Author: Tower Curator

 

“Electro Deus!”

Lightning scorched the ground where the red-eyed ghast had been standing an instant ago. The ghast hadn’t jumped aside. It simply vanished. Arkk recognized the effect immediately as the same kind of teleportation he could do around Fortress Al-Mir.

“I did warn you, Master. It isn’t too late to flee.”

“Focus on the rest of them,” Arkk said, launching two more lightning bolts at the goblins attacking the gate. “Without an army, the other Keeper…” Arkk trailed off as the third goblin he tried to fry vanished much like the ghast.

It wasn’t just him either. Archers on the walls found their arrows passing right through where their targets had been. Farr’an tried to hit one of the snapping insects with a crossbow bolt, only for it to be whisked off elsewhere. Dakka and Orjja had procured bows from somewhere and were making efforts, but to Arkk’s eyes, it looked more like a waste of arrows than an effective battle tactic.

“Electro Deus.”

Five bolts laced out from each of Arkk’s fingers. Only two hit their targets. The Keeper was quick at getting the minions out of the way.

Zullie threw a few lightning bolts of her own. Like Arkk, the majority of hers struck nothing. Their combined accuracy was still better than any of the archers. Lightning was just a bit faster than arrows and they didn’t have to aim much at all. Just point and blast. Unfortunately for Zullie, she couldn’t maintain the output that Arkk could. After two or three bolts, she had to stop and take a short rest. That took out half their effective fighting force for several moments.

With a frustrated cry, Dakka shouted the incantation for lighting and fried a raptor that had tried to leap onto the wall near her. It looked like she tried for a second bolt but didn’t manage anything before collapsing, chest heaving up and down. Interesting though it was to note that she could cast that spell in a combat situation, Arkk was disappointed in her stamina with it.

Maybe training would increase her effectiveness? He would bring it up with Zullie later.

Arkk narrowed his eyes as he spotted movement in the distance. More monsters were approaching. Reinforcements? Or were they the ones the Keeper had whisked off coming back to rejoin the fray?

“He has territory nearby?”

Vezta, who hadn’t yet acted in an offensive capability as she stood next to Arkk, simply nodded her head. “I would expect nothing less.”

“We—”

Arkk cut himself off as a cry of alarm rose over the far end of the wall. A yellow and black striped insect had scaled the wall. One of the guards, bow on the ground and sword drawn, didn’t get a chance to strike out before the scythe-like pincers sliced him clean in two.

Arrows and crossbow bolts rained down as the insect started to lash out at another guard, only for the insect to vanish. That didn’t stop the arrows. One ripped straight through another guard’s thigh, eliciting a cry of pain.

The distraction allowed the forces at the wall to spring their attack. A ghast, using its powerful hind legs, leaped into the air not far from Arkk, intending to land on the wall somewhere near him.

“Electro Deus!”

A blinding bolt of lightning followed by a heavy thunderclap struck the flying ghast. Its limbs seized in mid-air but its momentum carried it straight toward the wall.

Tendrils erupted from the shadows around Arkk, ripping the ghast from the air. Arkk expected it to simply get whisked away to wherever the other monsters had gone, but it didn’t. Vezta’s tendrils wrapped around its limbs and began pulling, squeezing, and twisting. Pale blood dripped to the ground as if the ghast was a wet cloth being wrung. Finished, Vezta flung the broken body back into the crowd with enough force to crush a goblin.

“We should count ourselves lucky that this whole town isn’t within our opponent’s domain,” Vezta said in a conversational tone as she worked. “Not only would I not have been able to teleport directly to your side, but one of those large insects teleporting behind you would take off your head before either of us could react.”

“A few more of those and the wall will fall anyway,” Arkk said, looking around. “The Keeper just needs to kill enough guards to lessen the defense enough to where the majority of his force can rush inside unhindered. Until then, it is a battle of attrition and his teleportation tactic is giving him an advantage while depleting our stock of arrows. But…

“The Keeper isn’t fighting the way I would. He could have used his servants to burrow into the burg, bypassing the wall entirely. He is just throwing his forces at the wall. The heavily defended part of the wall no less.”

More reinforcements were coming to the gate. Soldiers from elsewhere. Even some of the mercenaries from the tavern.

Everyone was coming here.

“Dakka!” The orc wasn’t effective with the bow and couldn’t manage sustained lighting bolts. Arkk pulled out his crystal ball and tossed it over. “I need you to scry the rest of the wall. Make sure we aren’t fighting a distraction.”

“Me? Scry? I can’t—”

“It’s easy. If you can cast a lightning bolt, you can scry! Just think of where you want to see with a little touch of magic and the crystal ball will take care of the rest.”

“I… I can try.”

Arkk glanced at Zullie, who had given up on lightning spells in favor of some bird made of flames that swept outward from the wall before exploding in the middle of the monsters. It wasn’t killing anything—the wave of flame following the explosion wasn’t nearly as fast as lightning which meant that the Keeper could pull any monster that was in danger away—but it was doing a wonderful job of giving them some breathing room.

Vezta wasn’t actively attacking, but the few monsters that did make it within range either had to be whisked away before her tendrils could reach them or else she would crush them. It was like the Keeper couldn’t teleport anything away once she got her tendrils around them.

Both were too effective to put on scrying duty.

“Do it,” Arkk said, tossing the crystal ball. “Succeed and you’ll get a pay raise.” She tried to protest, but Arkk was already turning away. “Orjja!”

The green-skinned orc stiffened, loosing an arrow before turning to face him.

“Get down to the guardhouse. Take the teleportation circle. You should find another circle at the other end. Repeat that until you’re back at the fortress. I’ve shoved Rekk’ar and the other orcs into the armory—hopefully, they get the hint to gear up. Bring them back here.” Before she could offer the same protests that Dakka had tried, Arkk added, “You should be able to use magic enough to activate the circles.”

Orjja gave an uncertain nod to acknowledge the order but didn’t protest as she rushed down off the wall.

“Will a few orcs turn the tide?” Vezta asked, voice soft in the heavy rain.

“Not necessarily, but if we are being surrounded, I would rather have people I can count on to have my back,” Arkk said, eying a pair of the First Legion who were taking up the defense down the wall. “Can we destroy or otherwise nullify the Keeper’s territory? If the Keeper’s forces have to travel long distances after being rescued, that will at least wear them out. It should also slow down the attack, giving our side moments of rest.”

“Your lesser servants should be able to forcibly unclaim territory. They won’t be able to claim it in your name without territory of our own, but it would shrink our opponent’s effective area.”

Arkk, after launching a few more bolts of lightning, summoned a pair of lesser servants. “Burrow in that direction,” he said, pointing to where the reinforcing stream of monsters was coming from. “Find enemy territory and disrupt it.”

“They shouldn’t require verbal orders,” Vezta said, canting her head as she watched them leap off the wall and dive into the ground. A few monsters struck at the lesser servants, but they couldn’t follow into the tiny passages. The servants weren’t digging corridors or halls meant for others, just their own amorphous bodies. “The lesser servants are direct extensions of the [HEART]. Your [HEART].”

“So the ones I summoned earlier can be brought back to help those two?”

Vezta dipped her head. “For as much as they can help. You’ve seen them fight. The moment the other Keeper spots them, their mission will end.”

“They need escorts.”

“Master,” Vezta said, burning suns that were her eyes turning to bore into him. “Might I remind you that you said we were to defend only?”

Arkk fried a goblin and hit a ghast with lightning. The latter got back to its feet, unfortunately. “You know what they say about a good defense,” he said, gritting his teeth into a forced smile. “We just need to—”

“No we master. The Keeper is after you. If you step foot onto enemy territory, you will be surrounded and defeated in an instant.”

“If it is any consolation, I don’t think the Keeper wants to kill me. Just eat my brain.”

Vezta was not amused.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Vezta drew in a breath of air and let it back out. “I will go after your servants. You will stay safe.”

“Will you be safe?”

Vezta’s eyes shifted back to the ground over the wall. She assessed for a moment before nodding. “If this is all the Keeper has, I won’t die.”

“And if he has more? If there is another of your kin around?”

“Then I will impress upon my sibling the utter mistake of attacking the master of Fortress Al-Mir.”

Arkk held Vezta’s gaze, looking for any sign of false bravado in her confidence. Finding none, he smiled. “Then I’ll leave this to—”

“Arkk!” Dakka shouted, moving closer with the crystal ball. “Sorry to interrupt. You were right. The guards along the northern side of the wall are dead. They look… eaten. Partially.”

Grimacing, Arkk looked back to Vezta. “If the Keeper is here, now might be the best time to go. Destroy as much as you can. Once you’ve been noticed, get out.”

Vezta hesitated, then bowed. “As you command.”

She backed up until she bumped against the waist-high barrier of the wall. She didn’t stop moving, tipping over backward. Arkk rushed over just in time to watch her land on her feet, somehow facing away from the wall. Tendrils covered in eyes and mouths whipped around her in a fury, striking at anything too close. The Keeper took note in an instant, ripping away any monsters that were within reach.

As soon as there was nothing left to attack, Vezta’s tendrils turned on her. They twisted around her, folding over and over as they tied her down into a tiny knot far too small to contain her full form. The tendrils turned and shrank until they were completely gone, pulled into the ground right where one of the lesser servants had burrowed into the ground.

A moment of silence covered both sides of the battlefield with Vezta’s departure. More than a few eyes turned in his direction. Even Zullie was staring down at the spot where Vezta had vanished. Arkk tried to pretend he didn’t notice. Instead, he used the momentary lapse in action to send a full-powered bolt of lightning at the nearest insect. The explosion of yellow globs of blood and viscera started the battle over again.

Twisting, roiling masses of tendrils erupted back onto the surface just after reaching a fortified wall through the narrow tunnel the lesser servants had dug. The entrance to the fortress was well hidden, poking out from a large boulder that might have been covering the entrance entirely up until this event started.

Vezta stared for a long moment, watching and observing as she tried to recall just who had commanded a [HEART] in this area. The area had the faint smell of death and decay still lingering even after a thousand years. The Eternal Silence, Vezta presumed. The only Keeper Vezta could recall who paid such tribute to the Eternal Silence would have been Duncan the Undefeated, who had obviously been defeated at some point over the centuries. Or… maybe he hadn’t. The Eternal Silence, a master of death and undeath, could have sustained a servant indefinitely.

Or so would have been the case before the Calamity.

As Vezta stood watching, a third lesser servant emerged nearby. Arkk had summoned five in total, three before she arrived and two after. She wasn’t sure where the missing ones were, but the three present should suffice for her current duty.

Disrupting the enemy’s ability to return their minions to the fight in a timely manner wasn’t a bad plan. It might make the opposing Keeper less inclined to rescue useless minions knowing that they wouldn’t be back in the fight for a long time in addition to tiring out those that did get rescued. It showed acceptable levels of tactical thinking, which was about all Vezta could expect from a novice. It was also a plan that only had a chance of success now. If the [HEART] of this fortress was connected to the [PANTHEON] the way it should have been, Vezta wouldn’t have made it more than a step inside before magical destruction rained down upon her for her insolence.

As it was, all she had to worry about were the monsters raining down upon her.

Vezta watched with narrowed eyes as a trio of monsters emerged from the long stairwell that led down into the depths of the fortress. None noticed the glowing eyes in the shadows of the Darkwood. They didn’t bother to look back, ushered along by their Keeper to continue their mindless assault on the human settlement. A pair emerged shortly after and another two after that.

Simply walking inside would see her caught. While Vezta had every confidence in her ability to escape, even should the Keeper make an appearance, the lesser servants would perish and thus she would fail her mission. Without the siege magics provided by a fully functional [HEART], burrowing inside wouldn’t be possible either. She could scour the area for an alternate entrance but that would likely consume too much time.

Vezta looked over the three waiting servants with a distasteful frown. If only she could carry out the task of destroying territory on her own. Alas, her former master had sacrificed much of her connection to [HEART] magics to make her a more effective advisor capable of autonomous thought and activity. It had been necessary for her to delve into the mysteries of the [HEART] failure caused by the Calamity.

Reaching down, she picked up one of the squirming masses of tentacles and began reshaping it much as she had done with the servant currently in charge of tailoring. Discarded bits and pieces fell to the ground around them as she rent the physical form of the creature, leaving it more or less in the form of a shadow between the stars. A few glowing eyes and one snapping set of teeth were all that remained. The rest of the darkness bled into the shadows of the brush under the trees.

Vezta performed the same treatment on the other two servants. They wouldn’t survive for long like this. They didn’t need to. Within the hour, she would finish her task and would finally be able to get her stubborn master away from this place.

Prepared, Vezta waited for a lull in the number of monsters emerging from the opening beneath the barrel. Her tendrils pulled her down into a shadowy form, though it wasn’t quite as hidden as while in Fortress Al-Mir or while near Arkk. The Keeper might notice if he paid attention. Some of the smarter minions could as well if they knew what to look for.

Entering the passageway with the other servants trailing after her, Vezta was surprised to find a total lack of doors. Had the Keeper relied entirely on the boulder as their method of defense? That, Vezta could only shake her head at. It was either an embarrassing display of incompetence, an embarrassing display of overconfidence, or an embarrassing display of ignorance. Whatever the case, her opinion of the Keeper fell even further as she continued down a long and straight corridor.

She no longer held any delusions that this might be Duncan the Undefeated.

The corridor was a mess. The tiles were cracked and broken and the gemstones, typical identifiers of [HEART] territory, were faded or missing entirely. Vezta could hardly believe that this area could count as territory without the linking stones carrying out the [HEART] magic. What were the servants of this fortress doing?

Vezta’s slithering march through the fortress corridor came to a pause as she considered that question.

Were there servants? Arkk only knew the spell to summon lesser servants because she taught it to him. If other servants of Vezta’s kind had withered away in the years since the Calamity, there might not be anyone around to teach the current Keeper of the [HEART]. Vezta was unsure how she had survived. The [HEART] going dormant without a master should have starved her. Instead, she had waited for a suitable master to come along and now lived to watch Fortress Al-Mir regain its beat.

Master Razerk’s modifications to her being might have been the cause. He truly had been a genius in the art of magic. If only he had lived to see her return with knowledge of what the so-called Light gods had done, he would have had the portal reopened in a week and the Calamity undone the next.

Thought discarded, Vezta pushed forward. If there were no servants in this fortress to reclaim the territory she destroyed, her task became infinitely simpler. She just needed to find the furthest junction of the territory. Fortress territory had to be contiguous for any given locale. If she disrupted territory as far from the boulder entrance as possible, she wouldn’t need to fight her way through minions every step of the way. Normally, that wouldn’t even be possible. She would have to start at the outside and work her way in on any proper fortress. Here? With the weak links between each tile?

She was honestly surprised that the fortification magic was still working. Destroying the territorial claim would be child’s play.

With the magic of the [HEART] disconnected, the servants would then be able to collapse the tunnel entirely, forcing the monsters to take a different route if the enemy Keeper wished to continue their assault.

Vezta found her junction after a few minutes of scurrying along the corners of the corridor. This tunnel was long and empty, much like those from Fortress Al-Mir that led to the nearby villages. It lacked the traps Arkk had installed and had no other defenses. Not even patrolling minions—they were presumably all involved with the assault. Vezta was disappointed with how easy this job was.

The servants under her command got to work with a mere gesture, fighting the weak magic of the dilapidated fortress’ claim on the territory. Vezta remained at the ready, fully prepared for the rain of minions.

Yet the tiles cracked and withered, collapsing to raw earth. As the last of the fortress magic dissipated from the area, a cascading effect ran down the corridor at Vezta’s back, destroying every tile and wall. Not questioning her good fortune at a lack of opposition, Vezta directed the servants to the walls to begin collapsing the tunnel.

Only after they burrowed within did the situation change.

A ghast appeared before Vezta, perhaps the same one from the initial moments of the assault. Frothing white foam dripped from its unhinged jaw as it looked around the corridor. Its tiny red eyes settled on Vezta after only a moment. Without a word or attempt at communication, it charged.

Vezta just waved, smiling wide as the tunnel collapsed down around it.

That wouldn’t have killed the Keeper. Even if he hadn’t been possessing a body, a simple teleport would have him extracted. With the collapse and no territory on this side, however, he was trapped over there. Vezta did not know where other entrances were or if there was another close route. That should still stall him enough.

Perhaps more than enough. A small part of Vezta wanted to agree with her master. Crushing this interloper entirely both for offenses against the [PANTHEON] and being such an embarrassment toward Keepers of the [HEART] would have been gratifying. Still, embarrassment though this Keeper was, her reasoning from earlier had not changed. Especially not now that he had been alerted to her presence. He would be on guard if he wasn’t completely incompetent.

With a small shake of her head, Vezta turned and started walking back through the dirt tunnel, directing the servants to continue collapsing the tunnel behind her until they inevitably expired.

Upon returning to the burg, Vezta took stock of the situation as she approached. The gate had been bashed in but there wasn’t any fighting going on. Bodies stained the ground, most from monsters but a few humans as well. No living monsters remained. The Keeper must have pulled them back, possibly fearing that they were under further attack.

Ducking under a ruined wooden beam of the gate, Vezta’s many eyes swept over the scene. The knot of fear pulled taut deep within her chest.

Humans stood on one side. Orcs stood on the other. Arkk was on the ground, blood staining his tunic from a series of thick claw marks across his chest. Zullie crouched over him, muttering something as she drew her finger over one of the wounds. The skin behind her finger sealed together as she moved, but whatever magic she was using didn’t work properly. The skin split apart almost immediately and her spell wasn’t doing anything about the black veins spreading out from the wound.

“Master?”

 

 

“Slave Natum.”

A trio of lesser servants appeared before Arkk. “Search the forest,” Arkk said. “Look for a fortress like Al-Mir. Failing that, alert me if you find anything that looks like a permanent dwelling.” They hadn’t even finished forming before they burrowed into the ground heading in the direction of the Darkwood forest, moving to carry out his commands. He wasn’t sure that they needed verbal orders. Around Fortress Al-Mir, they always just seemed to know what was needed at any given moment.

The verbal command at least removed any ambiguity on his end.

Ignoring the repulsed noises and cries of alarm from both his companions and the wall guards, Arkk closed his eyes and focused his attention afar.

Within Fortress Al-Mir, Arkk ripped one of the lesser servants through space remotely. It couldn’t reach him—he was far too far away—but he could pick it up and drop it down right in front of Vezta, stopping a discussion between her and Zullie. Assisting him from afar might not be possible. He still felt that she should be aware of the situation.

If it came down to it, Vezta had suggested chaining together teleportation rituals for rapid transit in the past. Both of them had been leery of actually doing so for the simple reason that it would leave a trail that led directly back to the fortress. Destroying the circles forced the one doing the destroying to walk the distance, which wasn’t an insurmountable problem but it was an irritating one.

With the lesser servant interrupting Vezta, a crystal ball appearing in its hand along with an alembic, he hoped Vezta would catch on. She was smart enough.

As soon as Arkk saw her pick up the crystal ball and start scrying with it, Arkk opened his eyes. It would likely take her a few minutes to find him since he wasn’t actually in the alchemist’s workshop, the first place he figured she would check because of that alembic. That gave him plenty of time to start scrawling down a few messages for Vezta to read from afar. The guards, after receiving a generous donation of far too many coins, had been more than happy to lend him some parchment and ink.

“I will be getting Gretchen back to my workshop,” Morford whispered. Gretchen was under the cloak once again, but Morford had a hand gripping the empty air, so presumably, he was holding onto her.

They started to turn, but Arkk held up a hand. “Wait.”

Morford stiffened. “I offered payment. I can offer more if—”

“I don’t care about payment or Gretchen at the moment. You said you had seen red-eyed ghasts before? When? Under what circumstances? Have you ever seen more than one at a time? How many ghasts are estimated to be in the forest?”

Arkk could feel the flat look he was getting despite not being able to see it. “Gretchen—”

“Is an excuse. Answer my questions, alchemist.” Arkk shot a look at Dakka and nodded his head toward Morford. “This is not negotiable. If you refuse, I will carry out the job I initially came here for. Rescuing Gretchen from her captor.” Arkk shot a pointed look at Morford as he said that.

“You wouldn’t,” hissed the empty air next to the alchemist as Dakka approached, arms crossed over her chest.

“I won’t need to if you just answer the questions.”

“An invasion of ghasts is unlikely at worst,” Morford hedged, sounding more resigned than upset. “They don’t work together.”

“Assume there is an outside force making them work together.”

“That is just as absurd. I have studied the creatures in an attempt to uncover the secrets of their creation. They possess a gland that secretes a substance which makes them angry and then turns their rage into strength and brutality. Unfortunately, a flaw in its design causes it to go overactive when in the presence of another of their kind. The smell of each other sets it off. Hence their territoriality.”

“Boss,” Dakka said, “we might be dealing with more than just ghasts.”

“How do you figure?”

Dakka shrugged. “You hired us, that witch, and Vezta, right? There are all kinds of monsters out in this forest. If this guy can hire these ghast things, who is to say that he can’t hire everything else?”

