open mouth and apparently empty eye sockets, casting an eerie glow along its glossy black scales. Between the middle and right figures, a creature appeared that was the size and roughly the dimensions of a dog. It had enormously burly forelegs like a gorilla, however, and a long snout bristling with teeth, reminiscent of an alligator. With neither fur nor scales—nor apparently skin—along much of its frame, it had preposterously oversized claws on each foot, and spiky plates of bone lining its spine.

Their familiars summoned, the cultists lowered their hoods. Even in the falling light, their features were clearly visible, as were their grimly resolute expressions. Darling couldn’t see his fellow Bishops, but he suspected he wasn’t the only one who reared back in surprise.

They were children.

Well, teenagers, anyway. The boy on the right, the one who rested a hand on the hellhound’s back, couldn’t have been thirteen. On the opposite side was a girl maybe a year or two older, if that, with the taller boy in the center just barely old enough to lie his way into the Army.

Darling held position, though internally he was reeling. Was this the Wreath’s plan? Send someone they’d be reluctant to harm? He had to acknowledge that if that was their game, it was a good one; he wasn’t at all sure he had the stomach to use force against kids that young. What disturbed him more, however, was his certainty that at least one and probably two of his compatriots did.

The three started forward as one, their demons in tow, but stopped just short of the stairs, uncertainty registering on their faces, when Basra silently opened the door. She was still invisible behind her cloak; they stared warily at the suddenly empty space for a moment before the tallest youth, the one in the middle, set his jaw and stepped forward again. Taking his cue, the others came too, visibly re-gathering their courage.

The youngest boy snapped his fingers and pointed at the door; the hellhound let out a hoarse grunt and lunged forward, barreling through.

Basra threw aside her cloak and lashed out with her sword, neatly beheading the demon as it charged past. It plowed into the stairs, already beginning to crumble to ash and let off gouts of sulfurous smoke before it had stopped twitching. The boy who commanded it emitted one short cry of shock.

“Oh, come on,” Basra said, standing in the door and grinning at them. “You’re not even trying.”

The smirk vanished from her face when all three of them pulled out wands and took aim. Basra barely dived out of the line of fire before lightning bolts ripped through the front of the house, blasting the door off its hinges, taking out a chunk of its frame and punching a hole in the staircase.

The serpentine demon—a species Darling didn’t recognize—lunged forward, flying without the benefit of wings, and spat a gout of green fire at her. Basra, cursing, erupted in golden radiance and swiped at the creature with her sword. She was quick and precise, but it spun through the air with unnatural agility, evading every strike. She was forced to retreat through the door to the downstairs bedroom to evade another round of wandfire as the two older kids pushed inside, forcing her back.

Then Andros threw off his cloak. Beneath it, he had a bow ready with arrow nocked; in one smooth motion, he drew back and let fly, and this time it was the Wreath kids who were forced to dive aside. He hadn’t aimed at them, however; the arrow thunked into the lintel above the shattered door, and an eerie blue radiance rose from it. All at once the temperature plummeted in the room. Flakes of actual snow began to appear from the ceiling, flung about by the winds that suddenly sprang up. With the blessing of Shaath suddenly upon the house, its internal weather became a facsimile of that in the frigid Stalrange, contrasting painfully with the heat of the plains. The kids found snow driven into their eyes by winds which whipped their ill-fitting gray robes about as though seeking to tear them right off.

They barely had time to react to this before Andros tossed aside his bow, pulled out a pair of wands, and returned fire. Darling noted with relief that he was aiming to keep them separated and on their toes, not to kill. Even so, every shot blasted a hole in the wooden walls of the house, except those which pulverized furniture instead. Only the frigid winds kept the place from catching fire.

The winds also had the unintended side effect of blowing their invisibility cloaks loose. Darling had the presence of mind to grab at his with both hands and pin its hem to the ground with his feet, but Branwen almost immediately lost hers, winking into view. She wreathed herself in a golden glow, forming a divine shield just in time to absorb a blast from a wand aimed by the youngest boy.

One of Andros’s wandshots clipped the snake demon, sending it careening into the wall with an unnatural screech that grated painfully on the ears. Branwen immediately directed a blast of pure light at it, pinning it against the wall long enough for the Huntsman to level both his wands and unleash a barrage that reduced the creature to ash and that section of wall to kindling.

Meanwhile, the girl finally took aim at the blessed arrow with her own wand, blasting it to oblivion and taking the upper half of the doorframe down with it, causing a section of wall adjacent to the front door to tumble outward, unsupported.

In the sudden absence of howling winds, the house groaned alarmingly.

Darling wasn’t paying attention to this. Still shrouded under his cloak, he was staring at Branwen. For a moment, something had flickered through her golden aura, disturbing it at the moment when it was weakest, when she was directing more power at the snake demon. He glanced around; Basra was still in the other room, apparently the target of the wandshots the tallest boy was firing in that direction, and Andros was in a momentary standoff with the other two. Three warlocks…two demons. There was no way these kids had conjured familiars of that caliber on their own…

He darted over to Branwen, placing a hand on her back and hoping she didn’t jump in startlement. She didn’t react at all, in fact. But then, she had probably sensed his approach.

“Give me ten seconds,” he murmured, “then drop your aura.”

Darling scuttled backward from her, hoping his message was received and accepted; she had the presence of mind not to give away his position by acknowledging it verbally. Sure enough, ten seconds later, she turned to face the two kids in the corner, letting the glow around herself wink out and placing a shield of light between their wands and Andros.

He watched her back intently. A moment…wait for it…could he have been wrong? No, there…the faintest distortion.

Darling lunged forward, reaching out a hand from under his cloak, snatched a heavy pewter candlestick from the mantle. He brought it down with all his strength, apparently into midair; by sheer luck or the favor of Eserion, it was a dead hit. The succubus popped into visibility as the chunk of pewter was slammed down on her skull. Darling threw aside his cloak, dropping the candlestick and reaching out to grab her by the hair as she crumpled. With his other hand, he whipped out his belt knife and drove it into her back, then viciously yanked the blade out sideways, splattering the floorboards with black ichor. The demoness crumpled to the ground, unconscious and bleeding out.

Gods in the sky, a succubus. Not even a warlock would be crazy enough to give teenagers access to a succubus. This was all wrong.

With the younger two distracted, the tall boy was suddenly alone and found himself in the sights of both Andros’s wands. He turned, wide-eyed, raising his own weapon at the Huntsman.

Basra whipped around the corner, commanding his attention again, but before he could swivel his wand back around to aim at her, she closed with him and drove her sword into his belly just below the ribs.

“Andy!” the girl shrieked in anguish. The boy dropped his wand, gaping at Basra, who winked at him, then yanked her weapon free. He crumpled soundlessly.

“Damn it!” Darling swore.

“You didn’t need to do that!” Branwen exclaimed, rushing to the side of the fallen boy. Her shield over the other two winked out, but Andros immediately swiveled both his wands to cover them.

“Drop the weapons,” he snarled. Both kids, tears pouring down their faces, did so.

Meanwhile, Basra was wiping blood from her short sword with a piece of curtain that had been badly scorched by wandshots. Her eyes flicked between Darling and Branwen, narrowing. “I don’t tell you two how to pick pockets or suck dicks. Do not tell me how to end a fight.”

Branwen had placed her hands over the boy’s wound. While light blazed around her, Darling eased over to the other two and collected their wands. Stepping back, he peered critically around the room.

The stairs had been pulverized, the front door was completely gone… Holes had been blasted in all four walls and the ceiling, and most of the furniture was nothing but scraps of kindling and scorched fabric. He winced at the sight of all those books, burned to ash and fragments, their pieces strewn about by Shaath’s winds. The entire front of the room was more open space than wall at this point.

“Something tells me we’re not getting our security deposit back,” he said.

“Still too quiet out there,” Andros grunted, then raised one wand to point directly at the girl’s face. “You. Explain.”

She tore her eyes from the spectacle of Branwen trying to heal her fallen friend. Tears still ran down her face, but the glare she directed at Andros was pure hatred. She answered, however, her voice thick with barely controlled emotion. “It’s a spell. Arcane. The elders set it up long ago in case we needed to…to…” She paused, swallowing down a lump in her throat. “Everyone’s asleep, but they’re fine. They’ll wake up fine. We don’t harm innocents,” she spat.

Andros grunted. “How many more of you?”

“We’re it, moron!” the younger boy said shrilly. “Do you think they’d send kids after you? There’s nobody else left. You killed our parents, you bastard! We called up their familiars and came to—to—to…” He trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut, and choked back a sob. The girl wrapped both her arms around his thin shoulders.

“To what?” Basra asked dryly. “Get revenge? Well done.”

“Enough,” Darling said sharply. Turning to the kids he moderated his tone. “Nobody’s been killed, no thanks to you. Your parents, if that’s who paid us an unannounced visit last night, are fine. They’re about to go to Tiraas, but the good news is you’ll be going too. Branwen, how’s it look?”

She had just let the glow around her fade, and sat back on her heels, looking exhausted. “I’m really not a healer. I think… I think he’s stable. But it’s not a good stable… He’s lost blood, which I can’t do anything about. Might be in shock, too.”