Arkk closed his eyes. She was right. He hadn’t actually hired Vezta—she had come along as a part of the fortress more than a minion—but everything else was accurate. What all was out in the forest? Undead, an insect colony, goblins, raptors… probably more besides those. Raptors were beasts more than monsters. Was it possible to hire them? If not, it was entirely possible that he would have people in his employ capable of taming them and using them as war beasts.

Pulling out his crystal ball, Arkk asked, “Morford, when you were out there exploring, did you ever come across old ruins, structures, landmarks, peculiar activity among the various monsters, or anything else of interest?”

The guards, though happy to hand over parchment in exchange for gold, hadn’t believed a word about an invasion. Monsters threw themselves against the walls of Darkwood Burg with a regularity that had become routine. None of those assaults were organized. If he could scry an army approaching and show it off, he might be able to organize a proper defense.

While Morford thought, Arkk quickly checked in on Vezta. She and Zullie were hovering over the crystal ball. A quick glimpse into their crystal ball showed it focused on him. Glad Vezta was such an adept at scrying, Arkk pointed over to the parchment where he had set it down on the gatehouse table. One of the guards was reading it as well, not that Arkk minded much. While he hadn’t written it in code, references to another potential fortress were vague enough that only someone familiar with them should be able to understand what he had written down.

Other parts of the message were less vague. A potential invasion on the burg chief among them.

“There is a lake in the center of the forest,” Morford said in their usual whisper. “When I and…” They trailed off, hesitating a moment before restarting their sentence. “When I first came to this settlement and began my research, there was an old church-like building that I observed some monsters making their home of. Raptors, for the most part. We caught a ghast not far from it and neutralized it with one of my potions before dragging it away for examination.”

Looking into his crystal ball, Arkk focused high above the forest. From there, it was easy to pick out the lake. It looked completely landlocked. No river flowed in or out. “What side of the lake? Closer to the burg or the opposite side?”

“Closer, around the southern side.”

Adjusting the viewpoint in the crystal ball, Arkk started scanning. “Dakka, write what Morford just said on the parchment while I search,” he said.

Image after image flashed by in the crystal ball, flickering from point to point around the lake. The vast majority of everything he saw was just trees, unfortunately. Thick black-barked trees with branches high over the forest floor formed a thick canopy that blocked even more of what little light there was today. Those must have been the trees Darkwood had been named for.

He found it. He wasn’t sure if it had been a church in its former life, but today, the ruins Morford had pointed out were little more than a mound of rubble. A full pack of emerald-feathered raptors was nesting within the crumbled walls. Each was as large as a horse, capable of moving fast to chase prey. Their hooked beaks were sharp enough to tear through flesh as easily as the kingdom’s sharpest sword. Or so Arkk had heard; this was his first time seeing one.

Moving the viewpoint of the scrying down below ground, Arkk sucked in a breath.

A familiar sight greeted him. Large hallways lit by torches and the occasional glowstone. If he squinted his eyes and blurred his vision somewhat, Arkk doubted he would have been able to tell the difference between Al-Mir and this corridor. Upon looking closer, however, the differences were obvious. Instead of clean tiles with a faint maze pattern and compass rose in the floor, the tiles here were old and worn, cracked and broken. There were still glowstones, these burning a dim red as opposed to Al-Mir’s vibrant violets, but several tiles were simply missing their glowstones. Checking from room to room, he had to frown at the sight. Most of it looked dilapidated. More like how he had originally found Al-Mir instead of its refurbished look after the servants had gone through to clean it up. The rooms that did have items and occupants looked less like they had been constructed using the fortress magic and more like the occupants had simply dragged in whatever they needed from outside.

Still, it was there.

And disturbingly empty. Al-Mir had a lot of entirely unused rooms but enough of it had activity, even with the currently reduced presence of orcs within its walls, that he felt confident in being able to find signs of life if he had to scry his own fortress. This place, however, was deserted. That might have filled him with confidence had he not received that warning about invasion earlier. As it was, it only made him think that this other Keeper’s forces were already moving toward the burg.

“Write down—”

A faint flash of light in the guardhouse cut Arkk off. He blinked twice and found Vezta, hands clasped at her navel, standing in the middle of a freshly formed teleportation circle.

“Master, I—”

“Holy Light!” the guard cried out, staring at Vezta.

That was the wrong thing to say. All of Vezta’s eyes narrowed as an oily tendril lashed out from her arm, wrapping around the guard’s throat.

“Stand down, Vezta,” Arkk said as soon as he realized what was happening. “He isn’t an enemy.”

The tendril remained in position just long enough for it to look like she was going to snap his neck anyway. It uncoiled, letting the guard drop into a heap where he quickly scrambled back against the wall. The tendril merged with Vezta’s arm as she gave a light bow. “As you command.”

Letting out a small sigh, Arkk looked over his servant, then dropped his eyes to the ritual circle. “You came.”

“Another active fortress is unexpected and warrants extreme measures.”

“What do you propose we do about it? I assume you have suggestions?”

“We leave,” Vezta said. Arkk blinked a few times, not quite sure he heard her correctly. She took that as a need for explanation. “We take this circle out of the city. It took four hops to reach you here. We will only use this, the shortest distance teleportation. The rest we destroy on our way back to Fortress Al-Mir. After we have gone, we can reevaluate the situation at our leisure.”

“This other Keeper is going to invade,” Arkk said, frowning. “You want to leave these people to fend for themselves?”

“They are not allied with you.” Vezta sighed, then pointed a tendril toward the parchment. “And if it bothers you to such an extent that you would throw your life away, consider that this Keeper is invading for you. If you are no longer here, there is no cause to invade.”

“And who is going to tell this Keeper that I’ve left?” Arkk shook his head.

Stepping closer, Vezta put a hand on Arkk’s arm. “Master, many of Fortress Al-Mir’s capabilities are not functioning due to the Calamity. I have no reason to believe that this fortress is any different. However, the capabilities Fortress Al-Mir does provide heavily favor defense. Assaulting an opposing fortress without offensive power—or, indeed, an army—will see you defeated and me bereft of a master once more.”

“But that’s—” Arkk paused as he felt a tug on the link between him and one of the lesser servants. Checking on it, he frowned. “One of the lesser servants I sent out to find the fortress just ran into a fortified wall that it can’t dig through?”

Vezta nodded her head as if she expected that. “As I said, we lack offensive capabilities. We would have to find a proper entrance, go through it the way the opposing Keeper wants us to, and deal with his traps and minions. Minions that he can move about at will just as you can yours within Al-Mir’s walls.”

Arkk pressed his lips together. “What kind of offensive capabilities?”

Vezta cast a glance around the room, narrowing her eyes at each of the individuals present who weren’t affiliated with Fortress Al-Mir. Taking Arkk by the arm, she led him off to a corner of the room where they could speak in quiet, hushed tones. “There exists magic capable of rending the fortifications. Siege magic. I know little about how to go about affecting such spells but do know that my former master, as powerful as he was, was forced to lean heavily on the [HEART]’s magical reserves when conducting these rituals.”

“Is the Heart capable of supporting that kind of magic right now?”

Vezta could only shrug. “Unsure. The [HEART] gains strength with additional territory and minions. It might be possible. It might be impossible with the effects of the Calamity looming over us. However, in either case, neither of us knows how to cast those rituals.”

Arkk closed his eyes once more but before he could say anything else, a shout came down from outside the guardhouse. “Enemies at the gate! To arms!”

Vezta tried to pull Arkk toward the circle, but he shook her off. “We can’t leave.” Before she could protest, Arkk said, “We won’t attack the fortress. We will help defend. Then we need to be seen leaving the city. Is that—”

Another faint flash filled the guardhouse. Arkk blinked and glanced over to the teleportation circle.

Zullie stood in the middle, looking down at her hands with a loopy grin on her face. “That was a hell of a thing.”

“Zullie, you know any offensive magics?”

The violet-eyed witch looked up, offense written across her face. “Do I know offensive magics? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“A woman who said she had never been in a fight when last I asked.”

“I don’t know what that has to do with my magical knowledge.”

“Good. Zullie is here for the defense too.” Arkk paused then tilted his head to one side. “What about siege magic?”

“Siege magic?” Zullie sounded less certain. “What exactly would that entail? I’m sure some magic I know could be used in a protracted siege…”

“Never mind.” Looking back to Vezta, Arkk placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “Defense then leave. Alright?”

Vezta let out a long, incensed sigh. “As you command,” she said with a bow.

“Good,” Arkk turned, nodded to Dakka, then started out of the guardhouse. He paused at Morford, however. The alchemist’s dark lenses were locked on Vezta. Thinking back, Morford had been staring at Vezta since her arrival. Obviously, Arkk couldn’t see them blinking, but with how utterly still they were, Arkk wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Morford hadn’t blinked once since that initial flash of light.

Shaking his head, Arkk moved past the alchemist without a word. Morford wasn’t a minion of his. He couldn’t command them around. Not to mention that he had maybe threatened Morford just a little bit ago to get them talking about the fortress. Better to just leave them alone.

With Vezta here, Arkk wasn’t too concerned about whatever this Keeper might throw at the burg. They had the guards to back them up and, assuming she did know combat magic, Zullie could sling spells from the walls until she collapsed from exhaustion.

A set of stairs along the wall granted him access to the ramparts. He probably wasn’t supposed to be allowed access. Nobody stopped him. A number of guards were rushing up ahead of him, all brandishing longbows. Vezta, Zullie, and the orcs followed him up, also unimpeded. Vezta did draw a few looks and even an alarmed shout. However, the presence of a monster standing peacefully on the wall paled drastically in comparison to what was lurking in the woods that hugged the road out of the city.

Arkk started to wonder if his confidence in fighting off this force was misplaced.

Multiple ghasts lurked around a large group of raptors and goblins, running counter to Morford’s claims. There weren’t many and they were spread across the rest of this… army? Insects took up the backline. They were larger even than the raptors with thin, spindly legs and large snapping pincers. Others were more bulbous in shape, drooling caustic yellow slime. Arkk didn’t know much about insect colonies like this, unfortunately. He had no clue what they were capable of.

It was a small consolation that this army numbered fewer than the horde of goblins that had attacked Langleey Village. There had been two hundred goblins in that encounter, though about half of them had fled once Ilya and the other villagers returned to offer support. This wasn’t even half as large. Maybe not even a third of the size. With the ghasts, raptors, and insects, he felt he would rather have faced off against four hundred goblins instead.

At the lead of the army, one ghast stood in front of the rest. One with bright red eyes, ominously glowing in the dark storm.

 

 

 

Arkk was no stranger to being out in the middle of a storm. Really bad storms didn’t happen around Langleey more than a few times a year. When they did occur, they tended to do so at unpredictable moments. If he was in the village, it was typically a time for staying indoors and doing little else. Sometimes, however, they happened while he and Ilya were out hunting, forcing them to seek shelter—and often forcing them to head home should the winds have ripped their camp down.

This storm was the first Arkk could recall in which he ventured out into it willingly.

The soakless solution on the cloaks helped a lot. The rain didn’t quite avoid them, but it was the next closest thing. If not for the humidity in the air, he wouldn’t have felt much different than on a chill day. Watching the water run down his front without drenching him brought a little spark of joy as he started thinking back to that treatise on alchemy, wondering if he would be able to make something like this in the future. If Arkk had known this was possible, he would have tried to find an alchemist a long time ago to treat his clothes.

Though, until recently, he wouldn’t have been able to afford it.

Checking over his shoulder, he was pleased to note that all three of his orcs were looking much happier, outfitted in their own cloaks. Morford walked a short distance away, moving with their group without being a complete part of it.

Turning his attention forward again, Arkk frowned. “Damn. She must have been beyond the walls before I started tracking her.”

The street they just stepped on was near the edge of Darkwood Burg. A thick stone wall stood tall at the end of the street, blocking progress forward. While Arkk could see the ethereal glow of Gretchen in the distance, he hadn’t been able to tell what was between them. This had simply been the most direct path from the alchemist’s shop to Gretchen.

“Is there a gate nearby?” Arkk asked, looking to Morford.

The alchemist looked around as if to double-check where they were, then nodded. “Follow me,” they whispered before walking along the street they had just come from.

The nearest gate took longer to reach than Arkk had been hoping for. He knew from the first time he had successfully performed the tracking ritual that it wouldn’t last forever. He didn’t know exactly how long that was, but if it started to fade before they reached Gretchen, he would do nothing to try to restart it. He couldn’t risk that.

Not with what happened to the stag.

The gate was locked tight, protected by miserable guards trying to take cover from the rain in the small alcoves on either side of the larger wooden structure. A few happier guards hung out near the guardhouse, safe under its awnings. As miserable as the others looked, the ones positioned on the ramparts had to be in a worse state of mind, not even having a wall to block some of the rain. The alchemist, in far more of a hurry than Arkk was even with the time limitations on his ritual, rushed up and began speaking with one of the guards. Their conversation concluded before Arkk could finish walking up.

“They will allow us out,” Morford whispered as the guard pulled the latches on the smaller door set within the larger gate.

“I know what I said back in the tavern about following your orders… We’re really going out in this?” Dakka grumbled, first glancing at the dark clouds overhead and then at Arkk.

He wasn’t particularly happy about it either. Perhaps he should have taken everything the alchemist owned instead of just the soakless solution.

Dakka’s shield was on her back, over her cloak. As she ducked through the relatively small door, she drew her axe, holding it firm in two hands. The other orcs followed suit, drawing their weapons. Orjja wielded a large mace with thick triangular protrusions coming off the bulbous end. Farr’an, apparently having taken up tutelage under Olatt’an, wielded a crossbow with a nasty blade on the end.

Arkk had his daggers but planned to use lightning almost exclusively if something started a fight.

The alchemist followed up in the rear, brandishing no obvious weapons but took a moment to adjust a number of vials on a bandolier. Some contained colored liquid, others clear liquid, and others still looked more like they contained miniature clouds. Arkk was curious, but not so much so that he hoped one of the Darkwood’s monsters would come charging out and force the alchemist to reveal just what was in those stoppered bottles.

Outside the burg, thankfully on the side of the town that faced away from the majority of the forest even if some of it did wrap around and follow alongside the road, Arkk could see the ethereal glow of Gretchen in the distance. It didn’t look like she was making good time, trudging away with heavy steps. From her posture, hazy though it was to his eyes, he guessed that she was wrapped up tight in her cloak.

It hadn’t occurred to Arkk to try to scry on her as scrying on someone invisible was fairly useless. Now, he wondered if that cloak was her invisibility cloak or a regular one that she had switched to for the travel.

Drawing his crystal ball from its pouch, he looked down and focused. Unable to tell how far away to look from the tracking spell alone, he focused on himself first then dragged the view in the crystal ball toward Gretchen’s position. After a few moments of seeing nothing, Arkk almost put the crystal ball away. Movement in its smooth surface made him pause. A few quick flashes of the view changing had him close enough to see what they might be dealing with.

“Wolves,” he said, drawing the attention of the others even as they hurried along the path away from Darkwood Burg.

A small pack. Six that he could see. All things considered, a pack of wolves wasn’t the worst thing to face. Even better, while in the rough direction of Gretchen, they didn’t seem to be actively hunting her. The heavy rain probably played havoc on their senses, drowning out footsteps and washing away smells in the air. Still, they were in her direction and that alone posed a mild danger. Most wolves wouldn’t just maul a person for no reason, but if they were hungry enough?

Arkk had everyone pick up the pace.

A few wolves weren’t a problem. So long as they were far enough away from him when he spotted them, he could likely take them out on his own. Having seen the results of the orcs on their first mercenary job, that of culling a few out-of-control wolves that had been harassing a village, he was willing to bet that Dakka alone could take them on, let alone all three orcs and him. That was assuming the wolves would fight at all rather than run off once faced with a threat they couldn’t handle. Arkk figured that just them showing up would see them back to the woods.

With them running and Gretchen stumbling through the mud, they made decent progress relative to her. It was quite a ways away, far enough that Darkwood Burg looked like a little brown box against the backdrop of the thick Darkwoods. Had Gretchen managed to get her hands on a horse, catching up would have been a much more difficult ordeal. As it was, it just took some good old-fashioned hustle.

In the distance, he thought he could see her. The actual Gretchen, not the ethereal tracking spell. The crystal ball must have been too small to see properly, but there was an odd haze in the air. A person-shaped bubble where the rainwater hit and ran off, leaving a space in the air. As impressive as the invisibility cloak was, it did not work perfectly in the rain.

He could see the wolves as well, lurking off in the woods a short distance away from the path. As Arkk expected, their hasty approach startled the small pack, sending them away.

“Gretchen!” the alchemist said, apparently having seen the same distortion in the air that Arkk had. Their voice was still a whisper, but a raised one filled with a harsh rasp.

The haze, and the ethereal glow coming from within, froze.

“She knows we can see her, right?” Dakka said, loud enough that it was meant for Gretchen to hear.

There was a long pause before Gretchen reached up and pulled her hood down. “I told you not to follow me,” she said, looking about ready to cry. Maybe she was crying. With the rain, it was hard to tell.

“I might have listened to your wishes had you left on any other day.” Morford stepped forward, only for Gretchen to step back. The alchemist stopped moving as soon as she did so. “Today? What were you thinking? You know the dangers—”

Six heads snapped to the south of the road as a baying cry started and silenced in the same short second. An instant later, four of the wolves from earlier bolted out from the tree line straight toward their group. The lightning spell on Arkk’s tongue died as he watched the four wolves, two of whom were splattered with blood, run straight past them, heading into one of the recently emptied fields.

A new noise followed in the wake of the wolves, drawing everyone’s attention back to the trees. Arkk had a hard time identifying just what that noise was supposed to be. A howl? A shout? Laughter? It sounded distinctly human and yet animalistic at the same time.

Whatever it was, it sent a chill up his spine.

“We cannot be out here,” the alchemist whispered, grasping hold of Gretchen’s invisible shoulders. “Back to the burg. Quickly.”

“And put our back to that sound?” Arkk asked, watching as Morford forced a protesting Gretchen along the road.

“Better to be near the wall than caught in the open.”

“Caught by what?” Dakka asked, glowering at the trees.

“Ghasts,” the alchemist said. “Quickly.”

None of them made it more than five steps before that chittering howl started again. It was louder now. Closer. Arkk narrowed his eyes, looking at the trees. With the heavy clouds overhead diminishing what little light made it through the trees and the rain making it even harder to see, he didn’t spot the source of the sound.

“What is a ghast?” Arkk asked, moving once again. Even Gretchen wasn’t protesting now.

“Beasts created for war,” Morford whispered without looking back. “We do not wish to encounter even a single one.”

“Created?”

This time, the alchemist’s beak-like mask turned. Not fully. They still kept their hands on Gretchen’s shoulders as they rushed along the path. “This forest has played home to a plethora of unpleasant guests over its lifetime. Necromancers, warlocks, vampires, and others besides. This dark forest contains numerous ancient evils.

“The ghasts are creations of a life alchemist attempting to design a being that could conquer the kingdom. I dare say he might have succeeded if he hadn’t been consumed by his creations before he could learn to control them. It is what initially drew my interest to this area.”

“You wanted to conquer the kingdom?”

“I wanted knowledge. What would I do with a kingdom?” The alchemist managed to inject incredulity into their whisper.

Shaking his head, Arkk looked to the forest again and decided to ask a slightly more immediately important question. “Are they immune to lightning?”

“I do not know. They were created for war and all that entails.”

Although Arkk talked to every single person who passed through Langleey Village, learning more about the world beyond the farms, he had little clue about what, exactly, war entailed. Obviously, people fighting each other. Soldiers, weapons, knights, and spellcasters. Zullie had taught him the academy-approved lightning spell and it was fairly long-winded, but if a row of spellcasters was protected by a frontline of soldiers, they would be able to cast it with relative freedom.

But did they? Would a man who wanted to conquer the kingdom have prepared his creations for lightning spells in specific?

Arkk gnawed at his lip as another cackling howl echoed from the trees.

This time, he saw something. A dark shape, shadowed by the heavy birch and pine trees. The silhouette shuddered with great, heaving breaths as it stood hunched over with long arms dangling down to its legs. Arkk opened his mouth, the incantation for lightning on his lips, but the creature disappeared behind another copse of trees before he could get a single syllable out.

“It is watching us,” he said instead.

“All the more reason to hurry,” Morford said, drawing a vial of dark red liquid and holding it tight in one hand.

“If we reach the walls and they don’t let us in because we’re being chased, doesn’t that just mean that we’ll be up against that wall with nowhere to run?”

“You would rather face it out here?”

“I would rather not face it at all if I’m being honest. How likely is it to attack us? Do they travel in packs?”

“There won’t be more. They are aggressively territorial toward their own kind,” Morford whispered, looking off into the trees. “Another failure by their creator. As for how likely it is to attack? I’m surprised it isn’t attacking already.”

Arkk started to ask another question, only to freeze as he caught sight of the creature once again. It chittered, wheezing behind one of the trees. He could see it better now. Closer to leaving the forest, it was in the light enough for Arkk to grimace in revulsion. Hairless with skin a ghastly gray, it looked like a human with distorted proportions. Its eyes were tiny relative to its head and it lacked both a nose and ears, having only thin slits in their places. It lacked lips as well, leaving gums and far too many teeth visible as the skin was drawn back around its maw. Red glistened off its teeth.