“Right…” Darling looked around again at the destroyed house, the eerily silent street, their beaten and traumatized underage foes. “Well then, not only is our mission accomplished, but I think we’re about to be very unwelcome in this town. Time to be moving along. Andros, Branwen, get these three into the cells. The stasis should keep the lad stable until we can get him to an actual healer. Basra, we’re done with the…thing…in the basement. Be so kind as to kill it.”

“Excellent,” she said, already grinning and fondling her sword lovingly as she shouldered past Andros into the kitchen.

“I’m going to make a break for the scrolltower office, while the town’s asleep,” Darling said, already starting for the door. “We can’t take that wardrobe on the Rails; we’ll need transport out of here as quick as possible. Andros, I don’t anticipate more trouble, but keep everything stable here till I get back.”

The Huntsman nodded to him. Confident this situation was as under control as it could be, Darling exited through the gaping hole roughly where the front door had been and bounded down the steps.

Hamlet was downright creepy like this. The last redness of sunset had faded while they were occupied shooting up the house, but even in the darkness, the town felt dead in a way that no town should. He had an irrational thought that the residents might not be merely asleep, and made a mental note to double check on them—or at least some of them—once his immediate errand was done. Gods knew they’d have time while they waited for a coach to get out here.

It happened faster than he could react.

One instant he was disturbingly alone in the silent town, the next, the moon-cast shadows seemed to blossom all around him, spitting out half a dozen figures. All but one of them wore ash-gray robes.

Darling skidded to a stop, completely encircled. Directly in front of him, a man in a dapper white suit and matching boater hat stepped forward. His face was dark brown, homely, and brightened by an amiable smile.

“Evenin’,” he said lightly, tugging the brim of his hat. “It’s Sweet, isn’t it? I do believe you have something of mine.” That mild-mannered grin widened, and the cultists began to close in. “Well…something of my Lady’s, that is.”

“Ah,” said Darling mildly, glancing around. No gaps to exploit. “Well, you know how it is, one picks things up. What are you missing, exactly?”

“Four members of my cult.” The man’s smile faded into grimness. “And their children.”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

2 -13

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

“How many, approximately?” Trissiny asked very quietly.

“Approximately fifty-one,” Fross replied. “They’re…I’m not sure what they’re doing. Milling around, listening to a big female who’s giving orders.”

On cue, the whole group paused and looked up at the rim of the canyon. Amid all the stamping and shouting, there was indeed one recurring voice which, while deep, might have been feminine. It certainly sounded authoritative.

Trissiny glanced around at her companions; they were a knot of tight, nervous faces. Only Shaeine looked truly calm, but apparently Narisians were trained for that from the cradle. Rising onto her tiptoes to look over their heads—and giving thanks for her height, for once—Trissiny scanned their environs. Nothing ideal jumped out at her, but she did spot something serviceable.

“This way, everyone,” she said, gently pushing between Toby and Ruda to lead the way up the canyon. “Quiet as you can.”

A few yards ahead was a deep alcove in the base of the canyon, protected by an overhang of rock. It was barely out of the midday sun, not deep enough to qualify as a proper cave, but it’d shield them from view if any of those above happened to glance over the edge. Following Trissiny, they filed and and huddled together; Fross descended to Juniper’s shoulder, dimming her glow almost completely.

“What do we do?” Gabriel hissed, his voice verging on panic. “Can we run? Hide in here?”

“We’re sitting ducks down here,” Ruda replied in a similar tone.

“What do you think, Trissiny?” Toby’s tone was deliberately calm. It seemed to ground the others; again, everyone looked expectantly at Trissiny.

“Whatever they’re doing up there, they don’t seem to be leaving.” She kept her tone calm and her voice low; a level-headed commander could do a lot to maintain order among frightened troops, and much as some of them might have resented her taking charge, it seemed to work. “Whether they’re settling in to camp or planning to move along the rim of the canyon to a place to cross, they’re likely to send scouts down here.”

“I think horse legs would have trouble with those cliffs,” Juniper said.

“The way we came in isn’t that far behind, and we don’t know how many other paths up or down there may be. Best to plan on having to engage them. Listen, I think we can take them.”

“Are you off your nut?” Ruda hissed furiously. “I love a good fight as much as the next girl, but we’re talking six to one odds against us!”

“As Professor Tellwyrn pointed out, we heavily outclass most threats, Ruda. That’s why all of us are at her crazy school instead of somewhere else. There was a narrow spot a bit behind us where we can make a stand—”

“You can’t seriously think—”

“Listen to me,” she said urgently, struggling to keep her voice low. Goddess, give her patience; this lack of order and discipline would be the thing that got them killed, if anything did. For a wonder, Ruda shut her mouth, glaring. “Centaurs are more of a raider than a warrior culture. Like all bullies, they’re cowards at heart; once they lose a few fighters without inflicting any losses on us, they’ll back off and avoid us thereafter. If we run, though, they will pursue. This isn’t going to end until we fight them off.”

“What the hell makes you think we can inflict losses without taking any?” Gabriel snapped, barely remembering to keep his voice low. “Or that even if we somehow do it’ll scare them off?”

“I’ve had to study every known culture that practices diabolism in an organized fashion, the tactics of every enemy the Sisters of Avei have fought over millennia, and every group considered a systemic threat to the safety of women. Believe me, my education has covered centaurs.

“Look around at us,” she continued. “Vadrieny, Juniper and Gabriel are incredibly resistant to damage, and two of the three can hit very hard, regardless of their level of martial skill. We can add me to that list as long as I’m calling on Avei’s power. That’s our front line. Ruda’s nimble and has a long reach with that rapier; she makes an ideal backup to cut down any enemies who manage to get through the first four, which is possible, as we’ll have to spread ourselves a bit to cover the canyon even at the narrow spot. Fross provides ranged magic attacks, and she’ll be virtually impossible to hit with any returned fire. Toby can heal injuries on the fly, with Omnu’s blessings, and Shaeine’s magic shield will be perfect to protect us from arrow fire from the rim of the canyon. And Rafe…” she looked over at him for a moment. “…is a Professor of the Unseen University; he’s bound to be good for something.”

“Finally, some proper respect,” he said smugly.

“We can do this,” Trissiny insisted, ignoring him. “Just hold them for a few minutes, inflict a few losses, and make it plain that we are not easy prey.”

They all stared at her for a moment, faces creased in near identical expressions of worry, silently listening to the sounds from up above. Whatever the centaurs were doing, they hadn’t left; the way sound echoed in the canyon, it was impossible to tell what direction they were moving in, but they clearly were staying in the same general vicinity. One by one, the students tore their eyes from Trissiny’s resolute face to glance around at each other.

“We’ll decide as a group,” she said quietly, “but remember, we don’t have time. They’ll start scouting any minute, if scouts aren’t already on the way. There’s no luxury of debate or long thought, here.”

“Fuck it, Shiny Boots here knows her tactics,” said Ruda, nodding to her. “I say we stand and fight.” Trissiny felt a rush of unexpected warmth toward her roommate at the endorsement.

“I’m sorry, but… I don’t want anything to do with any battle,” Teal said softly. “Not if there’s any other way.” Beside her, Shaeine nodded.

“The only unequivocal victory in battle is a battle that is avoided completely,” said the drow. “I doubt we can negotiate with these creatures, but I also cannot believe escape is impossible, given the terrain.”

“Professor Tellwyrn specifically told us to listen to Trissiny in a combat situation!” Fross said, her wings buzzing in agitation, though she was still perched on Juniper’s shoulder. “She knows the most about it, and she has a good plan. We should do that!”

Juniper nodded. “That one guy wasn’t so tough, and we weren’t really using all our resources against him. I’ve never seen organized fighting the way humans do it; we should try that, since Triss has a strategy and everything. Also, I’ve decided I really don’t like centaurs. We should definitely kill some.”

“I can’t support violent action, not when there’s a possibility of avoiding it,” Toby said gravely. “Sorry, Triss.” She nodded to him, keeping her expression even with some effort. His rejection stung especially hard. Even though she knew the reason—Omnu was a god of peace. Even though she also knew why his opinion mattered so much, which made her feel foolish to boot. This was no time to be nursing a crush.

“I hope nobody thinks I’m selfish about this,” said Gabriel, “but I really don’t like that this idea puts me on the front lines. I mean, if centaurs are big diabolists or whatever, I’m guessing they don’t have many clerics, so nothing they’ve got is actually going to hurt me. But let’s face it, I kinda suck at fighting. I feel like this is gonna lead to me being the reason one of you gets hurt. That’s…” He swallowed. “I say we run.”

Everyone turned to look at Professor Rafe. For all that Tellwyrn had insisted he wasn’t in charge or responsible for their safety, he was part of the group, and now was in a position to cast a tie-breaking vote.

“Let it never be said that Professor Rafe retreated from a fight,” he said solemnly. “All things considered, though, I think this is a good time to charge slowly and as quietly as possible in the opposite direction from the enemy. Avelea has a good strategy; we’ll do that if it comes to a scrap. But we’re better off making that plan B and trying to get away from all this horseshit. Fair?”

Trissiny drew in a deep breath slowly, nodding her acknowledgment along with the others. She shoved aside frustration—and a certain amount of hurt—to be dealt with properly in prayer, later. When there was time. For now, she still had to get these people out of danger. And no matter that they were apparently turning down her advice, she still deemed it her responsibility. The Hands of Avei existed to protect those who needed it.

“Right,” she said, briskly but quietly. “Keep the noise to a minimum. Try to hug the canyon wall to make us less visible, and absolutely no divine or infernal magic; diabolists will sense either immediately. That means no transforming, Teal.”

“It’s not actually a transformation so much as…ah.” Teal trailed off under Trissiny’s exasperated stare. “No transforming, got it.”

“I’ll take point. Juniper, bring up the rear, please. Quick and quiet, people. Let’s move.”

She slipped out of their little alcove, having to brush past Gabriel to make the exit, and set off down the edge of the canyon. Walking as close as she could to the wall but not actually sidling against it, and placing each foot as carefully as possible without sacrificing efficiency of movement or literally tiptoeing, she tried to set an example for the others to move by. It was frustrating, though unsurprising, how much noise they made, even though she was the only one in armor. Trissiny reminded herself that nobody else likely had training in operations like this, and the centaurs probably couldn’t hear them anyway over the noise they were making up above.

It was hard to figure exactly what the centaurs were up to, from a tactical standpoint. She considered sending Fross up to look again, but given the group’s decision to choose stealth over combat, decided that using a luminous scout should be kept as a backup plan, something she’d do if the pattern of noise from above changed. It didn’t, which was all the more frustrating because she couldn’t place a meaning on the pattern. They kept galloping past in both directions, as if the centaurs were running willy-nilly back and forth along the ravine’s edge. Were they scouting? The apparently aimless whooping and shouting—she didn’t understand their language but a lot of the noise was clearly just non-verbal yelling—made little sense in that context. There was no military method to it that she could grasp. Just general high-spirited antics? Or perhaps some cultural affair that would only make sense to a centaur? She could sense glimmers of infernal magic here and there, the sort consistent with the presence of warlocks, but none that seemed to be actively in use, so whatever they were up to wasn’t diabolic in nature.

Whatever it was, it seemed to range widely. No matter how quickly the students moved, they didn’t get out of range of the noise. Given their focus on quiet, they were not making great time and hadn’t been moving long, but even so, the fact that they weren’t leaving the centaurs behind grew increasingly alarming. Either they were galloping up and down the whole length of the canyon, or at least a very large stretch of it—again, why?—or the group was moving more or less along with the University group. That this might be coincidence strained credulity, to say the least. Yet, there was nothing to indicate they’d been spotted, just more galloping and whooping.

She looked back, smiling encouragingly at the others, who were looking as tense and drawn as she felt, and apparently not coping with it as well. Not for the first time, Trissiny felt homesick for the Abbey and her sisters-in-training, women who she could trust to know how to behave in a hostile situation. Much as she wanted to trust in her fellow students, she wasn’t at all sure how several of them would react to the pressure. She generally couldn’t predict how the two fae would react to anything at all… Shaeine would keep cool, and probably Toby, but Teal was way out of her comfort zone, and Gabriel…was generally hopeless. To say nothing of Rafe, who didn’t run on any kind of coherent logic.

Her right hand, which she was using to pad along the wall as she went, waved emptily at her next step and she paused, turning back around. She had come to a gap in the wall, which she’d failed to see coming up due to its narrowness; it had looked like nothing more than a crack when approached from the side. She held up a hand to signal the others to stop, studying this. It was very roughly the size and shape of a door in an average human house, though the upper edge was angled crazily and the left side bowed inward. Its edges were as rounded as every other stone in the canyon by exposure to the elements, but something about the regularity of it tugged at her mind.

“It’s out of place,” Rafe whispered, having broken formation to come up beside her. “See? Any time something happens to the rock due to natural geological forces, there are signs of it all around. Fallen rocks, cracks leading into each other. There’s no debris under this, and there are no cracks at all around it. It’s old now, but this was cut. By someone intelligent.”

“Could it be centaurs?” Gabriel asked in a hushed voice from just behind them.

Trissiny shook her head. “Look at the size of it, they couldn’t get through. It’s too short…and possibly too narrow.”

“There’s no animal life anywhere around here,” said Juniper, joining them. “Seems pretty deep, though. Fross?”

The pixie zipped forward and into the opening before Trissiny could warn her not to. Her icy glow illuminated a corridor that, though rough, was unquestionably too squared to have occurred naturally. “There’s…something,” she said, coming back to the entrance. “It’s not arcane or nature magic, and it’s not strong. Hard to identify… It’s like a faded old echo of a spell.”

“Infernal?” asked Teal from behind them.

“I don’t sense anything like that,” Trissiny said, “though it’s a little hard to tell; there are definitely warlocks up above, and that might be throwing me off. Toby?”

“I don’t think so.” He joined the growing cluster around the opening. “No, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing like that in there, at least not within the range of my senses.”

“Okay, so…empty cave, made by people, too small for centaurs to follow us in, no animals or bad juju. Why the fuck are we just standing around instead of getting in there, then?” Ruda demanded.

“Because this is too convenient,” said Gabriel, getting several nods of agreement.

“Convenient or no, I say we take it,” said Trissiny. “We’re not getting any farther away from them. If they’re not following us deliberately, the chances of them noticing us get higher the longer this goes on. We can wait in there till they pass us by, and if they do find where we’ve gone…this gap is very defensible. I think I could hold it by myself, even.”

So saying, she ducked inside, having decided after the last episode that the surest way to get this group to comply with sense was not to offer them an alternative. What she wouldn’t give for a functioning chain of command…

Fross bobbed alongside her, providing ample light that didn’t require Trissiny to call on divine energy. Aside from the fact that it seemed somehow sacrilegious to use the power of the gods given to her to heal the innocent and strike down the wicked as a lamp, Gabriel’s presence in the group complicated the matter further.

The floor ascended gently as they went. Trissiny had to wonder if this was leading toward an exit onto the prairie, in which case they were heading straight for a centaur encounter unless the tunnel was extremely long. It didn’t get quite that far, however. About the time the floor of the tunnel reached the height of the upper edge of its outer door, it abruptly evened off and turned sharply to the right, leading back in the direction from which they’d originally come along the canyon floor. She paused at this point to give the others a chance to regather, noting that Shaeine had lit herself with a silver glow which seemed to be causing Gabriel, who was right in front of her, no distress.

Now, the magical light put off by Fross and Shaeine was their only illumination. Fortunately, this next leg of the corridor wasn’t quite as long. After only a few dozen steps it terminated in an arched doorway, much more evenly cut than the exterior opening, which opened into a much broader chamber. Three steps led down from the door to the ground in here. Trissiny descended carefully, scanning the space for any signs of trouble.

There was none; she had the strong impression that no one and nothing had been here for a very long time, and not just because her boots made significant prints in the otherwise undisturbed layer of dust on the floor. There was a heaviness, a gravitas to the chamber that was something more than just her emotional response to entering a dark, empty space.

“Fross?”

“Yeah?”

“That feeling you mentioned outside, about something vague in here… Is it stronger here?”

“Ohhhh, yeah. You feel it too, now?”

“I think so. Do you think it’s dangerous?”

Fross didn’t answer for a moment, zipping back and forth in the air just above Trissiny’s head. “I don’t…think so. But I’ve got the impression it’s sort of…barely…maybe… Conscious.”

Trissiny nodded slowly. But she neither felt nor saw anything she could interpret as a threat, and stepped aside to let the others gather in the chamber.

The impressiveness of its size was partly an illusion due to the cramped tunnel through which they’d reached it. All in all, the space was smaller than the chapel back at the University; high by the standards of an average house, but she could have reached the ceiling by extending one arm overhead and hopping unenthusiastically. It was maybe fifteen feet wide and a little more than twice that in length, with the doorway standing on one of the short sides. Small enough that their relatively modest light sources touched the far wall and their group made the near end seem rather crowded once they’d all pushed inside.

Along every visible inch of the walls were crude paintings of the sort that supposedly adorned lizardfolk caves, though these walls were perfectly square-cut. Done in dull colors, mostly reds and blues, with brown and black lines, they seemed to depict scenes of battle, with figures mostly on horseback but sometimes afoot brandishing a variety of weapons. The lower parts of them weren’t completely visible, due to an assortment of actual weapons lining the walls along the floor. Axes and swords were present, but the most commonly represented were spears, some decorated near the head with brightly colored feathers, now faded and scraggly with age. Bows and bundles of arrows were also present in abundance. Most of these were stored in large clay jars decorated with more paintings similar to those on the walls, but quite a few were also stacked in baskets, or on wooden racks. The jars and racks were mostly intact and the weapons generally in decent (if long-neglected) shape, but some of the baskets had broken apart to dump their contents onto the floor, and in several places arrows were scattered in heaps where the thongs holding together them had broken.

Occupying pride of place in the chamber, however, was a huge oblong slab of stone, apparently of a piece with the floor, having been carved out of the living rock. A precise line ran all the way around it where the upper piece, about a foot thick, was apparently detachable, resting on top. It was set far back enough that they had room to gather near the steps, and of roughly the same proportions as the long chamber itself. Though devoid of any decoration, either carved or painted, it was unquestionably a sarcophagus.

“Whoah,” Teal said softly.

“This place should be treated with respect,” said Shaeine, echoing what they all felt.