Blood from one of the wolves?

It elicited a feeling of revulsion similar to what he had experienced the first time he saw one of the lesser servants. It wasn’t quite the same but it was a feeling of wrongness. The creature near the trees just shouldn’t be.

“Electro Deus,” Arkk intoned.

Even as he built up magic at the tips of his fingers, he didn’t fire the spell.

The eyes of the monster changed. Formerly a beady white, the moment Arkk finished his incantation, they glowed a luminous red. A familiar red. Its entire posture shifted, moving from a hunched back to a straightened back. The laughing wheeze vanished.

Arkk’s eyes widened, then narrowed immediately. Not sure that he could do it on demand, he drew on as much irritation as he could manage; the rain, the waste of time this trip had been, the delay in returning to the fortress, and the other bounty hunters. All his feelings focused on a point.

An external view of himself using his connection to his employees showed his eyes flashing red. It didn’t last long. A few seconds at most.

It was enough.

The ghast, the possessed ghast, stilled for a long moment. Its large thighs and digitigrade legs made it look like it was better suited for leaping, yet it took a single step forward.

Farr’an readied his crossbow and the alchemist raised the vial in his hand, ready to throw.

“Wait!” Arkk said, holding up a hand. Aside from that single step, the ghast wasn’t moving. Just watching.

“Wait?” Morford hissed. “I’ve seen the red-eyed ones before. They’re smarter and far more vicious.”

“Orjja, Farr’an, escort Gretchen and Morford back to town. Dakka, with me.”

Everyone hesitated at Arkk’s orders. He could see Dakka’s glance at him over his shoulder.

“You sure about that, boss?”

“No. But…” Arkk took a breath, not blinking as he kept his eyes on the monster. It still wasn’t moving toward them, just watching and waiting. “But yes. Do it.”

Orjja and Farr’an still hesitated. Morford and Gretchen did not. Jerking his head got the orcs moving. Arkk waited a few moments for them to put some distance between them before he cautiously approached the line of trees. Arkk eyed the monster’s teeth and its long fingers. The fingers were like spider legs, sharp and to a point with thick joints. One of its hands was as red as its face.

But it still didn’t attack.

Arkk kept a distance between them. He might be curious and suspecting that this wasn’t some wild creature, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. Only mostly an idiot.

“Do you speak?” Arkk said, then paused and altered his question. “Maybe I should ask if this body speaks?”

The ghast narrowed its thin eyes even further. When it did speak, its voice gurgled with a wet slop in the back of its throat. “You are the one casting old magic in my domain.” Arkk got a distinct impression that these creatures were not designed to speak as humans did. Or, if they had been designed to speak, this one hadn’t done so in years. Its speech was further hampered by its lack of lips.

“If by old magic you mean a single lightning bolt yesterday, then yes. Otherwise, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

A repetitive clicking came from the back of the ghast’s throat. Arkk wasn’t sure what that meant.

He was curious and wary. The presence of this possessor made Arkk wonder about this forest. All the stories he had been told, from what Hawkwood said back in Cliff to the alchemist just a few moments ago, said that this forest harbored numerous dangerous creatures. It drew the attention of necromancers and life alchemists—whatever those were—and other powerful individuals who all sought refuge within to carry out their plots and research.

Now it was starting to make a little more sense. There was a [HEART] in the forest. One that sounded like it had been claimed many times over the decades.

Was there another of Vezta’s kind out in the forest? Did this claimant know more old magic than Arkk did? Was there a library out there filled with a treasure trove of old books that were more intact than those in Arkk’s library? Would this [HEART] work for Vezta’s ultimate goal or would they have to destroy it?

He was curious. Eager, even. Yet, something gnawed at the back of his mind. It had been gnawing since seeing this creature’s eyes turn red. Arkk wasn’t quite sure what that feeling was, only that it was screaming a single word at him.

Rival.

“Where did you learn?” the gurgling gaunt asked.

“Old magic?” Arkk licked his lips. “A mentor taught me everything she knew. You? You’re using Cranium Internum, correct? Possession.”

Its narrow eyes widened for a moment. “You do know. In my eighty years, I have never met another…”

Arkk did not miss how it didn’t answer his question. He didn’t bring it up. Most of that was an attempt at deflection. Admitting to being another owner of a [HEART] felt dangerous. He would consult with Vezta before saying anything on the subject. Instead, he shrugged. “I am a traveler from afar after a bounty. I wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you. I apologize if you feel I’ve intruded. We were going to leave today, but the storm has delayed us.”

“After feeling the old magic, I set my watchers along the roads. I was preparing to invade the burg, but I suppose that is no longer necessary.”

“Invade?” Arkk said, tension threatening to rip his stomach apart. “Just for me? For a single lightning spell?”

He had been about to ask if the ghast—or the person possessing it—would be willing to sell books on old magic in exchange for gold. Now?

“An old magic practitioner is too rare. I would have you give your knowledge to me.”

“I have a few books,” Arkk said. “Not with me, but—”

“No books,” the ghast said, stepping forward. “I would have you give your knowledge to me.”

Something about the way it spoke made Arkk think that it wasn’t inviting him to a nice sit-down around a cup of tea for a chat about their favorite spells. The way it was looking at him was more akin to something wanting to rip open his mind and consume the contents without any regard for him.

Was that possible to do with possession? Arkk hadn’t tried to do anything similar during his one experiment with the spell, but it did make a little sense. He had been sharing Zullie’s mind.

Something to think about later.

For now…

“Well,” he started, trying to keep as calm as possible. “I suppose I could share my favorite spell right now. Have you heard of… Electro Deus.”

The moment the incantation left his lips, Arkk opened the gateway of his magical power to its fullest. Every scrap of magic he had went into his fingers as he thrust his hand forward. A bolt of lightning burned into his eyes as a deafening thunderclap threatened to throw him to the ground. The air around him lost all moisture as it burned, feeling more like he was standing next to a bonfire rather than out in a rainstorm.

When his eyes finally cleared, the ghast was gone. In a panic, he started looking around, only to turn back to where the ghast had been.

There was a dark cloud there. Shadow given a misty form. As it slowly solidified, a pair of bright red lights appeared in the head of the shadow. The two eyes narrowed into thin slits, forming a glare that lacked any words but promised pain, agony, and ultimate death.

Before Arkk could start the incantation over for a fresh if less powerful bolt of lightning, the shadow whisked away through the trees.

Gone.

Possessing something else? Another ghast? Back to his [HEART]? Arkk didn’t know.

All he did know was that they needed to get out of here. Immediately. Back to the burg, maybe to mount a defense against whatever invasion that Keeper of a Heart had been planning on.

Turning, he noted Dakka’s face twisted in a snarl. She was blinking several times, trying to clear her own eyes from that bright lightning bolt. At the same time, she looked completely ready to chop her axe down through whatever approached.

“Are you okay?”

“Where did it go?” she growled. “Did you get it?”

“I think I got the ghast. Not whatever was possessing it.” Arkk, carefully, grabbed Dakka’s arm and helped lead her back to the road.

Shaking him off, she kept blinking for a few moments before shaking her head. “I’m fine. Just a blind spot straight through the center of my eyes.”

“Sorry. After the alchemist’s comments, I wasn’t sure that a normal lightning bolt would put it down.”

“I wish I could have seen its face,” she grumbled. “Didn’t know who it was messing with, did it?”

“We need to get back and try to convince the guard that a threat is coming,” Arkk said, avoiding her question. It wasn’t like he had given it a fair shot. The ghast probably would have torn him apart if he hadn’t taken it by surprise. If it came back with two ghasts, he doubted he would be able to kill both before they reached him. Not with that powerful of a bolt of lightning, anyway.

Shaking his head, he started running down the path toward the other orcs and humans. He could see they had stopped. Probably because of that thunder. “We need to hurry,” Arkk shouted. “We’ll pick up and carry Morford and Gretchen if we have to.”

Hopefully, the guards could be readied for an invasion.

 

 

 

“We’re not leaving in that are we?”

A flash of lightning illuminated three orcs and a human as they looked out the door of the Darkwood stayover. The low rumbles of the following thunder didn’t manage to overpower the heavy patter of pouring rain.

“I said we would leave at first daylight,” Arkk said with a heavy frown, leading to the orcs grumbling under their breath. Arkk shook his head. Unfortunately, he agreed with them. “It doesn’t look like we’re getting daylight today.”

The light drizzle from the day prior had turned into a full-blown storm overnight. There wasn’t much wind, but the rain and lightning made up for it in droves. Even if he was willing to brave the lightning on the open road, they wouldn’t have gotten far before their cart wheels wound up stuck in the mud.

Closing the door, Arkk looked back to the stayover’s tavern area. His group wasn’t the only one present. Two of the First Legion, one he had hit with a bolt of lightning and one of the ones who had been outside during that confrontation, were glaring in his direction. The Order of the Claymores had two seated with them, both glaring as well even though Arkk had done nothing to either.

Looking around, Arkk’s frown only deepened. With the storm, it looked like everyone who could get away with it was staying inside. There were two other tables with a mixture of bounty hunter organizations. Both tables were glaring in his direction as well, though not to quite the same intensity as the First Legion. It did make him wonder what kind of rumors had flown about the tavern since the day before.

“Try not to start anything, but I guess we’ve got the day off,” Arkk whispered before heading over to the counter. The stayover proprietor had a large pot of soup being kept warm over some embers. He overpaid for a bowl and then headed to the one occupied table that wasn’t glaring daggers at him.

“Mind if I sit here?” Arkk said.

This table only had two others seated. A middle-aged man with graying hair and a younger woman who might have been his daughter with vibrant brown, almost orange hair. Arkk, however, was more interested in their clothes at the moment. The man wore a fine green vest held together with polished wooden toggles. The woman had a black dress with fur trim and a deep blue sleeveless jacket worn open.

Not the sort of clothes peasants or even mercenaries wore around often.

As long as he was trapped here, he might as well try to learn something.

“Arkk,” Arkk said, introducing himself as the older man nodded his agreement to Arkk’s request. “Leader of Company Al-Mir.”

“A free company?”

Arkk nodded his head. “More or less.” Mostly less. Free companies were typically mercenaries hired for war and little else. There wasn’t currently a war going on anywhere around the Duchy of Mystakeen and Arkk had no intentions of getting involved in one should one start.

“Aron Wolf,” he said, extending a hand. “Wolf Trading Company. My daughter, Arianna Wolf.”

“Charmed,” Arkk said, only to be met with rolling eyes. Paying Arianna little mind, Arkk turned his attention back to Aron. “You’re merchants? Trading in the ebon wood, I presume.”

“Merchants?” Aron said with a chuckle. “That’s a bit small for what we do, but not inaccurate, I suppose. And yes. Ebony wood is in quite high demand across the great states and even beyond the kingdom’s borders. I just purchased the local lumber mill and plan on expanding it to double its output.”

Arkk nodded along, slowly eating his soup as he listened to the merchant discuss all his plans for the area. Aron had a lot to say on the subject. Enough so that Arkk imagined he took great enjoyment from both the financial and logistical side of his business but never got a chance to discuss such things with others. In truth, Arkk wasn’t at all interested in wood trade. Not even if it was rare and fancy wood. Still, he politely nodded along until he found an opportunity to ask a question of much higher interest.

“Have you ever been to Cliff?”

“Oh of course,” Aron said with an easy smile before lightly patting his daughter’s back. “We have a home there, though the servants seem to live there more than we do these days. We’re planning on building here this coming year as well, though in truth, we spend most of our time traveling between the larger cities.”

“You travel yourself? For the trade? I figured you hire people to do that for you.”

Aron hesitated but nodded his head. “That is true. I have some people working for me. But I always like to meet with my clients personally. If you want something done right, do it yourself! That’s what my father always said,” he added with a laugh.

Arkk wasn’t sure if it was the laugh or what he said, but Arianna shot her father a withering look before slowly shaking her head. “You won’t be able to keep that up, Father,” she said, tone clipped. “Especially with this latest expansion.”

“And that is why you’re here learning,” Aron said with a full smile. “I can’t think of anyone better suited to represent Wolf Trading Company than a Wolf.”

Watching her flat look, Arkk asked, “Not interested in the family business?”

“Not by half.”

“Nonsense!” Aron rubbed his daughter’s shoulder. “You’ve a sharp mind, my dear. When I turn the company over to you, I know you’ll take it to new heights!”

“Because I know how to delegate,” she said, arms crossed in a huff. “If we weren’t traveling constantly, we could get so much more done. And we would have time to relax and socialize among other elites, people who would bring in more money when they buy our wares.”

“Mister Arkk is the leader of a free company and he is traveling,” Aron said, turning fully toward his daughter. “He understands the importance of a personal touch.”

“A free company carries out vastly different tasks than a trading company,” Arianna said, voice firm. “Not to mention, Mister Arkk must certainly understand the importance of delegation. You do have more than three orcs under your command, do you not?”

“That is true,” Arkk said. “Al-Mir is undertaking several different tasks at the moment. Magical research, exploration, mercenary jobs, recruitment, and others.” Saying it like that made it sound far more grandiose than a few people running around without a clue what they were doing.

“You must be here because this is either a job of great import, it is something you don’t trust underlings to handle, or it is something that only you can accomplish. Correct?”

Arkk decided to nod his head in agreement, more to see where she was going with this than because she was entirely accurate. Finding Gretchen was something others could have done and he even trusted them to do so, it was just that everyone he did trust to do this was busy with other things. Vezta was working on the portal, Olatt’an and Ilya were heading toward her home, and Rekk’ar had to remain with the other orcs at the fortress. Technically, he could have sent Dakka on her own…

He probably would have wound up with Gretchen dragged back to the fortress against her will. As much as he didn’t want to do that himself, a traitorous corner of his mind thought it might have been the preferable outcome. He still doubted he would have turned her over to her father but access to that invisibility cloak might have been worth making an enemy of some viscount’s daughter.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get to see where Arianna was headed with her train of thought.

The door to the stayover flung open, letting chill, moist air into the warm tavern. Standing in the doorway, the alchemist’s beaked mask slowly turned from one side of the room to the other. As soon as the dark lenses of their mask stopped on Arkk, Morford began moving with haste.

Arkk had to admire the alchemist’s cloak. It wasn’t that thick, but the rainwater just rolled off it. As soon as they took their first step into the tavern, it was like they had never been in the rain at all. Their cloak was as dry as if it had been hung in front of a fire for hours.

“I would speak with you,” the alchemist whispered upon reaching the table.

“You’re late. I said daybreak.”

“That’s not…” The alchemist clenched their fist, holding out a small scrap of parchment.

Raising an eyebrow, Arkk took it and quickly skimmed the few short sentences. “She’s gone?”

“Didn’t want to cause me further disturbance,” the alchemist whispered, referencing a line in the scribbled note. “When I woke this morning, she was gone.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to do about this. I already said I wasn’t going to force her to do anything if she didn’t want to.”

“You must find her. I… I cannot match the viscount’s price, but I can pay.” Arkk tried to get a word in, but the alchemist held up a hand. Although their voice still came out in a whisper, the intensity behind it spoke of their fear. “She cannot be out today. The storm… Days like these are the most dangerous around Darkwood. The times of year when the walls are put to the test. If she has left the burg, she will be torn to pieces at best.”

“Even with the cloak?”

“The inability to see will not affect creatures that hunt by sound and smell.”

“It certainly affects my ability to find her,” Arkk said as his hand drifted toward the crystal ball hanging from his waist. “I know a tracking ritual. If she hasn’t gotten far, it might work—I’m not sure how it would interact with the invisibility cloak. I suppose it is worth a shot. I need a part of her. Hair, blood, maybe a few threads from the clothing she is wearing. Anything like that will work.”

The beaked mask dipped as the alchemist sagged in relief. “I will scour my home. There must be something left behind.”

“Hurry. I don’t know exactly how far the tracking ritual can reach, only that it has limits. If she is beyond those limits, finding her will be nearly impossible. We’ll meet you at your workshop.” It was about halfway between the stayover and the alchemist’s house.

“I will be there.”

“As for pay,” Arkk started before the alchemist could run. They stiffened, freezing as the dark lenses of their mask locked onto Arkk. “Treat some of our gear with that soakless solution and we’ll call it even.”

“That’s it? That is worth a few dozen silvers at best.”

“Are you really arguing?”

The alchemist stared for a moment more before turning without a word. They didn’t quite walk straight as they moved to the door, moving with a limp in their gait. Arkk watched until the door slammed behind them before he stood and looked back to the two who he had shared a table with.

“Did I understand that correctly?” Arianna said, staring with wide eyes. “Some foolish girl ran off into the storm? Around Darkwood? Even we have heard the rumors…”

“It seems work is calling,” was all Arkk said, offering a wan smile. “I’d love to chat more, but don’t know if we’ll run into each other again here. Will you be back in Cliff anytime soon?”

Arianna and Aron simply stared until the former clacked her jaw together.

“There are monsters—ghasts among other things—out in the forest.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Arianna added to her father’s statement.

“As you said, a free company has remarkably different duties compared to a trading company.”

“In exchange for soakless solution?”

“Company Al-Mir is excessively wealthy. Besides, who said I am doing this for nothing?” Arkk grinned. “What I hope to get out of this little job is worth far more than anything that alchemist could come up with. It isn’t always about coin.”

Aron shuddered, but stood up, extending a hand once again. “Well said, my boy. Well said indeed. Saving a poor lost girl is a noble cause.” He gave Arkk a far firmer grip on his handshake this time around. “If you do make it back to Cliff, the House of Wolf would be honored to see you as a guest. Our manor is in the trade district. Large wolf emblem on the gates. Can’t miss it. If we aren’t there, I’ll instruct the servants to admit you so you might leave a missive. I would be most interested in hearing how this turns out.”

“I’ll be happy to tell you. Good day,” Arkk said as he turned to the rest of the room.

Most of the room had eyes on him once again. They had probably been staring since the alchemist arrived. Arkk paid them little mind, looking to his employees. They had eyes on him as well.

“Time to go,” Arkk said.

“Into the storm?” Orjja grumbled. “Thought we had the day off.”

Dakka punched Orjja in the shoulder as she stood, shooting the other orc a glare. “Boss said it’s time to go. It is time to go,” she said, then leaned down to whisper something into Orjja’s ear.

Arkk didn’t catch what was said, but he did catch the way Orjja’s skin changed to a sickly shade of green. He hadn’t thought that was possible. Whatever Dakka said, it got Orjja practically sprinting to the door. Farr’an didn’t need any extra encouragement. He simply downed the rest of his bowl of soup before following Orjja out.

“Good luck,” Arianna said just as Arkk reached the door behind Dakka. He smiled even as she turned aside and added, “Idiot.”

“What’d you say to Orjja?” Arkk asked as he stepped out into the pouring rain.

He hated everything about accepting the job the moment he felt the water soak into his cloak. It took consoling himself with the promise of the alchemist’s soakless solution to continue walking.

Dakka didn’t seem to mind, though the rain was making the dark paint under her eyes start to run down her cheeks. “Just reminded her what happens to people who displease you.”

“What happens to people who displease me?” Arkk asked, genuinely curious as to the answer.

“They get hung outside burgs as a warning to others. Or experimented upon with new magic.”

Arkk shot her a dark look. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t threaten my employees with death. Unless they’re trying to summon demons or run off to raid villages, I’m not going to kill her. Or any of you.”

Dakka didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “It got her moving.”

“I don’t want you all afraid of me.”

“I’m not. I doubt Rekk’ar or the Ripthroat are either. Those who you rescued from the prison room probably aren’t too afraid. The rest?”

Orjja had been one of two that Dakka had wanted to convince to change sides and the only one of those two who had survived that particular skirmish. Arkk wasn’t sure how early she had surrendered, but Dakka was probably counting her among ‘the rest’ for this.

“Just… Dakka, as my field commander, try not to traumatize them. That gives them more reason to desert or rebel.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to reject that order.”

“What? Wh—”

“We were in a crowded tavern. You do not want your employees disrespecting you or fighting against you in public. It undermines your authority, makes you look weak, and instills more thoughts of rebellion than a good threat would. Orcs don’t respect that. If someone is talking back, you should just punch them.” Dakka looked down, eyes roving over Arkk’s arms. “Or hit them with a lightning bolt.”

Arkk took in a breath and let it back out slowly. She… had a point there. Although… “Are we including you in that, Miss Reject-that-order?”

Dakka stiffened, lips pressed together as much as orc anatomy would allow, hiding most of her tusks. “Uh… no, Sir. Not me, Sir.”

“Relax. I’m not going to punish you for explaining yourself,” Arkk said maybe a little too quickly, but he didn’t want her to regress to the stiff Dakka that had been with him and Ilya on the first day of their journey to Cliff. “You know orcs better than I do. I’ll leave them to you to handle. Just try to keep the threats, direct or implied, to a minimum.”

“Very good, Sir.”