“It couldn’t be…” Professor Rafe shouldered past the group, frowning with uncharacteristic intensity at the wall paintings. “Could it? I think… Surely not, it’s not possible. But…” Picking his way carefully around jars and over piles of arrows, he followed along one side of the room, scanning the wall paintings as if reading a story, though there were no words in any language. “It might be… I don’t believe it. It really… I think…” He came back toward them, still carefully watching the paintings as though they might have changed in the last few seconds, his expression one of growing awe. “My gods, I do believe it is!”

“I think he’s trying to communicate,” said Gabriel

“Guys!” Rafe turned to face them directly, his face practically shining with joy. “I think this is the tomb of Horsebutt the Enemy!”

Gabriel sighed. “Nevermind.”

“Wait…are you serious?” Teal stepped down from the doorway, frowning at the walls. “How can you possibly tell that?”

“Look at the pictograms! See, there’s no actual writing, but these look exactly like Stalweiss tomb decorations, which, come on, how many Eastern barbarians would be buried in the Golden Sea?”

“But…really?” Teal began slowly retracing Rafe’s steps, frowing intently at the paintings. “It’s obviously a battle… But the Horsebutt? What are the odds?”

“Wait, what?” Gabriel said sharply.

“Like I said, who else?”

“It does seem to strain the bounds of coincidence,” Trissiny said frowning. “At the same time, the Sea moves unpredictably, but not necessarily randomly. If our steps are being guided toward some purpose… Perhaps. And Rafe is right, they do look like early Shaathist battle paintings. No one touch the walls; if they’re done in the traditional ash pigments they could be very fragile.”

“I almost can’t believe it!” Rafe spun dizzily in a circle, grinning madly at every inch of the tomb. “Arachne would chew her foot off with envy! Horsebutt’s tomb!”

“Are you guys pranking me?” Gabriel demanded shrilly. “Because this is not the time!”

Trissiny frowned at him. “Have you seriously never heard of Horsebutt the Enemy?”

“Stop saying that! It can’t possibly be a name!”

“I haven’t either,” Toby said more quietly.

“Um, you guys went to an Imperial public school, right?” Teal said hesitantly.

Gabriel scowled at her. “What of it?”

“It’s just that… Horsebutt’s campaign against the Empire was basically the last act of the Enchanter Wars. That whole business has been covered up and changed in retrospect by so many different factions that even the historians aren’t exactly sure what happened…”

“I guess you haven’t gotten to that in Arachne’s class yet,” Rafe said absently, still ogling the tomb paintings avidly. “She was ass-deep in the whole thing.”

“…yeah, well, anyway, nobody came out of it looking good, and the Tiraan Empire ended up looking worse than most. In fact, by most accounts the Empire itself was nearly broken. I’ve heard some versions where it was overthrown, and then got pieced back together after the fact. Point being, most official Imperial sources hush it all up pretty hard.”

“I’d hush it up too if I got my ass kicked by somebody named Horsebutt,” Gabriel scoffed.

“If it helps you,” Teal said, grinning, “his name in the original language was Heshenaad.”

“Yes. That helps. Let’s please say that from now on.”

“Yeah, especially considering we’re maybe standing in the guy’s fucking tomb, and our resident pixie wizard thinks there’s some kind of mojo still working here,” Ruda said sharply. “Might not hurt if everybody showed a little goddamn respect.”

There was a momentary silence while they considered that.

Teal cleared her throat. “Anyhow… Heshenaad was actually an honor name given to him when he distinguished himself in battle. The Stalweiss, uh, have different ideas about respect than we do.”

“Boy, that’s for damn sure,” said Rafe, turning back toward them and grinning. “Just because the Easterners decide you’re hot shit doesn’t mean you can go around calling yourself by whatever honor name they give you. Arachne’s practically a demigod over there and you should hear what they call her. Teal, don’t wander off!”

“There’s no off to wander to!” Teal protested, picking her way carefully toward the shadowed back of the tomb. “I just wanna look at the paintings…” Her voice trailed off as she rounded the end of the sarcophagus, gazing up raptly at the walls. Shaeine went after her, carefully holding up the hem of her robe out of the arrow piles and taking her silver glow along, leaving Fross’s light the only illumination for the rest of them.

“Wait, what do they call Professor Tellwyrn?” Ruda asked, grinning.

Rafe winced. “Um… I don’t remember. Ask Chase when we get home, he loves to share embarrassing stories.”

“Anyway,” Trissiny said firmly, “Horsebutt—”

“Heshenaad!”

“—the Enemy was a barbarian cavalry leader who pillaged his way across Imperial territory from the Stalrange to the Golden Sea, where he effectively trapped himself. Indirectly he’s responsible for reuniting the fragments of the Empire, giving the factions a common enemy and a reason to rally together again under the restored Emperor. Some historians think he might have been manipulated into his campaign for exactly that reason. He actually survived within the Sea itself for almost ten years, which made him a severe threat, as no one knew where he’d strike. Even he didn’t; his raiders would just come out of the Sea at whatever random point it spat them out, then vanish back into it. He’s the reason the Empire has such a solid military infrastructure around the frontier, even now.”

“Hm,” said Toby thoughtfully. “Sounds like he did the Empire quite a few favors, then, however unintentionally.”

Trissiny nodded. “That’s why he’s remembered as the Enemy. At the time he lived, an enemy was exactly what the Empire needed, something to band together against. If not for him… The continent might be a patchwork of kingdoms again, like in the Age of Adventures. No Empire, no Church, likely no Rail or telescroll networks even if humanity still had the chance to develop those enchantments…”

“How’d he die?” Gabriel asked, looking interested in spite of himself.

“Nobody knows.” She shook her head. “He was always guaranteed to lose what had become a war of attrition. His forces took losses with every raid, with no way to get reinforcements from the Stalrange, and their successful attacks grew fewer and farther between as the Empire moved more resources to the frontier, at the same time it was developing better weapons. That was about the time the earliest battlestaves and wands were used by the Imperial Army. He was also doubtless losing forces to centaurs and whatever else lives in the Sea… Some thought he must have a fortress out here, but since his tomb is in a ravine in the middle of nowhere, it seems more likely they were just living nomadically, like the centaurs and plains elves. A decade after his horde made it to the Sea, their attacks just…trailed off. Eventually it was assumed that he’d died, but no one ever learned how.” She turned slowly in place, looking around at the tomb. “People have been hunting for his tomb for all the usual reasons. Everyone figured a great raider would be buried with fabulous riches or something. All I see are weapons, though…”

“Yeah, riches,” said Ruda firmly. “He was laid to rest with what his culture considered important. The things that matter to a warrior. All this stuff would have been sacred to the Stalweiss, therefore nobody is fucking touching a thing. You don’t fuck around with a great man’s resting place.”

Though there was enough airflow from the open door that the air in the tomb didn’t seem poisonous or even very stale, it had been dead still the whole time they were present, only the tiny breeze of their passing stirring the dust on the floor. As she spoke, however, there came a short, faint gust of wind, ruffling Ruda’s coat and blowing back the few strands of her hair that had come loose from her braid. Her eyes widened slightly; the others shifted away from her.

“I think he likes you,” Fross noted.

Rafe cleared his throat. “Ah, yeah, anyway, everybody get a good look; who knows when anyone will see this place again, if ever. But yes, let’s be respectful. The last thing we need on top of our other problems is to incur the Curse of Horsebutt.”

“Why is this my life?” Gabriel asked of the ceiling.

“What Ruda and Trissiny said goes. Don’t touch the paintings, don’t take any souvenirs. In fact, just don’t mess with the weaponry at all. Meanwhile, we’ve got more immediate problems.” Rafe cut his eyes toward the now-dark opening to the passage beyond. “With apologies to our host, we’re gonna have to park it here for a little while. Somebody can scout down near the door and keep an ear out; we better not try to leave until our friends up there have moved on, and there’s no telling how long that’ll take.”

“It better not be too long,” Gabriel muttered. “That whole ‘respect’ thing is gonna get a hell of a lot harder as soon as somebody needs to take a piss.”

“Good gods, don’t even joke,” Rafe groaned. “We’ll…figure something out. Somebody can check the canyon, see if there’s a convenient…uh, spot…near the entrance. Whatever happens, we’re staying the hell put until it’s safe. If it comes down to it, I’d rather stay out here with Heshenaad than go back and explain to Taath K’varr how I got you lot killed.”

“Wait, what?” Coming back around the sarcophagus the other way, Teal stopped suddenly and frowned at him, apparently having caught only the last part of that. “Who’s a golden bitch?”

There was one beat of silence, and then Ruda collapsed onto the steps, howling with laughter.

“Great,” Rafe said dourly. “You wanna put a cork in it, Punaji? That’s probably echoing all the way to the—”

He cut off, and so did she, as a heavy thudding began all around them. They all jerked to attention, staring wide-eyed at each other. The noise was relatively faint, as though heard from a distance or through a thick barrier, but seemed to resonate unnaturally in the very air around them. It seemed to be coming mostly from the ceiling, to judge by the tiny streams of dust that fell with each pound, but echoed sharply from the tunnel.

“Is that who I think it is?” Teal asked wanly.

“Centaur war drums,” said Trissiny, unconsciously gripping her sword.

Gabriel gulped. “Please tell me they’re having a square dance.”

“War drums, Gabe,” she said tersely. “Those are magical. They’re a weapon; they only use them in the presence of enemies.”

“Then…” Toby trailed off, staring at her.

She nodded. “Either they’ve found somebody to fight up there… Or they know we’re here.”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

2 – 12

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

“Why can’t they just look like the illustrations in the book?” Trissiny complained.

“I guess the plants just don’t feel a need to conform to your expectations,” Toby said, smiling. “Maybe Juniper could carry a complaint to Naiya for you?”

“Actually, that would be a really bad idea,” Juniper called from a few yards away. “She doesn’t have a lot of patience for complainers.”

Trissiny just grumbled, staring at the sad little cluster of leaves in her hand, wondering whether to pick it and add it to her collection. “I can’t tell if this is a twisted, undernourished specimen or just…not a versithorae.”

“Rafe did say those wouldn’t be as common,” Gabriel said, craning his neck around Toby to peer at her. “I mean, look how thick the brush is around here. Stands to reason there’s been no burning for a while. Versithorae like ash.”

With a sigh, Trissiny plucked the scraggly little plant and pressed it into the small book Rafe had issued for the purpose. “Well, whatever, I’m counting it. If I’m wrong, the worst thing that’ll happen is I get a poor grade in herbalism. I’ve yet to hear someone explain why I should care about that.”

Gabriel laughed; she ignored him, turning toward another clump of brush in search of the next item on her list.

The Sea had dropped an interesting geographical feature into their path, and Rafe had not hesitated to make homework of it. A crater, deep but sloping gently due to its considerable width, was set in the floor of the prairie, its lip surrounded by a rim of thick trees that made it look like a patch of jungle when approached from the outside. Within, however, the broad bowl was filled with bushes and lush grasses, around a small, almost perfectly circular lake in the center. After having seen nothing but miles and miles of amber tallgrass, the various shades of green were a relief for the senses.

They had paused to enjoy the little oasis, but Rafe had also set them to collecting and identifying plant samples, as he had at the last such feature they’d encountered, which was a near perfect opposite of this one: a steep, rounded hill rising out of the prairie, covered with towering trees. Two days after their brush with the centaur at the hot springs, they had seen no other signs of intelligent life, and were beginning to relax a little.

Everyone remained in sight of each other, though it wasn’t hard; the underbrush wasn’t as tall as the tallgrass, and the sloping geography of the crater made everything visible from any point within. They’d wandered off into smaller groups, though. Only Rafe was by himself, apparently asleep on the shore of the lake. Teal and Shaeine were prowling up near the lip of the crater, where the shade of the trees was more comfortable for the drow. Ruda was making methodical progress through a swath of brush with her list in hand, Fross buzzing about her head to help spot plants, and Juniper ranging widely around them—and doing more goofing off than work, or at least so it appeared to the others. Much like her performance their first day in the University’s greenhouse, she seemed delighted to meet every plant she came across, and determined to introduce herself to each of them. The last group was mostly quiet and somewhat more tense. Trissiny and Gabriel had both gravitated toward Toby, but were little inclined to talk to each other.

Trissiny knelt to rummage beneath a bush, looking for the shade-loving ground cover plants near the bottom of her list. Behind her, Toby nudged Gabriel with an elbow, then jerked his head significantly in her direction. Gabe grimaced, shaking his head emphatically; Toby bopped him gently on the forehead. With a sigh, the half-demon took a hesitant step toward her, squaring his shoulders as if about to march into a dragon’s den.

“So,” he said with forced lightness, “I keep forgetting to mention it, Trissiny, but I think we know one of your relatives.”

“What?!” She shot upright and spun so abruptly that Gabe staggered backward, raising his hands to ward her off. Her expression was a blend of shock and disbelief.

“I…uh…I… A teacher!” he stammered, still backpedaling. “At our school, growing up… There was a Ms. Avelea who taught history. I liked her a lot better than Tellwyrn.”

“Oh.” Trissiny relaxed, then, disconcertingly, chuckled. “Oh. You startled me for a moment.”

“I, um, noticed. Sorry? I…think I’ve missed something.”

She shook her head, still smiling ruefully. “Avelea is the surname given to orphans raised by the Sisters of Avei. So, in a sense… Yes, your teacher would be my sister, as we all are. I doubt I’ve met her, though. Hardly any of us with the name share even a drop of blood.”

“Oh,” he said, then grimaced. “So that… Oh. So when I talked about your relatives out of nowhere, that probably sounded like…”

“Like more of what I generally expect from you,” she replied, turning back to the bush.

“Um…sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“No harm done.” Trissiny spoke without turning around, her voice somewhat muffled by the foliage. “Or meant, I’m sure.”

“I wouldn’t have deliberately pushed a button like that,” he said, sounding lame even to himself. “I was just…trying to be friendly.”

“Okay.”

Gabriel sighed again, staring at her back. He turned to face Toby, shrugging. Toby rolled his eyes and made a shooing gesture in Trissiny’s direction, getting another emphatic headshake in reply.

“Guys?” Juniper eased up out of a nearby stand of broad-leafed grass in which she’d been crouching. Her voice was pitched lower than usual. “Trissiny? Stand up slowly and come over here.”

“Why? What’s up?”

“You’re being stalked. I’m gonna try to put myself between—”

She spun mid-sentence and leaped to one side as an enormous shape exploded out of a nearby copse of bushes, lunging at Gabriel. Juniper collided with it in midair; she brought a hand down on the animal’s head, eliciting a howl of protest, and they both crashed to the ground, immediately springing apart.

It was a cat, that much was obvious, though the thing was the size of a horse. Its tawny coat made for poor camouflage in the green crater, but would have suited it ideally out among the tallgrass of the prairie. Most alarmingly, it had two colossal fangs protruding from its upper mouth, each the length of a human forearm. The cat rolled to its feet immediately, glaring at Juniper, but did not lunge at her again, even though she was slower to regain her balance. With the two of them standing so close together, it seemed absurd that her weight could have been enough to slow the creature, much less knock it down.

Toby and Trissiny both burst alight, golden radiance flaring up around them, and sending Gabriel staggering away, retching in pain. Trissiny drew her blade, but didn’t even have time to step around Juniper to face the cat.

Vadrieny landed beside them with a thump, having hit the ground hard from a steep dive. The great cat whirled to face her, but the demon extended her burning wings to their full extent, flexed her talons, and screamed.

Gabriel and Juniper both backed away, clutching at their ears in pain; only the two paladins seemed protected. The sound was abominable, a protracted shriek somewhat like the cry of a hawk, but filled with an impossible fury that clawed at the brain, and with a shrill resonance like nails on a blackboard.

The cat flattened its ears back against its skull, dropping to the ground. It stared at Vadrieny for a bare few seconds before turning and bounding away with a howl of protest. Within moments, it had ascended to the rim of trees and vanished beyond the crater.

It took the sudden silence following the demon’s cry for them to realize just how noisy the crater had been, before. Insects, birds and frogs from the lake had all filled the air with the sounds of life; now, dead silence descended, broken only by the faint voice of the wind. And then by Gabriel.

“What the hell was that?!”

“Smilodon,” said Ruda, having just made it there. Her sword was out, but she was simply staring after the departing animal, letting the blade trail among the grass. “Damn… Never thought I’d see something like that. We got a skeleton of one back home, but they’re supposed to be extinct.”

“Like centaurs,” said Trissiny.

“Triss, would you mind awfully turning down the glow a bit?” Gabriel asked. He was standing a good fifteen feet from her, but still wincing at the light she was putting off. Toby had extinguished his as soon as the cat had departed. She turned her head to regard him silently for a moment, but then allowed the light to wink out. “Thanks.”

“There’s lots of supposedly extinct stuff still bopping around in the Golden Sea,” Professor Rafe said brightly, arriving along with Shaeine. “The thing I wonder about is what it was doing in here! Do you guys see any prey animals? Cos I sure don’t.”

“Oh, it probably just came to drink,” said Juniper. “I don’t guess there are a lot of sources of fresh water out there. Actually…it is sort of puzzling how a predator that size lives in the Sea. Aside from those bison, we haven’t seen a lot of animals big enough to support him.”

“Maybe the Sea takes them where they need to go,” Gabe suggested. “And on the subject of going, I’m of the opinion that the charm has gone out of this place.”

“Oh, please, you heard the tree lady,” Ruda said, grinning. “The big kitty’s gone, probably a hundred miles away on a Sea shift by now. We’re safer here.”

“Nonsense! We move on!” Rafe declared, pointing dramatically at the rim of the crater. “Everybody pack up your samples and lace up your boots, we’ve tarried plenty long enough! We’ve been going mostly uphill, deeper into the Sea, and not getting much action except for the odd bit of pretty scenery. From now on, we travel…SIDEWAYS!”

With this declaration, he marched off, heading for the edge of the crater. After exchanging a round of significant glances, the students began trailing after him.

“Was that more joking?” Fross asked uncertainly. “Because I’m not wearing boots.”

“For purposes of this discussion, sure, it was joking,” Ruda said. “But don’t repeat any jokes you hear from Rafe, they’ll just make you sound like a fucking idiot. Gods know they do him.”

“I was starting to figure that part out anyway, but thank you.”

“Now that you brought it up, I’m really curious about how something that size makes a living out here,” Gabriel mused as they walked. “It could probably bring down a bison pretty easily, but they travel in big groups.”

“We brought one down easy enough,” said Ruda.