Arkk let out a small groan, one muffled by a roll of thunder. Deciding to let the matter drop for the moment, he kept silent until they reached the alchemist’s workshop. The door was locked but the roof hung a bit over the door, letting them keep mostly out of the rain.

It wasn’t long before the alchemist came limping back with a crystal phial in hand. Within, he had a single curly white hair.

Arkk and the orcs handed over their cloaks for treatment. While the alchemist shoved them into a large cauldron and began pouring liquids inside, Arkk took a stick of chalk and started sketching out the tracking ritual.

An unpleasant tightness formed in his stomach as he looked over the lines. He hadn’t used the ritual even once since using it to kill the orc’s former chieftain. Even now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to use it. If he pushed a bit too much magic into the ritual, Gretchen might not have a chance to be torn apart by the monsters of Darkwood.

Knowing she probably would be torn apart if he didn’t perform the ritual, Arkk took a breath and stepped into the circle.

He pushed minuscule amounts of magic into it, slowly and carefully building it up until he felt the ritual complete. The hair in the triangular section of the circle began glowing with that ethereal translucency that he knew could be seen through walls.

Slowly, Arkk turned in place until he spotted a much larger mass in the distance beyond the alchemy workshop.

“Got her,” Arkk said.

 

 

“To summarize,” Arkk said, rubbing the side of his forehead. “Your father wants to marry you off and you object, so you ran away.”

Gretchen, seated on an old wicker stool, nodded with a hefty scowl wrinkling her face. “It isn’t just marry me off. I might have been happy to do it if it was someone agreeable. Earl Pritchard is eighty-five, has had six wives, and three of those wives have died in what I might call suspicious circumstances.” She shook her head. “The age difference alone is enough to make me vomit. I might have been able to put up with it for a few years if it meant I was able to claim his estate—he has no heirs—but I don’t intend to die for it.”

Arkk just frowned. “I assume the Earl offered something to your father in exchange?”

“Maybe. Maybe he’s just doing an old friend a favor.”

“Would he be open to alternate offers?”

Gretchen, who had been listlessly stirring a bowl of stew, froze as she shot Arkk an appraising look.

“Not for marriage!” Arkk said the moment he realized what he said. “I wouldn’t marry you.”

Gretchen huffed. “Well.”

“Not…” Arkk held up both hands, index fingers slightly raised more than the rest. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure you’re a lovely woman but I don’t know you at all.”

“That hardly seems to be a requirement,” Gretchen said, scowl deepening. “I’ve never even met Earl Pritchard.”

“It matters to me. I would pay your father a great deal of money to not marry you.”

Gretchen’s eyes flashed in irritation. Dakka just started chuckling behind Arkk.

Arkk, rubbing his neck, cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that I want to take you back to your father. As someone who thinks he has a proper sense of morality—not to mention a growing dislike for almost everyone I’ve heard of with a noble title—I don’t want to force you back. Especially if it means you’ll get… murdered?”

“How considerate,” Gretchen said, tone utterly flat.

“The Viscount clearly intends to collect more than he is offering for Gretchen’s return,” the alchemist said in a whisper. “You can pay that and more?”

“I’m… independently wealthy.”

“Why?”

Arkk blinked at Gretchen’s question. “Why… am I wealthy?”

“Why spend all this wealth on me? Especially if you don’t intend to… marry me.”

“Oh.” Arkk shrugged. “I need the renown.”

“Renown?”

“Clout. Prestige. Glory. Fame. Notability. Whatever you call it, I need it. The Duke has these parties every so often and I want in. Returning victorious with a viscount’s kidnapped daughter sounded like a great way to get my foot in the door.”

Disgust crossed Gretchen’s features as she looked from Arkk to Dakka and back. “You want to go to one of those parties? I’ve been twice and neither time has been particularly pleasant.”

“My best friend’s mother was taken by the Duke. We want to get her back. That’s the best idea we’ve got right now.”

“I’m… so sorry.”

“We found her,” Arkk hurried to reassure her. “She’s safe. We just can’t get to her. Or get her out of there.” He was about to ask about the circumstances under which Gretchen might be willing to return to her father, only to pause as a thought occurred to him. “Could your father get us into one of those parties? Or would helping him even help us? I guess I should ask that. If the answer is no, there is no point in even talking about this any further.”

Gretchen didn’t answer right away, frowning to herself as she resumed stirring her stew. She hadn’t offered Arkk, Dakka, or even the alchemist any. While it smelled alright, he had eaten before setting out for the alchemist’s workshop and would have refused the offer anyway.

“You are doing a job for my father. He is not the kind of person to recognize achievements in service. You’ll get your pay and he’ll send you on your way.” Gretchen paused, ate a spoonful of stew, then continued. “I’m not just saying that to get you to leave me alone either. It’s the truth.”

Arkk sighed, leaning back against the wall of the small cottage. Had this all been a waste of time? Although for the wrong reasons, Rekk’ar might have been right in rejecting this job outright.

Taking the lull in conversation to think, he spent a moment checking in on his other employees and Fortress Al-Mir. Rekk’ar was in a training room, apparently instructing the few orcs who were still at the fortress. Five others were camping out in the highlands, accompanied by an elf and a human. They were the group headed to that ancient pyramid. Arkk didn’t necessarily expect anything to come of that expedition, but so long as no real incidents occurred, it was a good way to get the orcs some exercise.

Ilya and Olatt’an’s group of ten were on a small riverboat. It had been over two weeks since they set off for the Marrowlands Fen and they had only just arrived in the general area in the last day. Increasingly worried about them, Arkk had been checking in at regular intervals. He didn’t think there was much he could do to assist from a distance if they did wind up in trouble, but checking on them made him feel marginally better.

Vezta and Zullie were both in the fortress, together at that, inside the room with the large crystal archway. It was the portal, he knew, or at least it had been at one point in time. Arkk wasn’t quite sure how Zullie was going to help with that. Vezta seemed like the kind of person capable of accomplishing her task on her own, but then again, Vezta had already admitted a deficiency in magical knowledge.

How soon would he be able to open the portal? Vezta had mentioned potential assistance coming from the other side. Beings and boons granted by the Cloak of Shadows and other members of her [PANTHEON]. With this plan to rapidly boost their renown being a bust, he started considering what his next plan might look like.

According to Vezta, the [PANTHEON] would be able to grant remote extensions to his territory. Arkk wasn’t quite sure what form that would come in, but if he could plant an extension within range of Cliff, thus allowing for teleportation out of the city, hiring Alya would be all he needed to teleport her out of the Duke’s manor. Of course, that meant he still needed to reach her. Or someone he was associated with, so long as an agreement for service occurred on his behalf.

Arkk jolted out of his reflections on his other employees, startled by Dakka clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Your eyes were red,” she whispered, nodding her head toward the other two in the room.

“Honestly didn’t realize my eyes were open,” Arkk whispered back as he took in the wary look of alarm on Gretchen’s face. The alchemist’s face was still covered by their full mask, but Arkk read their readiness for fight-or-flight in their posture. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I was just thinking.”

“Does that happen often?” the alchemist whispered.

“Increasingly,” Dakka said.

Arkk just shrugged. He was about to say something when he felt a strong tug on the link between him and his employees. Jolting, fearing that Ilya had run into trouble, he followed the link only to find himself drawn to Orjja, standing just outside the small shack. With a wince, he realized that he should have invited the other two inside once it became clear that Gretchen wasn’t going to try running if only to keep his employees out of the rain.

When he noticed the reason for Orjja tugging on the link, he realized what a stroke of luck it was that he had left them out there.

People were approaching the shack.

Not just any people, but ones he recognized from the stayover. Other bounty hunters and mercenaries.

Arkk started wondering how they were here only to grimace as realization hit. While following the alchemist, he hadn’t bothered trying to hide, secure in knowing that the alchemist wouldn’t be able to notice them. Someone else would have been able to follow him without trouble. And of course people would. After having asked around at the stayover, people knew that he was after Gretchen just as much as any of them.

“It appears as if we have company,” Arkk said, guessing that his eyes had flashed red again based on the expressions around him. Ignoring them, Arkk pulled out the crystal ball. While his employee vision was useful, it wasn’t as versatile as a proper crystal ball. “Five armed men, all bearing an emblem of… is that a goose?”

Dakka, peering down into the crystal ball, shrugged. “Ferocious creatures.”

“I guess.”

“Time to go, I suppose?”

Arkk nodded his head, pushing off from the wall he had been leaning against. He froze as he spotted the horrified look on Gretchen’s face.

“You’re leaving? Just like that?” she asked, voice tense.

Arkk grimaced. There had been nothing here for him in the first place. Now knowing that, there was no reason to stick around any longer or get into a fight with a group of bounty hunters that, as a fellow mercenary, he should theoretically be at least on speaking terms with. Even if he fought them off, word would spread and others would show up eventually.

“I feel bad about leading them here, but… Can’t you just hide under your cloak like you had been planning when I showed up?” Arkk asked with a small sigh.

With what the Viscount was offering for her return, anyone looking for her wasn’t likely to leave this building or the alchemist in peace if they thought either were relevant. She wouldn’t have been able to stay hidden forever. With him having dragged bounty hunters to her doorstep, the time she had left shrank abruptly.

Gretchen knew that as well. He could see it in her eyes.

“Maybe I could claim you as my bounty, getting rid of them for now, then have you escape on the way to Cliff?”

Gretchen bit her lip, shooting a look at the alchemist. There was something in her eyes there as well, making Arkk wonder if some romance had blossomed since running away from her father. It would help explain this house she lived in. It was either the alchemist’s home or simply one they had been able to procure for Gretchen. Arkk wasn’t sure which.

“Can she trust you?” the alchemist whispered, stepping closer.

“If I still wanted to take her back to her father at this point, I wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“Why not hire them?” Dakka asked absently, drawing her axe as she peered into the crystal ball. “Nobody would find them in the fortress.”

The idea had occurred to Arkk. The alchemist in particular had skills that he was sure he could make use of. Especially if he could make a top-of-the-line potion brewery using the fortress magic. Gretchen, however, didn’t have any skills he thought he would need. Not that skill was a requirement to be hired, but it was a factor. “I can’t just hire everyone I come across,” Arkk said, shaking his head. There was a much bigger reason why he couldn’t just hire everyone he spotted. “The alchemist has a shop here. They have lives here—”

“Had,” Dakka said. At his pointed look, she gave an unapologetic shrug. “They’re almost here. Better at least hide for now if you don’t want to get caught.”

With one last gnawing of her lips, Gretchen rushed to the rack and threw her invisibility cloak over herself.

“Dakka, stand in the corner, leaning against the wall. Gretchen, hide behind her. That will keep them from bumping into you.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Dakka said, moving to the wall. Her large hand felt around in the air until it bumped into something solid. Nodding, she angled herself such that there was a small corner behind her where Gretchen could stand.

“Alchemist,” Arkk said, pulling out the wrapped treatise that he had bought earlier.

“Morford.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name. Morford. If you’re helping, might as well have you call me by name.”

Arkk nodded slowly, waiting a moment. This seemed like the kind of situation where the alchemist would pull off their mask and reveal themselves. When they didn’t, Arkk continued. “Is this your home?”

“It is.”

Arkk frowned at that. In the time he had been observing the alchemist in search of Gretchen, the alchemist hadn’t left their shop. They slept there and took meals there, mostly delivered by Gretchen. Assuming that they had been steering clear of the place for her sake, Arkk shrugged. “You invited me here to tutor me. We’ll—”

Two heavy thumps against the door rattled the entire small home. Arkk quickly crossed the floor, taking up Gretchen’s stool. He opened the treatise to a random page as if he had been reading from it and, leaving it open on his lap, picked up the half-eaten bowl of stew. As he did so, the alchemist, Morford, crossed the room and opened the door just as they had done when Arkk had been the one knocking.

Unlike when Arkk had knocked, those on the other side of the door forced it open the moment the alchemist undid the latch.

Three men barged in. The other two, he knew, were outside in a tense standoff with Orjja and Farr’an. Neither side had come to blows yet, but it wouldn’t take much to set them off.

“Where is she?” one of the bounty hunters asked. They didn’t have anything like the White Company’s uniforms. Just the goose emblem somewhere on their outfits. If Arkk had passed them on the street, he doubted he would have looked twice at them. The only reason Arkk recognized them as bounty hunters was that he had seen them in the stayover. He had spoken to the bald one on the left, asking about Gretchen.

“She?” Morford whispered, masked face shifting to the side.

“They must be talking about Gretchen,” Arkk said with a frown. “The First Legion, was it?” A grandiose name considering they were just a small group. From what Arkk had gathered, there were only ten members in total.

“We know you were looking for her.”

Giving them a flat look, Arkk nodded his head. “Yes. I mentioned that.” Arkk paused, then frowned. “Were you following me in the hopes that I would do your job for you? If the girl had been here, she would have been my bounty. Not yours.”

The apparent leader of the group, a shorter man with a thick mustache, sneered while the other two started poking around the place. It wasn’t a large place. There were only two hiding spots. Under the bed and under the table, the latter of which wouldn’t have saved anyone from one who simply leaned over.

“I heard the alchemist here had contact with Gretchen, but upon finding nothing, I elected to receive some tutoring in the subject of alchemy. It has always interested me,” Arkk said with a half-shrug, keeping his tone cool and casual even as the bounty hunters tried scouring the tiny home.

The First Legion didn’t seem all that impressed or convinced. Hawkwood had warned him about this. A vast number of mercenaries weren’t exactly pleasant people. Thieves trying to claim legitimacy, former soldiers who only knew war, people who wanted an excuse to shove around those weaker than them… For every Hawkwood in the business, patient and willing to help out as he was, there were ten thugs ready to backstab everyone else for a quick coin.

One of the bounty hunters got a bit too close to Dakka. She bared her tusks and, when he didn’t back off, she slammed her fist into his face.

Of the remaining two, one drew a cudgel while the other drew a sword.

“Electro Deus.”

Two lightning bolts leaped from his fingertips, striking each before they could take a step toward Dakka. They weren’t full-power bolts capable of frying them. That didn’t stop their muscles from seizing up, forcing them into heaps with small bits of steam wafting off their rain-soaked clothing.

The alchemist jumped back. He heard a startled squeak from Gretchen behind Dakka. Although Arkk winced at the sound, none of the three were in any state to pay attention to their surroundings.

Interestingly enough, the only one of the three who didn’t get back on their feet in short order was the one Dakka had punched.

“You barge in here, harass us, and thought you might steal my job?” Arkk ignored that he had done practically the same things, minus the last offense. With a shake of his head, he wiggled a finger back and forth, letting the lightning still sparking on the tip do a lot of the talking. “I’ve turned goblins to ash before. That was the least I can do. Attack us again. I dare you.” Arkk paused just long enough for the sparks at his fingertips to die out, then he started again. “Electro De—”

“No! No…” With an angry snarl, muscles in his neck twitching, the leader of the First Legion grabbed the one Dakka had punched and hauled him to his feet. None of the three were entirely steady, but they made their way back to the door and quickly rushed out.

“Nice meeting you!” Arkk called out with forced cheer as the alchemist closed the door. His shoulders slumped the moment they were gone and he let out a long breath. “Making friends already,” he mumbled.

“Friends,” Dakka scoffed. “If you want, we can drag them back for a proper fight. They can’t have gotten far.”

Arkk just shook his head, barely avoiding rolling his eyes at her quip, before settling his gaze on the spot behind Dakka. The orc still hadn’t moved, but the smaller girl behind her had thrown off her hood creating the odd effect of a floating head peering around the side of Dakka’s spiked shield.

Aside from the noise she had made, which hopefully nobody would remember after they had a chance to get their bearings, she had been utterly undetectable. If Dakka hadn’t been standing in the corner, maybe nobody would have walked over there in the first place. She could have hidden there until they left.

Arkk had to wonder at its limitations. Were there spells that could pierce that invisibility? If so, were such spells commonly used? Perhaps not among mercenaries, but among guards of noblemen’s keeps? How hard was it to get an invisibility cloak like that?

Turning his head to the alchemist, who was now peering through a crack in the door, presumably watching the First Legion flee, Arkk considered his earlier question about a soakless solution. Something, presumably, to keep rain from soaking into cloth. “Morford. Is invisibility something that you can brew and apply to cloth like a soakless solution?”

The beaked mask turned first to Gretchen then over to Arkk. Morford didn’t respond right away, going a bit stiff. Arkk had to bite back at his frown, especially once he realized that Gretchen hadn’t come out from around Dakka yet and wasn’t making any move to do so. Rather, she was barely peeking out from around the large shield, looking at Arkk with narrowed eyes.

Was it the spell? Hopefully, they didn’t think he was going to hit them with lightning bolts. Maybe they knew enough to recognize that it was some forbidden magic that the inquisitors didn’t like.

“No,” the alchemist eventually whispered. “More accurately, I can’t. Distilling magic into a liquid form is advanced alchemy, but it is possible. However, I have never seen a cloak like Gretchen’s before. I do not know how it was made, whether its fabricators used pure magic or alchemy and, in the case of the former option, what rituals or incantations were used in its construction, whether the material matters, and so on and so forth, is unknown to me. It might be possible to discern some of that through deconstruction, but I wouldn’t want to damage such a useful artifact.”

Arkk pursed his lips in annoyance. There went another plan. Admittedly, it was a plan he had only thought of since meeting Gretchen and Morford. Simply being able to waltz into the Duke’s compound unseen by all would have been a perfect way to hire Alya and then teleport her to that nearby fortress expansion that didn’t exist yet.

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to sell the cloak?” Arkk asked, looking over to Gretchen.

Her eyes narrowed further. “It is the only thing keeping me safe from the likes of… them.”

Arkk just sighed, wrapping the treatise back in its protective leathers. “I hope you enjoy living under it for the rest of your life.”

“Better living under it than dead.”

Conceding the point with a slight nod of his head, Arkk headed toward the door. “Dakka, we’re leaving at first light. No heavy drinking tonight.”

“I can sleep in the—”

“Dakka.”

The orc crossed her arms with a snort. “You’re the boss.”

“Morford. Gretchen. I won’t tell anyone where you are, but…” Arkk shrugged as he stepped out the door. “Good luck.”

With that, he started walking down the road. A whistle from Dakka called Orjja and Farr’an.

“So,” Dakka started as they neared the stayover. “All that for nothing?”

“Maybe. I’m hoping the alchemist remembers your comment about taking them to the fortress and asks to either shelter Gretchen or both of them.”

“I thought you didn’t want to drag them away from their lives here.”

“I don’t. I’m not a kidnapper,” Arkk said, mildly offended. “But if they want to come willingly, that is a different story. Regardless of their decisions, I can’t justify spending more time here trying to convince them. There will be other ways to reach Alya.”

He just had to figure out what those ways were.

 

 

“Not the friendliest place, is it?” Dakka asked, eyes traveling over the muddy road and the few poor souls who had ventured out into the moderate rain.

Arkk didn’t say anything as he pulled his heavy cloak a little tighter, but he agreed in full.

Darkwood Burg wasn’t a particularly well-to-do settlement. Arkk would never compare a regular burg to an actual city like Cliff, but even compared to a backwater like Smilesville, Darkwood was lacking. The quality of the buildings wasn’t anywhere near that of other burgs, the people walked with their heads down and only glanced up to look at newcomers with suspicion, and its surrounding farmlands were smaller and far less healthy than others Arkk had seen—though with several of the fields being empty from the recent harvest, maybe Arkk shouldn’t judge too harshly.

The wall was the only truly impressive aspect of the burg. A thick stone wall wrapped around the entire settlement. Most burgs contained a larger keep where the local lord sat, which might have some amount of important structures enclosed within the wall but was otherwise fairly insular. Beyond the keep, the rest of most burgs were regular villages that spread out from the walls.

Darkwood Burg had a large keep in the center along with a hefty wall, but a second, larger wall surrounded every other building. On the way in, Arkk spotted less than five buildings outside the wall.

Part of that, Arkk figured, was its location. Darkwood was so named for the nearby Darkwoods, a particularly nasty bit of terrain filled with all manner of unpleasant creatures. Or so Arkk had gathered from asking about the area over the last few days that he and his group had been traveling. Among the many dangers, there were known goblin infestations, an insect colony that tended to leave people alone until they didn’t, occasional sightings of ghasts, and it was a known hunting ground for raptors. A necromancer had allegedly called the area home well over a hundred years ago and, while he had been slain, there were still rumors of undead wandering and attacking anything living they came across.

With all that, one might wonder why anyone bothered to live here. The lumber harvested from the forest, which was a rich, near-black hardwood, was a valuable and rare luxury for the wealthy. Too valuable, it seemed, for the locals to build their homes out of it.

Arkk and Dakka came to a stop outside a small, unassuming building. The signboard on the wall lacked text but did possess a rather intricate carving of an alchemical alembic and several stoppered vials.

“This it?”

“Yes,” Arkk said with a frown. “Check around the sides for other entrances. Watch them if there are any, otherwise return and wait here.”

“Sure thing. Orjja,” Dakka said, pointing, “left side. Farr’an, with her. I’ll take the right.”