“Um, no, ‘we’ didn’t,” Fross corrected. “Juniper did. And no animal would attack a dryad unless it was mentally damaged. You saw how even the smilodon didn’t jump after her even after she hit it.”

“Maybe we’re just a rare delicacy, then,” Gabriel said lightly. “I wonder what human tastes like.”

“It might be best,” Trissiny said without turning around to look at him, “if you in particular didn’t wonder about things like that out loud.”

“A lot like pig,” said Juniper, who was in the lead of the group. “Or…I guess you’d call it pork when you’re eating it. Which is really funny when you think about it! There’s, like, no resemblance at all. Maybe humans and pigs evolved from the same kind of animal?”

She continued blithely on in Professor Rafe’s tracks, apparently unaware that the entire group had come to a stop and were staring at her back.

“Wait, so… How does she know what humans taste like?”

Ruda sighed. “Welcome to the conversation, Fross.”

“Thanks! I’m still confused, though.”

“You’re probably better off.”


Some time after noon, they encountered other travelers for the first time.

Rafe, walking in the head of the group as usual, was the first to spot them. Trissiny, following his pointing finger, discerned them immediately, but it was some minutes before the others could make anything out beyond a faint smudge of dust thrown into the air. Two covered wagons, pulled by oxen, were on the way directly toward them, heading downhill and thus to the edge of the Sea. Moving east as they were, the students could likely have avoided the other party entirely by continuing on their way, but by consensus everyone stopped to meet the others. Aside from the fact that they were supposed to be having encounters with denizens of the Golden Sea, the alternative of traipsing along through endless tallgrass was just plain boring.

They had plenty of time to arrange themselves and watch the others approach. The occupants of the second wagon were hidden by the first, but those driving the lead wagon were visible: a man and a woman, both human, and both dressed in typical frontier style, in denim trousers and plain buttoned shirts. He was blonde and fair, as was pretty common among frontier towns, with a ten-gallon hat shielding him from the sun; she was dark-haired and had a swarthy Tiraan complexion. Both carried staves, which they raised and aimed at the students when they drew close.

Trissiny and Toby both glowed subtly, probably not enough to be noticeable in the sunlight, but ready to throw up divine shields at need. Standing just behind them, Shaeine drew on her own power, a silver luminescence rising around her hands, which were folded behind her back.

The wagons rumbled to a halt, their occupants surveying the nine of them warily. Toby cleared his throat, opening his mouth to speak.

“BEHOLD!” Rafe bellowed, grinning maniacally and throwing his arms wide. Toby sighed.

“Yeah, we see you,” said the woman, shifting her staff to aim at him in particular. “Weren’t expecting to meet any other adventurers, specially not on foot at this time of day. The sun’s not—holy fuck, is that a drow?”

Toby cleared his throat. “We don’t mean you any harm. I don’t begrudge you holding weapons, this being dangerous territory and all, but would you mind not pointing them at my friends?”

“I mind a little,” said the man. His expression remained cold, and his staff remained aimed at Trissiny, who he had clearly decided was the most obvious threat. “I see you’ve got a Sister along, which is a little reassuring. Fact remains, though, it’s been years since there was loot in any quantity to be found in the Sea. Most reliable way to strike it rich out here is to rob somebody else who’s already done the heavy digging. It ain’t wise for us to be too friendly toward strangers.”

“Ooh, you looted something good? Nice!” Ruda grinned widely. “What’d ya get?”

Both of them shifted, aiming their staves at her. “Don’t see how it’s any of your business,” the man said grimly.

“If I may?” Gabriel stepped forward. “We don’t want or need your loot. We are on a glorious quest to wander around the prairie like idiots for an indeterminate amount of time until this head case over here decides we can go home.” He jerked a thumb at Rafe, who grinned delightedly.

The pair eyed him, then glanced at each other. The woman, though, relaxed and raised her staff to point at the sky. “Ah, I see. Kids from Tellwyrn’s University, then?”

“I’m a little troubled by how obvious that apparently is,” said Teal.

“That’s another matter,” said the man, also lifting his weapon. “Sorry for the rude welcome. Can’t be too careful out here.”

“No harm done,” Toby said, smiling. “It’s a good idea to be cautious, especially in a place like this. Have you run into much trouble?”

“Not of the kind that’s likely to be roaming around makin’ a pest of itself,” the man replied, then leaned over to spit to the side. “We did come across some ruins down in a canyon… Full o’ monsters, but a fairly decent haul for the effort. You’ll forgive me if I don’t give you directions.”

“Of course,” Toby replied equably. “It wouldn’t do us much good anyway; I doubt the way there still exists. Or if it does, it leads somewhere else by now.”

“True enough.”

“I should warn you that there are centaurs on the move,” he went on more seriously. “The Golden Sea being what it is, there’s no telling how close they might be. But we’ve encountered a lone scout, which we killed, and met an elf who said there’s an entire group of as many as sixty still in this general region. If…we’re still in that general region. It’s hard to say.”

The man and woman exchanged a long, serious look.

“That’s troubling news,” she said slowly. “The Sea doesn’t commonly shift you by a huge amount at one time…except that sometimes it does, but if you’ve seen something, it’s likely to stay in your general area until you do some serious walking. When was this?”

“Two days ago.”

“We appreciate the warning,” said the man, tipping his hat to them. “Not much to be done about it except keep our eyes out and weapons up, but…forewarned is forearmed, as they say.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I wouldn’t want anybody to wander into them by mistake.”

“You’ll pardon us if we don’t hang around to chat, but with this news especially, we’re eager to get outta the Sea and back to somewhere we can start spending our haul.”

“Of course,” Toby said again. “Thanks for talking with us.”

“Mm,” the man said noncommittally, and flicked his reins. He tugged the brim of his hat again as the oxen started moving. “Y’all take care.”

They stood aside to let the tiny wagon train pass. Driving the second cart was a blonde man with subtly pointed ears, doubtless a half-elf, with a much scruffier man beside him, both also holding staves. They nodded to the students in passing, but didn’t offer a word of greeting.

“So,” Ruda said thoughtfully, “ruins. Wonder what our odds are of finding those?”

“Dismal,” said Rafe cheerily. “But worry not, my little chickens! It’s the Golden Sea, after all. We’re sure to find something rewardingly deadly, if we only persevere and have faith!”

“Seriously,” said Gabe. “Is there a medical term for what’s wrong with you?”

“It’s called genius, y’little hellbug. All right, that’s enough lollygaggin’. ONWARD TO FUCKING GLORY!”


Given the lack of general interest in the Sea’s terrain—amber waves of grain were scenic and all, but got old quickly when there was nothing else to see—when the students found anything interesting, they made a beeline for it. Thus, when a canyon opened up before them, the group headed into it without a second thought. It began as a little dip in the level of the plain, but the tallgrass quickly faded away, yielding to gravel and dusty rock, with increasingly tall stone walls to either side.

“And what happens if there’s not a convenient exit at the other end of this?” Gabriel asked, after they had hiked deep enough into the ravine that the entrance was no longer visible behind them.

“Then we backtrack!” Rafe said cheerfully. “Anyhow, these things often have side branches, so don’t assume the exit’s in a straight line ahead. Besides, odds are good we’ll find something cool! Most of the interesting stuff in the Sea is attached to some anomaly in the geography. Once in a while you do find things just sitting around on the prairie, but odds are much better within the hills and canyons and whatnot.”

“That guy on the wagon said they found ruins and treasure in a canyon,” Ruda commented, gesticulating vaguely with a half-consumed bottle of whiskey. “Think this might be it?”

“Not likely,” said Toby. “He also said that canyon was full of monsters.”

“I don’t think we’ve gone deep enough into this one yet to determine what it might be full of,” Trissiny said grimly. “In hindsight, I wish I’d thought to ask him exactly what kind of ‘monsters’ they were.”

Teal stopped short, raising her head. “Something…does anyone else hear that?”

“What?” Rafe paused, looking back at her. “I don’t, and my hearing is exceptional.”

“Hoofbeats,” Shaeine said tersely.

The others glanced at one another, but before anybody could voice a question, the sound grew loud enough to be audible to everyone. Nervously, the group pulled together and by silent consensus pressed themselves against the canyon wall. Above, the noise grew until it was obviously right above them.

“Could be bison,” Gabriel said. “Or wild horses. Unicorns…”

A long, whooping shout echoed from above, followed by answering yells in a language none of them understood. The steady drum of hooves all moving in unison changed tempo, fading into the more chaotic noise of creatures stomping about in one place.

“With riders?” Gabe suggested weakly.

“Fross,” Trissiny said very quietly, “would you mind having a look?”

The pixie didn’t reply verbally, but zipped straight upward to the rim of the canyon. Her glow, already hard to spot in the bright sunlight, dimmed further. Seconds later, she shot back down to rejoin them. Nobody was surprised when she said exactly what they did not want to hear.

“Centaurs.”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

2 – 8

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

Ruda yawned hugely as she descended the rocky incline to the plain below. The chilly gray of predawn lingered in the sheltered area she was headed for, where the rocky outcropping cast a long shadow; everywhere else, the endless expanse of tallgrass blazed red and gold with the sunrise. She’d paused to admire this briefly, but Zaruda Punaji had seen her share of sunrises. What was going on below was far more interesting.