As the three orcs spread out, Arkk pushed open the door, tossing his hood off as he stepped out of the rain.

The smell hit him first. An unpleasant sting of a dozen different concoctions. The potion fumes were thick enough in the air that Arkk felt a need to leave the door open lest he suffocate entirely. Wafting a hand in front of his face, a useless gesture, he pressed forward. There were living people in here and if they could survive the air, he could as well. He wasn’t about to be stopped by a foul smell.

Stepping past dusty shelves filled with aging bottles of colored liquids, Arkk approached a wide counter. A person stood behind it, cloaked in thick black clothes. The individual wore a full face-concealing mask. Dark lenses allowed sight while a long, beak-like protrusion jutted out from the mouth and nose area. The attire revealed no skin and no hair, but Arkk did note the gloves had a few too many fingers as the person poured sticky, black liquid from a wide metal pan with a notch on one side into a small glass jar.

Arkk waited, not wanting to disturb the alchemist and cause them to spill whatever that potion was. He simply looked around, noting a raven perched on a thin dowel behind the counter. Several pots and cauldrons were propped up on a stone firepit against the back wall, though there was no fire lit at the moment.

Eventually, the alchemist ceased pouring the black liquid and promptly stoppered the glass jar and covered the larger pot with a metal lid. Placing both containers to the side, the alchemist clasped their many fingers together, gently placing his gloved hands on the countertop.

“Apologies. Thank you for waiting,” they whispered, voice muffled behind the mask. “How can I serve you? Perhaps I can interest you in a soakless solution to keep the rain off your cloak?”

“Tempting,” Arkk said honestly. He almost coughed as he breathed in but, now that there was a lid on whatever potion the alchemist had been brewing, the air had started to clear. “But I’m here for information today.”

“Ah. Interested in learning the art of alchemy yourself?” They leaned forward, whispering voice speaking with a little more intensity. “It is a rewarding discipline, but mistakes can cost you dearly. You would not believe how annoying it is to get gloves made with eight fingers,” they said, holding up their hand and wiggling around the extra digits.

“That’s…” That wasn’t what he had come here for, but couldn’t help himself. “Are you offering personal tutoring or books?”

“I do not recognize you. You are a traveler. Unless you are planning on staying in Darkwood for a significant amount of time, I would not be able to offer an apprenticeship that would teach you anything effective.”

“You are correct. I hope to not be in the area for more than a few days.”

“In that case,” they said, turning away. They walked over behind some curtains hanging off to the side of the counter. Leaning forward, Arkk spotted a tall series of shelves filled with a number of books and small bits of equipment. They pulled off a worn and weathered book that was less a proper tome and more a collection of papers haphazardly bound together with thin pieces of twine. Returning to the counter, they placed it down. “This is what got me my start. It is a fairly simple treatise with a small collection of recipes that can all be brewed in a simple cooking pot, so no need for any exotic equipment. Perfect for beginners.”

Arkk raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I’m in the market for something for beginners?”

“You still have both your eyebrows,” they said with a wispy laugh.

After staring for a moment, Arkk shrugged. “Fair enough. That sounds perfect. What are you asking for it?”

“Let’s say…” they trailed off, humming in thought. Far too many fingers drummed against the counter before their beak-like mask dipped in a nod. “Thirty-four of the King’s stamped silvers.”

There wasn’t a hard exchange rate from gold to silvers. At least not his gold. On the way to Cliff, he had exchanged several pieces of gold for a few pouches of silver with a few of the wealthier merchants he had come across, simply to make it easier to pay for things elsewhere without having to haggle over the value of his gold. The best rate he got was one gold piece for thirty silvers. The worst had been one for thirteen.

Arkk fished a pair of gold coins from inside his cloak. Knowing he was going to pay for the actual information he had come here for, he didn’t want to hand over every single silver that he had.

The alchemist picked up one of the pieces of gold, holding it up to the dark lens in their mask before dropping it into a small glass bowl on the counter. The other coin went on one side of a set of scales. Ducking underneath the counter, the alchemist returned with a bottle of clear liquid and a thin glass straw. After dipping the straw into the clear liquid, the alchemist placed their finger over the other end. When they lifted the straw, a small amount of liquid remained suspended in the bottom until, holding the straw over the gold coin, they removed their finger. The liquid fell out, landing on top of the gold coin. A few sizzling bubbles appeared on the surface of the coin, but only for a brief moment. In short order, the liquid calmed and stilled until it looked no different from water.

“I do not recognize the stamp, but this is quite pure gold.” The alchemist leaned down to the scale, adding a few weights to the other side until the coin was evenly balanced. “Very well. This will suffice.” Reaching under the counter again, the alchemist pulled up a thin section of animal hide and began wrapping the treatise. “I would hate to see it damaged by the rain.”

“Thank you,” Arkk said. He placed another three gold coins on the countertop. “But I originally came here for a different type of information.”

“Oh?” the alchemist asked, tying a piece of twine around the hide-bound book before sliding it across the counter toward Arkk. They did not touch the new coins, however. “What might that be?”

“There was a woman here about nine days ago. Young with dark skin and curly white hair, wearing a green cloak,” Arkk said, repeating the information Vezta had given him before he left the fortress. “I would like to know about her.”

The alchemist slowly shook their head. “I receive a great many customers. My services are in high demand within Darkwood.”

“You brewed a violet-hued potion for her. It took an hour and she stood by in that corner over there, watching until it was finished,” Arkk said. He dropped ten more coins onto the pile. “She tried to pay you with a few silvers, but you refused.”

The pointed beak of the alchemist’s mask dipped down to the counter before they looked back toward Arkk. “It sounds as if you know a great deal already.”

“She returned every day for the next three days and then two days after that. She brought you lunch,” Arkk said. She had just sat and talked, spending almost the entire day here. “I believe she is the daughter of a viscount, kidnapped and currently missing. Her father is worried about her.”

The alchemist took in a deep breath. “Sir—”

Arkk pulled out a fistful of gold, nearly doubling the size of the pile.

The alchemist just shook their head. “You can pile gold onto the counter all day long. It won’t change what I know, which seems to be a fair deal less than you.”

Arkk pressed his lips together, staring into the mask’s dark lenses. Eventually, he dipped his head with a small sigh. While scraping the pile of coins back into his pouch, he left one on the counter. “Sorry,” he said, then slid the extra coin toward the alchemist. “An apology for harassing you. I’ve just been worried for her. Whoever kidnapped her… well, they seem to be the worst sort imaginable.”

When the alchemist said nothing, Arkk picked up the wrapped book and headed back toward the door. Pausing, he looked back.

“If you do recall anything, I am staying at the local stayover for another few days.”

Stepping outside, Arkk threw his hood on and then took a deep breath of fresh air.

Dakka, Orjja, and Farr’an were casually leaning against the adjacent building, talking with each other. None looked like they were watching the entrance in the slightest, yet all three subtly shifted the moment Arkk stepped out. Heading in the opposite direction, he turned a corner; they followed after a few moments.

“Nothing?”

“Just the one door,” Dakka said. “Rainy day like this and nobody’s walking around either. Street was deserted the whole time you were inside.”

Nodding, Arkk reached inside his cloak and pulled out a crystal ball.

He had taken the crystal ball on the trip to watch the shop on the way. Both he and Vezta had been unable to discover where the woman had been going before and after the potion shop. She had a cloak that rendered her invisible to scrying, and possibly regular vision as well, though Arkk hadn’t yet seen her in person to test that.

Quite the suspicious item—and activities—for someone supposedly kidnapped. There were only two reasons why a young woman would be kidnapped. Ransom or lust. The former could be ruled out as no ransom notice had been given to her father. The latter made Arkk irrationally angry just thinking about it, but he felt that could be ruled out as well. No matter the reason why someone had been kidnapped, they wouldn’t be allowed to roam around with a magical item.

Still, Arkk didn’t think she had escaped either. The notice of her kidnapping had been posted weeks ago and the sighting of her in Darkwood was old as well. Yet she was still here. Or had been several days ago. If she had gone to a city guard and mentioned the reward for her safe return, she would have been in Cliff by now.

Which meant she hadn’t been kidnapped at all.

Arkk motioned toward the crystal ball, lighting it up with a touch of magic. The alchemist appeared inside, standing over the counter. They hadn’t gone back to their work with the sticky black potion but were instead using a single one of their many fingers to roll the gold coin back and forth on its edge.

Arkk waited, watching the crystal ball. Hoping. For over an hour, the alchemist didn’t move. They just stood there, fiddling with the gold coin. Eventually, however, the alchemist picked up the coin, palming it in their fist. They stepped around the counter and carefully approached the door. Opening the door just a crack, they peered out into the rainy street, slowly opening the door wider to see further. With the door opened enough to step through, the alchemist looked around. Upon spotting nobody, they grabbed a cloak from near the door, pulled it up over their head and mask, and stepped outside.

“Alright,” Arkk said, alerting the orcs around him. “It’s time. Let’s see where you’re going…”

Using the crystal ball to remain entirely out of sight while keeping a watch on the alchemist made following them through the burg almost too easy. Arkk felt like he should at least be trying to sneak around, yet he and three lumbering orcs walked out in the open because they knew exactly where their target was even while remaining a street away.

The alchemist was at least trying to be careful. Arkk did have to give them credit for that. With how much they were looking around and ducking down side streets and alleys, anyone without a crystal ball either would have lost the alchemist or they would have been caught.

As it was, they managed to follow the alchemist to a rundown old single-room building on the opposite side of the city.

The alchemist started pacing out front, so Arkk quickly checked inside the home. “Found her,” he said, watching as the woman who he presumed to be the viscount’s daughter stirred a stew hanging over a small fire in the fireplace. The alchemist knocked and she jolted, tensing so quickly that the ladle went flying from her fingertips, spilling stew across the floor.

From his position around the side of a small house, Arkk couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could see the woman speaking through the door. She almost melted in relief when she realized who it was. Which Arkk took as a good sign. If this wasn’t Gretchen, the viscount’s daughter, after all this sneaking about, he would be beyond surprised.

As Gretchen opened the door, the alchemist glanced around one last time before stepping in.

He did a quick scan of the interior, but there wasn’t much space in there to check. A bed, a table, a few stools, and a bookshelf with many alchemical texts. The latter fact made him wonder if the home belonged to the alchemist, though he hadn’t seen the alchemist return here in all the time Arkk spent watching him.

“Check doors again,” Arkk said, rounding the corner and hurrying up to the small home. “She might be invisible. If a door opens and you don’t see anything, try to block the way as best you can.”

“Orjja, left. Farr’an, right. If there are more doors and windows than you two can guard on your own, let me know. I’ll ensure no one comes out the front.”

“Remember, we aren’t trying to harm her,” Arkk said, still watching the crystal ball. “And we need to hurry. The alchemist is probably telling her to go on the run again. With that cloak of hers, we might never find her.”

It had been, frankly, a stroke of luck that Vezta decided to search the burg as well as the neighboring forest. Repeating that wouldn’t be easy.

While the two orcs moved around the building, Arkk walked right up to the front door. For a moment, he considered walking in but decided against it. Startling them might cause a fight. A knock, on the other hand, would give them a moment to steady and prepare. Maybe prepare to fight, maybe prepare to flee. With the crystal ball in hand and the orcs watching two windows around the back, Arkk felt prepared for either eventuality.

Both jumped at the knock. The alchemist moved to put Gretchen behind his back, standing in front of her with their arm raised to shield her. Arkk almost missed it at the first glance, but the alchemist had a pair of glass vials held between the fingers of their outstretched hand, looking ready to throw them. Yet another confirmation that barging right in would have been a bad idea. Even as it was, Arkk wished that the fortress was nearby if only to have an easy escape via teleportation if things took a turn for the worse.

When no one did barge through, the alchemist said something to Gretchen, who quickly donned the invisibility cloak, revealing a small coat stand that had been concealed by its power. It was an interesting effect. Not as great as the [HEART] and its construction, teleportation, and employee utilities, but if the cloak was the first magical artifact Arkk had ever seen, his jaw would have been dragging along the floor. As soon as Gretchen was fully hidden, the alchemist stepped closer to the door.

“Good evening,” Arkk said when the door opened a crack.

The alchemist started. Their face was still hidden behind their mask, but the jolt that ran through their whole body gave it away. The lenses of their mask glinted as they looked up to the side where Dakka stood, arms crossed.

“We’ll draw less attention inside,” Arkk said with a smile. “Unless you would prefer attention. I know we are not the only ones looking for Miss Gretchen.”

That wasn’t even a lie. In the two days he and Dakka had been in town, they had asked around. With the amount of money the Viscount was offering, it was no surprise that every bounty hunter in the region had gravitated around Darkwood.

“Miss… who?” the alchemist whispered. “Sir, I think—”

Arkk lifted the crystal ball. It was in front of him already, between the door and his body, but he wouldn’t be surprised to find the large beak of the mask had blocked the view. Now, however, the crystal clear image of the interior of the single-room home was clear to see.

The alchemist’s shoulders dropped. “I see.” Opening the door wider, they stepped aside. “Come in quickly, I suppose.”

Dakka immediately moved, repositioning herself to completely block the now wide-open door. She stepped in first, ducking her head under the doorway, with Arkk following right behind. He closed the door, ensuring no invisible woman slipped past. As Arkk stepped further into the small living space, Dakka took up position behind him, still blocking the door. He quickly checked the crystal ball, noting Orjja and Farr’an outside the two shuttered windows, making sure to linger on both long enough for anyone paying attention to notice. Slipping the crystal ball into a leather pouch under his cloak, Arkk looked up with a smile.

“I think the stew might be burning,” he said, tone as calm and casual as possible. The potions in the alchemist’s hands weren’t visible at the moment, but he wanted to avoid doing anything that might get those thrown at him, unsure what they might do. “Please relax. Gretchen, I’m not here to drag you back to your father. Probably.”

A slight gasp from the corner of the room had both Arkk and Dakka shifting, though neither moved.

Eventually, just to the left of where Arkk was looking, Gretchen shuffled off her cloak, leaving it around her shoulders but letting it hang loose with her hood off. Arkk expected to see fear on her face but was surprised to see that she looked about ready to attack anyone that came near. Probably with the ladle she had picked up sometime between now and when she had dropped it.

“What do you mean, probably?”

“Were you ever kidnapped? Are you being held here against your will? Are you in danger here? Are you hiding here from someone and are unable to return to your father?”

With each question, Gretchen shook her head back and forth.

Sighing, Arkk asked one final question. “Do you want to go back to your father?”

“No,” she said, almost as a hiss. “That bastard can—” Cutting herself off, she threw an angry glance at the wall, refusing to look at anyone.

Arkk exchanged a glance with Dakka. “Could always drag her back anyway. Not like they can stop us,” the orc said.

“No, no,” Arkk said, noting both the alchemist and Gretchen tense. “We’re trying to rescue someone. I doubt Ilya would be happy knowing we boosted our fame at the expense of someone else. And that’s assuming she didn’t kill me first.”

Gretchen looked up at that. “Rescue someone?” she asked.

Arkk shrugged his shoulders. “We hoped to return you to your father would make us notable enough—perhaps with a little help from your father’s connections—to open a few doors that are currently closed to us. I honestly thought finding you would be the hard part. Now…” With a sigh, Arkk gestured toward the pot of stew. “Why not take that off the fire and then let us sit down and discuss a few things? Maybe we can turn this around and somehow not make it a big waste of time.”

 

 

 

Arkk placed a long list in front of Rekk’ar, then stepped back and waited for the orc to look over the notes.

The first mercenary expedition had been a resounding success. It had been a simple task. A baron of a nearby village had been having trouble with wolves attacking his livestock. The dozen orcs Arkk had taken with him had been more than happy to hunt them down, culling the numbers. They even behaved themselves for the duration of a small feast in the village. The residents had been a bit surprised at Arkk’s choice of company, but no one had been able to argue with the pelts brought back.

It wasn’t enough. Not if Arkk planned to succeed. A few wolves taken care of for a village that few would have heard of out in the greater Duchy wouldn’t be nearly enough.

“No gorgons,” Rekk’ar said, striking the item from the list with an angry swipe of his pen.

“I merely included it for completeness’ sake.”

Rekk’ar just grumbled, striking several other items from the list. With a final glance over the list, he shoved it back over to Arkk.

Arkk immediately adopted a frown. “You crossed off all the large jobs.”

“We’re orcs, not your servant or you,” Rekk’ar said, standing. “I’m aware of our limits and, being responsible for the rest, cannot condone a suicide mission.”

Arkk pointed at one of the crossed-out items. “Surely a single vampire—”

“I don’t know much about vampires, it is true. I know you don’t either, so don’t bother denying it.” Rekk’ar grinned when Arkk couldn’t say anything. “They wouldn’t be offering that much if it was a simple task. Maybe we can do it easily. Maybe not. Do research and get back to me.”

Arkk gave him a look at being commanded around, but Rekk’ar just laughed. “Why did you cross off the viscount’s daughter? I kind of already accepted it…”

Even if he hadn’t accepted it, it was the one job Arkk was most interested in. The one that might put their name out there faster than any other single job. Viscounts, though Arkk wasn’t sure what exactly they did with their time even after meeting one, were important people.

Rekk’ar shrugged. “If nobody else has done it by now, the girl is either dead, doesn’t want to go back, or is being held by something too big for people like us to deal with. No matter what, a bunch of orcs getting involved with a missing human girl is only going to end poorly for us.”

“That…” Arkk sighed. “I can see your reasoning, but I’m overruling it. Getting a viscount vouching for us is the best way to get our name out there.”

“Waste of time,” Rekk’ar said, shaking his head but without fighting it further. “Might I suggest the expedition to a lost pyramid? It would get the boys some fresh air and get them moving. Maybe get us some treasure too.”

Arkk nodded slowly but didn’t think that job would be worth it at all. Not unless that lost pyramid brought with it great fame as well as fortune. With the state of Fortress Al-Mir’s gold mine, he didn’t need any treasure. Not that he said that. To the best of his knowledge, only he and Vezta knew of the wealth sitting around the [HEART]. Technically Zullie had heard as well, but the researcher had thrown herself into trying to uncover the magical mysteries of the fortress. She probably hadn’t even heard Vezta.

“Not worried about gorgons or vampires inhabiting a lost pyramid?”

“Figured they would have made a bit more noise.”

“I don’t know. I found Vezta here. The fortress was completely abandoned at the time and I had lived next door to it my entire life. Never suspected a thing.”

“Then you should be even more interested in it,” Rekk’ar said. “Maybe you’ll find another servant.”

Arkk opened his mouth to discredit that assumption, only to find that he couldn’t. After all, why couldn’t there be another creature like Vezta at some lost pyramid in the middle of nowhere? Looking down at the notes he had taken regarding that particular job, Arkk started nodding to himself.

“The expedition is being led by an elf along with some historian. They want a few guards for the journey. Get me three to five people who won’t have problems taking orders from an elf.”

Rekk’ar nodded, then headed to the door. As he moved, he said, “I’ll have your team by tonight.”

“Good. They can requisition whatever they need from the blacksmith, food supply, and whatever else.”

With a final nod, Rekk’ar stepped outside the meeting room.

Arkk didn’t linger. He teleported away, reappearing inside the fortress library. With the addition of Zullie’s crates of books, it was looking like a library these days. Zullie stood over three open books on the desk. She kept looking back and forth between the two of them while scribbling into the third.

His appearance had gone unnoticed thus far. Even after clearing his throat, she didn’t look up from whatever she was working on.

“Zullie.”

“Busy!”

Sighing, Arkk stepped closer, looking over her shoulder. As far as Arkk could tell in his inexpert observations, she was attempting to dissect the lightning spell. Most of what she was writing made no sense to him. Lots of words, lots of numbers. Since arriving back here, she had given him one of the beginner books she had brought and told him to get through it and then ask questions if he had any. He was only about a third of the way into it. There was just so much going on.

Between running the fortress and mercenary work, there just hadn’t been much time to sit back and read. And he was busy keeping a lookout for any sign that the inquisitors had followed him back to Langleey. Both tunnels were complete now and both had hidden entrances just outside the village and burg. He could teleport in, ask around, and get out in the blink of an eye. The extended tunnels came with the added benefit that they increased the size of his territory, allowing transport from outside the fortress into it from much further out.

“Did Vezta get around to teaching you the spell?”

Zullie didn’t answer right away, finishing her current batch of notes first. Eventually, she turned her head. “Nope!”

“I told her—”

“There wasn’t any need. I cast it myself on my own just using the incantation you gave me.”

“Oh? You figured it out on your own?”

“Not quite,” Zullie said with a frown. “More accurately, there was nothing to figure out. Simply repeating the incantation you gave me allowed me to cast three lightning bolts in a row before I felt like I was about to pass out. Through a few repeated tests, I believe I have discovered a few things. First of all, only I can cast that spell.”

“I’ve been fairly successful at it as well.”

Zullie held up a finger. “Sorry. I meant outside this place, I sincerely doubt anyone would be capable of casting that spell. When you performed whatever ritual magic made me an ‘employee’ and let you move me around, it created a connection between us. I’m having a very difficult time analyzing that connection, but it is that connection that allows me to cast the spell. It simply requires far too much magic to cast for any individual spellcaster. A team might be able to pool their magic together, but not any individual without your connection.”

“So you’re leeching magic from me?”

“Not you, there is something else here,” she said, looking around with narrowed eyes. Her gaze eventually landed back on Arkk. “I suspect you know what it is, however.”

The [HEART]. Arkk didn’t say anything and he tried not to react—the [HEART] was something only known to him, Ilya, and Vezta and he intended to keep it that way.

Still, Zullie nodded as if she expected his reaction or lack thereof.

“Wait,” Arkk said, “if the magic isn’t coming from you, does that mean I would be able to teach the lightning spell to all the orcs? Any employee, for that matter, regardless of whether or not they were capable of magic beforehand?”

“I doubt they will manage well,” Zullie said, scribbling a little note down on the side of her already full page. “Maybe a single weak bolt? I could be considered in the upper echelon of spellcasters in terms of power. If I can barely manage, I doubt a bunch of uneducated orcs will get much of a spark. Still, a fascinating experiment, to be sure.”

Perhaps only as an experiment, however. Half the orcs only agreed to work for him because he could sling magic around. If they could do it too… well, they would still have to break their employee bond and then… then they wouldn’t be able to cast at all. So perhaps it was a good idea all around then? It would make the orcs vastly more effective if they could use magic as well as their already superior martial prowess.

Maybe Rekk’ar would agree to some more prestigious jobs.

“Another thing I discovered was that the lightning spell you use is an entirely separate system of magic from what I—or anyone else—knows. It is the difference between magic and the holy spells wielded by higher-ranking members of the Abbey of the Light. I didn’t realize it right away because two words are hardly enough to linguistically compare to regular spells but by breaking it down analytically, it becomes obvious. I’m not sure what this means, exactly. I need more samples to work with.”

“I only know two other spells. I haven’t even used one and the other… Slave Natum.”

A lesser servant formed between them, slopping to the ground as a gaggle of eyes formed on its pulsating mass. Zullie stumbled back, bumping into a shelf hard enough to knock a few books down around her.

Arkk whisked the creature away, sending it to join the others in digging out a room on a lower level of the fortress. The new treasury.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Zullie said, pressing one hand hard against the base of her throat.

“Should have warned you. Sorry. You get used to them.”

After a few breathing exercises, during which Zullie managed to keep herself from throwing up, she shook her head. “I think I’ll pass on that one. What was that?”

“A servant of the fortress. They dig out new rooms, claim land, reinforce walls, keep things clean, repair damaged areas, and do other general maintenance work.”

“There are more of them?”

“Eight, right now. I try to keep them out of view for obvious reasons. Vezta was going to show me how to make them a little more aesthetically pleasing, but we’ve been busy with other things.”

Zullie shook her head again and, after a few more deep breaths, looked up to Arkk. “The other spell?”

“I don’t think it is one you can use. When I learned it, it was kind of just shoved into my head, but from what I understand, it is something only I can use. It, uh, lets me possess an employee.”

“Possess?”

Arkk shrugged. “I haven’t used it. Don’t know the exact details. Just the general concept.”

“Well? Test it out already.”

“Right now?”

Zullie spread her arms wide as if to say go ahead.

Arkk, however, wasn’t an idiot. An untested spell that could take control of someone else’s body sounded like the perfect way to mess something up. So, he ripped Vezta through space, pulling her from her work in the room with the large crystal archway. He felt a bit bad about dragging her away, especially because he was rather interested in her work with reopening the portal, but she didn’t mind.

As usual, Vezta simply bowed without any apparent discomfort or surprise.

“I’m going to test the possession spell.”

“Excellent,” Vezta said with a smile. “It is a good one to get used to. Keeps you safe while allowing you full use of your abilities. Will you be testing it on myself or your employee?”

Arkk glanced between the two. Vezta was the obvious choice. She had already stated that it was considered an honor to be possessed in this fashion. However, her body was about as far from human as it could possibly get. Arkk had no idea how the spell worked beyond that it took over someone’s bodily autonomy. Would he even be able to function while possessing Vezta?

Zullie, on the other hand, stood with her arms wide, welcoming the opportunity to experience the spell firsthand. He barely knew her and this felt like a fairly personal thing, but she was a human.

If Ilya was around, he might have asked her. Unfortunately, she and Olatt’an were on their way to the Marrowlands Fen in search of her people.

Ultimately, the deciding factor came down to one key thought that ran through Arkk’s mind. If something did happen, Vezta would be able to help him far more than the magical researcher. Trapping her in her body or whatever happened to someone while possessed was less than ideal.

“Ready?” Arkk asked, looking at Zullie.

“I’ve read about possession. Never experienced it, but it is supposedly the domain of ghosts or gods. Neither of which have physical forms, so I’m interested in seeing how this works out. Ghosts typically possess objects rather than people, but the latter has been documented. As for gods…” She shrugged. “They say the Light will possess the Holy Ecclesiarch in times of grave danger, but that hasn’t happened in my lifetime.”

“Alright. But are you ready?”

“I am completely focused on my internal magic in an attempt to uncover what will happen. Proceed at will.”

“Cranium Internum,” Arkk said. Not wanting to explode anyone, he carefully pushed out just a touch of magic toward Zullie, slowly increasing it until it felt like a bit of twine snapped between his fingers.

Arkk shook himself, wobbling slightly. Vezta reached out a hand, steadying him, but even after he regained his balance, he still felt off-kilter. His perspective was shorter than normal and his vision wasn’t as sharp as it usually was. His fingernails were too long, his chest was too heavy, and his back had developed a sudden ache.

Glancing down at himself, he didn’t see himself at all. Rather, he was clad in the black surcoat-like coat that Zullie wore. It left her arms bare—she said she didn’t like sleeves smudging ink—which was more than enough to realize that Arkk wasn’t at all Arkk anymore. His arms were thin and bookish.

Looking up, he saw Vezta smiling at him, but no sign of him.

“This is very strange,” he said, feeling like he needed to clear his throat.

You think this is strange for you? You should see it from my perspective.

“Zullie? Are you there?”

I wonder where your body went. Gods don’t have bodies and neither do ghosts, so it makes sense that they would be able to enter another being—or object—but you most definitely had a flesh and blood meat sack carting around your consciousness until just now.

“Please don’t refer to me as a meat sack,” Arkk said, then looked over to Vezta. “Is everything working properly?”

“I see no issue. You are fully in control of the body?”

Arkk held out a hand and drummed his fingers in the air. Slowly, he started walking around the library. His walk picked up into a light jog around the large desk. Surprisingly enough, despite his initial disorientation, he wasn’t having any trouble moving around. He had thought the smaller legs would have thrown him off, but once he started moving, it all came as naturally as if Zullie’s body had been his all along.

Please stop. You’re getting me sweaty.

Slowing down, not wanting to upset his magical researcher, Arkk stopped next to Vezta. From the information she had shoved into his mind when first teaching him the spell, he knew roughly how to end the spell. His magic was still being siphoned from him, slowly but surely. Pulling back on it for just a moment had him staggering in place.

Zullie almost toppled over, but Vezta’s quick movements saved them both from an unfortunate fall to the ground.

Back in his comfortable tunic, Arkk patted himself down, just making sure that everything was where it was supposed to be. Across from him, Zullie was doing much the same. Almost in the same patterns too, making him wonder if he was somehow still controlling her.

Then she opened her mouth.

“Fascinating,” she said, reaching for her pen. She somehow managed to speak and write at the same time. “Being a passenger in my own body is not anything I ever expected to experience. I could feel your magic thrumming through my bones. No matter how hard I tried, I was unable to reassert control. I’ve heard of people fighting off ghostly possession but perhaps I need more experience…”

“I did hear you talking to me,” Arkk said. “Or talking to yourself. Not sure which. Once I started moving, it felt perfectly natural to walk around in your body.”

Zullie bobbed her head, adding his commentary to her notes. “We should soak you in water and then have you possess someone for an extended period of time.”

Arkk blinked. “Why?”

“I am curious to discover whether the water will have dried or if you will emerge as wet as you were before.”

“That makes sense. See if my body changes while it doesn’t… uh, exist? That could be vital if I get wounded. I could possess someone and ride their body around until I could reach someone capable of healing my body…” Arkk paused, an odd sense of disassociation hitting him. “This is also the strangest thing I’ve ever talked about.”

“Will you possess me now, Master?” Vezta asked, all of her eyes staring at him.

Arkk hesitated before slowly shaking his head. With how natural Zullie’s body had felt after a few minutes, he would probably get the hang of Vezta’s body, but… her body was just so very different. The thought of having so many eyes, limbs, and whatever minor shapeshifting ability she had to turn her thick tendrils into a long dress felt disorienting just imagining it.

“Later,” he said, not sure how much he meant it. Vezta accepted the response without any disappointment, just a slight bow of acknowledgment. “I actually had a job for Zullie. I’m sorry for disturbing your work. Both of you,” he said, looking from Vezta to Zullie. “But this could be important.”

“I live to serve,” Vezta said with another bow.

Zullie, on the other hand, shot him a dirty look. “Is this job related to your magic?”

“Not exactly.” Arkk winced at the flash of irritation in her violet eyes. “I’m planning to send some of the orcs to protect an expedition to some ancient pyramid. I would like it located and assessed before committing, however.”

“Assessed?”

“For danger as well as possible value in seeking it out. Lost magical knowledge, treasure, or anything similar.”

Zullie nodded with a small frown. “And you want me to do that? I thought… Vezta was our scrying professional. I can use a crystal ball, but—”

“Vezta is working on a different project for me,” Arkk said, looking at the monster for a moment before turning his attention back to Zullie. “If there is some pyramid out in the highlands, I assume it will be much easier to locate than a person. If you cannot locate it, it isn’t that big of a deal. I just prefer being forewarned about any dangers.”

“I suppose if I’m being paid to do this,” Zullie said, grumbling as she looked back to her notes. “You want me to pause the magic research?”

“Just for a few hours,” Arkk said, handing over his own notes on the mercenary job. “This is all the information I know. Spend at least a few hours today and tomorrow on it. If you haven’t found anything by nightfall tomorrow, you can stop.”

“Understood,” Zullie said with a sigh, looking over the notes. After a long moment, she walked over to the crystal ball in the library and hunched over it.

“Vezta…” Arkk said, thinking about what Rekk’ar had mentioned as he led her out of the room and away from Zullie. Once they were down the hall, he asked, “There are other fortresses like this, right?”

“Today? I do not know, but I doubt it. In the days of my former master? I wouldn’t have said they were common, but there were certainly a number around.”

“Do you know if there was one in the Cliff mountainside? The magical academy there reminds me a lot of this place.”

“The location you visited recently?” Vezta hummed. “It wasn’t called Cliff at the time, but I do believe that there was a Keeper of the [HEART] operating in the area. Malachite? Mendechaus, perhaps? I suppose whoever it was is long dead.”

“I wonder if I should make a contract with it next time I am there—”

Vezta started, actually losing her smile as she gripped Arkk’s arm. “Do not claim an unknown [HEART], Master. Your [HEART] is your heart.”

“Wasn’t I supposed to claim more for your other task?”

“Yes, but not on a whim…” Vezta trailed off, eyes shifting away from Arkk for a moment. “If you wish to merely expand your territory beyond great distances, beseeching the [PANTHEON] is the proper method. Other Keepers are known to lay traps, sabotage, or otherwise make it unpleasant for others to take what is theirs. In addition, there are many types of [HEART] devices and not all are compatible with each other. I must protest any action toward another [HEART]. If you discover one, inactive, we can assess it together.”

Never in the several weeks that Arkk had known Vezta had she used such passion and fervor while speaking. In tense situations, such as nearly being overwhelmed by goblins, she always used a demure tone with a serene smile on her face. Even when discussing her former master’s final orders and her desire to see them through, she had spoken with a reserved reverence, not anything like this.

“Besides,” Vezta said, slowly returning to a calmer state. “It is highly likely that any [HEART] in the area is already dead.”

Arkk, licking his lips, drew a breath and asked, “Why do you say that?”

“Have you forgotten what the surface looks like here? If there are people and plants near a still-living [HEART], I would be surprised. Unless, of course, someone claimed it or the [HEART] discovered another method of survival. I cannot rule either out, but find it unlikely given the location and population.”

“Hearts would be in other Cursed Forests,” Arkk said with a frown. “I understand.”

Vezta nodded, looking relieved. “I apologize for my outburst, Master. I merely wished to impress upon you the gravity of the situation.”

“No, it’s fine. There is a lot I don’t know and I appreciate you warning me before I bumble into problems. I was just thinking it would be nice to be able to teleport around Cliff at will… Vezta, are there more of your kind around? Perhaps near the fortress of this possible dead Heart?”

“If there are, I have not heard of such a thing.” Vezta smiled. “I would not be surprised to find that I am the last of my kind on this plane.”

“That’s… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Vezta shook her head, side to side. “I suppose it is a bit too peaceful like this.” Arkk raised an eyebrow, but Vezta simply bowed.

Shrugging, Arkk asked, “How is opening the portal coming along?”

Vezta clasped her hands together, rubbing a thumb against the back of her hand. “Not as well as I had hoped. I aim to recruit your magical researcher to my efforts, but she is still familiarizing herself with magic and life here. Perhaps… ask me for a progress report in two weeks?”

“I can do that.” Arkk nodded, then asked. “And the other task I assigned to you?”

“Scrying for the girl? I had something to report on that matter. I searched through the Darkwood forest. It appears incompatible with human existence, being filled with dangers I don’t believe any individual is likely to survive. Because of that, I focused a great deal on the burg. I spotted someone matching the description you gave me.”

“You found her?” Arkk perked up. His whole plan to get invited to the Duke’s party revolved around making a name for themselves. Rescuing a viscount’s daughter was their ticket to that renown.

Vezta held up a hand with a small frown. “There was an issue. I spotted a woman, but she possesses an artifact of some type that allows her to hide from my sight.”

“Hide how?”

“Invisibility.”

“Is that possible?” Arkk said, eyes widening.

“My former master has a spell that would allow that, but from what I observed of your missing woman, she possesses an article of clothing with a similar spell effect woven into it.”

Invisibility could be a problem, but… “She is there, right?”

“As of this afternoon, yes.”

“Then I’ll leave at once. If she shows again, alert me and I’ll focus on you and your crystal ball.”

Vezta canted her head. “If I were there in person, I imagine I would be able to track her.”

Arkk bit his lip then shook his head. “No. The inquisitors will be searching for any sightings of you. I need you to keep things running here anyway. With Olatt’an out, it’s just you and Rekk’ar. Luckily, we’re sending a few orcs out to that ancient pyramid, some are with Ilya, and I’ll be taking a few as well. There won’t be too many here.”

“Understood,” Vezta said with a bow. Her movements were the same as they ever were, but Arkk still felt a hint of disappointment in her tone. “If there is nothing else, I shall see to the tasks you assigned me.”

“No, that’s all. Thank you, Vezta.”

She bowed again before turning. Arkk watched her back—and the array of glowing yellow eyes that traveled down her spine—for a long moment until she turned down a different corridor. Pressing his lips into a small frown, Arkk turned and, after a few steps, teleported away.

 

 

 

Three days into her journey and Ilya was starting to question whether this was a good idea.

When younger, her mother had told her about her people. The elven community that had raised her mother was somewhere in the northwestern areas of the Duchy of Mystakeen. A locale known as Marrowlands Fen. Geographically, it was an interesting area. Lots of islands of varying sizes right on the edge of the ocean with people living on most if not all of them.

Unfortunately, Alya’s stories had not included directions. They had been less stories and more anecdotes of her time among them. One story in particular, the one that set Ilya off on this idea in the first place, had been about Alya’s younger sister. An elf by the name of Prya who, according to Alya, made the most beautiful clothing in all the elven village. That would have been about six hundred years ago. Hopefully, Prya had kept up with her tradecraft in the time since then.

Ilya wasn’t sure what she would find when she arrived but she was hoping that her mother’s family was around. Not just for Prya but for all of her mother’s family. She could probably find any elven commune and find a centuries-old elf with plenty of practice at tailoring elegant dresses but she doubted that she would find real help.

She had never thought she would be able to rescue her mother from the clutches of the Duke. Arkk, the fortress, their newfound wealth, and the strange assistance offered by a pre-Calamity monster made that impossibility sound ever so slightly achievable. Yet, of all the things she listed, she really only trusted Arkk. Family, even family she had never met, would hopefully both help recover her mother—even if only by making clothing—and help keep them from letting all this wealth and power go to their heads.

The problem was getting there.

“I see, thank you,” Ilya said.

“This is the last burg you’ll find for about a week of travel if you’re heading up in that direction.” The butcher helping her load salted meat into the back of her cart talked as he worked. “There are a few villages dotted here and there but you might not be able to resupply as much as you want. I would suggest you prepare but…” He laughed, slapping a crate on the lid. “You’ve practically cleaned me out of all my preserved meat.”

“I wonder if I should get more,” she hummed, more to herself than to him.

The butcher heard anyway. “More? This’ll last five a month.”

“I’m traveling with about a dozen. Orcs,” she added. “They eat a bit more than most.”

“A dozen orcs?” The old man glanced around, looking more suspicious now than he had before “You aren’t in trouble, are you?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. They’re bodyguards. We all work for Company Al-Mir.”

“Ah. Mercenary business? They aren’t helping you supply up?”

“Something like that,” Ilya said. “And they are. They’re just getting supplies elsewhere,” she lied. In an attempt to change the topic, she quickly asked a question before he could say anything else. “Any dangers on the road ahead?”

“Always dangers. The western side of the duchy has slavers and bandits running amok. They practically run the whole area.” He let out a small laugh, looking around once again. “If you’re traveling with a dozen battle-hardened orcs, I doubt you’ll get any trouble though. They like easy targets.”

“They run the area? What about the Duke’s men?”

“Too busy manning the border. Word passing through here is that the damn Sultanate is getting a bit uppity these days,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “Lots of soldier-types making their way over there as of late. Times are getting interesting but… I think I prefer boring times.”

“I get that,” Ilya said as she secured the crates in the back of the cart. “Thanks for your help. I’d best get moving.”

“Sure thing. Take care of yourself,” the butcher said, nodding his head. Dusting off his hands on his bloodstained apron, he turned and headed back into his shop.

Ilya quickly moved the cart. She went along to several other shops and purchased supplies. All on her own. Like the butcher, most questioned what she was doing, loading up so much traveling gear all for herself. She offered them the same excuse she gave the butcher. The others were just collecting their own supplies. Maybe the merchants would all have a get-together and talk about the strange woman buying up all the gear in town. They would realize that she had lied but by then, she would be long gone.

By the time she was finished, the light in the sky was dimming. She would have liked to have found a stayover to rest for the night. Unfortunately, she didn’t have that luxury at the moment. Ignoring the warnings of the burg’s guard, she ventured out onto the road and started traveling. She didn’t intend to make a full leg of the journey tonight, of course. Rather, she traveled along the road just until she spotted the dancing light of a fire burning off the beaten path.

Directing the horses off to the side of the road, she quickly came up to a camp of rowdy orcs, laughing and talking around a large bonfire. It was obvious that they were excited to be out of the fortress. Ilya was as well, if she were being honest. Sometimes it was easy to forget where that fortress was but the lack of sunlight and that constant feeling of wrongness that came from being in the Cursed Forest weighed heavily.

As soon as the lookout noticed her and called out to the others, a ripple spread through the group. Laughter cut off, voices died down, and soon enough, Ilya found herself standing in front of a dozen silent orcs. All of whom were staring.

“Took you long enough.”

Almost all were staring.

Olatt’an sat at the side of the bonfire, leaning against a toppled log in a lax pose, barely even glancing up to meet her eyes.

Ilya wasn’t sure if it was disrespect, his usual mellow demeanor, or if he knew that the way the other orcs acted at her arrival disturbed her but whatever the case, she vastly preferred his presence to that of the others. Still, his words incensed her.

“I took long enough? I had to walk around, carrying heavy crates and kegs all by myself from morning until sunset. And what did you lot do all day? Sat around on your fat asses? Why are you wanted in every burg in the Duchy? Dakka didn’t have this problem.”

“Dakka was new.”

“Young.”

“A runt,” someone said.

“Don’t call her that,” Ilya snapped. She let out a long, withering sigh. “This is going to be a long journey. You don’t need to make it longer by complaining about me when you lot are—”

“Did you say kegs?” Kazz’ak called out.

Ilya shot him a glare that faded before it could really begin. Reaching back over the cart, she threw off the tarp that kept their supplies out of the elements. Three large barrels sat horizontally in the back of the cart. “These two are water,” she said, standing and tapping a foot against two of them. “The third… is ale.”

A brief pause of silence shattered to pieces as a cheer ran through the crowd of orcs. They surged forward as one only to stop short as Ilya stomped a foot down on the cart’s edge.