Yawning again, she flopped down on a low, flat lump of stone next to Shaeine and watched Trissiny and Teal exercising on the area of flattened grass they’d already created with their exertions. The paladin was dressed but not armored or armed—her gear sat nearby—and she looked as alert and energetic as if she’d just spent an uninterrupted night in a luxurious feather bed. Ruda didn’t know how the hell that girl always looked in top shape, but it was maddening. Teal was no longer visibly groggy, as they’d been at it for a good ten minutes already, but her movements were stiff and showed weariness.

They weren’t actually sparring, but drilling. Punches, first with one hand then the other; from the shoulder, from the waist, overhand, underhand. Twenty repetitions of each while Trissiny called out a cadence and corrected the other girl’s form.

“I dunno how the hell you can stand that,” Ruda said when the paladin called a rest and Teal flexed her spine, grimacing. “The same damn thing over and over. That’s not fighting, it’s homework.”

“You repeat motions until your body knows them,” Trissiny said, her voice thick with patience that made Ruda want to club her. “Till you don’t have to think about every move you make in a fight, because a real fight won’t give you the luxury. The point of the homework is to get them down perfectly, so that when they’re needed, they will be perfect.”

“Bah. You want to learn to fight, you go out and fucking fight. You can talk about form and stance and technique till you pass out, but when it comes down to it, what matters is that you have the will to fuck somebody up.” She removed her hat, dropping it next to Trissiny’s armor, and grinned. “People who’ve never been in an actual scrap don’t realize just how big a deal that is. A person who’s right in the head doesn’t want to inflict pain. You’re drilling to fight right, when the truth is that fighting well means being just a little bit…wrong.”

“I think it’s interesting that Professor Ezzaniel’s never had us spar with each other,” Trissiny replied coolly. “Don’t you?”

“I always thought that was a pretty good idea,” Teal commented, slightly out of breath.

“Why,” Ruda drawled, “you afraid of learning there’s a pirate-shaped hole in our fancy-ass technique?”

“If you’ll recall,” the paladin replied evenly, “we tested this once. Or rather, you did.”

Ruda was on her feet before she decided to be. “Are you saying you want a rematch?”

“Ladies,” Shaeine said firmly, “let’s please be civil.”

“I agree,” Trissiny said, nodding at her. “We’re just here to practice. If you don’t mind learning some pure technique, Zaruda, you’d be welcome to join us.”

“Do I fucking look like I need your help?”

“Yes.”

She bounded off the rock and stomped over to stand inches from Trissiny. Immediately she regretted this decision; the other girl was a head taller, and Ruda had to crane her neck to make eye contact. The hell she was going to back down, though. “Where I come from, that’s a challenge.”

“Yes, it is a challenge,” Trissiny replied, still insufferably calm. “I’m not interested in a real battle with you, Ruda, because that would be unfair even if we were unquestionably equal in skill. I have powers at my command that you just can’t contend with. But again, we are here to practice. If you’re willing, I’d like to see what you can show me.”

Ruda took the excuse of thrusting a finger into her face to step back. “No magic, no weapons.”

“Agreed.”

She unbuckled her whole belt and threw it to one side, rapier and all, and instantly lunged forward, driving a fist at Trissiny’s midsection.

Trissiny spun to one side, slapping her arm away and sending Ruda stumbling past her. She wheeled around, lashing out again and following up with a flurry of punches; the taller girl ducked and dodged, deflecting blows with precise little motions when evasion wasn’t possible. It took only a scant few moments of this before Ruda could positively taste the rage on the back of her tongue.

“Fucking fight back, you bitch!” she screamed, swinging a wild haymaker at the paladin’s jaw.

Trissiny grabbed her wrist, then her upper arm with the other hand, and flipped her neatly overhead. Ruda slammed into the ground on her back, hard enough that she saw spots and momentarily lost the ability to breathe. When her senses swam back into focus, the first thing she became aware of was Trissiny’s foot on her neck.

It was withdrawn immediately, but as far as Ruda was concerned, the damage was done.

She lay there, gasping, and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back tears and a sob of pure, undiluted frustration. The hell she was going to show that kind of weakness here.

“You’re sloppy,” Trissiny said inexorably. “You let anger drive your movements, which makes you predictable. You have little fine control or even awareness of your body.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed. All of this she’d heard from Ezzaniel.

Trissiny just sat down in the grass beside her. “And not one of those things is a fault of yours,” she said. Ruda kept her eyes closed, recovering her breath as the paladin continued. “You’ve got bad habits, that’s all. You’re clearly an experienced fighter, Ruda. That ferocity you were talking about is there; if you’d just practice, solidify the technique, you’d be an absolute terror.” She sighed. “And I’d really like to work with you on it, but I feel like you take it as an insult that I know something you don’t.”

“I take it as an insult,” Ruda growled, “that you think you’re better than me.”

“I’m better at something than you, which is a whole different thing. Once when I was fed up with being smacked around by the older girls training me, I asked my instructor how long it would take before I’d be considered a master. She laughed at me, and said a master is whoever’s been working at it long enough to have failed more times than you’ve tried.”

A long silence stretched out, and Ruda eventually opened her eyes. Trissiny was watching her face.

“It seems to me we each know some things the other doesn’t,” she said gently. “We’re students. It’s not a contest. I’m willing to teach you, Ruda, and I don’t think it’d make me weaker to learn from you. If anything, it would make us both stronger.”

Ruda groaned and threw an arm over her eyes. “There you go, doing that paladin thing again. How do you just pull wisdom out of your ass like that?”

“Because a lot of women who know more about the world than I ever will spent a lot of time stuffing it up there. I’ve got quite a backlog at this point.”

“Well, that was a mental image I didn’t fucking need.”

Trissiny laughed lightly. “Well, the offer stands. Teal and I do this every morning before breakfast; we’d both love to have you join. I would really appreciate it, though, if you didn’t call me a bitch.”

Ruda grunted as she sat up, seizing gratefully on the change of topic. “Yeah, what’s your deal with that, anyway? I thought you were just making an issue of it to get under Tellwyrn’s skin.”

“I don’t need a reason to antagonize Tellwyrn,” she said wryly. “I just dislike gendered insults.”

“Gendered? So fucking what? Most of the people I’ve called bitches were men. Hell, that makes it sting harder.” She grinned, but the corners of Trissiny’s mouth turned down.

“Exactly, it’s meant to hit harder. Did you ever pause to think about why?”

“Because no man likes to have it pointed out that he’s being a pussy?”

Trissiny drew in a breath slowly through her nose. “So calling a man weak is one thing, but calling him weak and feminine is even worse? Don’t you see the implication? It’s a statement that womanhood is a disadvantage. Call someone an idiot, a jerk, or whatever else, and you’re making a personal statement about them. Call them a bitch, and you make it about all women.”

Ruda frowned, then stood, dusting off her pants. “Well…shit. I was all ready to just blow you off like I usually do, but…fuck me if that doesn’t actually make some sense.”

“I do my best,” Trissiny said dryly, rising also.

“Fuck. I liked calling people ‘bitch.’ Now I’m gonna have this in the back of my head every time.”

“Or,” she suggested, “you could not do it.”

“Don’t rush me, prissy britches. You can belittle my fighting technique, but if you take away my cussing, I’ll turn to dust and blow away. What’s next, cutting off my booze supply?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” she said, deadpan.

“Damn right, you wouldn’t.” Ruda turned around and scowled. “And what the fuck are you two grinning at?”

“I’m not grinning,” Shaeine said mildly. Sitting beside her on the rock, Teal only grinned more broadly.

“Morning, everybody,” Gabriel said, stumbling sleepily down from the rock and plodding toward them. “I’m almost afraid to even ask how the hell you’re all so chipper at this disgusting hour. Hey, Ruda, how’re—”

He broke off as Ruda slapped him hard across the face.

“That’s Ms. Punaji, asshole. I care about that shit now.” She cackled gleefully as she snatched up her sword belt and hat, and swaggered back toward their camp.

Gabriel, suddenly wide awake, stared after her with a hand held to the side of his face. “What the hell?!” he screeched, turning around, then scowled as his gaze fell on Trissiny. “This is your doing!”

“Well,” she said, hiding a smile while she retrieved her sword and shield, “it’s a start.”

“CENTAUR!”

Their heads snapped up in unison at the shout. Juniper was standing on the rim of the crater above, waving to get their attention. Once everyone was looking, she pointed down and to the side, at an area hidden from their view by the rocky slope.

Ruda and Trissiny immediately set off at a run, but they had to navigate around a long arm of the rock formation too steep to climb over with any speed, painfully aware that any four-legged enemy would be long gone by the time they got there. Fortunately, not everyone in the group had the same problem.

Teal erupted upward in a burst of flame, and an instant later Vadrieny was banking over the rocks and diving to the plain beyond, folding her blazing wings around herself as she fell.

Trissiny had longer legs; she pulled ahead despite Ruda taking the inside track around the rocky outcrop. They had to sprint across an open area between that and another long extension of stone; ahead, flashes of orange were just visible over it from Vadrieny’s wings. Juniper bounded down the incline ahead of them, then yelped as she lost her footing and went tumbling the rest of the way. They didn’t slow to help her; she might not be the most agile member of the party, but she was one of the most durable. Behind them, Gabriel and Shaeine (neither of whom were used to running) brought up a distant rear.

Ruda was lagging behind and putting too much breath into running even to curse about it by the time Trissiny rounded the next stone barrier and skidded to a halt, taking stock.