“But!” she shouted. “This is going to be a long journey. Longer than we thought. The next burg is a week away and there is no guarantee they’ll have excess ale there. Marrowlands Fen is further than I thought, so we’ve got a long march ahead of us. If this is all gone tonight, well, I’m not going back to that burg for more.”

With that said, she jumped off the cart and stalked through the crowd until she reached the only orc that wasn’t gathering around the ale keg. She sank down against the log and crossed her arms.

“They’re going to be useless in the morning,” Olatt’an said.

“They better not be useless in the morning,” Ilya said, loud enough that at least a few of the orcs in the back heard.

“You didn’t have to get that.”

“Yeah… well,” Ilya started, voice softer. “I’m not here to be your friend. You lot are being paid to be out here. But if dropping a few silver on a bunch of alcohol gets them to stop tip-toeing around me, I’ll take it. That’s just going to make this trip drag on at a snail’s pace.”

“I understand the reasoning but drunk orcs will make it drag on as well,” Olatt’an said with a small chuckle. “Longer than we thought, huh?”

“A bit over two weeks to reach Marrowlands Fen from here. No idea about where the elves are located within the fen. Hopefully one of the burgs closer will have more information.”

“Hopefully,” Olatt’an repeated. Clapping his hands on his thighs, he stood. “Best get me a mug before they drain the entire keg.”

“You’re having some as well?” Ilya said, not bothering to hide the note of disappointment in her tone.

“If it is any good, it will be wasted on these runts. If it’s bad ale, well, I’m just sparing them from having to drink more.” Olatt’an flashed his tuskless grin. “I am an orc,” he said, turning away.

Ilya crossed her arms and glared at the tan orc’s back. “A long journey indeed,” she mumbled to herself.

She was wondering if this was a good idea at all.

The sea started to boil.

The Grand Old Church of Cliff City sat atop a small island jutting up from the water in the middle of the bay. The winding staircase that led up to the cathedral on top had a little-used path that ran downward. The stairs ended at a small boat dock, one that had hardly seen any use since the bridge had been built.

Agnete didn’t often come to the city of Cliff. When she did, it was usually for only a short amount of time. The life of an inquisitor rarely had them remaining in the larger settlements of the land. While cultists and other subversive elements did occasionally try to infest the city, local priests and bishops were usually enough to root them out. Inquisitors were sent out into the less well-traveled areas of the Kingdom where a deviant might be able to otherwise make their lair without anyone the wiser until after their plans came to fruition.

Moving from town to town. Incinerating a totem to a foul god. A witch burned there. There was always more to be done. Never staying for long. Perhaps someone ended up saved here or there. Agnete never got to meet them. It was always on to the next place, to stymie the seemingly endless tide of enemies of the Light.

It was a… cold existence.

There weren’t often moments to take for herself. Agnete had learned to cherish them when they came.

On a previous visit to Cliff, she had discovered this spot. Down the stairs of the Grand Old Church, past the unused dock, and around the rocky wall of the island was a small sandbar. The perfect spot to toss off her boots, her cloak, and the rest of her clothes and wade out into the waters.

The waters boiled against her bare skin.

Bending, Agnete scooped up a fistful of sand. The individual grains began to glow a white-hot as they began merging together into one smooth flow of molten glass. Ankles in the water, Agnete sat against a large stone and began to massage the liquid-like glass. She flicked her thumbnail through the glass, creating neat lines in the blob. Scooping up more sand, she added it to the mass, pulling out a sharp point from one end while rounding the other.

Agnete worked in silence. The only sounds were the waves slapping against the island and the sizzling noise of water turning to steam against her legs.

A chill wind swept over her. Normal cold didn’t bother Agnete in the slightest. This made her lock up. She stiffened, dropping the glass sculpture into the water as she bolted to her feet.

“Purifier.”

Agnete slowly turned, facing the dock just to the side of her little sandbar.

Darius Vrox stood on the worn wooden planks, leaning against one of the piles anchoring the dock to the ground. One hand was in his long coat’s pocket while the other drummed against the wood. Those fingers stopped abruptly as, behind his large round glasses, Darius narrowed his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Awaiting our next move, Sir.”

Darius looked over her before his eyes roamed over to the clothes she had left draped over the rope railing of the dock. “You get precious little time off. Can you not enjoy it like a normal person?”

Agnete opened her mouth but Darius held up a hand.

“I don’t care. Douglas and I have been going over the texts sent over by Central, trying to uncover exactly what we are dealing with. We’ve been stumped, mostly, but there is one thing I would like clarification on. You referred to the young man as empty. Elaborate.”

Pressing her lips together, Agnete thought back to her first meeting with Arkk back in the small town of Langleey. She was different than other people. Special in some ways, broken in others. Like other purifiers, she could wield fire magic without incantations or ritual circles. She could sense heat and fire even at a distance. And, within people, she could see embers. The soul. Or so she assumed. There had been no confirmation made by any of the Abbey of the Light’s researchers.

It was just what she felt.

“You and I have a flame inside us. He didn’t. I don’t know what that means.”

“Please don’t compare us,” Darius said with his half-smile. “It sickens me.”

Agnete clamped her jaw shut.

“Perhaps he is less human than we thought. Or what made him human has been removed.” Darius removed his hand from his pocket, shaking off a few flecks of frost before he started rubbing at his chin. “Could the creature be controlling him?”

Unsure as to whether or not Darius was asking her or merely wondering aloud to himself, Agnete played it safe and remained silent. Which, after a momentary pause, seemed to be the correct decision. Darius paid her little attention as he continued speaking.

“No. He seemed active and independent during our encounters. He has a proper history with the people of his village. They would likely have noticed something. Unless they had all been affected similarly?”

Feeling like that question was directed more toward her than the ambient aether, Agnete said, “Langleey’s baron felt normal to me. He had the same burning core inside him that… most people have.”

“Have you ever encountered someone with the same affliction as Mister Arkk?”

Agnete shook her head slowly. “No, Sir.”

“I see. Very well. Carry on with…” Darius looked around. “Whatever it is you were doing. Douglas and I will fetch you when we are ready to move again.”

“Understood.”

Darius turned and began his long climb up the steps toward the Grand Old Church. Agnete remained still, watching his back until he rounded the island’s mountain and vanished from view. Only then did she let out a warm sigh as she looked down at the water around her feet. The boiling stopped.

Reaching a hand into the water, Agnete felt around until her fingers found a smooth shape among the sandy grit. Standing upright, she withdrew a small glassy raven. A bit of seaweed had gotten tangled around its neck. She spent a moment trying to untangle it but only seemed to make the problem worse. Frustrated, she sent a surge of heat through her arm.

The seaweed noose burned away. The raven, unfortunately, did not come away unscathed from her burst of heat. It drooped, sagging into a shapeless blob.

Lips pressed together, Agnete turned up the heat to the point where small globs of glass ran between her fingers, falling to the sea below where they sizzled and cracked before rejoining the sand at the bottom.

That was why she was not allowed to help research in the archives. They didn’t want ancient and unique books going up in flames.

Cracking her neck, Agnete found her seat once again. She reached into the steaming water and pulled up a fresh fistful of sand.

 

 

“That was certainly a strange sensation,” Zullie said as she appeared within the halls of Fortress Al-Mir.

After Arkk explained the ‘hiring’ process to her over the week it took to return, she readily agreed. More in the interest of experiencing new magic than working for him, but as long as she was teaching him, Arkk wasn’t going to complain.

As soon as the cart had come within range of Fortress Al-Mir, Arkk had been able to move all the equipment, the cart and horse, and finally all four people. Arkk wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do with a horse underground, but he wanted off the roads as soon as possible. There had been no sign of the inquisitors following them. Arkk didn’t want to take the chance. If they were following, hopefully vanishing would throw them off.

Of course, they would just go to Langleey Village if they couldn’t find him, but he didn’t intend to go there anytime soon either.

Arkk sent Ilya and Dakka to their respective quarters, where they could clean up from the hasty journey they had just been on. As soon as he finished, he found Vezta, somewhere in the lower levels of the fortress, and pulled her in front of him and Zullie.

“Master,” Vezta said, bowing immediately without any sign of discomfort at her sudden relocation. “Welcome back. Several matters require your attention.”

“Emergencies?”

“No. The [HEART] chamber is overflowing with gold. Constructing a dedicated treasury will be required before we resume mining. In the interim, I have assigned your servants to expanding your territory toward both Langleey Village and the nearby burg.”

“Expansions?” Arkk said, quickly checking through the dungeon with his second sight.

“At the moment, they are little more than deep and narrow tunnels, easily defensible with the liberal application of traps. I presumed you would still wish to visit the village after the destruction of the teleportation circles and took the initiative. If that is not your desire, I apologize. We can collapse them easily.”

“No, that’s good,” Arkk said, pulling back. What he saw was exactly as Vezta described. “Don’t connect the passages with the surface yet. We might have trouble coming.”

“Trouble, Master?”

“Those inquisitors. They’re…” Arkk shook his head. “I’ll explain later. I want input from Olatt’an and Rekk’ar. First, this is Zullie.” Pausing to motion to his side, he found Zullie standing utterly still, wide-eyed with her mouth agape. “Zullie?”

Vezta’s eyes, both the glowing suns on her face as well as the smaller eyes dotted around her shoulders, wrists, and elsewhere shifted, focusing entirely on the woman she had been ignoring since appearing. After a moment, she cocked her head to the side. “Your latest minion appears to be faulty, Master.”

Arkk waved his hand in front of Zullie’s face, breaking the stupor. She blinked several times in a rapid fluttering before slowly turning her head toward Arkk. Although her head turned, her eyes were still locked on Vezta.

“This… isn’t a demihuman,” she whispered.

“I am the [SERVANT].”

“Zullie is a magical researcher from Cliff,” Arkk said. “I’ll be constructing quarters similar to my own and Ilya’s, but closer to the orc section of the fortress. I want you to teach her the lightning bolt spell after she gets settled.”

“Might I suggest placing her quarters near the library? That is the traditional location for magical research.”

Arkk paused, then nodded. “That’s doable.” Glancing to his side, he frowned at the woman who was once again staring. “Zullie,” he said, making her jump. “This is Vezta. She keeps the place tidy and running. And yes, she isn’t a demihuman. She’s pre-Calamity.”

“I… I…” Zullie’s jaw clamped shut. “If I were a magixenologist…”

“Try to get over the shock quickly,” Arkk said with a sigh. Ilya hadn’t acted like this. Neither had the orcs. Shaking his head, he glanced over to Vezta. “Gather everyone important for a meeting in… two hours. That includes Zullie and Dakka.”

“Understood. Shall I offer the malfunctioning human a tour while you construct sleeping quarters?”

Arkk nodded. “Best make sure the orcs know she is one of ours while you’re at it. I don’t want any accidents. Speaking of, has there been any trouble with them while I was gone?”

“There were some disgruntled murmurs that evolved into a small fight between a few of the orcs. Rekk’ar beat down the two most responsible, but several were involved. The two most injured are both recovering in the medical lair.”

“Permanent injuries?”

“Nothing particularly alarming. I tended to the worst wounds. I am no expert on orc physiology, but I would guess they will be back on their feet in another day or two.”

“I’ll speak with Rekk’ar then.”

Arkk didn’t bother to walk away. He instantly appeared in an empty room just down the hall from the library. A small pile of gold followed him. It was a rather small room and took a mere second to convert into the magical room that allowed inhabitants to construct their own private domiciles. The lair. If he hired more magical researchers in the future, he might have to figure out alternative living quarters, but for now, this should suffice for Zullie.

Quickly peeking into the [HEART] chamber, Arkk confirmed what Vezta had said. It was nearly impossible to stand anywhere without stepping on a pile of gold coins. Just how much gold was under the fortress anyway? A month ago, he might have fainted at the sight of all this wealth. Even now, knowing it all belonged to him had Arkk unsteady on his feet.

He wasn’t quite sure what building a proper treasury meant. As far as Arkk could tell, there wouldn’t be a problem just dumping it all into one of the many spare rooms the fortress had. He would have to ask Vezta later.

Before that, however, Arkk relocated out into the long tunnel that stretched between the fortress and Langleey Village. When Vezta had ordered the construction of the tunnel, she had done so with security in mind. Even though the [HEART] chamber was between the village and the orc section of the fortress, the tunnel stretched well past both before looping around. Any invading force that made it through the tunnel would have to face the orcs almost immediately after.

If Arkk had anything to say about it, an invading force wouldn’t make it through at all. Hearing about the abilities purifiers were said to possess did have him a little worried, but there wasn’t much he could do about that at the moment.

Whatever magic powered Fortress Al-Mir and the rooms it contained was a bit finicky in Arkk’s eyes. With a small pile of gold at his disposal, he could fashion a foundry that would make a king jealous. The fortress smithy could make expertly crafted tools, weapons, and even smaller things like doors and hinges. If he had a proper tailor, they could make the finest clothes in the land with all the expensive cloth and precision equipment that the fortress could provide.

However, the fortress seemed incapable of making an end product. He could expend gold to fill the tailor’s spools with bolts of the finest cloth, but he couldn’t make a cloak. Ingots of fine metal filled the smithy storage, but he couldn’t magically make a sword. He could make a room that would transform itself based on its occupants’ comfort needs, but he couldn’t make a room that came with a bed and desk if he so desired. At least not without heading to the drawing board to sketch that out. Even then, the desk and bed would be of far lower quality.

Vezta had said it back before he made the contract. The fortress wanted artisans for some reason. It needed intelligent beings to run the place.

Traps, as it turned out, counted as an end product. Something he couldn’t conjure up with a liberal application of gold. Yet, in a strange way, they were similar to rooms. He designated a location and determined the type of trap that he wanted, whereupon he would receive proper schematics to hand off to the blacksmith or whoever was required to build the thing.

Unfortunately, Arkk didn’t know much about trap building. Vezta didn’t have ready-made plans for traps. Not to mention, they seemed like it would be best to design bespoke traps for the location he was trying to defend.

Here, a long and narrow tunnel, Arkk had only two good ideas.

Dragging a lesser servant from elsewhere in the fortress, Arkk pointed along the tunnel. “Dig periodic pitfalls,” he said. It had worked on the orc chieftain. Large crevasses alone would work well to stymie intruders, but he was hoping to cover them with trapdoors that he could open at will.

Beyond pitfalls… there were probably a lot of things he could do. But having been to Cliff recently, Arkk took inspiration from the massive ballistae they had watching their front gate. Those things had been intended to throw log-sized arrows that would destroy catapults, trebuchets, or other large war machines. Presumably. He hadn’t asked anyone to confirm that suspicion.

In a narrow yet straight tunnel, a log-sized arrow would plow through an entire army if they tried to invade. Arkk doubted any army was going to come marching on the fortress but those inquisitors might. Although they hadn’t attacked him so far, after everything he had heard in Cliff from Zullie and Priest Heller, and what Vrox himself had said on their few encounters, Arkk doubted they would be all that happy to find Vezta or the fortress.

Maybe it was his contract with the [HEART], maybe it was the wealth, maybe it was a debt of gratitude toward Vezta, but he felt it was his responsibility to ensure that Fortress Al-Mir remained safe and secure.

Designating a location for a door at the far end of the tunnel—when doors were damaged, the fortress alerted Arkk, allowing him to get people ready to man the ballista or otherwise defend the place—Arkk felt he had at least a good start. He moved to the other tunnel, the one headed to Smilesville Burg, and repeated the same defenses over there. Once done, he moved to the smithy.

Detailed designs for the defensive parts needed were already up on the board. Or, at least, the metal parts were. Arkk presumed the wooden parts would have to come from elsewhere. He did not currently have a lumber processing room, so perhaps he would commission pieces from John. Or just invite the carpenter down into the fortress, not that Arkk thought he would want to live inside permanently.

They had sealed up all the fissures in the ceilings, but there was a certain temptation to open a few intentional areas for allowing a little sunlight to reach the living areas of the fortress and make it a little more palatable to live within. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be much of a fortress if it were full of holes.

Satisfied that things would proceed for the time being, Arkk focused on Rekk’ar. The burly orc was in the middle of a meal, seated in the large feasting hall not far from the kitchens. Arkk didn’t appear directly in front of the orc; Vezta didn’t mind sudden appearances, but popping out of nowhere tended to disturb most everyone else unless they were expecting it. Instead, Arkk appeared outside the door, which promptly swung open to admit his passage.

A few others were eating as well, all of whom looked up as Arkk walked by. Two looked like they weren’t sure if they should stand. Arkk gave them a brief nod of his head as a greeting but didn’t stop until he reached the head of a long table. Rekk’ar, notably, did not get up. He barely looked up from his roast chicken dinner.

“You’re back.”

“Only just,” Arkk said, taking the seat next to the orc. “I heard there was trouble while I was gone. Two people are in the medical lair?”

“Nothing that couldn’t be handled,” Rekk’ar grunted, tearing off a strip of chicken with his teeth.

“They’re getting restless,” Olatt’an said, walking alongside the table. He took a seat across from Arkk, setting a plate of chicken down as he did so. “I’ve seen it before among prisoners and ship crew. They become agitated, distraught, and occasionally violent from prolonged confinement. It isn’t so bad right now—those two have been at each other’s throats since I was in charge—but you can just feel the unease in the air. It won’t be the last time a fight breaks out like that.”

Arkk wasn’t at all surprised to hear that the old orc had been imprisoned before. He simply nodded. “I learned a bit about how mercenaries work while I was gone. I’m not sure what might be offered locally, but in the city, there were a variety of jobs that I think we could do. Maybe even enjoy.” Arkk glanced between the two orcs. “How do you feel about gorgons?”

That got Rekk’ar to stop eating. The green-skinned orc stared, eyes narrowing. Olatt’an, on the other hand, just started shaking his head with a few low chuckles.

“Gorgons?” Rekk’ar said after a long moment. “More than one?”

“The posting I saw didn’t say how many, exactly, but it said the mine was overrun. I presume that means at least a few.”

“I’m not here to throw my life away for you,” Rekk’ar snarled.

Arkk held up his hands, leaning back in the chair. “That was pretty much the advice I got when I was looking at the job. Just thought I’d ask.”

Rekk’ar bared his tusks before turning back to his food.

“In that case, there were several other things. I presume you don’t care what it is, within reason, as long as we get people some exercise and fresh air?”

“If gorgons are your upper limit, I would be fascinated to discover what ‘within reason’ means,” Olatt’an said, still chuckling.

“Don’t accept any job without running it by me first,” Rekk’ar said. With that, he dove back into his meal.

“Slightly too late for that,” Arkk said with a wince that he tried to keep off his face. At Rekk’ar’s glower, he quickly added, “Nothing on the level of gorgons, just a missing girl. I plan to have Vezta try to scry for her.”

The orc glowered but nodded his head. “Doesn’t sound like good exercise.”

“I’ll see about stopping by Smilesville Burg tomorrow.” The tunnel wasn’t finished yet, but the servants would continue their work overnight. If they dug a small shaft to the surface, he should be able to get out to the burg early on. “Sorry for disturbing your meal. I’d like to have a proper meeting in about an hour. Vezta will be by around then to collect you.”

Rekk’ar just grunted while Olatt’an waved him away as Arkk stood. Rekk’ar felt a little testy during that brief conversation, making Arkk wonder if he had actually been injured in the fight and was hiding it, if he was getting a little stir-crazy himself, or if he just didn’t like having his meal interrupted.

Whatever the case, Arkk walked away a few steps before teleporting once again.

“—shouldn’t be possible,” Zullie shouted, waving her arms around her new quarters.

Before, it had just been a carpeted chamber. A fairly small one at that. Zullie now stood in front of a thick bed, large enough for several people to share with comfort. A translucent sheer curtain hung from a single point on the wall, stretching to all four corners of the bed. Next to the bed, glowing crystals adorned a large desk. On top sat an alchemical station for concocting small potions and a small stack of books.

Zullie had a book in her hand, open to a page toward the end. She had her hand on the page, glaring at it.

Vezta simply stood to the side, faint smile looking a little more strained than usual.

“Is there a problem?” Arkk asked, stepping inside.

“You!” Zullie shouted, stomping over to him. She thrust the book out toward him, almost striking him in the face as she held it open for him to see. “What is the meaning of this?”

The page was filled with text in tight, neat scrawl. Handwritten, not made using a printing press. There was far too much to read at the moment, so Arkk gently pushed the book down to meet Zullie’s violet eyes. “Was your book damaged when we transported it?”

“It isn’t my book. I’ve never seen it before in my life. But it’s my spell,” she said. “I invented it. Why is it in a book that just appeared in the room? How did the room just appear? Why is it in my handwriting?”

Arkk had exactly zero answers for the woman. Looking over her shoulder, he met Vezta’s eyes.

The servant just shrugged. As she had said several times, she was just a servant. She knew a little magic, apparently from when her former master had possessed her then used that magic, and she knew about the [HEART]. The details of how it functioned were never made available to her.

“Magic,” Arkk said with a smile.

That was the wrong answer. He could see it in Zullie’s face.

Before she could start yelling again, he held up his hands. “I don’t know for sure, but I imagine whatever runs this place is pre-Calamity. Who knows how it really works? But that’s why I hired you, right? Unlock the mysteries of all this old magic… and maybe craft some spells with this old magic that are short enough to be worth using in active combat.”

“Pre-Calamity,” Zullie whispered to herself as she looked at the book with wide eyes, awed by whatever nonsense Arkk had just tried to placate her with.

He had no idea if it was even possible to figure out how anything here worked. But then, he wasn’t a spell researcher. Zullie was.

“Anyway, was just checking in. I’ll leave you to your tour,” Arkk said.

Before she could interrupt, he appeared outside a wooden door elsewhere in the fortress. Gently, Arkk tapped his knuckles against the door.

“Come in!”

Arkk stepped into the castle-like room that Ilya called her own. She sat at a large desk with several rolls of vellum set out before her. The outfit that the tailor servant had made was propped up on her bed, currently on the receiving end of intense scrutiny. As Arkk stepped closer to Ilya, she frowned as he looked over the papers. Each had a little sketch of clothing. Some dresses, some suits, others chemise with long gowns, surcoats, and more besides.

“What’s all this?” Arkk asked, motioning to the array of papers. “Getting into fashion?”

Ilya looked over them, then to the nice gown spread out on the bed. “It isn’t enough,” she said with a sigh. “You didn’t see them, but the clothing that the people at the Duke’s manor had would make this look like a peasant’s work clothes.”

“I thought it was a nice dress.”

“Compared to anything in Langleey, maybe. I just feel like we’ll be laughed out of any party we manage to get into. Assuming we can get into one in the first place.”

“We will,” Arkk said. “I have been stirring a bit of a plan for that.”

“Oh?”

“Not quite fully realized. It’ll take a bit to get running and has to do with the viscount we ran into. I’ll tell you about it with the others in an hour. We’re having a little meeting regarding what we learned in Cliff, so be ready.” Arkk looked over at the dress. “Though perhaps it would be a good thing if we could hire a proper tailor if you say it isn’t good enough.”

“It isn’t.”

“I wonder where we would find someone.”

Ilya frowned for a long moment, staring at the dress. She reached out and rubbed its long sleeve, then her eyebrows popped up. “I… might have an idea.”

“Oh?” Arkk said, returning her earlier question.

“Not quite realized… but why don’t you leave finding a tailor to me.”

“You know a tailor?” Arkk asked, not believing her for a moment. Having grown up with her, he knew what she knew and she did not know a tailor aside from Higgens in Langleey. They had already dismissed him as a possibility.

“I don’t know anyone specifically… Can I take a few orcs on a little road trip to the north? I remember my mother talking about her ancestral home. There have to be elves there both capable of making good clothes and willing to help her out.”

“You… want to go visit other elves?” Arkk said, suddenly feeling a tightening sensation in his chest. He tried to push it down, to ignore it.

Ilya noticed and promptly rolled her eyes. “Arkk. Please. This is for my mother, nothing else. Even if it was for something else,” she started, but stopped with a shake of her head. “I could try to go on my own, but I thought a few bodyguards would make the trip safer.”

“No. No. Don’t go alone,” Arkk said with a slow nod of his head. “If they agree to go, take the orcs with you.”

Ilya glared. “Are you paying them or not? Tell them to go, boss.”

“Point. I guess,” Arkk said with a sigh. “And it would get some of them out of here for a while.” It would be something to bring up with Olatt’an and Rekk’ar at the meeting. “When are you thinking you’re going to leave? And how soon?”

“We’ll set off in the morning. Then…” she shrugged. “A week after that to reach Marrowlands Fen, plus a few days there? And the same to return. Maybe more. I’ve never been there. I don’t know how long it will take to reach.”

“Give me something a little more defined at the meeting, but I’ll probably say yes.”

“Good. Then get out of here. I need to plan,” she said, then started pulling open drawers on her desk, mumbling to herself, “I need a map…”

Arkk smiled despite the unease in his chest, watching her work for a few moments before he turned. With how listless she had been after their arrival at Cliff, seeing her moving and working was a relief. Hopefully, she would keep it up.

Heading to the adjacent room, Arkk kicked off his boots and sat down on the bed, finally ready to rest for a while before the meeting started.

 

 

“Dakka,” Arkk said under his breath. “Are you aware that there are about eight demihumans following us?”

Arkk could see his employees wherever they were, in the fortress or out here in Cliff. He could see a little bit of the area around his employees as well. At least while outside the fortress. For those inside Fortress Al-Mir, he could see everything if he focused. It was an odd sort of vision. A bit like going cross-eyed from drinking too much, except instead of seeing two of whatever was in front of him, he saw whatever he was focused on.

Out here, in the periphery of Dakka, he could see several orcs, a lizardman, and two elves following some distance behind as he walked along the streets with Dakka at his side.

They had been following them since they left the Primrose.

“Cowards and weaklings,” Dakka said with a huff, glancing over her shoulder. As she did so, most of those following stopped and tried to look busy with anything else. That just had her scoffing. “I recognize a few of them. People I’ve been gambling with lately.”

“Have you been cheating?” Arkk asked, mildly exasperated.

“Hardly.”

“So, a little.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dakka said with a grunt. “We can take them.”

“I don’t want to take them,” Arkk hissed. “The inquisitors are already breathing down my neck. If I start throwing around forbidden magic—”

“Didn’t your new minion teach you a different lightning spell?”

“She isn’t a minion. You’re not a minion.” Ignoring Dakka’s scoff, Arkk continued, “She did, but I don’t think a seventeen-syllable spell that can only produce one bolt of lightning per incantation is actually valid for combat. How do other spellcasters do it?”

“Ask your new minion,” Dakka said with a shrug as they kept walking along the road. “Plans for the group behind us?”

“Stay out of dingy alleys? They won’t attack us in the open, will they?”

“They’ll probably stick around, keeping watch until we return. Jump us on the way back.” Dakka paused, then added, “Or they might head back and break into our room, hoping to get some coin that way.”

Arkk slowed down, frowning. Ilya was in the room. Ever since her little escapade to the Duke’s manor, she had not been all that lively. Even the promise that they would come back, properly prepared and ready to infiltrate one of the Duke’s parties hadn’t gotten her fully back to normal. It was her mother’s actions that bothered her.

To Arkk, it had sounded like a wise move on Alya’s part. Unless Ilya had very much misrepresented the situation in her retelling, it sounded like Ilya had been about to assassinate the Duke. Arkk didn’t like the Duke any more than Ilya did, but that was the worst possible decision. They would never be able to simply kill the Duke in the middle of his city and get away.

Thanks to Alya, he didn’t have to deal with his friend’s momentary lapse in judgment.

He still had to deal with his employee’s trouble, however.

“We can’t let them go back to the Primrose. Ilya could probably get away normally, but with her moping about? I’d be worried.”

“We are going to take them, then?” Dakka asked with a grin. “Next backstreet past that building is a good spot.”

Arkk shot Dakka a glare. “Why do you know good spots for this kind of stuff?”

The dumb orc just grinned wider, but her grin stalled as she put on a serious expression. “They won’t fight like we did,” Dakka said in a hushed tone. “Rough them up a little and they’ll run with their tail between their legs. Literally, in the case of the lizardman. Frying them is going to be more trouble than it is worth.”

“I wasn’t planning on frying them,” Arkk said as they turned down the indicated alley. “And those elves just stopped following us. I think they heard.”

“Good. Two we don’t have to worry about.” Dakka paused, then shrugged as she leaned up against one building halfway down the alley. “Don’t remember pissing off any elves anyway.”

“But all the others following us have valid reasons, I’m sure,” Arkk said with a sigh.

Dakka didn’t get to respond before a quartet of orcs rounded the corner, followed closely by a lizardman. She barely glanced at them, not budging from her spot against the wall where she leaned with her arms crossed. “Depends on how valid you think losing some coin is.”

“How much coin?”

Glancing down, Dakka grabbed a large pouch that clanked as it moved. It filled her hand completely. Although she was small for an orc, she was still larger than Arkk, making it quite the hefty sack of money. “About three of these. Mostly silver. A few gold.”

“Hey!” the orc at the head of the group yelled.

“I could just pay them off,” Arkk said, eyes still on Dakka. “I’m rich, apparently.”

“They’ll just want more and more.”

“I’m—”

“We’re talking here!” Dakka shouted at the orc who was interrupting. Then she adopted a kind of smile Arkk had seen on orcs now and again. The kind that fully bared the lower tusks. “I know you,” she said, staring at the orc. She cracked her neck back and forth. Loud pops echoed between the worn planks of the wooden buildings. “You listened to my advice and brought friends. This’ll be fun.”

“Fun,” Arkk scoffed. “I was hoping to bump into Hawkwood with you, and now—”

Arkk leaped to the side, narrowly dodging a stone. His eyes snapped to the lizardman who threw it from a sling. If he hadn’t seen it through his… whatever his observational vision might be called, it would have hit him square in the chest. Probably with enough force to crack a rib.

The lizardman was in the middle of fetching another stone from a pouch at his hip, but his motions slowed under Arkk’s glare. The stone slipped from his fingers, clunking against the ground. An orc faltered, staring at Arkk with wide eyes. Given that the orc had been about to strike Dakka with a wooden club, it was far from the most opportune time to let his guard down. Dakka’s fist met his face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Another orc, who had been ready to back up the first, jumped back well before Dakka hit the first. One orc, toward the back, turned and ran. The rest backed away slowly yet surely. One orc helped the fallen one up. Both turned and ran.

In a few seconds, the alley was empty.

Arkk looked around, making sure that Cliff’s guard force hadn’t marched up behind him, but there was no one there. Just him and Dakka.

“When you said we would have to rough them up, I thought you meant a bit more than that,” Arkk said with a frown. “You would think they would have put up more of a fight. Not that I’m complaining.”

“You mean, you didn’t do that on purpose?”

“Do… what?”

“That eye thing. Your eyes flashed red when that lizard threw the rock at you. Bright glowing red.”

“What? But…” Arkk trailed off, staring at himself from an outside perspective. As far as he could tell, he looked entirely normal.

“You’ve done it a few times,” Dakka said. “In the barrows once or twice, when Kazz’ak ambushed me. Those are just the times I saw it. I thought you were doing it on purpose. Glowing eyes are a pretty ominous omen. Figured you were trying to scare people.”

Arkk let out a small groan. “I think I need to talk to Vezta.”

“She has glowing eyes too.” Dakka shrugged. “Just saying…”

Shaking his head, Arkk looked down the backstreet. “They’re going to spread this around, aren’t they? Word of this is going to reach the inquisitors’ ears one way or another,” he said with a sigh. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome in Cliff.”

“Sorry,” Dakka said, sounding genuine. “Probably should have held back a bit in the gambling.”

“It’s fine,” Arkk said with a sigh. “We’re just leaving a little earlier than planned. Go back to Primrose. Get Ilya and the cart. I’ll grab Zullie. We’ll meet outside the gate.”

They had already been planning on leaving in the morning, intending to return in the future after having come up with a way to get into one of the Duke’s parties. One day early wouldn’t matter. He already had what he needed from the city.

The sooner he put some distance between himself and the inquisitors, the better. For some reason, he doubted that Darius Vrox would turn and run if his eyes flashed red.

“You aren’t worried about me walking back on my own?” Dakka asked, insincere tone clear in her voice.

“You were about ready to fight all of them with me sitting it out, weren’t you?”

“The people in this city are soft, Arkk. Compared to what I’ve lived through? Five orcs and their lizard pet are fodder to be pushed aside.”

“Exactly,” Arkk said, shaking his head. “Meet me at the gates outside the city.”

“Sure thing, boss.” With a lazy wave, Dakka headed back the way they had come.

Arkk turned away, heading in the opposite direction. He started slowly at first, then picked up the pace with every step until he was in a swift jog. The sooner they left, the better. Those inquisitors would hear about some human with glowing eyes and he wanted to be nowhere nearby when they did.

Hurrying past the large statue at the Cliff Magical Academy’s entrance and into its labyrinth of corridors, Arkk quickly found himself at the door to Zullie’s office. After their meeting with Ilya and Dakka, he had come back the next day to help pack. And to take a look at the magical books she had. Most of her books and equipment were at the Primrose, ready to be loaded into the cart. Zullie, however, wanted even more. Having seen her office, Arkk well knew that it had far more books than even Fortress Al-Mir’s library before he remodeled it.

He was entirely unsurprised to find her trying to fit two too many books into an open crate.

“There is a limit to how much we can pack on the cart before the horse starts having trouble,” Arkk said. One crate probably wasn’t going to hurt, but he could see five empty crates up against the wall just waiting to be filled.

Zullie, rectangular glasses hanging off the end of her nose, squinted at Arkk over the rims. Setting one of the offending books down, she shoved the glasses up her face and frowned. “Are you a spellcaster or not?”

“Uh…”

Slapping the lid on the crate and securing it with a little metal latch, she turned it on its side, showing off the bottom. On one of the thick planks that made up the crate, Zullie had inscribed a complex ritual circle. She slapped her hand to it, held it there for a moment, then pulled back. Bright white lines of magic covered the circle for a moment before fading to a dull, barely-visible glow.

Grabbing hold of the crate, Zullie hefted it up and tossed it at him. Arkk grimaced, leaning a bit too far forward in anticipation of the weight. When it hit, he had to quickly step forward to keep from falling at the lack of its expected weight. Steadying himself, he held the crate in one hand.

“This feels like holding one book,” Arkk said, flipping the crate upside-down to get a better look at the ritual circle. “Not twenty.”

“A featherweight ritual. You haven’t used one before? Don’t know how people get things done without them.”

“I only know a few rituals,” Arkk admitted, hesitant. She had seen his lightning spell and was interested in that but didn’t exactly want to frighten her off by revealing himself to be the country louse that he was. “One that is either fire or light and I’m not sure which or if I’m doing it wrong, a tracking ritual—”

“That is a fairly complex ritual to know while not knowing featherweight.”

“Yeah,” Arkk said with a shrug. “I’m kind of self-taught. Picked up a few other rituals from travelers to my village. Though I do know a teleportation ritual, I’m not sure exactly how to set a destination. Something I should talk about with Vezta,” Arkk mumbled to himself.

“A… what?”

“Is that not a commonly known ritual?”

“Teleportation?” Zullie narrowed her eyes. “I don’t even know what that word is supposed to mean.”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure either.”

“How are you not—”

“Zullie!”

The door flung open behind Arkk. Priest Heller, panting slightly, looked around the room with worry on his thin face. That worry abruptly vanished when he spotted Zullie standing upright at her desk. He looked at her, confused, before shaking his head. “Thought you fainted again.”

“And just why would you think that?”

“Last time an inquisitor pulled up to the academy, you were in trouble,” he said with a shrug. “Worried you needed help, but now that I see you don’t, I’m going to leave. If they are here for you, I don’t want to be anywhere nearby.” With a curt nod of his head, Heller vanished as quickly as he appeared, leaving the door to gently swing shut behind him.

“Inquisitors,” Zullie said, nose wrinkling. “Again?”

Arkk, tense, moved to the door and peered out down the corridor. The priest was hurrying down the hall away from the entrance and a few others were walking about. No sign of the inquisitors yet.

They couldn’t possibly know about his eyes already, could they?

“We need to leave.”

“Leave?” Zullie rolled her eyes. “They do this once a year or so. Harass me and my good work. I was asleep when he came by, so he’s come back for that. Darius will come and frown at me for a few minutes—”

“They aren’t here for you,” Arkk said. “They’re here for me. Is there another way out of this place? Other than the front entrance.”

“After you?”

“I can explain later.” Arkk paused, then glanced back to Zullie. “If you still want to go with me knowing the inquisitors are after me, that is.”

“We haven’t done anything since their last visit,” Zullie said, crossing her arms.

“For some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that Vrox won’t be too friendly if he catches me. I don’t want to start a fight here. I don’t know what kind of sorcery he knows, but even if I do beat him, I won’t be able to beat all the city’s guards.”

“You’re serious.”

Arkk didn’t even finish nodding his head before she grabbed his arm and dragged him out into the hall. She took off in haste, heading away from the entrance. Without a word, she led him down one corridor, another, then crossed around another long corridor.

“You owe me,” Zullie said as they entered into a much darker and less well-traveled section of the academy. “All my poor books that I hadn’t packed…”

“That is what you’re worried about?”

“The most valuable ones are with your cart. They’re still safe, right?”

Quickly checking on Ilya and Dakka, he found both just barely leaving the stables next to the Primrose. As far as he could tell, there were still six crates of books in the back. “Yeah.”

“Then it isn’t a great loss. The academy will take care of them. But…” Zullie sighed.

She didn’t stop walking.

The corridors were becoming dustier and dustier. The glowstones on the walls weren’t doing much glowing. He didn’t know the theory of why but presumed they needed some kind of magical upkeep to maintain their luminosity. “Where are we going?” Arkk asked, eying the tiles on the floor.

He had thought of it before, but this place was similar to Fortress Al-Mir. The tiles weren’t his compass rose tiles, but they were close enough that he wouldn’t have been surprised to find the two places had been built by the same people.

“The academy is built into some old ruins. Dwarven, I think.”

“I thought dwarfs were extinct.”

“Very old ruins,” Zullie corrected herself. “This whole mountain is filled with crossing passages and unused rooms. Only the front section is commonly used. Technically, these passages are off-limits. Rumor has it that foolish initiates wandered into the deeper tunnels and never wandered back out. I’ve never seen a skeleton back here; maybe I haven’t explored far enough.”

“Is there a way out?” Arkk asked. He didn’t like the idea of becoming one of those rumored skeletons.

“There are, but…” Zullie slowed, glancing back behind them. “Listen,” she said, holding up a hand.

Arkk didn’t hear anything, but her eyes widened.

Zullie glanced down at the floor under their feet. It was dim in the faded glowstone light, but the footprints in the dust were clear to see. Stepping away from Arkk, pushing him against the wall in the process, she held her hands out around her and began to spin in place, around and around. “Angin bertiup di sekitar saya dalam badai besar untuk menyapu musuh saya dari kaki mereka.”

If Arkk hadn’t been up against a wall, he would have been thrown off his feet from the sudden gale that ripped through the corridor. As it was, the crate of books ripped out from his grip and went skidding across the floor until it caught on the edge of a doorway and broke open, sending books everywhere down the hall.

Opening his jaw popped his ears, but he didn’t get a chance to ask about that spell before Zullie grabbed his hand and rushed down the hall, away from the broken crate. She took two turns—the floor on the way had been cleared of dust from her spell—and ducked into a room. She didn’t stop until she had pressed him back into the corner.

“What—”

“Do not move. You will break the spell,” she said, then motioned with her hands in front of them, holding them up with her palms facing toward the doorway. “Penyembunyian dari saksi mengambil bentuk apa yang paling diharapkan berdasarkan konteks daerah sekitarnya.”

Arkk braced himself, not wanting to get blown away. However, this wasn’t that wind spell. At first, he wasn’t sure what it was doing, but then he looked at Zullie in front of him and blinked in confusion. She was there… Yet, she was also just another stack of boxes in this old storage room they had found themselves in.

Arkk didn’t dare ask, not wanting to break her concentration. Soon enough, he didn’t want to ask for fear of alerting whoever was in the corridor. He could hear someone moving out there. Their boots thumped against the tile floors, slowly growing louder in a slow, steady rhythm. Every so often, the footsteps momentarily faded and were replaced with the sound of doors creaking open out in the hall.

The footsteps drew closer.

The woman he had seen with Vrox in Langleey stepped inside the storage room. In the dim light, the faint glow in her many scars was all the more apparent. The very center of her pupils lit up with the same yellow as her scars as her head slowly scanned the room, looking from one side to the other. When her gaze reached the corner they were hiding in, Zullie’s arms started trembling.

Arkk shuddered. No wonder the orcs had run off, assuming his eyes looked anything like that.

Agnete, if Arkk remembered her name right, didn’t do anything aside from turning and leaving. Her footsteps faded as she continued down the hall, occasionally stopping as she opened doors.

Zullie’s arms dropped to her sides, ending the spell, almost the moment that Agnete left. However, neither she nor Arkk moved while they could still hear those steps. A few minutes after that, Zullie looked back.

“Holy Light,” she said, voice a shaking whisper. “That wasn’t just an inquisitor. That was a purifier.”

“I have no idea what that means. She called herself Purifier Agnete. Or Vrox did, anyway.”

Zullie shook her head. “You’re the real deal, aren’t you? Forbidden magics and everything.”

“Uh…”

Zullie gripped his wrist and pulled him to the door. She glanced both ways, then started walking back the same way they had just come. “Good Light, I am even more excited.”

“Excited? You aren’t worried about the scary woman with glowing eyes?”

“Terrified. It is said that purifiers wield holy flame, capable of burning anything. Wood, rock, water, air. It doesn’t matter. They can even burn down the sky.”

“That sounds like an exaggeration. But in case it isn’t, let’s get as far away as we can.”

“Agreed. There should be a way out not far from here.”

That was the best news Arkk had heard in a long while. The sooner he was out of Cliff, the better.

He just had to hope the inquisitors wouldn’t follow him all the way back to Langleey.