The centaur was exactly as she’d always heard them described: a horse with a man’s torso sprouting from where its neck should be. He had wild, bushy hair and she caught glimpses of a full beard, despite him being faced away from her and trying to escape. Draped over his back was a collection of bags such as a packhorse would carry, with two spears and bristling quivers of arrows visible among his inventory. Geometric designs were tattooed onto his human skin, and appeared to have been branded into his hindquarters.

Vadrieny was blocking his frantic efforts to escape. The demon was far more agile and had the advantage of flight; no matter which way he wheeled, she swiftly placed herself in front of him, snarling and flexing her talons. She didn’t seem to be attacking, for whatever reason, but was effectively holding him in place

It was enough.

Ruda charged past her, and Trissiny burst into motion on her heels; the paladin went right and the pirate left. At their approach, the centaur whirled to face them, throwing all his weight onto his front legs for a moment to lash out with his powerful back hooves at Vadrieny. In one hand, he held the broken half of a bow; those hooves seemed to be his only functional weapons.

The maneuver cost him. Vadrieny hopped nimbly back out of his range, but the rearing kick gave the two humans time to close in. Before he could get his footing firmly back, Trissiny dropped to a crouch mid-run, skidding on the grass, and slashed at one foreleg with her full strength. The crack of breaking bone was clearly audible.

With a cry of agony, the centaur stumbled drunkenly to one side, his left front leg out of commission. He brought up the broken half of his bow to club Trissiny; she raised her shield, but before the blow could fall, Ruda reached him and drove the tip of her rapier into his upraised underarm.

From there, it took only a few more slashes and hits to subdue the centaur; finally, the tip of Ruda’s sword pressed into his throat seemed to convince him to cease struggling. He glared pure hatred at them, chest heaving with exertion, but making no more aggressive moves.

They had matters pretty much under control by the time the others gathered. Fross arrived first, buzzing around the felled centaur in frantic circles. Juniper, Gabe and Shaeine all came staggering up as a group, the former brushing gravel out of her hair and the latter two out of breath. Toby and Professor Rafe were the last to arrive; they had been forced to pick their way down the steeper side of the rock formation to avoid going all the way around.

“What the fuck was that?” Ruda demanded as soon as relative calm had descended, scowling at Vadrieny. “You could’ve finished this fucker off easy.”

“Had we been alone, I would have,” the demon said, meeting her glare. “But as it was, you were on hand to deal with him. Teal does not like it when we hurt people.” Having said her piece, she withdrew, flames fading and claws withdrawing to leave Teal standing in her place, looking pale and shaken.

“This’ll be a scout,” Rafe noted, looking more focused than they’d ever seen him before. “Obviously, we can’t let him take word of us back to his…group.”

“Herd?” Gabriel suggested.

“They’ll be curious if he doesn’t come back at all,” Trissiny warned.

“Yeah,” Rafe said, nodding, “but that buys us some time. And they may not. There’s no shortage of dangerous crap in the Golden Sea; we’ve had a pretty gentle time of it, largely because we haven’t been screwing around with it. You remember what Ansheh said? Centaurs navigate by twisting the Sea to take them where they want to go. It tends to drop the nastiest stuff it has on them in retaliation. I bet they lose scouts all the time.”

“So what do we do with this guy, then?” Juniper asked, stepping up close to the kneeling centaur despite hisses of warning from her classmates. He ran his eyes over her body slowly, then smirked. The dryad didn’t seem to notice this, peering intently at his face. “Should we…I dunno, interrogate him for information?”

“What information?” Gabriel asked. “The Sea shifts around, and we can’t make it take us anyplace useful. Knowing where his herd are doesn’t do us much good when we can’t even know where we are.”

“So he’s not really good for anything, then?” she asked, turning her back to the centaur to face them.

“Gabe’s got the right of it,” said Rafe. “Even if we could make him cooperate… Well, there’s just not much of any use we could learn from him.”

“This is a problem!” Fross cried, buzzing around in a tizzy. “Cos we can’t really take him with us and we can’t afford to leave him here, and Imperial law governing the treatment of prisoners—”

“Meh,” Juniper said dismissively, then turned around and smacked the centaur hard in the face. With a sickening crunch of pulverized vertebrae, his head was wrenched backward to hang over his spine. He spasmed violently, toppling to one side, legs twitching.

“What the fuck?!” Ruda bellowed, barely leaping back out of the way in time. Other voices of shock and protest joined her.

“What?” Juniper looked around at them, apparently baffled. “What’s the problem? What else were we gonna do with him?”

“You don’t just kill a prisoner!” Ruda snarled.

“Why not? He’s only a prisoner if we want to keep him one, right? And we didn’t! He was an enemy combatant.” The dryad shrugged, frowning around at them. “I don’t know what you’re all so upset about.”

“That is what we’re upset about,” Toby said quietly. “It’s important to treat beaten foes with mercy, Juniper. That’s what separates us from the animals.”

“No,” she shot back, scowling, “what separates you from the animals is that you burn up resources you don’t need doing things that don’t contribute to your survival. I’ve gotta say, this sounds like more of that. Mercy, indeed. The poor thing couldn’t even walk anymore.”

“That’s not the point!” Ruda shouted. “Yeah, mercy indeed! If someone weaker than you is under your power, you don’t fucking abuse it!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” the dryad retorted, growing increasingly irate. “None of you are making any sense! If something wants to kill you, you kill it back, first, otherwise you die! I don’t get why this is so hard for you all to understand! How has your species survived this long if you don’t grasp the most basic—”

“All right, enough,” said Rafe.

“But she—”

“Enough!” They all reared back from the unfamiliar crack of command in his voice. Rafe moderated his tone somewhat, but his expression was still much more resolute than they were used to seeing on him. “Kids…don’t argue moral philosophy with fae. Okay? Juniper simply doesn’t think the same way the rest of us do. You wanna have this talk, that’s great, but do it later, when you have time to go around in circles and everybody’s not riding an adrenaline high. And Juno, hon, I love you, but don’t do shit like that, all right? There are rules we have to respect. If you don’t know them, let the people who do take the lead. Kay?”

“All right,” she said in a small voice.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Well. I was kinda hoping to have another dip in the springs before we left, since we’ll probably never see this place again, but… I’ve suddenly got a feeling it would be in our best interests to get the hell out of here.”

“No shit,” Ruda grunted, wiping blood from her sword with a handful of tallgrass stalks.

“Right,” said Rafe, rubbing his hands together and looking a bit more like himself. “Time to break up camp, my little cabbages. I’ll get all our crap packed away. Gabe, Ruda, I’m putting you in charge of cleaning up this guy.”

“Fuckin’ ew.”

“Wait! Are we allowed to do that?” Fross asked shrilly. “We don’t know their burial customs! We could be messing up his spirit or something! Isn’t it bad enough we killed him?”

“’Scuze me, but we didn’t kill him,” Ruda said.

“Fross, if he’d been here with more of his group, he would have raped and murdered us and looted our corpses,” Trissiny said firmly. “In fact, his goal was probably to go get more of his friends so they could do just that.”

“But what does that have to do with their funerary rites!?”

“What Trissiny means to say,” Gabriel said, “if she’ll pardon me for presuming, is that we don’t give a fuck about their funerary rites. There are enemies who are treated with respect, and then there’s these guys. Let him rot.” Trissiny nodded grudgingly at him.

“O-okay,” the pixie said uncertainly. By her continued darting back and forth and soft undercurrent of jangling chimes, she wasn’t much reassured.

“Great!” said Rafe cheerfully. “Since we’ve got that cleared up, I’m gonna give you guys some protective gloves and vials of solution to dispose of him.”

“What, some kind of potion that’ll make him invisible or something, so the other centaurs can’t track him?”

“Yes, Gabriel, just so, in the sense that it’s basically a virulent acid which will reduce him to biodegradable goo. Also, don’t get any on your skin. Even with two paladins, a cleric and a dryad on hand, I’m not sure we’re packing enough healing to straighten that out.”

“Have I mentioned yet today how much I hate your class, Professor?”

“That’s the spirit, Punaji! Ten points!”

“Seriously, fuck you.”

“Right, while they’re doing that, I’ve got a subtler solution for the rest of you to apply to the bottoms of your feet. Also, the hems of any robes, skirts, or anything else that’ll be trailing along the ground. It will prevent us from leaving any tracks. I’m not sure it’s possible for us to be tracked in the Golden Sea, but I’m not taking any risks with something like this. Here, Toby, pass these out. Now if I could just get a hand breaking down the tents, I’ll go stuff the rest of our campsite down my pants and we can get movin’. Oh, Fross,” he added more somberly. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to conceal pixie tracks. For the good of the group, you’ll have to be left behind.”

“What?!” she squealed. “But that—how?! I don’t—it doesn’t—what does that—”

“Don’t make fun of her, you addled degenerate!” Trissiny snapped. “Fross, ignore him. He’s trying, at the most inappropriate possible time, to make a joke. We’re not leaving anybody behind.”

“Okay. Okay. All right.” Muttering softly to herself, the pixie darted over to flutter around behind Trissiny.

As they all split up, heading off to their various tasks, Juniper stayed put for a minute, looking down at the fallen centaur, then back after the departing members of the group. She sighed heavily. “I just don’t understand.”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >