Author: Scott Marlowe
Date: 2010-12-08 05:00:00+00:00
Description: Infernal engines consume the world and only a sorcerer's apprentice who knows nothing about magic can stop them. The Alchemancer series begins. Chaos erupts in the Barony of Fallmere when a surprise elemental attack destroys Norwynne Keep. Aaron Shepherd and Shanna Bonnerman survive, but Shanna is soon lost in the fallout of the keep's destruction while Aaron is forced to flee for his life. Unbeknownst to Aaron, Shanna becomes a captive of the enemy who destroyed their home. This enemy, a savant who claims to follow the path of science, speaks of ancient, infernal devices and a quest to reclai
Publisher: Umberland Press

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

THE FIVE ELEMENTS

Copyright © 2010 - 2012 by Scott F. Marlowe
All rights reserved.

scottmarlowe.com

First Edition: September 2010

Cover by CreativIndie Covers (bookcovers.creativindie.com), glyphs by Obsidian Dawn (obsidiandawn.com), map by Jared Blando (theredepic.com)

Table of Contents
OTHER WORKS BY SCOTT MARLOWE
WORLD OF UHL
A NOTE ABOUT MAPS
MAP
THE PLAYERS
1. Assassin
2. Waves
3. The Flood
4. Raiders
5. Captured
6. Escape
7. Promises
8. The Summoning
9. Ursool
10. A Change of Fortune
Witch's Interlude I
11. Houndmaster
12. The Four Elements
13. The Hounds of Hell
Witch's Interlude II
14. Attunement
15. Wildemoore Manor
16. Cauldron Mountain
17. Betrayal
18. Amongst the Clouds
19. The Last Hunt
20. The Final Betrayal
21. The Fifth Element
22. Friendship
LEAVE A REVIEW
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

OTHER WORKS BY SCOTT MARLOWE

Novels
http://www.scottmarlowe.com/post/My-Novels.aspx

Series

The Alchemancer series

Book 1: The Five Elements
Book 2: The Nullification Engine (forthcoming)

Standalone

The Hall of the Wood

Short Stories

Fine Wine
http://www.scottmarlowe.com/post/Short-Fiction-Fine-Wine.aspx

Killing the Dead
http://www.scottmarlowe.com/post/Killing-the-Dead-a-fantasy-short-by-Scott-F-Marlowe.aspx

WORLD OF UHL

The Five Elements is a tale of the World of Uhl.

Find out more about the World of Uhl at
http://www.worldofuhl.com

A NOTE ABOUT MAPS

Maps, eBooks, and eReaders do not always mix well. If you have difficulty viewing the map included in this eBook or simply wish to see a larger version, I encourage you to open your favorite browser and view the map on the World of Uhl (worldofuhl.com/maps.html) site.

MAP

THE PLAYERS

Aaron: Scholar, alchemist, sorcerer's apprentice.

Ansanom: Master sorcerer of Wildemoore Manor.

Corrin: A bully. Leader of the Jackals.

Elsanar: Master sorcerer of Norwynne Keep.

Engus Rul: A dwarven raider. Second-in-command after Kelgin.

Ensel Rhe Alon: An eslar mercenary in the employ of Norwynne's sorcerers.

Erlek: Savant, scholar, man of science.

Erlek's Tool: Erlek's apprentice.

Jadjin: A healer.

Kelgin Blackhand: Dwarven clan leader of Fire Rock. Wielder of Soljilnor, the Flaming Cutter.

Keln: A dwarven raider.

Krosus: Houndmaster, demon. He leads a pack of demonic hounds.

Mirna: Erlek's servant.

Nala: A woman from Norwynne.

Nora: Norwynne's master soapmaker.

Rail: A boy from Norwynne.

Rion: The youngest of the three master sorcerers of Norwynne Keep.

Serena Walkerton: Sorcerer's apprentice.

Shanna Bonnerman: Soapmaker's apprentice. Best friend to Aaron.

Tarn Galangaul: Elementalist.

Tippin Roe: An army sergeant.

Tom: A cabin boy.

Ursool: A witch. Ally of Ensel Rhe.

Vuller: Lord of Norwynne Keep. Baron of Fallmere.

And they allowed Apollonius to ask questions; and he asked them of what they thought the cosmos was composed; but they replied:

"Of elements."

"Are there then four?" he asked.

"Not four," said Iarchas, "but five."

"And how can there be a fifth," said Apollonius, "alongside of water and air and earth and fire?"

"There is the ether," replied the other, "which we must regard as the stuff of which gods are made; for just as all mortal creatures inhale the air, so do immortal and divine natures inhale the ether."

- The Life of Apollonius of Tyana, Philostratus, 220AD

1. Assassin

AARON KNEW TWO JACKALS FOLLOWED him. It didn't really matter which ones since they were all bigger, stronger, and of a like mind when it came to tormenting him, but he supposed one of them was Elof and the other, Cliff. They'd both been there yesterday with Corrin when the three of them had finally needled Aaron to the point of retaliation. Most of the time, he took their abuse, knowing it was really just a matter of endurance. Let them get it out of their system and they'd leave him alone the rest of the day. But this time they'd picked and picked until he'd finally had enough. He didn't even remember taking the stopper off one of the vials he kept tucked into his lab vest. He wore the vest everywhere, whether he was in his master's laboratory or out and about delivering missives as he was now. One never knew when the opportunity for experimentation might present itself, his father had always been fond of saying. Though Aaron had not remembered unstoppering the vial, his choice of that particular one from the dozen or so he kept on his person was not without reason he realized the moment after he'd splashed the contents across all three of their faces. A simple reagent, the alchemical was used to detect and measure the reaction of other substances. But this particular solution also had the effect of inducing a maddening itch when it came into contact with one's skin. Getting away from them after that had been easy, but it had not been without its regrets, for Aaron knew a reckoning was coming. This, then, was it.

Aaron had never really been sure why they disliked him so much. The best explanation was either jealousy, because of his abrupt rise in station from miller's son to sorcerer's apprentice, or fear of the unknown, brought about by the experiments he and Master Elsanar performed outside the city walls. True, such experiments often involved dazzling arrays of light and bizarre noises caused by the transfer and consolidation of energy, but there was no real mystery to such trials. It was all a matter of simple physics, Nuclidean power convergence, and a myriad of alchemical reactions. He'd tried once to explain such things to Corrin, the leader of the Jackals, to show that despite his being a sorcerer's apprentice, he really wasn't that different from anyone else at the keep. If one considered getting stuffed into a garbage chute a mild response, then his explanation had been taken very well.

No explanation was going to get him out of his current predicament, though. For the time being, the pair behind him kept their distance. Like their gang's namesakes, they were flushing him out, leading him towards others who were no doubt waiting on the other side of Beming Bridge or somewhere just beyond amidst the bustle of the marketplace. Never mind that this was already Aaron's intended path and so they weren't leading him anywhere he hadn't already planned on going, but still he couldn't help but feel trapped. From a logical perspective, they'd picked a good place to ambush him. With the way behind blocked by the pair's presence and only the bridge ahead, he had to enter the marketplace. There being no other options open to him, Aaron went about crossing the bridge. At the other side, he hesitated only a moment before plunging himself into the crowd. Though his satchel was now empty of his master's letters, he kept one arm wrapped around it just in case some pickpocket took an unhealthy interest. Aaron let the natural movement of the crowd take him. He'd no idea where his other pursuers might be lurking, so he didn't think direction really mattered. Wondering, however, if a straight-line path through the square was too predictable, he turned ninety degrees and fought the tide for a few agonizing moments before breaking free and finding himself standing before a stall where wooden figurines were laid out for sale.

Aaron had little use for such novelties, but something in the workmanship caught his eye. Each of the pieces was of a different person or animal, and all were smooth and polished. Without thinking, he picked one up. The carving was of a soldier dressed in light armor. It was about as big as Aaron's hand and stood at ease with one wooden hand upon the pommel of a sheathed sword and the other holding a footman's shield. The wood was walnut and carved from a single block.

"That one there is the Protector," said the man behind the display. He spoke with a Vrannan accent and flashed Aaron a smile missing several front teeth. "He'll guard you day and night. You need only keep him close. He's yours for eight drams."

Aaron returned the figurine to where he'd found it.

"It's very beautiful workmanship, sir, but I don't need protecting." It was a lie, especially given his current circumstances, but it seemed the best way to express his disinterest in buying the trinket.

The man's grin widened. "I chop and carve the wood myself. Never really know what I'm going to carve until I get started on each block." He picked up one of the figurines. The man's hands were dry and calloused, with nicks and cuts long healed over. The carving he had selected was of an old woman, bent and gnarled. "It's Blackwood walnut. Ever hear tell of the Blackwoods?"

The Blackwood Forest was a place of fairy tales. Aaron didn't think it really existed. He told the merchant as much.

"Not true. I've been there myself. The wood is magic. I only take what's already fallen, otherwise I'd probably not be here talkin' to you. You think I jest when I say the soldier there will protect you? He will. He's enchanted to do just that."

Aaron nodded, not really believing him but not wanting to get into a debate about it, either. It wasn't that he didn't believe in magic. On the contrary, he was surrounded by it on an almost daily basis. He just doubted these figurines possessed any sort of enchantment. Aaron supposed his encorder, which measured energy, might reveal the truth, but such a display would be rude.

"What about that one?" Aaron gestured at the hunched figurine the man was still holding.

"Oh, this one?" He returned it to the table. "You don't want her. She's a witch. She'd cause you no end of trouble." His wink caused Aaron to smile. "As for the protecting, everyone needs protecting every once in a while."

Aaron's eyes returned to the soldier figurine. He picked it up again, eyeing it. On impulse, he made an offer. "I'll give you four drams for him."

They haggled briefly, settling on a price that split the difference. The man thanked Aaron for the sale and was just turning away to see to other customers when Aaron, fingering the smoothness of his new piece, asked, "What about the soldier? If everyone needs protecting, who protects him?"

The seller knew the answer to that straight off. "You do now, young sir."

Aaron nodded, and though he stared at the soldier for a moment longer, he finally opened his satchel and placed it inside.

As he turned back, intent on disappearing into the mass of moving bodies, rough hands grabbed him from behind. The merchant, whose attention was drawn elsewhere, noticed nothing. Aaron caught a brief glimpse of sneering faces before a hood was pulled over his head. He twisted and strained until a punch to the gut doubled him over and rendered him helpless. He was lifted, one arm wrapped about his torso and another around his legs, then carried away. If anyone noticed what was happening they made no move to interfere. Noise from the square fell away and, for a time, Aaron heard only the panting of his captors as their feet scurried across Norwynne's cobbled streets. Gulls screamed overhead while the crash of waves from the Barrens grew louder with each passing moment. Noise from the city faded and the wind, unhindered of a sudden by walls or dwellings, penetrated Aaron's clothing, sending a chill through him. He heard a boot splash in a puddle. Pant legs swished through tall grass. If his estimate of their rate of travel was accurate, they were in a field outside the walls. All at once, a burst of hollering broke out ahead. Aaron’s captors stopped only when they were thoroughly surrounded by the noise.

"Time to see if the mighty sorcerer's apprentice can fly!"

Whoops, hollers, and a raucous bedlam of laughter drowned out the sound of waves pounding the nearby cliffs.

Aaron was dumped on his back into something that felt very much like a large bowl that accommodated only his torso, leaving his legs dangling. Cold water sloshed at his arrival, soaking him through and causing him to gasp as its chill shot through him. Without warning the hood was yanked off. Right away, Aaron recognized his predicament. The thick timber crossbeams, a horizontal center cross, and a thick skein of rope tightly wound at the base between his bent knees confirmed that he'd been dumped into the basket of a catapult's throwing arm. Though relegated to ceremonial duty, Aaron knew the siege engine still functioned well enough. In a panic, Aaron tried to lift himself from the basket, but a meaty paw forced him back down.

"Where you goin', Squeak? Don't you wanna fly?"

Corrin leaned over Aaron and let loose a puff of breath so foul Aaron screwed up his face and sank as far as he could just to get away from the stench. Corrin was an ogre of a boy, a brute whose beady eyes, bull nose, stringy mop of hair, and club foot had to mark him as the saddest, ugliest scamp in all of Uhl. His appearance was not made any better by the rash and telltale signs of nails scratching across his cheeks where Aaron had splashed the reagent upon him. Plenty ridiculed Corrin over his appearance. Aaron never had, though. Such cruelty did not suit his disposition. That, and he also knew what it was like to be different. When he’d first met Corrin, Aaron had tried commiserating with him. That had not gone well, for Corrin had mistaken empathy for pity and hated him for it. Since then, Aaron had been marked as the bully's favorite target. The nickname Corrin had anointed him with, 'Squeak', had come about because, starting around two years ago, Aaron's voice had begun to change, often rising in pitch at the most inopportune times. Even though the embarrassing instances had decreased in frequency of late, Corrin continued to use the tired moniker instead of his proper one.

A crowd had gathered, obviously tipped off to what the Jackals had planned. Spread out across the misty field were many familiar, but not friendly, faces. Though Aaron liked to think none of them truly wished to see him harmed, they were all jeering and, possessed of a mob mentality, joined together in calling for Aaron to make good on his claim or else have Corrin do it for him. That claim had been made over a year ago. No doubt the recent reagent dousing had rekindled thoughts in Corrin's mind of making Aaron prove his assertion once and for all. Which meant in order for him to get out of this Aaron only needed to figure out how to fly.

Corrin dragged himself onto one of the catapult's horizontal crossbeams. Balancing there was no small feat given his misshapen lump of a foot, but he managed. With one hand holding himself firm, he swept his other across the crowd.

"We've gathered here today to see if a Squeak can fly!" Corrin soaked up the resounding outburst of laughter. Only when he'd had his fill did he stab a finger down at Aaron. "This one swore to all of us—"

"I never swore," Aaron said in a low voice, splashing at the water that had pooled at his stomach.

"–that he could fly. But did he?"

The crowd's response came as one.

"No!"

Aaron wanted to point out that most of them hadn't actually been there, so how would they have known what he'd said, but he was not given the opportunity.

"Has he?" Corrin continued.

"No!"

"Will he?" Corrin didn't wait this time. "Oh, one way or another, he will!"

The crowd erupted.

Corrin took his time basking in the shouts of encouragement and laughter before he lowered himself from his perch. He fixed his beady stare on Aaron, speaking low so that only those closest heard him. "I'd give you one more chance to show us all up, Squeak, but we both know you don't have it in you." Then he turned and chuckled at his Jackals. "I bet he goes right over the cliff!"

Oh, yes, the cliffs, Aaron thought. He raised himself a little on his elbows, enough to gauge his distance from the edge. Folk called the cliffs the Breakers, though Aaron had always thought the rocks scattered at their base deserved the name more than the cliffs themselves. In any case, the cliffs represented a hundred feet of sheer descent with shallows and ship-breaking reefs waiting for him at the bottom. If they really meant to fire the catapult with him in it—and Aaron had no doubts they did—then an already bad day was about to get much worse. Briefly, Aaron thought about the soldier figurine, still stowed away in the satchel, and its so-called 'protection'. The bullies knew better than to mess with Tower property, and so the soldier had remained undiscovered. Aaron didn't really care if they took it away from him, for he'd never really had any faith in its enchantment. It was up to him to think of some way out of this or find himself dashed across the rocks below. His options were few: escape by means undetermined, convince Corrin and his gang to not go through with it (fat chance of that), or find a way to disable the machine without getting out of the basket. None seemed feasible. Yet as the wheels in his mind continued to turn, he suddenly remembered something that might prove important. It had rained that afternoon. Moving his head slowly so as not to arouse suspicion, he looked more closely at the firing mechanism. The throwing arm, trigger, and tightly wound rope that provided the arm's spring were all soaked through. Especially the rope. Aaron chewed his lip for a moment before settling back down. Suddenly, he was no longer worried.

While the mob whooped and hollered, Corrin set his Jackals into action. Two manned the firing lever while a pair—Elof and Cliff, no less, whose faces were still red from scratching—moved to stand just close enough to Aaron to make sure he didn't go anywhere. They must have thought he'd given up when he didn't make one last attempt at escape. Elof shrugged, and then Corrin gave the order to 'fire!'.

The firing lever was pulled. The catapult lurched as the coiled rope was released. The great throwing arm jolted forward, but it was only a short jolt. It lifted two feet, then slowed across two more before finally stopping altogether. In all, it had not even risen half the distance to the center cross. Though jarred, Aaron remained safely ensconced in the basket.

He stayed there for just a moment before he slid out, avoiding the outstretched arms of his guards to run lightly down the throwing arm. Landing at the base, he took in the confused, surprised, and outright annoyed expressions of his tormentors first. The mob, so eager to see him 'fly', fell into murmurs and then silence. Knowing the moment was his, Aaron swept an arm across the ensemble.

"And now, for my next trick," he said, loud enough for all to hear, "I will make myself disappear!" He couldn't really, but it seemed like the right thing to say under the circumstances.

Corrin was not amused.

"I'll make you disappear, Squeak!"

With hands made into fists and the nostrils of his bull nose flared, the ogre lunged forward. He wasn't close enough to grab Aaron. Nor was he close enough to knock him from his perch. But the sight of those massive fists made Aaron fall from the engine all the same. He landed flat on his back in the muddy grass.

"Ha!" Anger turned to mirth as Corrin stopped, slapped a knee, and laughed. "Now that's a good trick, Squeak!"

The others—first the Jackals and then the crowd—added their laughter to his. Some amongst them pointed. Others doubled over. They all enjoyed watching as Aaron struggled to rise. He slipped once on the slick grass—an action which set off the onlookers all the more—but managed to keep his feet and stand. Shaking mud from his hands, Aaron looked at the faces of those who mocked him. He should be angry. He thought he almost felt a sensation—a burning—that struggled to flare deep within his chest. But the spark only glowed and then went out as clear thought prevailed. There was fantasy, where he leaped at each of the Jackals and laid them low, and then there was reality, with Aaron knowing he was too small to do anything to Corrin and too alone to take on any of the others. He had a hard time working up any ire against the crowd. They were only there because he'd opened his big mouth. He could get angry, but what would he do with it? Better to count his blessings and hope the Jackals just let him go. He might even—

"Hey, Clubfoot!"

The words, or rather the girl who had spoken them, brought an instant end to the heckling. From the opposite side of the crowd, a murmur, accompanied by an occasional cheer, swept like a wave through the gathering. Then a lane began to form through the center of the mob's ranks. Down the widening avenue came Shanna. Not too fast, but not too slow, she was a powerful wind cleaving a path before her. Every step was methodical, every swish of her arms a subtle signal to Aaron's captors that the hammer was about to fall. The message was written in the hard line of her jaw and in the fiery blue of her eyes. Her concentration—her fury, if Aaron was reading her expression correctly—was so focused that she did not spare Aaron a single glance. She was all business now, come to confront a bully. Such niceties would not do.

Shanna stopped a stone's throw from the ogre and his cronies. Planting her feet, she crossed her arms across her chest. "You should know by now what happens to people who pick on my friends, Clubfoot," she said.

Corrin winced, either at the sound of his own hated moniker or from the memories of their last encounter. Either way, it was reaction enough to cause Shanna's lips to turn in the faintest of smirks.

Corrin looked from his cronies, who were slipping away from him now, to the crowd, which had changed sides with characteristic fickleness. Shanna had thrown down a gauntlet and Corrin knew it. It was on him to respond in like fashion, else surrender more than just this battle. Corrin took a visible breath and squared his shoulders.

"I know what's going to happen this time, girly."

Shanna's demeanor changed. Not everyone saw it, but they all felt it. Corrin most of all. Small hands fell to her sides and balled into fists. The smirk faded. A shiver of tension visibly coursed through her body. As if sensing the change in mood, the gray sky turned darker and the coastal winds gusted hard enough to cause some in the crowd to lose their balance. Not Shanna. The wind blew at her from every direction at once, whipping the length of her dark, dark hair into a dance about her face. But it did not move her. It never did.

"What did you just call me?" she asked, spitting out the words like acid.

Just like that, Corrin's resolve melted.

The wind abated, leaving the field bathed in near silence but for the methodical swish of Shanna's pant legs as she strode towards Corrin. The bully held his ground, but it was with a visible lean that grew more noticeable the closer Shanna drew. Then she stood before him. Corrin was half a head taller than she was and much larger, but size made no difference. Shanna had only to raise a single fist to set Corrin blathering.

"Aw, c'mon," he said. "I was just kiddin'. I didn't mean nothin' by sayin' that."

Shanna's lips remained tightly pursed, and Aaron saw something he didn't like in his friend's face. In the next instant, her fist sprang at Corrin like a striking serpent. Corrin threw up his arms, but it was for naught. The blow never landed. Unbalanced, with head turned and eyes scrunched shut, Shanna barely had to push Corrin to topple him. The bully's bulbous body smacked the wet ground with a sound heard by all. Shanna stood over him then, all five feet of her, a look of triumph played out across her features as if she were a warrior and Corrin a fallen giant. Satisfaction illuminated her eyes and the smirk returned.

"Now," Shanna said, one hand caressing the hilt of a small knife belted at her waist, "isn't this exactly what happened last time?"

Not waiting for an answer, she faced the crowd once more and lifted her arms in victory. Cheers greeted her. Triumph sounded even from Corrin's Jackals, whose loyalty was thin indeed.

From his place on the ground, Corrin glared at all of them, but he didn't dare get up.

While Aaron was imminently glad for Shanna's presence, he thought it would have been best if she'd not come at all. She had, though, and she'd saved him, if not from the catapult then at least from the punches that were sure to have come next. As Aaron moved to stand next to his friend, he muttered a quick thank you.

Shanna smiled. "Of course, Aaron."

"We should probably go," he added.

"Not yet." She returned her attention to Corrin. "Clubby here needs to apologize for putting you into that contraption."

Aaron looked at Corrin. He saw anger in the boy's face, but he also saw wounded pride and, though Corrin did his best to hide it, shame. There wasn't anything Aaron could say to Corrin that he wouldn't pay for later and so he said only, "No, it’s okay. Let's just go." Aaron took Shanna by one arm and started to pull her away. She didn't resist, though she did turn to level one final jab at her fallen opponent.

"Your arse may be as big as a dragon's, Clubby," she said, loud enough for all to hear, "but I'll still kick it halfway across the Barrens if you bother any of my friends again!"

Then she spun out of Aaron's grasp and skipped ahead into the crowd. She went amongst them as if a conquering hero, smiling and slapping any outstretched hand held her way. Aaron followed in her wake, his steps not nearly as enthusiastic. No one looked at or paid any particular attention to him, which was perfectly alright with him. He'd had enough of their attention for one day. Now, he wanted nothing more than to go home, put on some dry clothes, and spend the remainder of the evening reading from the odd assortment of scrolls and tomes that comprised his current reading pile. He told Shanna as much the moment she'd turned around to see what was taking him so long.

"I'm wet, cold, and besides," Aaron said, gripping one end of his tunic and wringing water from it, "it's getting late."

Around them, the crowd began to disperse. Corrin had finally risen, but he was more occupied now with knocking his gang members around for not coming to his aid than seeking any sort of retribution.

"Is not," Shanna said. "It's only five o'clock."

Aaron glanced at the gray sky. "More like six."

"So, six." Shanna took Aaron's hand. "We'll find you some dry clothes and something hot to eat. You'll be as good as new!"

Aaron shook his head. "I can't, Shanna. I still have work to do before—"

"Work, work, work. You're so boring sometimes, Aaron."

"I am not. I just have—"

"Oh, c'mon, Aaron." She batted her eyes at him, flashing that mesmerizing smile of hers. Shanna knew all too well the hypnotic effect it had over him. He knew it, too, though such knowledge never seemed to help free him from its influence. Once, he'd tried to measure the energy produced by his reaction to it. Every emission had an associated frequency. Knowing that frequency opened the possibility of manipulating the reaction, though determining such a measurement was really only the first step as the process was ultimately much more complex than just that. Which is not to say that Aaron necessarily wanted to free himself from what he felt when he was around Shanna, but curiosity got the better of him and he knew he had to at least explore the possibilities. Of course, Shanna had asked him what in the world he was doing that one time they'd met up when, without a single word, he'd turned his encorder on himself. She'd tolerated that much with an odd stare. But when he'd started to take readings from her own person, she'd lost patience and batted the device away. When she had insisted on an explanation, he'd had a hard time formulating one that didn't reveal his feelings for her. Ultimately, he had managed some vague mutterings that he was quite sure Shanna had seen right through. Now, unable to help himself, Aaron nodded in acquiescence.

"There'll still be plenty of time to read your dusty old books," Shanna said.

They re-entered the city through a postern gate. Others walking along with them continued to congratulate Shanna on her victory. No one acknowledged Aaron's presence; it was all too easy to just ignore him. The two guards stationed beneath the portcullis, who had watched with amusement as Aaron had been carried out, looked on with bored expressions now as scamp after scamp passed through their gate. Within the city walls, the group thinned until Aaron and Shanna walked alone. They smacked their feet as they went, sloughing mud from their shoes as they passed shops just closing and balconied apartments just coming to life. They turned at an alley. Mid-way down its length, Shanna stopped Aaron in his tracks with a finger to her lips.

Her voice was a whisper. "Wait here."

"Shanna, what—"

But she was already gone, melting away into the growing darkness. She returned minutes later with a cloak the color of burlap draped over one arm. With a smile, she tossed it at him. Aaron caught and unfurled it.

"What is this for?" Aaron asked.

"To keep you warm, of course."

Aaron groaned. "I don't need a stolen cloak to keep me warm."

"I didn't steal it! I borrowed it. There's a laundry line and—you said you were cold, right?" When Aaron didn't answer, she said, "Look, don't worry. I'll return it… someday."

"Someday?" Aaron looked the cloak over. It was good wool and only slightly too long by the look of it. "I have my own, you know."

"Not here you don't."

True, he'd left his in his room. Even as he fought to suppress a shiver, he asked, "You will return it, won't you? First chance you get?"

"Of course."

Aaron was not convinced.

Shanna rolled her eyes. She drew a line across her stomach, enacting the age old pact to see something through, else face evisceration. "Promise."

"You better." Draping the cloak around his shoulders, Aaron was immediately grateful for its presence. He could have done with a dry shirt and pants too, but he wasn't about to encourage Shanna.

"Now," Shanna said, "let's go find something to eat."

They navigated back-alleys, holding to the shadows like thieves in the gathering dusk. It was a game of theirs that they hadn't quite outgrown. They saw few people. Once, a group of draymen loading draft and cart behind a shop. Another time, a scamp emerging from a doorway with a sack of trash in hand. Only when, unavoidably, they emerged out onto one of the main thoroughfares did they see a greater variety of people. Shopkeepers swept porches and shuttered stores. A thin line emerged from a butcher shop with packaged meats for dinner. Children much younger than either Aaron or Shanna played at chasing games. Above, from open windows or small balconies, they heard the sounds of adults chatting, of crockery being put to use and, as they reentered the solitude of the next alley, the sweet melody of a pipe playing. Such serenity carried them until it was replaced by an aroma they both recognized instantly: the succulent dumplings and sweet dinner rolls of Lena's Bakery.

"Beat you there!"

Shanna was off before the last word escaped her lips. Aaron bounded after her, but Shanna was too fast. She emerged from the alley half a dozen paces ahead of him, out onto the cobbles of Sandy Shore Lane where she promptly disappeared around the corner. Aaron didn't miss a beat. By the time he realized Shanna had come to a full and complete stop, it was too late to keep from crashing into her. He drove them both forward, crashing them into a figure garbed in the midnight satin robes of a keep sorcerer. Unable to keep their balance, they all went down in a tangled mass.

"Gods damn it!"

Aaron winced. Not at the curse, which he'd heard many times before, but at the voice which uttered it. Master Rion was pleasant enough most of the time, but when that curse sprang from his mouth, his mood was neither pleasant nor forgiving.

Aaron managed to rise halfway before Shanna's own attempt at disentangling herself dragged him back down. The act elicited a giggle from Shanna and something akin to a growl from the sorcerer. Another effort, and first Aaron and then Shanna stood.

"I-I'm sorry, Master Rion," Aaron said. "We didn't see you. We…" There were few words to explain such clumsiness. "We're both very sorry, sir. May I help you up?"

Master Rion shooed Aaron's hand away as he pushed himself up with his staff. The wizard was tall and lean, his ordinarily pristine robes now streaked with the road's grime. He made an effort to brush it away, but soon realized the futility and gave up. He turned a look completely lacking in amusement upon Aaron and Shanna.

Twelve sorcerers—three of them masters—called Norwynne home. While every one of them held sway over Aaron and the other apprentices, only the three were held in nearly as high of regard as the lord of Norwynne himself. Their mere presence demanded respect, to say nothing of the reverence due them by one of their own. Aaron, as apprentice to the greatest of the three, was all too aware of this. Shanna, however, was not. While Aaron did his best to look the role of a soldier fallen into ranks, Shanna was bent at the waist, her long, dark hair cascading almost to the street as she inspected the mess their tumbling had made of her pants. Aaron cleared his throat while Master Rion, brow narrowed, looked on. Shanna, finally looking up, made a quick display as if to say, "Oh", before she straightened.

Words spilled from Aaron. "We weren't watching where we were going, sir. We—"

"You weren't watching where you were going!" Shanna said. "I, on the other hand—"

Aaron jabbed her with an elbow. "Really, Master Rion, we weren't watching where we were going. We're very sorry to have, ah, knocked you over… sir. It will never happen again."

"Never?" One brow arched. "If I had a dram for every time I've heard that…" Master Rion wiped a hand across the stubble of his cheek. "There comes a time when such behavior will simply not do. Both of you—how old are you?" Rion looked from one to the other. "Thirteen, fourteen?"

"Fifteen," Shanna said.

Master Rion waited until the clop and rattle of a passing carriage had finished rolling past. "Fifteen, then. Old enough to have grown out of such childish antics. Running through the streets as if your very arses were on fire! Aaron!" Aaron didn't think he could straighten any further, though he tried. "You are an apprentice to Master Elsanar! Surely it is time you acted according to your station. As a member of the keep's coterie, your peers sit in elevated positions, not down amongst—"

Realizing the direction of his lecture did not apply to everyone in their present company, Master Rion's voice trailed off. There followed a moment's awkward silence which extended into a few more seconds before the sorcerer made a show of clearing his throat. "The both of you simply need to take more care." Then, he addressed only Aaron as he said, "I'll be taking over tomorrow morning's lesson from Master Elsanar. Do not be late." Without another word, the sorcerer strode past them and moments later melted into the street's activity.

Aaron looked at his friend, trying to gauge her mood. From the moment Master Rion had made his inference her face had become a mask of stone that still had not dissolved. "You still hungry?" No response. "How about we go to Graggly's? Bet we'll still have time to see the sunset." The gray above showed no signs of breaking up, but that didn't matter right now.

"What?" she said, as if she'd just risen from a stupor and heard none of his words. "Yes. Yes, let's go."

They stopped at Lena's as planned where Aaron paid a keenar for a small assortment of confections that he stowed away in his satchel next to the soldier, which he realized once more had done him no good. They happened upon fewer and fewer keep-folk as they entered the old Soldiers' Quartering where Graggly's Tower—its proper name was Wynngard Tower—stood tall and proud. Once, the district had housed a good number of the keep's soldiery. But a score of years with no enemies had forced consolidation and the abandonment of surplus housing and training facilities. The Quartering's barracks and towers stood deserted, fallen into disrepair from simple disuse and neglect. Nowadays, few people saw any reason to come this way. Those who did—vagrants, mostly—took up residence in quiet corners where they remained indiscreet. For Aaron and Shanna, the Quartering, and Graggly's Tower specifically, had always been the perfect place to get away from everything. But for the two of them, few ever set foot in the tower. Graggly, or rather his ghost, saw to that.

Stories told how the mad soldier had decided to jump to his death rather than abandon his post when the tower had finally been decommissioned during the shutting down of the Quartering. To this day, it was said his ghost still haunted the place. It was a ridiculous story, or so Aaron had told himself over and over the first time Shanna had made him climb to the roof with her. As a rule, Aaron did not believe in ghosts. But the things people said—that by day one could hear Graggly's wailing, and that by night the old soldier still performed his duty of lighting the passages so that sometimes lamplight could be seen through the tower's orieled windows—had been enough to give Aaron pause. For a time, it had become something of an intriguing mystery as he sought to formulate answers to the superstitions surrounding the place. The wailing he'd explained easily enough. It was only the wind, blowing through the upper windows. The lights, however, had been something else, for once, and only once, while they both approached the tower, they had both seen a light bobbing from one window to the next. Where it went, new light sprang to life, as if someone were lighting lanterns along the way. Shanna'd rushed in, elated over the idea of catching a glimpse of old Graggly, or what was left of him. Aaron had followed reluctantly. When they reached the floor where they'd seen the light, all had returned to darkness. It was a rare puzzle to which Aaron had still not found a solution. It was the unsolved mystery of the place that kept him coming back. The fact that he got to spend time alone with Shanna didn't hurt either.

At the tower, they slipped through their usual spot, a section of the great rounded door that'd rotted and splintered inward. Inside, Shanna struck flint to light a torch they'd left behind from a previous visit. Then they mounted the stairs. It was a tiring effort, and talk was held to a minimum. Emerging onto the roof with labored breaths, they found the sky still shrouded by the storm's leavings. Shanna deposited the torch in a holder by the door, then she walked to the roof's edge to peer out between the battlement's crenels. With Aaron still recovering from the climb, she leapt between the merlons and, with arms stretched wide, let the wind do its worst.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Aaron said between breaths. "It's dangerous. You could fall." He moved to the next crenel where he kept a hesitant eye on Shanna.

He expected a laugh, or a harsh rebuttal, but she said nothing. It was obvious Master Rion's words still stung.

Below them, Aaron saw soldiers of the night's watch lighting torches along Regrok, the city's great outer wall. It was a nightly ritual he'd witnessed many times. Still, it was a mesmerizing affair, watching each torch spring to life in the gathering gloom. He watched until Shanna jumped down from her perch to accost him.

"Why don't you stand up for yourself?"

The wind caught her hair, blowing it haphazardly about her face. Using both hands, she gathered the lot of it and tied it into a temporary knot.

Aaron struggled with a reply. "W-What? What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Clubfoot. Why do you let him pick on you? He's a coward. Stand up to him just once and he'll never bother you again. He could have killed you if you hadn't stopped that catapult with your magic."

Magic. He was apprenticed to a master sorcerer and so of course everyone assumed he was also a practitioner. There was a difference, however, between a sorcerer's apprentice and one who was apprenticed to a sorcerer. Elsanar's work went well beyond just sorcery into the fields of theoretical mathematics, alchemy, and mechanics. Aaron had been enlisted to assist in studying these subjects. Early on, he'd tried explaining the distinction to folk who thought him some sort of pariah, for no one else could possibly qualify as the apprentice of a sorcerer as great as Master Elsanar. But Aaron's explanations had always been met with nothing more than nods and stares as they looked over the results of he and Master Elsanar's latest alchemical experiments, which they sometimes performed outside out of necessity. Aaron supposed the displays, which more often than not involved some sort of pyrotechnics, might be construed as magic to the layman, and so while he understood the distinction between mere apprentice and sorcerer's apprentice all too well, he stopped trying to explain it to others a long time ago. Even Shanna, who knew him better than anyone, still clung to the belief that he was on his way to someday becoming a powerful sorcerer in his own right. She had proved as stubborn as the others, so Aaron had let her believe what she wanted. Still, there was an explanation regarding what had happened with the catapult that was most definitely not a magical one.

"It wasn't magic," he replied. "The rope was wet."

Shanna's quizzical stare prompted an explanation.

"Catapults use torsion to fire their missiles. Tightening the rope creates tension, but the rope was wet. Wet rope doesn't hold tension. It couldn't have fired, so I was never really in any danger."

"If you say so," Shanna said, shrugging off his explanation. "You didn't answer my question about Clubfoot."

Aaron turned his gaze to the darkening, gray sky. The wind ceased its howling enough that he just heard the waves of the Barrens crashing against the great cliffs. "You shouldn't call him that."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't deserve it."

"Sure he does. Even so, he has no right to torment you all the time." Shanna paused, letting the silence grow thick between them until finally she sighed. "Never mind."

Behind them, the door groaned as the wind moved it on its hinges. Aaron was certain he'd left it secured, but just when he thought to double-check it Shanna distracted him with a visible shiver brought about by the cold. She crossed her arms as she leaned in closer to Aaron. Shaking off the tingling which accompanied such nearness, Aaron unclasped the cloak she'd 'borrowed' for him and wrapped it about her shoulders. It covered a loose shirt gone thin from too many years of use and a tailored vest, newly given to her by Aaron just the year before, but too thin to protect her against the wind. Shanna accepted the cloak's warmth without comment, leaving Aaron to do his best to suppress his own shivering as the wind chilled his still damp skin. But then Shanna crossed her arm with his and leaned her head upon his shoulder. Suddenly enduring a little cold didn't seem so bad.

"Aaron?" Shanna stirred at his side. "Promise me we'll always be friends."

"What? Of course we will." Then, actually thinking about what she'd said, he asked, "Why wouldn't we?"

"Because someday you'll be a great wizard, and I'll still just be… down amongst the riffraff."

"Shanna, I don't think—I mean, Master Rion didn't mean—"

"I know what he meant."

Aaron, struggled a moment with his thoughts. "If either of us is going to make something of themselves, it'll be—"

Behind them, the door groaned again. The wind, Aaron thought as he went to settle his cheek further towards Shanna. But then she spun away from him.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

Aaron turned to see a man he didn't recognize standing in the doorway. He was short, with a lean, muscular frame and long blonde hair pulled tight at the nape of his neck. He was dressed in simple leather pants, a tight fitting gray shirt, and soft shoes that were whisper quiet as he advanced.

Though Shanna asked her question with the same tone she'd so often used with Corrin and his gang, it seemed wholly ineffective now as the man's only response was to reach one hand under a sleeve. With a quick pull, he drew a small knife. The blade and the manner in which he held it spoke of slit throats and murder.

Shanna's hand found Aaron's as the two stepped back. One small step was all they were allowed as they came up against the battlements. In front of them, the man quickly closed half the distance separating them.

Shanna let go of Aaron's hand and, stepping forward, drew her own knife. It was a small weapon, its blade in need of sharpening, but Shanna held it before her as if it were a knight's sword. She'd scared off Corrin's cronies often enough just by drawing it and had even used it once, cutting Worhel, though Aaron had later learned the incident had only been an accident. Now, however, she stood between Aaron and their attacker, brandishing the weapon before her with every intention of using it.

"Shanna, get out—"

Their assailant leaped forward. Shanna thrust with her knife, but the cutthroat defended himself with practiced ease, then brought the backside of his free hand across her face. She spun to the ground. The man stepped over her, paying her no further heed.

"Shanna!"

Aaron moved to go to her, but the assassin blocked his path. He had no choice but to back away, coming up fast against the battlements once more. He was cornered.

In the last moment, salvation arrived.

"Aaron!"

Midnight satin robes rose up behind the assassin.

Master Rion!

Aaron, knowing what was coming, dropped to the floor. A second later, the air was charged with magic. An immediate smell—something akin to charred meat—hung in the air before the wind thankfully carried it away. Aaron lifted his face from his arm, witnessing the agony written on the man's face before he turned to face Master Rion.

"Who sent you?" Master Rion stood with his staff in one hand and the index finger of his other pointed directly at the cutthroat.

The assassin's answer was a flung knife. But it was a clumsy throw, hampered by the damage inflicted upon him, and Master Rion easily knocked it aside with a flick of his staff before he answered with another attack of his own. Tapping again into the energy of his ka, his spirit, the sorcerer charged the air between himself and the cutthroat with an electrical-like force that slammed into the man, knocking him into the stone of the battlements so that Aaron had to scurry away lest he become entangled with him. No amount of wind could disguise the smell now.

"Who sent you?" Master Rion demanded again.

In response, the man, who was a smoking ruin now, lurched toward Aaron. Another concealed knife appeared in a hand that shook so badly it looked as if he might let go of the weapon at any moment. Master Rion blasted him a third time. The force of the energy surge pushed the assassin between two of the merlons and, from there, right over the roof's edge. The man’s death plunge was a silent one, for Aaron heard neither scream nor curse.

Aaron and Master Rion converged on Shanna. The sorcerer at first seemed concerned only with Aaron's well-being. Once he was convinced that he was unharmed, Master Rion gently pushed Aaron away so he could make his own inspection of his fallen friend.

"She's only unconscious," he said, "though she'll have a nasty headache when she wakes. We should get her to a caregiver immediately."

Master Rion handed his staff to Aaron so that he could lift Shanna with both arms. With mechanical movement, Aaron followed them down the tower's spiraling stairs. It took that long for the shock of what had happened to dissipate. They were spared sight of the body. Master Rion said they would send someone back to collect it. As they traversed the deserted streets of the Quartering, a million questions flooded Aaron's mind all at once. He neither asked nor tried to resolve any of them right now. Get Shanna to safety first. Then start looking for answers. That was his special skill, his 'gift,' since everyone seemed to think he must have one. Give him a problem and he'd come up with a solution, or at least a good theory. Aaron knew there'd be little sleep this night. As improbable and nonsensical as it seemed, someone had tried to kill him. He was going to find out why.

2. Waves

AARON'S PLAN TO START SEARCHING for answers was derailed almost immediately. After he and Master Rion had left Shanna in the capable hands of a caregiver, the sorcerer insisted that Aaron pay Master Elsanar a visit. Unable to do anything but comply, Aaron had left the hospital and gone to Ellingrel with Master Rion as escort. Now, as Aaron stepped into his master's study, leaving Master Rion in the outside hall, he was greeted by the familiar scent of apple and cherry wood pipe smoke. Noticing the light fading from the room's sole candelabra, Aaron went to refresh its candles straightaway. The new candlelight did little to chase away the worst of the darkness, but combined with the layer of pipe smoke hanging heavy in the air it created a pale glow that Aaron found comforting as he moved to stand between the two high-backed chairs that faced his master's desk. The sorcerer, who leaned back in his usual faded, leather-bound chair, was just visible between multiple stacks of papers, scrolls, and books. One corner of his mouth sucked at his chestnut pipe while the other exuded gentle puffs of white smoke in timed rhythm. Robes similar to those worn by Master Rion were draped around his slight form, though his were more worn, the dark satin gone light, the ends frayed from years of wear. As Aaron bowed his head to indicate he was at his master's service, he spied the elder's favorite doeskin slippers just poking out from beneath the desk. Without removing his pipe from his mouth, Master Elsanar spoke.

"I understand there has been an incident." His voice was soft and gravelly with age.

"Yes, master," Aaron said.

Elsanar leaned forward just enough to look Aaron up and down. He lifted his head to see better through his spectacles, which hung at the tip of his long nose. "You are unhurt?"

"I am well, master."

"And your friend? This Sarna. She is well, also?"

"It's Shanna, sir." Master Elsanar's inability to recollect names was the stuff of notoriety. "Yes, she's recovering. Master Rion and I brought her to Jadjin. She says she will be fine. There was a man, sir. He was trying to kill us. Shanna tried to stop him, but—"

"I know, Aaron." Elsanar's voice remained calm, reassuring. He leaned back once more, one hand stroking the length of a beard dominated by gray. "Why don't you sit? There are things we need to discuss."

Aaron started to round one of the chairs, then froze. A sheathed sword was leaning against the chair and a satchel rested on the seat. Aaron knew neither belonged to his master. The bag was of plain leather, bereft of design, with a fur-lined shoulder strap and nothing to distinguish it from any other bag. But because the sword was there, eslar glyphs so plainly etched on its bone hilt, Aaron knew exactly to whom the items belonged. He also knew that sword, satchel, and owner were never far from each other. Probing the darkest of the shadows, he saw nothing at first. Though his gaze swept over the remainder of the room, it quickly returned to that single corner furthest from the light. Even then, he did not see him until he chose to reveal himself. First, stark white eyes appeared from the gloom. Then a sleek, blue-black skinned face crowned by a shock of rust-red hair emerged. The rest followed until a man stood revealed. No, not a man. An eslar. Master Ensel Rhe Alon. Tall and lean, he was dressed for nocturnal events: black brigandine armor and dark leather elsewhere. A long coat stained dark with dampness from the road reached nearly to the floor. Without a word, the eslar came forward, the starkness of his eyes never leaving Aaron's. He lifted the satchel from the chair with one hand. He extended his other toward Aaron.

"My sword," he said, his words a near whisper.

Aaron looked with apprehension upon the eslar's weapon. It reminded him too much of the assassin's knife, only larger and, he guessed, much deadlier. He swallowed, then forced himself to take hold of it. With a hand he fought to keep from trembling, he held the weapon out to Master Rhe. The eslar received it with a slight nod, then he pulled his coat back to secure the blade at his belt. Aaron spied an assortment of other weapons there: a pair of throwing knives, a dagger whose dark sheath matched that of the sword, and a short blade identical to those worn by the soldiery of Norwynne. Ensel Rhe let his coat fall into place and straightened the strap of the satchel across his chest and shoulder.

The eslar possessed an evil reputation. The satchel bore most of the responsibility, for people said Master Rhe was a collector, and that the satchel held his bounty. Now, it looked empty. But other times it bulged, or so folk said, full of the things the eslar collected. Those things were scalps. The scalps of men, women, children. People whispered Master Rhe's name any time someone showed up dead in or outside the city walls. No matter if the corpse was missing its scalp or not (none ever did as far as Aaron knew). Master Rhe was always to blame. Of course if there was truth to any of it Aaron figured he would have been arrested long ago. Also, the fact that Master Elsanar consorted with him absolved Master Rhe of blame as far as Aaron was concerned. Still, the eslar did nothing to dispel the stories swirling around him. Perhaps he liked it that way. Aaron could not be sure, for he'd never talked to him. If Master Rhe really was collecting scalps and carrying them around in his satchel, then Aaron at least hoped his victims were deserving of such a fate.

Ensel Rhe nodded in Elsanar's direction. "I take my leave."

The master wizard raised his pipe in answer and, as Elsanar stood, Master Rhe swept past Aaron without a glance and quietly exited the study. Aaron let out an audible breath at his departure.

"Never mind, Ensel," Elsanar said, coming around the desk and gesturing for Aaron to sit. Elsanar slid the other chair around so it faced Aaron's. The master had just settled in his chair when a wailing noise from behind a small, closed door filled the room.

"Ah, tea!" Elsanar said. "I forgot I put the water on."

He made to rise, but Aaron was quicker. "I will tend to it, sir."

Aaron darted off to the adjoining chamber which served as the sorcerer's laboratory. The room contained a small stove which more often than not boiled the sorcerer's concoctions, but also did well to heat water. The stove's small fire provided enough light for Aaron to navigate the room and prepare the tea before returning with the pot full and the drink brewing. Elsanar seemed content to wait until the tea was ready, so they sat in silence while steam rose from the teapot's spout. Aaron slumped in the high-backed chair that was too big for him, looking about the shadowed room while they waited. No wall in Elsanar's study was left exposed: bookcases were crammed with hide-covered tomes, scrolled maps, and stacked sheets of parchment that lined row after row of shelving. There were no paintings or tapestries, just the shelves packed with a weight of knowledge Aaron had done his best to plow through. Yet even after four years of apprenticeship, he'd barely scratched the surface.

Aaron tested the tea. Finding it brewed sufficiently, he poured the steaming drink into two polished wood cups he had brought with him from the laboratory. Elsanar took a sip, then leaned back in his chair.

"Now," Elsanar said, shifting, "let us speak of this man who tried to harm you. You have questions, I know. Questions about this assassin. Yes, I call him such because that is what he was. The truth of it is that he was not the—"

A bell sounded from the laboratory. Nothing unusual, for many of the master's monitoring devices were tied to chimes, bells, or whistles. This bell was really no different from any other except that it rang and rang, and kept ringing until, after exchanging a glance with Aaron, Elsanar stood and, without a word, hurried into his laboratory. Aaron knew the patterns of all the sounds his master's devices made and how many times each rang to indicate that some threshold had been reached or crossed. While the chime of this one was familiar enough, its frequency was not. Aaron followed, so fast he almost ran into his master. He stayed close as Elsanar approached a work table set into the room's furthest corner. He narrowed his gaze at the indicator on one particular machine. The metallic needle of the gauge showed an energy measurement of five peta-joules and rising. It hit six and then seven peta-joules. All the while the bell continued to ring.

The noise was loud enough to draw attention. Master Rion, who still waited outside in the hall, came running into the laboratory. He said nothing at first, but seemed just as interested as Elsanar in the rise of the needle. Aaron looked from one master to the other, not knowing what to make of their interest in the gauge or their silence. He did know, however, that the needle should not be rising so high, nor so fast. Of course, he wasn't entirely sure what it was measuring. While Master Elsanar had designed all of the encorders in the room, Aaron modified and calibrated them. But not this one. Aaron looked at it more closely. There were extra chambers inlined with the compression tubes and additional measurement crystals, pulsating now as they absorbed the ambient energy waves to which they'd been tuned. Aaron considered asking his master the purpose of the modifications, but Elsanar was so intent on making his observations that Aaron dared not interrupt him. Master Rion was unapproachable as well. His full attention was on the machine's reading.

Finally, Elsanar stepped away. "It is confirmed then."

Master Rion still inspected the gauge, which by now had risen above ten peta-joules, a remarkable reading by any measure.

"Are you sure?" Master Rion asked.

Master Elsanar found a stool to sit on. "Yes."

He suddenly looked old and tired to Aaron's eyes.

Rion straightened. "Then we haven't much time."

Aaron looked from one master to the other, waiting for an explanation. When he realized none was forthcoming, he set out to examine the machine himself. Half a dozen encorders just like this one were scattered around the laboratory. The energy such devices measured might be magical, alchemical, potential, relative, reactionary, elemental, emotional, or one of a thousand other types. Much of it lie in how the crystals were tuned. Small and cut precisely, there were half a dozen in this machine. Principles, laws, and equations all revolved around the operation of those crystals, but, at its simplest, they absorbed ambient energy and passed on measureable information via emitted pulses to any number of compression tubes, tension gauges, valves, vats, or gears. The end result was a quantified measurement. This machine was showing a level Aaron was quite certain he'd never seen before. By the looks on their faces, neither had the masters.

Aaron needed his lab vest. As he walked quickly to take it from the hook beside the door, he removed the satchel he'd had over one shoulder nearly all day and hung it in place of the vest. Though they had a rule about only storing alchemicals in their proper, safe place, it was a lax one as long as the alchemicals in question were not explosive, and so the vest was already lined with an assortment of vials containing his and Master Elsanar's most often-used substances. One of those was aqua vermillion, a conducting agent which Aaron sprinkled onto a nearby measuring wand. He picked up a handheld calibrating meter and, with wand and meter in hand, returned to the machine. He waved the wand over the encorder's crystals while his eyes remained fixed on the meter. There were two needles on the device, both with different scales. The larger one went right to 56. The smaller, 3579645. Taken together, 56.3579645.

An elemental frequency.

Elsanar stood. The look of frailty was gone, replaced by one of purpose. "Aaron, my staff."

Aaron put the instruments down. "But, master, I—"

"Aaron!"

Aaron quietly did as he was asked, fetching the wizard's staff from its usual laboratory corner.

"Rion," Master Elsanar said, "see that Aaron is taken somewhere safe. Stay with him. They might try to take advantage."

Rion nodded in reply. "Come with me, Aaron. Time is short."

"But…" Aaron handed the staff to his master, all the while trying to stammer a sentence out. Finally, he blurted, "What is going on?"

That got Master Elsanar's attention. The sorcerer paused, then beckoned Aaron closer. He placed a comforting hand on his apprentice's shoulder.

"There is no time for explanations, Aaron. Rest assured that come morning—or sooner should this business conclude as I think it shall—you and I will sit down once more and I will tell you everything. I promise. For now, though, you must trust that myself and Master Rion have your best interests in mind."

Aaron knew of only one way to respond. "Yes, master."

Rion put an arm at his back and guided him from the laboratory with such haste Aaron barely had time to snatch his satchel off its hook. Elsanar followed them into the study. Before Master Rion had ushered Aaron out into the hall, he took a moment to look at his master one more time. The old wizard had his back to him as he fumbled with something on his desk. Master Elsanar was a quiet, reserved man, rarely prone to rashness. Yet now, his quick movements and haste almost spoke of… panic. The thought turned Aaron's stomach and made his skin go cold. As he turned away from the old sorcerer, he wondered if the two would ever have their promised conversation.

* * *

Shanna opened her eyes to find herself lying in bed. Not her bed, if the softness of the mattress and pillow was any indication. So whose, then? Shanna turned her head and immediately regretted it as a flash of pain ignited the spot where she'd been struck. While she waited for the pain to subside, memories returned: saving Aaron from Clubfoot, their run-in with Master Rion, the trip afterwards to Graggly's Tower, and last, the man with his knife, coming at them with murder in his eyes. Shanna shuddered, immediately wishing she hadn't as the side of her face lit up again. Thankfully, the pain did not last as long this time. Through careful experimentation she found that by turning her neck ever so slowly she could take in her surroundings with minimal pain. She was in a dark room lit by a smattering of low burning candles. More beds were to either side, only two of which were occupied. By appearances, her roommates slept or were deceased, for Shanna thought she smelled leenum, a fragrance used to mask the scent of the dead.

A woman emerged from the room's only doorway. Shanna watched her walk to the first occupied bed. A quick inspection, repeated at the next, then she was quietly pulling up a chair next to Shanna. The woman—Shanna recognized her as Jadjin the healer—smiled. Jadjin was a slender, dusky-skinned woman, some said a gypsy, come up from the reaches beyond the Four Fiefdom's borders. She'd entered into service here at Norwynne long before Shanna'd been born, her knowledge and skills as a healer guaranteeing her a place for as long as she wished.

"Now," Jadjin said, "let's take a look."

She held a hand to Shanna's forehead for a moment. Satisfied, she leaned in closer to inspect Shanna's cheek. Shanna, unused to the attention, tried to withdraw further into the bed. Jadjin only smiled at her display of discomfort.

"You have a nasty bruise," Jadjin said, her voice smooth and comforting. "But nothing that won't heal with time."

Shanna tried to speak, but her words emerged as an indecipherable croak. Without comment, Jadjin rose. She returned a moment later with a cup of water and arranged the pillow behind Shanna’s head so that she could drink. Shanna eagerly took the water, surrendering the cup only when it was empty.

"Who brought me here?" Shanna asked, her voice a whisper.

"Master Rion and one of the Tower apprentices."

Shanna licked her lips. "I need kuma seed. My cheek, it hurts." She'd never had the drug before and wouldn’t have known of it had Aaron not been given some after he fell and bruised his leg last year.

"Kuma seed?" Jadjin smiled. "You and I both. If I gave you kuma seed, there wouldn't be enough for the lord or his daughter. It doesn't grow here. Doesn't abide the salty air." Jadjin shook her head. "For you, I have willow bark."

Willow bark.

Already Shanna felt the bile rising in her throat. The stuff had a repugnant taste and did not sit well with her at all. The last time she'd used it, she'd spent more time recovering from the resulting stomach ache than from the original ailment.

Jadjin started to turn away, but not before Shanna asked, "Where's Aaron?"

"Aaron? Oh, the apprentice!" A broad grin lit up her face. "That boy sure was concerned about you, dear. Fawned over you the whole time till I finally had to have Master Rion take him away. Be careful! That one's got his eye on you. Such a pretty girl, it's no wonder." Shanna sank further into the bed, her eyes straying from Jadjin's as her cheeks turned rosy. The healer raised a hand to her lips to suppress a laugh, lest she wake her sleeping patrons. "He said he would come see you in the morning. Now, rest while I fetch the willow bark."

Shanna watched the woman retreat the way she'd come. Then, tossing the covers off, she eased her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning, but she gained her feet without too much wobbling. Save the willow bark for someone else. She wasn't taking it. Nor was she staying here any longer. She could recover just fine in her own bed. Shanna found her shoes and the cloak she'd borrowed—left behind by Aaron—at the foot of the bed. Jadjin must have gone off to some other part of the hospital to grind her witch's brew, for the room beyond was empty. Shanna exited the building unobserved.

Almost immediately Shanna wished she'd taken the offered medication, for every step brought a new jolt of pain from her cheek. That, and the aching in her head showed no signs of going away. Pain or not, though, she had no intention of changing her mind. It was a matter of principle now and a particular point of soreness, too, that some always got the best of everything while others had to make do or get nothing at all. She crossed her arms, the direction of her thoughts causing every footfall to hit the hospital's walkway like the strike of a hammer. They'd taken her inside the walls of the lord's keep, likely only because of either Aaron's presence or his insistence. That nasty master who'd run into them probably would have dumped her at the nearest hack's shop. She kept her head down, stomping her way round the vine-covered walls of the lord's estate, which was the centerpiece of the large, rectangular yard. The stomping did her no good: each impact sent a shock of pain up her body and into the welt on her cheek. Also, it attracted the attention of a passing guard. The man stopped for a moment to observe her, but he said nothing and soon returned to his silent patrol. Shanna kept walking.

Next thing she knew she'd cleared the whole of the bailey, completely passing her intended exit-way. If she went any further she would be square in front of the door to Ellingrel, Norwynne's Tower of Sorcery. Shanna leaned back to take in the fullness of its height, trying to locate the window that was Aaron's. But even with scattered openings lit like beacons across its gray stone it was difficult in the night's darkness. She knew he was in there, somewhere. Briefly, she considered knocking on the door and asking to see him. The answering apprentice would probably just turn her away, though. Opposite the Tower, she saw more lights, this time coming from the high windows of the lord's keep. Thoughts turning dark again, she imagined Lord Vuller and his pain-in-everyone's-arse daughter swallowing their kuma seed. She hoped they choked on it.

Beneath her borrowed cloak, Shanna ran her hands up and down her arms for warmth. The fabric of her shirt was coarse and worn thin, with a patch at one elbow and the beginnings of a hole at the other. Matching patches were at the knees of her pants. The vest was the only thing close to new, given to her by Aaron just last year. Of the clothes she owned, she much preferred the current ensemble to anything else. But the garments had seen many years and many washings, and she knew she'd have to buy new ones soon. That meant she'd have to start saving from the pittance that was her pay. Either that, or she'd have to ask Nora for an advance. It was within her right; Shanna worked for the woman now as her apprentice, though 'laborer' was more like it. Who would have thought soap making such an arduous chore? She'd barely started learning about the fragrances and what worked best with what and already she hated it. Almost as much as she hated asking anything of her new mistress. Especially this, for Nora abhorred Shanna wearing "boy's clothing", and probably would turn her down. She'd done as much plenty of other times. Once, Shanna had wanted an extra candle to read by. Aaron always loaned her such wonderful books, with pictures and tales of such strange, faraway places, that she'd wanted to remain awake all night reading them. Hard to do that with only a single, stunted candle to her name and no money to buy a new one. Nora had dismissed Shanna with a laugh and a sharp admonition: better she spend her time sleeping to meet the next day's labors rather than wasting her time reading. There'd been other times too, enough that Shanna decided she'd not ask Nora for an advance or anything else ever again. She'd save the money on her own, even if it took months of squirreling away drams. At least then she could buy what she wanted with no one able to say otherwise.

Shanna knew she'd likely not see Aaron again until mid-day, after she'd finished her chores and he his lessons. That meant she'd have to wait that long before learning why anyone would want Aaron dead. She knew she hadn't been the assassin's target. The man had brushed by her almost as if she wasn't there. Her feeble attempt to stop him had nearly been a disaster. The man's knife, so close to her. Shanna shuddered at the thought of it. It had made her own blade look like a butter knife.

Knowing Nora would not see her bruised cheek as an excuse from her duties, Shanna started heading home. She crossed the quietness of the yard until she came to a lesser used postern gate where she had to ask the single guard stationed there to raise it. He did so only after some grumbling. Out on Lantern Street, the nighttime activity of the avenue's finer pubs and eating establishments was just getting started. While Shanna didn't run in such circles (and probably never would, she told herself), there was always someone lurking about in which to engage in idle chatter or a game of chance before a night watchman ran them off. On any other night Shanna would not have hesitated. But this night, she just wanted to go home.

It was a long ten blocks. With the night growing colder with each step, she was relieved when she passed beneath the familiar open arch leading into her plaza. Furthing's, it was called, and while it wasn't large, it did have its own well and benches for sitting. Shuttered windows rose up all around: multi-storied apartments where all manner of people lived. But not Shanna. Her home was below, in Furthing’s Deep. The deep—it was only one of many—was part of Norwynne's underkeep, where dwarves had once dwelt. It had been a long time since any dwarf had called the Underkeep home though, and those who remained—men, mostly—saw no reason not to make use of the space. 'Underkeepers', they were called. The name had never really bothered Shanna. She'd been one as long as she'd been in Norwynne, so it was something she'd grown used to as she had bounced from one Underkeep orphanage to another. The past year, she'd found some stability, and now shared a hearth-home with eight other girls.

Furthing was one of only a few plazas that had a working dwarven elevator. But at the moment it wasn't running, so she went instead to the stairs that led down, down, down into the dark. She lit a torch to guide her and was just about to take the first step when she was beset by a wave of dizziness. The spell nearly clocked her. For a moment she thought she might fall down the stairs. But she caught herself against the wall, staying like that until it finally passed. When it did, the dizziness was gone completely, as if it had never happened. Shanna took a long breath and blinked her eyes. The blow the man had given her must have hurt more than she thought. Resigned to crawl into bed the moment she got home, she held her torch before her and descended into the Underkeep with careful steps.

* * *

Somewhere safe for Aaron, it turned out, was at the very top of Ellingrel.

Already worn down from a long day, Aaron had not found the idea of climbing to the Tower's roof appealing at all. His best protests, however, fell on deaf ears as Master Rion ushered him to the top without remorse, allowing neither time for rest nor opportunity for Aaron to ask any of the questions swirling through his head. By the time they'd reached the halfway point, he was too tired to speak anyway.

As soon as they gained the roof Master Rion went straight to the edge where battlements similar to those of Graggly's Tower encircled the top. He settled in quickly, the fullness of his attention on the ocean-side of the city or on something beyond. Moving more slowly, Aaron took a moment to regain his breath and gather his strength before he fought the whipping wind to join the sorcerer. Ellingrel stood roughly at the center of Norwynne, but closer to the landward side. Still, its great height afforded the observer an uninhibited view over the lord's keep, the surrounding city, and, beyond the assortment of buildings poking up in irregular patterns, the great outer wall, Regrok, which legend said had never been breached. By day, the view was spectacular. Now, it was an ebony screen punched through by the faint light of street lanterns and a chaotic pattern of lit windows. Beyond Regrok was the Barrens. The great, empty ocean, Norwynne folk called it. Now, true to its name, it was inky blackness, for a blanket of clouds obscured even the light of the moon.

Aaron saw activity on Regrok's wall walk: Master Elsanar, small compared to the wall's massiveness, standing amidst members of his coterie. Keep soldiers were there too, in greater numbers than usual if the number of torches reflecting from armor was any indication. At one end of the walk, a cluster of them parted as a single figure emerged from a corner guard tower. Aaron saw hands jump to brows in salute as the man—who could be none other than the Lord of Norwynne, Lord Vuller—passed. He stopped only when he stood face-to-face with Master Elsanar.

"What do you suppose they're saying?" Aaron asked above the howl of the wind.

His eyes never leaving the dark of the horizon, Master Rion's answer came quick and short. "I don't know."

Aaron thought Master Rion did know, if not the conversation's exact words then at least the general content, but Aaron did not press the point. Instead, he asked, "What are we doing up here?"

"Master Elsanar felt this place would offer you the most protection. The Tower is a sorcerer's tower. It is protected. You know that." Again, the master sorcerer's eyes never left the horizon, though Aaron was quite sure there was nothing there to see.

"Why do I need protecting? I mean, what about everyone else?"

Over ten thousand people called Norwynne home, not to mention another five hundred or so who worked the surrounding farmlands. The Market Day Festival was nigh, also. That added at least another two thousand. What about them?

Master Rion's gaze left the distant horizon long enough to fix Aaron with a hard stare. "If there were time to tell you all, I would. Come morning, Elsanar will explain everything." He looked away and said nothing more.

Resigned to gathering whatever information he could on his own, Aaron returned his gaze to Regrok. More torches had been lit and now Lord Vuller, who still consulted with Master Elsanar, finally broke away, returning the way he had come. One-by-one, soldiers followed him. Not just one or two or even ten, but every one of them until the full length of the wall walk was abandoned but for Master Elsanar and his fellow sorcerers. Aaron counted fifteen, save Master Rion. The sorcerers spread out in a line, each taking a position twenty paces from the other. Every one of them faced the ocean.

Aaron heard shouts coming from the streets below as word spread about the nocturnal activity occurring along the wall-walk. Light from torches and lanterns appeared in windows while avenues and courtyards soon filled with folk milling about looking for answers. Soldiers, perhaps the same ones who'd abandoned Regrok to the wizards, took up positions along byways and at lit street corners. Whether their task was to quell or placate, Aaron could not be sure. Either way, Aaron envied them. At least they'd been given something to do.

A ruckus started on the landward fringes of the city. Herd animals brought inside the city walls for the night bleated and baaed with intensity. Soon horses, cows, and now the howling of dogs joined the litany. Master Rion gave the ruckus a sharp glance before returning his attention to the wall.

Then there was a crack, a noise so loud Aaron winced from the sound of it. It was followed by a shuddering as the earth trembled beneath the city. It rolled across Norwynne as if a wave, then faded and was gone.

"Stand fast, Aaron!"

Master Rion braced himself with one hand on his staff and the other on the stone of Ellingrel. Without question, Aaron grabbed hold of the Tower’s battlements in like fashion, though without a staff the best he could do was place both hands on the stone.

Then, it started.

From deep down below, the earth rumbled, letting loose such movement that right away Aaron felt the Tower sway beneath his feet. Though it was only that at first, it quickly grew worse. The masses below, gone silent at the first hint of the earth's awakening, exploded now into a dissonance of fear and confusion. Another eruption drowned them out as the Tower quivered and then jolted so that his hands loosed themselves from the battlements. Vibrations ran up his legs and into his stomach and chest until he shook as much from fright as from the Tower's movement. He yelled a desperate cry at Master Rion, but the words were lost in the earth’s deafening roar as another convulsion rocked the Tower. Only Master Rion's outstretched hand kept him steady. Another jolt, this one accompanied by the crash of rock and timber coming from multiple sources below, tossed Aaron against the battlements where he tried again to take hold of the stone with both hands. He looked out over Norwynne, seeing some of the same city lights he'd viewed moments ago now swaying, as if someone were signaling with them. One such grouping ran vertical and represented a line of windowed apartments. Back and forth they swayed, until suddenly, one-by-one, from top to bottom, the lights winked out. Seconds later, Aaron heard the accompanying crash. He shook his head in slow motion, refusing to believe what he'd seen. But though it was dark, he couldn’t deny what had just happened. He blinked his eyes, unable to speak, almost unable to breath. Then it happened again. A tower half Ellingrel's height rocked in impossible fashion. Get out! Get out! Aaron yelled in his mind. Too late. Unable to withstand the sheering forces, the tower disintegrated into a cloud of rubble and dust that choked out the screams of those trapped within. The shock of it reverberated through Aaron, and he sank to the floor. He covered his ears, hoping to somehow mute out the continued sound of grinding rock and splintering timber. He heard and felt more structures crumble and fall. More people died. Though some had to have escaped to the streets, he knew there was no safety there. He'd seen the great chunks of falling debris.

Elsanar!

The master sorcerer would stop this. Aaron stood. He was relieved to find Regrok still intact. The members of the coterie were still there, too. But none of them were doing anything. They all still faced the ocean.

Then, just as sudden as it had started, it stopped. The tremors, the swaying, the grinding of stone on stone all lessened until, gradually, they were no more. Minutes passed. But for the wails of folk below and the wind whipping over Ellingrel's battlements, there was no sound. Aaron looked at Master Rion. "Is it…?"

"It isn't over," the sorcerer said.

Aaron followed the master sorcerer's gaze through the haze of dust risen above the city to Regrok. There, finally, Master Elsanar held his staff up to the dark, clouded sky. To either side of him, all along the wall walk, the other members of the coterie did the same. One by one, each of their staves flared with such brilliance that soon their very persons were obscured. The power of each joined with the next until a line of cerulean energy surged across the wall walk. Its greatest point of concentration was Master Elsanar, who now swung his staff in a great circle before him. The motion left in its wake a sheet of power that moved unilaterally in all directions. Up, down, across, it buttressed the might of Regrok in one direction while extending its height in the other.

"The waves," Master Rion said, "they've stopped."

Aaron listened. It was true. The normally persistent sound was noticeably absent. Even at lowest tide, that never happened. Aaron was just trying to work out an explanation when he saw the tidal wave.

Seen through the azure film of Elsanar's wizardry, it was frothing liquid set ablaze, a wave so massive that, even at its current distance, it dwarfed Regrok and the hundred foot cliff it sat upon. He reminded himself that Regrok had never been breached, that the keep had never fallen and that Elsanar, greatest of wizards, was here. Such reassurances fell by degrees as the wave loomed closer and closer until, finally, it crashed into the wizard wall. It hit like a battering ram, jolting the azure barrier and causing the flare of brilliance surrounding each of the wizards to intensify. Knowing the danger of such exertion, Aaron winced as if in pain himself when three of the lesser sorcerers convulsed, then shriveled to blackened husks. Immediately, as the brilliance of those three dissipated, the wizard wall's strength diminished. Still, the barrier was enough that only a dousing of seawater broke through. Aaron let out an audible sigh of relief as the water fell away in sheets across the wall's length.

It was over.

"Aaron, stay here."

Aaron’s gaze went slowly to Master Rion.

"You'll be safe here," he said. "Do you understand?"

Aaron felt the blood drain from his face. A shiver ran through him.

"Do you understand me, Aaron?"

Aaron managed to bob his chin.

"Stay here! Ellingrel is the only place of safety now."

Aaron watched as Master Rion leapt between merlons much as Shanna had done earlier.

"Where are you going?" Aaron managed to ask.

"Elsanar needs me."

Without another word, the master sorcerer stepped from Ellingrel's roof. He did not fall, but instead drifted through the lingering haze down to Regrok's wall walk. He'd barely taken the place of one of the fallen wizards when another tidal wave hove into view. Master Rion had only seconds to add his strength to that of the others, seconds that were not enough as the second wave slammed into Regrok and its wizardly reinforcement. This time, like glass, the wizard wall shattered, and Regrok, which had never been breached, shuddered, cracked, and broke. The wizards—Elsanar and Rion amongst them—disappeared beneath the wave's frothing mass.

Aaron suddenly couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The shortness of breath was infectious. His legs lost feeling. His knees gave way. He remained standing only because he leaned heavily against the Tower's battlements, watching as the water exploded through Norwynne's streets, absorbing people and debris and finishing off structures made unstable by the earthquake. Aaron watched until so much water filled the streets that there was no longer anything to see. Then he backed away, not stopping until he came up against the Tower itself.

Its presence kept him standing. In that moment, it became his strength. Aaron clung to it, not moving, not thinking. He was safe. If he just stayed here, as Master Rion had advised, nothing could harm him. For an hour, as the shock of it all drained from him, that was what he did. But the longer he stayed put, the more he considered his predicament. He was safe, but what about everyone else? If it was over—even if it wasn't—folk needed help. Aaron slid along the wall, his outstretched hand probing for the door. Shanna, too. She might have been lying in the hospital when it started. Or, possibly, in her hearth-home. Aaron imagined the seawater flowing into the Underkeep, flooding the halls, trapping her.

It was all the prompting he needed.

Master Rion’s words were forgotten. The moment Aaron's fingers found the doorway, he slipped through. He left the door swinging on its hinges, not looking back.

3. The Flood

BECAUSE ELLINGREL'S STAIRWELL WAS NARROW and bare at its topmost floors, Aaron readily saw the spidery cracks that spread across the walls. The stairs showed signs of damage too, but the thick wood felt solid enough beneath his feet that he made good progress down the first few floors. The stairs soon widened and, at each floor, let out onto a wide space dotted with arches and doors. Aaron was surprised he saw no one. This high up, chambers were occupied by a variety of scribes, scholars, pages, servants, and, in some cases, their families. Many had to have already retired for the evening before the first tremors had started. Yet Aaron found one floor after another empty. Aaron was just beginning to think the Tower had been deserted when, midway, he heard the distant sound of voices rising from further below. Another few floors and, as Aaron paused to catch his breath, he heard what sounded like a full-blown commotion. One more floor and he saw the first Tower inhabitants. Some were huddled against walls, shock and fright masked across their faces. Others were more animate, pacing, or speaking with disbelief about recent happenings with neighbors. Another floor and the frequency of people along the stairs and at each level grew until Aaron was forced to slow his pace and choose more carefully a course between or around them. Aaron saw in them a ménage of grief, fear, and, in some, anger, and while he recognized every one of them—he never forgot a face or a name—he said nothing though many looked at him with expressions that sought answers and guidance. Aaron had neither. He averted his eyes and did his best to not meet their stares.

There were more than just residents of the Tower here now. Men, women, and children huddled in groups or interspersed amongst Tower-folk were easily distinguishable by the motley array of clothing they'd hastily thrown on and the fact that all were dripping wet. Though he'd seen the water flowing into the city, he remained uncertain as to how much water had invaded the area. He stopped to listen to conversations, trying to learn anything he could. People were scared. He needn't listen to know that much. But they also refused to move higher, though certain individuals were attempting to prompt them to do so. Aaron wondered at their objection, but only until the image of that first structure crumbling returned to him. Then, he didn't blame them for not wanting to go higher. Aaron moved on, soon learning why they were being encouraged upward at all. More people were arriving at the Tower every minute. So many that the lower floors were fast becoming a scene of gridlock. Determined to find Shanna, Aaron took a deep breath and began fighting his way through. Forward progress deteriorated to a crawl, but he never lost ground as he used his slim body to full advantage by slipping between any gap that presented itself. Then, just above the ground floor, his progress came to an abrupt halt, for the entire ground floor was submerged in a black, oily soup of seawater and city muck. Not only that, but it was clear that the toxic mixture was rising.

Ellingrel's apprentices—the real apprentices, who studied and performed magic of their own—were there. Rufia, who was the best amongst them, had taken charge, directing both apprentice and others alike in lifting a steady stream of refugees from the water to relative safety. Lanterns served as a beacon, guiding folk in from the outside. Only some entered through the main doorway, for while the door no longer hung on its hinges—Aaron spotted it floating nearby—all but the top of the arch was underwater. People swam through windows instead. No one was tall enough to touch bottom, and most everyone used some sort of debris as temporary life rafts. Aaron was stunned to see so many. It took him a moment before he joined the others already pulling people from the turbid water. He wanted to reach Shanna more than anything, but he had a duty here as well. He would help for as long as he could, then he would leave the Tower to find her.

The first person Aaron helped was a man gone pale with cold. Then, a blank-stared, middle-aged woman who murmured the name of a lost husband or child. The next, who bled from a cut at her forehead, cried hysterically until someone behind Aaron led her away. A man with two small children came next. Aaron descended the stairs, going knee-deep into the water to help him with the younger of the two children. Someone else grabbed the other child, and both, along with their father, were ushered to safer, dryer floors. The flow of people entering Ellingrel was an endless tide. Aaron quickly lost track of time and the number of people he helped pull from the water. Only when someone stepped forward to take his place did Aaron, with hands and feet gone numb with cold, relinquish his post. It was not to retreat to the safety of Ellingrel's upper floors, though, nor to seek the warmth of his own room which as far as he knew might have been requisitioned for use by some of the refugees. Kicking off shoes and taking a quick moment to ensure all of his alchemicals were secure in his vest pockets, he lowered himself into the muddy, roiling water. A gasp escaped his lips as the iciness penetrated straight through his clothing. Clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering, he pushed himself from the stairs. Some threw glances his way and one of the apprentices—Jerl by the sound of the voice—questioned where he was going. Aaron answered only that he was going to find a friend. Thereafter, no one objected or moved to stop him. He swam to one of the windows, only having to wait a moment for a gap to form between those coming in. Outside, the darkness greeted him along with the rise and fall of the floodwaters. The further he moved from the Tower's light, the darker it became. As a result, Aaron saw little of the devastation. Still, some signs were impossible to miss. Dwellings and lesser towers had been reduced to piles of broken wood and stone that jutted from the waters like tiny, misshapen islands. Estate walls that Aaron knew exceeded the water's height were missing. Only those dwellings taller than a single storey—and not toppled by the earthquake—were still visible at all, for ground floors were underwater. Of those, none appeared unscathed. Windows were shattered, walls cracked, and for some, roofs and entire floors had collapsed inward.

Logically, Aaron decided to start with Shanna's last known location. The hospital was not far from Ellingrel, but navigating the way whilst swimming in near complete darkness was a challenge. Still, Aaron knew the precise distance, and so with a best guess on course and a quick conversion of distance traveled by foot to distance traveled by swim stroke, he was soon lifting himself through one of the hospital's second story windows. It took Aaron all of one second to realize the futility of quickly finding Shanna, for the place was embroiled in chaos. The ordinary occupancy of a handful of patients had been replaced by a score or more, with more spilling in with each passing moment. Some lay on beds, on the floor, against the walls. Others—healers, nurses, physicians, volunteers—moved with practiced care amongst them. With similar consideration, Aaron picked his way through the room. Not seeing Shanna, he made his way to an outside corridor that was no less crowded than the hospital room. Even here, it was not immediately obvious if Shanna was present. Aaron was dreading the thought of having to search through every room and hall when he spotted Jadjin.

"Your friend wasn’t here when it all started," the woman said in answer to Aaron’s inquiry. "Foolish girl left before she’d even taken her medicine."

Aaron left the hospital via a different window than the one he'd come through. Trying not to think about the frigid, filthy water, he gritted his teeth and lowered himself in. Swimming over a collapsed section of the bailey's wall and past several manors, Aaron navigated out onto Lantern Street. Social status held no meaning anymore as Aaron saw folk of all stripes being helped to safety through second story windows. Not wanting to deal with the press of people inside the establishments, but wanting to get out of the frigid water, Aaron swam around one such building to a metalwork staircase at the establishment's rearward side. There, he pulled himself out of the water, dripping, cold, and fatigued. It'd been a long night, with no end in sight. While Aaron wanted nothing more than to find a dry place to sleep, he steeled himself and went on, climbing the outside stairs, up and up, to the rooftop. There was a latticed barrier, with a locked door to keep the casual thief at bay, but the whole affair had fallen over. Aaron crawled across it with little difficulty. Beyond, Aaron found a scene of exquisite dining, or what might have been had high-backed chairs and candlelit tables not been displaced by a throng seeking safety from the flooded streets. Aaron sifted his way through to the roof's other side. More of the latticework had collapsed or been torn down, and so he gained the next rooftop easily. Similar scenes awaited him. Rooftop gardens, smoking alcoves, and normally quiet dining venues were crowded by all manner of folk. Some hailed him, asking if he needed assistance. Aaron waved them away and kept moving. It was not a straight path, for some roofs had collapsed, or were torn with holes. He made his way around these, until the rooftop crowds grew sparser and he found himself mostly alone. He stopped then, both to catch his breath and, now that he was further away from the center of Norwynne, to survey what damage the rest of the city had experienced. He wandered to the roof's edge, covering his nose and mouth with one hand as the pungent odor of brine and seaweed hit him. There was more rubble and a sheet of inky darkness where streets had once been. He saw some unrecognizable wreckage bobbing in the water. Then he recognized the shapes. Bodies. Bodies floating in the water. Though he saw no faces, the too pale skin and lifeless limbs caused him to look away.

He moved on, though his gaze fell too often on the water below where the presence of the dead only grew worse. Though he tried not to look at them, they nonetheless drew the corner of his gaze until the only way to avoid them was to run faster and faster. Clutching his stomach in revulsion, he lengthened each stride, running on and on, his pace a thing of madness as he leaped down to a lower rooftop and then to a series of catwalks spanning the flooded streets. Once, then twice, he stumbled and nearly fell. But he never stopped running. Great sobs wracked his chest and he didn’t realize he was crying until tears blurred his vision so badly he had to wipe them away to see.

He stopped.

Clearing his eyes, he found he was alone. He heaved in a great breath, the coolness of the air burning his lungs. He exhaled slowly. Then, looking about to get his bearings, he realized he’d arrived. Furthing’s Deep. Relief was short-lived as he took stock of the water's level. There was an arch that lent entrance to the Deep and its passage into the Underkeep, but only the very top of the arch's coign remained above water. Furthing’s Deep was completely submerged. He was too late. The sinking feeling Aaron felt stopped dead in its tracks as he looked closer. Furthing's Deep was most certainly not flooded. He brought his mind back into focus, running through the calculations. He considered rate, time, volume, and quickly came to a conclusion: there hadn’t been enough time for that much water to drain into such a large space. The Underkeep was vast. Modern maps showed only a fraction of its halls and chambers. The rest lay undiscovered and unused since the time of the dwarves’ departure from Norwynne. Aaron examined the water’s level more closely, finding it was steady. Someone had closed a door—a dwarven door—to keep the flooding at bay. Only a door crafted and fitted by dwarven hands sealed so well. Aaron let out a breath of relief, then, clinging to that bit of hope, set about finding an alternate way in. Fortunately, he knew of one, and not too far away.

He navigated a series of catwalks that extended from one second story quadrangle to another. At the end of one such walk, he found an oil lantern someone had left hanging from a ring hook, a low ember still burning at its center. A quick turn of its key and Aaron quickened his pace with the lantern lighting the way. The catwalks ended in a shadowed, elevated lane that, in turn, led to a great arch and a dark chamber beyond. Though he remained above the worst of the flooding, the water here was up to his mid-shin. There was a current too, moving in the same direction Aaron wished to go. He followed the current, making his way down the lane with care to the great arch where his lamp revealed a series of thick columns. Navigating his way amongst them, he quickly found himself at a small archway that consumed the floodwaters in a steady stream. Beyond was more darkness.

Aaron had all but taken his first step through when a shambling form emerged and, with reckless abandon, plowed right into him.

"G-Get off me, Squeak!"

"What are you doing? Where are you going?" Aaron asked as Corrin shoved him away. Aaron just barely managed to stay upright.

"G-Gettin' out of here, that's what I'm d-doing."

Corrin was soaked and shivering. Aaron’s lantern provided only a glimpse of a face drained of color, and then Corrin was walking past him.

"Wait!" Aaron said.

Corrin didn't stop.

"Have you seen Shanna?"

Corrin shouted a reply from over one shoulder. "No." Then he was gone, disappearing into the dark from which Aaron had just come.

Aaron turned to the pitch of the archway, allowed himself one deep breath and a slow exhale before stepping through. He followed the stream of water down a stair and through a hall whose width kept the water’s flow tenable. The hall ended in another arch—dwarves were fond of arches—where Aaron stumbled into a group of Underkeepers. Dressed in bedclothes, with scarce anything on their feet, they moved in a huddled mass with only one small torch to light their way. Aaron traded his much brighter lantern without question. While they made the exchange, Aaron inquired after Shanna. Though several claimed to know her, none had seen her. They took their turn inquiring about the keep. How bad was it? How many had died? How many still lived? Memories of what he’d seen caused the words to constrict in his throat. He answered them all with only a shake of his head. They murmured their thanks for the lantern and shuffled off, leaving him alone again.

Aaron saw other groups, though these were better organized with several lanterns between them and a clearer sense of where they were going. All were headed to the surface. Like the others, they inquired about the condition of the city above and the status of survivors. In answer, Aaron said only that the remainder of the way was clear before he slipped past them. One such time he heard whispers naming him as Elsanar’s apprentice, but no one questioned his purpose.

He encountered no one else after that. He guessed much time had passed while he’d sloshed through the wet and the dark. He wondered if he was the only one left in the Underkeep. Such thoughts were banished the moment a series of cries for help reached his ears. There was a short stair, leading down, covered by a cascade of water. Aaron leaped over the rush, plunging to his waist into a flooded hall. He half swam, half ran its length. The cries grew louder. The hall ended at a juncture—Bronzehome—where a handful of other passages led away. Aaron needed no directions to know which one to go down. The way ended prematurely at a stone slab—a dwarven drop-door—that had slid from the ceiling and now completely barred him from going any further. The cries, louder now, were just on the other side of the door.

"Shanna, are you there?" Aaron shouted through arrow slits drilled into the stone. "Shanna! It's Aaron!"

A voice responded. "Corrin! If that's you, you worthless—"

"No, Shanna! It's Aaron!"

Silence from the other side, then, "Aaron? Is that you?"

"Yes!"

Aaron took a moment to inspect the door. It was sealed tight. The water only reached about midway, but it was rising on his side. Bending so that his ear just touched the surface, he plunged his arm into the water, reaching as far as he could. He felt a gap, between the bottom of the door and the floor. It hadn’t sealed all the way. With water flowing beneath the door, it was only a matter of time before his side of the passage and the one at the other side of the door were completely submerged. Aaron straightened to speak through the slits.

"I'm going to open the door."

A voice from the other side, not Shanna's, said, "Corrin already tried. It's too heavy." Aaron heard others assenting. Shanna shared her room with eight other girls, plus there were many more with rooms nearby. All girls, unless a boy had snuck in, which was always a possibility considering their ward mother was a drunk who spent more time minding a bottle than her charges.

"Yeah, Corrin tried alright," Shanna said. "Then he turned tail and left us here! If I ever see that worthless worm again…"

Aaron ignored the remainder of Shanna's statement, focusing instead on the problem at hand. Dwarven drop-doors were used to stop invaders. A quick flick of a switch and down it came. Of course, the dwarves had to have a means by which to raise the door once the threat was gone, and so, with another flick of the switch, a drop-door was lifted back into position by a system of pulleys and winches hidden inside the wall. Damage from the quake must have triggered or broken the lift mechanism. Since the access panel was on the opposite side of the door, Aaron had no way of even attempting to repair it. Curious as to what was holding the door up at all, Aaron plunged his arm into the water and discovered a solid, metal object—a chest, he figured—jammed beneath. He let his hand slide along the door's bottom edge and, cautiously, to the frame rails at either side. Pulling his arm from the water, Aaron shouted into the arrow slits, "Stay here!" He realized too late how stupid that sounded. "I'll be right back."

"Aaron?" It was Shanna. "Where are you going? The water… it's rising."

She was right. He had to hurry. "Not far. I'm coming right back. Don't worry!"

"Aaron! Don't leave—"

He heard the fear in her words, wishing as he sloshed away that he'd more time to offer reassurances. One of the other girls—it sounded like Rachel, who had never really liked him—yelled, "I always knew you were worthless, Squeak!" Aaron ignored her. The moment he was able to pull himself from the water, he set off at a run, backtracking until a juncture led him down another passage, through an arch, and to the workshop of Marcus Gentry. It was locked, of course. Fortunately, Aaron had a key. Not a real key, but enough syrin acid stowed away in one of his vest vials to melt away the knob at its base. A quick dash of pedric neutralized the acid, allowing him to manipulate the exposed workings and undo the lock. Aaron dashed inside, finding the items he needed in no time at all.

When he got back to Shanna and the others, the first thing he heard was arguing over his departure and the belief that he wasn't going to come back. It sounded as if Shanna was the only one defending him. A yell from Aaron silenced them all.

"Someone get a chair," he said. "A strong one."

"What good is a chair going to do?" one of the girls asked.

"We're going to lift the door."

"With a chair? You're an idiot, Squeak!" Rachel again. "You're wasting our time. Why don't you go find someone who can lift—"

Sounds of a scuffle. Then Aaron heard a sharp cry of pain.

"Call him that again," Aaron heard Shanna say, "and we'll leave you behind!" That was that. Shanna prompted Aaron to go on.

"Take these!"

Aaron tossed his nearly spent torch into the water and, using both hands, handed off two short but thick iron wagon axles through the opening beneath the drop-door. "You're going to lift the door using the axles as levers. Slide one end underneath, then as many of you that can fit along the remaining length need to lift. Do it together. Don't waste your strength." Aaron waited for the barrage of protests and condemnations, but there was nothing but silence. He took it as an acceptance of his plan and went on. Or almost did. One look at the briny, soupy mix, tainted with dirt and dust and the death he'd seen above was enough that he had to take a moment to shake off a sensation of disgust and fear. "I'm going under the water. Once you lift the door I'll prop it up using the peg holes in the rails. Lift it as high as you can and hold it there until I return to the surface and tell you to let go. But be careful! Ease it down gently, or it might not hold at all."

"We understand, Aaron!" Shanna said. "Tell us when to start lifting!"

Aaron took a series of breaths, readying himself. "Now!" He took one last breath, then plunged beneath the surface. He kept his eyes closed against the stinging filth, using his hands instead to judge their progress. Right away, he received confirmation that his plan was working as Shanna and the others raised the door above one and then another of the peg holes, which ordinarily were used to hold the door in place during repairs. Aaron pulled some of Marcus's iron wheel spokes from his satchel and felt for the exposed holes, shoving the spokes in one by one. It was a tight fit, but with enough twisting he was able to force the spokes home. When the door's progress slowed and rose no higher, Aaron inserted one last spoke before shooting to the surface. The water had risen even higher. Aaron asked them to lower the door the moment he'd drawn enough breath to speak. It went down inches and—Aaron breathed a sigh of relief—held.

Aaron didn't have to tell them what to do next. There was some hesitation, for they must have felt the same dread Aaron had before he'd submersed himself in the fetid water. But they did it, swimming through the enlarged gap to come bursting to the surface. They were all girls, something Aaron became more and more conscious of as each emerged. Every one of them thanked him. Rachel managed only a nod. They clustered together a short distance down the hall, cold, numb, and frightened.

Shanna emerged last. Aaron's heart leapt to see her, but before he could transform his elation into words Shanna locked both arms around him in a tight embrace. Then she pulled away just enough to kiss him full on the mouth. Whatever Aaron had wanted to say was lost amidst the sweet saltiness of those lips and a mind-numbing sensation that rose from every part of him at once. The kiss lasted only a moment, then Shanna pushed away to smooth wet hair from her face and to adjust her borrowed cloak that she still wore draped over her shoulders. "Thank the Old Gods you came! There was someone… then Corrin, but they couldn't… . They both left us! I thought for sure we were going to… . What are you staring at?"

Aaron felt the heat rise in his face. "I'm not—I mean, I wasn't—"

A rumbling from the earth put an end to Aaron's stammering. Ripples raced across the surface of the water as, beneath their feet, the floor vibrated. The tremor—an aftershock, Aaron realized—lasted only a moment, but it was enough to drive the girls into a panic. They fled down the hallway in one accord. Aaron and Shanna, in no less of a hurry, followed. The group made it as far as Bronzehome Juncture—not very far at all—when the earth awoke again. The girls plunged into the water filling the juncture, managing in their mass hysteria to listen to Aaron's direction as he bid them return the way he'd come. The last of them had just managed to fight through the rush of water flowing from the passage and leave the juncture when Aaron and Shanna heard the ceiling above them cracking apart. In desperation, they plunged forward, trying to reach the other passage.

Too late.

Great chunks of rock and a streaming avalanche of water fell from above, extinguishing wall lanterns and creating a chain reaction that shattered the floor beneath their feet. Aaron barely managed to grab hold of the edge of one passage's railing. Shanna somehow found his other hand. For one terrible moment, as the floor collapsed and Shanna's weight jolted his, Aaron thought both of them were going to fall. They didn't, though almost immediately Shanna's grip on his hand began to slip.

"Don't let go of me!"

Aaron had never heard such intense panic from Shanna before. It rose above the roar of falling water and debris, stirring a panic in him also. He tried to tighten his grip, but it seemed the more he squeezed the more Shanna slipped free. Aaron tried to cry out to her, but his mouth filled with water and he fell into a fit of choking instead. Unbalanced, he lost what footing he'd gained. Unable to see, hardly able to breathe, Aaron focused everything on holding fast to Shanna's hand. Sheer thought was not enough though. Their hands slipped further.

"Don't let go of me!" she said again.

The earth groaned, beckoning Shanna into its embrace as the water streaming past them tried to pull her away from him. Aaron wanted to shout out, yelling that the earth had taken enough and that it could not have her too. But he'd no strength left. Only their fingers touched now, and then not even that. His fingers slipped along hers. Then her hand was gone.

"Shanna!"

He knew she couldn’t hear him. She was gone, taken by the water's ferocity. He shouted anyways, sobbing her name until he was so drained of strength he could do nothing but hang in place while bits of rock and sheets of water continued to fall from above. Minutes—or hours—passed before Aaron lifted himself to safety. He made it only a short distance down the passage before he collapsed. He stayed there for a long time.

4. Raiders

AARON’S BODY WAS NUMB, HIS mind, listless. It took him some time to stand. Once he had, he shambled down the corridor from which he’d come with little purpose other than that he knew he couldn’t stay put any longer. He’d not made it far when he found the way blocked by newly fallen debris. There was no light, so he used his hands to feel the chunks of rock barring his way. With slowness born from indifference, he clambered over some of the debris, just to see if there was any hope of squeezing through. But it was blocked completely. Briefly, he wondered if Shanna's hearthmates had made it out or if they'd been caught in the collapse.

Using outstretched hands to guide him, Aaron returned to the juncture. Without light, he'd no way of knowing how much of the floor remained. Just as he was thinking of trying to probe his way through the dark, hoping he didn't fall through the wreckage of the floor as Shanna had, it occurred to him that he did have light in the form of two of the alchemicals in his laboratory vest. Locating each of them was no problem at all in the dark since he always kept each in their own slotted pocket. Mixing them in the right proportions proved tricky, though. He had to sacrifice his vial of crystal vitriol so he could start with an empty container, but he managed to add just the right amount of each and, after a series of shakes, was greeted by a soft blue emanation. It was faint light to work by, but it was enough that he spied a narrow ledge where the floor was still intact. Water still flowed into the juncture and down the hole, though it was a trickle compared to what it had been before. Aaron held himself close to the wall, making it halfway across the ledge before he was able to jump the remainder of the way.

Safe within the next passage, he didn't move right away. Instead, facing the chasm where the juncture's floor had been, he jammed one hand into his satchel to take hold of the wooden soldier. He raised his arm with every intention of sending it spinning into the gaping maw. But he couldn't do it. He was alive, which was a better fate and a far cry from all those others who had died. The figurine, if it was magical, had done its job. It had protected him. But at what price? To see everyone he cared about dead while he still lived? Not realizing his hand had drifted to his side, he raised the carving, this time ready to rid himself of it for sure. Still, he hesitated. If the soldier had truly kept him alive, he couldn't just throw it away. Then he remembered Shanna's face. That one instant of horror when she knew he could no longer hold onto her. Aaron tightened his fist around the soldier. In one quick motion, he hurled it into the darkness that had taken Shanna.

He dropped the now empty satchel, turned around, and started heading back to the surface. This new passage was clear, but beyond it other obstacles abounded. Fallen debris was strewn everywhere and the floodwaters flowing from above dragged on his heels and tugged at his legs. Aaron fought as if the floodwaters were a physical enemy, fighting for yards, sometimes inches, but always moving forward.

Such strength bore him to the surface where he found himself above what just hours ago had been a cobbled yard. Now, it lay beneath at least six feet of water. Aaron followed a ledge at its perimeter to a series of steps that ordinarily dropped down to a shop-lined lane but which now led into the floodwaters. Recognizing his location and that Ellingrel was not far, Aaron clenched his teeth to still their chattering and slipped into the water up to his neck. Though he knew he should return to the hospital—his hands and feet had gone numb some time ago and, try as he might, his entire body refused to stop shaking—his first duty was to help the other apprentices and the folk who'd sought refuge in the Tower. That was where he belonged now.

He swam half the length of the shop-lined street, wondering if he'd make better progress on the rooftops, when he spotted an alley he knew was a shortcut. He recognized the presence of second story windows only as he swam past them. Seeing one half-open, he stopped and considered climbing in to get out of the water, if only for a brief respite. But just as he was about to grab hold of the sill, he saw a flickering come from the opposite end of the alley. The light slid across Aaron's field of vision, too smooth to be held by a fellow swimmer. A boat, then. Aaron abandoned the window and the desire to rest. Instead he swam for the light. Blinking his eyes to clear away the sting of the water's saltiness, a long craft came into focus. Men sitting along the vessel's length dipped oars into the water, unaware of Aaron's presence as they propelled the craft forward.

Aaron licked lips blistered and dry with salt. His throat felt no better. When he spoke, his voice was a croak. He called out once, then again, louder. One of the men heard him. He reigned in his oar and looked about, finally pointing in Aaron's direction. The others lifted their oars as well, and the skiff slowed. Aaron heard them speaking, but their words were indiscernible, their accents strange and unfamiliar. That, and their appearance—too squat and short-limbed for men now that he looked closer—gave Aaron pause. As the boatmen ceased their chatter, the course of the strange boat changed and, with a unified effort, was propelled into the alley towards him. Aaron remained stationary only as long as it took for him to see brown leather and armor. And weapons. Knives, swords, axes, and worse, barrel chests, wild hair, and tangled beards. Aaron started treading backwards, but not before seeing a gleam of hunger in the lead oarsman's eyes as if he'd just found his next meal.

Aaron spun around and fled. Exhaustion was forgotten as brutish cries echoed from the walls. Panicked, Aaron's strokes made more splash than forward progress as he gauged the distance to the alley's other side. At least on the open street he might have some chance of hiding. Here, in this narrow alley, there was nothing. Except the windows. Aaron returned to the one he knew was open, grabbing hold of the ledge while trying to shove it open enough to slide through. Numb fingers struggled, and he slipped into the water once more. He choked out the fetid brew that spilled into his mouth and tried again. He'd kicked his shoes off long ago, so it was his bare toes that found purchase. As an elbow gained the ledge, he used his hand to push the window up enough to fit through. He balanced on the window's frame for a moment before he landed inside with a crash onto a hardwood floor. The room was dark and quiet. Aaron sighed despite the approaching danger. Above all the room was utterly and completely dry. No time for rest now though. Already he heard the boat scraping the wall outside and the strange-accented voices. Aaron scuttled away on hands and knees, turning to huddle against the backend of a closed door just in time to see the flare from a torch poke through the window and into the room. Behind the light was a gruesome face, tattooed and snarling. Fire red eyes locked with Aaron's. A chuckle erupted from blackened lips.

With one hand at his vest, Aaron stood. Not knowing or caring what alchemical vial he grabbed hold of, he unstoppered the first he found and, with a swing of his arm, splashed its contents across that glaring visage. There was an immediate yelp of pain and a quick shuffling back out the window. Not waiting to see what monster poked its head through next, Aaron ran from the room. But legs already pushed past their limit were heavy and slow. He'd not gone far when he heard the boatmen behind him, shrieking for his blood as they tumbled through the doorway in pursuit. Their presence pushed Aaron to new heights. It was that or die. At the end of the hall, he stumbled through an open door and slammed it shut behind him. Through another window he saw an estate wall, collapsed, the rubble forming a sort of path onto the adjoining grounds. He leapt for it as more shouts sounded behind. Landing heavily, he forced himself to keep moving over the rocky fragments and onto the estate's grounds. He found a door, smashed in. From within, screams, and the sounds of metal on metal. Aaron turned and, seeing that the boatmen already made their way along the rubble path, bolted through the open doorway. From the base of a stair he saw more of the squat, armored creatures moving with weapons in hand from one room to another. The screams went silent. Aaron did not stop. He swept through the entry and into a kitchen beyond before he reentered the darkness outside. The ground here was damp, but free of debris, ending at a wall where Aaron thankfully found a hole to slip through. Beyond was an estate garden. His breathing came in great heaves as he ran. Despite his best efforts, he felt the presence of his pursuers narrowing the distance between them. There was a rear stair he stumbled up and a long, sconce-lit hallway. The first corridor led to another. He took every turn he could, plunging through every door that opened. Anything to throw off his pursuers. None of it seemed to make any difference. Always, there were the grunts and shouts of the boatmen drawing closer and closer.

Aaron saw no one else. Nothing looked familiar. The rough wood floor beneath his bare feet changed to stone, then back to wood, but smooth and polished this time. Another passage and his feet touched marble and long, plush rugs. Everything was dry. Oil lamps hanging from ornamental chandeliers provided abundant light. Sweeping past a row of mirrors and flowing tapestries, his flight came to an abrupt halt at a black, iron-clad door. The door was closed and so tall Aaron had to bend at the waist to take in its full height. From its other side he heard the clash of metal on metal. It didn't matter. One glance over his shoulder and Aaron put his full weight into it. The door opened so smoothly that Aaron found himself stumbling half a dozen footfalls beyond its threshold before he could stop himself. Once he had, he froze in disbelief at the sight before him.

Here was a world consumed by fire, smoke, and the chaos of battle. Soldiers of Norwynne armed with sword and shield fought against a host of axe and hammer wielding raiders while hellish light from a dozen conflagrations consumed furniture, tapestries, and wall and ceiling beams. By the light of so many fires, Aaron finally recognized his pursuers for what they were. Dwarves. Though they outnumbered the men, such advantage seemed unnecessary, for their attack was pure savagery, without mercy, and with a skill Aaron had scarce seen in the daily drills of the keep's soldiery. The number of dead was telling. Few were dwarven.

Aaron wanted to turn around, to run through the great doorway, slam the door, and forget he'd ever looked on this nightmare. But he knew there was no safety in that direction either. He took a moment to square his shoulders against the chaos, then he plunged into it. Heat and smoke embraced him as the thrust of sword and the swish of axe and hammer melded into a symphony unlike any he'd heard before. He picked a haphazard path through the groups of combatants. So occupied were they with their own life and death struggle that he was hardly noticed by friend or foe. Aaron had no idea where he was going. He knew only that he needed to keep moving. Now, he had to keep moving as he was forced to dodge a retreating soldier then dive past a dwarven axe that might have split him in half. Direction was lost as the way quickly became a maze, with ever-shifting byways and corridors made up of fire and smoke and battling combatants. The moment a lane opened, Aaron dashed down it, but it was only to find the way blocked, forcing him to alter course again. Finally a space opened and he darted for the gap, but just as fast stopped dead in his tracks. Not because the way narrowed or closed up, but because standing at the end of that lane was a real monster. Taller and thicker than any of the others, it was a dwarf who surely was the king of perdition, for he burned. Flame not only surrounded him, it swathed him, his entire being ablaze with red-orange hellfire. Far from contorting his body in agony, he delighted in it, his wide eyes and face lit with pleasure, for the flame did not consume his black hair, skin, or the ragtag swaddling of furs and hardened leather that was his armor. The whole of him burned so bright it hurt to look upon him. There was only one part of this dwarven demon affected by the smoking flame. His hand, though it did not burn, was a blackened ruin, the fingers charred and mangled, the hand itself, useless. In his other hand was a bloodied, double-edged axe, blazing with fire and exuding black smoke as it danced with a foe Aaron recognized as Vuller, Lord of Norwynne Keep. Vuller wore a mail shirt and loose bottoms only. His sword was held in one bare hand and his shield in the other. Others—those who'd rallied to their lord's aide—were scattered around him, dead. Lord Vuller stood alone.

Aaron turned and ran. He made it half a dozen paces before he tripped and fell. He rolled to his back, tried to get up, but he suddenly didn’t have the strength. He was done. Done running. Done trying—and failing—to save anyone. Even himself. Everything was gone now. Everyone was dead. Elsanar, Rion, Shanna. He wanted to cry for them, but the heat and flames had dried his eyes past the point of tears. Aaron waited, for the flames and the battle and the flaming axe that he knew, in the end, must come for him too. Staring heavenward, he waited for any one of them, or perhaps all of them.

Instead, he saw a dwarven raider falling from the sky. Or, rather, falling from a balcony, high up. Ragged beard, bulging eyes, and arms flailing so wildly the dwarf must have thought them wings. Surrounding him was a cloud of shattered glass. Fascinated despite his fatigue, Aaron studied the dwarf's trajectory, wondering where he might land as both dwarf and the swarm of glass drew nearer and nearer until—

Aaron rolled away, just managing to put his back to the glass that fell on him like rain. The dwarf impacted the floor with a thump of flesh and the crunch of bone. A gurgling came from the dwarf's mouth, then nothing. Aaron didn't turn to look at him. Instead, his glance shot up to the balcony. It was without balustrade, lined instead from end-to-end with a sheet of muraled glass now punctured at its center. Aaron estimated its height at four stories. High enough that he couldn't believe anyone would jump that distance willingly until he saw the shadow of a man, not a dwarf, materialize within the glass's shattered opening. The man stood there not even a second before he jumped. No wings sprouted from his back, no sorcery slowed his fall. Aaron saw only the vague outline of an expressionless face, a long jacket that billowed about him, and the glint of steel in either hand. Then the vision of the man's fall was blotted out by the wicked grin of one of Aaron's dwarven pursuers. With a sharp intake of breath and axe already held high, the dwarf let the weapon fall. Death had come.

But not for Aaron.

The dwarf's mouth went wide as the point-end of a sword poked out from his chest. The axe fell from his hand. He groaned only once as he crumbled to the ground, dead. Standing over the slain dwarf was the man who'd jumped from the balcony. Aaron knew him. Stark white eyes. Blue-black skin that shimmered in the flicker of flames. A sword, covered in blood, that Aaron had held in his own hands only hours before.

Master Ensel Rhe Alon.

The eslar paid Aaron no heed as he turned on the dwarves closest, showing them no mercy. His khatesh flicked out like a razor tongue, piercing, cutting, and slashing, while a dagger in his other hand claimed its fair share of victims. He was a whirlwind of steel and death, moving so quickly that nothing touched him. In moments, the area about Aaron was cleared. Then the eslar made straight for Lord Vuller, who remained locked in combat with the wielder of the terrible, flaming axe. Others tried to stop his approach: a screaming dwarf with a knee-length beard leaped out from amongst the smoke with warhammer held high. Ensel Rhe split him down the middle. Another came at him low, crouching with teeth bared and short axes held in either hand. The eslar batted the blades aside, smashing a booted foot into the dwarf's face. Two more took his place almost immediately. One swung a hammer at Master Rhe, the other stabbed with a short spear. Ensel Rhe let the latter jab past him as he leaned away from the swing of the hammer. Then he released his knife and grasped the shaft of the spear, holding it and its wielder in thrall while he dispatched the other attacker with a slash to the throat. A quick jerk of the spear to draw the other closer, then he too met the same fate. The eslar was only yards from Lord Vuller now, but then it no longer mattered. Vuller, eyes gone wild and mouth open in desperation, raised a shield that already burned with small flames where one side of it had been sliced off. The dwarf, flaming axe held high, let out a great barrel of a laugh as his weapon fell. It sliced through the center of Vuller's shield as if it were parchment, cleaving through the lord's arm, the mail protecting his body, and, finally, the flesh beneath. Vuller fell dead without a sound.

In that moment, the battle was lost. Soldiers across the great hall, who'd not seen a battle like this in their lifetimes and who had just now witnessed their lord fall, turned and ran. Some dropped weapons and shields, others used them to cut a path through flame and smoke or to knock burning debris aside. The dwarves took advantage of the panic, running them down one-by-one and showing no mercy.

Master Rhe was oblivious. His stride never slackened as he neared the dwarf with the burning axe. The dwarf turned to meet him with a grin full of rotted and broken teeth. One hand lightly held his burning, smoking axe. The other, with fingers stiff and blackened, hung at his side. No words were wasted as the dwarf greeted the eslar with a swing of his axe meant to cut him in half at the waist. The dwarf was fast, but his speed was nothing next to Master Rhe, who avoided the attack and slashed at the dwarf in the same motion. Hell-wielder shrugged the wound off, wielding his axe in a return stroke that left flame and smoke in its wake and cloaked just enough of Master Rhe's movement from Aaron that when the smokescreen dissipated there was blood streaming from the dwarf's neck. Thick-fingers did nothing to stop the blood from gushing forth.

Hell-wielder's demise did not go unnoticed. Aaron was surprised, though, when the other raiders did not try to stop Ensel Rhe. Instead, in a mad rush, they went for the flaming axe that fell from the dwarf’s grasp. Whatever sorcery had ruled the weapon had fled. The moment the dwarf released it the emanation of flame and smoke ceased. Yet it remained a prize worth fighting over as dwarf turned on dwarf in their bid to possess it. Ensel Rhe strode through the chaos unhindered, reaching Aaron in moments and slowing only enough to reach down and haul him to his feet.

"Let's go."

The eslar's words were accompanied by a shove that sent Aaron stumbling forward towards a closed door. Aaron shot a glance over one shoulder. The eslar's face with those stark white eyes and blue-black skin was an unreadable mask. Aaron nearly stumbled into the door. He tried the knob, but it was locked.

"Get out of the way."

He'd barely done so when Master Rhe smashed it in with a single kick. Aaron was half-shoved, half-dragged into a lantern lit hall where the eslar immediately set a pace Aaron could scarcely match. He simply had nothing left. Master Rhe supported him, carrying him up and down a blur of passages, staircases, and halls. Aaron's cognizance resurfaced only when they emerged outside and when, without hesitance, the eslar appeared ready to plunge them both into the floodwaters. Thought of reentering that bracken, freezing filth sickened Aaron. He balked, pulling away without thinking. But Ensel Rhe held him firm, making him see the small dwarven boat that waited at the end of a long ledge. Relief swept through him. Aaron didn't remember getting into the boat, and so he was surprised when he opened his eyes to find himself lying at the stern, the craft already cast off and Master Rhe manning a single, cloth-wrapped oar.

Shouting and screaming, distant, soon faded altogether. Darkened windows passed by one after the other. They saw no one else. At least, Aaron saw no one else, for no sooner had he regained cognizance when the boat's steady rhythm lulled him back into a fitful slumber. When he woke, he saw that nothing had changed. It was still night. They remained within the city. And Master Rhe still rowed. More than that, his home was still laid waste. His mentor and friends, slain. The quiet hemmed in such thoughts until they overwhelmed Aaron, and he broke into a fit of sobbing he was powerless to stop. He buried his head in his arms and drew his knees close.

The boat shifted, and Aaron felt a strong hand on his shoulder. A single gloved finger slipped beneath his chin, prompting him to raise his head. He did so, taking a moment to wipe the tears from his eyes with a sodden sleeve before his stare met Master Rhe's. There was no solace in the eslar's otherworldly eyes, no commiseration. Their depths were hard, unyielding. Alien.

"Compose yourself," the eslar said, his voice a whisper, "and remain silent. We are still in danger."

Aaron managed a single nod, then he looked away. He sank deeper into the boat, clenching his arms across his chest in a vain attempt to ward off the cold while Master Rhe returned to his singular task of propelling them forward and into the dark. Whether the taciturn mercenary led them to safety or more danger, Aaron didn't know. If there were any safe places left in the world, he doubted the killer seated across from him was going to be the one to lead him there.

5. Captured

SHANNA WAS A FIGHTER. ALWAYS had been.

That was why, in the moment just before Aaron's grip slipped from hers, when she knew his strength was almost gone, her panic disappeared. But not suddenly and not without effort. Shanna took hold of it. Wrestled it to the ground. Beat at it every time it tried to rise until, finally, it stayed down. Even still, she kicked it for good measure. Satisfied, she took a deep breath and held it. She knew the waters were going to take her. It was as inevitable as Aaron's grip giving way. Then it did, and just like that, as the water seized her, the calm she'd so forcefully mustered snapped and terror took hold.

The water dragged her down, enveloping her in a liquid shell of frothing, salty darkness that at once burned her eyes and pierced her very core with its icy chill. Thoughts and action, twisted into meaninglessness, fell away as she plunged into the void. Mind and body were lost to her as the streaming jet twisted and turned her at will, all the while hurtling her deeper and deeper into the abyss. She wanted to scream. She almost did. But the instinctual part of her mind warned against expending any of the precious air she'd just managed to suck in. Still, every second that passed brought more panic, for she knew that every inch she fell diminished the chances she'd ever see the light of day again.

Something brushed against her. Without thinking, Shanna grabbed hold of it, wrapping it tight with both arms. It's presence helped right her and, feeling the softness there, she buried her face in it, for already her lungs were starting to ache. If there were an end to it now, if she suddenly somehow was released from the flow and given even a pocket of air to drink from then everything would be alright. But no such thing happened. Though she was no longer tumbling, the force of the water still dragged her down so that, with every passing moment, her lungs cried out all the more. Shanna answered the only way she knew how. She clenched her fists, pushing the desire to draw breath deep down, burying it behind her will. She would not die. Not here. Not alone in the dark without ever having done any of the things she'd dreamt of doing. Her lungs, oblivious and wanting only breath, elevated their pleading to angry demands. Shanna railed at them. She would not draw breath… would not… . Willpower was not enough. Her lungs issued one final demand—this one undeniable—and Shanna inhaled.

She gagged on froth—not water—the briny foam sucked into her mouth and throat. A moment's disbelief came and went and then she was falling—really falling this time—amidst a watery spray that all but blinded her. Her stomach lurched into her throat as she and the life-preserver she still clung to plummeted downward. Then the water sucked her in once more. She had no air, no warning. She sank, but it was only from the momentum of the fall this time. After a moment, she found herself slowing and then almost stopping altogether. Shanna let go of her life-preserver and, with frantic kicks and strokes, swam for the surface she hoped was not far. Darkness concealed her progress, but she made herself believe she was close. One more stroke, one more kick. It was enough. With a gasp, she broke the surface.

She heaved air into her lungs with great, heaving breaths, choking and coughing, but drawing in every bit of life-giving air she could. She did nothing else right away, reveling in the simple task of breathing as she tried not to think about how close she'd come to dying. She was alive, she told herself. Still alive, still here in the world of the living and still fighting, though she'd no idea where she was. It was too dark to see anything. She knew only that she'd fallen a great way. Deeper than she or anyone she knew had ever been. Before this, she'd never gone further than the Underkeep's third sub-level. That one time had been prompted by a dare. Ordinarily, no one went past sub-level two. Past that it was too dark and too deep and everyone knew only dwarves and wicked things were meant to dwell that far beneath the earth. Truthfully, she'd really no idea what exactly dwelt this far down, though her imagination, unbidden, conjured images of goblins, gorgons, and all sorts of other things she really shouldn't be thinking about right now. Things that could see in the dark just fine. Things that climbed walls and crept hunched over and slipped through the water as easily as an eel and—

Stop it!

There’s nothing down here, she told herself, repeating it over and over in her mind to keep from thinking of slimy, pock-marked sub-dwellers or bark-skinned trolls or gangly-eyed daubers—

Damn!

She had to get out of here.

Gulping down another breath, she put her back to the continuing sound of falling water and swam. The water was cleaner here, though still salty. It was cold, too. The coldest yet. She stopped every few minutes, probing with one foot for a bottom. On the fifth such try, she found it. She swam some more, testing every few feet until both feet touched. Then she half-swam, half-walked until, finally, she was out of the water entirely. Instantly, the air's chill seized her. Shirt, pants, and cloak all dripped. Her vest that she'd only hastily thrown on when she'd first noticed water seeping beneath her bedroom door was in no better shape. Looking down at her feet—but not seeing them because of the dark—she realized for the first time that her shoes were gone, likely pulled off her feet sometime during her descent. She felt her socks clinging only by the slimmest margin. She bent to fix them. Then, straightening, she ran her hands through her hair, wringing water droplets from the length of it. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

The darkness remained.

Shivering, she crossed her arms at her chest, holding a single hand out to probe the way ahead. There was nothing at first, but then her fingers felt something hard and cold—stone—but smooth, as if shaped by wind or water or a craftsman's hands. She reached out with her other hand and, figuring it for a wall, used it to guide her. Direction made no difference. She only felt that if she kept moving it would keep her mind from—

"Gods damn it!" she said as her knee struck something. "If I could only see—"

Light exploded before her.

Its brilliance caused her to raise an arm, but only for a moment as the brightness faded, leaving a more moderate ambiance behind. Blinking away spots, Shanna saw two bronze braziers, the closer of which she'd run her knee up against. Tongues of flame shot out from each of them, lighting between them an iron-banded door so massive, giants must have once strode through it. The walls to either side were clean, smooth, and seamless. Shanna backed away from it all, stopping only when her feet splashed the water. She turned, hoping the light revealed something of the way she'd come. Instead, she saw death.

Bodies like sodden logs drifted in time with ripples created by the crashing spill of a waterfall whose frothing edge she’d not been able to see until now. On some of the corpses, only the backs of heads were exposed. On others, entire bodies—and some faces—were visible. Seeing those faces made her legs go numb. She needn't wonder from whence those bodies had come, for she knew they'd entered this place the same way she had. Every one of them, even… even the one to which she'd held so tight.

Her legs would no longer support her. Shanna fell to all fours and, unable to stop herself, retched.

Some of them might have been alive, she thought, sucked into the water just as she had been. She coughed, spitting out vomit while she fought to keep from throwing up again. The one she'd clung to… there hadn't been any movement, but she'd been tossed about so willy-nilly she couldn’t be sure.

She crawled away from the water and fell to her side, squeezing her eyes shut against the darkness as she drew her knees close. Time's meaning faded and she must have dozed, for when cognizance returned her mind was laden with a fog that did not lift easily. The braziers, still burning as if they'd just been lit, shone through the haze, waking her. She wanted—needed—to rise, to find some way out of this place, but her arms and legs refused to move. It was the touch of the rising seawater lapping at her back and memories of the bodies still floating behind her that finally forced her to move. She crawled to the great door. Using a sodden sleeve, she wiped dry vomit from her chin, then rose on wobbly legs. Only after she'd taken a deep breath, steeling her nerves, did she take full stock of her situation. She was on a sort of beach, with the door on one side and the water on the other. Water from the falls fed the pool. She almost imagined she saw its level rising. Eventually, she'd lose her little oasis.

Knowing there was no going back, Shanna turned her attention to the great door. First, though, she was curious about the braziers. A cursory inspection failed to reveal a starting mechanism, nor did she detect the scent of burning oil. She saw hot rocks and the fire dancing over them and that was all. Dwarven magic, Shanna thought. She knew nothing of sorcery and, truth be told, little enough of dwarves except that they were short and ugly. Magic or not, the fire was warm and the heat, inviting. She held her hands to the flames, then removed and hung her cloak and vest from the leftmost brazier's iron prongs. After another moment soaking up the brazier's warmth, she took a closer look at the door. Dark, polished wood, it was banded with thick cuts of decorative iron and fixed with a great black handle covered in dust. Shanna ran a hand over it, feeling cool metal. Experimentally, she grasped the handle with one hand and tugged. The door did not budge. She tightened her grip and, using both hands this time, tried again. This time the door moved, but only slightly. Taking a deep breath, Shanna propped one foot against the wall and heaved with all of her strength. This time, the door slid open.

The opening—she'd managed to swing it only part of the way—was a blank wall of darkness. Light from the braziers' flames did not reach the dark, nor was there any light within. Shanna took a deep breath, then one step forward. Beyond the door's threshold, red-orange tongues sprang to life as another pair of braziers fired. What their light revealed caused Shanna to gasp, for inlaid into a white marble floor was a kaleidoscope of precious stones: rubies, sapphires, topazes, diamonds. Just one was more wealth than she'd ever laid eyes upon. All of them together… . They were a king's—no, a high king's—ransom. Shanna swallowed, disbelief keeping her perfectly still lest the slightest movement cause the display to somehow vanish.

Then it became too much.

Shanna dove the remainder of the way through the doorway and to the floor. Reaching for her knife, she swore, realizing it must have fallen victim to the raging floodwaters. She used her fingernails instead, lowering her head to spy out the crevices between gem and rock. Sputtering flames provided scant light for such work and Shanna found no way to gain purchase. She kept trying. Many had descended into the Underkeep's depths searching for hidden dwarven treasure. But no one had ever found anything. The dwarves had not been driven out. They'd left, taking everything of value with them. Most came to believe this, one way or another. Even visitors, who came to explore the depths and were charged a hefty fee by Norwynne's lord for the right to do so, were grudgingly convinced when their efforts proved fruitless. But she had found something! Where everyone else had failed, she had found a piece of the dwarven folk's lost treasure. Just one of the stones would make her a queen! She'd never have to sleep in the drafty Underkeep again. She'd have the finest clothes, the finest lodgings—the finest everything! Despite her best efforts, though, the floor refused to release their hold on even one of the precious stones. Shanna doubled her efforts, grunting with exertion as she imagined the indulgences that would be hers. Hot baths whenever she wanted. Her bed made up with fresh, silk sheets every evening. A host of servants to see to her every whim. She'd treat them fairly. Shanna knew what the life of a servant was like and would never make them do something she wouldn’t do herself. But someone had to sweep the floors and wash the dishes and stock the shelves and remove the trash and—

Shanna's fingernail grip slipped and she fell, tumbling straight to her backside. Snarling, she swept a tangle of hair away and was about to leap into her work once more when she stopped. She held up her fingers. The tips were scraped raw. Several nails were torn. Her gaze slid to the floor. She'd made no progress other than to wipe away dust. Shanna sighed. This—the wealth, the dreams, the better life—wasn't for her. It never had been.

Shoulders sagging, she retrieved her vest and cloak, shuddering to put the still wet garments on but unwilling to leave either behind. Then she returned to the door and started down the hall. More braziers, always ahead of her, sprang to life unbidden. She didn't look at the floor, though the colored brilliance that lined every step continued to both tantalize and mock her. Noise from the waterfall faded until the sputtering of the braziers and the slap of her wet socks on the floor were the only sounds. She walked a great hall. At its end, a large, open arch greeted her. Light from the braziers did not reach the arch's full height, obscuring the dwarven coign indicating what lie beyond. It didn't matter. This was the only way to go. Taking a single step through, she was immediately greeted by the flares of more braziers. This time, more than just those nearest came to life. One after the other, on both sides, more braziers ignited until a circle was formed that encompassed the whole of a vast chamber. Like the great arch at the entry, the room’s ceiling was so high it remained obscured in shadow. Beneath Shanna's feet, the white, patterned marble continued. So did the gemstones. Lining the circumference of the room, set in front of the braziers which were almost against the wall, were white marble benches. Their focal point was the center of the chamber.

As she approached the space, she saw a wide, rounded depression set into the floor. Pale, golden light shone from it. Visions of gold flooded her mind as she quickened her pace. She let out an audible sigh when she saw it was nothing so grand. Seamless with the floor, the depression was a perfect half-sphere five paces in diameter. Stone partitions divided it into four equally empty sections. Shanna looked, but saw no source for the light emanating from it. There were dwarven runes carved into each section: circles and triangles and squiggly lines that meant nothing to her. She waited a moment longer for something to happen. When nothing did, she stomped her way to the chamber's other side where she very nearly overlooked a single door nestled so tightly into the wall it was near invisible. It had no handle, but swung outward easily enough from just a soft nudge. Beyond it was another hall, but smaller with a plain floor of blocked stone. There was a torch, rotted and stunted, hanging just beyond the door's threshold, but no braziers. Shanna snatched at the torch, returning to one of the chamber's braziers to light it. The moment she released the door, it swung closed without a sound. With the torch sputtering to life, Shanna re-nudged it open and stepped into the hall beyond. She let the door close behind her, realizing too late that there was no handle on the other side. More than that, the door fit into the wall so perfectly there was not the slightest sign of a seam. It was yet another reminder that the gemstones—which she'd still thought she might return to someday when better equipped—were not meant for her. She thought of marking the spot where the door opened with a smudge from her torch, but there seemed no point. She'd never find her way down to this place again. Even if she did, it would likely be flooded and inaccessible.

Figuring one direction was as good as another, Shanna held her torch high before her, turned to the right, and started down the hall. She found the architecture more familiar and unfortunately devoid of precious stones as she passed under and through embossed arches, banded doors, passages, and, on more than one occasion, great halls filled with neatly arranged pillars. She gave it all a cursory look. Just when the feeling that she was hopelessly lost tugged at her thoughts, she found a staircase going up. Up was good. She took the steps in two's and three's just as her and Aaron had so often done before all of this had happened.

What had happened?

She'd been so occupied she hadn't yet stopped to think about it. There'd been an earthquake. A big one. And then the flooding. When they'd discovered the door blocking their escape and, soon after, the seawater rushing in… Shanna had thought they were going to die. But then Aaron had come. Dear, sweet Aaron, who always had an idea for everything. Maybe once she'd gotten out of here and found him he'd know how to find and drain the water from the dwarven secret room. She'd split the treasure with him, of course, then they'd leave Norwynne behind and never look back. They'd buy a carriage, with horses and a driver, and travel all over Uhl. Or at least as far as the roads went. Along the way, they'd find a quaint mansion, with a quiet garden and plenty of land. She'd no idea what she'd do with the land, but she was sure she'd figure something out. In the house she'd have a full room just for clothes where she'd hang so many outfits she'd never have to wear the same one twice. It might take some convincing. Aaron had a promising career ahead of him here. But she knew she had a way with him. She was quite certain she could convince him.

At the top of the stairs Shanna shivered from the touch of a breeze. She held her torch high and, stepping forward, saw a gaping tear in the wall that looked back at her like some great eye. It was low enough that she could stand on her tiptoes and lean in. With hair blowing off her shoulders and the distinct smell of salt assailing her, she peered down the opening's length to see a jagged ruin of a passage that narrowed just at the edge of her torch's light. Chewing her lip, she considered it. The space was narrow. Almost too narrow. She'd have to crawl on her stomach and leave her light and cloak behind, but as long as it didn't close up on her, it should lead her out. She only hoped it didn't end in a sheer drop to the ocean. She let out a deep breath, bearing in mind for a moment her other options. There were so many tunnels and rooms in the Underkeep, she might wander for days—weeks, even—and still not find her way out.

Her mind made up, Shanna took off her cloak. It would only snag in the tight confines. She lifted herself up and into the great eye, turning only to wedge her torch into a slit before she began shuffling through the opening. At first, she only needed to hunch. But then she was on her knees. Two more strides and it was all fours. Even that didn't last long as she went to her belly. She kept her arms in tight, using her forearms to squirm her way forward as she gritted her teeth against the pain of jammed elbows and knees. Once she was past the reach of her torch's light, the way began sloping upward. Shanna shuffled faster, immediately regretting it as her pant leg caught on a jagged protrusion. She yanked herself free, tearing the fabric and invoking a line of pain across her thigh that brought tears to her eyes. She needed no further warning to keep her pace tempered, though such caution was forgotten the moment she heard the distinct sound of the ocean. Scurrying forward, she found the ceiling high enough to regain her knees. Then she saw the most glorious thing. The night sky, still cloudy, but bathed in moonlight. She approached the vision, stopping only when the passage went no further. She took a moment to deeply inhale the cool, night air before she took stock of her surroundings. Beneath her was a grassy expanse, far enough away she'd have to climb down to reach it. Shanna wasted no time, lowering herself slowly as she took care to keep a grip or foothold before probing for the next purchase. Places to clench a hand or set a foot were abundant. She almost made it all the way without incident. But, with ten feet still to go, one foot slipped. It was enough to send her sliding down the cliff face. Pain sliced her chin and then she was no longer sliding, but falling. The next thing she knew she was flat on her back, watching stars dance across her vision. She blacked out.

When her eyes finally opened again the stars were gone, replaced by hulking shapes that hovered over her. Rough hands grabbed her, hoisting her up while gruff voices and the smell of leather and brine dominated her disoriented senses. She felt the tops of her feet sliding across the grass. She tried to speak, but managed only an incoherent mumble. She must have passed out then, for when she next woke she was being carried. Again, she demanded release. "Let… me go." She let out a deep breath as she tried to bring her vision into focus.

"Eh?" said a man's voice.

"Let me go," she said again, this time more coherently.

"Ah, so there's some life left in you after all."

Strong hands made sure she could stand without assistance, then she was released. Shanna shook her head clear and looked at her rescuer. He was a tall man with dark, rumpled hair and a long moustache. He wore a hardened leather breastplate over a nightshirt tucked haphazardly into a pair of pants. A small sword was belted at his waist. Shanna took in others beyond him. A few held weapons. The soldier's voice snapped her attention back to him.

"You're lucky we found you, girl. The city is crawling with dwarves. We only just made it outside what's left of the walls without getting caught. You've damn near been out of it for—"

"Sergeant Tippin!" a whispered voice said. "They're coming!"

Tippin grabbed Shanna by the shoulder. "Come. We have to move."

Shanna was half-dragged along a rock-littered surface. Behind, she heard others running with her. Further away, gruff voices grew distant for a moment, but then Shanna heard a loud outburst and the shouts drew nearer. Risking a quick glance over her shoulder, she spotted torches bobbing in the darkness.

They entered a stand of trees, the lean trunks forming a protective screen as they slipped between them and into a clearing beyond. Shanna thought at first they might use the place as a refuge, but then she saw the torches ahead and she knew they were trapped.

Leather clad dwarves stormed into the clearing from all sides. Sergeant Tippin shouted for those armed to form a ring around Shanna and the others. He'd barely drawn his sword when the dwarves were on them. Steel rang. A man whose back was to Shanna grunted in pain, then he fell forward, dead. Others were cut down or knocked senseless. In moments, it was over.

The dwarves said nothing as they pushed and shoved the refugees into a line. Then, one dwarf, the leader of the bunch by his look, gestured at them to start moving. They obeyed. All but one woman, who remained still and who whispered words of madness over and over to herself. The woman was about Shanna's height, but more than three times her girth. Shanna recognized her immediately. It was Nora, the woman who meant to see her condemned to a life of drudgery and misery. The dwarf who'd gestured them forward showed her little patience: without a word, he shoved her so hard she stumbled to the ground. She stayed down, covering her face with her arms. Soft whimpers escaped her lips. Patience gone, the dwarf raised his axe to finish her off. Chaos nearly ensued. Several men made to launch themselves at their captors, but brandished weapons stopped them in their tracks. The dwarf made ready to bury his axe in Nora.

"Wait!"

Shanna hadn't realized she'd spoken, nor that she'd stepped forward, until she was right in front of the dwarf. Only Nora, lying on the ground, separated them. Shanna met the dwarf's eyes. She saw no compassion in them, no pity, but he lowered his axe. Slowly, Shanna held a hand out to Nora. The woman must have recognized her, for she smiled faintly, then accepted her hand. Together, they fell in line with the others. Shanna gave the woman's hand a squeeze.

"We're going to be alright," she said to her, as much for the woman's benefit as her own. "We're going to be alright."

6. Escape

AARON CAME ALERT THE MOMENT the skiff stopped. They were outside Norwynne, run aground in a quagmire made when the floodwaters had surged and then retreated. Just yesterday, the area might have been meadow, pasture, or plowed farmland. Now, a glance over the boat's side showed Aaron a land salted and bracken.

The eslar jumped from the craft without a word. Aaron, moving slower, attempted to stand, but he only set the skiff rocking and nearly lost his balance before Ensel Rhe yanked him out bodily. Mud oozed between his toes as he sank to his knees in the muck. While Master Rhe reached into the boat, Aaron stood in silence, watching him and shivering. Aaron had spied only a single pack with them. Master Rhe straightened with it hoisted over one shoulder. Then he put a foot to the skiff and pushed it away. They both watched it drift before Master Rhe led the both of them to higher—and drier—ground.

The first thing Aaron did was slough the mud from his feet. It was a futile distraction from the breeze that set his teeth chattering. Soaked through, he knew he'd little hope of getting his clothes dry until the sun came up. Even then it depended on the cloud cover, which as of now had diminished only enough to let the barest of moonlight through. With sunrise hours away still, Aaron was just resigning himself to frigid misery when Master Rhe reached into his pack and tossed him a bundle of clothing. He promptly unraveled a dry tunic and a thin but serviceable cloak. He had his wet tunic exchanged for the dry one and the cloak around his shoulders in moments. He rolled his wet laboratory vest up for the time being, mindful of keeping its stoppered vials, all of which appeared intact, safe. He'd put it back on once it had a chance to dry. Aaron uttered a thank you to the eslar, but Master Rhe paid him no heed as he busied himself carving a shallow depression into the ground with the toe of his boot. He gestured for Aaron to toss his wet tunic in, then he covered it with dirt and leaves. When he was finished, he did the unexpected. He drew a knife and pointed its tip at Aaron. Aaron's look of worry vanished quickly as the eslar flipped the blade so the handle was presented first.

"Here," he said. "Take this." He unfastened the knife's sheath from his belt and, when Aaron did nothing more than stare at the naked blade, plunged the knife into the sheath and again held it out. Aaron still did nothing but stare. "You'll need a weapon," Master Rhe said, "to protect yourself."

Finally, Aaron reached out and took it. He felt like he should draw the blade, test its balance, examine its workmanship. That was what a soldier or mercenary would do. But he was neither. He inserted the sheath under his belt and, again, murmured a thank you. Then, before his courage failed him, he asked, "Have you any shoes?"

The eslar's gaze went to Aaron's feet, which were pale with cold where muck still clung to them. Ensel Rhe shook his head. "No. You'll have to make do." Then he hoisted his pack to his shoulder and started walking away from the floodwaters and Norwynne.

"Wait!"

Master Rhe stopped.

"Where are you going?" Aaron asked.

He jammed a thumb over one shoulder. "This way."

"But, what is that way?"

"That is not important right now. What is important is that we get as far from the city as possible. The dwarves will be looking for us."

The eslar was just making to turn again when Aaron blurted, "But… we can't just leave! There's folk there that need our help."

"There is nothing either of us can do for them. They are on their own, as are we. Now, let's go." Without looking to see if Aaron followed, the eslar set off, disappearing into the dark.

At first, Aaron stayed put. Glancing in the direction of Norwynne, he eyed the skiff, which had gotten caught in the mud and not gone far. He looked past it, into the dark. Somewhere out there were dwarves who, for reasons unknown, wanted to kill him. Going back would be foolish. Suicidal, even. Yet was fleeing any less? Aside from some outlying farms and a smattering of mills, there was nothing around Norwynne for leagues. Unless Master Rhe meant to hole up in one of those, Aaron had no idea where they were going. He could either stay here alone in the dark and find no answers at all or attempt to coerce any bit of information from Master Rhe that he could. He chose the latter.

Once he'd caught up, Aaron positioned himself directly in the eslar's path. "Why did you save me? I mean, why only me?"

Ensel Rhe only stared at him with his stark white eyes. For a moment, Aaron wondered if he was not going to answer, but then he said, "I don't know."

"What—What do you mean you don't know?"

"I was asked that if things should come to their worst to get you from the city."

"But… why? By whom? Master Elsanar?"

The eslar would say nothing more as he gestured for Aaron to start moving. Aaron looked at him a moment longer, then he sighed. He was stuck. He couldn't go back, and while he didn't necessarily want to go forward, he also knew he couldn't stay here. He had no choice but to fall into step and go where Master Rhe led.

They traveled without light into the Grey Hills. Sparsely wooded with smaller foliage that thickened the further they went from the ocean, Master Rhe had little difficulty with the terrain or the faint light. Aaron, though, stumbled or tripped on every root, tangled bush, or piece of deadwood in their path. Ensel Rhe offered no conversation as he remained just far enough ahead to appear near invisible against the dark of the hills. Much of his clothing was dark leather: pants, boots, gloves, and brigandine vest. That, and his long coat, also dark, made him a shadow. Aaron might have quickly lost sight of him if the eslar did not stop at times either to wait or simply to listen. Aaron knew without asking that he listened for signs of pursuit. With his own ears Aaron heard only the usual night sounds: the hum of insects, the chirping of night swallows, the hoot of an owl. But nothing man or, of more concern, dwarven made. Aaron was relieved. While he'd gladly run into other survivors, he'd had enough of dwarves. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind when they heard the sudden sound of voices.

Ensel Rhe sank to a crouch. He motioned at Aaron to do the same. Aaron obeyed, making himself small beneath a canopy of brush. The eslar, ahead, now returned to Aaron's position, kneeling close. A finger at his lips cautioned Aaron into silence. They heard the voices again. Distant, but closing, the words themselves were unintelligible, though they were spoken in such a rush that there was no denying their urgency. Further away a chorus of raucous hollering sounded. Dwarves! Without thinking, Aaron started to rise. A firm hand on his shoulder forced him down. Briefly, he wondered if Master Rhe planned to leap out and slay the raiders just as he'd done in Lord Vuller's hall. One look at the eslar's face told him otherwise. While the fine lines of his cheekbones were rigid and his lips tight, the hand not on Aaron's shoulder remained upon the ground, away from his weapons. His body seemed relaxed, as if he were only waiting for whatever was happening out there to conclude so he and Aaron could continue on their way.

A mad scurrying announced the presence of the lead group. Aaron swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His stomach was tied in knots, the skin of his forearms and the back of his neck tingling with a preternatural awareness of the violence to come. Though he remained stock-still, part of him wanted to leap up, to wave the refugees to safety before the dwarves appeared, but he was suddenly more afraid for himself. He remembered the dwarves' leering visages, the savage delight in their eyes as they had chased him. Part of him wanted to turn and run right then and there, but he forced himself to remain still. In the next moment, the battle began.

It was over quickly. A short clash of weapons, several sharp shrieks, and then the groans of the dying. Though the scene remained hidden by the shrubbery separating them, Aaron kept his eyes averted anyway. Only when shouting from the invaders told him that the captives had been cowed did he look up through eyes rimmed with tears. He saw torches bobbing in the dark and a ghostly scene was lit before him. In a clearing, dwarves formed a ring around a small group of keep-folk. Aaron watched as the dwarves started to usher them away. Most fell into line, submitting. But one—a woman—had other ideas. Despite repeated orders for her to start moving, she remained frozen in place. One of the dwarves shoved her. She stumbled forward and fell. It looked as if the dwarf meant to kill her. But then someone—one of the captives—intervened, walking forward to offer a hand to the fallen woman. Light from a torch swept across the figure. She was short, lean, with delicate hands and a sweep of raven hair that—

Shanna?

Aaron forgot himself. He started to rise. It couldn't be her. Yet… Aaron's lips parted, whether to call out or not he wasn't sure. He wasn't given the chance. A hand clamped over his mouth and another grabbed hold of him, dragging him down. Aaron struggled until Ensel Rhe draped his full weight across him. He was released only when the dwarves and their captives were gone.

Aaron didn't spare Master Rhe a glance as he rose and then pushed his way through the brush to walk into the clearing where he'd either just seen Shanna or her very likeness. Aaron stared in the direction they'd gone, wondering if he should try following. Instead he turned on Master Rhe.

"Why did you stop me?" he asked, his voice betraying his frustration and anger.

"Revealing our presence would have benefited no one."

"But…" Aaron clenched his fists at his sides. "We could have helped them. I could have helped her escape. I saw her. I know I did." He was sure of it now, though he'd no idea how she could have survived.

Ensel Rhe's eyes narrowed. "More raiders will be scouring the hills. We have to get moving."

Aaron wanted to say more, but met with Master Rhe's hard stare he felt his anger squashed until he felt compelled to nod in acquiescence. Then he was following the eslar deeper into the wilderness. For a time, the hope of seeing Shanna alive sustained him. But it was not long before he began to question what he'd seen. In his mind, the images shifted and changed The hair had not been so long. The shape not so lithe. It had all happened so fast, the sight of her, or the person he'd thought was her, so brief. Aaron remembered the water sucking her down. The horror on her face. The pleading. She was gone. Dead. As much as he wanted her alive, she wasn't. Whoever he had seen had been someone else. It had to have been.

The sun came, finally, but it was only to light the morning sky from behind a thin shield of clouds whose gray threatened rain at any moment. Ensel Rhe did not slacken their pace. For a time, there was only the branches swiping Aaron's body and face and the simple effort of walking. They stopped at intervals, halting only long enough to rest weary legs and feet for a few minutes at most. One time, during one of their breaks, Ensel Rhe offered Aaron a drink from a leather skin. Aaron took a long draught, not realizing how thirsty he was until the cool liquid touched his lips. Ensel Rhe let him drink his fill before taking the skin from him. The eslar took only a small sip for himself. Then, without a word, and far too soon for Aaron's liking, Ensel Rhe started off again.

They'd gone only a league more when a noise—a deep bellowing—stopped them in their tracks as it swept across the hills. Its sound sent chills up and down Aaron's spine. Then it was gone. Moments later, it sounded again.

A horn.

Ensel Rhe turned to face the sound. There was no mistaking that it came from the direction of Norwynne.

In all, the horn sounded four times before the night was finally returned to quiet. When its last crescendo had faded and it seemed there were to be no more, Ensel Rhe spoke.

"Let's get moving."

Except Aaron, try though he might, could not. "I—I can't," Aaron said. "I can't move. The horn—"

"It is only exhaustion. Your body is unaccustomed—"

"No! It's the horn… it did something…" He couldn't explain it in words, but he'd felt it reaching deep into him, clenching at his very soul.

Ensel Rhe did not argue the claim further. Wrapping an arm around Aaron's waist, he half-carried, half-dragged him for a time. They made slow progress that way, but it was obvious to Aaron that Ensel Rhe would rather make small progress than none at all. They stopped to rest more frequently, but for shorter amounts of time. After the third stop, Aaron found his legs obeying him again and he was able to go on unassisted. Still, the horn's sound echoed in his mind. Its call had been strong and loud, as if the blower had stood close. Too close. It had to have been dwarven. Norwynne's criers used horns to convey messages across the city, but he'd never heard the tone of this one's blare before. More than once, Aaron glanced behind, half-expecting to see dwarves spilling from the darkness. Such fears occupied his mind until, without warning and with no regard for Aaron's current state of exhaustion, Master Rhe quickened the pace. Aaron thought to voice a complaint, or a plea, asking him to slow down, but the eslar remained just far enough ahead that Aaron would have to shout for him to hear. Aaron was not about to draw attention to their presence.

The last of his strength was waning fast when Master Rhe finally called for a temporary halt to their death march. Without ceremony, Aaron collapsed to the ground right where he stood.

Ensel Rhe took his sword from his belt and found a place to sit close by. He laid the sheathed blade across his lap. His satchel, which Aaron thought he wore with great nonchalance considering what it held, stayed at his side.

"We should reach our destination mid-day," he said. "Are you hungry?"

Though Aaron barely heard the words through the fog in his mind, his stomach had no such difficulty as it reminded him he'd not eaten in some time. In response to Aaron's nod, Ensel Rhe tossed a small pouch at him. In it Aaron found an assortment of honey cakes which he devoured without thought. The last bite was sliding down his throat before it occurred to him that Ensel Rhe had not eaten and that he may have just consumed all of their food. Any inquiry into the matter was forgotten as he was offered the waterskin once more. Aaron took a long pull, handed it back, and then, without comment or ceremony, curled up on the ground and closed his eyes.

He did not open them, or come fully awake, until he felt a booted foot prodding him.

"Wake up," Aaron heard Ensel Rhe tell him. "Best we get moving again."

With effort, Aaron sat up, extended his arms and stretched. He felt no more rested than before.

"How long was I asleep?"

"A few minutes."

Aaron glanced up at the eslar, who returned his stare.

"A few minutes? Couldn't you have let me sleep a little longer? I'm tired. I haven't slept since yesterday, or the night before. I—I need to rest."

"You need to get up. It isn't safe here."

Was it safe anywhere? Aaron did not voice the question, but instead rose, doing his best to ignore the complaints of his legs.

"You said we'd reach wherever it is we're going by mid-day," Aaron said. "Where are we going?"

"Further into the hills. Then into the forest."

Aaron glanced around. Sometime during the night stands of trees had sprung up. While they remained in the Grey Hills, they were not so far from the Dormont. He'd never been so close to the forest before. Which meant that, right now, he was further from the ocean than he'd ever been.

"There is a lodge," the eslar said, offering something more for once. "We'll stop there to rest and re-provision."

"A hunter's lodge?"

Communal lodges dotted the wilderness. As travelers fleeing a disaster, they were well within their rights to seek refuge in one.

"No." Ensel Rhe returned his sword to his belt and settled his pack. "Someone lives there. A woman."

A woman?

"Who?"

"Her name is Ursool."

Aaron did not know the name. He went about making his own preparations, which mostly involved massaging and stretching aching muscles.

"You may know her as the Woman of the Wood."

Aaron stopped. That name he had heard.

"The witch?"

"Yes."

"But…" Aaron suppressed a shudder. "But she's a witch!"

Ensel Rhe made no denial. "Yes."

"But why are we…" Aaron had heard the stories. Perhaps Master Rhe had not. "Folk say she's a warty old hag who eats children." That, and more. When young ones were not at hand, she tortured and ate cats, squirrels, dogs… anything she could get her hands on. All gave her a wide berth. When they did not, she made charms of ill nature that she left on their doorsteps. Not for any good reason, but just because she was a wicked, old woman. The Woman of the Wood was not someone you willfully visited. Everyone knew that.

"Whatever you have heard about her," Ensel Rhe said, "is likely not true. She does not eat children, for one."

"How do you know?"

"Because she cannot abide their presence long enough to cook them up."

Aaron paused. Was that a joke? Aaron noted that Master Rhe was not smiling.

"How do you know? Have you been there before?"

"It is how I know the way."

Ensel Rhe looked past Aaron, towards the direction they'd come. He was finished with this conversation. Aaron, however, was not.

"I'm not going."

Ensel Rhe's stare settled on him. "Excuse me?"

"I-I said I'm not going. I'm not going any further with you. I don't even know why you've brought me this far, but if you mean to take me to the Woman of the Wood then I know it's for no good. I won't go. I won't." Aaron realized he sounded like a pouty child and that he'd perhaps spoken out of turn, but right now he didn't care. He'd meant what he said. He wasn't going. Nothing Master Rhe said could change his mind.

"Stay here, then," Ensel Rhe said. "The dwarves can't be far behind. They should find you in no time." The eslar said nothing more, but turned and walked away.

Aaron stared at his departing form. He expected Master Rhe to stop, come back, and forcefully make him follow. A dozen steps later and he'd done none of those things. It was only a ruse, Aaron thought. Master Rhe had not taken him this far just to leave him out here in the wilderness. Half a dozen steps more and the eslar was disappearing into the foliage. Aaron took a few steps of his own in that direction, to better gauge the other's progress he told himself. Master Rhe might go a little further, but he'd turn around. He’s only trying to scare me, Aaron thought. Almost out of view now, Aaron suddenly couldn't stand the thought of being left alone.

"W-wait!"

Aaron ran to catch up. Ensel Rhe stopped.

"You can't just leave me," Aaron said. "I don't know where we are and…" Aaron tried to contain himself, but bottled up emotions were suddenly welling up, defying Aaron's best efforts to contain them. "I don't know why any of this happened. The earthquake and the waves and the flooding and the dwarves trying to… kill me." His shoulders slumped. He wanted nothing more than to just go home. He wanted Shanna back. Elsanar, too. He'd even welcome Corrin's abuse if it meant returning things to the way they'd been. But he knew there was no going back. Ever. Norwynne had been devastated. Shanna, Master Elsanar, the others—they were gone. He had only this now: a wayward life with a stranger who trafficked with the diabolical. Aaron's gaze strayed to Master Rhe's satchel. He visibly shuddered. As much as he might wish it otherwise, he knew he didn't have any choice but to follow where Master Rhe led.

For a moment, Ensel Rhe looked about to say something, but he was cut off by a single, distant howl. The noise lasted long enough to cause Aaron's heart to miss a beat, then it faded and was gone. A dog, or wolf. Nothing more than one or the other, Aaron thought, until he saw Master Rhe's stare lingering in the direction of the howl. Like the horn, it came from the direction of Norwynne. Like the horn, its sound was not alone as other howls rose up to pierce the morning, one after the other for a time, until finally their crescendo ended.

Neither of them said anything. They didn't need to. Nor did Aaron need any prompting this time to fall in line, though he did take a moment to cast one last, long look behind them. Of a sudden, dwarves and witches seemed the least of his worries.

7. Promises

THE DWARVES LED THEIR CAPTIVES deep into the Grey Hills to a wooded ravine so secluded Shanna thought it the last place anyone from Norwynne might think to look. Entry was achieved by stepping through a dark-as-pitch maw that was formed only by accident as everywhere else a snarl of vines and tree branches sealed the place up as if it were walled. Inside, perimeter guards manning their posts without the warmth of a fire rose from crouches to greet them. They said nothing as the bound captives were dragged past, deeper into the dark. Shanna thought she heard the sounds of a camp, but she couldn’t see clearly to tell for sure. They were led to a trio of prison wagons, two of which were already full of other captives. The third wagon was empty, but not for long as the dwarves undid their prisoners' bindings and ushered them inside. With that done, all but three of the dwarves left, heading for the center of their secret refuge. The three who remained huddled together, muttering in subdued voices and only occasionally chuckling at some jibe or joke told by another. Hours passed, until dawn's first glimmering just began to cast a pale glamour throughout the hollow. Only then did Shanna see the dozen or so tents at the center of the hideout. Dwarves milled about most of the tents save for one which was the largest of them all and set so far apart one could hardly help noticing the void around it. It was a void, too, a zone of inactivity that dwarves not only avoided, but purposely shied from. Where the other, smaller tents flew various insignia, this one flew nothing: no colored banners, no pennants, no flags. It was sealed tight, too, with no one coming and no one going. Most distinct of all, Shanna saw standing to either side of the sealed flap a pair of guards too tall to be dwarves.

Shanna's inspection was interrupted when, without announcement or ceremony, the guards began unlocking all three of the cages and shouting for the prisoners to come out and form a line. As they did, a light drizzle began to fall. Most of the refugees were dressed in nightclothes paired with an odd assortment of hastily thrown on tunics, pants, gowns, or shirts. Already shivering, the rain's first touch sent a visible shudder across them all. The dwarves paid no attention to this as they went about ordering the formation of the refugees. One of the guards gestured toward the main part of the encampment. Shanna followed the line of his finger, seeing nothing in particular except for a single dwarf, who at this distance looked no different than the others as he strode through the heart of the camp. No retinue followed him. No one jumped out of his way or saluted as he passed. Still, there was purpose in his stride as he made for Shanna and the others. The moment he reached the trio of guards, he addressed the one who had pointed.

"Keln, how went the hunt?"

Right away Shanna saw that this dwarf was indeed different from the others. His clothes—leather breeches and a loose fitting shirt that clung to him from the damp—were cleaner and of a finer cut. Long, blondish-red hair was pulled back straight from his forehead and must have reached halfway to his waist if not further. His beard was braided and neatly groomed, though littered with drops of moisture now. As thick of body as any of the others, surliness ruled the dwarf's narrowed brow and steel-blue eyes. But there was thoughtfulness there, too, especially as he looked past the one named Keln to sweep his gaze across the prisoners.

Keln did not answer right away. Instead, he briefly studied the other. His examination started and ended with the great weapon slung across the other's back. Shanna thought it odd that it should be wrapped from handle to blade in a thick layer of cloth.

"You have it, then?" Keln said, the braids of his beard swaying as he gestured with his chin at the large cloth-wrapped item.

"Yes," the other replied. "I have it and, with it, leadership of the clan."

Again, silence, until Keln said, "Yet, you do not bear it proudly. Why is that, brother?"

"Because," the other said, his voice suddenly a rumbling landslide, "it is an accursed thing and you know it."

Keln weighed the other's words, then he nodded. "Aye, tis a double-bladed weapon in more ways than one, eh?"

"Truly," the other said, his voice calm now. "Pity Kelgin's indulgence with it was brief. I intend my time with it to be longer. When we return home, Soljilnor will unite the clans. With it in my possession, I will claim leadership."

"And if that leadership is challenged?"

"Let any dwarf do so and he'll soon find himself basking in the fires of hell."

At that, Keln laughed, long and hard. Then he shouted into the morning. "All hail! Engus Rul, Clan-lord of Fire Rock!" The rain and gloom swallowed his words. No one answered. Quieter, he said, "Better you than some others, eh?" Not waiting for an answer, Keln turned and swept a hand down the length of their prisoners. "We found these outside the city. More remain. Like rabbits chased from their holes. We'll find them. All of them," Keln said, adding, "if that is what you wish."

Engus Rul didn't move, but Shanna saw his eyes examining them, one after the other. When Shanna's turn came, she made herself meet his gaze. Meet it and hold it. Such a feat was not without effort. A feverish cold swept up and down her spine and she felt her knees go weak. She clenched her fists though, determined that the dwarf would not see her fear. The dwarf's expression never changed, nor did his eyes leave hers right away. In them, Shanna saw strength, resolve. These things she expected. But there was something else. Sadness. No, not sadness. Pity. Perhaps even remorse. It left her confused as the dwarf's gaze moved past her.

His inspection complete, Engus Rul said, "No, there are enough."

Keln nodded. "Best we get this business over quickly, eh? If you want, I'll see it’s done. No need for you to stay—"

"I'll stay."

The words stamped a finality on their conversation as silence ensued. The quiet brought with it a new sense of dread amongst the prisoners as they waited for whatever came next. Frightened and nervous already, many cast wild-eyed stares in the direction of the dwarves and their camp. Their stares lingered the longest on the solitary tent.

Then there was movement. Through the rain, between the two man-sized guards, Shanna saw the solitary tent's flap open. A robed man, his hood drawn over his head, stepped out. The moment he did, the rain lessened. He took one step and then another and it lessened further. By the third the rain had stopped altogether. Two others emerged behind him. A boy and, after a noticeable span, a woman dressed all in white. The two guards waited for the boy to pass before they followed. The woman came last. Together, the ensemble moved toward the dwarves and their captives. It was a slow march. The robed man, who walked with the help of a cane, set the pace, with those behind content to keep their order. Shanna counted every heartbeat hammering in her chest before the group came within speaking distance and finally stopped.

The morning had gone still. Rain dripping from the branches of surrounding trees ceased. The call of morning birds disappeared. The dwarven camp went silent as if suddenly deserted. The man, even hunched, was too tall and lean to be dwarven. He held the attention of everyone assembled. There was little to see, for gray robes covered his gaunt frame from the hood that concealed his face all the way to the soft shoes on his feet. Only the man's hands, both of which were clasped at the top of a whitewood cane, were visible. The backs of them were crisscrossed with a myriad of wrinkles. The fingers were long and bony and, like the man's cane, pure white, with only a hint of pinky flesh. Shanna thought them the hands of Death, for there seemed a pallor of gloom about the whole of him, a feeling that his merest touch might shrivel each of them to pruned husks. He made no threatening move towards them, though. He simply stood there, head tilted downward as if cognizant of nothing but the ground before him. It was the boy who stepped forward.

The scamp—Shanna thought him about her age—was dressed in a red tunic hemmed in gold, dark pantaloons, and a short cape of velvet and ermine trim held at his throat by a broach that sparkled. His hair, pulled tight over his scalp, was held in place by a golden circlet at his forehead. Rings adorned his every finger and at his belt hung a small knife resting in a jeweled sheath. The boy strolled to one end of the prisoners' line where he proceeded to inspect from top to bottom the disheveled, pot-bellied man standing there. He performed this inspection not with his eyes but with something that looked suspiciously to Shanna like one of Aaron's measuring instruments. The boy held the device out, then ran it up and down the man’s body. A look of annoyance flashed across the boy's face at the results. "This one will not do," he said, loud enough that all heard him. He stepped away, gesturing at Engus Rul and the other dwarves.

Engus Rul gave the boy a long, appraising look before he settled on his heels and crossed his arms across his chest. Keln and the others, who'd gathered around their clan lord, followed suit.

The boy's look of annoyance deepened as he stomped a foot. "Come forward!" Far from the commanding tone Shanna thought he meant to convey, the boy's words emerged as a whine that commanded neither respect nor fear. He must have recognized this failing, for his expression only grew more angry as he pointed at the captive he'd singled out. "This one will not do!"

When neither Engus Rul nor his men made any attempt to do whatever it was the boy expected of them, the infuriated lad motioned to the two guardsmen who'd accompanied them from the tent. At first, they made no move to obey either. But then, with a single pasty-handed gesture from the robed man, they came forward. The moment they did, Shanna recoiled from what she saw, for they were not men at all, but sitheri, who walked with the legs of men and wielded weapons with four-fingered hands, but who were snakes in all other regards. Long serpent bodies, marked by alternating rings of gray and brown scales, ended in waving, serpentine tails. Snake faces, wrapped around by their traditional sur-rys, possessed eyes that did not blink and scaly lips from which slipped forked tongues. Their garb—silk vests and matching pantaloons with holes in back to accommodate their tails—were a flamboyant violet and soaked through from their time standing guard outside the solitary tent's entrance. They were armed with curved swords that hung at their waists and a long spear to each of them. Most striking of all were the sashes each wore around one shoulder. Thick and dark, they were woven through with tufts of… hair. Shanna swallowed. Hair, and skin. Scalps.

The sitheri seized the pot-bellied man by either arm. Confused, but unable to resist, the man was dragged down the line, past Shanna, to a grassy swath where he was thrown facedown to the ground. He was just struggling to rise when one of the serpent guards plunged its spear into the man’s back.

Shanna saw it, but did not believe it. It couldn't have... couldn't have...

It had.

The snakeman pulled his spear from the man with the same efficiency with which it had dispatched him. As it rested the butt of the weapon upon the ground, Shanna saw the crimson blood streaking its tip.

In the next moment, chaos erupted amongst the prisoners. Only a handful threatened violence. Many more looked on in outrage, while others simply fell to the ground, whimpering in fear. Without prompting, the dwarves acted, moving in quickly to put down the minor rebellion. It took only a weapon haft to the gut and the threat of bare steel brandished in the air to restore order. Then, with an air of nonchalance about him that made Shanna sick, the boy was moving down the line to the next person. This was a middle-aged woman. He gave her the same inspection as before, running the device up and down her person, though this time he gave a satisfactory look and moved on. The next—a slender woman clad only in a nightgown and ragged slippers—was not so lucky. She was grabbed by the sitheri and, despite her wailing and cries for mercy, dragged to the swath where they'd dispatched the pot-bellied man. They killed her with the same efficiency. The boy continued down the line and another was taken. This one—a man—struggled, but only until one of the snakemen rapped him over the head. They dragged him the rest of the way and dispatched him just like the others. Shanna buried her face in her hands, then moved her palms to her ears, trying to shut out the cries of those chosen for death. One-by-one, the boy performed his inspection. One-by-one, the captives he showed dissatisfaction with died. Then the scuffle of the boy's soft shoes laid flat the grass before her and Shanna knew it was her turn.

She lifted her chin, blinking away tears that clouded her vision, to look the boy full in the face. Immediately, her anger rose. The boy was grinning. Grinning! He was not much taller than she, and so Shanna had little difficulty meeting his stare. She did not like what she saw in his eyes. Greed and... lust, as his gaze left hers to look her up and down. Shanna reacted without thinking, clenching her fingers into a fist that she threw at the boy's face. But her wrists were still tied and the boy too quick, grabbing hold of her arm with unexpected strength. She tried to pull away, but he held her there, continuing to take his fill of her. Finally, he smiled.

"You'll learn your place soon enough."

Then he released her arm and, without even waving his measuring device over her, moved to the next prisoner.

The world ceased to exist for Shanna after that. Her mind, overcome by the sheer brutality of the slayings and the perverted promise lying in the boy's stare, shut down. Others were dragged away and murdered. She knew it was over only when someone at her side nudged her. Like an automaton, she followed the person in front of her into one of the cage wagons. Inside, she quietly took a place in a corner. Others scrunched in beside her. A protest from one of the captives sounded. Shanna almost dismissed it, but there was something familiar in the person's voice. She peered out between the wagon's bars, her mind still drifting through a fog, and saw Corrin. Pig-headed, obnoxious, the one person Shanna had always thought she'd hate until the day she died. The serpent-men had him between them. Despite his anguished cries for help, they dragged him along, back the way they'd come to the lonely tent. Then Shanna remembered someone else.

"Where's Nora?" The question was a whisper no one heard. She asked it again, louder.

"She's dead, girl." The sergeant replied.

Shanna put her chin to her chest and pulled her legs in close. She shut her eyes, clenching her jaw to keep from crying. The tears came anyway.

* * *

Engus Rul thought of only one thing as he watched the last of the prisoners being put back into their cages: Leaving. Not just their current encampment but this scraggy corner of Seacea and the whole of the fiefdom to boot. Leave it all behind and never return. There were riper, easier targets for his raiders. Ones that did not involve deals with the devil, nor the machinations of black sorcery. The Old Gods knew a good number of his brothers would cheer to hear the order. Kelgin, who'd wielded Soljilnor before him and paid the price for it, was dead. He, Engus Rul, was in command now. He almost wished it wasn't so, but Keln had been right. Better him than some others. He'd do right and see this through because, Old Gods be damned, he was a dwarf of his word. Not his word, he reminded himself, but Kelgin's. But the promise made, the bargain that had been struck, was his now. Fire Rock custom dictated that much. Engus Rul pulled at his beard. He'd stay, and his men with him, even if it meant all of their deaths.

"What news of the boy?" The words were an old man's whisper, drifted out from the dark aperture of the robed one's hood.

The man—savant, soothsayer, wizard, no one was really sure what the hell he was—had been a bane on Fire Rock since the day he'd hobbled into their underkeep. Kelgin should have killed him on the spot, for trespassing if nothing else. But the man spoke with a serpent's tongue. Kelgin with his haughty ambitions had been easy prey. A bargain had been struck: the location of Soljilnor, the flaming axe of Fire Rock, lost since the Fall of the Old Gods, in exchange for the dwarves' assistance in retrieving a quartet of relics. Already, they'd helped the savant recover one of his lost toys. In return, the man had fulfilled his part of the deal by delivering Soljilnor. But three of the old man's toys remained lost. Until they were found, the dwarves of Fire Rock were committed to lending their aid. Even if such aid meant hunting down and slaughtering children, which was the worst of the man's requests to date as far as Engus Rul was concerned.

Engus Rul opened his mouth to respond. He closed it when he saw the savant's boy staring at him from his usual place at his master's side. The impetuous look the boy cast at him set Engus Rul seething. Not for the first time, the dwarf imagined his hands wrapped around the whelp's throat. It would only take a moment to squeeze the life from him. The boy must have guessed at Engus Rul's thoughts, for he smirked, as if daring the dwarf to try. Perhaps I will, Engus Rul thought, but not now.

"The boy escaped," Engus Rul said in answer. He found some small satisfaction in his and his men's failure. Kill the boy, Kelgin had ordered. Return with his head as proof. All knew the true source of those instructions. Most would have disregarded them outright if not for the bounty of gold that had been offered.

The savant's shoulders went up and down in a sigh.

"As expected. I suppose it matters little. He is on the run. That is enough."

The savant said no more as he and his boy returned to their tent without further regard for Engus Rul or his dwarves.

As they passed, Engus Rul wanted to ask what was so damn important about a single child, but he held his tongue. The boy was gone and the savant had not requested they go after him. It was just as well to forget about him entirely, though Engus Rul knew some of his dwarves would be sad to see the bounty money go with him. No matter. Once they were finished with this business they'd return to what they did best. Raiding. For Engus Rul, it could not be soon enough.

8. The Summoning

THEY EMERGED FROM THE FOREST into the center of a secluded copse. There were a dozen, all wearing dark robes with hoods drawn. One spoke.

"Erlek has failed," the speaker, a man, said. "The boy lives."

"Yes," said a woman. "He lives. He is on the run, but is protected now."

"Then we must intervene," the first speaker said. "Simone, bring forth the horn."

One of the robed figures stepped forward and with a delicate hand raised an ivory horn that was twisted like a ram's. The bearer of the horn blew into it. Once, twice, and a third time its piercing wail screeched out across the forested hills. As the sound faded, the morning returned to a silence that was complete and absolute. No sound of a breeze sifting through the trees. Nothing from the distant ocean. No sound at all until they heard the first howl. It started like a hound's, but rose in pitch until it became a piercing wail much like the sound the horn had made. It lasted only a few seconds, then quiet returned. Moments later, the howl began anew, but this time it was joined by others. Two howls, three, four, until a cacophony of so many rang out it was impossible to count them. They did not stop, but grew louder and closer.

The first hound materialized through a break in the trees, coming into the clearing on silent paws. It was not alone for long. Others arrived in twos and threes, emerging with slow, silent gaits. Long-legged and thick around with jaws that might snap a man's head off, they were bigger than any normal dog. Black and shadowed, as if their mere presence devoured the light, they kept their distance, but never stopped moving, pacing and glaring at the ones who had summoned them with eyes the color of blood. Where saliva dripped from hanging jowls, the grass sizzled, curled in on itself, and died.

Hounds of the Underland.

But not only the hounds. Their master followed, emerging from a mist that sprang up across the grove. He appeared as a man, tall and well-muscled, with dusky skin and leather trappings that covered him from the waist-down. His chest, shoulders, and arms were bare. On his head he wore a terrible, horned helm, the horns twisted and bent. Despite his closeness, the man's features remained obscured, a smudge of darkness which no light penetrated. Only his eyes—flame red pinpricks—shone through.

"You know who your prey is," the robed man said. "He has only a short lead on you. Bring him to ground quickly. Go now, but mark. Your hounds may feast all they wish on his body, but bring us the head. We would know for certain that he has expired. Any others you find with him are of no consequence. Do what you will with them."

The helm over the dark smudge of a face dipped in acknowledgement. Then, one-by-one, the hounds turned and melted away. Their master waited until the last had gone before he also turned and disappeared into the trees.

"As for Erlek," one of the figures said, "we shall wait and watch his progress. His time will come soon enough."

Like the houndmaster and his pack, the robed ones stepped back and faded until the clearing was as empty as it had been only minutes before.

9. Ursool

AS FAR AS WITCH’S HOUSES went, Aaron was not impressed. Wattle walls, a thatched roof, a small porch, and several windows set at either side of a rickety door gray with age hardly qualified as the most modest of hunter’s lodges let alone the sinister abode of a wicked, child-eating crone. Nevertheless, its aged presence, out here in the middle of nowhere, with those trees closest to it bent away as if in agony, inspired a sense of dread. Aaron half-expected to see the skeletal remains of the witch's meals or victims of some dire spellcraft dangling from the porch's overhang. There was no such thing though, nor anything else to distinguish the place as a witch's lair. With the faintest glow shining from the windows and the curl of wood smoke rising from the stone chimney, the place almost seemed inviting.

Master Rhe mounted the porch first. As he knocked on the door, Aaron moved to stand beside him, to get out of the rain if nothing else. Even with the door closed, he was hit immediately by a pungent mixture of must, something not unlike cow dung, and a flowery fragrance that, unfortunately, was the least of the three. The door creaked open, though no one stood there to greet them. Master Rhe entered without hesitation. Aaron followed, though with caution.

Gloom dominated the single-roomed interior. The only light was a fire glowing within a hearth set at the far wall. Ensel Rhe went to it straightaway. Aaron, however, thinking an initial perusal of the room’s interior the more prudent option, was just beginning to look about when a voice spoke out, startling him.

"Come in, come in," the voice said from a darkened corner. "Come in and warm yourself. No need to be afraid."

Aaron stared at the corner for a moment while the rain made a quiet pitter-patter on the roof. While he did see the outline of a woman there, busy at some task, he could make out none of her features. The voice had not sounded old, nor had there been any cackling. Not so far, at least.

It being rude to stand there and do nothing, especially with an open door behind him, Aaron closed the door tight and then inched into the room. He hadn't quite made it to the fire when the witch stepped from the shadows to join the eslar, who had already removed his wet coat and draped it over the hearth. She had her back to him as she busied herself examining the contents of two pots hanging over the fire. Still, Aaron noted auburn hair that fell in a sheet across a dark wool robe and that she wore nothing on her feet. She did not look particularly threatening so far.

Master Rhe took off his gloves and tossed them before the fire, then he pulled one of two bench seats located at either side of a long table closer, sat, and began removing his muddy boots.

"It would have been nice if you'd taken those off before traipsing mud all over my house, Ensel," said Ursool. Definitely no cackles. Just a smooth, melodious overture that Aaron found surprisingly pleasant.

Ensel Rhe didn't say anything, but once he had his boots off he found a rag and began wiping mud from the wood floor. Aaron glanced over his shoulder and saw in horror his own contribution to the mess. He instantly and instinctively stammered out an apology. Witch or not, he'd been taught proper manners.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to—"

Still busy at her pots, Ursool laughed. It filled the room with a flutter of gaiety as she waved a hand in dismissal. "It's no bother," she said from over one shoulder. "Let Ensel clean up the mess. You, come warm yourself." She returned one of the lids to its respective pot, then finally turned to face him.

If Aaron hadn't already stopped, he would have now, for every tale he’d heard describing witches as stooped-over, gangly old hags, wart-ridden, gray-haired, and sallow-skinned, who hissed, spat, and cackled after every spoken outburst was wrong. Ursool had no bow to her back, her skin was smooth and fresh, and her features, delicate. She smiled, revealing perfect teeth. Eyes, perfectly matched to the color of her auburn hair, shined with vitality and warmth. She was, in a word, beautiful.

Ursool took quiet steps toward him. "Be welcome in my home, Aaron."

Before he could ask how she knew his name, she stepped around him, putting her hands to his shoulders to help remove his sodden cloak. Aaron allowed her, finding the release of its weight instantly comforting. Then he followed her the short distance to the fire where she laid out his garment next to Ensel Rhe’s jacket.

Aaron took a seat upon the bench, holding his feet to the fire directly. He had no shoes to take off and his socks had gone threadbare traipsing through the wilderness. Though the rain had softened the ground, there'd been brambles and thorns. Ursool took one look and shook her head. She went and got an earthenware basin that she filled with hot water from one of the pots. This she put on the floor in front of him.

"When the fire has restored some warmth, place your feet in here. The water will soak deeper than the flames can. In the meantime, can I get you both something hot to drink?" She looked from Aaron to Ensel Rhe who was just finishing clean-up duty. She didn't wait for a reply as she went to the other side of the room. She returned with two wooden cups which she promptly filled with a dark, steaming liquid from a small kettle resting near the fire. She handed one cup to Ensel Rhe, who took it with a slight nod before he sat, and the other to Aaron, who accepted it with a look of suspicion.

Once more, Ursool laughed. It was a soft, brief sound filled with amusement. "You are right to be apprehensive. We do not know each other. But no need to worry, it is only tea. It will warm your bones and chase the chill away."

Aaron sniffed at it. It smelled of berries. Next to him, Master Rhe held the cup to his lips and drank. Aaron did the same. It was strong and tasted much like it smelt. Finding it quite agreeable, Aaron took a longer sip, letting the warmth course through him. Then, delicately, he eased his feet into the hot water. Pain stabbed them, but it was only temporary before the hardships he'd endured began to melt away.

Ursool took a seat opposite them upon one corner of the hearth. Though she said nothing, allowing her visitors time to warm themselves and drink, she began humming a tune. Aaron found his gaze drawn to the woman as she continued to defy his expectations. She was much younger than Aaron had imagined her, perhaps only ten summers older than himself and possessed of a quiet patience that settled Aaron's fears and suffused him with comfort. He couldn't imagine how anyone so lovely could eat children. Then he saw those sparkling eyes returning his stare, studying him in kind. Heat rose in his face. He buried it in his cup, sucking in too much of the hot liquid and, gasping, nearly spilling some onto the floor.

Ensel Rhe cast him a long, unamused stare before he said to Ursool, "We cannot spare much time here. Have you food we can take with us? I suspect we'll have few opportunities for hunting."

The woman nodded. "I have dried boar meat, breetha nuts, and berries. Take all you can carry." She rose. "But you must be hungry now." Retrieving two wooden bowls along with two spoons, she returned to the cauldron set bubbling over the fire. Dipping a ladle in, she filled the first bowl with a thick stew that she handed over to Aaron. Hunger pangs he'd suppressed since entering the house and smelling the cooking food returned with a vengeance.

"Thank you," Aaron said, dipping the spoon into the bowl without hesitation this time, the ache in his stomach overriding any sense of caution. The stew consisted of chunks of meat that tasted of venison along with potatoes and carrots seasoned with herbs. It was delicious.

Ursool handed a bowl to Ensel Rhe who let it rest on his lap for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, then asked, "How much do you already know?"

Ursool stirred her stew while she answered. "The fury of the Elements has been unleashed. That much is plain. But I am uncertain as to who or what has summoned such power."

"There were dwarves—"

"The dwarves had nothing to do with this. Not directly, at least."

Ensel Rhe stared at her a moment longer, then he lifted his bowl and ate. He said nothing more. Aaron, who'd stopped eating only to listen to the brief exchange, now finished his first helping and was just thinking how best to ask for more when Ursool swept his bowl from his hands and re-filled it for him. Then, when he and Master Rhe had both finished eating, Ursool carried the dirty bowls away. By the time she returned, Aaron was just stifling a yawn.

"You've had a long journey, with little rest. Please," she said, gesturing towards the only bed in the house, "take my bed."

"Oh, no, ma'am, the floor will be just—"

"Tsk, tsk." Ursool waved her hand in dismissal. "Just be sure to get out of those wet clothes first. You don’t want to catch a cold."

Aaron stood, only to have Ursool take him by the arm and guide him to the bed. He was surprised his feet, which had groaned at every step a short while ago, made no complaint. He'd only soaked them in hot water, hadn't he?

"You'll find fresh bedclothes and even something for when you wake in the chest there," she said, pointing at a trunk at the foot of the bed. "Shoes, pants, and all the rest. Should be about your size, too."

While Ursool returned to the fire, allowing Aaron some privacy, he dug into the chest and found a nightshirt that looked about right. Quickly undressing, he made sure his laboratory vest with its alchemicals was set aside separately—it wouldn't do to have it mistakenly placed too close to the fire—and pulled the long shirt over his head. Then he lay down and tucked himself beneath the covers. The bed's mattress was no more than straw with a thin sheet thrown over, but it felt like goose feathers to his aching body.

The witch returned, though she said nothing immediately.

"Ma'am?"

"No need for such formality with me. Ursool will do."

"Ursool." The name seemed strange as it rolled off his tongue. "When I first walked in, you called me by my name even though I hadn't given it. I didn't hear Master Rhe say it, either. How do you know who I am?"

Ursool looked thoughtful for a moment, then she took a stool and situated herself next to the bed. "There is an old tale told in these woods of a boy, a sorcerer's apprentice, who will come from a great city laid waste. Though the boy will venture abroad, he will return someday, riding a flaming chariot and righting all wrongs. The tale names this boy Aharon, or Aaron, which means 'mountain of strength' in the old tongue. That is how I knew your name."

Aaron thought for a moment. He'd never heard or read of any such tale, though he had to admit legends and fables were not his usual subjects. Still, a story about him? It was ludicrous. Something in the witch's expression—a half-formed smile—related as much.

"You made that up, didn't you?" Aaron asked.

Ursool confessed. "Yes, yes, I did. It did sound rather nice, though, didn't it?"

Aaron sank into the straw mattress. "I'm not really a sorcerer's apprentice and I don't know any magic." A flaming chariot, indeed. "I'm just—"

Ursool leaned in close, placing a hand on his arm. Even through the blanket there was something about her touch. "You bear the mark of the great Elsanar himself. Did he not select you as his apprentice, above all others? That means something."

"But, he never taught me—I mean, he taught me a lot, but—"

"Aaron," Ursool said, the sudden sound of his name silencing him. "The fact that you are here, that you survived this far, tells me something of who and what you are. Never belittle yourself, or your accomplishments." Ursool lifted her hand from him and rose. "Now, get some sleep. Ensel is a hard taskmaster. No doubt he'll have you up and on your feet long before you'd like."

She gathered his wet things—all but the vest—before leaving, drawing a curtain that allowed him additional privacy while blocking at least some of the light from the fire. Aaron closed his eyes, listening for a moment for any conversation between Master Rhe and Ursool. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it would be hard not to. He still didn't know where he and Master Rhe were going. But there were no words exchanged outside the curtain, and soon, as weariness swept over him, he decided he didn't care right now, anyway. He let the warmth of the blankets and the crackle of the fire take him away.

* * *

The first thing Aaron wanted to do upon waking was roll over and fall right back to sleep. But a nagging suspicion that he'd already slept too long refused to yield despite his best efforts. Ultimately, there was nothing to do but get up. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he threw aside the covers and immediately grasped his arms to his body as a chill swept through him. He let it pass before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and gingerly let his feet touch the floor. Curious that there was no pain, he held up one foot for inspection. Remnants of some paste or unguent remained stuck between his toes, but his foot was otherwise clean and healthy and completely devoid of scratches or cuts. The other was the same. Aaron flexed his toes, not quite believing what his eyes told him, but further examination revealed nothing troublesome. The damage was gone and they felt as if they had never known hardship.

He rose. Teeth chattering, he tossed a blanket over his shoulders and, sliding the curtain aside, found the room empty but for himself. Only embers remained in the fireplace and the cooking pots were silent. There was a small mat set on the floor. It took one step beyond it before the iciness of the wooden floorboards sent a shock through him. Without thinking, he leapt back to the relative warmth of the mat and immediately glanced about for something to put on his feet. On top of the chest was a neat bundle of clothing: pants, a gray shirt, a pair of shoes that looked about his size and at least two pair of socks—one for now and another for the road. His laboratory vest was there too, its alchemicals safe and sound by the look of it. Still, once he’d dressed, he took a moment to take stock of the vials, something he should have done before he'd gone to sleep. Everything looked in order. Then it was a matter of gathering up his now dry cloak from the hearth and setting out to find where everyone had gone.

Master Rhe was outside sitting on the porch. There was no sign of Ursool. Without asking if he minded the company, Aaron took a seat on the one and only step next to him. Though the rain had stopped, a cold breeze had replaced it. The glow of the moon, low and just rising, penetrated the gloomy sky. He thought he'd slept at least five hours, maybe six. Longer than he thought he would have been permitted.

"Are you rested?" Master Rhe asked without tearing his gaze from the surrounding woods.

"Not really," Aaron said. "I could have done with another day or two of sleep."

Aaron's attempt at humor was lost on the eslar.

"How are your feet?"

"Much better. Did Ursool—"

"Yes."

Aaron scanned the trees. "Where did she go?"

"She left just before the rain stopped. Something about gathering herbs before the moon rose. She should return shortly. The clothes, do they fit?"

Aaron made a show of inspecting his shirt and pants. "Yes, well enough." Then he lifted one foot and set it back down. "The shoes are a little big, but I'll manage." When the eslar said nothing in response to that, Aaron drew his legs close and wrapped his arms around them. "Master Rhe? May I ask something?"

Ensel Rhe looked his way, waiting.

"How is it that Ursool had these things? The clothes, I mean. By all appearances, she lives alone and has no children. So why would she have clothes so close to my size?"

Aaron expected a terse answer, either denying knowledge or, worse, an explanation of a truth he feared. That Ursool was, in fact, the monster he had suspected all along.

"Perhaps she knew you were coming. She is a witch, after all. She ventures out, sometimes, to trade and hear news of the outside world. She probably gathered the items then. Either that, or," Ensel said, casting Aaron a sidelong glance, "perhaps the clothes are leftover from some boy she ate."

Aaron didn't believe it. "Ursool has been nothing but kind. Besides, she looks nothing like a witch. She is…" He struggled for the right word.

"Beautiful?" Ensel Rhe said.

Aaron nodded.

Ensel Rhe returned his gaze to the forest. "You see what Ursool wants you to see."

"What do you mean? Why?"

"Because that is her way. Because her true appearance is… frightening."

Aaron took a moment to absorb the silence of the woods before he said, "She must be lonely."

"She is," Ensel said, too quickly. "She is alone, all of the time. She keeps herself occupied during the day. But the nights, they are harder. She makes use of herbs—sleeping agents—to help pass the time. Such loneliness is consuming."

Something told Aaron he no longer spoke of just the witch, but he kept his peace and did not press him. Instead he ached to inquire about their destination, but just when he'd raised the courage to break the silence again and ask, Ursool emerged from the woods. She held an oil lantern in one hand and a sack in the other. Light from the lantern shone across her and, for just a moment, Aaron thought he saw a figure hunched and limping horribly. But the sight quickly faded and, as she drew nearer, Aaron saw only the young and fair Ursool he'd come to know. Ensel Rhe stood at her approach, confirming what Aaron already suspected.

"We're leaving now, aren't we?" he asked.

Ensel Rhe looked down at him, for once not entirely without sympathy. "Yes."

"Can you at least tell me where we're going?"

The eslar's stare returned to the approaching witch. "Still east, for now. We'll keep to the hills until we reach the Narrow Cliffs. Then, south across the Upper Shelf to Wildemoore."

Wildemoore? "Ansanom's manor?"

Ensel Rhe didn't answer. There was no need, for Aaron had heard him well enough. Ansanom was an associate of Master Elsanar's, a collaborator in their research, and a sorcerer in his own right. But why were they going there?

Before Aaron could ask, Ensel Rhe said, "I know you have many questions. There are, perhaps, some things I might tell you."

He paused, leaving Aaron to think he meant to say nothing more. This was, after all, the longest conversation they'd had to date. But then Ensel Rhe continued.

"Some of it you may already know. I will do my best to answer what questions you have, but only once we are underway." He looked at Aaron then, waiting for his acceptance. Aaron nodded. What else could he do?

Master Rhe took the oil lantern from Ursool as she approached. Together, they went inside. Aaron followed. He managed to thank her for applying the unguent to his feet before Ensel Rhe took charge, busying them with preparations for his and Aaron's journey. Aaron was gifted with his own pack this time. Into it Ensel Rhe stuffed Ursool's promised provisions along with extra blankets, a few small pots for cooking, wooden cutlery, and a pouch of flint and tinder. Aaron was also given his own waterskin which he kept slung over one shoulder. It took them no time to prepare everything and soon all three were outside again.

"Thank you, Ursool," Aaron said. "I hope we meet again someday."

The corners of the woman's mouth turned up at his words. Then, with seriousness, she said, "You have a long, dangerous journey ahead of you, Aaron. Does thought of it frighten you?"

Aaron narrowed his brow at the question, but when he spoke, he did so truthfully. "Yes."

Ursool nodded. "We all know fear, Aaron. Even Ensel Rhe, though he'll never admit to it. Always remember that it is how we respond to that fear that is most important of all. Some drown in it. Others draw courage from it. Which will you do, I wonder?" She did not wait for an answer. "Take this." She moved closer. Held in her fingers was a leather string. At the end of the string was a canine tooth larger than Aaron's index finger. Aaron instinctively lowered his head as she placed the string about his neck. "Guard well this middling charm, Aaron. Never let it leave your person, for it may very well be the difference between life and death."

Aaron lifted the tooth from his chest. It was bigger than any tooth he'd ever seen and stained red. Not all of it, but there was a distinctive streak across its length. The color was dark, like blood. Briefly, Aaron ran a thumb across it. The color did not wipe away. He let it fall to his chest, remembering the other charm he once had. He told Ursool about it.

"This carving," she said, "what was its shape?"

"A soldier. The man I bought it from told me it would protect me. It did. I mean, if it had any powers at all. I know the woodcarver was just telling me that so I would buy the carving, but I wanted to believe him." Aaron fixed Ursool with a stare. "I want to believe you."

The witch smiled. "Perhaps this woodcarver knew something that you did not. Tell me, what did you do with his charm?"

"I threw it away."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I think perhaps it is still with you."

"No, it's not. I mean, I know I threw it—" Aaron followed the line of her gaze to Ensel Rhe.

She smiled one last time, then she turned and was gone, disappeared inside her house, all before Aaron could utter another word.

Ensel Rhe was already walking away, forcing Aaron to run to catch up. As the trees thickened around them, Aaron glanced over his shoulder to take in Ursool's home one last time. He saw only a faint light shining from a window. Then, as they moved further from the house, the light faded and, finally, was swallowed by the night's darkness.

10. A Change of Fortune

ONE OF THE SITHERI CAME for Shanna an hour after sunset. There were protests, from the sergeant and some others, but once Shanna saw the lone snakeman framed in the open cage doorway, one scaly, claw-tipped finger pointing at her, she pushed past those trying to protect her and went quietly. She was led to the lonely tent where the other sitheri guard stood watch outside. At Shanna's approach, the tent's flap was lifted. She hesitated a moment, then entered. Neither of the guards followed her in as the flap was sealed behind her. Golden glow-globes greeted her, the fiery spheres, one at each corner of the room, providing light but no heat. Even still, it was warmer than outside just for the presence of the walls that kept the biting chill of the wind at bay. Shanna would have liked to have taken a moment to soak in the warmth if not for the boy staring at her with hunger in his eyes.

He was dressed as before, in red tunic and pantaloons, except that now he also wore a king's robe, long and plush and trimmed in white fur that cascaded from his shoulders to pile at his feet. At his belt was a jeweled knife. He stood next to a gilded, darkwood chair that was occupied by the boney-handed man with the cane. The man was covered in the same simple gray robes, though this time Shanna spied the tip of a pointed nose and cheeks the color of milky paste within the cowl.

The boy came forward. He didn't say a word. The same smirk he'd worn earlier and the lust in his eyes said enough. Shanna backed up against the tent's flap, finding it as unyielding as a solid door. Then the boy took a quick step and grabbed hold of her arm. There were two interior, curtained doorways. Despite Shanna's best efforts to stop him, he dragged her toward the leftmost one. Desperate, Shanna looked at the man, slouched in his chair, but he showed no interest at all in the happenings before him. There was no one here to help her, no one except…

"W-Where's Corrin?"

The boy stopped. His gaze turned to the robed man. Nothing at first, but then one arm lifted and a boney finger pointed at the opposite entry. The boy released her and folded his arms across his chest. He gestured with his chin, prompting her with the glint in his eye, almost daring her to investigate.

She did, casting more than one glance at her captors before she drew aside the velvety curtain and slipped inside. The room within was only partially lit by a single glow-globe. Its contents unfolded as she followed a narrow lane created by two long tables stacked high with an odd assortment of glass vials, stoppered beakers, flasks, metal crucibles, bone cupels, and a set of scales, one larger than the other. Tubules straight and spiraled formed a network amongst the containment vessels. Some hung suspended over oil-fueled burners that, right now, were unlit. Shanna eyed the paraphernalia with suspicion and wonder, then she lost interest, for just beyond the pair of tables was Corrin.

She drew closer, gasping. Strapped to an operating table set near vertical, he was stripped to the waist with arms tied above his head and his legs spread apart. A single broad strap lay across his chest. Even at a distance, in the half-light created by the single glow-globe, Corrin looked… diminished. Drained was more like it, Shanna thought, as she eyed the tubules running from various parts of his body to just below his feet where they connected to some sort of manifold. There was a single outlet tube coming out of the device. Whatever vessel had been there was gone now. Trembling, Shanna saw that though Corrin's eyes were closed, he still drew shallow, barely perceivable breaths. She traced the path of the tubules from the device at Corrin's feet on up. There were so many, all inserted directly into him at his wrists, neck, between his ribs, and just below his ankles. They'd had no consideration for his clubfoot, the misshapen appendage having been stuck as neatly as the good one. Shanna took hold of one of the tubules between a thumb and forefinger and gave it a gentle tug. Fluids that had dried formed a sort of seal, but, once that seal was broken, it slid out easily enough. She removed them all, one after the other, pausing only once to wipe tears from her eyes. Corrin's only response was to moan as each tube left his body. Then she undid the straps. She undid his wrists and ankles first, then fumbled at the single strap across his chest. Once unclasped, Corrin's body slumped forward. She caught him as best she could. His diminished weight was still too much for her as they tumbled to the ground together. Corrin stirred at the rough treatment. His eyelids fluttered and a moan escaped his lips as Shanna untangled herself enough to lay him flat. She kept his head resting in her lap as she ran a hand across his ashen cheek. They'd done more than just drain him. They'd killed him.

Corrin's eyelids fluttered open. There was a moment of uncertainty, a moment in which Shanna must have looked unfamiliar to him, but then he smiled and half-croaked, half-whispered her name. Shanna scanned the room for some water. When she looked back at him, he was gone.

Shanna stared into his vacant eyes for a moment, then she lifted his head from her lap and lay it gently on the ground. She tried to reach out and close his eyes, but her trembling hand went to her mouth instead to muffle any noise she might make. The shaking threatened to seize her entire body, but she pushed it away and somehow managed to stand. She exited the room without thinking.

The robed man and his boy were waiting to greet her. The former remained slumped in his chair. The boy, his grin grown wider, stood at his master's side. Shanna made straight for him, stopping only when they stood face-to-face. The boy looked at her appraisingly for one second. It was all the time Shanna allowed him as she took hold of the hilt of the boy’s knife, drew it, and plunged it into his chest. The boy's look of amusement and delight became one of surprise and horror. Shanna withdrew the bloodied blade and, as the boy clutched at his chest and slipped to the ground, she sprang on his robed master with a snarl.

The man reacted with such quickness Shanna barely had cocked her arm to strike when he sprang from his chair, took hold of her, and bodily flung her away. She hit the ground with enough force that the knife was knocked from her grasp and sent skittering across the canvas floor. Expecting the man to be on her any moment, Shanna raised her arms in desperation. But there was no further assault. The man's attention was fixed solely on his boy. He just stood there, looking down upon his—student? apprentice? son? Surely not the last, Shanna thought—even as a growing patch of red, darker than the boy's tunic, spread further and further out from his body. The man did not kneel to cradle the boy in his arms, nor did he crouch and attempt to offer solace, for the boy was most obviously about to die. Still, Shanna suspected agitation in the hurried rise and fall of the man's chest. She knew it for certain when he emitted the most unholy howl of rage she'd ever heard. Thinking it best she flee, Shanna tried to get up. She made it halfway to her knees when she was hit from behind and knocked down. Then she felt the point-end of a spear pressed against her. She did not move an inch further.

"What have you done?" The savant screamed.

Shanna heard heavy footfalls approach. Then the spear tip released her and she was lifted from the floor. Not by the sitheri, though. By the savant. Maniacal eyes bulging with fury and a mouth twisted into a vicious snarl were the only features she saw as the savant squeezed her shoulders and shook her so hard she cried out. He put his face right up to hers, screaming at her with a full intake of breath. "What—have—you—done?" He threw her to the ground. Shanna had only a moment to see him grab the spear from his sitheri, then its tip was full in her face. But it did not pierce her. The savant's chest heaved in air. One breath, then two. Still, the spear remained steady. A third. After a fourth and a fifth, the man's face settled until only his labored breathing revealed his ire. His stare—his focus—was no longer on her. It was on something behind her. Not wishing to draw attention to herself, Shanna remained still, though she started when she heard a soft hum emanating behind her. More than that, now that the chaos had diminished, she felt something tugging at her senses.

The robed man removed the point of the spear from her and handed the weapon to his guard.

"Return her to her cage."

The sitheri responded instantly, lifting and dragging her from the tent. Before she'd exited she stole a single glance at the thing which had distracted the savant's attention: a pedestal or table, with a spherical bulge at its top, the whole of the thing covered in black velvet. Then she was forced outside.

Locked up once more, she settled into a corner and said nothing to the others about what had happened or what she'd seen. Corrin, the boy she'd slain, and even the fact that she'd barely, and inexplicably, escaped death at the hands of the savant was forgotten. Neither the cold nor the wind bothered her now. Her mind focused only on the hum of the thing concealed, the way it had somehow, in some way, reached out to her and, at the very end, just before the snakeman had dragged her away, the feeling—the rush—that had threatened to overwhelm her. She'd no idea what lie beneath that covering, but she swore she was going to find out.

* * *

More than half the prisoners disappeared before the next day's dawning. Taken one-by-one by the sitheri guards, they were dragged into the savant's tent where evidence of their treatment was demonstrated only by the corpses carried out. Some fought back when they were taken, but weaponless and weary, none were a match for the snakemen. By mid-morning, when the sitheri finally came no more, only six prisoners remained: Shanna, who remained huddled in one corner of the cage the entirety of the time; Sergeant Roe Tippin, mostly recovered from his abuse at the hands of the dwarves; a man who kept a protective arm around a woman named Nala, whose name Shanna knew only because her companion kept whispering it over and over; a boy Shanna's age which she at some point finally recognized as Rail, a sometime friend; and dark-skinned Jadjin the healer. As bone-weary as the rest of them, Jadjin still found the strength to visit with each of them, encouraging spirits with soothing whispers or bolstering courage with a reassuring smile. She was just smoothing Shanna's hair, who reacted not at all to the woman's ministrations, when the sitheri reappeared, ready to claim another victim. This time, they'd come for Shanna.

Immediately, Jadjin circled an arm around her. "No! She's just a child!"

The sitheri did not care.

Not wanting anyone else to get hurt, Shanna unwrapped herself from the woman's grasp and exited the cage. Though the sitheri took up positions to either side of her, this time neither of them touched her. Stranger still, as they led her through the mid-morning fog, they steered her away from their master's tent, through the main encampment where the smell of food cooking set Shanna's mouth-watering and to a scene where dwarven teamsters busied themselves harnessing teams of oxen to a varied ensemble of wagons and carts. The sitheri gave Shanna no time to perform more than a cursory examination as they led her past those first few vehicles to the rear of a wagon covered by a garish patchwork of blue, red, and green. The wagon looked like it belonged in a circus. One of the guards motioned Shanna up the short ladder lending entry to the wagon. Whatever was inside was blocked by a wall of drapery. Shanna hesitated. When the sitheri offered nothing but another gesture for her to enter the wagon, she mounted the ladder, pushed the drapery aside, and stepped inside.

The wagon's interior was a simple but elegant arrangement. Short candles set upon a small, round table revealed a cherry wood chair, a cushioned bench built into one side of the wagon draped with pillows, and a short stack of drawers that rose up from the far end of the bench. Several changes of boy's clothing hung inside a narrow cabinet. A plush rug covered most of the floor. The whole of the place smelled of the boy she'd killed. Behind her, the swish of drapery caused her to spin around, but it was only her escort drawing the curtain closed. She was alone. Surprised, yet uncertain of her surroundings and this new predicament she found herself in, Shanna took the opportunity to search the place more thoroughly. She found an unlocked chest containing more clothing and several pairs of garish shoes—nothing she'd ever wear—along with a small vanity filled with a small collection of perfumes that made Shanna's eyes water when she ran them under her nose. Last, she found a narrow bed that swung down for sleeping but was presently folded against the wall opposite the door.

"I trust you find the arrangements suitable?"

Shanna nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the savant's voice. She turned to see the drapery just being swept aside and the robed man mounting the steps. As he entered, Shanna saw that he wore the same gray robes, except that now the hood was drawn back, allowing Shanna her first real look at him. Bald but for a few gray wisps of hair, the man's face was long and narrow, with a pointed nose and even pointier chin. Pale, but not nearly so white as the hands she'd spied at their first encounter, the skin of his face nevertheless reeked of age, with pits and wrinkles aplenty. Gone entirely was the man's hunch as he swept past her to take the wagon's only chair. One thin leg crossed the other and long-fingered hands tinged with the barest trace of color were folded at one boney knee. Steel gray eyes beneath bushy brows locked with hers. The man smiled, revealing teeth so perfect Shanna knew they were fake.

"I do apologize for the room's sparseness," he said, his tone pleasant, "but it is of necessity. I have tried, however, to accommodate certain needs."

Shanna ignored the man's congeniality. "Who are you and why am I here?"

He smiled again, then lowered his gaze to the floor, sweeping a boney hand across his balding head before he lifted his face to answer. "My name is Erlek Abn Nee. As to the latter, I must first ask a question of you: What do you know of your lineage?"

The question gave Shanna pause, but only for a moment. "Why do you care?"

The savant laughed this time, a small display of mirth that quickly subsided.

Shanna crossed her arms. "I have no idea who my parents were."

"Really? An orphan, then," Erlek said. He settled himself, folding his hands at his lap.

Outside, Shanna heard muffled shouts: orders to start breaking camp.

"Tell me, then," the man said, drawing Shanna's attention back to him, "what do you know of Norwynne's sorcerer, the one called Elsanar."

"Master Elsanar? I don't know anything about him."

"You were not one of his apprentices?"

"Me? An apprentice?"

"Then perhaps an assistant of his?"

Shanna looked at the man with a blank stare.

The savant, for his part, turned silent, as if he were baffled by her answers and needed time to sort through them. When next he spoke his words were only his thoughts formed aloud and not addressed to her at all. "Could there have been two? Not entirely impossible. But why keep them so close to one another? Why not, just in case? Perhaps…" He stopped and smiled. "Yes." He took some moments to bathe in the pleasure of a revelation before speaking to Shanna once more. "There was a boy, one whom Elsanar kept close. An apprentice of his. What do you know of him?"

Both a chill and a sinking in her stomach assailed Shanna simultaneously as she realized the savant was talking about Aaron. "I don't know who you're talking about." She thought she sounded convincing. She hoped she did. "I work in the kitchens. I mean, I did, but…" Her words trailed off, something Erlek did not miss as the man raised a brow. Shanna took a deep breath. She had to remain convincing. She'd be damned if she was going to feel ashamed before this man. "But now I'm—I was—apprenticed to a soapmaker, a master soapmaker." As if that made a difference. "I was learning to…" She hated thinking about it, let alone talking about it. "Make soap." Saying it out loud let loose something within her as patience fled from her in a landslide. "What do you want? Why are you asking me all of these questions? Tell me why I'm here." She wanted to stomp a foot, but thought the gesture might take things too far. She'd seen what this man had done to Corrin.

"Oh, as to why you are here. Let us say it is because I am indebted to you."

Shanna narrowed her gaze. "What do you mean?"

Just then the curtain at the wagon's entry was pulled to one side to reveal a woman dressed in white holding a bowl of water and fresh linens draped over one arm.

"Ah, here is Mirna," Erlek said.

Shanna recognized the woman who had stood behind both Erlek and his boy as they'd inspected the line of prisoners. Mirna did not mount the steps, but stood half-framed in the entryway, her head bowed. With a gesture, Erlek motioned her into the wagon. The woman was dressed in a simple gown, tied at the waist with a strip of leather. Short half-sleeves left her forearms exposed and her feet peeked out of open-toed sandals. She placed the basin down on the small circular table, then went to draw the curtain so that the three of them were separated from the camp.

Mirna moved to stand before Shanna, her gaze remaining on the floor. "Clean water to cleanse your wounds, milady."

One of Shanna's hands went to her chin where she'd cut herself falling from the cliff face after she'd escaped the Underkeep. There were other scrapes and bruises, too, but they’d seemed the least of her worries. She looked at the fresh water with hungry eyes, for every inch of her felt laden with filth. She knew she stank something awful as well. There was a sponge floating at the surface of the water. As Shanna reached for it, Mirna stopped her.

"Please, milady, sit." She gestured at the settee.

Shanna, not truly understanding what the woman meant, did as requested. Erlek remained seated in the chair, his stare fixed on her but with a faraway expression. Mirna knelt, then sprinkled something aromatic into the water. She dipped the sponge and brought it to Shanna's face. Bliss overcame Shanna the moment it touched her forehead as the fragrance of lilacs permeated her senses. Mirna was gentle as she moved on to Shanna's cheeks and to the cut on her chin. Meanwhile, Erlek spoke.

"I'm afraid a hot bath is quite beyond our current means, but Mirna will shortly bring more water for washing as well as food as I am sure you are hungry. Also, you will find fresh clothes in the armoire. Feel free to help yourself to anything you find. This room and all its contents are now yours."

Shanna started, jerking her face from Mirna's attentions to glance full at Erlek. "What do you mean, all of this is mine?" The fear that had been nagging her finally spoke. "You killed all those people. I thought when your guards came for me that I was going to die, too. Especially since I killed—"

"Yes," Erlek said without hesitation. "You killed Tool. I was angry at the time, but I have since recognized it for the boon that it is. You see, Tool was a particularly nasty boy. All sorts of odd and, shall we say, cruel fetishes. I'm afraid I remained hesitant to take the proper disciplinary action with him largely due to personal impediments. You, however, have solved that issue for me quite nicely. It is for this reason that I am in your debt."

Shanna stared at the savant a moment longer before she returned her face to Mirna. The moment she had, Erlek rose.

"Now, I must leave you. We have a rendezvous to make and—"

"Where are we going?" Shanna blurted out, looking past Mirna.

"Oh, not far. I've arranged a rendezvous with a dirigible. From there… well, we can discuss those particulars later."

"A diri-what? What's that?"

Erlek smiled, revealing the ivory of his false teeth. "A means of transportation. More than that, a wondrous machine which you will simply have to see for yourself to understand. But for now, Mirna is yours. Should you desire anything, command her and it shall be done."

With that, Erlek turned and was just opening the curtain to leave when Shanna rose and said, "After I killed him, killed Tool, something happened. There was something… I don’t know what it was, but it…"

Erlek folded his hands before him. "Yes?"

"It hummed. I'm sure of it."

"Yes," Erlek said. "Yes, it did. Is that all?"

No, it wasn't. There'd been something else, but it had been so fleeting she wasn't even sure it had been real. "I felt an odd sensation. I can't describe it." Shanna lowered her gaze from that steel-gray stare that hadn't left hers since she'd broached the subject. Her voice went soft. "What is it?" She did not expect an answer. Rather, an outright dismissal or at best a round of laughter for her to dare such presumption. But she asked it anyway. She fought to hide her surprise when Erlek answered directly.

"The device is called an Element. It is the power that flooded—destroyed, I dare say—your home."

Shanna wondered at the subtle reminder of how she'd arrived here. She especially did not like the word 'destroyed'. She'd not seen the full extent of the damage caused by the quake and flooding, having been underground most of the time, then out cold the rest. There had to have been damage, she knew that. But she'd no idea how much. She could ask. She almost did. But, right now, she had a mind for only one thing. "Can I see it?"

Erlek's lips curled into a smile. "Yes, of course. But, for now, cleanse yourself and take refreshment. We depart for our rendezvous within the hour. I shall send for you after we are underway. Then, we shall talk some more." He half-turned to leave, but then stopped as he looked at her almost apologetically. "Though I feel as if we have come to an understanding, please do not think of escape. My sitheri shall be close. While they have been instructed not to kill you, I'm afraid that, in their desire to serve me, they are sometimes overzealous. I do not desire you to come to harm. Let us also say that, as a sign of good faith, that as long as you remain cordial to my wishes, none of the remaining prisoners shall be harmed."

He left without another word.

Mirna spent only a few more moments seeing to Shanna's cut. Then the woman rose, bending at the waist as she said, "I shall return shortly, milady. The cut is not deep and should heal well with a salve. I will also bring more fresh water and breakfast." She made her way to the exit, not turning her back to Shanna until the very last moment. Then she was gone as well. She drew the curtain securely behind her, leaving Shanna alone.

Shanna lowered herself across the length of the settee. The sofa was just long enough to accommodate her, its cushioned surface a far cry from the hard floor of the cage she'd spent the better part of the night huddled in. She stared up at the inside of the garishly patterned canopy with its supporting hoops, thinking on what Erlek had said. In particular, she thought of the Element and the sensation it had caused. For a long time, she thought of nothing else.

Witch's Interlude I

"HE SLEEPS."

Ursool shuffled away from the curtain separating Aaron from the remainder of her house. Quietly, she sat next to Ensel Rhe who remained seated on the bench close to the fire.

"He is about Hannu’s age, don’t you think?"

Milk-white eyes did not waver from the flames. "Hannu was much younger."

"If he still lived, I meant."

Silence.

"Perhaps."

Ursool crossed her arms. "Does Aaron know where you are taking him?"

"He knows enough."

"Does he, now? Tell me, what did you tell him?"

"Why? Does your witchcraft suddenly fail you?"

Ursool smiled. "I wish to hear it from your lips."

"I have told him nothing."

"Nothing at all? But you will tell him, won't you? Before you get there, I mean."

"What is the difference whether I tell him before or if he finds out once we are there? Either way, we are going."

Ursool sighed. "It might do him some good to hear it beforehand. He is just a child. He has lost his home. His friends. It would not kill you to give him some support, would it? What if he were Hannu—"

"He is not Hannu."

"But he is still a child."

Ensel Rhe did not argue that point.

"It would do him good to hear truth."

"I have not lied to him."

"Perhaps not, but sometimes the omission of information is no better. The truth—"

"Since when is a witch so concerned with truth?" Ensel Rhe shifted. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "What should I have told him? That Elsanar had not the foresight to safeguard his life? That had I not come looking for him at my own initiative he'd have been split in two by a dwarven axe? Sometimes it is better not knowing the truth, I think."

The crackle of the fire became the only noise between them for a few moments. Then, Ursool asked, "So why do you do it then? Why do you bring Aaron to Wildemoore?"

"Because there is safety there. Because Ansanom will take care of him."

"Really? Safety? I have my suspicions and, I think, so do you."

"Suspicions are just that. Ansanom has done nothing untoward. If not for his warnings, Aaron might already be dead."

"I wonder at that."

"Why? What does your witchcraft tell you? If you know something, then out with—"

"It is not craft, but common sense which warns me of that man. Something is not right about him. It is a wonder you, with all of your senses, do not see it. I fear that should you enter that place, you may never leave."

The fire crackled as Ensel Rhe leaned against the table. "I am not blind to the possibilities. But our current choices are limited. I said nothing to the boy, but we are being followed."

"Yes, I know."

The eslar sat up. "What do you know?"

"Very little. Howls in the night. Shadowed beings. Difficult to say beyond that. Perhaps, come morning, or sooner, I will know more. Until then, find a place to lay. Get some sleep."

"Perhaps in a while." Ensel Rhe crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably for a moment. Finally, he said, "For now, it is good to have your company."

Ursool, a smile creasing her lips, said nothing, but took to humming a soothing melody. After a while, Ensel Rhe propped crossed legs upon the hearth's edge. Neither said another word right away.

11. Houndmaster

MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE, AARON wanted answers. His home had been attacked. His folk slain. He'd been driven away, forced to flee or die. It was both frustrating and irritating, that someone should take such drastic measures and he not know even the smallest thing about any of it. Yet, now, there existed a small glimmer of hope. Small because it relied upon the taciturn eslar who, at best, had proven as communicative as a slug. Though he'd made no promises, Master Rhe had said he would share what he knew. But leagues had gone by and still he hadn't said a thing. Aaron remained patient, at first. The eslar probably only needed some time to organize his thoughts. Such reasoning lasted for a little while, but not long. Tired of waiting, Aaron decided to take the initiative himself and ask what he knew. But every time he opened his mouth, Master Rhe would abruptly turn around, tell Aaron to stay put, then disappear into the forest the way they'd just come. Aaron had no idea what he was doing. Looking for pursuing dwarves or—Aaron remembered the horn and wondered again about the tooth Ursool had given him—something else entirely. Master Rhe explained nothing, forcing Aaron to add yet another question to the growing pile.

Finally, though, as Ensel Rhe returned from one of his scouting missions and fell into his usual lead position, he asked, "What do you know of the Five Elements?"

That he'd spoken at all took Aaron by surprise. The question, or rather its content, caused him to narrow his brow and, unsure if Master Rhe was making sport of him, hesitate before he answered. Even then, the words left his mouth slowly. "There are only four elements. Fire, Earth, Water, and Air." He waited, but the eslar did not contradict him. "Unless you count the quasi-elements, but those are only combinations of the others: mud, from Earth and Water; ice, from Water and Air; magma, from Earth and Fire; and so on. But, as far as true elements go, there are only the four."

Ensel Rhe shrugged. "Four, five… it seems neither here nor there to me, especially since Elsanar never told me what he had discovered on the subject. Perhaps he shared the information with others of his coterie. In the time he was researching it, I suspect he must have. Surely he said something to you about it?"

No, he had not, Aaron thought. He was about to say so when Ensel Rhe started speaking again.

"The one person I do know that he shared his findings with was Ansanom."

It was the second time Master Rhe had mentioned the man. Aaron had never met him, nor did he know much about him other than that he was a brilliant cognitive who, for reasons unknown, chose to live in solitude. His home, Wildemoore Manor, wasn't on any maps, nor was its location detailed in any journal or scroll Aaron had ever seen. But Aaron's master had come to know him somehow and the two had regularly exchanged correspondence as well as collaborated on more than a project or two. Oftentimes, Aaron was given the task of dissecting his letters. It was a privilege, for Ansanom was a well of knowledge. His ability to apply his thought processes to theoretical and practical problems was startling. For Aaron, it was a guaranteed learning experience every time he read one of his letters. But if Elsanar had exchanged information about the elements—four or five or a hundred—with Ansanom, then Aaron knew nothing of it. Elsanar had been the master, though, and Aaron the apprentice, and therefore not privy to every avenue his master might explore nor to every missive that crossed his desk.

"No wonder that Elsanar wrote to him about it," Ensel Rhe said, "for it was Ansanom who started all of this when he warned us about the first assassin."

Aaron stumbled. "The first assassin?"

"Yes. All told, there were three. You and your friend, the girl, met the third at the top of Graggly's Tower."

Three assassins? Memories returned as an accompanying shiver coursed through him. He'd been saved from the one he and Shanna had faced only because of Shanna's diversion and Master Rion's spellcasting.

But if there'd been three, what had happened to the other two?

Unbidden, Ensel Rhe supplied the answer. "I killed the other two before they could reach you. I regret the third was able to get so close. It was your good fortune that others were there to stop him. Perhaps your master should have warned you. I advised him to. But he did not feel comfortable laying such a burden upon you."

Aaron undid the clasp on his waterskin and took a long pull. If he wasn't sick of being wet he might have splashed some onto his face. Anything to stop the churning in his stomach. "But… why? Why does anyone want to kill me?"

Ensel Rhe came to an abrupt halt. Aaron stumbled to a stop behind him. The eslar turned and said, "Elsanar believed that whoever hired the assassins wanted to disrupt his research. It seemed the easiest way to do that was to eliminate you."

"But…" Aaron began, narrowing his brow. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because my contributions were not that important. I mean, they were, but Master Elsanar could have carried on without me. It was his life's work. No one knew it better. Without my help his progress might have been slowed, but still he—"

"This was the best conclusion Elsanar could come up with. We considered other alternatives, including the possibility that Ansanom himself hired the assassins, or at least had something to do with it. Living so isolated as he does, how else could he have known about that first one? But, on the other hand, why try to disrupt research that he himself was contributing to? Ansanom had nothing to gain."

"Then who did?"

"I am getting to that."

Ensel Rhe took up their march again. Aaron followed closely, eager to hear more. It seemed some of his questions were finally going to get answers.

"Not long after Ansanom warned us of the assassin, a man approached your master."

"Is he the one who hired the assassins?" Aaron asked. "Who was he? What was his name?"

Ensel Rhe cast his gaze over one shoulder. "His name was Jaedon Liler."

"That name sounds familiar. Jaedon…" Aaron rolled the name over in his mind. Then, in a flash, he had it. "Jaedon the librarian? Why would a librarian hire—"

"I did not say he hired anyone. Now, listen, and do not interrupt again. Jaedon came to Elsanar with suspicions about a man who'd shown an abnormal interest in some of your master's papers."

Master Elsanar routinely sent essays and dissertations to Jaedon, who was Norwynne's master librarian, for transcription and copying. The papers were then couriered to various universities, libraries, and colleagues who shared in the broader areas of Elsanar's research. It was a testament to the sorcerer's generosity that he shared his knowledge so freely, but, Aaron thought, it also significantly widened the number of potential suspects.

"Nothing about the interest in your master's research was unusual. But there was something about the man Jaedon didn't like. He said he was too lean, as if only a skeleton, and his skin, white as bone. Also, he was interested in more than just Elsanar's work. He was also interested in the Underkeep. Jaedon said the man raided the library's deepest map drawers, pulling out dwarven plans that hadn't been looked at in generations. I did some checking myself and discovered that this man—this savant, as Elsanar called him—had done more than just study old construction plans. He mounted an expedition into the Underkeep. Nothing unusual there. People have been coming to Norwynne for decades looking for forgotten dwarven treasure. When I spoke with the guide who had led the savant into the Underkeep, he expressed the same misgivings that Jaedon had regarding his appearance. He also said that the man showed a keen interest in a locale that had already been explored countless times. No one had ever found anything there. Despite the guide's urging, the savant insisted on staying only there. When all was said and done, they returned to the surface empty-handed. I learned later that our mysterious stranger had left the city and not returned.

"I had the guide lead me down into the Underkeep to the same location he'd led the savant. I discovered nothing. When I reported to Elsanar, he became convinced that there was a connection between the man's interest in his research and in his exploration of the Underkeep. It seemed logical enough. Yet the precise connection eluded even Elsanar. Also, there was nothing to connect this man to the assassins, nor to you. At least not until Elsanar learned of the Five Elements.

"As I said, he mentioned little enough of them to me, so I can offer little accounting where they are concerned. Ancient dwarven magic? Relics from some forgotten age? Perhaps they are both, or neither. Elsanar suspected the Elements were what the savant had been trying to find. He didn’t find them. Not in the Underkeep, at least. Although he must have located them somewhere, for it seems likely they were involved in the attack on Norwynne."

Aaron remembered the monitoring device sounding the alarm right before the first tremors had started. The device had been tuned to elemental energy.

"But none of that addresses this savant's connection to the assassins. As for that, we were never certain. Once Elsanar learned of the Elements, he suspected something in the research you two were performing might prove the savant’s undoing. He was still trying to determine how when the attack came."

When Aaron realized that was all Ensel Rhe meant to say, he took some time to digest and review the information. It wasn’t long before questions began bubbling to the surface.

"Did Ansanom ever say how he knew about the first assassin?" he asked.

"No. I questioned him on that matter more than once. His answer was less than satisfying."

"But, it doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone want to kill me? If someone were trying to stop our research… . Ansanom probably contributed more than I did and he lives in the middle of nowhere. Why not kill him? Or Master Elsanar? Were attempts made against Master Elsanar?"

"No."

"Against Ansanom then?"

"He never said so."

"Did anyone ask?" Aaron questioned, perhaps a bit too harshly.

"I did not. Perhaps Elsanar did in one of their correspondences. It does not matter. The only real threat—the only one we encountered—was against you."

Aaron walked in silence for a time. Then, he asked, "What if he's dead?"

"Who?"

"Ansanom. What if Wildemoore was attacked the same as Norwynne?"

Ensel Rhe's step changed little at that. Neither did he answer.

Assassins. An elemental attack.

If there was a connection, Aaron was not seeing it. He reset his thoughts, thinking over all he knew, but there just wasn't enough information. But that was no excuse. The lack of data didn't matter. He routinely solved problems for Master Elsanar when facts were elusive or nonexistent. This was no different. Except that it was. This wasn't an experiment. Applying Nuclidean or Burgess problem solving techniques felt wrong. People had died. He'd been chased from his home. He'd—

Ensel Rhe hand touched Aaron’s shoulder. It was only then that he realized he’d stopped walking.

"Perhaps I have only created more questions for you," the eslar said, his stark white gaze meeting Aaron's. "For that, I am sorry. It is a troubling thing, to have an enemy whose identity and motive remains unclear. But, leastwise, let me placate part of your desire for knowledge with this name: Erlek Abn Nee. It was he who raised Jaedon's suspicions and, I believe, was responsible for the assassins and the attack on Norwynne. But do I know these things for sure? No. Perhaps Ansanom can enlighten us both."

Aaron nodded. For now, it was all he could do.

"It is at least to our advantage," Ensel Rhe said, "that Ansanom offered to take us in. Without his offer, we…" Ensel Rhe saw the puzzlement in Aaron’s face and instantly saw the implication. "Not because he knew of the attack. He never made mention of it. But because of the assassins. Ansanom asked months ago that Elsanar take you and himself to his manor, at least until we’d learned who had hired them and why. We go to Wildemoore because of that offer."

Aaron nodded again. He assumed they'd start walking once more and that he'd have to do his best to occupy himself with his own thoughts as he struggled to keep pace. But Master Rhe remained where he was. Aaron was pretty sure he knew what was coming.

"What were you and Elsanar working on?" Aaron had no sooner opened his mouth to answer when the eslar added, "And spare me the energy transference this or that. I heard enough of that elusiveness from your master. Tell me straight. What research was so important that someone would destroy a city to stop you from completing it?"

Again, he opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off once more. This time, not by Master Rhe.

This time, it was a piercing howl, rising from the distance but so loud it seemed as if it sounded all around them. It lasted five beats of Aaron's heart, then faded. No sooner had it stopped than another took its place. That one faded too, and the process was repeated, with each howl followed by another until, together, they formed a persistent symphony that swept through the forest like the wailing of the dead.

"Come," Ensel Rhe said. "With any luck, they're just signaling to one another and haven't picked up our scent yet."

Master Rhe wasted no time, immediately setting a pace that afforded Aaron no opportunity to protest. Though he felt driven to follow as fast as the eslar could lead, he quickly found himself floundering. The pace was too fast, the distance too great. Did Master Rhe expect him to run all the way to Wildemoore? He managed all of two leagues before his stride slowed to the point where he was barely keeping up. He managed one more before, heaving in air and unable to take another step, he had to stop.

"Master Rhe! I—I can't—" Aaron could barely gasp the words as he bent at the waist in agony.

The eslar didn't say a word as he wrapped one arm around him and plunged them forward. The trees of the Dormont grew more sparse as they came out into a dark, flat expanse. Even still, enough trees barred their passage that Aaron would have stopped or at least slowed for fear of running headlong into one of them. But Ensel Rhe, whose own vision seemed unaffected by the darkness, refused to do either. There seemed no end to the running nor to the howls that drew closer with each heaving breath until Aaron saw the great wall in the near distance rising up before them. It took him a moment to understand what it was. Then it hit him.

"The Narrow Cliffs," he said, choking the words out. "The dogs—the dogs—"

"Yes," Master Rhe replied, the single word the only confirmation—the only shard of hope—he offered.

The dogs couldn't climb.

Against the gray of the horizon the cliffs were a sheet of black, like a chasm to which they willingly hurled themselves. But the cliffs were not their doom. A remnant of some past upheaval, the cliffs separated the Dormont from the upper plateau. They had only to reach them. Reach them, and climb them.

A belch of thunder shook the ground beneath their feet. Its sound was not loud enough to disguise the snarls of their pursuers. Ensel Rhe never slowed. "Don't look back!" he shouted just as another crack of thunder caused Aaron's heart to miss a beat. Then the eslar released Aaron and shoved him forward. "Get to the cliffs!" Without Ensel Rhe's support, Aaron nearly crumbled, but another shout made him find his legs and keep running. "Go!" Then Aaron heard the eslar's weapons leave their sheaths and he suddenly realized just how close their pursuers were.

Without Master Rhe to lead him, Aaron stumbled through the dark. Fear of what might happen should he slow drove him, though. He did his best dodging trees or leaping over jumbles of rock. He slipped only once on some rain-slick leaves, but then he was there, standing before the Narrow Cliffs. They rose as tall as once great Regrok, though this was not mortar and stone but a wall of dirt, clay, and protruding roots. Not wasting a moment, he dispelled aching joints and sore muscles as he took hold of the lowermost roots bursting from the cliff face. Then he started to climb. Everything but the blood pounding in his ears and the cool touch of the damp roots fell away as that solitary act became his focus. Still, concentration was only half the battle. Strength was the rest. He'd not made it far at all when he realized he could go no further.

As if in mockery, the clouds opened, releasing drops light and fat that pattered on the ground beneath him and against the earthen face of the cliff. In moments though, it erupted into a steady downpour. Aaron peered upward. He saw nothing but the dark of the cliffs and the sky. He dared not risk a glance down lest he lose his balance and fall. Desperate to reach the top, but unable to will his muscles on, he clung to the cliff face and did nothing at all.

"Hurry!"

Ensel Rhe's voice coming from the dark shook Aaron back to the here and now. The eslar leapt half the distance Aaron had already climbed, clinging to the wall like a spider.

"Go on," he shouted, "but steadily!"

The barking of the dogs followed his arrival only by seconds.

"Make sure each handhold is secure and the same for your feet before you release anything. I will be behind you the whole way. Just concentrate on moving upward."

His confident assurance lent Aaron resolve. He managed to grasp the next highest root and, with Ensel Rhe there to guide his feet, pull himself up. He repeated the motion, again and again, slowly gaining higher ground with each struggling motion. Below, he heard the dogs, yapping and snarling. He imagined them leaping up the cliff face, desperate to reach their prey, but then falling down to earth as their paws failed them. He did his best to shut out their noise, concentrating instead on Ensel Rhe's voice.

"Halfway now," the eslar encouraged. "Only a little further."

The downpour loosened mud along the cliff face and dripped onto the roots, making them slick. Ensel Rhe, recognizing the danger, closed up with Aaron. All the while, he kept up his litany of encouragement. Aaron grew so intent on listening to the eslar's words that he scant realized they'd crested the top until he was no longer climbing but crawling horizontally through the mud. Not caring about the wetness of the grass or the damp, clumpy dirt, Aaron slumped to his belly in exhaustion. Snarls of disappointment sounded from the base of the cliff as the hounds came to realize their failure. Aaron rolled to face the dark sky, watching as Master Rhe peered out over the cliff's edge.

"What do you see?" Aaron asked, his breathing labored. "What do they look like?" He imagined giant mastiffs or some other hunting dog, big and ugly and mean.

The eslar stepped away from the edge. "You should move further back."

"Why?" Aaron didn't want to move another inch. "The dogs—they can't climb." Aaron swallowed. "Can they?"

Ensel Rhe removed his jacket and, in one quick motion, drew his khatesh. "The dogs, no. But their master…"

Aaron shot upright. "They have a master?"

"Yes," Ensel Rhe said as he held his jacket out to Aaron for safekeeping, "and I think he wants the kill himself."

Standing, Aaron took the coat. "What makes you say that?"

"He was holding the hounds—if that is what we are to call them—back. Letting them drive us, wear us down. He must not have known about the cliffs, else he would have sent them ahead to cut us off."

Aaron almost went to look out over the edge, but his legs refused to take him that far. "If he's coming, shouldn't we run?"

"No." Master Rhe held his blade out before him so that the rain ran down its length in tiny streams. "We still have some distance to cover and I’ll not have this master of dogs nipping at our heels the remainder of the way. I'll make quick work of him, then we'll be on our way. Now, stand away."

His tone carried a finality that left no room for arguing, and so Aaron did as he was told. The bluff they stood upon was scraped clean from the cliff's edge to a spot Aaron chose about twenty paces away, where a rocky outcropping gave him something solid at his back. In the storm's darkness, Aaron saw Master Rhe only as a lean, solitary shadow. Then lightning flared and Aaron saw that they were no longer alone.

The houndmaster was a shadowed brute, taller than Ensel Rhe even without his horned helm. In his hand he held a butcher's blade of a sword already unsheathed. He didn't engage Ensel Rhe right away, but instead looked past him, at Aaron. Aaron's gut clenched, for in that moment there was only himself and the demonic houndmaster standing upon the clifftop and the houndmaster saw him. Burning embers glared out from eye slits carved into the master's helmet, freezing Aaron in place while whispering of the fate that awaited him once the eslar was dead. Aaron wanted to turn and run but the master's stare held him fast. Then, as the lightning's flare faded, the demon's gaze left Aaron and returned to Master Rhe. In the next instant, the two combatants clashed together.

Their movement was revealed in brief flashes by the sharp flares of lightning streaking across the heavens. Between such bursts and as the rhythm of the battle fell into place, he saw their shades crisscrossing and blurring until there was no telling them apart but for the savagery of the one and the skillful finesse of the other. The whoosh of a blade swiping empty air or the ring of steel on steel were the only sounds Aaron heard as the two combatants traded one blow after another. They both slipped—the ground was slick with rain and mud—but when Ensel Rhe lost his footing such action melded naturally into his next move, as if he'd intended a misstep all along. Not so with the demon, who lurched and stumbled and finally staggered forward only to find his opponent not where he'd been a moment before, but instead behind him, driving his sword straight through the houndmaster's unprotected back. The master of hounds was dead before he hit the ground.

Ensel Rhe wiped his bloody blade across the wet grass before returning it to its sheath. The only sign of fatigue he displayed was a slight rise and fall of his chest.

Aaron ran to him, his eyes immediately going to the fallen form of the houndmaster. The body was only a dark smudge lying across the ground until the night flared with lightning, revealing the lifeless corpse and the blood covering it. Below, the dogs fell into an impassioned fervor of howling and whining, a litany of mourning, as if they knew their master had fallen.

"Come," Ensel Rhe said, taking his coat from Aaron. "Let's get moving."

Aaron tore his gaze from the fallen body, trying to purge the sight from his mind. The bloody image traveled with him the remainder of the night anyway.

12. The Four Elements

CONTRARY TO WHAT ERLEK HAD told Shanna earlier that morning, the savant never did call for her. It wasn't until mid-day, when the wagon finally stopped, that she was given the opportunity to vacate what had in just a few bumpy hours of travel become a sort of home to her. It was Mirna who parted the curtain separating Shanna from the outside world and, with her head bowed, said, "Please, milady, we have arrived. Master Nee has requested you and your belongings be transferred to the airship."

Shanna didn't like Mirna. It wasn't because the woman was unfriendly, impolite or disrespectful. It was just the opposite in fact. She was friendly, polite, and cordial to a bothersome extreme. No one had ever treated Shanna so well. Somehow it just felt wrong. The oppressiveness of the woman's cordiality had finally boiled over when, before they'd departed, Mirna had brought her clean water and food, laid out clothing she thought might fit Shanna well, and, finally, offered to remove Shanna's tattered garments and bathe her. It was the last which had caused Shanna to chase Mirna from the wagon, for she was neither a child nor a lady and could do such things herself. Shanna had gone so far as to tell her to never return, something she mildly regretted, for she'd not meant to sound so harsh. Now, she hoped to make amends.

"Mirna," Shanna said, "come in."

The woman stepped into the wagon's interior instantly. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor.

"Can you look at me and not the floor?"

Mirna's head came up. Her eyes met Shanna's, but only for an instant.

"Look at me," Shanna said again.

Their eyes met. This time the woman's gaze did not falter.

"I wanted to apologize—"

A look of horror overcame Mirna. "Oh, no, milady—"

Shanna stomped her foot on the wagon's timbered floor, more out of frustration than anger. "Mirna, please! I was rude and mean and… I'm sorry."

"Please, milady, there is no need—"

"Yes, there is, and please stop calling me 'milady'. My name is Shanna."

"As you wish, Lady Shanna." Mirna bowed. Her gaze fixed somewhere on a spot near the dark boots Shanna now wore.

"No, just Shanna. I'm not a lady. I'm just a girl, one who really just likes to be called by her name and that's all."

"Yes, mi— Shanna." Mirna paused, uncertain what came next. She retreated to the task that had brought her here. "I was sent to fetch you, milady. The master regrets not calling for you earlier, but wants to speak with you once you are onboard the airship."

Realizing it might take more than one session to alter the relationship between them, Shanna let out a deep breath and said, "Lead on, then."

Mirna bowed her head in deference, then she parted the wagon's curtain for Shanna to step through. The ladder was there as before. Shanna ignored it, leaping from the wagon so that her new boots sank into the grassy mud. It was cold enough that Shanna was immediately thankful for the dry clothes. She eyed the line of wagons and carts for a moment, relieved when she spotted the prison wagon still at the rear. The moment she'd felt her own wagon lurching forward she'd poked her head outside, concerned she might be leaving the others behind. With relief, she'd watched the prison wagon, pulled by its own team of oxen, wheel round the encampment and join the line of transports as they rolled out. Not all of the dwarves had come with them. Though she couldn't be certain of the number, now, as she strode down the line of wagons, she counted about a dozen of them. Several glanced her and Mirna's way, but it was a fleeting gesture. She did nothing to tempt their ire, but even innocent glances of hers were not met in kind. Not a single one of them held her stare for more than the briefest of moments before their faces, marked by a varied display of fear, loathing, disgust, or pity, turned away. She'd done nothing to elicit such reactions from them. She didn't know a one of them, nor had she done anything, good or ill, to them personally or to their kind. She'd never even seen a dwarf up until they’d been captured. If anything, she should have bad feelings towards them, after all they'd done to her. Tying her up and dragging her through the night, then locking her in a cage and making her watch while those horrible snakemen… she shook the memory of that experience from her mind.

As she approached the prison wagon at the end of the train, the pair of dwarves tasked with guarding the refugees moved off a bit as if they could not stand her presence. It was just as well, for it allowed her privacy as she placed her hands on the solid, iron bars. One look at her kinfolk and her heart sank.

The sergeant—Shanna couldn't remember his name—sat against the rear of the cage. His face was stained with dirt and crusted blood. The others—Jadjin, the boy Rail, and the man and woman—looked unhurt, but not unaffected by their predicament. Their clothing remained damp, their skin sallowed. Rail, whom Shanna remembered as a wisecracker much like herself, sat with his legs splayed out and his head sunk low. The man and woman leaned against one another, holding hands. They both looked at Shanna, their eyes devoid of life. Even Jadjin had lost some of her earlier vibrancy, though her mood lifted the moment she saw Shanna.

"You're alive!" the healer said. "When they took you away we thought we'd never see you again."

All eyes were on her. She suddenly felt guilty for having accepted the small comforts the savant had bestowed upon her. "I'm well. I—I don't know what they want with me, but I'm trying to go along with whatever it is until I can figure things out. I'll get you all out of here. I promise. I don't know how, but I'll do my best."

Jadjin touched her hand reassuringly while the others only nodded in response. Only the army man, the sergeant, made no reaction other than to stare at her as if she'd done something wrong. It took Shanna a moment to realize he wasn't so much staring at her as at her clothes, her washed face and treated wounds, and, as his eyes roamed past her, the servant woman Mirna who hovered just out of earshot.

"I'm going to get all of you out," Shanna said again, trying to instill some degree of confidence in her tone.

"Get the keys, girl, and come to us in the night," the sergeant grumbled. "It's our only chance of escape. We'll be waiting."

Shanna said nothing, but she nodded. Then she let her hands slip from the bars and, with Mirna, made her way towards the first wagon in the line. Many of the transports were either covered like hers or had heavy, oiled tarps draped over their loads. Dwarves pressed into service as draymen were already busying themselves with the unloading. Shanna slunk past them, thankful she wasn't being made to help.

As she reached the frontmost wagon, the unobstructed vista opened before her. The sight was enough to make Shanna realize she’d no idea where they were. No surprise there. She'd never been out of sight of Norwynne before. Most of the view was obscured by trees, anyway. In fact, spinning around, Shanna saw they'd rolled into a shallow valley. Back the way they'd come, Shanna noticed rectangular stones marking an ancient, forgotten road made visible only because of the grass their passage had laid flat. It continued onward, presumably up and out of the valley, though it appeared this was as far as they meant to take it. Progress from this point would be made in Erlek's airship. Shanna hadn't forgotten about the diri—the dirig—the flying ship. But she'd wanted to visit with the others first to let them know she wasn't going to leave them there, even though when she looked into the sergeant's eyes she knew that was exactly what he thought. Maybe she'd just leave him there, but she'd definitely get the rest out.

But not yet. Right now, all of Shanna's attention was suddenly on the airship that was just now appearing over the tops of the trees. Right away, she saw that it was a ship in every sense of the word, with a wooden hull as big as any she'd ever seen in one of Aaron's picture books. As it drew closer Shanna wondered if she shouldn't step away before it landed on top of her. But its descent was so graceful, its movement so slow, that she realized there was no danger. The hull was long and narrow but tapered at the middle section. It hung suspended beneath the largest balloon Shanna had ever seen. Sausage-shaped and bigger than the hull of the airship by many times, it held the ship aloft by a maze of cordage. Its flight made practically no noise at all except for an occasional spout of flame accompanied by a hiss that reminded Shanna of a large steaming kettle. Like a ghost ship, it glided ethereally through the air, devoid of any of the normal activity one would associate with a seafaring vessel. But then Shanna heard the shouts of sailors—no, not sailors, but airmen—coming from onboard. She realized that this thing—this wonder—was real, and that soon she'd be aboard her.

She thought of Aaron. For a moment, she imagined she heard his voice explaining the vessel's design and the principles that allowed it to fly. He'd launch into a discussion of the materials and the construction, how it moved and how it turned, not stopping until she punched him in the arm. Shanna sighed. She missed him. More than anything, she wished he was here with her right now. Lost in her thoughts, Shanna nearly jumped out of her oversized boots when a voice far deeper than Aaron's sounded next to her.

"You wear the clothes of another," the voice said.

It took a moment to shake off her surprise and another to realize who spoke to her. It was the leader of the dwarves. Somehow, she remembered his name. Engus Rul. Though clearly he'd spoken to her, he did not look at her as he made his own appraisal of the flying ship.

"They were… given to me." Shanna held her arms out to look the fine fabric of the sleeves up and down. Her old clothes, torn, ripped, soiled, and stained, had finally had enough. Mirna had disposed of them, including the vest Aaron had given her, which was beyond cleaning and smelled too much like the floodwaters and the floating dead. Her new shirt, which Shanna had at first thought garish but which she had warmed to once she'd seen herself in a small mirror, was dark blue with sleeves dyed maroon. The colors complemented one another and the gleam of the fabric, which felt smooth against her skin, accentuated the dark shimmer of her hair. Dark pantaloons, a studded belt she'd had to punch her own hole in because it was too long otherwise, and a vest the color of rubies completed her new attire.

The dwarf said nothing else, though he did not move away. Shanna seized the opportunity.

"Where did all of your dwarves go?"

"Home."

Shanna turned her head in his direction. He was thick as an ox, with calloused, scared hands that looked as if they could crush her with one squeeze. "Why?"

"Because that is where all honest dwarves should be. Home, with their wives and children, doing honest work. Those I gave leave were such dwarves who no longer need involve themselves in this… deviltry."

Shanna returned her gaze to the airship, pretending as if she scrutinized it in more detail when she was really trying to sort through what the dwarf had just said. Finally, she asked, "Why didn't you leave with them?"

This time, the dwarf shifted his gaze from the airship to look at her. They were very nearly the same height—Shanna was taller only by a hand—and she need only turn her head to meet his stare. The dwarf, about to reply, fell silent instead at the sudden appearance of Erlek Abn Nee.

Following just behind the savant were his sitheri guards. They walked in single file, a litter carried between them by poles resting at each of their shoulders. Though what they carried was hidden beneath a thick wrapping, Shanna had no doubt it was the savant's relic. The small procession made its way directly for the airship, which, still twenty paces from the ground, looked to have descended as far as it was going to. Shanna watched as ropes were lowered from the sides, followed by mates who scurried down with practiced ease. Each airman carried a spike over one shoulder that they pounded into the ground before securing the ropes to them. Then, a more intricate series of ropes was thrown from the dirigible. Grounded crewmen grabbed hold and stretched the length of it, fastening its end to more spikes. As the construct took shape, Shanna saw that it was a sort of rope staircase, with planks set for the steps and even a rope handrail. Erlek led his guard and the Element directly for it. The moment it was fully in place, he started up without delay. He and his procession disappeared onto the ship's deck moments later. The savant hadn't spared a glance for anyone, not even Shanna.

Seeing that Engus Rul's gaze had returned to the airship and the business going on there, Shanna wondered if their conversation was concluded when, without looking at her, the dwarf said just loud enough so that only she could hear, "You could probably run. Turn around, head for the trees. My dwarves are otherwise occupied and I'd not pursue."

Shanna's thoughts ground to a halt. Surely she'd heard the dwarf wrong. It took her a moment, but no, she'd heard him quite well. Which only meant the dwarf was playing with her, mocking her. Shanna studied his face, trying to read his true intent, but there was nothing there but stoicism and seriousness. Shanna swept her gaze around, paying particular attention to the dwarves, who were no doubt in on this trick. Engus Rul wanted her to run, so his dwarves could knock her down, tie her up again, and throw her into the cell where they obviously thought she belonged. She'd seen the looks they threw her. Yet, they were all going about their own business, not a one of them even glancing her way. In that moment, she wondered if Engus Rul's offer was sincere. She looked over a shoulder at the trees and hills. Engus Rul's offer was tempting, but it would mean running away, leaving the others behind, and—worst of all—never knowing more about the Element.

"No," she said. "I'm not going anywhere. Not until the others are freed." It was the only reason he need hear.

Engus Rul took one look at the defiance in her face and laughed in amusement. "Not until the others are freed, eh? Now just how do you think you're going to accomplish that?"

Shanna didn't know, but she wasn't going to back down now. "You'll find out when you wake up and we're all gone."

It was not the answer Engus Rul had been expecting, for his smile died and his brow narrowed. But then the smile returned and he was laughing again. "I like you, girl!"

Shanna felt the ends of her own lips turning into a smile. She suppressed it, though, and said with mild sternness, "My name isn't 'girl'. It's Shanna Bonnerman."

The dwarf extended a single, massive hand. "Engus Rul."

Shanna stared at that gigantic paw for a moment, then she took hold of it. She succeeded in grasping only three of his thick fingers.

"Good luck to you, Shanna, with your… escape." Engus Rul chuckled one last time, then he walked off to join the others of his kind.

Shanna watched him for a moment, the way he blended in with his dwarves. Laughing, joking, acting friendly now but she knew what he really was: a savage killer. She must never, ever forget it. He spoke of deviltry as if he was apart from it, but he was as involved as anyone, more so because he led this rabble. She'd have to watch him closely. As closely as she intended to watch the savant. They were both dangerous.

"Please, mi—" Mirna again. "Please, Shanna, we must board the airship. We mustn't keep Master Nee waiting."

Shanna let out a deep breath. "No, we mustn't do that."

With Mirna following close behind, Shanna followed in the savant's footsteps, reaching the base of the rope staircase where a growing number of airmen were regaining their land-legs while casting wary gazes at the dozen or so dwarven raiders who, for now, kept their distance. The airship's complement was mostly male, though Shanna was surprised to spot several women amongst those who had disembarked. They were all dressed in loose sailor's shirts and baggy pantaloons, the latter much like her own but of far lesser quality. Several carried long knives at their belts. A few others, clubs. Some cast glances her way, but none offered her so much as a nod in greeting. As Shanna started up the first of the rope stair steps, one started shouting out orders, organizing the others into foraging groups. Shanna paid no heed to what was said next as she soon found herself swaying to and fro on the unstable staircase. It was an unsettling experience, but she kept herself moving, refusing to look down or to seem like a frightened girl in front of the dwarves, the crewmen, or anyone else. Once, when her foot misstepped slightly, she did look down with immediate regret. It had not seemed so high up from the ground. She only paused a moment, to take a deep breath while tightening her grip on the swaying rope handrails, then she lifted a foot to the next step. When she reached the top, she immediately eased herself onto the ship's deck, never so thankful for something solid beneath her feet. Mirna, who'd ascended whisper quiet just behind her, gained the deck a moment after she did.

The deck's planking felt strong and sturdy, and the whole of it was immaculately clean: scrubbed, scoured, and sanded until it looked like fresh timber newly laid. She stood on only one deck of many. There was another forward and at least two more aft. But this one—called the waist deck, she later learned—was the largest and, at least presently, claimed the most activity. A select few—air-sergeants, Shanna imagined them—oversaw gangs who busied themselves stacking rope, hauling crates, and running fore and aft for reasons Shanna couldn't guess at. Her eyes followed their back-and-forth movement for a few moments before she looked up to the spider web of ropes crisscrossing from ship to balloon in so many ways Shanna felt dizzy just trying to trace the line of a few of them. The balloon itself was even larger close up than when she'd spied it from the ground, the whole of it a drab cream color and pulled so taut over an interior frame just visible through the thin fabric that Shanna thought for sure it might tear at any moment. The airship had no masts. There were no sails, so none were needed.

Wondering then just how the airship moved, Shanna, with Mirna still at her side, was distracted by the approach of a boy only a handful of years younger than she was. He had short blonde hair, wore the white breeches and blue shirt of a crewman, and would not have seemed out of the ordinary at all were it not for his complete lack of shoes or socks. The boy came to attention before them in an example of perfect military display. He bowed his head to both of them—Shanna first—then introduced himself.

"Welcome aboard the Griffin, m'ams. Name's Tom. I'm to see you to Master Nee's cabin." Tom looked directly at Shanna. His expression was cordial. "Don't worry, ma'am, you've got a cabin of your own. It's bein' made ready now. I'd show you to it straightaway, but Master Nee gave orders to see you 'fore you settled in. Please, if you'll follow me."

The moment Shanna took her first few steps to follow she was immediately reminded that she no longer stood on solid ground. It was as if she floated, each step going higher than she intended and taking longer to touch back down on the deck. She realized it was because the ship rose and fell with subtle effect, though it was unsettling enough that Shanna had to stop to still a rising sense of dizziness.

Tom, noticing, flashed a smile from over one shoulder. "Might take a day or two to get your air legs."

Mirna seemed no better off, and so Tom kept a slow pace for their benefit, leading them aft along the gunwale and up a short set of steps to the quarterdeck. Just in time, too, for the waist deck was soon inundated with even more activity in the form of dwarves and airmen bringing up crates from the wagons below.

"Now," Tom said from over one shoulder as they walked, "you can pretty much go wherever you like about ship, but best to stick to the quarterdeck when abovedeck. That's the deck we're on. Most of the time it's the least busy and the safest. Would hate to see you get tangled in some ropes and swept overboard." Tom turned to her and winked. "Belowdeck, mind the engine room. It's off-limits to everyone but the cap'n and ship's officers and engineers." They passed by a series of metal pipes that stuck out from the quarterdeck's flooring to ascend into the great balloon. There were seals to prevent leaks and, as Shanna stepped past, she felt the heat radiating from them. "Hot gas," Tom said, noticing her inspection of the pipes. "It's what gives us lift. Propulsion comes from aft propellers." Past the pipes was a companionway leading down into the ship's belly. They had to wait a moment as a procession of four mates appeared one at a time carrying casks over one shoulder. Once the way was clear, Tom hurried them down. At the bottom, they found themselves at a sort of square junction, with open doorways at each side. Tom chose one, leading them through a short hall to a ladder leading down again. At this next lower level, they followed a passage where several times they had to scrunch against the wall as others passed in the opposite direction. Tom used one such opportunity to relate some tidbits about the airship. The decking, ribs, and hull, where the most strength was needed, were constructed of hardwoods—oak mostly—while most of the interior spaces were walled off with softer, lighter woods. Though space was at a premium on any ship, on an airship, Shanna was told, weight, or lack thereof, was paramount above all else. Curious, Shanna asked how the Griffin was able to fly, or rather, what produced the hot gases. "Inflation engine, ma'am," Tom said. The inflation engine, Tom explained with unexpected passion, was located at the center and bottommost point of the hull. Fed by pumice, which he described as something like black glass, the engine was akin to a blacksmith's bellows except that the resulting gases were cleansed then routed through shafts and into the balloon. It was these gases that lifted the balloon—and the ship—heavenward. Tom went on to describe more about the gases—how the inflation rate correlated directly to the amount of lift—but most of it sounded like so much of the gibberish she too often heard from Aaron that Shanna readily tuned the details out. She remained polite, though, nodding when expected, but seized the opportunity to change the subject the moment Tom paused for breath.

"What do you do on the ship, Tom?"

"Cabin boy, ma'am. But only for now. I'm working my way up to engineer." That explained his fervency with regard to the engine. "Been serving onboard the Griffin for three years now. I still have a lot to learn, but I'm getting there. So far, I’ve only been allowed to tinker with the gyros. Oh, you may not have seen those. There’s a pair of them docked aft. Think of them as ‘personal transports’. They can only carry one or two at a time, so we don’t use them often."

As the latest round of airmen for whom they’d stood aside moved past them, Tom took the lead once more.

Shanna, again noticing that Tom wore no shoes, took the opportunity to ask him about their absence.

"Cap'n's punishment, ma'am," Tom said without stopping.

"The captain took away your shoes as punishment?"

Tom glanced at her and smiled. "No, ma'am. Lost my shoes in a game of crutchit."

Shanna knew the game well. In Norwynne, she'd had a lucky hand with the dice more often than not.

"I'd already won'em back, but when the cap'n found out we'd been gamblin' and what I'd wagered, he decided to make me walk around without my shoes as punishment. Didn't want me putting holes in my socks, so ain't got those either. Don't worry, ma'am, cap'n just wants to teach me a lesson. I'll get'em back soon enough."

Then they were at their destination: a door dark lacquered and elegant. Tom grabbed hold of its brass knob and said, "Master Nee isn't here. He's off talkin' to the cap'n. If he were here, I'd knock first." He winked at them both, then led them into a room whose luxury instantly impressed Shanna. Wainscoting wrapped the walls, moldings accentuated the crevices and corners, and plush carpeting was laid at their feet. It was well furnished, too, with a small divan, a hardwood writing desk, a padded hammock, and a pair of high-backed chairs. Most notable of all was a low table set at one side, for upon it was the Element. Still hidden away beneath its covering, Shanna nonetheless knew—no, felt—it was there. No sooner had Shanna's gaze locked onto it when Erlek Abn Nee entered right behind them. His sitheri guards were thankfully absent.

"Leave us," the savant said as he strode directly through the group of Shanna, Mirna, and Tom.

Tom obeyed instantly, though he managed to slip Shanna a wink before he vacated the room. Mirna took a moment to whisper to Shanna. "I'll see that your belongings are delivered to your room, Sh—milady." Then she was gone as well.

Erlek removed his robe, paying her no attention at all until he asked, "Did you have a nice conversation with our good clan lord?" Beneath the robe he wore a simple, drab pair of cotton pants and a tight shirt buttoned from the neck, where a scarf was wrapped, down to frilled cuffs at the wrists. The robe did much to hide the man's skeleton-like frame. Without it, he was downright cadaverous. Despite this, there was vigor in his limbs and the spark of life in his eyes. "I imagine he told you all sorts of things about me, did he not?"

Shanna pulled her gaze from his gaunt form and met his stare. "We didn't talk about you."

Erlek considered her answer, then, satisfied, changed the subject. "You no doubt wondered why I allowed you to walk freely just now."

"You said your sitheri were overzealous," Shanna said, "that they might kill me if given reason. You also said you wouldn't harm the others as long as—"

"Yes, yes, both true. But my guards were occupied. The dwarves have no love for me. You must have learned at least that much from Engus Rul. I would not be surprised at all if he offered to turn a blind eye while you fled." Seeing right away the denials forming on Shanna's lips, Erlek waved his hand in dismissal. "It matters not. There are, however, reasons I offered you such liberty. First, to show you that you are not a prisoner—not in the truest sense of the word, leastwise—and second, because you know, just as I do, that our paths have been linked by the inexplicable flows and eddies of Fate. I think we both knew it the moment you invoked the power of the Element."

Shanna's gaze went to the hidden object. "Invoked?"

Erlek took a seat in the chair at the opposite side of the desk. A soft knock at the door interrupted him before he could say more.

The door opened, admitting a boy perhaps a year or two older than Tom who wore the same ship's attire—though this boy wore shoes—and who carried a tray of hot tea and ship's biscuits. Erlek's expression became one of amusement as the boy's face drained of color and his hands shook so that the tea cups rattled on the tray. He somehow managed to place the tray on the desk without dropping it or spilling, whereupon he clumsily sloshed tea into two cups. He withdrew with a hasty bow and nary a word spoken.

Erlek lifted one of the cups and sipped from it. A gesture invited Shanna to sit and take the other. She did, though she sat on the divan, which was further from Erlek than the opposing chair. He didn't seem to notice. Erlek took another sip of his tea, then he spoke. His voice was low and he spoke slowly, as if he meant to add emphasis to each word.

"I found Tool—I don't recall his true name—in a seaside village, far to the south, along the coast of Kallendor." Kallendor, Land of the Horse Lords. It was a mythical place to Shanna. "Like you, he was gifted. Unique, you might say, in that he was able to elicit a response from the Element. You can imagine my dismay when you killed him."

Shanna gulped down the tea she'd just sipped, causing herself some discomfort as she coughed. She wasn't sure if the savant expected her to say something. Erlek went on before she had a chance and especially before the unpleasant memories of that act of murder played themselves over in her mind. She'd never killed—never really hurt—someone before. But Erlek's boy had gotten what he deserved. She'd no doubt about that.

"It took years to mold him into my Tool. At first, I offered him friendship, until he looked upon me as a brother. Then, I offered compassion as only a parent could. Last, when he was thoroughly enamored with me, I broke him. I will spare you the methodology. It was not pleasant. When he was nothing more than a whimpering, quivering, sobbing boy, who pulled away at the mere lift of my finger—when he was irrevocably mine—I brought him back, lifting him up as my apprentice. If he seemed impetuous or cruel," Erlek said, shrugging, "he had learned pain and fear, and wished to expunge himself of the memories by visiting the like upon others. It is a common enough thing amongst the abused."

Shanna shifted uncomfortably. "Why are you telling me this?"

Erlek returned his tea cup to the tray. Then, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, he said, "I tell you this because I haven't the time to do the same to you. Make no mistake, if my plans did not now come to fruition so rapidly, if events did not culminate so quickly, I would break you. You would be mine just as Tool had been. But, as I have said, there is no time. Instead, I offer you a partnership." The savant pushed away from the desk and moved to where the Element lay concealed. He looked at Shanna once, a quick glance to measure her interest. She was fixated on nothing else. With a flourish, Erlek revealed the thing that was the Element. "Behold," he said, "the Element of Earth."

All of Shanna's expectations, all of her thoughts of powerful, golden artifacts, every idea she'd concocted about the sheer magnificence of such a device were dashed in that single moment, for the Element was nothing more than an earthen bowl sitting upon a simple wooden stand. In disbelief, thinking her eyes somehow deceived her, Shanna stood and approached it. A closer examination did nothing to alter her initial impression. The Element was an empty, clay bowl. Nothing more. Shanna wanted to laugh.

"This is the Element?" She did laugh then. "I don't believe it! It's a—"

"Look closer," Erlek said. His tone was flat, revealing neither annoyance nor impatience. "Do not let your eyes be the only sense you see with. Open yourself. You feel it, do you not?"

She did feel something, a tingling sensation, almost like a chill, as if the bowl, though still, seemed to exude something that reached out in waves to encompass her.

"Where does it come from?" Shanna asked, mesmerized now.

Erlek returned to his chair. Shanna hardly noticed until the savant's voice sounded from behind her.

"From a place that is lost to most people's memories. It was created a long time ago, by a people long vanished from the world. Have you heard of the druids?"

Shanna had not. "Did they create it?"

"No. But ones who had once been druids did. Driven by selfishness and greed, a contingent broke from the druid hierocracy to form their own sect. Fancying themselves 'elementalists', they reneged on their vows, devoting themselves not to the earth, but to themselves. You see, a druid's most solemn vow was to serve Uhl, to protect and nurture the greater world around us all. The elementalists wanted no more of this. In place of their sacred druidic oath, they swore a new one, not to serve the earth, but to master it. To this end, these elementalists met in secret, creating the Four Elements, the four devices to bind and control the power of each of the natural elements of Earth, Fire, Water, and Air. Such blasphemy could never be tolerated by the druids. The elementalists knew this just as they knew that the creation of the Elements would draw their former brothers and sisters like moths to a flame. Draw them it did. The ensuing conflict was… unimaginable."

"Did they kill them?" Shanna asked, not turning from the Element.

"Not all of them. Not at first anyway."

Behind her, Erlek poured himself more tea. "For, you see, the elementalists were a farseeing lot, and so they planned for every eventuality. Rather than allow the Elements to fall into the hands of the druids, who would surely destroy them, they charged four of their number with a special task. They were to take the Four Elements to the furthest reaches of Uhl and there secret them away. The four were dispatched, each carrying one of the Four Elements to a different locale. Then, when they'd fulfilled this duty, they took their own lives. All except one, that is, who thought to hide from the druids' all-seeing eyes. For a time, he did. But whilst in hiding, others the druids had captured—those who had not been of the four—were subjected to questioning, then torture, and finally, death. The druids learned of the elementalists' plan to send the Elements away, but not the devices' locations. Only the four knew where the devices had been hidden. The most the druids could therefore learn was the names of those four individuals. A name, however, can be powerful. In time, they found the remains of the three who had killed themselves and, finally, the one who had refused this final duty. Even under duress, he defied them, refusing to divulge the whereabouts of the Element he had hidden."

Erlek paused for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. When he next spoke, his words came in a rush. "The druids burned him alive and scattered his ashes to the Four Winds. This was four or five hundred years ago. Kingdoms have risen and fallen in that time. Entire civilizations have crumbled to dust. The druids themselves have faded from history. Their fate is one of the great mysteries scholars still brood over. The Four Elements were never found by them or anyone else and memory of the devices faded along with both druid and elementalist until no one knew any of it had ever even existed."

Shanna finally turned to look upon Erlek. "Yet you know about all of it. About the druids and the elementalists and the Elements. They hid the Elements so that no one—not even the druids—knew where to find them. Yet you found this one."

"I found this one, yes. And now, I intend to find the others or, rather, retrieve the others, for I already know where they are."

"How? Who are you, really? Are you one of these elementalists? Or are you a druid?"

Erlek snorted. "I am neither. If I were, I would have no use for you, now would I?" He must have seen the confusion in Shanna's face, for he said, "Let me speak plainly. I am no sorcerer of the earth. I am a scholar, a man of science, if you wish."

Shanna remembered the laboratory equipment. The crucibles, beakers, flasks, and tubules running up the table and into Corrin, who'd been drained of his life, his very essence gathered and used for—used for what? When first she'd seen Erlek, he'd been the quintessential old man, with slow step, bent back, and hobbled gait. Now, he was… renewed. Shanna glanced at the dark lacquered door, closed now, then at the Element, and finally at Erlek. She crossed her arms, clenching them tight at her chest. What was she doing here? How did she get herself into this?

Oblivious to her discomfort, Erlek went on. "I have spent my life searching through lost lore, hunting down every shred of evidence I could find concerning the Elements. The entire telling is laborious. Suffice to say it was a long, time-consuming process of researching and cross-referencing. I have traveled to the great libraries of Penlar and of Gert, sifted through the sands at the ruins of Ureldale and Minsa Kirth, trod the swamps of Gereleth and the ancient palace of the Thog. Made deals with sitheri, dwarves, eslar. Suffice to say that discovering the whereabouts of the devices was not easy. But it was accomplished."

"That's all very nice, but I still don't understand why you're telling me any of this or even why I'm here," Shanna said.

Erlek took another sip of his tea. "The answer to that question is something I would prefer to ease you into, but, again, since time grows short, I shall simply come out with it and hope your fortitude is sufficient." He leaned forward, laying his hands flat on the desk as his gaze probed for hers. Shanna met that stare, though looking into those steel gray eyes sent a chill dancing across her spine. "Let me first say this. Fate is a strange mistress. Why she chooses to bring together two people from two different walks of life so that they suddenly find themselves in a room talking over tea is both a mystery and a wonder. You, Shanna, are here because the blood of elementalists courses through your veins. You are here because you may very well be the last who can summon forth the power of the Four Elements." Erlek paused a moment, then he leaned back. "I spoke earlier of a partnership. This then is the reason: I have the Element, but cannot use it. As I have said, I am neither elementalist nor druid. But I am trained in the many disciplines of the mind. I can teach you how to master this Element and the others also, for we are on a quest to retrieve all of the devices."

Shanna let out a breath. Of all the man had said, one thing rang out above the rest. The blood of elementalists courses through your veins. It wasn't true. How could it be? She wasn't anyone's descendant… well, she was someone's descendant, but that her ancestors were elementalists? It was ridiculous. She was an orphan, a nobody, born into a life of serving others, of working in the kitchens and, of late, making… soap. Stirring boiling oils. Mixing scents whose every whiff made her sneeze. Doing every little thing Nora asked of her else she suffer a cut in her already miniscule pay.

In Norwynne she'd been chained to a life she hated. But she wasn't in Norwynne anymore. She was in the most unpredictable of locales, being told impossibilities. Impossibilities that she believed. Not because of Erlek's words, but because she'd felt the Element, sensed the change within her from that very first moment she'd drawn near to it. She could deny it all she wanted, but, still, it was there. She looked over at the bowl. It was something you ate or drank from, not some all-powerful artifact that she of all people could control. The whole notion was laughable. The more she thought about it, the more she was struck by the sheer hilarity of it. Soon, she was smiling. It was funny. She giggled. She put her hand to her mouth, trying to stop herself, but her attempt was only half-hearted, and soon her mirth was rolling from her uncontrollably.

Erlek was not amused. Though his expression was a blank slate, there was a lift at one corner of his brow that was enough to signify his displeasure. Shanna made no effort to stop. Let the old whatever-he-was be annoyed. He deserved that and more. Much more. In that moment, a revelation hit her, and Shanna knew what she had to do. Her laughter petered out, and she spoke.

"You mentioned a partnership."

Erlek's brow lowered, replaced by a narrowing that Shanna interpreted as increased scrutiny. After a few moments of silence, he said, "Yes, a partnership. In exchange for your obedience, I will allow you your freedom. I will teach you the use of this Element and, when we have retrieved the others, those as well."

"And if I don't agree?"

"Such a discussion is not conducive to our arrangement. Only agree to help me and we need never speak of such… unpleasantries."

Shanna knew what those unpleasantries might entail. Either a quick death at the hands of the sitheri or a slow, painful one in Erlek's laboratory. Such choices made her decision easier, but they also didn't matter, for she'd already made up her mind. "I accept."

"Good. Very good." Erlek rose. His attention no longer on Shanna, he started to shuffle through one of the desk drawers. "Now, leave me. We shall speak again later this day. At that time, we shall begin your training. You have much to learn and little time to learn it."

Though dismissed, Shanna wasn't done yet. She still had questions. Erlek, or rather his boy, had used the Element to attack her home. The savant had said as much earlier in the wagon. But he'd not said why. Even with what she knew now, there seemed no reason for it. It seemed a simple thing to answer, and so Shanna asked, "Why did you attack Norwynne? Why did you kill all those people?" She remembered the bodies, floating lifeless in the underkeep pool. Also, she remembered the man, on the rooftop of Graggly's Tower, come to kill Aaron. Erlek had asked about Aaron. "Did you send an assassin, too?" she asked before realizing that by doing so she was admitting that she knew Aaron.

Erlek stopped what he was doing. His gaze returned to her. "Assassin? I sent no assassin, I can assure you of that. As for the rest, it was unavoidable. There were—are—individuals who would seize the Elements for their own use. Elsanar of Norwynne was one such person. Much like the druids had sensed the presence of the Elements those hundreds of years ago when the artifacts were first created, there are those in our own world who have attuned themselves to certain Earth energies and who can thus sense the presence of such devices. Call it a pre-emptive strike, for the moment I had otherwise used the Element, Elsanar and his coterie would have been on me, ready to seize it. That is something I could not allow."

"Then others—other sorcerers—will be coming too."

"Yes, possibly. If we do not move swiftly, most definitely. In any case, we must be ready for them."

"Where are we going then?"

"We go to a place called Cauldron Mountain. There, we shall retrieve the Element of Fire."

"When are we leaving?"

"My girl, we've already left."

The excitement must have been plain on Shanna's face, for Erlek wasted no time gesturing at the door. Shanna seized the opportunity, fleeing the room without a single glance over her shoulder.

The passage outside was empty. Shanna wondered if she shouldn't wait here for Mirna, but then she thought better of it, figuring they'd find each other eventually. Eager to witness their flight, Shanna made straightaway for the upper deck while she played out her conversation with Erlek in her mind. In particular, she mulled over what the man had said about her heritage. She'd laughed about it, but if it were all some sort of joke, what was she doing here? Why was she still alive? The question brought with it the enormity of her situation. She had to stop as a chill of fear swept through her. Several deep breaths did not dispel it. She was never meant for this. She wasn't strong enough, wasn't brave enough.

Stop it!

She was strong enough and brave enough. She'd been both her entire life. Nothing had ever been given to her. She'd outsmarted or manipulated or fought for everything she'd ever had. Icy fear lay on her skin like a sheet, but it went no further. With a shake, it was gone. The path before her was clear. Erlek had used the Elements to destroy her home. Now she'd use them to destroy him.

Erlek Abn Nee was going to die.

13. The Hounds of Hell

IT TOOK SOME DISTANCE—A league, Aaron figured—before the wind and the rain finally smothered the piercing, mournful song of the dogs. Aaron was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to find someplace warm and dry to curl up and rest. For once, Ensel Rhe obliged him, though he insisted they trudge across several more leagues before he finally stopped in front of a dark hole hidden beneath tangled brush. The eslar swept the opening clear and, stooping, entered the cave. Aaron would have followed right behind him except that it was too dark. He remained crouching just far enough inside to protect himself from the worst of the rain until a spark and then a small flame enticed him in deeper. Master Rhe had been here before, for already there was a shallow fire pit dug and a stack of enough dry wood to last several nights. At its brightest, the fire was small, but then so was the cave. It was dry, though, and soon warm enough. With the almost pleasant sound of rain falling outside, Aaron started to feel a small amount of comfort with their new surroundings, but not enough to chase away memories of the hounds.

"I don't like dogs," he said, as if the words might purge him of the last of his lingering fear. He jabbed one end of a stick into the fire, then tossed it into the flames and watched it burn.

"C'en dun, daegs w'me."

Aaron looked across the fire. The eslar's gaze remained lost in the flames.

"That's krill," Aaron said. Krill. Cat-people. Aaron attempted a translation. "When I…" He didn't know Krill, but he'd studied the phonetics of the Vem and knew Kernecian. Both were similar. "When done, dogs… no, when I am done…" Aaron sat up. "When I am done, the dogs will come for me." A belch of thunder rattled the cave. When its noise had faded, Aaron asked, "What does it mean?"

"It means," Ensel Rhe said, settling against the wall as he stretched his legs before him, "that I do not like dogs, either."

"Do you think the savant, Erlek, sent them?" It seemed a stupid question, for Aaron was already quite certain he knew the answer, though Master Rhe indulged him anyway.

"Yes," the eslar said. "I've no doubt of it. Clearly, he was not pleased with your escape from the city."

Aaron took no satisfaction from that. Not wanting to think about the dogs anymore and figuring they'd already exhausted what they knew about the savant, Aaron decided to change the subject. "You spent time amongst them, didn't you? The krill, I mean."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because it's the only explanation for the way you jumped off that balcony and survived and you've hardly slept since this whole thing started and not once have I seen you so much as yawn and—"

"Spending time amongst the krill explains none of those things. Only those born krill can be krill. I am eslar. Besides, in order to have spent time with them, I would have had to have entered their lands. The krill suffer trespassers only as long as it takes to kill them, which is not very long."

"Yes, but I know what's said of the krill. Or, at least, what's been written."

"Oh?"

"There was a book in Master Elsanar's library. The author attended a trade day held at the fringes of their territory. While there, he documented some of his observations. Cat-people never lose their balance, they can fall great distances without injury, they never really sleep, at least not like we… not like I do, but instead nap frequently. Also…"

"Yes?"

"The book said the krill have more than one life."

"Really?" said Ensel Rhe, one brow rising. "How many lives do they have then?"

"Nine, like a cat."

One side of Ensel Rhe's mouth turned up. It was the closest thing to a smile Aaron had ever seen on him.

"Most of that is true, except for the bit about extra lives. Krill have no more than the single life we are each given. I can assure you of that much."

Wanting to keep the conversation alive, Aaron was mindful of the silence that built up as he took a moment to settle himself in order to rest his back against the cave wall. In the process, he managed to jab the hilt of the knife given to him by Master Rhe into his side. He grunted, then pulled the sheathed blade from his belt and set it on his lap. When his gaze returned to Ensel Rhe he saw that the eslar's gaze had drifted from the fire to the knife.

"Thank you for this," Aaron said. "I'm afraid I've not had much chance to use it." Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, Aaron thought. He ran his hand along the bone sheath. "Not that I know how to, anyway."

"There is not much to know. At its simplest, keep a firm grip and slash. If your opponent comes too close, jab."

Still, the eslar's gaze had not left the weapon. Aaron thought perhaps he wanted it returned to him. He asked, holding the knife up. But Master Rhe only shook his head.

"No. Best you keep it. Just in case."

Aaron lowered it, but only halfway. On a whim, he drew the knife from its sheath. Light from the fire danced across the blade as he realized he'd not really examined the knife or its housing before now. The sheath was polished bone, simple and strong. The blade, double-edged and razor sharp. Aaron knew nothing of how to wield such a weapon. That much was true. But he knew metallurgy, it having been one of his subjects. The blade had been pattern welded. Steel alloy combined with nickel or a similar substitute, the telltale sign being the distinctive waving pattern across the flat of the blade. Fitted into a bone handle wrapped with leather, it was not the weapon of a mercenary but of an aristocrat or someone similarly wealthy, who wore it for show most times, but who might use it if the need arose. Holding one finger out, Aaron positioned the knife horizontally. He balanced it with little effort.

"It seems you know something of knives after all," Ensel Rhe said.

Aaron inserted the knife into its sheath, then returned it to his lap.

"You asked about the krill," Ensel Rhe said. "They do kill trespassers on sight, as much to protect their lands as to maintain their way of life. Outside influence is, to them, taboo. Despite this, they permitted—nay, I should say tolerated—my presence amongst them for a time. One krill in particular, a claw master named Yuma, took me in as his student. The things you spoke of—jumping from the balcony and such—these abilities are not learned. Not all of them, leastwise. The krill are students of spirituality and balance. To that end, they seek to make themselves more than they are. I took part in some of these rituals. The end result was that I was… changed."

"But why?"

"So that, someday…"

The wind's howl sharpened, and the pounding rain reminded them of their current circumstances.

"On nights such as these, perhaps it is best that such tales remain untold."

Disappointed, Aaron nevertheless nodded in agreement.

"Yet," Ensel Rhe said, "there is still one tale I would like to hear… from you."

"From me?" Aaron straightened. "Oh. You want to know what Master Elsanar and I were working on."

Ensel Rhe waited.

"Mostly, we were trying to extend the Principle of Confluence."

The eslar returned a look if not of ignorance than at least one lacking in knowledge.

Aaron explained. "The Principle of Confluence states that when two identical energy sources come together they combine to form a single, more powerful energy source. We were trying to break new ground by studying what happens when two or more disparate energy sources come together. Typically, they do one of two things. They either cancel each other out or—"

"React violently."

"Yes. But we found that under certain circumstances those sources of energy, though different, can be blended into a single, more powerful source as if they were the same. So far, we'd only demonstrated this in the laboratory on a small scale. Even then the combinatory effect didn't last long. The next steps included stabilizing the reaction and eventually attempting a larger experiment in the field. I was spending much of my time taking attunement readings and researching the effect of minute—"

"So why would anyone want to stop such research?" The question was asked with a passive tone and a drifting gaze as if Ensel Rhe was merely thinking out loud and not expecting an answer. But then he did look at Aaron. "You were working towards what could potentially be a very powerful energy source."

"A very, very powerful energy source. One potentially without limits. Or, at least, not the conventional limits we're accustomed to. Take sorcery, for example. A sorcerer's power comes from within. The spirit, or soul energy, is transformed into magical energy and a spell is cast. The strength of the spell is directly proportional to the strength of the caster. But, even still, such strength has limitations. If a sorcerer draws upon too much of his energy, he falters or dies. There is a thing called a Joining, where one sorcerer draws magical energy from another. That is what Master Elsanar and the others were doing on Regrok when…" Images of the over-taxed wizards, burned out from their own expenditure, flashed across his mind. He swallowed, doing his best to purge them from his memory as he went on. "But that's a case of similar energy sources and would never work if, say, someone tried to combine the energy from sorcery with alchemy. But our theory stated that if the attunement of disparate energy sources could be altered so that the attunement of all sources is identical, then those varied energy sources are no longer disparate, but the same. If true, then what this means is that there would be nothing to stop a sorcerer, for example, from drawing upon any other power source to fuel his magic. Alchemical, electrical, capacitive—"

"Elemental."

Aaron paused at that. "Yes. Elemental, too."

That brought a silence between them that lasted until Ensel Rhe said, "Though Elsanar seemed convinced as to why this Erlek Abn Nee wanted you dead, now that I have some idea as to what you were working on, I'll admit I share your doubts concerning the old wizard's conclusion. Nefarious folk do not often kill the people working on such things. They'd want you to at least finish first. Unless he saw such research as competition."

Aaron was just taking that last part in when a sound he thought he'd never hear again rose above the rampage of wind and rain. A single howl that, like before, started alone, but was soon joined by others.

Neither of them breathed. For the span of several heartbeats, they only listened. Then Ensel Rhe shouldered his pack and stood in one motion.

"Come. If they find us here, we will be trapped."

Aaron stood on legs that were far from rested. "But how—how are they tracking us? Their master is dead. Isn't he?"

"Yes, he is dead." The eslar's tone did not inspire confidence.

Aaron was allowed a moment to fasten his cloak securely. Just as he was about to hoist his pack over a shoulder Master Rhe instructed him to leave it. Then, with Ensel Rhe in the lead, they left the cave to flee across the barren, rocky terrain of the Upper Shelf.

The night remained a place best left to those who'd no desire for comfort or warmth or any sort of pleasantness, for Aaron's clothes provided little protection from the cutting wind and almost instantly the rain soaked him through until even his toes, buried deep within his shoes, were wet and cold. They heard the dogs in the distance. Aaron found it impossible to tell from which direction they sounded, though Ensel Rhe, clearly more prescience, made slight adjustments to their course at regular intervals. Aaron trusted that such adjustments led them further from their pursuers and so he held his cloak tight about him, clenched his teeth against the cold, and followed without complaint.

In time, the rain lessened, though the wind did not. Morning brought with it a dense fog that shielded nearly everything from view. The rock beneath their feet turned to hard-packed earth. Vegetation remained scarce, though as the hour must have approached noon, they chanced upon an old oak. Ensel Rhe permitted them to stop beneath its wide branches but briefly, for all too soon they were moving again.

The land rose from there, in gradual fashion, but enough that they soon found themselves above the fog. Dark clouds overhead washed away most of the sun's light. No sooner had they freed themselves from the mist when it began to rain again. They spent the night huddled beneath a rocky overhang, not sleeping, but at least no longer walking. Further consolation that they'd detected no further sign of the hounds must have eased Aaron's mind enough that he dozed, for the next thing he knew Ensel Rhe was shaking his shoulder to wake him. He opened weary eyes to see that morning had come and that it had ushered in no change at all in the weather.

They had a quick, cold bite, then set out. The terrain rose and fell now in long, shallow hills growing thick with wild grasses and thorny shrubs. A light mist teased at their legs. They swept through it like ships bolstered by heavy winds, stopping only when they heard the triumphant howls of the hounds announcing that they'd found their prey once more. This time, they sounded so close that, as one, Aaron and Ensel Rhe turned. Aaron spared a quick, sidelong glance at Master Rhe. The eslar stood so still it looked as if he'd stopped breathing. The only movement he made was to place his hand upon the hilt of his khatesh. Then, from their vantage point upon the crest of a hill, they saw the dogs emerge from the mist. They were spread out in a line, a dozen of them, black as night and running with the speed of charging destriers. Aaron and Ensel Rhe would have turned and run right then, except their attention was drawn to the lone figure running behind their line. Too far to make out any details, there was nevertheless no mistaking his identity.

"That's impossible," Aaron said, just able to make out the horned helmet now. "I saw you kill him."

Ensel Rhe drew his sword in a flash of steel.

It was an instinctive reaction—it must be, Aaron thought—for the eslar had no hope of fighting the houndmaster and his pack out in the open. They'd tear him to pieces.

"What are you going to do with that?" Aaron asked.

"Kill this demon once and for all."

"That didn't work too well the first time."

Stark white eyes burned into Aaron.

"I-I mean, he's still—"

"This time, I'll take his head."

"Maybe you will. But what about the dogs? You can't fight them all." Ensel Rhe's attention did not waver. Aaron tried a different tactic. "How much further to Ansanom's manor?"

"One, perhaps two leagues."

Close enough that they might just make it. As long as they stopped wasting time and got moving now. Ensel Rhe came to the same conclusion, for without sheathing his sword he whirled around, grabbed hold of Aaron, and ran.

They went between two hills, up another, and then at the bottom of a long, shallow valley they spied Wildemoore Manor, still standing and not devastated like Norwynne. Set amongst the mist and clouded by the rain, the place was bulky and cylindrical, like a tower, but only as tall as a three or four storey house with great eye-browed windows, latticed balconies, and a spired top. Unmarked by banners or insignia of any kind, it was dark and dour, with not the slightest sign of activity about the place. Another structure was nearby—a barn, most likely—but it was as lifeless as the manor.

Running, staggering at times, they propped each other up, willing the other on, for even Ensel Rhe's breathing was labored now, this sudden explosion of energy finally chipping away at even his indomitable resolve. Behind them, the hounds signaled their proximity. They were too loud, too close. Aaron felt more than saw those dozen shapes enter the valley so close behind them, bounding in pursuit until, of a sudden, there was no longer any distance between hunter and hunted. In that instant, the pack's leader lunged for them. Ensel Rhe was ready. He let go his hold on Aaron, shoving him forward as he half-turned and sent his shoulder into the hound. They went down together in a rolling, tangled mass.

Aaron kept running, his only focus on reaching the manor. For its safety, but also to make Ansanom aware of their presence and their predicament, for only the sorcerer could save them now. To that end, Aaron shouted as loud as his heaving lungs allowed. He managed only two such cries when, with only fifty paces separating him from the manor, he heard a snarl directly behind him. There was no time for thought, no time for anything except to dive to the ground. His final cry for help was suffocated by a mouthful of dirt and grass as overhead, jaws snapped empty air. Aaron gained his knees only to see that the hound had sailed right over him, for now it was there in front, facing him.

One look into those blood-red eyes and Aaron was frozen in place with fear. The hound was no hound at all, but some dark abomination come up from the Pit, with forked tongue, hair darker than night, and eyes that must reflect the fires of Hell. Each footfall of the creature as it slunk forward left behind a smoking paw print. Saliva dripping from its open mouth shriveled blades of grass. Try though he might, Aaron could not even retreat from its approach.

But then his hand, already poised at his belt, touched the hilt of the knife given to him by Ensel Rhe. That touch alone did something, for in the next instant the knife was clear of its sheath and Aaron stood. The hand that held the knife shook so badly Aaron very nearly dropped it, but he managed to maintain his grip even as he lifted its point. His other hand went to his chest to firmly grasp the tooth that still hung about his neck. Grabbing hold of it did nothing remarkable.

The dog eyed the small blade, but it did not stop its advance. Aaron had no choice but to yield ground. He stopped when he heard a deep-throated growl behind him. Turning, he came face-to-face with a second hound. Unable to move forward or back, Aaron positioned himself so that he could shift his gaze—and the point of his knife—from one hound to the other. He waited for one of them to attack. Instead, they both did.

Thoughts of using his knife were forgotten as Aaron threw his arms over his head and collapsed to the ground. Over him, the dogs collided in mid-air, then quickly fell to the ground in a snarling mass of fangs and fur. Aaron rolled away from them, lurching to his feet. He stumbled for the manor, risking only a single glance over his shoulder. He expected to see the hounds bounding after him. Instead, as if quarreling over a scrap of food, they'd turned on each other. Aaron ran. He made it ten steps when barking from behind signaled the hounds' awareness of his escape. They came, loping, bounding, reaching Aaron in seconds. One hit him from behind, slamming him to the ground as claws tore through his clothing and into the flesh beneath. The breath was knocked from him, stifling his instinctive cry. Burning saliva, dripping from jaws that drew closer by inches, ran down his neck. Aaron closed his eyes. Though his hand somehow still held tight to the knife, he could do nothing but wait for the end.

Then there was a thump, come from somewhere up high, a whoosh of air, and the world around Aaron exploded. The hound was hurled away and Aaron found himself heaved into the air only to slam right back down so that his breath, barely recovered, was forced from him again. Clumps of dirt showered down. Aaron wrapped his arms about his head as more thumps sounded. With each one came a corresponding whoosh as some projectile streaked through the air and then a thunk as the missile hit home. More than one hound let out a resounding yelp as they did so. It lasted half a minute, then the assault stopped. Aaron uncovered his face and opened his eyes. He immediately saw Ensel Rhe standing over him just as the eslar hauled him to his feet. Though Master Rhe's jacket was torn, the rest of him appeared intact. His khatesh remained drawn. The moment Aaron was able to stand on his own, the sword was joined by the eslar's other, shorter blade. Aaron saw the reason right away. The hounds remained, though they were a disorganized, rattled lot now. Many staggered, or whined without moving. Several lay on the ground. While these did not appear injured, they also seemed in no hurry to get up. Only a trio of the dogs remained unaffected at all by the assault of Ansanom's weapon. With the focus of hunters, these three padded forward, their hellish eyes locked only on their prey. Their master followed, striding through the wreckage of his pack with his terrible butcher's blade drawn. Ensel Rhe and Aaron stepped back steadily until they were at the door to Wildemoore Manor. Ensel Rhe slammed the hilt of his sword against the wood, yelling for someone inside to open it. Finally, they heard a lock come undone at the other side. The moment the knob clicked, Ensel Rhe leveled his shoulder at the door and plunged himself and Aaron through. A second after they'd stumbled inside, Aaron heard the door slam shut and a bar rammed home. Then everything went silent.

Witch's Interlude II

"HIS NAME IS KROSUS."

Ensel Rhe eyed Ursool wordlessly, then he asked, "Whose name?"

"The one who follows you. He is a houndmaster. With him come his dogs."

"Now you know something." Little under an hour had passed since their last exchange. While Ensel Rhe felt the tug of sleep, he shook it off now. "What has changed?"

"The moon, the stars, the proximity of him and his dogs. Together they form an alignment, an ethereal bit of knowledge escapes, and I, attuned to it, read of it what I can."

Ensel Rhe looked over a shoulder at the door, as if he expected the houndmaster to come smashing through it. "His proximity. How close?"

"Not that close. No need for you to wake Aaron and go rushing out. Besides, you are safer now, here in my home, than you will be once you leave. This demon cannot find you here."

"Demon?"

"Yes. Hellspawn, some would call him. Underland dweller, to others. My kind call them blood fiends, evil—"

"If he is demon, then I will need the tools to banish him."

Ursool snorted. "Not this one. He has been set to a task. For him, there is no banishment. Not until this chore of his has been completed."

Ensel Rhe sighed. "Need I ask the purpose of his summoning?"

Ursool leveled her gaze at the curtain separating Aaron from the room. "I think you know that already."

"Yes. We heard a horn. Aaron claimed it rendered him unable to move."

Ursool nodded. "He was Marked. When the demon is summoned, his prey must be named."

"But why? Why would anyone want this boy dead? Why go to so much trouble?"

Ursool had no answer to that.

"What else can you tell me of this hunter, then? What are his weaknesses? If I cannot banish him, then what?"

"He has come to our world. In order to do so, he must become flesh and blood. Look to your sword. You both speak the same language in that, at least."

Ensel Rhe scoffed. "Perhaps, but I am no demon." Then, after some reflection, his voice softened. "Though there are some who think otherwise."

"The folk of Norwynne?"

"Yes. I know what they say of me, even if they never did so directly."

"What of your traveling companion? Has he expressed any such misgivings?"

"No, though I've seen him eyeing my satchel on more than one occasion. I know what thoughts go through his head."

"What, then, have you done to dispel such musings? Have you made an effort to explain the satchel's purpose?"

"No. What am I to tell him?" Before Ursool could reply, he added, "It's better he never knows. There's no reason for him to know. Now, let us speak of something else."

Ensel Rhe rose to put another log on the fire. When he'd once again settled himself, Ursool said, "There is no greater force in this world than the quest for revenge."

The eslar flashed a look of annoyance. "I asked that we—"

"I do not speak of your son. I speak of Krosus. Hunter is only one of his guises. Also, he is Lord of Vengeance. He may have been summoned for the former, but he will do his duty as the latter… if the opportunity presents itself."

Ensel Rhe, placated, sat back at the explanation. After some rumination, he said, "It is a frightening thought. A demon, driven the same as I am. Such a fiend would never stop."

Ursool said nothing right away. When she did, it was only to say, "No, such a fiend never would."

14. Attunement

IGNORING THE FIRST SOUNDS OF thunder, Shanna made her way straight for the quarterdeck's railing where she thought at first to grab hold of the spider web of ropes, lean out over the edge, and hang on for dear life. She didn't, though, for as soon as she was close enough to see over the side her head swam and she nearly fell flat on her back. Only a quick grab at the ropes saved her.

"Pretty far up, huh?"

It was Tom, who looked as if he was about his duties but who stopped, if only for a moment.

"Yes, we are," Shanna said. "I thought the top of Graggly's Tower was high, but this…" She leaned out over the railing once more, looking at the ground below. Long, sloping hills were covered so densely with trees it looked like a bobbing sea of green. She leaned further out, trying to drink it all in. "This is amazing!" The words had barely escaped her lips when her grip on the ropes slipped. Only Tom's assistance saved her.

"Whoa! Careful!" he said, hauling her back. "We're with the wind now, so should mostly be a smooth ride. But you still need to watch yourself."

Shanna steadied herself with two hands on the railing.

"Don't worry. It took all of us a while to get used to it. But it's the future of travel. Cap'n says so! Here!" Tom reached into his shirt and pulled out a small pouch. From it, he took out a small block of something green. "Take this. With a storm coming, you'll likely need it sooner 'fore later. Just a smidgen. Put it between your lip and your gums. It'll last about half a day. Helps with the wobbles."

Shanna took it with a nod, sniffed at it, then put the cube in her pocket.

"Now," Tom said, "I better get back to it 'fore one of the mates sees me dawdling."

Shanna watched him jump down to the waist deck and disappear amongst the other airmen there.

Thunder boomed again, this time shaking the deck of the Griffin and sending a rolling vibration deep into the hull. The noise hastened the men into action as they prepared for the coming storm by tightening ropes and stowing anything that wasn't bolted down. Shanna remained on the quarterdeck, which was empty but for herself and the occasional mate busy at some task. She did her best to stay out of the way while she immersed herself in the thrill of it all. Never in her life would she have guessed that she'd partake in such a voyage. It was the stuff of dreams and wishes. She could only imagine how much someone might pay for such a privilege. A king's ransom, Shanna figured.

She was suddenly reminded of the prisoners. It was likely they did not share her present excitement. She knew they'd been brought onboard. Probably locked up somewhere below. She'd have to find out where and visit them, to let them know she was still working on a way to free them. Tom would know where they were being held. She resigned herself to ask about them the next time she ran into him.

Shanna spotted the dwarven chief at the bow of the ship. If not for the presence of two of his dwarves standing beside him, Shanna might have approached. She was just thinking she might do so anyway when the winds changed. The Griffin's bow heaved, cresting like a ship passing over a wave. The airship hung suspended like that as the winds assailed her, then she dropped and leveled off. Shanna, who'd just managed to grab hold of the deck's railing, was wondering if another assault was forthcoming when another gust answered her question. Again, the airship rose and fell. The moment it leveled off, Shanna took out the herbal cube given to her by Tom, broke off a smidge, and placed it in her mouth as instructed. She'd just shoved the remainder in her pocket when another gust hit the airship. Thunder cracked nearby, shaking the hull so that Shanna felt the vibrations course through her hands and feet and into the rest of her body.

It occurred to her that perhaps she should go below when Erlek, his sitheri guard in tow, emerged from the companionway. He took in the situation with a glance, then mounted the short flight of stairs separating the quarterdeck from the captain's perch. One snakeman remained at the foot of the stairs while the other followed Erlek up. The captain, whom Shanna had not seen up to this point, greeted the pair at the top. From the expression on his face it was immediately clear the man was not pleased to see Erlek. The captain was a tall, lean man, dressed in a heavy frock, with hair the color of walnut, chiseled features, and a stare that, though not directed at Shanna, still caused an uneasiness in her gut. Shanna thought nothing of eavesdropping, and so she took clumsy, unbalanced steps towards them while fighting down a growing unsettling in her stomach. The remedy was not working fast enough. The sitheri who guarded the stairs fixed its serpentine eyes on her, forcing Shanna to fight off a chill as she looked into their inhuman depths. But the snakeman, having no care for what she was about, turned its gaze from her and paid her no more attention. Shanna swallowed, taking the last few steps needed to hear the exchange going on above. She let her gaze sweep the length of the ship, pretending to have some interest in goings-on about there. Erlek and the captain were already deep into an argument.

"I am telling you we need to run out the landing stays and set down!" the captain said, shouting so that his words rose above the shriek of the wind. "She's holding her own for now, but these winds are growing stronger! Soon—"

Thunder cracked, drowning out the rest of his sentence.

"No!" Erlek said, once the thunder had rumbled away. "Get too close to the trees and you risk tearing the balloon! We cannot afford the repair time! We will stay the course! We will not land!"

"I'll not risk my ship—"

"You forget yourself, captain! Without me, there would be no ship! Now, stay your course! Take the Griffin above the clouds if you must, but get me to Cauldron Mountain!"

Sensing that Erlek was finished, Shanna cast a sidelong glance at the captain's perch where she saw the savant give the Griffin's commander his back. Shanna kept her eyes on the captain, wondering if he might try something. The snakeman who had followed Erlek must have thought the same thing, for it stood there after its master had descended to the quarterdeck, waiting and watching. If the captain had anything planned, he thought better of it, for he only flashed a look of disgust and turned away. Only then did the sitheri follow its master down.

With Erlek rapidly descending the stairs, Shanna realized she stood entirely too close to escape being accused of eavesdropping. A few hurried steps away from the stairs did nothing to change this and, as Erlek approached her directly rather than return belowdeck, Shanna prepared herself for a scolding. None was forthcoming. Erlek did not even spare her a glance. The whole of his attention was on the approaching storm. When he placed his boney fingers upon the railing, too close to Shanna's hands, she eased hers away, crossing her arms across her chest. She hoped the Griffin might remain steady, at least for a little while.

"They are trying to stop me," Erlek said, almost too soft for Shanna to hear above the wind. Then it started to rain cold, wet drops that did not pitter-patter at all but came down in a sudden cascade. The balloon protected them from the worst of it, though the gusting wind still sent fat drops at them in sideways fashion. Airmen rushed by, running fore and aft as they continued to see to the airship's needs and stay one step ahead of the storm. Shanna did not envy them. Except to raise his voice enough for Shanna to hear, Erlek went on as if there'd been no change at all. "Trying to stop us. Risen from the grave by the invocation of the Element's power, they will do all they can to keep us from our task. But we will not let them stop us. We will prevail."

Shanna didn't know whom Erlek was talking about, nor did she particularly care right now. As more rain slapped her in the face, she really only wanted to get out of the weather. But Erlek still had need of an audience.

"If only we already had the Element of Air in our possession," he said, "we could sweep away these winds like a child's plaything." He waved one hand across the sky, as if such movement might demonstrate the desired effect. "Soon, all of the Elements will be ours. Then let them come. Let them try and stop me." Erlek went silent. Then, as if noticing Shanna for the first time, he asked, "Where is Mirna?"

The words had barely escaped Erlek's lips when a voice answered behind them.

"Here."

Startled, Shanna turned to find Mirna there, with head bowed, ready to serve.

Erlek grunted in satisfaction, then he gathered his robes, wet now, and returned belowdeck. His guard followed.

Shanna turned to Mirna. "Where did you go?" she asked, not angry, only curious. She'd not seen the woman since they'd parted company in Erlek's cabin.

"I thought it best to prepare your room for you, mi—Shanna. It awaits you." She bowed, ignoring the rainwater that pelted her gown.

"Let's go, then," Shanna said. "No point in staying out here getting wet."

The moment Shanna and Mirna reached the cabin the storm turned worse. Though they had no window in which to monitor its progress, they felt its ferocity in the way the ship heaved, lifted, and swayed. It was a maddening thing, to sit helpless while the elements decided one's fate, but there was nothing to be done for it.

The cabin was as small as promised. Deeper than it was wide, there was room only for a single hammock that swung with the movement of the ship and a small writing desk and chair. Shanna's belongings—not hers, really, but the things that had been present in the wagon—had been brought onboard and stowed away neatly between a small chest bolted to the floor and a stack of drawers built into one wall. Mirna, who seemed unaffected by the storm's violence, occupied the chair where she worked at mending a shirt. Lit candles cast shadows in time with the movement of her needle as Shanna, mesmerized, watched the rise and fall of the woman's hand. At first Shanna had thought Mirna meant to room with her. She wasn't against the idea at all, though once she'd seen the size of the room she had to admit it'd be a tight squeeze. But Shanna soon learned that Mirna had a small space of her own further belowdeck. Though she began to leave for it now, Shanna asked the woman to keep her company for a time. While Shanna didn't feel like talking, she also did not feel like being alone. Mirna offered no argument.

At one point, heavy boots clambered by outside the door. An airman shouted for all passengers to 'batten down'. Shanna wondered who else the man was addressing other than herself, then she realized the dwarves likely bunked nearby. Despite the storm and the jerking movement of the ship, something about the swaying motion finally lulled Shanna to sleep.

She woke hours later. As she lifted herself from the haze of sleep, she noticed Mirna remained in her chair, though she was done with her mending. She found the woman staring at her, her expression a mask, emotionless. Shanna looked away, but still she felt Mirna's gaze on her. There was something in the woman's eyes that made Shanna uncomfortable. Keeping her gaze averted, she made a display of yawning, then swung her legs over the edge of the cot. The moment her feet touched the floor she noticed how stable the airship felt. The storm had passed. Shanna risked another glance at Mirna. Whatever she'd seen—or thought she'd seen—was gone now.

"What time is it?" Shanna asked. She saw they'd burned through at least one candle, though Mirna had lit more. It was an unaccustomed luxury. Back home, Shanna often had to make a single candle last a week or more.

"It is night." Mirna stood. "Master Nee has requested you attend him the moment you wake. He felt you would need what sleep you could get for what lies ahead and bid me not wake you."

Shanna spied a nearby washbasin. It was empty, but there was a bar of soap, a towel, and a stoppered flask full of water that Shanna used to fill the basin and wash. Once she was done, she started towards the door. "Let's go." Mirna followed without a sound.

They found the door to Erlek's cabin unguarded. Inside, he was alone. Seeing the man reminded Shanna of those locked away somewhere below. She scolded herself, renewing her vow to go find them at the first opportunity. They needed to know she was still thinking of them. More importantly, that she hadn't forgotten them and that she would free them. Never mind that, aloft as they were, there was nowhere to go. Nevertheless, Shanna resigned to at least find and visit them the moment she left Erlek's cabin.

The savant stood to one side, before the table where the Element of Earth lay. His back was to them. Mirna, as if responding to some unspoken command, bowed and, without turning, left. She quietly shut the door behind her.

"Earth," Erlek said immediately, "is the most powerful of the Elements. Fire does not harm it, air merely disperses and relocates it, and water only turns it to mud whereupon, when dry, it returns to its original state."

Not sure how to respond or even if she was supposed to, Shanna remained quiet.

"Water," Erlek said, "is the most powerful of Elements. While fire may turn it to steam, it is only a temporary state change. Air bothers it little, while earth is permeated and turned to mud." Erlek turned to face her. "And so on. Do you see the flaw in what I have said?"

Shanna thought for a moment. "No."

"I have claimed the same supremacy for two different things. I spoke of water's effect on earth and earth's on water. On one hand, water was dominant. On the other, earth. So which is it?"

Again, Shanna took a moment to think. "Neither."

"Yes." Erlek moved to the chair he had occupied during their last visit. "Good." He sat. "In our world, the elements coexist together in a strong balance. Though one may gain dominion over another for a period of time, no element can truly ever destroy or rule another. This is law."

"What about when you put a fire out with water?" Shanna asked. "The fire is gone."

Erlek nodded. "True. But is it gone for good? It might not spring up in that same place, but it will elsewhere, given time. Fire is energy and energy cannot be destroyed. Here." Erlek sprang from the chair to move to the desk where a sheet of parchment was laid out. With deft movements, he sketched something with a charcoal pencil, then motioned Shanna closer. Shanna moved as close as she needed to in order to see what he had drawn, but no closer. She saw four symbols: a triangle, a circle, a set of lines drawn slanted and parallel to one another, and last, a second triangle, this one turned upside down with a line drawn through it. Each of the symbols was drawn roughly equidistant to the other and arranged so that Erlek next drew lines connecting each with every other one so that all combinations were satisfied. "Each one of these glyphs represents one of the elements. You see, there is balance amongst them. A powerful unity. These lines I have drawn, they are the bonds connecting them. They cannot be severed."

Erlek continued talking, but Shanna wasn't listening. She did recognize the symbols. Deep below Norwynne, where great doors opened to a hall whose floor sparkled with gemstones and, beyond, the chamber where she'd seen the glyphs. Thinking back to that episode, she'd found the room and its contents thoroughly unremarkable. But now, as she looked at the drawn symbols, the entire affair took on new significance. Still, what was so important about that place? Shanna had no intention of asking Erlek, nor would she tell him anything about it. For now, she had to know more. She returned her attention to the savant.

"…important you know this and understand. Your mind must be attuned to the world around you. You must accept a great deal on faith alone, for we haven't the time to start with any sort of formal training. The Elements will respond to a spirit that is one with theirs. That in itself is enough to invoke them. But it is not enough to control them."

"How do I control them, then?" Shanna asked.

"Through courage, faith, determination… discipline of the mind and an acceptance of your place in the world. Some of this may seem abstract to you now. We will explore these concepts and more over the next two days."

"Why only two days?"

"Because that is all the time we have before reaching Cauldron Mountain. There, we will find the Element of Fire. You must be ready to use the Element of Earth by then, for you will need its power to free the other. Now, enough of that. One thing at a time. Come. Stand and face the Element."

Shanna did so. It remained wholly unremarkable. A simple clay bowl. She'd stood close to it before, but this time was different, for Erlek next asked her to reach out and touch it.

"Hold it if you like," he said.

Shanna took a deep breath. Her heart set a thundering tempo in her chest. Then she reached out with both hands. As her fingers neared the edge of the bowl, a tingling sensation permeated her fingertips. Goose bumps flew up her arms and a chill swept across her skin. She shuddered, then pulled her hands away.

"You have nothing to fear," Erlek said, looking on. "The Element is yours to command."

Shanna took another deep breath and tried again. This time, when the sensation returned, she let it sweep through her. Then, resolute, she touched the Element. Nothing happened. No flare of brilliance, no burst of light. Not even a vibration. Nothing. It felt cool to the touch and smooth. Neither sensation was terribly unusual, for it was an earthenware bowl, after all. Not for the first time, Shanna thought that perhaps that was all it was: a simple piece of crockery, destined to hold someone's soup and not control one of the forces of nature. She cast a sidelong glance at Erlek, wondering if she might find him laughing at the joke he'd played on her. She wondered at just how stupid she looked right now, so full of hesitance over touching a piece of kitchenware. But there was nothing but seriousness and curiosity in the man's face. Then, also, there was the tingling she felt at its touch. That much of it was real regardless of what other possibilities her mind thought up. Shanna returned her attention to the Element. She swallowed, taking long, deep breathes in a vain attempt to slow her rapidly beating heart. Then, before procrastination prevented her from taking action any longer, she picked it up. Held in her hands, it felt no different than any other bowl. Perhaps thinner, more fragile, its weight thoroughly unimpressive. The tingling sensation running from the bowl and into her fingers persisted, neither increasing nor abating.

"Hold it steady," Erlek said as he drew close enough that his presence lifted the hairs on the back of Shanna's neck. "You have a head start in its mastery. I see that already. Your attunement is much greater than I had hoped or imagined. It is no wonder Elsanar…" The last seemed no more than a silent muse given voice as the man's speech tapered to a whisper and then silence, leaving the thought unfinished.

Shanna hardly noticed, for only one word of his had piqued Shanna's interest. "Attunement?"

"Yes," Erlek said from over her shoulder. "Attunement is about balance and harmony. It is, at its most fundamental level, a synchronicity between an individual and one's self. Sorcery and those who claim mastery of the psyche spring from this idiom. But there is more. We each possess a quantifiable amount of energy within us. This energy can be tapped into, drawn forth, manipulated, even made material. But it is finite. How could it be anything else? We are but mortals. Therein lies the greatest limitation of sorcery and its ilk. Oh, they practice Joinings, make their staves, and do such and such with repositories of energy, but always there exists limitations to such things. The energy of Uhl, however, the power of the earth, is without limit. If one could attune themselves to such power… . Of all those who have tried, only the druids ever succeeded. The founders of their Hierocracy recognized right away the inherent dangers of possessing power without boundaries and so they instilled their own. Thus was born the Druidic Oath, a sacred trust and, even more, a promise to serve the earth and never to abuse it. No mere pledge, they wrapped their energies and each individual's attunement into the Oath, so that anyone who took and then broke it would find their attunement altered, changed so that they were rendered powerless."

"Is that what happened to the elementalists?" Shanna asked.

"The elementalists sacrificed their attunement with the earth for something greater: attunement with the Four Elements."

"But—" Shanna thought for a moment. "How can I be attuned to anything? I'm not—I mean, I was never—"

"The bond of attunement is a complex one. It exists on a mental, physical, even a metaphysical level. You, as I have said before, are a child of the elementalists. Something of what they were exists within you. To delve any further into this would require more time than we have. Now, you are to begin your training."

Guessing at what Erlek desired of her, Shanna pulled the Element of Earth closer, so the rim of it just touched her chest. "How do I… invoke it?" she asked, hoping she used the right terminology.

Erlek chuckled as he moved away. "I cannot yet allow you to do such a thing, for doing so would draw our enemies to us like a moth to a flame."

Shanna turned on him. "Then how am I supposed to—"

"Make no mistake, we are hunted. For now, flying so high and at such speed, we remain elusive and undetected. But, invoke the Element, and you broadcast to the world our locale. That is something we do not want. Not yet. As for how you are to learn to control the Element… For now, put it down, and come here to the desk."

Shanna did not obey right away. She remained where she was, the Element of Earth held close. She did not want to put it down. This did not go unnoticed by Erlek.

"Part of our arrangement," he said, "involves you doing as you are told, does it not?"

The man's tone allowed no rebuke, and so Shanna returned the bowl to the table. But she did so slowly. Even when it was no longer in her grasp, still her fingers lingered along its rim, absorbing the strange tingling sensation as if it were a drug. Finally, she broke away from it and went to the desk as instructed.

"Sit," Erlek said as he hovered over the opposite side shuffling papers.

Shanna sat.

"I have a lesson planned for you."

She immediately stood up. "You have a what?"

"Sit!"

Shanna did.

"Your thought process—your way of thinking—must be honed. We have little time with which to work. You already possess the physical capacity to invoke the Element. You would have felt nothing from it if you did not. But your mental and spiritual faculties are matters we need address. Here I have written a number of problems." Erlek thumbed through a small stack of papers. "I do not expect you to solve every one of them, but each should help shape your thought process." He selected one of the sheets, then put it down in front of Shanna along with a charcoal pencil. "Examine what I have written carefully. Write your answer beneath each problem. You may begin." Erlek started to walk away, but then he stopped and turned to her with a narrowed gaze. "You can read, can't you? And write?"

Shanna almost said 'no' to both. She wondered if she did if Erlek would then proceed to give her a lesson in those more rudimentary subjects. She glanced at the paper in front of her. There were short sections of text with space between each. The bottommost lesson, which took up the bottom third of the page, was made up of labeled diagrams with lines and circles and several blocks of text Erlek had headed with the word 'posits'. Better to lie, she thought, to tell him she'd never been taught either skill. Better that than have to work on Erlek's lessons. If not for her pride, she would have. "Of course I know how to read and write."

"And mathematics? You know the subjects of algebra, numerical analysis, and probability?"

"Of course I do," Shanna said, lying this time. "I was top of my class… before you destroyed the classroom."

Erlek accepted her response with a nod. "Then begin."

Shanna read through the problem: 'A farmer has thirty chickens and cows'. Shanna looked up from the paper in confusion. "What do chickens and cows have to do with anything?"

Erlek had moved to sit upon the divan a short distance away where he'd just begun thumbing through a book. He did not look up as he spoke. "The chickens and cows are simply part of the logic problem."

It seemed all the explanation she was to get. Shanna started reading the problem again. 'A farmer has thirty chickens and cows. Together, they have seventy-six legs'. She didn't read the rest, for at that moment her mind was filled with the image of a great monster, part-cow and part-chicken, with a farmer's head and seventy-six legs. She almost giggled. If not for Erlek's presence she would have. Of course, she realized, if not for Erlek's presence she wouldn't be sitting here reading about chickens and cows. She looked over the other sheets Erlek had left on the desk. The problems written there were all of a similar nature, though some had diagrams with lines and circles and small numbers written here and there. She didn't see how any of this was going to help her use the Element. It was a waste of time and stupid, too. If Aaron were here, she'd slip him her papers and he'd have them solved in no time. Aaron reveled in such things. He'd run circles around Erlek, solving the old man's stupid logic problems and probably coming up with a few of his own that'd leave Erlek scratching his bald head in confusion. Shanna smiled at the thought of it.

She started doodling to at least make it appear as if she were working. What she was really doing was thinking of Aaron and of home. She missed Aaron’s companionship. And home—she tried to think of why she missed home. She gave it a full minute before she gave up, unable to come up with a single reason. There were some things: the rollicking through the alleyways, the games of crutchit, the respect and awe she inspired because of her daring, defiance, and simple ability to thumb her nose at the rules time and time again. But things had been changing of late. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but she knew they were. She was getting older, with new responsibilities, and it seemed those days of finishing her chores and having the rest of the day to herself were fast waning. It had started with her apprenticeship under Nora. How she'd detested that woman and her work ethic. Up before dawn, working in that hot, cramped chamber in the Underkeep with its vats of boiling oil and scented herbs that Shanna had to clean and chop and grind until her arms felt like they might fall off. Her blood boiled just thinking of it all. But that life was over. Her home was gone. Nora was dead. Shanna had a new life ahead of her now, a new purpose, and—

"You are not making very good progress."

So lost in her thoughts, Shanna had not noticed Erlek rise from the divan nor had she noticed his approach as he now stood hovering over her shoulder.

"Because I don't know what to do." She almost told him right there what she thought of his 'logic problems', but she bit her tongue and kept it to herself. She didn't want to provoke the man unnecessarily. She still needed to learn from him.

"It is a basic mathematical problem. See here, you need two equations to solve this particular—"

He went on and on, nothing of what he said having any meaning to Shanna. As he delved deeper, he quizzed her periodically. He was halfway through an explanation of the second when, after she'd failed to answer a single question of his correctly, he stopped.

Erlek sighed. "What did Elsanar teach you then? Let us start there."

"He didn't teach me anything. I already told you, I didn't have anything to do with Elsanar."

"Yes, but surely he must have instructed you, perhaps in subtle fashion through a tutor or—"

"No."

"He must have recognized your potential and would have readied you—"

"No, again."

Erlek let out a second sigh. "It seems we must start at a more fundamental level then." He swept away the papers in front of her, then he went to a bookshelf that had been empty during her last visit but which was now lined with leather bound books. The spines on many of them were identical and marked with only a number whose value rose sequentially from left to right. Aaron used a similar numbering system on his journals, though he had far fewer on his bookshelf. Erlek passed over all of those as he selected one at a lower shelf. Returning with it already open to a particular page, he placed the book before her.

"I think we shall take a different approach. This is not mathematics. It is a dissertation on metaphysical connections and theories concerning attunement written by a man named Jeddar Fruke, a scholar of Seacea who died some two hundred years ago. It is one man's view of things, but I have found many of his theorems to be quite accurate. It is as good a place as any for you to begin."

Shanna looked over the page with a sour look on her face. The type was small. Line after line of text made the reading very unattractive.

"Now," Erlek said, "I have business with the captain, and shan't return for an hour or more. Do not leave the room. If you need anything, see that Mirna fetches it for you. I expect to have seen significant progress upon my return."

He'd almost left when Shanna remembered she had commitments of her own. "Wait! I want to see the people from Norwynne, to make sure they're alright."

"You have reason to think they are otherwise?" Erlek asked.

"No, but I'd still like to see them, to talk to them."

Erlek thought for a moment. "Very well. But only after I've returned. For now, see to your reading."

With that, he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Shanna immediately pushed her chair away and, leaving the book on the desk, plopped herself down on the cushioned divan. She stretched, making no effort to remain quiet about it. Then she just lay there for a few precious moments, not caring if Erlek returned right then and there. She had an hour. An hour she did not intend to waste reading some crusty old book written by some crusty old scholar. She'd made a promise to Jadjin and the others that she intended to keep. She'd not wait another minute—let alone an hour—to see it fulfilled. Suddenly charged with purpose, Shanna jumped up. The first order of business was where to find them. She could wander the airship and possibly get in trouble for poking her nose where it didn't belong, or she could find Tom and have him show her. As tempting as it sounded to explore the ship on her own, she chose the latter approach. Better if she didn't attract attention to herself, something she was sure to do if she were seen wandering around by herself with no earthly idea where she was going. Besides, she only had an hour. She'd best make the most of it.

She crept across the room to the door, cautiously sticking her head out. The coast was clear. Gently shutting the door behind her, she tiptoed down the hall and abruptly stopped when she realized she'd no idea where Tom might be. She thought a moment. She might not know where he was, but she knew exactly where to start looking.

She found the berthing, a large space thick with swinging hammocks, further belowdeck about mid-ship. Many of the airmen slept, for they'd been occupied with the storm and were understandably weary from their efforts. Not all, though, for a few huddled at the room's center. Shanna silently approached them. A quick peek over a shoulder revealed a familiar sight. Crutchit dice. Much to Shanna's relief, Tom was amongst the players. He spotted her, too. With a smile on his face, he ushered her from the berthing so they could speak without having to whisper.

"Hello, Shanna!" Tom said with genuine enthusiasm. "Come to try your hand?" He tossed a thumb in the direction of the game.

Ordinarily, she'd already have elbowed her way in. But she'd not come here to play games. "No," she said. "I came to ask a favor."

"Oh?"

"I need you to show me where they're holding the prisoners. The ones who came onboard the same time I did."

Tom thought a moment. "I'm not so sure—"

"Please, Tom. I don't want to get you in trouble, but I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"Oh, there'll be no trouble over it. It's just that… well, that's where the savant sets up his lab. It’s not a pleasant thing to see all laid out. I chanced upon it once. Thought it best not to do so again."

Tom was right. Shanna had seen the lab with her own eyes. She knew what went on there. Still, none of that was supposed to be happening now. Erlek had promised.

"Tom, I have to get down there to make sure they're alright. If Erlek's done anything to them…" She'd kill him, sooner than planned. No matter how since she could not command the Element presently, but she'd find a way.

Tom, responding to the urgency in her voice, agreed to show her the way.

The laboratory was setup much like before, though this time with just a single table laden with glass containers, tubules, and instruments all secured in place against the movement of the airship. There was also the examination table which, the last time Shanna had seen it, had held Corrin. At one corner of the room was a cage. Inside were her folk. As they approached with only Tom's small lantern for light, Shanna saw something that had not been present in the previous laboratory. Whatever it was, it was as big as a wagon and covered in canvas so that Shanna saw only bits and pieces of metal shining from the faint light. Curious, she lifted a corner of the covering. She saw gears and pistons and what she guessed to be strange looking vats. Copper tubes ran everywhere. Shanna let the canvas fall into place, then she returned her attention to those in the cage. They greeted her with squinted, tired gazes. Only Jadjin greeted her arrival with anything close to a smile.

The place stank. Shanna spotted a chamber pot inside the cage. It was obvious it had not been emptied of late. Worse, last night's storm had spilled some of its contents across the floor. That, and the unwashed prisoners' bodies still smelling heavily of the floodwaters almost made Shanna turn around in search of fresh air.

Jadjin offered no verbal greeting this time. Nala and the man Shanna still had no name for huddled close together. Rail, who'd taken a corner of the cell for himself, peered at Shanna with something akin to a blank stare, except that Shanna saw a certain recognition—and a certain disappointment—in it. The army man, Sergeant Tippin, whose mustache was now a greasy smudge across his unshaven face, stood as well as he could in the shortened cell and, gripping the bars with each hand, asked, "Have you come with the keys?"

As one, the others' faces lit up in expectation of her answer. They were already convinced she carried them, for why else would she be here?

Why else, indeed, Shanna thought. It was with regret and a fair amount of shame she told them that no, she hadn't come to free them. Not yet. "I'm here to make sure you're alright. I know what happened to the others, but it isn't going to happen to any of you. I made a deal with the savant. As long as I do what he says, he won't hurt you."

"A deal?" Tippin again. "Does this deal involve getting us out of this cell?"

"Well, no. The savant didn't say anything about freeing you. Not yet, at least. Though there really isn't anywhere to go. We're on an airship and—oh, but you saw that when they brought you onboard, didn't you? We're…" Shanna looked to Tom, thinking to ask their elevation, when instead she realized she hadn't introduced him. "This is Tom."

Sergeant Tippin was not interested in exchanging pleasantries. His face betrayed his growing annoyance.

"This has gone on long enough, girl. You were supposed to have been working on getting us freed, not gallivanting about with some ship's boy or making deals with the man who laid waste to our home."

"I have not been gallivanting about. Tom showed me the way down here. If he hadn't, I might not even be here right now. As far as the deal—it's the only thing keeping you alive right now. You think you'd be a bit more appreciative."

"I'll be plenty appreciative when you get us out of this cell, get a sword into my hand, and we take control of this ship."

That last statement caused Tom to stand up on his tip-toes. "Ah, excuse me, sir, but if you mean to harm my cap'n—"

"Shut up, boy." Tippin directed himself at Shanna. "Now, the old man keeps the key to our cell on his person. I saw him—"

"Don't tell him to shut up," Shanna said. The sergeant's sudden hostility had thrown her off, but only for a moment. "You shut up."

It was Tippin's turn to pause as the full measure of Shanna's words sank in. Once they had, his look of annoyance became one of anger.

"Look here, girl—"

"My name isn't 'girl'. Nor is his 'boy'. Maybe you should be a little bit nicer or I may just—"

"What? What might you do, girl?"

"That's enough, both of you! This helps none of us." It was Jadjin who interrupted. "Now, Shanna makes a good point. Even if we were free, where would we go? We're onboard an airship, already how many leagues from home? Forget any notions of taking over the ship, sergeant! There is only the one of you. Even if the airmen are helpless, which I doubt they are, there are still the dwarves to contend with." The healer woman paused to take a breath. "We are being treated fairly. We've been given food and water—"

"Only because the savant wants us fit and healthy before he sucks the life from us," Tippin said.

"—but could perhaps do with a few additional essentials. Do you think you could get us some clean linen, fresh water, and soap, Shanna?"

She nodded. "Yes." It was a good thing the healer was here otherwise Shanna was quite sure she would have stormed off already.

"Good. In the meanwhile, we shall simply have to wait this ordeal out until we get to wherever it is we are going. Do you know where we are going?"

"Yes, I do. Erlek—the savant—said we are going to a place called Cauldron Mountain. I don't know anything about it, except that…" Shanna was suddenly uncertain as to how much she should reveal. Should she tell them about the Elements? Should she reveal the part Erlek wanted her to play in their recovery? Should she tell them what Erlek planned to do with them once he'd recovered them all? The last was something Shanna didn't even know the answer to. "Except that he said we'd be there in a few days." Best to keep her part in this a secret for now, until she understood it more herself.

Shanna promised to bring them the requested items, then she followed Tom through the lab. Tippin said nothing as she left, though his look of disgust said enough. Only Jadjin wished her well. Even that was in a half-hearted voice.

She let Tom bring her all the way to Erlek's cabin lest she somehow get lost and arrive late. A quick thank you sent Tom back to his duties or his game of crutchit, leaving Shanna alone once more. The book Erlek had set out for her remained on the page where she'd left it. She did not return to it. Instead she sat on the divan, crossed her arms, and did nothing at all.

15. Wildemoore Manor

AARON STARED UP AT THE shadows dancing across the far-off ceiling. He didn't care that the floor was hard on his back, nor that the anteroom was cold. His clothes were wet and uncomfortable, but the room was dry, clean, and quiet in a mesmerizing sort of way. He heard only his own breathing and Ensel Rhe's, who lay next to him where he'd fallen. Not injured, Aaron didn't think, but not moving, either. They'd made it. Not only that, but for the first time in a long time they were neither running away from anything nor being chased. Aaron could almost imagine life was normal again. Letting out a deep breath, he settled himself into a more comfortable position. He wanted nothing more than to remain just like this for a long, long—

"Hello."

The voice came out of nowhere, startling Aaron and causing him to instinctively drop his head to the floor, but too fast. "Ow!"

"Oops!"

Aaron heard a small giggle.

"Sorry."

Aaron looked up through a kaleidoscope of dancing stars, not at the ceiling this time but at the face of a girl. The girl stood over him, her face lit by a wide smirk and a bright glint of amusement that rose from the depths of her crystal blue eyes. If she really was sorry, she wasn't doing a very good job of showing it.

"Hello," she said again.

Aaron let his dazed stare wander over her. She was no older than he, with blond hair tied into a pony tail and skin so fair it told of too much time indoors. She wore a simple gown, deep green in color, with a slim belt tied at her waist. Aaron figured her for part of Ansanom's household staff. An apprentice wasn't out of the question, either, though he'd never heard any mention of Ansanom having an apprentice or even an assistant, for that matter.

"Hello," Aaron said in response, the stars starting to fade.

She smiled and might have been about to say something else when, next to Aaron, Ensel Rhe finally stirred. The eslar stood in one fluid motion. Aaron followed suit, though his was a demonstration with far less grace. Once standing, he absentmindedly felt his head where it had impacted with the floor. While most of the pain was gone, a dull throbbing remained.

"Do you have fleas?" the girl asked.

"What?" He let his hand fall to his side.

"I asked if you have fleas. You're scratching like you do. I thought maybe you got some, you know, from the dogs." A smile started forming on her lips. It was accompanied by a sputtering of giggles that Aaron suspected might break into full laughter at any moment.

Aaron screwed his face in an expression of shock and annoyance. "No, I don't have fleas. I wasn't scratching, either. You made me hit my head."

"Yes, I saw that. You need to be more careful."

Before Aaron could form a reply she shifted her attention to the eslar.

"Master Rhe," she said, "always a pleasure to see you." She effected a jestful bow. Ensel Rhe ignored any intended slight, replying to her greeting with only his usual narrowed gaze. The girl looked at Aaron. "I hope you haven't had to travel far with him. As you can see, he's not much for conversation."

Aaron opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. Instead he looked about the anteroom, hoping in the meanwhile the girl would go away. There was only faint light here, which explained why they'd seen no signs of life from the outside despite the windows right above the main door. Opposite that door was a wide stair: ornate balustrades ushered polished wooden steps up to a tapestry hung landing that was empty one moment and occupied the next as the master of Wildemoore Manor hobbled into view. Immediately, the girl ran to him, to offer assistance it turned out, for even with the girl's aid Ansanom's descent was taken one slow step at a time. Aaron used the time to study the sorcerer who had been his master's confidante and collaborator. He wore trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a lab vest much like Aaron's, all of which marked him more as a tinkerer or inventor than a wizard. Aaron knew he was all of those things, though. Like Elsanar, Ansanom was old, though Aaron couldn't remember his master ever having so much trouble with stairs. It was a wonder the old man had made it up them in time to lend his assistance and no doubt the reason the dogs had nearly been at his doorstep before he'd responded. Perhaps it was only bad knees, for he looked sturdy enough otherwise, being neither tall nor lean, but thick-chested, with strong hands that bore the telltale signs of someone accustomed to working with their hands.

"It's happened then, hasn't it?" he asked, eyes sheltered behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles darting from Ensel Rhe to Aaron and then back again. He'd not yet dismounted the last of the steps. "Your presence here can mean nothing else. Are you alone? Is it only you two?"

"Elsanar is not with us," Ensel Rhe said, guessing at the line of the man's questioning. "Norwynne has been laid waste. Many were killed, including Elsanar and his coterie."

The words sent Ansanom into a swoon. Only his housemaid—or whatever she was—kept him from sinking to the floor. Aaron rushed to help, supporting his other side. With some effort, the two of them lowered the old wizard into a sitting position upon the stairs. It took him some small moments to regain himself, time he spent quiet and still, with his strong, wrinkled hands resting lightly on his knees. Then, sighing, he lifted a finger to push his spectacles back from the tip of his nose. "You will have to excuse me. The news you bring is most distressing." He fixed Ensel Rhe with a pointed stare. "How? How did it happen? You must tell me. Leave nothing out."

Ensel Rhe opened his mouth to speak but Ansanom's sudden raised hand stopped him.

"Forgive me! The news you bring is a shock. We so seldom receive visitors that I fear I have completely forgotten my manners." With effort and some assistance, Ansanom stood. "Perhaps introductions are not necessary? In any case, I am Ansanom, master of Wildemoore Manor, and this is my apprentice, Serena."

Apprentice? Not a housemaid, then. Aaron hoped her magical skills were coming along better than her skill as a greeter. Serena flashed Aaron a brilliant smile which he did not feel compelled to acknowledge.

"Ensel Rhe, I know," Ansanom said. "It is good to see you again, my friend. While the wear of the road is evident upon you, still it warms my heart to see you in one piece." Ansanom smiled, a quick gesture that melted into seriousness as he turned his gaze upon Aaron. "You, of course, are Aaron, assistant to Elsanar—to the late Elsanar—and the young adept who single-handedly advanced our work in combinatory energy by leaps and bounds."

Aaron bowed his head, all too aware that all eyes were on him. "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir," Aaron said. "Thank you for letting us into your home."

Ansanom's face lit up. "Such manners!" He threw a glance at his apprentice. "Take note, Serena. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two."

Serena flashed the man a sour expression.

"Now," Ansanom said, "let's get you inside. Come! I can see that you are both cold and wet and no doubt famished, too. Accept my apologies for making you wait this long."

The old sorcerer had barely started shuffling away when Ensel Rhe's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"What of the hounds?"

Master Ansanom fixed his guests with a stare. "As long as you remain within these walls, they'll be no bother. Come morning, we'll have to deal with them. My compression canon startled them, didn't it?" He smiled. "Always wondered if that particular invention would ever prove its worth. I dare say that now it has. In any case, for the time being, let the dogs trouble you no more. Now, come! Serena! Fetch hot water and towels. Then bring tea!" The girl scampered into action. "Aaron, Ensel Rhe, if you will follow me. I'm afraid I move a tad slow. Age has rendered too many of my joints arthritic."

Ansanom led them through a closed door off one side of the stairs. Though the room beyond was dark initially, a wave of the sorcerer's hand ignited a blazing fire within a stone fireplace. Chairs surrounding a large, square table set at the center of the chamber were revealed. Ansanom waved at them to sit. They obliged him the moment they'd spread out jacket and cloak across the hearth to dry. They'd been seated only a few minutes when Serena emerged with a tray holding towels and two small washbasins. She set one of the basins in front of each of them along with a towel, then went to fetch the tea. Water in the basins was hot and felt immeasurably good to Aaron as he wet the towel and washed his hands and face. Ensel Rhe did the same. Ansanom remained quiet, lost in the flickering of the fire. By the time they were done, Serena had returned with another tray, this one arranged with fine ceramic cups and a steaming kettle that quickly filled the room with the scent of cinnamon.

"Ah, the tea!" Ansanom said, pushing himself closer to the table.

Serena set the tray down and then carefully filled each of the teacups, handing them out to the guests first and then Ansanom. She smiled at Aaron as she placed a cup in front of him. Aaron, still unsure what to make of her, managed a quick smile in return. Serena took none of the tea for herself, nor did she take a seat at the table, instead choosing to stand in attendance close to the fire.

"Months ago," Ansanom said as his guests drank, "I offered to take Elsanar and anyone else he felt was in danger into my home. Wildemoore is such an out of the way place that few know or care to come this far. It saddens me that Elsanar never took me up on my offer, though I am immeasurably glad that you two have." Ansanom leaned in his chair and removed his glasses. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Elsanar and I corresponded often. You know this well enough, Ensel Rhe, for you carried many of our communications to and fro. Relevant to current circumstances was one such letter in which Elsanar made mention of a man named Erlek Abn Nee. The name may or may not be his real one, which is unto itself more important than one might think, for it is the man's past which concerned Elsanar very much."

"The name is familiar," Ensel Rhe said. "We learned of him sometime after your warning about the first assassin. We—myself and Aaron—suspect a connection between Erlek, the assassins, and what happened to Norwynne."

Ansanom's eyes opened. "A connection, eh?" He thought for a moment before concurring. "No doubt, I think. No doubt." He sat up, returning his glasses to their perch on his nose in the same motion. "Perhaps you should tell me of recent events. Serena, sit. We may be here for some time."

As Serena took a chair next to Aaron, Ensel Rhe related events as he knew them, starting with the warning of assassins he carried from Wildemoore to Norwynne to the tremors and subsequent flooding that had waylaid the city. From there, he spoke of their escape and subsequent pursuit by the hounds. Aaron remained quiet, reliving the events in his own mind and shifting uncomfortably more than once when memories of the many deaths—Shanna's in particular—returned to him.

Ansanom, like Aaron, remained quiet, listening attentively and moving only to lift his teacup to his lips. The moment Ensel Rhe fell silent, though, he jumped in.

"Let us first speak briefly of the hounds, for their role in all of this is probably the least and therefore our discussion of them the briefest. Only powerful, eldritch magic could have summoned them into our world. I do not believe there is any doubt that Erlek Abn Nee was the one who did this. The hounds' master, a demon named Krosus, cannot be killed, for he is not truly alive. The pack he leads is tenacious. I'm afraid nothing short of their prey's death will stop them. In this hunt, that prey is you, Aaron."

The sound of his name caused Aaron to straighten in his chair. "But why?"

"Because Erlek Abn Nee fears you, Aaron," Ansanom said. "He fears you above all others. He lies awake at night thinking of the utter ruin you might bring to all of his carefully conceived plans if only you learned the truth about yourself."

Aaron swallowed. "What truth?"

"The truth of who and what you really are."

"What do you mean?" Aaron rubbed his palms—suddenly sweaty—across his pants. All eyes were on him. "Everyone seems to think I'm something I'm not. I tried telling Master Rhe…" Seeing that Ansanom had something more to say, Aaron fell silent.

"All things must be told in their proper order and so it shall be now. To understand what I will ultimately tell you, you must first know this: five hundred years ago, this man, this savant, the one named Erlek Abn Nee, lived. You need not ask how, for I shall tell you. But first, we must go back all those many years to the time of the druids. The druids were a caste of powerful earth wizards, attuned to the world around them and able to draw energy from the earth itself. Such a repository was and always will be unparalleled. Imagine infinite power, if you will, and you've glimpsed the essence of the power the druids commanded. Such power does not come without cost, though. The druids were restrained and bound by oaths, vows, and promises of servitude. Never had there been a more altruistic lot. They cared nothing for themselves or the things you or I might want from life. For them, life was devotion, piety, and, above all else, servitude.

"That is what most historians believe, at least. The truth is that though they might be druids, beneath it all they were still just men and women, with the same inherent failings of us all. A faction within their ranks, made up of individuals grown weary of their service, plotted their sundering from the druid hierocracy. There are many reasons for this: greed was undoubtedly the greatest of them. For you see, these men and women knew all too well that one does not give up the oath without also giving up the power. This was a wholly unacceptable compromise, a conundrum they set themselves to solving before they openly disavowed themselves from the hierocracy.

"Thus was born the Four Elements, devices that correspond to each of the very elements of fire, water, earth, and air. The plan of these elementalists was this: create the Elements, then openly declare their autonomy. They thought mere possession of the Elements was deterrent enough to keep the druids from acting against them. They were wrong, for such blasphemy—such exploitation of the earth—was intolerable. Druid engaged elementalist in battle, with the druids intent on carrying out a sentence of death. Even with the Elements, the elementalists were no match. They were slain, all but four, who were charged with a very special task: to each take one of the Four Elements to the furthest reaches of Uhl and there scatter the devices to the Four Winds where no one—not druid nor elementalist nor anyone else—would ever find them. More than that, once these four had fulfilled their duty, they each were to take their own lives so that their secret would die with them.

The plan worked so well the tale would probably end there were it not for one man: Tarn Galangaul, who was one of the four. Once an oath-breaker, always an oath-breaker, eh? Tarn Galangaul completed the first part of his charge, secreting away one of the Four Elements, but he did not commit the ultimate sacrifice as he was supposed to. Instead, he disappeared. His exact ambitions remain unknown. Perhaps, in time, he meant to try to seek out the Elements for himself. Perhaps he only wanted peace. I only learned that sometime after he hid the single Element, he settled into obscurity, possibly married, and most certainly, begot children. It is unfortunate for him that, eventually, the druids found him. When they did, Tarn made sure they learned nothing of his scions. He, of course, did not survive. With the last of the elementalists dead, the Lord of Time worked his will and knowledge of the elementalists and the Elements disappeared. Such lore might have remained buried forever if not for Erlek.

"Now, you may think Erlek was either druid or elementalist. The truth is that he was neither. Erlek was both scribe and, eventually, alchemist in the employ of the druids. He did not squander these positions, learning all he could while watching and listening to all the goings-on around him. All that, and he waited, too. Waited for his opportunity to satisfy his own lust for power. It came with the disappearance of the druids. A discussion of that subject is neither here nor there, but their vanishing years after the elementalists had been dealt with left Erlek free to pursue his own ambitions.

"He'd witnessed the unfolding of the elementalists' plot and thus knew of the devices they created. But he no more knew their location than anyone else. Free of his masters, though, Erlek began searching. One year turned into two turned into five, ten, and eventually so many that it seemed Death itself might be the only thing to stop him. In the end, though, even that was not enough. You see, Erlek knew it might take more than one lifetime to track down his prizes, and so he took steps to insure he had more than what remained of his to see it fulfilled. He used his knowledge of alchemy to concoct a secret brew he must periodically quaff in order to preserve his age and restore his body. Erlek's process is neither refined nor sophisticated, for the man knows nothing of the principles of extromantic transference but must instead physically drain the life from others to create this potion of his." Ansanom took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Erlek has used this unnatural extension of life to explore many avenues, delving into the dark arts of witchcraft as much as he's poured over historical records secreted away by his former masters. He has forged many alliances as well, all meant to aid his ambitions of finding the Four Elements. Now, we know he has found one of them. Activating and using such a device creates detectable ripples. Erlek would not have announced his presence so boldly if he did not already know where the other Elements are to be found. I have no doubt that, even now, he moves to secure the remaining three."

Ansanom fixed Aaron with a concentrated stare. "You've listened to me speak of this man who murdered your mentor, killed your friends, destroyed your home. In all of this, Aaron, you wonder at the simplest of questions. Why? The answer put plainly is that he wants you dead. I spoke moments ago of Tarn Galangaul and of the family he had begun before the druids executed him. Aaron, you are a descendant of that family. As such, through your blood you possess the attunement needed to summon the power of the Elements. Ah, I see the doubt in your eyes. You do not believe my words. That is alright. I know it must seem silly in a way, that an intelligent but otherwise unassuming boy might possess the power to shake the earth and move the oceans. Imagine how much more ridiculous it might seem were you an orphaned kitchen scullion!" Ansanom let out a snort. "I assure you, though, that what I have told you is quite true. I've no doubt it is the ultimate reason Elsanar made you his apprentice. Perhaps he did not know the full truth of it at first, though I daresay my friend's instincts most likely had a hand in guiding him those years ago. Once Elsanar began digging into Erlek's dealings and putting the different pieces of his puzzle together many things must have been revealed to him about your role in all of this.

"Which brings us to the crux of it and the answer to your original question. Why indeed does Erlek want you dead so badly he'd hire assassins and, at their failing, destroy an entire city to see you dispatched? The answer is this: you are a rival, something Erlek will not tolerate. With the Elements so close now, he is determined that no one will stop him."

Aaron took a few moments to consider all that had been said. In truth, he was only making it seem so. He'd already considered all that needed considering, or so he thought. While he didn't doubt the parts concerning Erlek, he had great doubts concerning his own role in the narration. When enough time had passed so that his reply would not seem impulsive, he spoke.

"First, thank you for sending warning of the assassins."

Ansanom gave a curt nod to that.

"Second, and I mean no disrespect, sir, but I can't help but think I'm not this person you or Erlek think I am."

Ansanom smiled in an understanding manner. "Rest assured, Aaron, I am correct. Perhaps the hints have only been subtle, perhaps it is only that sometimes the thing staring us in the face is the one we do not see at all. Whatever the case, there is a path before you, one which Elsanar set you on and which I will now help guide you down."

Aaron nodded, not sure what else to do. He wanted to believe Ansanom. He'd no doubt the man was the wiser. But he couldn't shake the feeling that the master sorcerer was, if not wrong, then perhaps misguided. If what he said was true, why hadn't Elsanar ever said anything about it? Why did he have Aaron studying mathematics, alchemistry, and other such subjects if he possessed some other latent ability tied to the earth? That, and what about his parents? If he was a descendant of this Galangaul person, then one of them was too. Were they in danger? Had Taloo also been attacked? That thought was too horrible to consider. Aaron knew his father was a resourceful man, but this was wholly different from repairing the local mill wheel or patching a fishing vessel. The entire village would have been completely overwhelmed just as Norwynne had been. Taloo might be no more. Its folk might all be dead. Aaron shuddered once, but that was all as he put such thoughts from his mind. There wasn't anything he could do about any of that right now. He had to focus on what was happening before him first. But even that was too overwhelming to consider. Still, he took it in small steps, comparing the little he'd known before coming to Wildemoore with what Ansanom had just told them. Then he sat up in his chair. There was one piece of information that had been omitted.

"You spoke of the Four Elements," Aaron said.

Ansanom looked at him attentively.

"Yet Elsanar told Master Rhe of five. He might have even referred to them as the Five Elements, as if they were devices just like the Four. Could they be other devices, also created by the elementalists or the druids or maybe someone else entirely? Or maybe they are one in the same and someone made a mistake in their recording?" It seemed a stretch, but if a man could live five hundred years and summon demons to hunt down the descendants of renegade druids, then how farfetched was the possibility of a clerical error?

Ansanom's brow narrowed. Then he half-turned in his chair to address Ensel Rhe. "Elsanar told you of this? Are you sure he spoke of five elements?"

"I am sure," Ensel Rhe said. "He was quite plain on the matter. Surely he mentioned this to you as well?"

Ansanom rattled his fingers upon the table. "No, he did not. Strange. Strange, indeed." It seemed he might start a new discourse on the matter, but instead the sorcerer pushed his chair back and stood. "We all have much to think on now and you two are no doubt in need of hot bathes and some rest. I have been remiss in offering either up until now only because I recognized the importance of your arrival. It is just now early evening. Perhaps after a handful of hours we might reconvene for a proper dinner. You are, of course, welcome to stay indefinitely. Myself and Serena shall be glad for the company. We have rooms aplenty, though they are beneath my workshop. Worry not about the noise, though, for I am a quiet worker."

They said their thanks, then Ensel Rhe and Aaron gathered jacket and cloak from the hearth and the two of them followed Serena to the entry and up the stairs to the manor's second floor. Serena stopped them at the first of three doors where she gestured at Aaron. She was all courtesy now.

"Everything you need is inside. We have hot water piped to the room for the bath and I have prepared a tray of cheeses and wine for each of you."

Master Rhe left Aaron with a simple nod as he started walking to the next door which presumably led to his room.

"Wait."

Though Serena spoke to Aaron, her voice halted Ensel Rhe as well.

"If you don't like wine, I can bring something else. Some more tea or—"

"The wine will be fine," Aaron said. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted her to return, especially so soon. Presented with a quiet room of his own, Aaron wanted nothing more than to go inside, clean up, and lie down. Now, as it seemed Serena had nothing else to say, he got started doing just that. Aaron paused only to close the door behind him.

Ensel Rhe, however, remained in the hall. Serena's gaze went to him. She could not meet those inscrutable, stark white eyes for long before her gaze fell to the floor. Finally, she asked, "Is there… something else?"

"Tell your master I leave on the morrow."

"You're not staying?" Her face betrayed surprise. And something else.

"Is there reason for me to?"

"No, but what about the dogs?"

"They are not interested in me. Your master said it himself. They hunt Aaron. There is therefore nothing keeping me from leaving. Is there?"

"No. I mean, if you want to, you can. But if you don't… you're welcome to…"

Ensel Rhe took a step into the room and closed the door, leaving the sorcerer's apprentice standing alone in the hallway.

16. Cauldron Mountain

ERLEK SLAMMED HIS OPEN PALM on the writing desk.

"Concentrate!"

He loomed towards Shanna, across the desk's surface, as if he meant to reach out and throttle her. Instead, he let a visible shudder course through him before straightening. Then he turned and started pacing the floor. He walked one way and then the other before he spoke again. "You wish to learn the use of the Elements, do you not?" He did not allow her time to answer. "Yet you demonstrate not the slightest interest in doing so, disregarding my lessons and even going so far as to lie to me."

"I never lied—" She had lied. Immediately upon his return Erlek had asked her how far she'd read and she'd stupidly said all of it. A quick series of questions had laid bare the falsehoods of that claim. In frustration—or perhaps as punishment—he reverted to his original lesson plan by laying out a series of problems he expected her to solve immediately while he hovered over her.

"Discipline!" This time it was his fist that smacked the desk. The suddenness of it pushed Shanna back in her chair. "It is not earned or given as a gift! You must focus your mind! Embrace it! Learn it!"

Shanna let go her pencil and folded her arms across her chest. "I don't understand how figuring out this—this—"

"Logic problem!"

"—is going to help me learn discipline. Who cares about hi-hidraw—"

"Hydraulics!"

"I can't even say it! How do you expect me to learn anything from it?"

Erlek took a deep breath. "The problem is not about hydraulics per se. Rather, it is a test of your ability to think through a problem to its logical conclusion. It is meant to shape your mind's thoughts, to provide a clear path that will ultimately allow you to control the Elements. Passion and emotion have no place here; the Elements are dangerous." An ashen hand went to his forehead. "We have been over these points already." He pointed a long, bony finger at the drawing he'd made on the parchment for her. "Look here. Fluid flows in this direction. How do you suppose—"

The savant's words were cut off as the door to his cabin slammed open. The sitheri guards, who stood inside the room as silent as obelisks, responded instantly by drawing short blades better suited to the room's confines than their spears.

Shanna, whose heart had lurched into her throat at the suddenness of the interruption, breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was only Engus Rul. Such relief faded quickly, for the dwarf's expression was hateful and angry. In his hand, brandished openly, was a warhammer.

"You've gone too far, savant," he said as he stepped into the cabin. It was the only step he was allowed as the sitheri attacked. Engus Rul was ready for them, knocking both swords aside and seeming to have the upper hand for at least a moment. Then one of the sitheri abandoned his sword, bending down to wrap powerful arms about the dwarf's torso while the other leveled its blade at his throat. Engus Rul's hammer was forced from his grip. The weapon hit the floor with a thud.

"Do not kill him," Erlek said. The man glided forward, stopping a single arm's reach from the dwarven clan-lord. A snarl signaled the dwarf's desire to reach out and strangle the man.

"You've killed one of my dwarves, bloodsucker," Engus Rul said, "and now I'm going to kill you."

"Really?" Erlek motioned for the sitheri holding the blade to step away, then he grasped his hands behind him. "How exactly do you plan on doing that? Hmmm?"

Engus Rul strained against his captor. His eyes bulged, his teeth gnashed, and Shanna, who'd risen the moment the battle had begun, saw the muscles of his arms strain and ripple. Still, he was no match in raw strength for the reptilian sitheri.

"What would Kelgin think, breaking your oath?" Erlek asked. "Surely he must be turning in his grave—"

"Do not speak his name, worm!"

Erlek leaned in closer. Calm up to this point despite the dwarf's angst, his next words were laced with venom. "You and yours are bound to me. To serve me. If that means sacrificing themselves so that my goal might be accomplished, so be it." A moment passed in which their eyes remained locked, then Erlek stepped away. He stooped to pick up the dwarf's weapon. He made a show of examining it, the chipped, iron-worked head, the leather-wrapped, notched haft. Then he ordered the dwarf released. With both hands gripping the hammer's handle, Erlek offered it back to its master. Engus Rul heaved in great breaths, eying his current predicament. Finally, he took the hammer without comment and, even with it in his hand, made no untoward move.

"If you seek someone to blame, dwarf, you need look no further than your own. Now, we shall reach the mountain soon. Be ready, and bring Soljilnor."

Erlek turned his back on the dwarf. To Shanna, he said, "You may go for now."

She started to, but one look at the still infuriated dwarf, who blocked the way out, stopped her in her tracks. Thinking she might ask Erlek to try her hand at another logic problem rather than try maneuvering around the clan-lord, she was spared from any such decision when Engus Rul turned and stomped away. Suddenly overcome with the need to speak to the dwarf without Erlek lurking about, Shanna hurried after him. Mirna, who'd huddled in one corner of the room for hours and who still did so now despite the violent exchange, rose and followed.

Once abovedeck, Shanna saw that it was night, the sky a layer of darkness lit only faintly by a sparse moon. A light rain fell, but the deck remained mostly dry as the Griffin floated along with the clouds. In the distance, lightning brought flashes of light to the darkness; a promise of more storms to come. Now, however, with conditions nominal, the scene abovedeck was quiet.

Engus Rul moved fast. He was almost onto the waist deck before Shanna called out to him.

"Return to your master," Engus Rul said from over one shoulder as he kept walking.

Shanna ran after him, leaping down from the quarterdeck and circling around the dwarf so that she blocked his way. Engus Rul had no choice but to barrel through her, go around, or stop. He chose to stop. Inwardly, Shanna breathed a sigh of relief at that.

"He's not my master."

The dwarf flashed her a look of impatience. "Get out of the way, girl, before I—"

"Tell me what happened."

One of the man's brows turned up. "Don't play games with me—"

"I'm not! I—I didn't know. Not until you—Erlek promised not to hurt anyone else. I mean, he promised to leave the others from Norwynne alone." Shanna's gaze strayed from Engus's. "I didn't know that he'd… I'm sorry."

Engus Rul said nothing. Shanna felt his eyes weighing her down, though, until he released her by stepping to the railing. He rested both hands there and stared out into the gray evening.

Shanna remembered Mirna. "Mirna, why don't you go below? Use my room if you want. Get some sleep."

Mirna bowed. Then she was gone.

Shanna joined Engus. The moment she drew near, the dwarf spoke.

"He's a damn, bloodsucking vampire, that savant. Sent his sitheri to ambush Herg when he was alone. Erlek sucked him dry. Took his soul. The others expect me to return with the savant's head. 'To the Thirteen Hells with the oath', they say. Damn fools! I'll take their heads before any one of them dishonors Fire Rock. They know it, too. The oath stands. It will be honored."

"What oath?" Shanna asked in a quiet voice.

Engus Rul took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly. "Our clan-lord, the one called Kelgin, struck a bargain with Erlek at the start of this… adventure. Though Kelgin has gone to the Beyond, his promise remains, for it is as much ours as it was his. We of Fire Rock do not take such oaths lightly." Engus Rul turned his head a moment. "I wonder how much of this Erlek knew when he came seeking our clan's help?" Then he spat over the side. "It doesn't matter now. We'll see it fulfilled. Then, when it is done, I'll kill Erlek myself."

"No," Shanna said without thinking. "You can't."

Shanna felt the weight of Engus Rul's stare on her once more.

"I can't? Why not?" His voice was gruff, almost angry, as if she had any right to impede or question his desires.

Shanna crossed her arms at her chest and suppressed a shiver. "Because I'm going to kill him." The moment she spoke the words, she regretted it. Engus Rul had just told her where he'd placed his loyalties, at least as long as his oath remained, and here she was telling him the one thing that could cause everything to unravel. She wondered if, right then and there, he might go to Erlek to tell him exactly what she'd said. The moment's fear dissipated as soon as the dwarf let out a long, slow chuckle.

"So," Engus Rul said, "that is why you boarded the ship when I offered to let you go."

Shanna said nothing as she leaned out over the edge and peered into the endless darkness. She thought she saw a sliver of crimson below, like the stroke of a painter's brush, far off in the distance. Another shiver ran through her. "You won't tell him, will you?"

"I'll not tell that bloodsucker a thing." He laughed again. "Perhaps you'll even beat me to him."

Shanna smiled. It was a quick gesture that did not last long. "Perhaps."

They stood in silence after that, both watching the darkness and the approaching line of scarlet that was soon joined by other veins that streaked the land as if rivers of flame. As they sailed ever closer, Shanna realized that was exactly what they were: flows of hot lava flowing down gulches, gullies, and canyons.

"The flows are new," Engus said at her side. "Anaktoa has sensed our approach and has awoken. I must tell the others." The dwarf turned to go, but stopped at the last moment. He fixed his stare on Shanna. "Erlek is a dangerous man, Shanna. Watch and ward yourself." Then he went to rejoin his dwarves and tell them of the volcano's activity.

No sooner had he disappeared belowdeck than the airship sprang to life. An aft bell clanged, summoning the airmen to their stations. Shanna heard the shouting of mates and the stamp of booted feet rising from below. Moments later men spilled out from gangways and the deck became a scene of controlled chaos.

Shanna made herself small, trying to find a place where she'd remain out of the way but also where she didn't have to surrender her vantage point. Seen from this high up, the molten rivers were beautiful as they cut across the landscape. Cauldron Mountain, Erlek had called it. Anaktoa, to Engus Rul. Despite the increasing glow from the molten rivers, it remained too dark to see the mountain itself. That didn't stop Shanna from painting its image in her mind.

It was tall, taller than the airship's current elevation, and massive, with slopes dark and hot with lava. Its top was a witch's pot of steaming, bubbling liquid. Aaron had shown her its picture—or one very much like it—in one of his books. Aaron had shown her lots of things like that. He was always carrying books around, most of them filled with words and formulas that made her head ache to look at them. But there was always one book in his stack filled with hand-painted pictures of the most wondrous places: river-carved valleys, spacious canyons lined with evergreens, meadows punctuated by rocky outcroppings and wildflowers. Someday, we'll go there, he had told her. He said it mostly to cheer her up, when she was feeling down. She knew full well she was never going anywhere except to that miserable, stinking hole where she helped Nora make the soap. But Aaron's pictures and the way he described the places they depicted always made her feel better anyway.

She let out a heavy sigh. She wondered where Aaron was and what he was doing. She hoped he was safe and hadn't spent too much time mourning her death, for he must think her gone, drowned after the whirlpool had sucked her in. She wished there was some way she could get a message to him, to tell him she was alive. But even if a means existed, she had no idea where to send it. Back to Norwynne perhaps. By now, they must be taking stock of the damage, rebuilding. Aaron was probably there, helping with the cleanup and architecting the restoration if Shanna knew him half as well as she thought she did. Aaron was doing just fine. She was sure of it.

Erlek appeared on deck and headed straightaway for her position, cutting through the airmen with little effort, many of whom had stopped to take in the rivers of flame below.

"We are here, then," Erlek said, making no effort to hide the excitement in his voice. "Cauldron Mountain."

Shanna peered over the side again, following the line of flaming rivulets to where she presumed the mountain must lie. Still, she didn't see its great peak. She said as much to Erlek.

"You have not seen a true mountain because there is none to see. Cauldron Mountain is no mountain at all, not in the common sense of the term. It is a caldera. Once, it was as you no doubt imagine it. Called Karak-Tur, it was great, towering, magnificent. But the earth called to it. It answered with fire and destruction. The whole of the mountain was wiped away, leaving only a depression in the land to mark its presence. Look, there!" Erlek pointed to a spot that was utter blackness, but where, at the edges of that spot, the largest of the flows originated. "That is Cauldron Mountain. It appears the bowl of it yet remains empty. The Element of Fire is ours for the taking." Erlek called across the ship to the captain. "Fast ahead! We land there!" He pointed again, as if anyone could see precisely where he was indicating.

The captain shouted something that was not to Erlek's liking, for he let out a snarl in response. Right before storming off to the steering deck to confront the man, Erlek said to Shanna, "Go below. Gather what you might need for a short trip. Meet me in my chamber." Then he was off to test his will against that of the captain, leaving Shanna alone.

Despite the savant's order, she continued to stare out into the night's darkness. She waited, and waited, until finally the clouds parted just enough so that moonlight streaked to the ground and, at last, she saw Cauldron Mountain. It was a great bowl, carved as if by a giant scoop. It was empty—Shanna presumed Erlek had meant of lava—though red-orange liquid bubbled up from all around it to form the streams and rivulets that ran across the land. The Griffin's progress was slow. Erlek continued to argue with the captain for some time, though they must have come to some compromise, for Erlek finally broke away and returned belowdeck. The moment he did the Griffin altered course to head directly for the great depression. An hour later, assaulted by a great abundance of smoke and the noxious odor of sulfur, the ship passed over the cauldron's rim. They maintained their distance from the ground. As they moved further into the bowl that distance grew even greater as the inside of the caldera sloped away. Wary of what might happen should they drift too near to its bottom, the Griffin held its altitude as it sailed for the centermost point of the depression. The air about them grew more heated, the aroma of sulfur more pronounced. Moonlight reflected from tendrils of steam that rose from fissures both great and small in the caldera's surface. Black rock, jagged and malformed, along with gray, sandy ash, lay strewn about everywhere.

Only when they reached the center of the caldera did the captain give the order to descend further. The vibration of the airship's engine lessened as it was turned down. Men on the main deck scrambled about the pipes feeding the balloon, twisting cranks and monitoring dials. The pipes hissed as the Griffin began its descent. The airship halted with forty feet still to go. From the activity on deck, Shanna saw the captain meant to go no further. She took it as her cue to go find Erlek.

He was in his chamber, the savant's lean frame wrapped tightly in a thick robe of earth tones. He'd traded his sandals for heavy boots and held a metal-shod walking stick in one hand. Shanna saw a robe similar to the savant's laid out on the divan. Erlek gestured at her to put it on along with a pair of boots. Both the robe and shoes were big on her, but not unmanageable. There was a satchel there—empty—that she swung over one shoulder. When she was finished, Erlek said to her, "Take the Element."

Surprised by the request, Shanna just stood there.

Erlek chuckled. "It is time, dear girl. Time to see what you've learned, if anything." He said the last with a certain sourness. "Go on. Take it."

Shanna did as she was asked, lifting the Element of Earth from its resting place. The familiar tingle pulsed through her hands, down her arms, and into her core.

"Once abovedeck," Erlek said, "we will descend from the ship into the caldera. The Element will remain safe at your side."

He gestured to the satchel, and Shanna placed the device inside.

"Once we stand upon the rocky surface, you will lead us into the volcano."

"What?" Shanna wasn't sure he'd heard him right. "How?"

"That, unfortunately, is something that remains to be seen. Have no fear, though. You have with you the Element of Earth. Look to it now for answers. Now, come." Erlek walked past her, unnecessarily allowing the metal end of his staff to fall heavy on the wood floor as he made his way abovedeck. The sitheri, who waited outside the room, waited for Shanna to follow their master. Shanna sighed, then she followed. The sitheri trailed at her heels.

Engus Rul was there. The dwarf's accoutrements hadn't changed at all except that he now carried the axe, Soljilnor. It remained wrapped in canvas. His dwarves stood nearby, though by their casual dress and lack of armor it did not look as if they would be accompanying their lord. A hard-faced lot, their stares never left the savant.

Erlek either hadn't seen the looks or simply didn't care as he went about examining a knotted rope that was secured to the ship and that hung out and over the railing. Shanna made the mistake of looking over the side, tracing the line of the rope as it swayed with the ship's motion all the way to the ground. Her head swooned from the distance.

Engus Rul joined them. Together, they made a motley lot of five, including the pair of snakemen.

"Soljilnor will better serve us with its head exposed," Erlek said to Engus Rul.

"You said the axe will protect us regardless," the dwarf said.

Erlek lifted his brow. "It will."

"Then it stays as it is."

There was a finality to Engus Rul's words that Erlek chose not to challenge as the savant stepped away. He motioned for the dwarf to descend first. Before he could, an airmen came forward, offering each of them a waterskin. Shanna slung it over her shoulder opposite the satchel. Erlek and Engus Rul each took one as well. The sitheri seemed to have no need. Without even a glance over the side, Engus Rul swung over the rail and, hand-over-hand, lowered himself. Several crewmen stopped at their duties to watch the dwarf go down until a deck officer shouted at them to get back to work. Others cast sidelong glances at the lot of them. There was little well-wishing in those stares. Shanna went after Engus Rul. She followed his lead, swinging herself over the railing without looking down this time. It made the effort easier, but only slightly.

It was a single-minded task, with just herself and the rope for the minutes it took for her to reach the ground. There were knots tied into it in intervals. Her feet found purchase at each of them, lessening the strain on her arms, though the robe Erlek had provided with its wide sleeves and extra weight was an added hindrance. She wondered why she was even wearing it or why she hadn't taken it off before she'd started down the rope, but it was too late now. If nothing else, it eased the rope's strain along her thighs. Then she was down. Having both feet planted on solid ground never felt so good. Drenched with sweat as much from her effort as from the heat, she took a few wobbly steps, realizing it might take some time to regain her land legs.

Above them, the Griffin listed but generally held its position as the snakemen and finally Erlek came down. The moment the savant's feet touched the surface he moved with purpose. He said nothing to the others. The clank of his heavy staff grinding into the volcanic rock both presaged his passage and prompted them to follow. The sitheri trailed behind with Shanna. Engus Rul brought up the rear. The savant’s gaze swept the landscape as he led them on a meandering walk through the rough, black rock of the volcano's bowl. Contrary to the smoothness Shanna thought she had seen from above, the terrain stretching out before her was a chaos of disruption and upheaval. Erlek led them around jagged outcroppings, down into gullies where pungent smoke escaped from slits and holes in the rock, and back up onto a black sweep of irregularity that stretched all the way to the other side of the caldera. Ash, gray and sandy, littered every crevice and nook. The whole scene drained Shanna’s spirit and infected her throat with a dryness that several swigs from her waterskin did little to relieve. The place stank too, sulfur hanging heavy in the air so that Shanna soon found her breathing not only labored, but forcibly too shallow to sustain such exertions for much longer.

Good thing that just as it seemed Erlek meant to take them on a tour of the entire locale, he stopped. He stood a short distance from a jagged formation that lifted into the sky. Though at first glance it looked the same as all the other outcroppings they'd passed, this one did have a singular difference: at its base the rock had the beginnings of an opening. A shallow depression in the rock face, it was further distinguished by what almost looked like a walkway leading right up to it. Shanna knew it was impossible and probably only a coincidence that it appeared so, yet here they had hiked along it at least for a short ways to get to the formation. The savant walked down the remainder of the trail, almost to the wall, when he turned and said to Shanna, "Expose the Element and come forward."

Shanna looked at the others. The sitheri offered nothing, but stood aside to let her pass. Engus Rul's face bore an expression of intense concentration that softened only slightly as he offered her a nod of encouragement. Shanna allowed herself a moment to let out a deep breath, then she reached into the satchel to draw forth the Element. The moment her fingers touched the bowl, she felt the power stirring within it. It was both similar and different than before. There was the usual vibration of energy, but it pulsed now with a strength she hereto had not felt. She almost pulled away from it. She'd come this far, though. She knew she'd go the rest of the way. Using both hands, she pulled it free. It looked no different than before: just a simple, earthen bowl only slightly wider than the span of her two hands. Taking slow steps, with the Element held before her, Shanna approached Erlek.

"Now", the savant said, "your brief tutelage hits a head, eh? You must let the energy of the Element flow through you. Through you and into the rock face. It is as simple as that. The one Element knows the other is near. We must hope that it is enough." Erlek stepped aside. "Concentrate. Let the energies come forth, focus them, and open us a pathway into the bowels of Karak-Tur."

Shanna cast a sidelong glance at the savant. "We're going into the volcano?"

"Yes! Now, concentrate! Focus! Embrace your destiny and lead us forward!"

Shanna wasn't entirely sure what Erlek was asking of her, but she returned her attention to the Element and to the rock wall and tried to focus her thoughts on both of them. The Element felt alive in her hands. The strength of its pulsing had increased, its rhythm matching that of her beating heart. Its energy coursed through her, first only along her skin, but as she allowed herself to relax, it permeated deeper. Still, Shanna had no real idea how to manipulate or control it. "I don't know—" She cut herself off, unwilling to expose her ignorance to Erlek. It didn't matter. The savant knew something was wrong.

"Concentrate!"

Shanna kept her focus on the Element. "I am concentrating!"

"Not enough! Focus, girl, focus!"

Shanna did, but still nothing happened. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing!"

Erlek stamped his staff onto the hard rock. "It is as I thought, then. You lack the mental discipline."

"No, I don't! I only need a moment—"

"One moment will make no difference. Your mind is too feeble, too simplistic. I am ruined. Ruined! And, as for you…"

Shanna felt the man's contempt soaking into her.

"Perhaps soap making is indeed your lot, after all."

"No!"

She wasn't going back to that life. If this was it, if this was her moment to once and for all take control of her destiny, then she was not going to let it slip away. She concentrated like never before, letting the energies course into her, through her, and, different than before, back into the Element. She discarded Erlek's logic problems and disciplined thought processes. Those things were not her. She was willfulness, anger and passion, daring and bravado. She was all those things and, now, master of the Element. She felt it, as if this thing she held in her hands had always been a part of her. Then, just like that, the Element of Earth came to life.

Energy surged from it, slicing through the hardened lava to burrow deep into the volcano. It happened so fast, so suddenly, Shanna was shocked when she saw the Element of Fire—phantasm-like—burning right in front of her. It was flame and heat and a burning so intense that it melted away fear and caution. There was something of herself in that dazzling vision. Something she knew she'd been missing all of her life. Shanna reached deep into Anaktoa. The Element of Earth did the rest, widening a path deeper and deeper into the earth. It took only a moment, then it was done. Where before had been a solid rock wall was now a great, dark opening.

Shanna heard the dry chuckling of Erlek's laughter rise above the hiss of steam, dust, and smoke billowing from the opening she'd made.

"Good! Good!" He clapped his hands together once. "Excellent work, my Tool. Excellent work!"

He brushed past her, stepping through the cloudy expulsion and into the opening without hesitation. The sitheri followed, leaving Engus Rul and Shanna alone.

"I am bound to Erlek by the word given unto him by our former lord," the dwarf said to her as he shrugged still-wrapped Soljilnor from his shoulder. "You bear no such shackles." Engus Rul fixed her with that weighty stare of his. "See to it that he never leaves this place." Then, holding the axe across his body, he too disappeared into the earth's subterranean darkness. Shanna took a moment, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out before she returned the Element of Earth to the satchel. Then she followed the others.

The path was an irregular chute of jagged rock. Shanna was instantly glad for the heavy boots she wore. Too bad Erlek had not also provided her a helmet, for her head connected with the ceiling more than once. Each impact was accompanied by expletives she'd been advised in the past never to say again. After the second such outburst, she used her hands to feel in front of her, ducking her head more than necessary as she focused on the noise of the others' passing ahead of her. Just when she was ready to ask Erlek why he hadn't brought any torches, she spotted a light ahead. Very faint at first, it soon glowed bright enough that she saw Erlek and the others' shapes limned in red. The light was the purest form of scarlet she'd ever seen.

Catching up, Shanna left the confines of the shaft behind to enter a chamber aglow with the fires of Anaktoa. Bubbling lava pools and flows were at either side of them. The path the Element had cut went right through the center of the chamber, the very earth hardened, lifted, and shaped to form a straight runway through the maelstrom. The heat was intense. Shanna felt it licking out at them and wondered why it did not melt their flesh, scorch their bodies to ash, or disintegrate them to nothing. She half-expected any one of those things to happen to Erlek, who was the first to stride out onto the path. But the savant was safe. Shanna held a hand to her forehead and, while she was sweating from her exertions, her skin was not hot or even warm to the touch. Her first thought was to look to the Element, but it was Earth, not Fire. The only other explanation was the axe, Soljilnor. That realization caused her to take a step closer to Engus Rul, for she'd no desire to have her flesh seared from her bones.

At the opposite end of the magma chamber was a haphazard slit cut into the far wall. The opening was a continuation of the path that they followed ever deeper into the mountain. More chambers like the first one greeted them. They passed through each with caution until they entered one so different from the others Shanna knew it was the dwelling place of the Element of Fire. Though the chamber as a whole was much larger, it was what lay at the center which drew her full attention, for the path created by the Element of Earth led straightaway to a pyramid of monolithic proportions. Bathed in red, it was carved from the stuff of the very mountain. Impossible that it could have survived in the belly of Anaktoa unmolested, the pyramid nevertheless stood as a testament to some power Shanna had no hope of ever understanding.

"It is here where the elementalist named Jakom, entrusted with the Element of Fire and protected by its power, journeyed," Erlek said, the wonder in his own voice undisguised. "It is here where he threw himself into the burning lava, sacrificing himself so that no one would ever learn the Element's location. No one has lain eyes on such grandeur for nigh five hundred years."

Without another word, Erlek approached the base of the towering structure. He stopped at the foot of a series of steps that went up and up, all the way to the pyramid's top.

Shanna, who had followed close behind with the others, stopped with him. "Who built this?" she asked.

"This," Erlek said, raising his hand to encompass the great structure, "was not built. Jakom, before sacrificing himself, invoked the Element to melt away the rock, to shape it. Hidden so amongst fire, its use would have gone unnoticed. This place is a fitting monument to the power that is the Element of Fire."

Engus Rul let the shrouded tip of his axe fall to the temple's first step. "It's a damn long walk up is what it is."

Shanna agreed.

Erlek started up first. As always, the sitheri followed closely. Engus Rul swung Soljilnor over his shoulder, then he started taking the steps two at a time. Shanna decided on a more conservative pace of just one at a time. Right away, memories of Graggly's returned to her. But unlike those times when she and Aaron had raced each other to the top, this time she was already feeling worn out before she'd even gotten started. She counted only thirty steps before her heart thumped in her chest. Another thirty and each breath became an effort. Drops of sweat slid down her back and she found herself using the sleeve of her robe to wipe her brow more and more frequently. She didn't know how many more steps she went before she finally let herself drop. Engus Rul must have observed her diminishing progress, because he was there, placing one arm around her and half-lifting, half-carrying her until she recovered enough to make her own way. By the time she had, they were at the top.

The moment Engus Rul let go his grip, Shanna went to the Element of Fire. It truly was fire, a single flame burning atop a column only half her height. There was no wood or other fuel to maintain it. It simply burned.

Next to her, Erlek spoke. "There is something you need to know of Fire that makes it wholly unique and different from Earth." He spoke in a whisper. "Earth is passive, quiet, patient. It offers little of anything until it is invoked. Fire is none of these things. Fire seeks mastery. It longs, it desires, it will act without provocation or summoning. Let it rule you and you will be no more, for it will burn you to nothingness. Now, this is what you must do…"

The rest of the savant's words fell on deaf ears. Entranced, Shanna raised a hand to the Element of Fire. In response, it licked higher, burned brighter. Though she had not touched it, Shanna felt something of it. It was different than what she'd felt when holding the Element of Earth. That had been subtle, almost gentle. What she felt emanating from the Element of Fire was sudden and forceful. Shanna almost withdrew her hand. Without having taken any action, the flame diminished and the feeling, while not subsiding, grew less threatening. Shanna took that moment to grab hold of the flame. Next to her, Erlek shouted something, but she wasn't listening. The moment the tip of her finger touched the Element, it erupted, engulfing her in a blossoming wave of heat and flame. Except that it didn't burn her, didn't touch her, and she knew Soljilnor had nothing to do with either. She was one with the Element, and it with her. It was a bond she scarce understood but one she embraced. Everything fire was—its heat, its ambition, its needs—augmented those very same things within her. They'd always been there, always been a part of her, but buried, or else revealed only in brief moments, when stirred into being by life's circumstances. Now, they moved to the forefront. The flame of the Element of Fire lessened, concentrating into a single flicker at the tip of her finger.

Shanna smiled.

Two of the Elements were hers.

17. Betrayal

ENSEL RHE HAD DETECTED THE character change in Serena almost immediately. Her formality, her hesitance to let either of them enter their guest rooms, the nervous quiver in her voice when he'd announced his departure so soon after just arriving. Not that the last was all that unusual. He'd never stayed long on past visits. But this time was different. He hadn't arrived carrying missives and would not be carrying the responses to such letters when he left. There was no longer anywhere to take such things. His journey from this point went forward to someplace new, some place of his own choosing. He'd no idea where he'd go. Not home. Never there. Perhaps the windswept plains of Kallendor, or the lake lands of Vranna. Both fiefdoms of men, but men most often understood what he was about. They understood loss and the need for revenge. Ansanom had called Krosus and his pack tenacious. But they only hunted one boy. Ensel Rhe hunted an entire race. He'd kill them all, too. Every last one, until he found his Hannu. Once he was satisfied Ansanom had nothing nefarious in mind, his duty here would be done. But not before.

He stalked into the room expecting a trap. Always assume the worst. It was a soldier's mantra he'd learned long ago. It kept his hand on the pommel of his khatesh and his senses on full alert as he circled the chamber, inspecting everything. This was a sorcerer's abode, where even the furniture might pose a threat. But though he circled the room twice, neither the bed nor the armoire lurched to life. Nor did an inspection for secret doors in walls or beneath the central rug reveal anything. A look outside through the room's stained glass window—it did not open—revealed nothing but darkness. The tub was empty. When Ensel Rhe tested the spigot only water came out. There was an array of lit candles and a tray of food and wine, the latter possibly poisoned or, more likely, magicked. No way of knowing unless he sampled them, something he had no intention of doing.

Not satisfied, he circled the room once more, checking everything again. There was nothing between the mattresses, beneath the bed, or in drawers or on ledges. If there were secret openings, he could not find them, though he suspected the gap between door and floor was adequate to admit a gaseous attacker if that was how Ansanom meant to deal with him. The wizard would make it quick. He'd not want to take any chances. Perhaps while he slept, or a toxic mix while he bathed.

Ensel Rhe stopped prowling the room. He took a deep breath.

Perhaps there was no trap at all. He'd detected nothing untoward about the old wizard, and he and Aaron had been well-treated. Ensel Rhe reminded himself that they were here because of Aaron, not himself. This was not his life, with murder and betrayal around every corner. Ensel Rhe unbuckled his sword and tossed it onto the bed. Gloves tucked under his belt followed. Clearing his mind of suspicion and paranoia, he realized the only naysayer was Ursool, whose warnings and predictions were often right, but not every time. Perhaps, in this case, she had simply misjudged things. The witch had never even met Ansanom, so what did she really know about him?

Ensel Rhe might have let it go, but something about Serena's reaction troubled him. The statement had unbalanced her. Perhaps it was only genuine surprise that he'd leave so quickly after just arriving, or perhaps his departure conflicted with her master's plans. Ensel Rhe imagined her running down the stairs the moment he'd closed the door, off to tell her master. Cursing himself for not having cracked the door to observe, he went there now. He put his hand on the knob.

It would not turn.

He firmed his grip, adding his second hand to the effort. Still nothing. Ensel Rhe stepped back, centered himself, then launched a booted foot into the door. There was an audible thump, but the wood did not yield. There was only one way out of the room, and it was not here.

Ensel Rhe retrieved sword and gloves, then moved to the table where lie the tray of food and wine. He used his arm to shove the tray aside and immediately regretted it as the wine bottle shattered into a cloud of sapphire-colored smoke. He eyed the expanding cloud for less than a second, then he seized the table with both hands and threw it through the stained glass window. It had the desired effect, leaving only a few jagged pieces that Ensel Rhe promptly punched away. Beyond was a thin ledge and creeping vines that grew the length of the wall. Remembering the danger that had chased them here, he scanned the night for the hounds and their master. Seeing no sign of them, he took hold of a thick strand of the vines and stepped out onto the ledge. With singular determination, he made his way towards Aaron's room.

It was dark and cold, his breath appearing in short, impatient bursts. Faint candlelight from the next window over—Aaron's room—guided him. He was halfway there when he felt something twist around his leg. It squeezed his calf, hard enough that Ensel Rhe grunted in pain. Letting go of the vines with one hand, he drew his dagger and sliced down. The blade cut away the appendage and his leg was freed, but only for a moment as another grabbed hold of his other leg and yet another began snaking about his outstretched arm. He need not examine his attacker to know it was the vines themselves that assaulted him.

They came suddenly. The one at his arm twisted around his hand, the one already around his leg moved further up like a snake slithering up a tree, more wrapped about his outstretched arm, and still more went for his torso. Ensel Rhe reacted in kind, flipping his blade around to slice away at the vines clinging to his weapon arm. Then he cut at the ones wrapped around his leg and broke free of those encircling his torso by launching himself further along the ledge towards Aaron's window. He used the vines about his hand to keep from falling. But his leap was only met by more vines as they lashed at him all over again. From there, he fought for inches. The vines had no strategy. They simply came at him, twisting and entwining about any part of him they could. One dagger was not enough as a handful of thick vines gained purchase around his midriff. While Ensel Rhe was occupied with those, another wrapped around his thigh while yet another clenched hold of his other leg. The window was only scant feet away now. A vine lashed around his shoulder, pulling him closer to the wall while the others joined in trying to pin him there. Ensel Rhe's pace was slowed from a crawl to half a snail's pace. In another moment, he'd not move at all. How long, then, before they wrapped around his throat? Out of options, Ensel Rhe did the only thing he could. He kicked himself away from the wall. For one moment, suspended at the height of his swing, his vision swept the wall's breadth where vines slithered across it as if a bed of snakes. Then he was swinging not toward the wall but at the window. He smashed through the glass, landing on his feet, but with the vines still tangled about him. He ripped one arm free, drew his khatesh and, with three slices, freed himself.

He noticed right away that Aaron was gone. A long-necked wine bottle—identical to the one in Ensel Rhe's room—was uncorked and empty, with no trace remaining of the sorcerous gas. Still, he kept his distance in case lingering airs remained. The tub was partially filled. Steam still drifted from the heated water and Aaron's cloak lay draped over a chest at the foot of the untouched bed. The door leading out into the hallway was ajar. Ensel Rhe strode to it, pulling on it so hard it swung around on its hinges and hit the inside wall with an audible smack. Out in the hall, there was nothing. He peered over the balcony, down to the foyer where Ansanom and his apprentice had greeted them. He saw only the flickering shadows cast by the wall lanterns. Next, he looked up, where Ansanom's workshop was. An open stair, separate from the main one, spiraled up to that floor. Ensel Rhe took enough of the steps to gain a narrow view of flickering wall lanterns. Ascending the remainder of the steps in a rush, he found a balconied hall much like that of the second floor except that here there was only one door which, presently, was closed. Approaching it directly, Ensel Rhe smashed it open with one booted foot. He went in sword and dagger first.

Faint moonlight shone through a trio of small ceiling windows, bathing the room with minimal light. There were no torches, no candles, no braziers to give light to a wizard at work. Nor were there any open spellbooks or bubbling instruments. Whatever purpose the room served, it was no wizard's workshop.

Another trick.

A groan sounded behind him. Spinning around, he just saw an iron portcullis sliding down the length of the doorway. It hit the floor with a resounding clang. Ensel Rhe set weapons aside for a moment to grip the bars with both hands. After a few moments of exertion proved fruitless, Ensel Rhe turned back to the room. He examined every corner, every bit of the floor and ceiling, looking for any sign of another way out. But for a bookcase lined with dusty books, several tables mostly bare, and, standing at opposite corners, identical suits of armor complete with long swords and visored helmets shut tight, the room was empty. It was the suits of armor which held Ensel Rhe's attention the longest. They were of intricate design and deadly. Jagged spikes ran along vambraces and cuisses, pauldrons were crowned with a trio of barbs, and each breastplate was lined up and down with points of steel. Ensel Rhe had not had time to finish his inspection when, not entirely unexpectedly, the twin suits of armor began to shamble to life. Steam exuded from the necks and there was a whirring sound as gears began to spin. The scrape of metal, jingle of mail, and creak of leather stiff from too much time immobile sounded next. It was enough to cause Ensel Rhe to take a step away. More steam shot forth as arms lifted long swords in gauntleted hands. Then armored legs groaned and took one step and then another as the suits of armor lurched forward. Ensel Rhe, with nowhere to go, tightened his grip on his weapons and waited for the inevitable.

* * *

Aaron found waking a thoroughly unpleasant experience.

His head hurt, his body ached, and his mind felt laden with a fog so thick it was near suffocating. Though he was quite certain he willed his arms and legs to move, they would not respond. Through the haze, it was difficult to know for sure. He could at least tell that it was cold, especially along his back and that whatever it was he laid upon was hard. He realized that his shirt had been removed, as had his shoes and socks. Another attempt to move confirmed a suspicion that he was bound at his ankles and wrists. He'd been tied up before. It had been night. Corrin and his gang had stripped him to his drawers then dragged him into Even's Plaza to leave him bound to a crier's post. Fortunately, Aaron had gotten himself loose and found his clothes before morning had come and anyone had seen him. He didn't think he'd have such luck now.

"Awake so soon?"

A tall candelabra lined with a row of four blazing candles sprang to life. More light lit up behind him. For all their ambiance, the room remained quite dark.

"Master Ansanom," Aaron said, his voice not sounding right to his ears, "what… why am I…"

Aaron went silent as Ansanom's face appeared above his. The wizard peered down at Aaron through spectacles just perched at the tip of his nose. He wore green robes now that rustled about his person as he ground away at something in a small mortar. "I apologize for the dark," Ansanom said, "but some of the compounds do not abide the light until they have been rendered inert." The sorcerer halted his work and dipped two fingers into the mixture. His fingers came out covered in a dark, sooty concoction that he spread along both of Aaron's arms. He then walked to where Aaron's feet were bound. His gait was surprisingly smooth, bearing none of his earlier geriatric signs. Once he'd marked the tops of Aaron's feet in similar fashion, Ansanom exchanged the crucible for a knife.

Aaron saw the shine of the blade in the torchlight and tried to distance himself from it, but his bonds held him firm.

"What—What are you—"

Words became a cry of pain as Ansanom slashed the tip of the knife along Aaron's left arm precisely where he'd just spread the unguent. Aaron wracked himself against the table, straining every muscle, but the leather straps would not yield and, further, repaid him in kind by biting deeper into his flesh. Ansanom paid his antics no regard as he made his way around the table and slashed Aaron's other arm in an identical manner as the first. Aaron clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears streamed out anyway. Not another cry escaped his lips, though, not even a whimper, as Ansanom next moved to his feet and slashed them also.

Aaron heard the legs of a stool dragging across the floor. He opened his eyes to moist slits, watching as Ansanom sat down. With the sorcerer so close and the knife wet with blood—his blood—Aaron went into a fit. Trying to free himself, he arched his back, flexed his arms, and shifted his legs as much as he was allowed. None of it did any good.

Ansanom, recognizing the cause of Aaron's distress, put the knife away. "We're quite done with such unpleasantness."

Aaron didn't care. He continued to struggle against his bonds until, finally, pain and exhaustion won out, and he gave up.

When he was done, Ansanom spoke. "You came to my house full of questions. Now, you no doubt have many more. Why you were drugged, why you are strapped to a table, and, last, why I would betray not only you and our eslar friend, but my colleague, Elsanar, as well. I will answer all of your questions if you wish. First, though, you will tell me something. You will tell me of the Elements. Of the Five Elements."

Aaron mustered his courage, fixing the sorcerer with his best stare of defiance. "I don't know anything about the Elements, four or five or a hundred! When Ensel Rhe learns what you've done—"

"Your eslar friend will not be interrupting us." Ansanom fixed Aaron with a stare, then he rose from the stool and walked out of sight. "I believe you when you say you know nothing about the Elements," he said, his voice coming from out of the dark. "I doubt that, in the end, Elsanar himself knew much about them."

"Why are you doing this?"

No response, until the sorcerer returned and again sat. He crossed his arms across his chest. "Because of Erlek Abn Nee. He could have been a part of my new order. If circumstances had been different, perhaps he might have. Instead, he—or rather, Fate—chose a different path for him. Just as it also chose a different path for the Elements." Ansanom stood. "It may surprise you to know that I have one of them here. You can see it if you like, though I must admit it's not much to look at."

Ansanom disappeared from sight. After a few moments, the old wizard reappeared holding a covered brass urn. It was plain, with no markings. Ansanom removed the lid, tilting it so Aaron could see inside. It was filled with water.

"I told you it was not much to look at, eh?"

Ansanom returned the lid and disappeared from view. From somewhere behind Aaron, Ansanom kept talking.

"Erlek thought to claim the Four Elements for himself. He was denied such bounty by the devices' creators, for they hid the Elements away, then killed themselves so that no one could ever force the information from them. It was a perfect plan, one that might have thwarted Erlek for all time if only he hadn't found out that one of the four had not committed suicide after all. This man—Tarn Galangaul—settled at the outskirts of civilization. Sired children. It wasn't enough, though. He'd tasted the power of the Gods. One does not simply walk away from such a thing. He wanted the Elements—all of them—for himself. He knew only the location of the one, though, and so he sought clues to the others. Tarn left his family behind, trafficking with witches and other such ilk. Anything to find the missing three. He kept a journal, documenting his progress until the inexorable hands of time finally brought him to ground. On his deathbed, he received a visitor: Erlek Abn Nee, who'd been searching for Tarn for a very long time. Erlek had aged also, but not nearly so much as his years. By this time he'd found a way to stave off death, of course. Though Tarn's fate was certain, Erlek killed him anyway, and stole his journal.

"Erlek was never a druid. He'd never tasted their power. But to see it, ah, just to have witnessed it must have been a wonder unto itself. It is not hard to fathom why Erlek wants the power of the Four Elements for himself. It is puzzling, however, why a fifth Element was never mentioned." Ansanom hove into view again and fixed Aaron with a stare. "Perhaps I shall ask Erlek when he arrives."

"Erlek is coming here?" That could mean only one thing. "You've made a deal with him, haven't you? You've been working with him all along."

"Yes, of course. In exchange for the Element of Water, which I just showed you, Erlek brings with him a horde of druid knowledge that is really quite useless to me because I already have much of it. He, however, does not know that."

"What is your plan, then? To kill him and keep the Element for yourself?"

"Why, yes! That is exactly my plan. With Erlek out of the way, recovering the other Elements from his boy—a distant cousin of yours, I imagine—should be a trivial task. You see, by the time Erlek arrives here, he will have already recovered the other three Elements. In short, all of the Elements will be mine."

"Then why do you need me?"

"Because you, Aaron, are possessed of a very special gift."

"What 'gift'? Everyone seems to think I'm something special." Aaron slumped against the table. "I'm not." Staring at the dark of the ceiling, he was suddenly weary beyond measure. "You're going to turn me over to Erlek, aren't you? You're going to let him kill me."

"No. Certainly not. Erlek will never even know you are here. You, Aaron, are far too important to give up. I'd been trying to get you here for some time, but always Elsanar stood in the way. Claimed you were too valuable to spare, even for a single sennight. Ultimately, with time running out, I had to press my point with greater emphasis."

Aaron thought a moment. Some of the pieces were finally falling into place. "You sent the assassins! But they weren't really assassins at all, were they? They weren't going to kill me. They were just supposed to scare me."

"More or less. They were to have frightened Elsanar mostly, so that he would release his grip on you and send you away to where your protection could be guaranteed. It is to my fortune that you were not slain in the attack launched by Erlek and that you are now here in my company after all."

Ansanom said nothing else as he stood and moved around the table, gathering four small bowls set beneath Aaron's arms and legs where the sorcerer had cut him. Each contained a small amount of blood mixed with whatever unguent the wizard had smeared there. Though the sorcerer then moved off beyond the aura of light provided by the candelabras, more lights flared to life, and so Aaron followed Ansanom's path to another table, this one piled high with instruments and vessels and books where he busied himself mixing first one and then another of the small bowls of Aaron's blood with some unknown substance. Finished, he turned to face Aaron. "It is as I feared. Your blood does not react with the alchemical solution. Not as I expected, to be sure. But not completely unanticipated." The wizard crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the table's edge.

"Then it must prove I'm not whoever you think I am," Aaron said, a glimmer of hope forming.

Ansanom looked up. "I'm afraid not. It only means I need to dig deeper, to extract other… substances."

Aaron did not like the sound of that. "Why do you need anything from me at all?"

"Because you, Aaron, possess a very special attunement to the Elements. As you very well know, attunement, like any magic, is both a function of the mind and of the body. There are certain chemical processes within us that dictate its potential as well as its degree. Duplicating attunement, while difficult, is not impossible. It is my intention to not only measure your attunement to the Elements, but, more importantly, to duplicate it."

Aaron opened his mouth to argue that point, to tell Ansanom once more that he was not who he thought he was, but he only sighed in resignation.

"It is an alchemical process when one gets right down to it. Through careful measurement and monitoring, I will first learn the frequency to which your attunement is calibrated. Then, through the extraction of certain fluids and organs, I will reveal the specific alchemical quantities needed to duplicate that attunement. The extraction process, I'm afraid, is quite exacting. You will not survive the experience."

Ansanom moved to a deeper part of the laboratory where he almost faded into the darkness. But once again, lights flared to life ahead of him until the room was lit all the way to a bare, earthy wall. The space between was clogged with some great metallic contraption, with gears and vats and tubules filled with some darkish fluid. Aaron had never seen the like. Not sure if he should be fascinated or horrified at the sight of it, his thoughts were jarred from either possibility when the table beneath him trembled and shook and then pulled free of its legs. The table did not collapse, but instead drifted—with Aaron still secured to it—across the room towards the master sorcerer and the great machine. Knowing it did him no good, Aaron strained against his bonds anyway. While he did so, the tabletop slid into place at one side of the machine so that he was now near vertical, with the great bulk of the thing at his back and the leather straps biting into his wrists and ankles all the more. Aaron felt the tooth Ursool had given him resting against his chest now. The sorcerer had either not recognized its worth or thought it had none, for he'd not removed it.

Aaron heard a lever squeak. Above him, a metal assembly consisting of a drum with a thin arm at either end lowered, stopping just above his head. The hinged arms swung lower, so that one was at either side of his temples. By shifting his eyes side to side, Aaron saw that each was tipped with a crystalline quill.

"The machine behind you is a device of my own making," Ansanom said as he walked into view. "I call it my 'extraction engine'. You see, a magical means of duplicating the chemical attunement eluded me for so long I finally came to the conclusion that, even with your bodily material to study, sorcery simply was not the answer. So, I turned to a hybrid approach, melding techniques of sorcery with science. The device works in such a way that—Oh, well, perhaps a demonstration would best illustrate its function. Here, let me show you."

Ansanom lifted a hand and, with the movement of a single finger, brought the extraction engine to life. The whole contraption shuddered as gears lurched into motion and metal grated on metal. Every jolt, every vibration rattled the table beneath Aaron. He felt heat, though he smelled no smoke. Then the crystalline quills to either side of his head moved closer. His movement already limited, Aaron had nowhere to go. There was a stillness in the air around him for one moment, then the world blazed into a hell of sorcerous energy. Aaron opened his mouth to scream. Whatever sound came forth was drowned out by the thrum and sizzle lancing through his flesh and into his bones. It lasted only a moment, then it was over. Aaron saw only white brilliance as he slumped against his restraints. It took some time for cognizance to return. When it did, he saw Ansanom, staring at him and mumbling. A look of puzzlement lined his face.

"Something is not right, something… the energy stream… is this… could this be Elsanar's doing?" He shook his head while scratching at his beard. "Did my dear friend anticipate my actions after all? What could he have done?" Ansanom paced one way and then the other. "It is not inconceivable that he might have altered your—"

"I told you…" Aaron forced the words out through a throat gone raw. "I'm not who you think I am."

Ansanom flashed Aaron a look of annoyance, as if he might strike him for his stubborn insistence. Instead, he started to pace again, but then stopped almost immediately. He walked to one of his work tables where he consulted a tome lying there. Flipping through a number of pages, he stopped at several to read more thoroughly. When he was finished, he flipped the cover closed and approached the extraction engine and Aaron.

"It seems my calculations may have been a bit off. It is not completely unexpected, for I am, after all, charting new territory."

"Does that mean you're done with your experiment?" Aaron tried to moisten his lips, but his mouth had gone completely dry.

"On the contrary, it means I must raise the dosage my extraction engine is administering."

Aaron mouthed a feeble plea for him to stop, but it was lost in the growing din of the engine as it was brought to life again. As the quills lit up at either side of his head, the pain began anew. Aaron struggled against it, clenching his teeth until he felt they might shatter. It was worse this time, the pain silencing thought and blinding his senses. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. Behind him, over the low drone of the engine, Aaron thought he heard the old wizard muttering something about the continued lack of response. Aaron didn't bother trying to talk to him. He knew his overtures would fall on deaf ears. He was given a few minutes of recourse before the noise from the engine intensified again. Once more, the crystalline quills glowed brightly, forming a circuit with Aaron's brain as the connecting medium. Again, agony ripped through him. This time, it didn't stop, but went on and on.

* * *

The sound of whirring gears occupied the room as the twin suits of armor creaked and clanged across the wood floor. Their movements were imprecise and heavy, as if an unsure puppeteer pulled their strings, yet such inexactitude did not extend to their swords which gauntleted hands held steady, the cutting edges ready to strike. The armor itself, lined with barbs and spikes, need only graze flesh to inflict harm.

Knowing a dagger through an eye slit or a sword thrust through a chink were useless gestures, Ensel Rhe nevertheless let them come closer. But not too close. Before they could pen him in, he selected one of them and charged. The suddenness of his attack elicited little response except that the suit started to adjust the angle of its outstretched blade. The movement of vambraces and gauntlets was slow. Ensel Rhe easily knocked its blade aside with his khatesh right before he launched a single booted foot between spikes on the automaton's corselet. The blow sent the armor staggering. Metallic sabatons rang out across the floor as it back-pedaled in an attempt to remain upright. It was just steadying itself when Ensel Rhe finished the job with another kick. Its impact on the floor left the suit intact but for its helmet, which came loose and rolled away.

Ensel Rhe did not press his advantage. He wasn't sure he really had one, anyway. He backed away, careful to keep distance between himself and the still upright armor even as the gears of the fallen suit whirred with new intensity as it worked at righting itself. It took it only a few moments. Headless now, it again advanced on the eslar.

Moving to one corner, where a hefty bookcase lined with dusty tomes sat against the wall, Ensel Rhe sheathed his sword and dagger and tried moving it. He let out a satisfied grunt as it rocked forward before settling to its original position. There couldn't be a more obvious indication as to what he planned, yet both suits moved closer without regard. The moment they were both squarely beneath the bookcase, Ensel Rhe put all of his strength into toppling it. The bookcase rocked, swayed, then, with one final effort, crashed forward onto the advancing suits. The metallic automatons disappeared beneath a shower of books, wooden shelving, and a vaporous cloud of dust.

Ensel Rhe headed straight away for the portcullis, wrapping both fists around its bars, crouching, then lifting. Just like before, it did not budge. He glanced over one shoulder. The one suit that had taken the brunt of the bookshelf remained buried. But the other was already clear of the debris and scrambling to regain its feet. Ensel Rhe heaved against the gate again. Still, nothing. He looked over his shoulder to gauge the armor's progress. It was almost risen. When his focus returned to the gate, he let it go and almost took a step away, for he was not alone.

Ansanom's apprentice, Serena, stood before him. There was no sign of her master.

"I've come to release you," she said. Ensel Rhe saw that her eyes were moist, the rims of them red. "But only if—what happened to your face?"

More than just his face, Ensel Rhe's arms, legs, and torso burned with lines of pain. He'd felt the blood, drawn by the slithering vines, oozing down his skin and drying so that his clothing stuck to it, but he'd hereto ignored the damage. He continued to do so now, waiting for the girl to continue.

"But only if you promise to… kill my master."

Ensel Rhe narrowed his gaze. "You need no such promise from me to see that deed done, especially if he has harmed Aaron. But, if it satisfies you, I promise."

That satisfied her, for she disappeared from view and, seconds later, the gate rose. The moment there was enough clearance, Ensel Rhe ducked beneath it. It slammed shut behind him.

Serena was there on the balcony, just releasing her hand from a lever hidden in the wall.

Ensel Rhe drew his khatesh. "Where is Aaron?"

"There's a hidden stair in the dining room, beneath the fireplace. Master Ansanom has him there in his laboratory." She glanced at the portcullis where the animated suits of armor, still intent on slaying Ensel Rhe, clanged against the iron bars. "His real laboratory."

"Hidden?" Ensel Rhe asked. "How do I reveal it?"

Serena started for the stairs. "Come! I will show you."

"No." Ensel Rhe grabbed her shoulder to stop her. "Ansanom does not know you have helped me. If he sees us together… . Better you tell me, then remain here. It will be safer for you if I fail."

Serena thought for a moment, then she nodded and told him what he needed to know.

The moment she was finished, Ensel Rhe released his grip on her, placed one hand on the balcony's railing, and, without any warning, jumped over it. He left the third floor of Wildemoore Manor behind, sailed past its second where the door to Aaron's room remained smashed open, and landed in a crouch on the exact spot where he and Aaron had fallen when they'd first tumbled into Wildemoore.

At the fireplace, he found the statuary—a gargoyle at rest that he'd scarce noticed earlier—and pulled on it. The motion had the desired effect as the fireplace, a fire still lit within, swung out from the wall. Just as Serena had said, a hidden stair that led down into darkness stood revealed. Ensel Rhe was through the exposed opening before the stair had finished sliding outward. It was so dark that after he'd taken only a handful of steps he had to feel his way forward using one hand held before him. The stair was long, but narrow, its steps shallow enough for an old man to easily descend them. At the bottom, Ensel Rhe saw light at the end of a long passage. As he approached, he sheathed his sword in favor of his knives. With one in each hand, he walked down the broadening passage and into a chamber that could only be described as cavernous. He'd barely taken three steps into it when he spotted Ansanom.

The sorcerer stood next to a giant, mechanical contraption, the workings of which absorbed the sorcerer's full attention. He had not witnessed Ensel Rhe's entrance. Aaron, however, had. Strapped to a table, Aaron looked on him with eyes filled with weariness and despair.

Visibly spinning gears within the machine emitted low squeaks and hums, further masking Ensel Rhe's already quiet approach. Ansanom might be old, but he was still a master sorcerer. Ensel Rhe could ill afford any missteps or mistakes. He'd announce his arrival by plunging his knives into the wizard's back.

"Tell me, boy," Ansanom said without moving, "was there anyone else at the keep, someone else Elsanar kept close? Someone else he watched over? Someone he tutored?"

Ensel Rhe ducked behind one of the work tables.

"No," Aaron croaked. "There was no one else. Just me."

Ansanom hovered close to Aaron’s side. Something was in his hand. He held it to the dim light and shook it for a moment.

"This is strange," Ansanom said, shaking his head as he examined the vial. "The engine's output is more than sufficient to generate the reaction within you, yet I see nothing. How—" Ansanom froze, then he whirled around. For one moment, Ensel Rhe thought he'd somehow detected his presence. But the sorcerer had not. He headed straightaway for a table where he picked up a piece of parchment thick with scrawlings. Ensel Rhe rose from his place of concealment. He'd not give Ansanom another chance to get near Aaron. While the sorcerer's attention was fixed on the parchment, Ensel Rhe stepped around the table with his knives ready. A sudden outburst from the sorcerer stopped him.

"This—How...?" Ansanom crumpled the parchment. "It would only make sense if... if..." Silence, then his fists slammed down upon the table in unison. The vial of blood in his hand shattered. "No... No...” His head shook. “No! No! No! Elsanar! You tricked me!" Ansanom spun around, his face contorted with rage.

His eyes went wide when he saw Ensel Rhe.

The knives flew, but it was too late. With a flick of one wrist, Ansanom sent both knives veering off-course. One disappeared into the shadows. The other embedded itself in the table Aaron lay upon precisely between his right arm and his head.

The knives had barely left his hands before Ensel Rhe had khatesh and dagger drawn. He made it all of three steps before Ansanom lifted the eslar from the ground as easily as he'd diverted the knives, flinging him away so that he slammed into the ragged subterranean wall. He remained there, half a dozen hands from the ground, pinned and helpless.

Ansanom approached his newest captive. "What did you know of this betrayal?"

"The only betrayal I know of is yours," Ensel Rhe hissed.

Ansanom flicked his wrist and the eslar was no longer pinned but flung across the chamber. He hit the opposite wall with a bone-crunching thud. His weapons fell from his hands.

"You were Elsanar's man," Ansanom said, addressing Ensel Rhe from the center of the chamber now. "You must have known something. Or were we both duped, eh? Are you as big a fool as I?"

When Ensel Rhe said nothing in reply, Ansanom looked away. He rubbed at his forehead with one hand as he went on. "Erlek told me this boy was of the ancestry of the mighty Tarn Galangaul. If it were true, his attunement to the earth would be enormous. Did Elsanar fool Erlek as well?" His hand dropped so that both hung at his sides, clenching into fists. "Instead the boy is an empty vessel." He looked up again. "He is worthless!"

"If that is true, then let him go," Ensel Rhe said, his voice calm, but strained, as if the pressure exerted on him robbed him of breath. "We came to you seeking safety, not treachery. You were supposed to keep Aaron safe."

"Safe?" Ansanom took a step toward his newest captive. "Safe? No one is safe!" His voice boomed from the earthen walls. "Not as long as Erlek Abn Nee possesses even one of the Elements! What you saw at Norwynne was nothing! You have no idea what destruction that ghoul will wreak upon the world should he gain them all. Only I stand in his way! By now he will have two of the Elements. Perhaps even the third. Only I, with the power of the Elements, can stop him."

"And once you are done dispatching Erlek," Ensel Rhe said, heaving in a breath, "what destruction will you then wreck on the world? How many more poisoned bottles do you have ready and waiting?"

"Bah! You understand nothing."

"You're wrong, sorcerer. I understand greed and the lust for power more intimately than you ever will. I know what such things do to men. I know how far one will go to satisfy their call. You speak of what this Erlek Abn Nee will do with the Elements. I worry more what you will do with them, for while Erlek may have evil in his heart, it is your treachery I have seen with my own eyes."

Ansanom, tired of the conversation, brought his fist down. In response, Ensel Rhe crashed to the ground. A wave of the sorcerer's arm and he was flung across the nearest of the work tables, scattering glass and metal paraphernalia to the floor as he plowed through the table's contents. Clear of the table, he kept sliding along the floor until he crashed into the far wall. There was no movement right away, not until first one arm stirred and then another. With visible effort, he stood and then took a single step toward the sorcerer. That single step was all he was allowed as, once more, Ansanom froze him in place.

"Perhaps all is not lost here," Ansanom said as he strolled across the laboratory. "You must know something of the Five Elements. Elsanar never mentioned them to me. Aaron claims he knows nothing of it. I wonder, then, how much do you know?"

"I have already told you all I know," Ensel Rhe said. "But even if I knew every last secret about them, still I would tell you nothing."

"Oh, I think you will tell me everything." Ansanom held out one hand and clutched the fingers of it together like a vise. Ensel Rhe shuddered. "You will tell me—" Ansanom gestured to the ceiling with his clenched fist. Ensel Rhe flew vertically, in a straight line, up and up until an audible thud announced his impact with the ceiling. "—everything you know—" Another gesture, this time toward the far wall, as Ensel Rhe slid across the jagged ceiling. "—about the Five Elements—" The wall's presence brought his flight to an abrupt halt. "—or when I am done with you, I shall do the same to the boy." The wizard released his hold and Ensel Rhe, who was crumpled into a ceiling crevice, slid down the wall to crash into a shadowed corner. There was a noise from the darkness—a gasp of pain, a heaving of breath, then the sound of spitting. Then a thing—a shambling, hunched, man-like apparition, twisted and contorted, each step heavy and slow, emerged from the shadows. One arm hung uselessly at the thing's side. The opposite leg was twisted so that its booted foot slid sideways along the floor as it moved. It stopped, swaying once. Then it spoke. "You… will not… harm him." Despite this thing's appearance, it still spoke with the hard, unforgiving, and deadly voice of Ensel Rhe.

"Still such bravado," Ansanom said, sighing. He curled a finger and the eslar dropped to his knees. Ansanom moved to stand directly in front of him. "Now," he said, "let us discuss what you know."

* * *

Aaron watched as Ensel Rhe entered the room and approached Ansanom. The old sorcerer asked Aaron a question. Aaron responded, hoping he instilled enough despair in his voice to satisfy the circumstances and not betray his rising sense of hope. Then, just when it looked as if Ansanom was about to get two knives in the back, the wizard launched into a verbal tirade, turned around, and spotted Ensel Rhe. The knives left the eslar's hands, but it was too late. With a gesture, the sorcerer deflected them. The one went into the shadows. The other, coming straight for him, caused Aaron to close his eyes. Ansanom was already tossing Ensel Rhe about the room by the time he opened them.

"Stop!"

Aaron tried to yell the words, but his throat was so dry it emitted only an inaudible croak. He slumped against the table, his bonds the only thing holding him upright. Then, from the corner of one eye, he saw Ensel Rhe's knife. He reached for it, straining against the straps. He was just able to grip the handle. But it was stuck fast. Mindful of Ansanom, Aaron worked at it, pushing and pulling as best he could. At first, it didn’t move at all. His strength, never enough on his best day, was diminished significantly. Still, he kept at it, until he was able to shift the blade back and forth. Finally, it came free. He almost dropped it.

A moment of panic gave way to relief as he firmed his grip on the knife's handle. Slowly, he started sawing at the bonds holding one hand. Despite nicking his hand more than once, he worked the leather strap to a thread. A quick yank broke it loose from the table. Then he went to work on the others. Ansanom had momentarily halted his abuse of Ensel Rhe as he rambled on about something. Aaron didn't know—didn't dare take the time to look—if Ensel Rhe had seen his progress, but the eslar did his part, keeping the old sorcerer engaged in conversation while Aaron loosed the last of his bonds.

He lowered himself from the table, careful to remain quiet and mindful that his body remained weak, drained by the extraction process. Thinking he'd no more use for the knife, he placed it quietly on the ground. Ansanom was a distance away, his neck craned nearly towards the ceiling where he'd trapped Ensel Rhe. The sorcerer's back was to Aaron and the extraction engine. Aaron slinked down its length, heading straightaway for the controls. The machine's innards were mostly exposed, much like a clock with its housing pulled away. Aaron saw spiraling tubules, metallic vats, thin pipes, rods, and gears of all sizes. The controls were a mix of levers and dials. The engine continued to emit a low hum. Knowing any change in that monotone was sure to attract the wizard's attention, Aaron dared not pull a single lever or twist a single dial. Instead, he studied it. He dismissed everything else, blocking out Ensel Rhe's words of defiance and deafening his ears to Ansanom's rebuttal until there was only the extraction engine and its continuous hum. Wanting a better view, Aaron did not hesitate to find purchase for one foot and then the other as he hoisted himself up one side. A brief pause dispelled a moment of dizziness, then he followed the lines of tubules and pipes that led away from the controls and into the heart of the machine. It was pressure-controlled, with valves that opened or closed based on the configuration of the levers and dials at the control station. Fluids under pressure were housed in the vats. Pipes carried the fluids throughout the assembly. Some of them were strictly for lubrication of the gears and other moving parts. These were of no interest. Aaron was principally concerned with the ones that sprung from the crystalline quills and their associated apparatuses. He followed the pipes there, scrambling for footing as he checked to see if the quills came loose. They did. Then he followed the pipes out to a series of smaller vats interconnected to one another. These were the engine's collecting tanks. Aaron almost wished he had more time to study the whole of it. Despite what it had been designed to do, it was still a fascinating piece of machinery. For now, though, he had all the information he needed.

Ansanom was still engaged, speaking to Ensel Rhe. More importantly, he hadn't noticed Aaron's movement. Though Aaron had not followed their conversation, it was not hard to figure out that Ensel Rhe had maintained his defiance and that it had done him no favors. Just as Ansanom hurled Ensel Rhe across the table, Aaron activated the extraction engine. He pulled on one lever and gave a half-turn to one of the dials. Above him, he heard Ensel Rhe, under Ansanom's power, crash into one wall and then another. The engine's hum heightened, but only subtly. Ansanom, so enraptured by his manhandling of the eslar, noticed nothing. Aaron pulled at another lever. Gears trembled into motion, pipes shook as pressurized fluid flowed, and glass tubules glowed with ever increasing energy. Satisfied, and with no time to spare, Aaron made several random adjustments: levers and dials he knew would have no affect but which might help confuse Ansanom. Then he ducked around the other side of the engine, stopping at the collecting vats to tighten—and seal—the intake valve. Ansanom wasn't going to extract anything from anyone ever again. Aaron stayed in place, hidden, waiting for Ansanom to notice the engine's activity.

His wait was short. Though the whir of gears and the pumping of fluid had not grown as loud as when Ansanom had used the engine on Aaron, it was loud enough that he now noticed it. The sorcerer turned away from Ensel Rhe, who'd been brought to his knees, took one look at the re-activated engine and the table where he'd bound Aaron—empty now—and said, "Eh? What's this?" There was no worry in his voice, but he hurried to the engine's controls. Aaron stayed hidden, positioning himself behind one corner of the table and just beneath the crystal quills. He let the old wizard reach the panel, then he detached both of the quills, careful that the tubules connecting them to the engine did not come loose.

As Aaron had hoped, Ansanom saw the alterations he'd made to the controls and immediately saw to correcting them. It was all the distraction Aaron needed. With one quill in each hand, Aaron ran at the sorcerer. Trailing behind him, the tubules uncoiled. He was almost to the sorcerer when Ansanom saw him. Aaron's muscles froze as the sorcerer's magic took hold. Ansanom stared at him, his brow raised and the beginnings of a smile just forming on his lips. The next instant, the smile became a gasp as the point of a sword erupted from his midsection. Behind the sorcerer stood a snarling Ensel Rhe.

The force holding Aaron lifted. As if he'd never stopped, he ran at the sorcerer. The moment he was close enough, he stabbed the quills into him. Energy exploded all around the wizard, knocking Aaron and Ensel Rhe away, but the quills held fast. The wizard howled in pain, his form instantly growing so brilliant Aaron had to look away.

Aaron found Ensel Rhe. The two nearly fell into each other's grasp, leaning on one another for support.

"We have to get out of here," Aaron said.

They'd crossed half the lab when Serena came running through the entry. She took one look at her master and his predicament and, without a word, ran to the table where the Element of Water lay. Cradling the urn beneath one arm, she joined Aaron and Ensel Rhe. Together, they started towards the exit. Behind them, the air sizzled with energy as Ansanom howled in pain.

They threw themselves from the chamber, stumbled down the passage, and hobbled up the flight of stairs. The dining room was a blur as they made their way to the manor's front door. All three piled out into the cool night air. They made it a dozen paces when Aaron and Ensel Rhe stumbled together and toppled to the ground. Serena, who currently possessed more vitality than the two of them combined, encouraged them to rise.

"We cannot go any further," Ensel Rhe said, his breathing labored. He pointed, a half-hearted gesture. "Not until we deal with them."

Aaron and Serena followed the line of Ensel Rhe's finger. From the dark, his broad-bladed death dealer held in one hand, emerged Krosus. Behind him came his hounds.

Ensel Rhe tried to stand, but he faltered and fell to the ground. Aaron did likewise. Only Serena, with the Element of Water grasped in both hands, remained standing to face the pack.

Behind them, Wildemoore Manor shuddered as noise from the overloading extraction engine swept over them. It rose to a fevered pitch, drowning out everything. The manor trembled again as the earth shook. A boom sounded from below them, the shock of it nearly tossing them into the air. It was enough to knock Serena from her feet. She did not rise, but instead huddled alongside the others. In the next instant, Wildemoore Manor, home of the great wizard Ansanom, exploded in a shower of rock, timber, and earth.

18. Amongst the Clouds

THE GRIFFIN'S ENGINE SPEWED SMOKE and heat through the deck's exhaust pipes as the airship sailed up and away from Cauldron Mountain. Once the fires of Anaktoa were a pinprick in the distance behind them, the Griffin began a steep ascent, rising higher and higher until they approached the very underside of the clouds. An unspoken signal must have been conveyed, for crewmen started breaking out an assortment of gear: heavy wool jackets, fur-lined boots and gloves, and, most striking of all, masks that covered the face and that had tubes extending from a mouthpiece to small, belt-mounted tanks that Shanna learned were full of air. Right away, as the Griffin ascended through the lowermost clouds, she recognized their necessity, for gradually, as if someone were stealing her very breath, it became more and more difficult to breathe. She took deep breaths to compensate, but it did no good. Her head swam and she felt faint.

"The air is thinner here," Erlek said from next to her in a dry, monotone voice.

Shanna started. She'd neither seen nor heard his approach. Though she loathed his presence, the suddenness of his appearance at least forced her to shake off the slow grip of panic brought about by the thinning air.

"We will remain this high only as long as it takes to secure the next Element." From the ship's foredeck, he probed the way ahead as if he could see through the mistiness of the clouds. "Two of them are ours now. Soon, we shall have the third."

Shanna didn't say anything right away. At first, she hoped the man would just go away. She hated the way he always stood so close. She leaned away, taking a small step from him in the process. The movement jostled the satchel that still hung at her side. The bowl that was the Element of Earth remained within. It was joined by a small obsidian box where rested the Element of Fire. The obsidian box was necessary, Erlek had said, to contain the Element lest it set the airship ablaze. Shanna thought about excusing herself and returning to her cabin, but her curiosity got the best of her. "The third. But what about the fourth?"

"The fourth has already been retrieved," Erlek said. "I only need meet with its caretaker to exchange for it."

A shiver went through the man. Shanna saw his breath as visible puffs. It was cold, she realized, seeing many of the airmen buttoning tight their wool jackets. Strange she hadn't noticed anything herself. But for the thinning air, she felt perfectly fine.

Shanna was just about to probe for more information when the mist parted and suddenly the Griffin was above the clouds. Her question died on her lips as she was overwhelmed by a night sky she had hereto only imagined. Millions of pinpricks blazed across the dark veil, twinkling, signaling, almost calling to her. They were so close, too, as if she might reach out and grab hold of them if only the Griffin would climb just a little higher. Shanna relished the sight for as long as she could, or at least until she realized that Erlek still stood close. It was with some disappointment that she returned her attention to their discussion.

"What about the third then?" she asked.

While Shanna had been delighting in the night sky, the Griffin had leveled off, the rush of her engine diminished, so that she now just skimmed the tops of the clouds.

"The Element of Air lies ahead. Those entrusted with hiding the Four Elements thought they were clever, hiding each of the artifacts deep within the elemental sphere to which it belonged. I learned that Earth was deep underground. Water, immersed beneath the sea in a sunken city. Fire, in the bowels of a volcano. And Air. Killius Roe was the elementalist entrusted with the Element of Air. Much like ourselves, he soared aloft, searching for a place to secret away his charge. What he found, hidden amongst the clouds, was Valacia. Its name means 'Palace of the Skies'."

A palace, hidden amongst the clouds? A week ago, Shanna might not have believed it. Now, she accepted it without question.

"Valacia is an elusive place to find. Once, I knew its location. But that was before I had commissioned to have the Griffin built. The palace moved, carried along by the winds, so the knowledge of where it had been soon became useless. Valacia never remains in the same place for long, for, you see, it flows with the very air. Many years of collecting data and studying the patterns of the winds while onboard this very ship finally revealed its course to me. Now, if my calculations are correct—and, of course, they are—we follow in its wake."

Shanna felt the man’s stare on her.

"You did well with the Element of Fire. Perhaps my approach to your learning has been flawed. I release you from further lessons. Now, I must see to matters below."

Shanna stayed, only mildly surprised that Erlek seemed content to allow her to keep the two Elements in her possession. Perhaps Erlek let her keep them because there was nowhere for her to go as long as the airship remained aloft. Perhaps he simply knew that, now, he could not take them from her.

Shanna wanted to remain abovedeck, but she soon noticed she was the only nonessential person remaining. Most hatches leading below had been sealed already. She saw there was only one still visibly open, presumably for her. The airship's crew, with their heavy jackets, gloves, and masks looked alien to her now. Though their eyes were concealed behind circular oculars, still she felt them on her. There was little kindness in them. Suspicion, mistrust, perhaps fear. They knew their mission and what she'd been sent down into Cauldron Mountain to retrieve. But there was more to it than that. Engus Rul hadn't said a word to her since she'd taken control of the Element of Fire. He'd hardly looked at her, except to flash her a look of disappointment. Shanna knew what they all feared the most: that she was becoming another Erlek. She wished there was a way to reassure them she was not. But no one came near her unless some ship's task required it. At those times they saw to their duty, not looking her way or saying a word to her before they were off, leaving her alone once more. Even Tom seemed to want nothing to do with her now. Once she'd returned onboard Shanna had tried to exchange a glance with him, but he’d refused to return her acknowledgment.

Now, memory of it caused her to leave the thin air abovedeck for the pressurized areas below. She made her way straight to her room, sequestering herself there. It was several hours before anyone came to her door. Shanna knew it was Mirna by the soft knock. Resting in her hammock, Shanna did not respond to the woman's request for entry. The woman soon went away. Shanna immersed herself in the solitude, staring at the ceiling when lying on her back and the floor when on her stomach. Eventually, Mirna returned. This time, she entered, but so quietly Shanna never even heard the door open. It was only to leave a tray of food, though, and she soon left, closing the door behind her as quietly as she’d come. Shanna eyed the food, thinking she was hungry, but the sight of it only churned her belly in an unwholesome manner. She rolled over, closed her eyes, and must have dozed off, for the next time she looked about the first tray of food had been replaced by another. This time, Shanna did eat. She took the tray to the hammock, draped herself across it, and consumed the meal of lukewarm stew without relish or taste. When she was finished, she curled into the hammock, staring at the ceiling until sleep reclaimed her.

When next Shanna woke it was to find Mirna standing at her side, the woman's hand lightly shaking her awake. No words passed between them. Mirna's look told Shanna all she needed to know. They had arrived. Shanna rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then lowered herself from the hammock. She took a moment to wash from a basin Mirna had brought. Once finished, she gathered the Elements and, with Mirna a step behind her, the two made their way to the upper decks. Or at least as far as they were allowed before having to don the airmen's high altitude clothing. There was a jacket a tad long and insulated boots made for a cabin boy, but they fit Shanna well enough. Gloves and the mask also, the latter with straps adjusted to their smallest and a belt with two of the air tanks. Shanna was instructed to breathe normally. She found the mask restricted her vision as she stared through the slightly scratched, circular oculars and felt the jacket and boots overkill, for while the interior of the airship had gotten colder, she still experienced no discomfort. Except that by wearing them Shanna knew she'd stand out less. Right now, she very much wanted to blend in.

There was a suit for Mirna, but she politely excused herself, saying she wasn't to leave the ship and so would remain belowdeck. The hatch was opened just long enough for Shanna to go through alone.

The Griffin had come to a stop, or at least moved at a very slow cruising speed, keeping time but still some distance from a bank of clouds from which the palace of Valacia sprung. Right away, Shanna's notion of a great castle floating amidst the clouds was dispelled, for there were no walls, no turrets, no towers. There were instead pillars, arranged in rows that disappeared into the ever-shifting mist. In the distance, statues rose up singly and in pairs at regular intervals amongst the columns. Despite the meaning of the place's name, Valacia really wasn't a palace at all. More a temple, Shanna thought. A magnificent temple, set upon the clouds by sorcery of a kind Shanna imagined no longer existed and, according to Erlek, by a race gone extinct a millennium ago. Even in her most vivid dreams Shanna doubted she'd ever imagined such a place. Her eyes were locked on nothing else as the Griffin sailed closer. Gradually, the airship descended, until she was only a stone's throw from the first of the pillars. Then she slowed, matching the moving cloud's speed until the two were as one.

The expedition was the same as before: Erlek, with his sitheri guard, Engus Rul, carrying his covered axe, and Shanna. All but the snakemen wore high altitude clothing, though Engus Rul had chosen not to wear the wool jacket. Shanna doubted there was one broad enough for him, anyway. The sitheri showed no signs of discomfort, though it seemed to Shanna their movements were slower, their breathing more shallow.

Several mates secured and lowered a rope as before, though the distance they'd have to descend was nothing compared to when they'd hovered over Cauldron Mountain. While the group waited for them to finish, Erlek spoke, his voice muffled from behind his mask.

"Valacia is an ancient place, built in a forgotten age, by ones whom scholars knew little enough about even five hundred years ago. Empyreans, they were called. They were a gifted people, inventive, and, as you can well imagine, masters of flight. But they are gone now, their secrets lost.

"Killius Roe chose this place for a reason, for one does not simply walk into an Empyrean palace without paying a price. It is why, even on land, their temples, sanctuaries, and cities remain unmolested. The Empyreans may be gone, but something of them remains. It is a sort of magic which no one fully understands. Some call it a testament to the Empyreans' strength. Others call it what it is: a curse. Whatever it may be, it does not suffer trespassers—or thieves—lightly."

"But the Element…" Shanna began. Speaking through the mask, her voice sounded odd to her ears, as if she were underwater. "We're not stealing it. It doesn't belong here. It doesn't belong to the Empyreans." She wasn't sure how she knew this, but she did.

"That matters not. Killius left the Element of Air behind. Whatever curse guards this place also now guards the Element."

"So how are we going to deal with this… curse? Surely you know a way around it. Why else would we be here?"

"Of course." There was such smugness in his voice Shanna imagined he must be smiling.

With the rope declared ready, Erlek wasted no time, following the first of his sitheri over the side. The second snake-warrior went next, followed by Engus Rul, who stopped right before lowering himself to eye Shanna. "You should have burned him alive in the bowels of Anaktoa." They were the first words the dwarf had spoken to her since they'd returned. He left no opportunity for reply as he lowered himself down the rope.

Shanna chewed her lip and glanced out over the side as she'd done before. The Griffin was much closer to the 'ground' this time. The first sitheri and Erlek already walked about on the thick layer of white. Though their feet and ankles were lost in the vapor, they did not fall through and plummet to their deaths as Shanna hoped they might. Shanna lowered herself as before, holding tight to the rope the whole time. She held it especially tight when she very carefully probed the cloud's surface. Her foot touched something soft and yielding, like clay, but which solidified as she dabbed the toe of her boot further down. Even through the boot's thickness, it felt cold. She put her other foot down, still clinging to the rope. She did not fall through, so she finally let go.

Walking was done with caution. Each step was a slow, deliberate act, with a test performed to gauge the cloud's stability and to take measure of its ability to support each of their weights. Erlek was the first to gain enough confidence to first walk at a normal pace and then at a hurried one. He soon left the others behind. Shanna and Engus Rul took longer to convince, but after a dozen or so steps they grew satisfied enough that they didn't stop to test each footfall. Only the sitheri remained wholly unconvinced. The two of them remained stationary, lifting one foot and putting it down, and then repeating the exercise with the other foot. They were left behind to overcome their fears on their own.

The cloud's surface spread out before them like a field of newly fallen snow broken only by the towering pillars and marble white statues of Valacia. Shanna watched as Erlek, who raced ahead of them now, stepped past the first of the columns to enter the palace. Once he had, his pace slowed, but not enough to allow him time to admire the statuary or the great pillars. The man had no interest in either.

Shanna noticed that Engus Rul's gaze never stopped probing for danger. She wondered at what warnings Erlek may have given the dwarf, if any. Shanna tried to maintain her own vigilance, but her sense of wonder gained the upper hand and she found herself drawing ahead of the more cautious dwarf. She circled one of the great pillars, counting out the number of Engus Ruls it might take to fully wrap its thickness. She made it to five when she reached out a hand to touch a stem of ivy carved into the pillar's surface. Leaning back at the waist, she let her gaze follow the strand as best she could as it wrapped around and around until finally it ended somewhere at the pillar's top. The others were like that, too, carved with ivy or vines. Some even bore marble fruit. Shanna wondered if the Empyreans meant the pillars as substitutes for trees, for she felt as if she walked amidst a forest or, more likely, a grove, for the columns were arranged with such perfect symmetry she'd no doubt she walked amongst something artificial. Still, there was beauty never seen before in the artistry and arrangement. The forest was populated, too, with the most amazing creatures. Shanna readily recognized the more common animals: a pack of wolves, a solitary fox, a pair of badgers, and a family of bears, all standing frozen but so lifelike Shanna hesitated to approach at first. It was their eyes—stark and so blank—that finally convinced her of their lifelessness. Carved of white marble like the pillars, their bodies were as white as their eyes, though teeth and claws appeared so real Shanna withdrew a hand that had been ready to touch the largest bear she'd ever seen. She turned her attention to the other statues, the ones she most certainly did not recognize. Wonder mixed with fright as she looked on a great monster with a hundred eyes, another with eight limbs and three tongues, and yet another with wings covered in scales whose form reared back, ready to strike. Shanna gave them a wide berth, hurrying past them to statues more inviting. These were of men, or so Shanna thought at first, for as she drew nearer she saw they weren't men at all. They were man-like, but their faces were too long and stern, bare chests too sculpted, and, crowning the list of differences, feathered wings that sprouted from their backs. She wanted to ask if these were the Empyreans or just some demigods they had once worshiped, but Erlek had gone so far ahead she didn't see him at all now. Fearful of becoming lost amidst the forest of pillars, she was relieved when she spotted Engus Rul. She moved to join him and, together, they found Erlek. The sitheri still trailed behind, but they were not so distant now.

Erlek ignored the two of them. Similar to when they'd first set down on Cauldron Mountain, when he'd set off with no regard for any of the others, Erlek now performed an inspection of the space between a specific group of pillars before moving on to a different area. He eyed one particular pillar, glancing down the lines of its peers one way and then the other. A moment of that and he was on to the next. Shanna and Engus Rul watched in silence as the man continued to establish his bearings. Finally, he stopped, but it was only to say, "This way." Then he was on the move again, leading them ever deeper into the aerial palace. He followed a specific line at first, but after he'd stopped to perform another inspection, he set off in an entirely different direction. After a repeat of this ritual several more times, Shanna lost all sense of direction or hope of ever finding her way out without the savant's guidance.

Finally, Erlek stopped. He did not look about this time. "The Element is here."

Shanna, Engus Rul, and even the sitheri, who'd caught up now, looked all around. They saw nothing but pillars lined up as far as the eye could see and more of the statues—a winged serpent in flight, another of a great cat-man prowling, and others—but that was all. There was no sign of the Element of Air.

Erlek turned to face Shanna. "Bring forth the Elements of Earth and Fire and come closer."

Shanna took the Element of Fire out of its protective box. The flame of it sprang to her hand with little prompting. The fingers of her other hand closed around the Element of Earth. With both held before her, she approached the savant. Erlek stepped away, giving her room for whatever came next.

"Now, stand ready. All of you! The moment we have the Element of Air, the curse—the guardian—of Valacia will be on us. I do not know what form it may take, but be prepared." Erlek looked to Shanna. "Concentrate on the Elements. Just as Earth guided you to Fire, let them both now reveal Air to you. They remember the purpose for which they were created and long to complete their long journey. Only let them know their wait is nearly over, that Air is near and that soon they shall be one. Now, invoke their power."

Unlike before, Erlek did not provoke her. He simply hovered in the background, waiting expectantly. He knew something was different about her, just as she did. She felt no great mastery over either of the Elements. But holding them in her hands, feeling their presence swelling into her, it was all easier. As the Elements came to life, power suffused her. There was a moment of panic, for she'd never felt such energy before. But it caused her no harm. Unbidden, the two Elements called out to the third.

Shanna saw the Element of Air then, right before her, so close she could reach out and touch it. The Element was air itself, immaterial and indefinable, yet it was there, a swirling mass like a vortex. She felt only the slightest disturbance from its presence. Shanna wanted to raise a hand to touch its edge, but both her hands already held something. The matter was decided for her when the Element of Air, with no prompting, moved to touch her. Only it didn't stop there. Shanna squeezed her eyes shut as, with a brief flurry, the Element encompassed her. But the flurry only lasted a moment, then a relative calm settled around her. Shanna opened her eyes to find herself surrounded by a swirling vortex. It lifted her hair about her mask, ruffled her jacket, and blew across the bit of skin still exposed, but caused her no harm. In her hand, the flame of the Element of Fire flickered. She looked at the others, seeing them as if they existed in a world apart from her own. Engus Rul was shouting something indeterminable. The dwarf had his hammer held ready, but not the axe Soljilnor. The sitheri were crouching, the tips of their spears leveled. None of the three looked at Shanna. Neither did Erlek, who stood still and quiet and unperturbed by the commotion, as if simply waiting for something. Shanna was just beginning to wonder what when she saw it. It was small in the distance. But only for the span of two heartbeats, for then it came for them. Not slowly, but in a flash of movement. One moment it was a speck amidst the distant columns and statues. The next, it stood—or rather hovered—before them.

'It' was ethereal, like the Element of Air, but tall and thick like the great Empyrean pillars and rimmed with a gray column of smoke that shifted, churned, and seethed up and down the full length of the thing.

Engus Rul and the sitheri moved back. Shanna wanted to do the same, but the Element of Air kept her fixed in place. Only Erlek actually moved closer. The man was weaponless, feeble before Valacia's guardian. Yet he stepped forward as if he'd gone mad or—realization struck Shanna—as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

Erlek raised his arms before the swirling pillar. "We know our trespassing offends those who once dwelt here! We have not come to disrupt anything of theirs! What we have come for does not belong here!"

The pillar of smoke emitted a wail and closed on Erlek.

"No! Wait!" Erlek stood taller, shouting at the top of his lungs to keep from being drowned out by the whirl and wail of the pillar.

Cocooned in the vortex of the Element of Air, Shanna barely heard him.

"We know there is a price and we shall pay it!"

The pillar kept coming.

Erlek stumbled, falling to his knees. With one last great effort, he flourished a hand in the direction of Engus Rul and said, "Behold! We bring you Soljilnor!"

The pillar stopped.

Half-immersed in the mist of the cloud, Erlek went on. "Soljilnor! The Flaming Cutter! Axe of Firl, son of Jelheim! It is yours! Also, take—"

"What treachery is this?" Engus Rul's voice thundered almost as loudly as the pillar's cry. "You cannot offer what is not yours, bloodsucker!"

"Also," Erlek said, his voice a scream, "take him!" The savant pointed a single finger at the dwarf. "Let the axe satisfy your masters' need for trade! Let its wielder satiate your need for blood!"

So many things happened so quickly in the next few moments Shanna wasn't sure which of them happened first. Engus Rul snarled as he raised his hammer at Erlek. But the pillar, already on the move toward the dwarf, demanded his full attention, and so any harm he meant the savant went unfulfilled. The sitheri, who had drawn near Engus to better take advantage of the law of numbers, leaped away the moment full comprehension of Erlek's words sank in. Engus Rul stood alone before the approach of the gray, churning pillar.

Alone but for Shanna who had no intention of letting her only ally die while she stood by and did nothing. The hand that guided the Element of Fire reached out toward the pillar, causing the flicker of flame to burst into an inferno that jetted out from her hand. It made it no further than the swirling vortex as the flames were swept up into the currents of the Element of Air. Shanna focused her effort, but still the Element of Fire failed to penetrate that ethereal barrier. "Stop!" she shouted into the flaming vortex. "Obey me!" But she had never truly learned to control any of the Elements, least of all this new one, and so her command went unheeded. "Stop!" She stepped forward, to see if the whirlwind moved with her. It did not. "Stop!" she said again, desperation in her voice. Then it no longer mattered.

The churning pillar scattered the mist of the cloud as it advanced on the dwarf. Engus Rul did not wait for Valacia's guardian to take him, leaping at it with only his hammer for still he refused to wield the flaming axe wrapped and slung over one shoulder. Gray, smoking tendrils whipped out from the column and spun with the motion of the thing's body. Longer and longer, the tentacles reached for Engus Rul. The dwarven lord ducked beneath one as it whipped around, then he swung his hammer at the next. The hammer punched through, scattering smoke and the arm's connection to the body. The severed portion dissipated until nothing remained of it. But, like a hydra, the damaged tendril reformed, billowing out until whole once more. It lunged, latching onto the haft of Engus Rul's hammer and yanking it from his grasp. Engus Rul refused to submit, striking at the smoking column with fists and kicks that did less damage than his hammer. Then one tentacle grasped his outstretched arm. Another spun around and latched onto a leg. In that moment, Engus Rul, realizing he had no other choice, reached over one shoulder and took hold of Soljilnor. It seemed a touch and a purpose was all it took, for the instant the weapon was grasped firmly before him it became suffused with flame. Wrappings were consumed and so too was the dwarf's hand. The price of wielding the Flaming Cutter. Engus Rul's howl of pain was cut off as the tentacles grasping arm and leg lifted him from his feet and spun him around again and again with the pillar's motion. With each revolution, the tentacles receded further into the pillar. Engus Rul's attempt to use Soljilnor was without effect as centrifugal force nearly tore the axe from his grip, giving him no chance to use the weapon. The dwarf bellowed. Shanna thought it a curse directed at Erlek. Then the pillar of smoke drank him in and Engus Rul and Soljilnor were no more. The guardian of Valacia, given its due, swirled away, back to whence it came. In moments, it was gone, with only a swirling of cloudy mist to mark its passing.

Shanna screamed in frustration. Though the Element of Air absorbed her outburst, this time it reacted, slowing and diminishing until the air was still, calm, and silent. Shanna felt the Element hovering around her, but it no longer impeded her. Shanna turned on Erlek.

The sitheri must have seen the murder in her eyes, for they leaped between her and their patron with spears leveled. Behind them, Erlek shouted something—something about not harming his Tool. Erlek's utterance infuriated Shanna all the more as her mind latched onto the Element of Air. This time, her fury bent it to her will. It obeyed. Violent currents of air assaulted the sitheri, hurling them far enough away they were no longer an obstacle. Then, with flame, earth, and air, Shanna prepared to end Erlek's life.

"Kill me and you'll never find the last Element!" Erlek screamed into the wind.

"I don't care!"

Fire sprang to life all around her, surrounding her in a sheath of twisting flame and death.

Shanna's approach was matched step-for-step as Erlek backed away from her.

"Why did you kill him? Why did you have to kill any of them? You didn't have to!"

"But I did! I did what had to be done! Look into your soul—look!—and tell me you think differently!"

Erlek's back came up against one of the Empyrean pillars. His eyes, darting back and forth, searched for some escape. The sitheri struggled to return to him, but their every step was hindered by gale force winds. Erlek pressed himself against the pillar, every bit of distance keeping him alive a little longer. "Kill me and you'll never know the Elements' true secret! You'll never find the last!"

"I don't care about the Element of Water!"

"No! Not water!" Tongues of flame just licked the sweat from Erlek's brow. "Not water!" He closed his eyes, the features of his face squashed in anticipation of the pain. His mouth never stopped moving. "Water is the fourth! But there is another! There is a fifth! The Fifth Element!"

Shanna stopped. "You're lying," she said. "There are only four Elements. Even I know that."

"No." The edges of the savant's jacket smoldered. The oculars of his mask twisted as the flames melted them. "There are five: Water, Earth, Fire, Air, and one more. It lies at a place called Crusus Kirth. Crusus Kirth, where once stood the place you knew as Norwynne Keep!"

The wind and flame assaulting Erlek diminished just enough for the man to exhale a full breath. His next words came out in a flood.

"It required awakening. In the days of old, places such as Crusus Kirth were tended by the druids. It is a Nexus—a place of power where brims the very power of Uhl. But such places require rejuvenation, sacrifices. Life to restore life. Don't you see? It was the only way. The blood of Norwynne's people returned life to Crusus Kirth. Awakened it! Now, it waits only for the return of the Four Elements, for it was there they were created long ago by the elementalists." Erlek paused to take breath. "I have a machine…"

The winds died further. The flame diminished to a flickering around Shanna's person.

"Yes?"

"Come with me to Crusus Kirth," Erlek said, his words running across dry and blistered lips. "Come with me and all will be explained."

Shanna let the Element of Fire dry the tears from her cheeks. This wasn't the end. The deaths of those who'd been taken prisoner and either slaughtered or used up would not go unanswered if she waited just a little longer to kill Erlek. She'd have her revenge. If she let Erlek live just a little longer, she'd have everything.

The winds evaporated. The flames disappeared.

"Take us there, then," she said.

Erlek bowed. His eyes, full of fear, anger, and something more sinister, never left Shanna's.

"Of course. But first, I have a rendezvous to make."

19. The Last Hunt

FLAMING DEBRIS FELL LIKE RAIN around Aaron, Ensel Rhe, and Serena while heat from the furnace that Wildemoore had become blasted their backsides. Aaron, who huddled on the ground with his arms over his head, dare not remain so a moment longer, for in that microcosm of a moment right before Ansanom's manor had exploded, he'd seen the houndmaster coming for them.

Coming for him.

Still coming, Aaron saw as he raised his head to see that the blast had done nothing to slow the houndmaster's advance.

Aaron pushed himself away from the others, who were unmoving, and tried to rise. But quivering legs would not support him, and his whole body shook as echoes of the explosion coursed through him so that he had to crawl on hands and knees. There was nowhere to go. Ahead, tongues of flame from Wildemoore's burning wreckage licked the sky. Behind, twin embers from beneath that terrible horned helm burned into him. Aaron need not turn to see those eyes, for he felt them, singeing his skin, burning him, causing him pain. So much pain he almost found himself unable to do anything but writhe upon the ground. He managed to roll to his back though, just in time to see the demon with his butcher's blade standing over him. Ember eyes flared, and Aaron, unable to stand the pain any longer, cried out.

Pain.

He realized he’d not truly experienced it until now. Pain wasn't a simple cut or bruise. It wasn't the name-calling he'd endured, or the bullying, or even the isolation of not fitting in. Real pain was watching someone you loved slip away without being able to stop it from happening. Real pain was seeing your home laid waste, witnessing the deaths of so many, then being chased across Uhl for reasons that made no sense. Real pain was betrayal. Aaron had endured all of it. He had survived, but only because of others. Now, those others were gone or debilitated. There was nothing separating him from what came next. Nothing except for the charm given to him by the witch, Ursool.

Aaron's hand went to the tooth that still hung about his neck. By reflex, his hand shot away, for it was the source of his sudden pain. A shocked instant passed before he grabbed hold of it again. This time he ignored the sensation stabbing into him. He saw right away it was stained with blood. His blood, from the wound on his hand that still oozed. He'd touched the tooth down in the laboratory once he'd been freed and again as they'd run up the stairs to escape before the extraction engine exploded. But though the houndmaster had stood nearly this close to him before, the tooth had previously remained inert. The difference now was Aaron's blood coating the smooth, enameled surface and mixed with the dark stain that had already been there since he'd received the charm from Ursool. The witch had called the tooth a middling charm. Though Aaron had puzzled over the distinction before, only now did he grasp its full meaning. Blood was the activating agent and the tooth was a middling—a connecting medium—between two entities. Those two entities were Aaron and Krosus. But the connection had not been completed between them. Not yet.

Realization alone would not sway Krosus's sword and so his blade fell. Aaron scrambled away, just avoiding it. As the houndmaster readied his weapon for another attack, Aaron jumped into a crouch, then leaped at him. Holding the tooth like a knife, he slashed Krosus's unprotected thigh even as he squirmed between the demon's legs. Aaron kept moving, putting some distance between them before he finally stood. As he turned, he held the tooth up, elated and dismayed at the same time to see the demon's blood mixed with his own. Krosus's crimson eyes flared. The sword drew back and the hounds, who thus far had been content to let their master complete their task, grew unsettled. They were behind Aaron, cutting off escape. It didn't matter. Aaron wasn't running anymore. He held the tooth before him as if it were a knife and waited for whatever came next.

What came next was nothing. Krosus and his hounds stopped.

Aaron let out a slow breath, wondering if any sudden movement of his might undo what he had just done. He took another breath, realizing for the first time how thunderous his heart beat in his chest. Though several of the dogs pawed at the ground and whined with steaming breaths, there was no untoward movement from either them or their master.

"Put your sword away," Aaron said, testing the effect of the Joining.

Aaron saw the defiance. Though the tooth put the two of them on common ground, there remained a battle between them. Physicality had been removed. Witchcraft ruled now, as did the mind. Krosus resisted the command, but in this, a battle of sheer will, Aaron was the stronger. Krosus had no choice but to yield. He sheathed his sword. The dogs, with heads bowed and tails tucked, moved to stand in a crowd behind Krosus. Illuminated by the fires that still consumed Wildemoore, they waited.

Ensel Rhe and Serena had risen. They kept their distance from the pack as they approached Aaron.

"What has happened?" Ensel Rhe asked. The eslar's khatesh was drawn, but the blade hung in a tired, weakened grasp.

"I've taken control of the dogs and their master."

Ensel Rhe's silence expressed his puzzlement. Then, with the pragmatism of a soldier, he accepted the explanation and said, "Tell them to go away then."

"Yes," Aaron said. He'd send them so far away they'd spend the remainder of their existence getting there. "That's a good—"

"Tsk, tsk. A shame to leave such a valuable item just lying about."

The words slithered in from the dark, silencing Aaron and drawing the attention of everyone present, including Krosus and his hounds.

A thin-framed man clad in earthen robes appeared from beyond the halo of fire consuming Wildemoore. Erlek Abn Nee stepped down from a small flying contraption to set foot upon the scorched earth. He stood unmoving for a moment, arms held at his sides. Then the blaze engulfing Wildemoore flared, its light shining across the distance to illuminate the top of the man's balding head. His full attention was on something at his feet. Something which he stooped to pick up before he straightened and stepped forward into the light.

"Do you ever wonder why sorcerers choose such remote locales in which to build their homes?" he asked, gesturing with his free hand at the dark wilderness around them. His other remained at his side, cradling the urn that held the Element of Water. "Because there are places on Uhl imbued with a special connection to the forces beneath, above, and all around us. Nexuses, they are termed. Potent repositories of the energies which govern our world." Steel gray eyes studied what remained of Wildemoore Manor. "Ansanom built his home—which appears to have come to an untimely end—upon one such locale. He thought it might provide the spark his research needed. Perhaps it would have. But that matters little now.

"We met a handful of years ago, when Ansanom wooed me to his home with promises of knowledge. Useless knowledge, I might add, but he never knew that. Ultimately, when our business was concluded, I meant to kill him." He smiled, light from the burning fires reflecting from his fake teeth. "While I see you have taken care of that task for me, it falls to me to deal with the rest of you." Erlek's free hand, already slipped into his robe whilst he spoke, emerged holding a small vial. A flick of his thumb sent the vial's stopper spinning end over end to the ground. Then, without warning, he threw his head back and downed its full contents. When he was finished, he tossed the empty vessel aside. "Its effects are not long lasting," he said as a wave rumbled through the ground deep beneath their feet, "but here, at the Nexus of Simion"—Erlek's free arm extended from his side to lift to the sky—"with five hundred years of knowledge at my command"—winds came to life, swirling around him, lifting him—"the power of the druids is mine!"

Ensel Rhe was moving before Erlek's feet had left the ground, but it was too late. He made it three steps, then, as if leaden weights had been attached to his legs, he ground to a halt. In moments, it was all he could do to remain standing.

"'Tis a little known fact," Erlek said, "that the flesh contains an abundance of water. Made more dense, one might find themselves in a predicament similar to your own." Erlek laughed. In response, the clouded sky cracked with thunder and split with lightning. His gaze passed over Aaron as if he weren't there, moving instead to fix on Serena. "Shall you try your sorcery against me, girl? Eh?"

Serena's stance was neither one of challenge nor defiance. The girl was frozen with fear.

"I thought not," Erlek said, his gaze darting to Krosus and his pack. Lightning flashed across the sky as he spoke to them. "Finish your task and begone. Already, I tire of your slavering jowls."

As one, the pack's attention settled on Aaron. But neither Krosus nor the hounds made a move toward their prey. Aaron watched them with uncertainty, his breath catching in his throat as he wondered what they might do. When they did nothing, Aaron finally found his courage bolstered enough that he raised his voice to be heard over the rising howl of the wind. "They won't listen to you!"

"Eh? What's this?" Erlek's gray eyes settled on Aaron. "What's that you say, boy?"

Aaron almost blanched under that gaze as a splash of cold fear took hold at the base of his spine. The old Aaron would have succumbed to it. This Aaron clenched his fists and the mounting dread vanished as if smacked with a hammer. "They listen to me now."

"Really?" He wondered at that for a moment, but did not contest the claim. He shrugged. "I suppose it matters little. Once, it was you I thought important. The fact of the matter is that you are really not that important at all."

"Not that important? You summoned the dogs to hunt us down." Aaron remained unaware that it hadn’t been Erlek at all who’d summoned the hounds. "You destroyed my home! You—You killed my friend!" Aaron clenched his fists tighter despite the pain the wounds there caused him. He wanted to leap up, drag the man back down to earth, and pummel him over and over until he admitted that he, Aaron, was the most important person on the face of Uhl. Aaron had no such notion of self-importance, but why else would the savant have done all of those things to him? Even now, Aaron didn't want to admit he had known the answer to that question for some time. That it had all been a case of mistaken identity was too easy, too heartbreaking. But there it was. Erlek had done all he'd done because he thought Aaron was someone he was not. There probably hadn't been anyone even distantly related to Tarn Galangaul residing at Norwynne. How could Erlek, who'd spent five hundred years hunting down and finding treasures lost to the world, have been so wrong?

There wasn't any more time for conjecture on the matter as Erlek's free hand came up. Aaron started to step away, but he remembered the hounds so close behind and stopped. The hounds, whining, growling, and snapping, returned the stare he threw over one shoulder. They no longer looked at him with hunger in their eyes. Now, they looked at him in anticipation. Winds swirled around him. He felt his body lifting, turning. With all his breath, Aaron shouted at the pack to attack.

Like catapults wound too tight and finally released, the hounds sprang forward, their long strides sending them past Aaron to close the distance between themselves and Erlek in less than a second. Though suspended in mid-air, Erlek was not so high that powerful and otherworldly canine muscles could not propel the hounds within reach of him. The first dog snapped at empty air. The second, into the meaty flesh of one leg. Erlek howled in pain. Fire culled from the burning embers of Wildemoore Manor lanced across the distance to strike the hounds. The force of the druidic attack scattered some, but not all. A second hound locked its teeth on Erlek's robe, then another bit down on the man's ankle. Erlek's mouth opened in a silent scream as the combined weight of the three hounds started pulling him down. The others were not content to wait for him to touch ground. A pair leaped at the savant, barreling into him so that both man and dogs fell into a pile upon the earth. One thin arm of Erlek's reached heavenward, then the sight was blotted from Aaron's vision by the remainder of the hounds piling on. They gnashed and tore, ignoring Erlek's screams and calls for mercy. Then, in response to a silent command, the dogs left off and withdrew. Krosus stepped past Aaron, his sword lifted. For one moment Aaron thought to stop him, then it was too late. Erlek's struggles ceased.

Aaron fell to his knees, retching. He coughed and choked, remaining on all fours until a moan, come from Erlek, sounded. Aaron lifted his head to see Krosus's sword raised, ready to deliver another killing blow. This time Aaron found his voice. "Stop!" He spit vomit from his mouth and tried to stand, managing to gain his knees only. "Stop! Leave him alone!"

Krosus's stare swiveled round to pierce Aaron's soul. Aaron could not stand such a look and he fell back, unable to speak. But the houndmaster obeyed, sheathing his sword as he withdrew.

Aaron stood on wobbly legs. Stumbling, he moved to stand over Erlek.

The man was a shamble of bloody, torn robes and mangled skin. Crimson ringed a mouth full of broken, false teeth, and his one, good eye stared out wildly. The other side of his face was a meaty smudge. A moan escaped from between swollen, torn lips. The sound rose, then fell, until it was not a moan at all, but a laugh bubbling forth.

"You've killed me, boy. Five hundred years could not stop me, but you… . You would have the Elements for yourself. I see it in your eyes."

"The Elements?" Aaron shook his head. "I don't want them. I never wanted them." Aaron looked for the Element of Water. It took a moment, but there it was: the urn was broken, shattered, the liquid inside emptied out onto the earth. Aaron told Erlek as much.

Erlek coughed out a splash of blood. "It is… returned to the earth then." The man's one eye closed. His breath, visible as small bubbles of blood, lessened. Aaron thought that, finally, he might die. But then his eyelid flashed open, revealing a steel gray spark. "I saw it in her eyes, too. From the moment… I first saw her. She will finish… what I have started." He swallowed. "When… not return, she will know… I am dead. Returned to… the earth. She will sense… . She will finish it…" Erlek smiled a wicked grin with the half of his mouth that still worked. "…for all of you."

Aaron narrowed his brow, but not at the threat in Erlek's words. He narrowed his brow in puzzlement. "Who is 'she'?" Ansanom had referred to Erlek's apprentice as 'Erlek's boy'. He'd said nothing about a girl.

"A waif, a hellion. A prisoner, until Fate showed her to me. She is… filled with darkness. Surrounded by it. From the hair on her head… to the depths of her soul. She will do no good."

"Who? What is her name?"

The light was dying in Erlek's one remaining eye. He said only, "Return… to your home. Perhaps you will recognize her. Return… to Norwynne." The last word faded to a whisper, then silence. He was gone.

Aaron turned away to find Ensel Rhe and Serena regarding him in silence. The dogs were quiet now, sitting on their haunches or lying down, waiting for whatever task Aaron set them on next. Except there were no more tasks. Aaron almost ordered them away as Ensel Rhe had suggested earlier. Words of Erlek's distracted him as he turned his look upon the burning house, as if the flames might give him answers. Return to Norwynne. She doesn't know what she is about to unleash. Aaron shook his head. Always more questions. Aaron doubted he'd ever find all the answers.

A hand on his shoulder caused him to turn and face Ensel Rhe and Serena. It was Serena who'd reached out to him.

"We have to go back to Norwynne," Aaron said. "Something bad is going to happen there."

"But Erlek is dead," Ensel Rhe said. Blood and bruises crisscrossed the eslar's face, his clothes were torn and dirty, and his sword, still unsheathed, was held in a grasp so loose it appeared it would slip from his hand at any moment.

Serena spoke before Aaron could answer. "It might not matter. Erlek had an apprentice. Another descendant of Tarn Galangaul. Norwynne, like this place, was built over a Nexus, though the one over your home is much more powerful. If Erlek was coming here for the Element of Water, then he already had the other three." Though she did not say it, she was with them now. There was nothing left for her here.

"The urn," Ensel Rhe said, gesturing at the broken crockery.

"Erlek said it had returned to the earth," Aaron said.

Serena shook her head. "I don't know what that means. But I do know that even with only three of the Elements, Erlek's apprentice might still try to carry out his plan."

"Which is?" Ensel Rhe asked.

"Mastery over the Elements."

"No," Aaron said. "I mean, yes, but Erlek has been after something more from the start. I think what he's been after all along is the Fifth Element."

No one contested it, for they all knew it was true, though not a one of them knew a thing about it.

"It's very possible Erlek's apprentice is already on his way to Norwynne," Ensel Rhe said. "He might even already be there. It took us many days to get here. It will take us many to return. There is the flying machine Erlek came in on, but it is only big enough for one." He shook his head. "I don't see how we are to do anything about this."

It was a dilemma, true. A problem with no easy answer. Aaron looked past the both of them, at the only structure of Wildemoore Manor still standing: the wagonhouse. Then he looked at the pack.

"I have an idea."

20. The Final Betrayal

THE WALK FROM VALACIA TO the Griffin sapped the anger from Shanna, leaving her tired—exhausted, really—and plagued by a numbness that nibbled away at her spirit. Her hands had started trembling halfway to the airship. Clenching them into fists halted such nonsense for a time, but only until the sensation spread to her arms. She clasped her arms across her chest, but such measures also proved temporary as she then had to fight to keep her entire body from trembling. Shanna wasn't sure how she made it up the rope and onto the airship's deck. She thought perhaps one of the crewmen—Tom perhaps—had helped her up the last bit. But, thinking back, her memory was spotted with so many holes the only thing she remembered clearly at all was what had happened in the ancient city of the Empyreans. Engus Rul was dead. While the dwarf had never truly been on her side, he'd also never really been against her. Of all the dwarves, he'd been the only one. That was why, as she gained her balance on the ever-shifting deck, she was not surprised at the reception waiting for her.

The remaining dwarves stood on deck with naked steel in their hands. Opposing them, and keeping them from grabbing Erlek outright, were the sitheri, their own weapons brandished. Around them all, standing at a safe distance, a handful of mates wearing high altitude gear fingered the hafts of pikes better suited to repelling boarders than quelling a riot. Still others kept hands close to clubs and knives. A riot was just what Shanna expected to break out at any moment when, instead, one of the dwarves stepped forward to ask what had become of Engus Rul. Erlek opened his mouth to respond, but a quick outburst from the dwarf silenced him.

"Shut yer mouth, bloodsucker!" the dwarf said. "I'll hear it from the girl."

As all eyes turned to her, it was not the sudden attention which kept Shanna's voice quiet but a sudden rash of shame at her inability to keep Engus Rul alive. She'd been handed more than one opportunity to end Erlek's life, yet she'd not taken advantage of a single one of them. She could have prevented Engus Rul's death. Instead, she'd contributed to it. In the end, her prolonged silence was answer enough for the dwarves.

Chaos ensued as dwarf traded blows with sitheri. Only interference from the pike-wielding airmen kept the scuffle from breaking out into a full-scale war as they leveled the hafts of their weapons between the conflicting parties. From there, the confrontation ended as quickly as it had begun, but only after bitter pledges of retribution from the lips of the dwarves. Their threats were not only for Erlek. Threatening glances were leveled at Shanna too. A wave or two of an axe was meant to signify her head coming off. Still, she longed to tell them that she, too, mourned Engus's passing, that he'd been a sort of friend, and that she'd tried to stop Erlek from killing him. She knew the futility of speaking such words though to ones who hated her as much as they hated Erlek, so she said nothing. It was all she could do to keep her trembling from showing, anyway.

Shanna left the dying commotion of the main deck behind, floating down into the comforting half-light of the Griffin's hull. With relief, she tore off her mask and heavy coat. Erlek trailed her all the way to her room. Sighing, Shanna turned to see what he wanted rather than lead him into the small confines beyond her door.

"I go to meet a powerful sorcerer to barter for the Element of Water," Erlek said.

"Barter like you did for the Element of Air?"

A smile just turned the edges of Erlek's lips. "You will remain behind. We cannot risk the Elements we already have falling into the hands of this man."

Shanna's hand went to the satchel still hanging from one shoulder where the three Elements were stowed. A spark of defiance still sheltered within, she half-hoped Erlek asked for her to surrender them so she could refuse him, but he did not. He intended to leave immediately, alone upon one of the gyros. He ordered her to stay in her room until his return.

"The crew and my sitheri will see to it that you are kept safe from the dwarves," Erlek said. "The captain of the Griffin owes me much more than they ever will. Perhaps it is best if Mirna alone is allowed access."

Shanna, who was of a mind to agree after their reception, offered no resistance.

She stayed in her room the remainder of that day and most of the next. The Griffin descended to a more hospitable elevation, but remained mostly stationary as they waited for Erlek's return. She spent most of her time lying in her cot, sleeping and too often dreaming of cloud cities and the pillars of swirling smoke that guarded them. Each time, she was awoken when the column gripped her in its smoky essence, twirling her around before sucking her into oblivion. The first time, she woke screaming, crying, and near convulsing until gentle, firm hands gripped hers, drew her near, and stayed with her until the episode had passed. Mirna came to her often, sometimes to bring food, sometimes just to talk. She mentioned Tom, telling Shanna the boy had asked after her more than once. Shanna would have liked to have talked to Tom, but not having the energy to receive him she let Mirna's comments about him go unanswered.

She left the Elements in their satchel, never once taking them out, though she kept them close. She had tried hanging them from a hook on the wall opposite to where she slept, but somehow they always ended up next to her. She fell asleep embracing the satchel. Never once did she feel any stirring from them. Before, her mere proximity had elicited a response, almost as if waves of interference passed between them. Now, there was none. They were in tune with one another, the Elements' energy rising and falling with each breath she took and every beat of her heart. Still, it created a sensation deep within her, a feeling that, finally, she belonged.

Toward the end of the next day, after Shanna had spent all of the afternoon alone, wrapped in her melancholy, Mirna came to her. Her soft knock was so familiar she hadn't even the need to ask who it was or look to see who came through the door unbidden. Mirna, who for all her quietness and subservience, had proven the most steady thing of all since this madness had begun. Mirna drifted to Shanna, who lay upon her cot. Gently, the woman brushed at Shanna's long, dark hair as she hummed a soft tune. The sound of it lulled Shanna into the beginnings of sleep. Only Mirna's voice, the words spoken softly, as if words in her melody, kept her from fading altogether.

"It is done now," Mirna said.

Shanna, whose mind was drifting amongst the clouds, almost did not register the words. "What is done?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

Mirna, still standing, leaned closer as she made to wrap an arm about Shanna's shoulders. The cot swayed from the motion. While the Elements were safe at Shanna's other side, the motion was enough to shift the satchel. Shanna half-turned, to settle the bag before it fell. By the time she saw the knife it was already buried to the hilt in her belly.

Her gut was filled with liquid fire. Shanna opened her mouth to give voice to the explosion of pain, but the only thing to pass across her lips was a silent scream that Mirna made certain stayed silent as the woman's hand closed over her mouth. A burning sensation hotter than the molten rivers of Cauldron Mountain lanced through every part of her, dulling her senses and immobilizing her so that even breathing took more effort than she was able. She swayed and fell to the floor. The jolt sent such a blast of pain exploding into her head that she almost blacked out. Then Mirna was there, running one hand across Shanna's forehead with the gentleness of a mother while her other grasped the hilt of the knife still jutting from Shanna's stomach. With a quick exertion, Mirna ripped the blade free. Shanna's breath left her and she did wail then, screaming, but so faintly no one heard. Mirna laid the bloodied knife across Shanna's throat, then she lowered herself bodily on top of her to whisper into her ear and to keep her from moving.

"This is how it must be, Shanna."

Shanna felt the sharp edge of the blade, made warm by her blood, press against her neck.

"The earth was never meant to be enslaved."

Shanna sensed more than felt the muscles in Mirna's arm tensing, ready to slice the blade across her naked throat.

Except it never did.

Shanna felt it now. Water, splashing to the ground leagues away, absorbed by Earth, and here in the room with her, the Element of Water. Rational thought, expunged when Mirna had rammed half a foot of steel into her, escaped her. Questions and the need for answers fell by the wayside. She felt it, Joined with the others at long last, as a sense of euphoria that burned through the pain and the betrayal and single overwhelming feeling that no one—no one!—remained with her. Mirna had been her last lifeline. Now, there was Earth, and Fire, and Air, and Water, joined as one again only because she existed. They were hers to control and command. Erlek's death flitted by as an afterthought, a fractional second of satisfaction. She'd held off killing him only because of the knowledge he possessed. Now, she realized he'd possessed nothing. She alone was the impetus that had drawn the Elements together. She alone willed them to life.

Life was what they were. She knew that now. Death, too, for those who wished her harm. Now, Shanna summoned them. Slumbering Earth, coruscating Fire, capricious Air, and now, Water, that Shanna knew longed for nothing more than release. Not to kill—the desire to visit death upon another was wholly Shanna's—but a longing to simply be. Shanna called to them, through the dizzying haze in her mind, through the blood and tears, and through the physical boundaries separating them. In that shattered moment, the Four Elements came to life.

The satchel containing the three burst apart. Joined by the fourth they became something else entirely. Raw energy engulfed the small room. Mirna screamed. The knife in the woman's hand disintegrated away to less than dust as she was hurled away from Shanna, who gained her knees and then, somehow, clutching her gut from the pain, stood. Mirna herself remained upright only because the power crackling all around Shanna reached out to hold the woman propped against the far wall. Mirna struggled, but there was no release. Blood pounding through her head, Shanna made ready to finish her. The Elements, joined into something that transcended their individual existences, came at the woman from every direction at once, permeating every bit of her physical being, every fiber of the soul energy which gave her life.

"I trusted you!" Shanna screamed.

Mirna's face contorted in surprise and horror and pain, then Shanna finished her. The energy of the Elements hurtled into Mirna like a wave, consuming her and the wall behind her. It did not stop there. The release blasted through the Griffin's inner hull, burning and disintegrating everything it touched until Shanna had a clear view of the night sky beyond.

Shanna heaved in breaths, letting the Elements separate into their constituent pieces. She was far from done. Her mind beckoned to Fire. There was a moment's hesitation, then the Element lanced into her, cauterizing the wound Mirna had caused. Already dizzy with pain, that last stroke almost sent her into oblivion. But if she stopped now, if she faltered for even a moment, it was over for her. The dwarves still wanted her dead. The crew of the Griffin no doubt as well, for what she'd just done, despite any promises they'd made to Erlek. The man was gone now, anyway. She was on her own.

Shanna saw faces, popping into view down the path of destruction she'd created. The screams and howls of those caught in the blast—those who hadn't been killed outright—followed. It was everything Shanna could do to remain upright. She pushed the faces and the wounded from her mind else they drag her down into a sea of regret.

"Tom!" a man Shanna didn't recognize shouted at her between sobs. The man's face was streaked with soot and blood. "You've killed Tom!"

The words penetrated Shanna's shield, slicing her through the heart and causing her to lurch backward. Only the wall there kept her from toppling. She closed her eyes, sealing away the tears and willing away the looks of anger and horror, the sounds of the dying and wounded, and, most of all, Tom, who probably never even knew what hit him. Shanna had purpose now. Nothing must stand in the way of that.

She placed the three Elements of Fire, Air, and Water into the bowl that was the Element of Earth. Then she climbed through the ship to reach the main deck. No one moved to stop her. They were either too busy seeing to wounded comrades or simply knew better. It was an easy decision to stumble to the gunwale, a more difficult task to clamber over it. Before she let herself fall, she reached out and melted the bars holding the prisoners. She'd done her part. She'd set them free. The rest was up to them. With the same tendril of thought, Shanna grasped hold of the machine Erlek had kept with them. She'd no idea the machine's purpose, but knew only that it was linked with the fate of the Five Elements. It was enough. In the moment that she let go her grasp on the Griffin, she also tightened it around the machine. It burst forth from the airship's hull and fell with her.

Behind her, she heard airmen—or perhaps it was the dwarves—shouting something, but it all disappeared in the next moment, replaced by the air rushing by. A moment's exhilaration subsided as the Element of Air took hold, leveling her and the machine off and then pushing the both of them forward. She rode the wind like a steed, letting the Elements guide her. They knew her intended destination and what she intended to do once there. Separate, the Four Elements were powerful. But, together they were the essence of everything. It was what Erlek had sought for generations. Now, it was the one thing that guaranteed Shanna would never have to clean slop in the kitchens again or sweat over a vat of boiling, scented oils destined for fine soaps she would never have the opportunity to use herself. Together, the Four Elements became the Fifth. The latter was hers by right and by destiny. She need only claim the one to fulfill the other.

21. The Fifth Element

THE FOLK OF NORWYNNE FLED from a land gone mad.

Leaving behind what possessions remained to them, they abandoned the remnants of hearths and homes to escape into the night with only the clothes on their backs and their children held or dragged behind. They ran screaming and crying and praying beneath a sky turned crimson with blood-red clouds that spewed liquid drops of fire. The earth cracked and convulsed, jarring some from their feet as streaks of lightning, a score at a time, turned night into day. Tornadoes swirling with flame touched down everywhere. One such destructive monster came too close to a fleeing group of men, women, and children, sucking them into the vortex, never to be seen again. Though the only shelter from such things lay behind them, no one went back. Too many had seen the girl there. Sickly pale, like one already dead, she'd flown in from the sky and landed at the city's center. Violent winds came with her and the earth trembled at her every footfall. The sorcerers' apprentices had tried to stop her, but it was as if they fought the elements themselves. Nothing could stand against such fury. Those who tried were tossed aside. This final display convinced those who hadn’t already fled that now was the time to leave.

No one spared time for a glance over a shoulder. No one stopped. Though they beat flaming rain from their persons at every step, no one dared hesitate at all until they saw the wagon. It came shooting over the rise ahead with maniacal speed. Quickly they realized this was no ordinary wagon, for it was drawn by the most unordinary of beasts. At its helm ran a dozen hounds, surely from Hell itself, for their bodies exuded fire, their panting, noxious clouds of gas, and the flaming beads of crimson that were their eyes glowed with an otherworldly light. The wagon bucked and shook at the treatment the hounds gave it, but it remained whole. Smoke billowed from the wheels at every turn, obscuring the monster that drove this Wagon of Hell. Most folk scattered at its approach, running into the dark. Others shrank to the ground, burying children beneath them for protection. Still others, few in number but armed with spear, sword, or knife, stilled shaking knees and readied themselves to fight. But the flaming hounds and the wagon they pulled never stopped, nor slowed, nor altered course. It shot into their midst, rumbling past and then leaving them behind as it disappeared into the storm's pandemonium. Only those who'd stood their ground had seen the boy holding the dogs' reins. A demon, some thought or said out loud with trembling voices. He looked the part, with wild hair, torn clothing, and dried blood streaking arms and legs. But some had seen past the wear. Some had recognized him. Word spread, from one person to the next, until the people of Norwynne no longer ran. They still did not return to the city, but sought protection in the outlying hills where they waited, for Elsanar's prodigy, the boy apprentice, who'd harnessed the very Hounds of Hell to do his bidding, had returned to set things right.

Aaron had no idea his coming had elicited anything but fear, for it was the only thing he saw in peoples' faces before the wagon thundered past one group after another. Over and over, the scene of folk fleeing, hiding, or raising weapons was repeated. No one truly attempted to stop them, though. He was at least glad of that, for though he held the reins, controlling the hounds had become increasingly difficult. Initially, though they'd liked their situation not at all, Ursool's charm and Aaron's link to it kept them in check. Still, they lamented their situation with snapping jaws and incessant growls. Even more so once they'd come into view of the fiery maelstrom brewing over Norwynne, for as their pace had quickened, Aaron's control over them had lessened. They pushed the boundaries of the magic, Aaron knew, causing it to diminish its hold on them though they remained incapable of breaking free from it entirely. The chaotic storm fired something in them, lending them strength. Perhaps because it reminded them of their own hellish home, Aaron thought. Instead of fighting the hounds' newfound sense of exuberance, Aaron let them have their head. The world was coming to an end and he'd come to stop it. But, to do that, they had to reach the city first.

"Hold it steady!" Aaron shouted over the noise made by the wagon's violent undulations. Though every foot gained brought them closer to their objective, it also threatened to shake the wagon to pieces. The only thing keeping the disused contraption in one piece was Serena's magic.

The girl sat behind Aaron on the wagon's floor. Ensel Rhe was there, too. Neither of them moved. Serena had her eyes closed. One of her hands was on the wagon's floor, palm down with fingers spread. The other was on Ensel Rhe's wrist. Waves of energy, undetectable to any but the sorcerer's apprentice, flowed through every nail, bolt, spoke, and bit of wood, keeping the pieces tight and preventing the whole from falling apart. The magical energy flowed from Serena's own reserve, but also from Ensel Rhe's.

Aaron had not wanted to ask the sacrifice of either of them, but he'd had no other choice. Standing outside the burning wreck of Wildemoore, he'd seen the ruts leading to the manor's stables—it had been a separate structure, thankfully—and so he knew there was a wagon. His heart had sunk the moment he'd laid eyes on it, though, for it was in a sad state of disrepair. Still, giving up never crossed his mind. Instead, he looked for a solution.

Serena had been it. As Ansanom's apprentice, she'd witnessed the black art of extromancy, the discipline of stealing soul energy from another. When pressed, she told them she'd done more than just witness it, though her tutelage had been rudimentary and only then at Ansanom's insistence. It was enough that Aaron thought his plan just might work. He'd explained it to both of them in a matter-of-fact tone. Though what he proposed repulsed even him, it was the only way. Serena and Ensel Rhe had protested. Aaron let them have their say. Then he asked if either of them had a better idea. Neither did. Ensel Rhe committed himself immediately. It took Serena considerably more time to agree. Aaron, all too cognizant of the line he was asking her to cross, had let her decide for herself. In the end, she had acquiesced.

Her own energy and the energy she drew from Ensel Rhe had been enough to get them this far. Now, every bump, every rock, every piece of deadwood they clambered over sent a shudder of violence through the wagon that threatened to finally shake it to pieces. Even bolstered by magic, Aaron knew the wagon would only hold together a little while longer. Also, he knew they were fast approaching the limit of Serena's strength. Ensel Rhe's, too, for though his participation remained passive, his ordeal in Wildemoore had taken its toll. The eslar had spent the journey close to Serena so she could draw from him as necessary. His endurance was a testament to his determination. Not for the first time, Aaron wondered what fueled such inner strength. His eyes never closed. Not that Aaron saw, anyway.

The more they neared the storm's center, the worse the chaos grew. Rain thundered down on them now, an impossible mixture of fire and water droplets, much of which collided together in mid-air to form a steamy layer above their heads. Still, some of the fire droplets touched earth where they ignited ever growing blazes across the landscape. Neither the wagon nor their persons was spared the rain's fiery touch. Ensel Rhe patted down fires within reach, but had no choice but to let those beyond an arm's length burn. The floodwaters were gone, either drained into the ocean or swept away by the madness of the storm. Still, the smell of brine and rotting seaweed hovered thick around them. Once they'd passed through the initial mass of folk, they saw no one else. They heard nothing but the sound of thunder shaking the sky.

Neither Aaron, focused only on the path ahead, nor Serena, whose eyes remained closed, saw the approaching sitheri. Only Ensel Rhe noticed the shadow running alongside, matching their progress. Only he saw it veer close, then leap for the wagon. Reacting by instinct alone, he shook off Serena's grasp as he rose to face this new threat. He thought the shadow meant to land square in the wagon, but its momentum was too great and it sailed up and over instead, clearing the wagon by a great margin. But as it did a clawed hand caught at Ensel Rhe's coat, pulling him along. Both went over the side and vanished into the fiery steam.

"We have to stop!" Serena said, eyes open the moment Ensel Rhe had broken contact with her.

Aaron, looking back but not knowing what had happened, shook his head. "No! We have to keep going!"

"But your friend!"

Aaron heard the words, but he did not answer. He returned his gaze to the storm's center, where a great incandescence was coming into view. They had to press on.

But the wagon had had enough. Momentarily bereft of Serena's stabilizing magic, it shook and shuddered. Serena reapplied herself to the task, but without Ensel Rhe's supporting energy, she had little to supplement her own failing strength. She held the wagon together for ten minutes, then fifteen, focusing on only those most crucial pieces: the wheels, axle, and harness. Then, it was too much, and the wagon gave way.

The seat collapsed first, hurling Aaron back so that he and Serena grasped one another at the wagon's floorboards. Beneath them, they felt one of the rear wheels shatter. The wagon’s aft sagged, then the spokes of the other rear wheel came loose, causing the wagon's backend to slam to the ground. The dogs reveled in the pandemonium, running all the faster before the shock undid the harness securing half of them. The harness had been a hodgepodge of leather and rope from the start, held together only by Serena's magic. When it gave way it fell apart all at once. The lead pair of hounds bounded free. The others followed. The wagon's forward momentum did not last long. The rough terrain, muddy in many places, turned the wagon one way and then another, until one wheel caught against a protruding rock. The wagon turned sideways and began to flip. It hung precariously, but finally settled on its side. Aaron and Serena, still clinging to one another, slid down onto the sodden ground.

"Are you alright?" Aaron asked. Serena did not reply right away, though Aaron knew she was conscious by the way she held onto him. It took some reassuring before she would release her grip. Finally, she did.

"We have to keep moving."

Aaron picked the both of them up before looking in the direction of the city to gauge their distance. They were close. He said as much to Serena, who managed only a sigh. Then they advanced deeper into the maelstrom.

* * *

Eslar and sitheri hit the ground, tumbling one over the other until up and down blurred and the world became fleeting glimpses of a sky on fire and a blinding spatter of rainwater, mud, and ash. Ensel Rhe heaved with both arms, trying to dislodge himself from the thing holding him, but its claws, curved and wicked, refused to give. Serrated teeth snapped inches from his face, swampy breath blew into his face, and the claws tangled in his coat squeezed down until they pierced flesh. Ensel Rhe managed to bring his knee up between them, then he kicked out. His coat tore and then they were separated, spinning off in different directions. Though Ensel Rhe struggled to regain his bearings, he never stopped moving.

The tip end of a spear plunged for his face, but he jerked his head to one side just before the weapon's point sank into the sodden ground. Water and mud blinded him as he set himself spinning away. A hiss behind foretold of the spear tip again coming for him. Ensel Rhe dove forward, forcing himself into a somersault despite the pain setting his injuries on fire. His momentum carried him to his feet. Dizzy and weak, instinct took over as he drew his khatesh in a flash and spun around just in time as the sitheri jabbed at him again.

Ensel Rhe let the spearhead slide past him as he took one step forward and, raising his sword above his head, brought the blade down on the shaft of the sitheri's weapon. The sword sliced the spearhead from the haft, reducing the weapon to something akin to a long, bludgeoning staff. The sitheri wasted no time using it as such. Ensel Rhe ducked beneath the first swing, then countered those that followed, backing away while he struggled to clear his head and regain his center.

He’d barely done so when a flying machine much like the one Erlek had flown in on screamed into view. Riding it was a second sitheri. This one aimed the gyro at Ensel Rhe right before it leaped from the machine with scimitar held high. The gyro, unmanned, went astray, which left only the sitheri with descending scimitar to concern Ensel Rhe, who ducked beneath an attack from the other’s blunted spear right before lunging and rolling beneath the assault of the sword. When he came up, he was clear of both of them. Ensel Rhe had time only to turn and draw his small sword from the arsenal at his belt before the sitheri were on him again. The one tossed aside its headless spear in favor of its own scimitar. When they were positioned to either side of their prey, just out of reach of Ensel Rhe's khatesh, they stopped.

The one who'd dragged him from the wagon let the point of its sword drop almost to the ground. With its free hand, it broke something off from the band it kept looped over one shoulder. Ensel Rhe knew it for what it was—a scalp. But not just any scalp. It was his son's.

The sitheri dangled it from one claw, letting the eslar take in its every aspect. There was no mistaking that it was Hannu's. The copper hair, lush and thick once, like his mother's, but now dried out and stringy. The skin visible beneath was blackened and wrinkled, its blue-black, distinctly eslar sheen long faded from some four years' time hanging on a sitheri scalp band. The sitheri who held the scalp—who'd worn it across his scaled chest—did so because it was the one who'd murdered Hannu. This sitheri standing before him had murdered his son.

Rage seized Ensel Rhe. With no regard for the other, he launched himself at the snake-warrior. The sitheri dropped the scalp and met his charge. If the odds had been even, Ensel Rhe might have slain his foe right there, for his swords wove a tapestry of steel the sitheri's single scimitar could not match. But the moment Ensel Rhe had thrown himself at the one, the other closed. A slash was only narrowly avoided as the eslar, consumed but not suicidal, dove away. Turning about, Ensel Rhe found himself once more confronted by both snakemen. This time, their attack was unrelenting. They came at him hard, forcing him to take a defensive tact lest he find himself suddenly relieved of an extremity or cut in half. He was forced back, through the mud and beneath a sky whose crimson clouds wept fire. Ensel Rhe used his anger, letting it fuel muscles long past their endurance level. Still, what remained faded fast. The sitheri were quick and strong, where Ensel Rhe's movements slowed with each passing moment. Not even his rage was enough as his body, deprived of sleep for so long, battered and bruised by one foe after another, and drained directly so that Aaron's plan might reach fruition, betrayed him. The sitheri sensed, if not outright saw, the change. Much to Ensel Rhe's surprise, they did not press the advantage and kill him right away. Instead, when his ripostes came so slow they could have easily ended him, they hit his weapons hard enough to knock them from his hands. One of the snakemen—Ensel Rhe wasn't sure which one—backhanded him across the face. The blow knocked him from his feet. Water splashed all around him. Rain pounded into his face, blinding him. He felt a clawed hand at his shirt and another at his scalp. He imagined the blade hovering there, ready to slice into him. Instead, he was lifted up and held from behind. He blinked his eyes, clearing his vision just in time to see the sitheri's clawed fist launch at his torso like a battering ram. Pure agony gripped him as the blow landed very near his badly bruised ribs. He thought he heard the crack of one or more of them, but his hearing was reduced to the dull pounding of his heart and nothing else. The blows continued, most to his gut, until he was finally released. He slid to the ground, conscious, but in agony and unable to move. Then he felt a clawed hand grab hold of his hair, half-lifting his head from the mud. This time he knew the scalping knife was there, and, just beyond it, unblinking serpentine eyes that held no mercy.

But in the next moment, the knife was withdrawn and the grip on him released. Ensel Rhe's head slumped into the mud. It did not stay there. Forcing his eyes to focus, he craned his neck to peer through the rain and the dark as the sitheri took cautious steps away from him. Struggling to see through the gloom, he saw nothing at first. Then he saw the eyes, burning like hell coals, and the butcher's blade. Next, he saw the houndmaster himself step out from the blazing mist.

Houndmaster no longer, the Lord of Vengeance had come.

* * *

As Aaron and Serena entered the outermost area of Norwynne's ruins, the wind and rain lessened, then faded altogether. They stumbled through a field of cut, rectangular stones, some broken into pieces, others whole, and all having come from Regrok's leveling. Once, the wall had encircled the entire keep. No longer. In some places it still reached to its full height, though more often than not it was marked by breaches where only the foundation stones remained. Aaron had not fully witnessed the extent of the keep's destruction until now. As they climbed over and through an opening in the once proud wall, he looked on what remained of his home. His breath caught in his chest. No structure remained undisturbed. Nothing remained whole. Standing atop a pile of Regrok's rubble, Aaron tried to form a picture in his mind of what it had once looked like, but the destruction laid out before him was so complete it overwhelmed his senses, rendering such imaginings impossible to conjure. Still, once he had established his bearings, bits and pieces came back to him. He remembered apartments where folk had lived. The great arches marking entryway into the Underkeep. The merchant's bazaar with its magnificent, gaily-colored tents. The main street lined with the best shops in Norwynne. It was all gone now. Caved-in, smashed, or toppled. Though most of the floodwaters had receded or at least drained away into the Underkeep, puddles as deep as their knees were scattered at irregular intervals and the bare earth, where exposed, was soft. Even the cobbled avenues, whose care Norwynne's street wardens had always taken great pride in, were marked by ruts, cracks, and, in some places, great gaping holes. Such obstacles, many of which remained unseen despite the crimson luminosity bathing the city, made the going slow. It was with careful steps that they passed through the city and into the inner keep.

The place had changed. Broken rock, splintered roof timbers, and other debris littered the edges of its expanse. Pillars lining each side of the yard had been snapped like twigs, the arches they'd once supported crumbled into chunks of plaster, rock, and dust. The backdrop of the yard, the eastern wing of Lord Vuller's palace, with its high windows, wide balconies hanging over the square, and streaming draperies, was gone. Disparate clumps of rubble attested to its final fate. The centerpiece of this wasteland of destruction was something that had not been there a week ago and which had pushed the other wreckage aside: a great piling of dirt and rock and debris that rose into the sky like an earthen pyramid. At its top, Aaron knew he'd find Erlek's disciple.

Aaron exchanged glances with Serena before they started in. The soil they trod over was unsettled, as if a massive plow had been worked through it. They had to pick their way around or over great chunks of rock or smatterings of debris just to reach the edge of the great mountain. With no way of knowing if Erlek's apprentice had witnessed their approach, they began their ascent. Loose dirt and rocks threatened to send them sliding back down at every footfall. Working together, they fought for every step, crawling when necessary or setting feet and hauling the other up, only to have to switch places and repeat the exercise in order to continue ascending. At last, dripping with sweat and soiled with mud, they reached the top.

The first and only thing Aaron saw was Shanna.

It mattered not that she did not face them, for Aaron recognized instantly the curve of her figure, the slender shoulders, the darkness of her hair. An earthen brown robe that was soaked through clung to her body like a second skin and her hair, hanging wet and loose, caught the otherworldly sheen of the crimson sky as her head turned to stare over one shoulder. Her expression—narrowed brows, pursed lips, and a piercing stare that Aaron did not like at all—softened the moment she saw him. She whispered his name in disbelief. Turning around all the way, she asked, "What are you doing here?" The last word had barely escaped her lips when the softest whisper of rain began to fall.

Shanna stood higher than either Aaron or Serena, on a great slab of stone that was smooth at its top. Aaron could just see across its length. Something—a cupped depression—was at its center, just behind her. The depression had a golden glow emanating from it. Leaving Serena standing at the mountaintop's edge, Aaron scrambled onto the rock platform. Standing there, nearly face-to-face, he almost ran to her. But there was something in her bearing so unlike the Shanna of just a week ago that it gave Aaron pause. She stood taller and straighter, with an air about her that Aaron had never seen before. She'd always been cocky, confident, but this was different. Her face, aglow with the sky's eerie firelight, possessed a seriousness wholly uncharacteristic. Even the robe she wore was unlike anything he'd seen on her before. But for the color, it almost reminded Aaron of the robes of a sorcerer.

The disbelief and surprise at seeing her alive faded as words flooded Aaron's lips. So many he wasn't sure which ones to say first. But he found he didn't need to say anything at all. They'd known each other most of their lives. Looked out for one another. Shared adventures. Made vows to always be friends. Something unspoken passed between them. In that moment, Aaron saw it in her face and in her eyes. It was there in the turn of her head, in the way she reached up to smooth her wet hair behind her ears, and in the slight slouch that exemplified her defiance at anyone who dared to tell her how, where, or when she should do something. Here, at last, was the Shanna he knew so well.

Shanna flashed him a smirk. "You look like Hell."

Aaron glanced down, at the mud caked over torn pants, at his shirt, stained with grime and blood and shredded from thorns, scrapes, and a week in the wild, and at his hands and bare feet, for he'd lost his shoes a second time at Wildemoore. His hair was a mess, his lips blistered, he knew he stank, and, now that Shanna mentioned it, he felt like Hell, too. Still, Aaron returned a smile. "It's been a long week."

For a brief moment, Aaron thought that was it. That Shanna would laugh or at least giggle, then they'd run to each other, meeting halfway before exchanging stories about everything that had befallen them. But Shanna's smirk did not blossom into a full smile, but instead faded into an expression neutral, dispassionate, and—Aaron felt a wrenching in his gut—pained. For the first time, he noticed the blood staining the front of her robe and just how ashen her face looked. Also, he noticed that she was not entirely alone. Set close at her other side was a machine that in too many ways resembled Ansanom's extraction engine.

"I knew this place from before," she said. "I found it after you let me go."

Aaron's excitement at their reunion, already fading, plummeted at her words. He remembered their ordeal in the Underkeep all too well. Evidently, so did Shanna. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean for you to… it's just that… I couldn't hold on. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Aaron," Shanna said. Her head turned in that way that always made his heart flutter. The smirk almost returned to her lips. "I don't blame you." Shanna turned her back to him, so that she faced the depression. "I didn't know what it was at first. I thought it was just some stupid place where people used to do… whatever. But now… now, I know what it is."

"What do you mean?" Aaron asked, his own curiosity inching him forward. A sudden stare from Shanna, shot from over her shoulder, stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't come any closer, Aaron." Thunder rumbled overhead.

"Shanna," Aaron said, choosing his words carefully, "I don't know what Erlek told you—"

"You know about Erlek?"

"Yes. He's dead. We—I—killed him."

Shanna's gaze drifted back to the emanation of power. "Yes, I know. Erlek deserved to die. I would have killed him myself, but… . He used the Elements to destroy our home, Aaron. He was an evil man. I should have killed him. But, now, at least he's gone." Shanna turned. "Erlek wanted the Four Elements. But only because they are a key that unlocks an even greater power. He may have wanted the Four Elements, but he was always only ever interested in the Fifth."

Aaron's gaze narrowed. "Elsanar mentioned a fifth Element, but he never did more than that. When we told this to Ansanom, he claimed to know nothing about it. In fact, he tried to force information from us when…" Aaron swallowed. The memories were still too fresh. His pause gave Shanna the opportunity to smile knowingly. She knew what the Fifth Element was. He saw in her face that she would tell him whether he asked or not. He chose to ask. "What is the Fifth Element?"

Shanna spread her arms wide. "Everything around you. The rock beneath our feet. The sky above us. The falling stars we used to wish upon from the top of Graggly's Tower." She stepped away from the glowing depression, her voice taking on new enthusiasm as she went on. "It is the birds we—I—used to try to hit with a sling. The whales we spied from Regrok. The leaves on the trees and the wind sweeping through our hair and the waves of the ocean. The Fifth Element is everything, Aaron. Everything!" She paused, looking out over the edge of the mountain. "And, now, it's mine."

"Yours?" Aaron was still trying to digest her words when her last statement bubbled up to the top of his thoughts. Erlek may have started this, but Shanna meant to finish it. "This isn't right, Shanna. You don't know—"

"Don't know what I'm doing? I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Shanna, if you're right about the Fifth Element, if it is what you say, it's more fundamental than how you described it. It's energy. Earth energy. You're right, it's what Erlek wanted. But it's not what he was truly after."

"What? Why do you say that? He wanted the Fifth Element. I know he did."

"Yes, but if that was all he wanted, why construct this engine?"

Shanna glanced at the great metallic thing. "How do you know about that?"

"Because Erlek was working with someone who had one just like it."

"Do you know how it works?"

Aaron turned away. Not because he meant to discard Shanna's question, but because, finally, the pieces were falling together.

"Answer me!"

The ground beneath Aaron's feet shook so that he felt compelled to turn to her.

"Shanna, how did you learn you were a descendant of Tarn Galangaul?"

That stopped her from saying anything.

"It doesn't matter. After the attack, we fled from the city. Ensel Rhe and I. We were pursued, Shanna, by dogs. They were led by a master. They were trying to kill me. They almost did."

Shanna screwed her face in a look of puzzlement. "Why would anyone send dogs after you?"

"Because the ones who sent them thought I was you. They weren't really trying to kill me. They were trying to kill you."

"What are you talking about, Aaron? If this is some sort of trick—"

"No! It's not a trick. Don’t you see? It all finally makes sense. Erlek was the one who attacked Norwynne. Ansanom hired the assassins. But they summoned the dogs. After all this time, they're still hunting the elementalists and their descendants. They thought I was one of them. Probably because I was Elsanar's assistant. But, you…" Aaron saw that he had Shanna's attention, at least for the moment. "They wouldn't have noticed you. You wouldn't have caught anyone's attention. You were—"

"Nobody?"

"No! That's not what I was going to say. You were hidden from them. Inconspicuous. They wouldn't have known about you. So instead they sent the dogs after me."

"Aaron, what are you talking about?"

Aaron wasn't listening. "They wanted me—you!—dead. When Erlek attacked, there was too much confusion or else they knew I'd fled, so they summoned the hounds. I always assumed it was Erlek who'd sent them, but I was wrong."

Aaron saw that none of this was making sense to Shanna and that she was quickly running out of patience.

"Aaron, I have no idea what you are talking about. You keep speaking as if I know who 'they' are, but—"

"The druids."

Shanna went silent.

"'They' are the druids, Shanna. They've had unfinished business with the elementalists for five hundred years now. They must have learned how to alchemically prolong their lives just like Erlek. Prolong their lives so they could wait."

"Wait for what?"

Aaron took in a breath and held it. He exhaled slowly. "For Erlek to find the Elements. They couldn’t find them themselves, but they must have known Erlek was searching for them. While Erlek spent his time looking for the Elements, the druids searched for Tarn's remaining descendants. They must have killed them, one-by-one, until you were one of the only ones left. Of course, they were trying to kill me, which would have then left only Erlek's apprentice. Once Erlek had the Elements, they'd kill him, and Erlek too. But they would have needed someone close. Once Erlek's apprentice had all four of the Elements, it would be far too dangerous to just…" Aaron stopped. He looked at the dark splotch front and center on Shanna's robe. "Shanna, what happened?"

Shanna looked down, inspecting the stain. As she lifted that part of the robe, Aaron just saw the paleness of her skin through the knife slit at the center of the fabric. "Mirna happened, that's what. She tried to kill me."

"She was one of them, too, then. A druid, or a servant of theirs. What happened to her?"

Shanna inhaled sharply. "She's dead. She tried to kill me—to stop me!—so I killed her instead." There was sadness, perhaps remorse, in her tone.

"Shanna—"

"She wasn't the only one," she said in nearly a whisper. Her whole body slumped then, and in that moment she suddenly seemed more vulnerable than Aaron had ever seen her before. "I didn't want to Aaron, but they wouldn't stop. I told them to just go away, but they came here, just like you, and tried to stop me."

It was Aaron's turn to express confusion. "Who tried to stop you?"

Shanna didn't say anything right away. Instead she turned her gaze from him to stare out across the fiery sky. The winds whipped her hair about her face. She grabbed hold of it, keeping it still with a single clenched fist. "I always thought I was meant for the Underkeep. That someday I'd be as worn out as Nora, walking around with a hunch and a limp and burns from the hot oils she used to make me stir. Everyone would know I was there, making their soap, but no one would ever visit. When I went aboveground, no one would look at me or even thank me. They did it to Nora and so they'd do it to me too." Shanna, letting go of her hair, allowed the wind to whip it about her face as she bowed her head. "They killed Nora, Aaron. Threw her to the ground and stuck a spear in her. There were others…" A pause. "Corrin. Erlek sucked him dry. Used him up. I didn't know what they were doing to him, I swear, but I found him after." She shuddered. "Poor Corrin," she whispered.

"Shanna…"

"I'm sorry, Aaron. I warned them, but they wouldn't stop." She sighed, looking not outward now but inward. Ruins of the keep were there, limned in flame, but there was nothing else. "I warned them."

Aaron followed the line of her gaze, not entirely sure at first what he should be focusing on. He had to blink and look twice before he realized what was missing. Ellingrel. It was gone. No, only obscured, Aaron tried to tell himself. Yet there stood what remained of Lord Vuller's keep. Right next to it, rising into the sky, should be… Aaron's knees went weak. The Tower wasn't there. Aaron turned to Shanna. "What happened to Rufia and the other apprentices? What happened to…?" Aaron, remembering all of the people who'd come to the Tower seeking refuge, looked on Shanna with a look of horror he made no attempt to hide.

She took a step away from that look. "I…" she started to say, but then fell silent. Remorse and regret played out across her features. She looked at Aaron, a silent plea reflected in her eyes. She'd stepped over a precipice, Aaron knew, but hadn't hit bottom yet. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe there was still time to throw her a rope. But with the empty space where Ellingrel once stood blotting out all other thought, he simply stood there and offered nothing.

It was Serena, who'd hung back listening, who caused Shanna's stare to sharpen as she came to stand next to Aaron. In an instant, Shanna's mood changed. Her features darkened, her lips grew tight, and her hands, hanging loose at her sides, clenched into fists.

"Who's this?" Shanna asked.

Aaron glanced sidelong at Serena. Aaron saw the trembling in her shoulders and in the line of her jaw. But she'd stepped forward to remind Aaron of why they'd come. She’d fought back her own fear to lend him what strength she had left.

"This is Serena," Aaron said. "She's—"

"Why are you here, Aaron?"

Aaron felt Serena's hand slip into his. The gesture did not go unnoticed by Shanna, whose stare darkened further. The ground trembled again.

Aaron took a deep breath. "We came to stop Erlek's apprentice. We—I didn't know it was you."

"I'm not Erlek's apprentice. I never was. So just go away. Go back to—"

"Go back to where? Where am I supposed to go, Shanna? This was my home. This was our home."

"No. This hasn't been my home for a long time. Erlek may have been an evil man, but he showed me who and what I truly am. I'll never go back to being what I was. I'll never go back to being nothing."

"You were never nothing, Shanna! Not to me!"

"What about everyone else?" Anger lit her face. "You don't know what it was like! How they looked at me! How they treated me!"

"There isn't anyone else, Shanna! You saw to that. Everyone is gone!"

"No, not everyone," Shanna said. "Some escaped. Go to them, Aaron. Please."

Aaron stayed put.

"You can't stop me."

Aaron swallowed. She was right. His plan had been simple: turn the pack loose, let them kill Erlek's apprentice just as they'd slain Erlek himself. Aaron felt the hounds even now, prowling the periphery, waiting to be summoned. But after what they'd done to Erlek… Aaron couldn't stand to watch them tear Shanna apart like that. He doubted how effective they might be against her, anyway. She was much more powerful than Erlek had ever been and would probably brush them aside as if they weren't there. Aaron suddenly felt tired, exhausted. So much had happened, and for what? He shouldn't have had a part in any of this. He was neither sorcerer, druid, nor elementalist. At best, he was nothing more than an alchemist.

"I know, Shanna," Aaron said. "I know I can't stop you. But I also know I don't have to. The druids are coming, Shanna. They're coming to finish things."

"How do you know that? Did you tell them where to find me? Did you bring them—"

"No! I already told you. They tried to kill me. Why would I help them? Ending this—keeping anyone from gaining control of the Elements—has been their purpose for five hundred years. That's why they're coming."

There was enormity in his words, a weight that settled on Shanna's shoulders and almost appeared to weigh her down. But she shook the effect off. "It doesn't matter. Let them come. You said it yourself. They no longer have any powers. They can't stop me."

"Yes, they can. We're standing on a Nexus, probably a very powerful one. The druids may have lost their powers, but they discovered a method to regain them. They were alchemists. They found a way. Erlek did. So did Ansanom. Shanna, this has already happened once. Five hundred years ago, the druids confronted the elementalists. They had the Elements and they were still defeated. The elementalists were once druids. If they were stopped, what chance do you have?"

That gave Shanna pause as she chewed at her lip.

"There's another way, Shanna," Aaron said. "Let them have the Elements. It's the only thing they've ever wanted anyway. Let the druids have them. End this. After that, they'll leave us alone. They'll destroy the Elements like they always wanted and then they won't have any reason to come after either of us. It will all be over."

Quiet, Shanna considered it. At least Aaron thought she did until, without warning, her features twisted in anger.

"You think I'm stupid, don't you, Aaron?"

"Wha—No! Why would you—"

"Look around! Do you think the druids are just going to let me walk away from this? It's too late, Aaron." Shanna turned and took a few steps away. When she stood before the machine that looked completely out of place amid the rubble, she turned back to them. "You do think I'm stupid. Too stupid to see what's going on around me! Too stupid to figure things out! Do you think I brought Erlek's machine with me for no reason? Do you think I had no idea what he was planning? I know what happened five hundred years ago, Aaron. That is not going to happen to me."

Aaron swallowed. Serena's grip on his hand tightened. "What are you going to do, then?"

"Erlek had a plan. I'm going to see it through."

"But, you've already done that, Shanna."

"Now who's stupid? Retrieving the Four Elements and bringing them here was only part of it. The rest was…" She turned, looking at the machine. "The rest was to use this," she said, waving her hand across its length. "Erlek wanted the power of the Fifth Element. The power of the druids. I have that. But only because of the Elements. I'm shackled to them. They're a weakness. Erlek's machine will remove that weakness and make me whole."

Aaron let out a breath. "How is it going to do that?" He was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that, but asking it at least bought him the time it would take Shanna to answer. The machine was too much like Ansanom's, with its metal gears and crisscrossing glass tubules. That, and the two men had been collaborators in what Aaron suspected was a shared purpose. Perhaps they each had their own agendas—surely they were each too devious to share all of their knowledge—but for both of them to have each constructed such engines… . Their purpose must be the same, or at least very similar.

"You told me once about attunement," Shanna said. "How every living thing has a particular signature, but how some are very nearly the same. Sorcerers share an attunement to magic. Druids, to the earth. But Erlek was neither sorcerer nor druid. He wasn't even a descendant of the elementalists. But he'd seen their power. He knew what possibilities control of the Elements would bring him. Erlek built this machine to gain mastery over them. He wanted to alter his attunement, to become an elementalist or a druid or perhaps something entirely new. The only problem is that…" Shanna's face flushed. She took a deep breath, then blurted out, "The only problem is that I don't know how to work it." She stood straighter, daring him to mock her. She waited, expectantly.

"You think I do?" From his vantage point, Aaron made a show of inspecting the machine. "I've never seen anything like it before," he said, hoping she'd forgotten his earlier inference. "I have no idea how it works."

"That doesn't matter. You're smart, Aaron. You can figure it out. I know you can."

"Maybe, but that doesn't matter. I'm not going to help you. Look at what you've done already. Like this, the druids can still stop you. But if you become one of them…"

"If I become one of them, nothing can stop me."

Aaron let go of Serena's hand and crossed his arms in a stance of defiance. "I won't help you. You can do whatever you want to me. I still won't help you."

Shanna snorted. "I don't need to do a thing to you, Aaron." She turned her gaze on Serena. "But, your friend…"

"Leave her alone, Shanna."

Winds swirled around Aaron and Serena, pushing them apart. Aaron was knocked away so that he fell harmlessly to the ground. Serena, however, was lifted and thrown—not gently—against a nearby rock. Her eyes fluttered, but she remained conscious. Aaron managed to regain his feet and was just rushing to aid her when a ring of fire sprang up around her. Aaron held his hands to his face against the sudden heat, but he could go no farther. Then the ring, the flames of which did not yet touch Serena, began to narrow around her.

Aaron turned back to Shanna. There was no glee there, no satisfaction. Her features were molded with determination. When she spoke, it was in a voice that was impassive and business-like. "Help me, or I'll kill her."

It only took Aaron a moment to make up his mind. Sighing, he said, "Alright. I'll help you." The ring froze in place, neither withdrawing nor moving closer. Serena was safe, for now.

Aaron walked to the machine. As he did so, he came as close to Shanna as he'd been since before the attack on the city. When he could almost reach out and touch her, he paused, letting his gaze meet hers. Though Shanna's expression did not change, Aaron thought he saw a quivering in her lip. But that was all. Aaron took the remaining steps to Erlek's machine.

Ansanom had called his machine an extraction engine, though Aaron knew it did much more than extract energy signatures from living tissue. It manipulated that energy, coursing it through vats of alchemicals that then altered its disposition. Ansanom's machine hadn't worked because the source material—Aaron—had been wrong. But if Ansanom had captured Shanna instead… . Aaron wondered if even then it would have worked. Given the correct test subject, the alchemical solution was the key. Wanting to confirm the presence of a similar process, Aaron climbed onto the device in order to inspect the vats. Under the watchful eye of Shanna, he undid the latch on one of them. It was filled with a solution that stank of sulfur and rotting eggs. Sulfur as a base, with mercium and imamium as catalysts most likely. Aaron refastened the lid. There was no extraction apparatus like on Ansanom's machine. But there were three bulging discs that reminded Aaron of great, translucent jellyfish, only without the string-like tentacles, at the top of the machine. Aaron studied the discs and the glass tubules springing forth from them. They were meant to absorb ambient energy, then pass a diluted version of that energy through the tubules and into the first of the vats. The cogs, gears, and drive shafts were there to shake and mix the solutions. Control arms were attached either high or low to each of the vats. One alchemical mixture flowed into the next. Aaron followed the line of tubules transferring the fluid to what looked like a transmogrification element. The element's output was in turn connected to a ‘lampshade’. The more technical name was a forzinian or energy imbuer. It represented the final step of the process where the reattunement energy was dispensed to the individual. The interaction was, presumably, what altered the recipient's energy attunement. The key to the process was, like Ansanom's machine, in the alchemical mixture, which altered the disposition of the attuning energy. Determining the composition of that mixture must have been exacting. Aaron didn't doubt that both men had spent much of the past five hundred years concocting it either individually or through collaboration. He spent another few minutes inspecting other parts of the machine, making a show of interest in certain other areas. In truth, he'd seen enough to know what was going to happen when Shanna had him turn the machine on. If he told her, she'd only think he was lying or trying to trick her. If he said nothing…

If anyone but Shanna stood there, he'd have no problem turning the machine on and letting what happened happen. But it was Shanna. She was his friend. There were times when he had thought she might be something more. Even now, despite what she'd done, part of him ached to jump from the machine and go to her. She was in pain. Even the old Shanna, though, had never been that willing to accept succor. Aaron doubted that much had changed. Other things had, though. She'd crossed a line. She'd killed. Not just once, but many times over and not all in self-defense. Even now, she held Serena in thrall, and might kill her at any moment. By all that was right, Aaron should turn the machine on now. Let it absorb both the ambient energy of the Elements and Shanna's current energy signature, diffuse it into the machine's pre-programmed alchemical mixture, and let it end this madness. But doing so would also end Shanna's life. Still, it was the right decision. The only decision. But, as Aaron took in Shanna's expectant gaze, blue eyes blazing with the sky's fire, that raven hair sweeping about her face, he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill his friend.

Aaron jumped down from Erlek's machine. "It won't work."

Shanna flashed the expected look of annoyance. "Then make it work," she said, casting her glance at Serena and the flames surrounding her, "or I'll—"

"It will work, just not on you. It's calibrated to modify Erlek's attunement, not yours. If you try to use it, it will kill you."

"Then recalibrate it."

"It's not that—"

"I am not asking you, Aaron! Recalibrate the machine or say goodbye to your friend!"

In demonstration of her sincerity, the ring of fire trapping Serena shrank inward. Serena stood straight as an arrow, not daring to move her body, though her eyes darted at Aaron, pleading with him to help her.

Aaron dug his heels in, hoping Serena understood that he was trying to help her. "I can't! I don't have the equipment. I would need—"

"What?" Shanna asked. "You would need what? These?" She reached into her robe and pulled out a tuning fork and a frequency meter. "I remembered how you used to walk around the city, always taking your measurements with these things. I saw them on Erlek's work table, so I took them. I told you I wasn't stupid."

She threw the appurtenances to the ground. Aaron only eyed them at first. He looked up at Shanna, took in her hard stare for one moment, then bent to pick up the measuring instruments. He gave them a cursory examination, partially by habit and partially to make sure they still worked. They did.

"Now," Shanna said, "take your measurements. Calibrate the machine and don't even think of telling me you don't know how. I know how smart you are, Aaron. I know you can figure anything out. For you, this should be trivial."

Not trivial, Aaron thought, but not impossible, either.

Aaron turned back to the machine, thinking. He didn't know everything about the machine nor did he know enough about the re-attunement process. Erlek had five hundred years to understand both. Ansanom, the same. He'd barely had five minutes. Still, he knew the principal by which it was meant to work and, assuming Ansanom's machine functioned in a similar fashion, Aaron knew more or less how this one would too. Erlek would have already calibrated the machinery to the proper frequency of the Elements. He also would have input the frequency of his own attunement. As a first step, Aaron knew he'd need a similar measurement from Shanna.

He spent more time examining the machine, walking slowly around it and acting as if he were taking ambient measurements. Once he had Shanna's reading, he'd return to the machine, try to figure out how to make the proper adjustments, and then… what? Turn it on and, if he'd done things right, watch her become a druid? He'd have to find a better answer.

Aaron went to Shanna, who showed hesitation at his approach but relaxed when she saw he only meant to take some readings from her. Aaron took his measurement, making note of the frequency value. By habit, he reset the measuring device, readying it to take a second measurement to verify the first. He lowered his head, holding the device close to his chest as he made sure it was calibrated properly. When next he looked up, he saw that they were no longer alone.

The look of surprise on his face was warning enough for Shanna as she spun about. Already, they'd formed a half-circle around the platform. There were eleven of them, wearing brown robes with hoods thrown back, all with hands that were bare and clenched into fists. They were plain-featured and every one of them old. But not frail. There was strength in their movements and power in their stern gazes. Five men and six women, Aaron counted. Every one of them had eyes only for Shanna.

"Go finish with the machine, Aaron," Shanna said from over a shoulder as she positioned herself between the glowing depression and the druids.

Aaron, unconsciously backing from the ensuing conflict, nodded, then he turned and ran to the engine. Beneath his feet the earth shook, threatening to throw him off-balance. With winds buffeting him from all directions, he only just managed to grab hold of one of the engine's metal supports before it rose to such a velocity that his feet no longer touched the ground. He sequestered himself within, hoping it was heavy enough to stay grounded. He risked one glance over a shoulder, but saw only flames billowing like clouds at the spot where the druids advanced on Shanna. Serena was lost in that maelstrom also. Aaron was neither sorcerer, nor druid, nor elementalist. But he knew alchemy and alchemical machinery. He looked at Erlek's machine with new eyes. Then he got to work.

* * *

Unable to will his legs into a standing position, Ensel Rhe crawled to his sword. Around him rang the sounds of battle as sitheri scimitar crossed with Krosus's butcher blade. Focused on nothing but his own weapon, Ensel Rhe imagined the snakemen approaching the houndmaster from both sides, much as they'd done to him. In a move of deception, one feinted, while the other moved in for the killing stroke. It didn't matter, for Ensel Rhe knew well the houndmaster's knack for shrugging off such blows. Nor did Ensel Rhe care, as long as Krosus did not claim the snakemen's lives for himself. Ensel Rhe did not know from whence the houndmaster had come. Once they'd harnessed the hounds, Aaron had ordered him to follow at his best pace. No one expected to see him for days. Magic, then. For now, it was explanation enough.

Ensel Rhe stood with sword in hand. His legs held him steady now as long as he made no sudden movement. Though his head slowly cleared, his side remained aflame. He embraced the pain, letting it become his penance for ever thinking he could return home without consequences. He'd gone back and his son had paid the price. The memories of finding Hannu's scalped body became his center now. The physical discomfort of his broken ribs, his weary muscles, his addled head were nothing next to such pain. Ensel Rhe took a deep breath, hardly feeling the scorching pressure against his broken bones now. Then he rejoined the battle.

Almost too late as Krosus sacrificed himself to gain a killing stroke of his own. The sitheri—not the one who'd displayed Hannu's scalp to Ensel Rhe—seized upon what it thought was a lapse in judgment, leaping in to slash his curved blade deep into the houndmaster. By the time it became aware of the ruse, it was too late. Even as he fell, Krosus hacked into the sitheri, cutting through the snakeman's shoulder all the way through to its chest. A visible shock ran through the sitheri's body, then its unblinking, serpentine eyes went blank. Its body slid free from Krosus's blade just before the demon himself collapsed to the ground. The battlefield was cleared, with only Ensel Rhe and the other sitheri remaining.

They faced one another across the fallen bodies. Ensel Rhe, knowing Krosus might rise at any moment, walked directly to his foe. The sitheri waited. The instant they were within sword's reach, the sitheri let out a venomous hiss, and the two were at each other. The snakeman's scimitar slashed at Ensel Rhe's throat. Not yet recovered, the eslar narrowly deflected the blow before returning the gesture. His blade sliced open air as the sitheri slid beneath his stroke. From there, their struggle degenerated into an even exchange, with neither gaining the upper hand. The tide only changed when Krosus, fallen to his back, his black blood washed clean by the rain that continued to fall in sheets, stirred. They both saw the twitch of the houndmaster's sword arm, though only the sitheri succumbed to its distraction. For a single moment, the snakeman's concentration faltered. It was all Ensel Rhe needed.

He hurled himself at the sitheri, thrusting the blade of his khatesh at the violet silk across the snakeman's torso. The sitheri reacted, turning to one side. At the same moment, Ensel Rhe's boot slipped in the mud, lessening the force of his thrust and allowing the snakeman to skitter to one side so that it faced his unprotected flank. Ensel Rhe only just managed to swing his sword around to block the slash aimed at his head. Catching the blow unbalanced him. It took only a shove from the sitheri's clawed foot to send him sprawling into the muck. Though the blow sent a blast of pain coursing through him, he twisted in mid-air, landing so that he was ready to dodge to either side when the sitheri's scimitar came for him. But the blade did not fall.

Krosus, risen now, forced the sitheri away as he rained down one shattering blow after another on the snakeman. The ferocity of the attack left room for nothing but a defense that Ensel Rhe saw was quickly deteriorating. Even the sitheri's well of strength was not without its limits. Ensel Rhe did not wait to watch his foe breath his last. In one fluid motion, he stood and leaped at Krosus, putting his shoulder into the houndmaster's great bulk. His charge sent Krosus stumbling away, leaving Ensel Rhe to face his enemy alone once more. For one fateful moment, they exchanged glances. Then the sitheri did the last thing Ensel Rhe expected. It turned and ran. A moment's disbelief froze the eslar, then he pursued. The snakeman, already obscured by the heavy downpour, almost disappeared into the weathering dark before Ensel Rhe, with a burst of speed and a determination that this contest end here and now, tackled the sitheri from behind. Swords were lost as the struggle became one of hand-to-hand combat. Even tired, the sitheri had the advantage, but its every attempt to get out from underneath the eslar or otherwise dislodge him was met with failure. Gaining a one-handed grip, Ensel Rhe refused to release the snakeman's throat. His other never stopped raining down blows on the sitheri's scaled face. He yelled words his rage-filled mind could not interpret as the world became a smear of scales, violet silk, and a sneering, serpentine visage that ebbed closer to lifelessness with each blow.

Ensel Rhe stopped only when the sitheri's struggles became nothing more than a twitch. Pushing himself away, his breath heaving, he rose, finding himself face-to-face with the Lord of Vengeance. This close, the demon's stench, which was not unlike the hounds he commanded, was near overwhelming. Ensel Rhe wondered if he need defend himself, but the houndmaster made no move toward him. He simply stood there, his great sword held point downward before him with one hand resting on the pommel while the other held Ensel Rhe's khatesh by the blade. With a quick motion, he threw the sword so that it landed point first in the ground directly before the eslar. Ensel Rhe reached out, wrapped his fingers around the hilt, and lifted his sword. The houndmaster did not move as Ensel Rhe turned to the fallen sitheri.

The snakeman, trying to slither away, had managed only to turn onto its stomach and crawl but a few feet before the effort became too much. With the toe of his boot, Ensel Rhe flipped him over. He said nothing as he drove the point of his sword into its chest. A hiss escaped the snakeman's lips, then faded and was no more. Ensel Rhe's grip on his sword faltered, and with the blade still protruding from the thing that had murdered and mutilated his son, he stumbled back.

Krosus was there waiting.

The houndmaster had not moved at all, though now he returned his sword to the sheath at his belt. The red hot coals that were his eyes flared as the mist seemed to move to envelope him, for Ensel Rhe was sure the houndmaster had not stepped back. In moments, the fog had consumed him, and then he was gone.

Ensel Rhe took several long breaths, then he found the place where the sitheri had dropped his son's scalp. He sank to the ground there, not moving for a long time.

* * *

Shanna reached into the Reliquary of the Elements, the place where long ago the Four Elements had been forged, gathering the Elements' combined might and Joining it with herself. The result was a rush of raw, violent energy that she focused precisely at the druids. They met her attack with like energy. It was only then, in that instant, that she realized their power, for each of them commanded the Fifth Element as well. Her attacking surge was met by an equal amount of energy. More, because there were eleven of them and only one of her. They moved to surround her, ignoring the girl whom Shanna now released, for she needed to concentrate all of her will on her immediate adversaries. The druids likewise paid Aaron no heed. If what Aaron had said was true, if the druids had wanted to kill him only because they'd thought him a descendant of Tarn Galangaul, then they'd have no further interest in him at all. The person they wanted dead was right before them. She was the last. Erlek's boy and Erlek himself were gone now. Her death would at last free them of their lifelong mission of seeing an end to the factious rebellion of elementalists.

They meant to reach that end quickly as they completed their encirclement of her. Raw energy, hot and white, boiled from their persons and shot out in billowing clouds that pounded against Shanna's own radiance. She pushed back, succeeding in one direction, but losing ground in another. She turned, compensating, regaining the advantage there but immediately losing it elsewhere. She couldn't let the substance of their attack touch her. She'd seen the effect of her own power when Ellingrel's apprentices had come to stop her. Dark smudges were all that remained of them. But neither could she keep this up forever. There were too many of them, their power too great. Shanna thought of the elementalists all those years ago trying to fight against such power. Those people had been her ancestors and the druids had robbed them of their lives and of their destiny. By what right had the druids done those things? By what right did they try to do the same to her? Anger, ever her well of strength, rose up to bolster her resolve. Though the druids leveled their might against her from every direction, she held them at bay. Even began to push them back. She saw the disbelief in their faces: shock in some, outrage in others, that she—a descendant of a traitor and so new to the power that was the Fifth Element—should defy them so. Their reactions fueled Shanna's will even more. She smiled to see them quake in fear for they knew they'd met their match. One druid, a man with a pointed nose and arched brow, paused to gather his strength, condensing his power into a surging outburst he meant to release in the next instant. He was not given the chance. Shanna saw the slackening of his will and pounced upon it, concentrating her energy against that weak point in their circle. Her power burst through, engulfing the druid in one instant and, in the next, expunging him from the world so that only a blackened spot remained where he'd stood. Those to his left and right closed the gap, but it was with trepidation now. Five hundred years ago, they were masters of the earth. No longer. For while their power had waned, the bloodline of Tarn Galangaul had remained constant and strong.

Aaron was right about them. Shanna saw that now. She looked deep into them and at their connection to the earth and she saw how tenuous that connection had become. It was a strand, thin and frail, still present only because of the potions and elixirs they imbued. It was a mockery, both of what they had been and what they were. They had been gods, with power enough to rule all of Uhl. Now, they were pedestrian, weak, not fit to command or rule anything. Least of all, they had no business standing against her. She would show them what they had lost. She would make them see what might have been had they only embraced their destiny as she had hers. Shanna turned her gaze on one of the women, a bony stick whose lips were drawn back as she snarled in defiance. Shanna reached out, then she twisted her open palm into a fist. Earth energy encompassed the woman and snuffed her from existence. Shanna looked to the heavens and laughed in exultation. She was everything they should have been. She was the goddess the earth had been seeking for five hundred years.

The druids closed their ranks, maintaining their attack, though as Shanna stopped her laughter and returned her attention to them she saw the abject fear in them. They stayed their course because it had been their mission for so long. Shanna saw the look in their eyes and knew that some would turn and run away if given the chance. No such chance would be offered. They might stop their attack, fling their arms in the air in surrender, plea for their lives. None of it would matter. They'd come to kill her. Instead, she would kill them. Shanna turned her attention to the next druid. Poof! He vanished in a spray of blood and guts. She looked at the next, and the next, and the next, having no intention of stopping until every one of them was made to pay for their defiance.

* * *

Aaron was almost finished making adjustments to the re-attunement engine when Shanna slew the first of the druids.

"Look!" Serena shouted. The moment the confrontation had started, she'd run to join Aaron.

Aaron, busy, looked over one shoulder, but by that time there was nothing to see but a gap in the circle the druids had formed around Shanna. But then Shanna killed the next one. The act gave Aaron pause. Not because he was horrified at witnessing the druid's death or by the manner by which the woman had been dispatched—in truth, both unsettled him—but because Shanna should not have been able to do that. Not once, and certainly not twice. She commanded great power, but so did the druids. Joined as they were, their power should have been more than a match for Shanna. It was a simple matter of energy summation. Unless that power, even summed, was inadequate.

While Aaron went through his rationalizations, Shanna slew another. One moment the druid was there, fighting for his life. The next, nothing. She did it with such efficiency, with such swiftness, Aaron wondered if she stopped even for a second to think about the lives she was ending. She was fighting for her life, Aaron reminded himself. The druids had come to kill her. They'd brought this on themselves. Didn't they deserve it?

Another druid fell.

Perhaps, or perhaps not. Aaron was glad he wasn’t the one to decide. Still, he wondered what well of resolve Shanna drew from that she could dispatch one druid after another with so little pause. Had this been what it was like when she'd killed Rufia and the other apprentices? Aaron saw the look of terror on some of the druids' faces as they realized they were doomed. They did not attempt to surrender, though, or retreat. Would Shanna let them do either?

Then Serena was there, blocking his view. She'd been talking, though Aaron hadn't heard a word of what she'd said. Now, with her face right in his line of sight, he could no longer ignore her. "She's enjoying it, Aaron!"

Aaron met Serena's gaze for one moment. No, she wasn't, he thought, though he did not give voice to his words. Then he turned away and went back to his calibrating. He didn't watch Serena as, incredulous, she jumped down from the machine, circled it, then positioned herself upon a support that put her square in his way.

"You can't make her into one of them," she said. "As long as she's tethered to the Elements, she has a weakness. Make her a druid and they'll be no stopping her."

Aaron almost tried to get around her, to finish his work, but he stayed where he was, taking in Serena's stare. She'd gotten over her fright. She'd found a way to shake it off, to bury it deep within where it could no longer rule her. She wasn't the only one.

Aaron took in a deep breath. Then, with a steady voice, he said, "If I don't do this, she'll kill you."

"If you do this, she'll probably kill both of us."

Aaron said nothing to that. He looked towards the battle. Only a handful of druids remained. One was on his knees, surrendering, his hands clasped before his face in a sign of mercy. Shanna gave him none. When she was done with that one, she turned her power on the next. Only moments longer and they'd all be gone. Five hundred years of scheming and planning, undone in a matter of minutes.

Aaron jumped down from his perch. He followed the line of a tubule with his finger, stopping when he reached a manifold topped with levers. One-by-one, he made slight adjustments in their positioning. Serena followed, intent on making Aaron listen to reason when instead he cut her off.

"I need you to do one last favor for me, Serena," Aaron said. "I need you to get away. Start running. Don't look back. Get away, now, before it's too late."

Serena's face twisted in confusion.

"Find Master Rhe. Make sure both of you are clear of this place. He won't say anything, but we're both grateful for what you did at Wildemoore. I know it must not have been easy, going against your master like you did."

Serena's expression grew no less quizzical, though it was lined with suspicion now. "Aaron, what are you—"

"Aaron!"

It was Shanna, done with the druids now.

Aaron tried to smile at Serena, but his lips fell short of conveying the full expression. "I'm going to help my friend." Then he started walking around the machine so he could face Shanna uninhibited. Aaron half-expected Serena to try tackling him, but she stayed where she was, frozen either with disbelief or confusion. Perhaps both. He hoped she would do as he asked.

Aaron approached Shanna from the control-side of the machine. She stood close enough now that Aaron had only to take a few steps past the levers and dials to properly address her. She looked… sickly. Exhausted. Pale and sunken-eyed. One hand hung limply at her side. The other was clutched at her gut where her shirt was stained crimson. Her hair had blown across her face. As if no longer possessed of the strength to brush it aside, she left it where it lay.

"Are you finished?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse, her body faltering. Yet the tone of her words remained as strong as ever.

"Yes, I'm finished," Aaron said. "I just need to turn it on and—"

"Don't bother."

Aaron narrowed his brow in confusion. "But don't you—"

"No. Not anymore."

"But why not?" Aaron felt he knew the answer to that question already, but it was the only thing he could think to say.

"Didn't you see what I just did?"

"Yes, I saw."

"The druids are gone." Such a simple statement, but there was too much satisfaction in the words, too much conviction. "Whatever Erlek had planned, whatever he'd wanted to do, it doesn't matter now. He was weak. Maybe he needed a machine to give him strength, but I don't." Then she turned away and started walking to the radiating depression.

"Shanna, wait," Aaron said, not loud, but with enough voice that he knew Shanna heard him. She didn't stop, nor even offer a look over her shoulder. "Shanna!" Shouted this time, it caused her to stop, turn, and face him.

"What?" The single word was dismissive, as if she only humored him by asking it.

"Remember what you asked me on the top of Graggly's Tower, before all of this happened?"

Shanna said nothing at first. Perhaps she was thinking. Perhaps the question was only unexpected. When it looked as if she wasn't going to say anything at all, Aaron answered for her.

"You asked me if we'd always be friends."

"I remember," she said.

"I didn't get a chance to answer. Not really. What I wanted to say was that, yes, we'll always be friends. No matter what. I mean it, too."

Her expression became one of conciliation. She shifted her weight, leaning in that way she always did. Suddenly, she was the Shanna of old again. "I know, Aaron. You were always my best friend."

"You were mine, too." Aaron held her gaze for a moment, drinking in those dark eyes, then he let his gaze fall to the ground. He could leave it at that. A simple recognition of what each meant to the other. It would be a good memory, one he could look back on for years. He only had to say nothing else and leave the exchange where it was. But he couldn't do that. "Because we're friends, Shanna, I'm going to say this one last time. Stop this. Throw the Elements into…" Aaron made a show of looking for a place. He threw up his arms in resignation. "Throw them into the ocean!" It was as good a place as any. "It's not too late. We can walk away from this. The both of us. I know things will never be the same, but we can at least try."

Shanna's shoulders rose and fell in a great sigh. "Aaron, I already told you. This is where I belong now, doing exactly what I'm doing. I'm not walking away from anything."

Aaron took a breath, then let it out slowly. "Then I have to stop you, Shanna. I'm sorry, but I have to."

The familiarity in her expression melted into one of annoyance. "Aaron, you can't stop me. You saw what I did to the druids. You know what I did to the others. How do you think you're going to stop me? You can't. Now just go away or—"

"Or what? You'll kill me, too?"

"I don't want to. But…" She paused, shaking her head, obviously torn. With not much more effort, though, she made up her mind. It was not the course of action Aaron expected. "I don't have to. You can't do anything to stop me, Aaron. You're not a sorcerer or a druid. You're not even a wizard's apprentice. I know that now. You, you're nothing more than a… a lab assistant! And it looks like you don't even have your funny lab coat with all of your alchemicals." The radiance shining from the depression behind Shanna gleamed brighter and Shanna, who rose to her full height now, still short of Aaron's but still seeming taller and absolutely more powerful, flashed Aaron a stare of such menace, framed by such pale, deadly beauty, that Aaron took an involuntary step back. "Now, go away, Aaron. I'm not going to ask you again."

Aaron kept retreating. Shanna, pleased with his reaction, crossed her arms and smirked, probably thinking his staggering, backward trend was a precursor to his turning and bolting. But Aaron only wanted to get closer to the machine's controls. He put one hand to the main lever, gripped it tight, and just as Shanna narrowed her gaze at him, wondering what he was up to, he yanked down hard, pulling the lever so that the alchemical engine was activated. The effect, much to Aaron's dismay, was not immediate. There was a buzz, followed by the squeaky turning of shafts, cogs, and gears. A visible vibration coursed through the metal of the thing and a spray of alchemicals, priming the ignition cylinders, hissed. Aaron risked a glance at the control dials, noting pressure, flow, temperature. Everything looked as expected. The machine needed only an input source of energy now.

"What are you doing?" Shanna asked. "Why did you turn that thing on?"

Aaron said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

"Aaron! Answer me!"

The Shanna he'd known had never spoken to him like that, nor had she such a temper.

"Answer me now or I'll destroy the machine and you with it!"

Never would have threatened him.

"Fine! Just remember. You did this to yourself!"

No. You did this, Shanna.

The Elements' emanation flowed from the Reliquary as a raging river of energy. Shanna's presence split it in two, but it reformed once past her so that she stood as if a rock amidst a rapids. Aaron, his mind tricking him into thinking this preternatural energy was a force that would stagger him backward and not disintegrate him on contact, grabbed onto the frame of the machine with both hands. He'd barely closed his eyes when the raging flow engulfed him.

* * *

Shanna didn't hold anything back now.

She'd given Aaron his chance to leave and he'd not taken it. Aaron was smart, sensible. He knew the power she possessed and that, if provoked, she would use it. As the energy rose up from the Reliquary of the Elements and swept past her, she told herself Aaron's death was not her fault. It was his fault, for making her do this. For not leaving when she'd asked him to over and over again. This was not her fault. She repeated the words, mouthing them, even as the rush of power engulfed the machine and Aaron with it.

Shanna expected it to go—poof!—just like the druids. But it did not. Neither did Aaron. She felt the earth's essence surround the alchemical engine, permeating between the metal braces and filigreed tubules, the alchemical vats and spinning, whirring gears. She even felt it brushing up against Aaron and while she tried to force the energy to collapse around the machine, to disintegrate it like she'd disintegrated the druids, its main course remained drawn to the bulging discs at the top of the device. Try as she might, she could neither influence the energy's direction nor break it free.

Fine.

Shanna reached deeper into the Reliquary, drawing forth more earth energy to strengthen the already pulsating flow. It encompassed the machine, but did nothing more than join the violent tides and eddies flowing around the engine even as more and more of it snaked upward to be absorbed by the discs. Shanna didn't stop. The power of the Fifth Element was the Four joined, becoming the ultimate power of creation, or destruction. Its power was eternal and without equal. It was the power of the gods, born anew and given life through her. It was—

Something in the pit of Shanna's stomach stirred. At first, only a pang, nothing more than an ache. But it spread to her chest, her arms, legs, then into her neck and head. Still only an ache, Shanna shook her head, as if that might cast it off. It only made her head swim and her vision blur. Her violent display did not alleviate, though its steadiness diminished into jerking fits.

Aaron stepped out from behind the machine. His person remained unharmed despite the dangerous flows surrounding him. Shanna glanced daggers at him even as she clutched her gut where she'd been stabbed. It hurt the worst of all. She staggered a step closer, wanting to ask him how he was still alive. Instead, she simply said, "What have you done?" Then there was suddenly not just one Aaron, but three, all dancing around one another.

"You can't use the Fifth Element against the machine," they all said at once. There was more, but it became a cacophony of echoes from which she discerned only 'absorption' and 'reflection'.

"I have more than just the Fifth," she said. She blinked her eyes, trying to pick out which of the Aarons was the real one. It didn't matter. She let go of the Fifth Element, expecting its power to dissipate away. Instead it kept flowing uninhibited from the Reliquary. Like a thing that had suctioned onto her, it would not release itself from her even though she focused herself on shaking it loose and bottling it away. Like a thing alive, it kept on, drawing its power from the combined Elements but also taking a bit of her strength as well with each passing second. Shanna shook her head again. This time it cleared enough for her to see just the one Aaron. There was nothing in the stare he returned. Not fear, nor loathing, nor even pity. From him, she needed the last least of all. She had more than just the Fifth. She reached into the skies, pulling down the winds and the hot, blazing rain. Beneath her feet, the earth rumbled and the distant ocean heaved as she commanded it to come to her. But the winds, though they howled, were not hers, and the fiery rain fell as a mist, warm but not burning. The earth shuddered, but did nothing more, and the ocean responded not at all. Shanna turned on Aaron with murder in her eyes.

"What have you done?" she screamed.

Aaron was calm, standing steady. When he spoke, he shouted, but it was only to be heard over the charge of energy being absorbed by the alchemical engine. "You did this, Shanna. You left me no choice."

"What—What is this?" She strained her will, but nothing was as it should be. The Elements were there—she felt them—but they would not respond to her will.

"It's a reflective wave. Locked into the periphery field of the engine. What you're feeling is the engine's energy emission. It's changing your attunement, Shanna." Aaron shook his head. "I'm sorry, Shanna. You can't stop it. Nothing can."

Snarling, Shanna lunged at him. But it was a staggering gesture that caused her to trip and fall to the ground. She managed to stand, but almost immediately fell into a swooning motion that sent her back down. The world was spinning and though she dug her fingers into the earth, seeking its stability, it would not stop. The Four Elements, nor their combined essence, would answer her. Yet the unsettling—the changes she'd wrought—did not diminish or revert. They stayed, held by her interaction with the alchemical attuning engine. Then she realized what was happening. The engine and the Elements were locked into an exchange from which neither had a mind or a will to break. Between them, binding them, keeping them Joined, was her. On one side, she felt the Elements drawing from her. On the other, she was being remade. They were in lockstep with one another, one draining her, the other changing her, robbing her of her true identity. She tried to stand, to rail against what was happening, but she could not rise above her knees. She screamed, though it was with such shortness of breath that the sound was barely discernible even to her own ears. She tried to find Aaron, but her vision had gone blurry and she saw only a crimson blur where she imagined the horizon must lie. Her eyes might have failed her, but her ears had not. She heard the howling wind, the crack of the earth shifting beneath her, and, above everything else, the spinning and grinding of gears and cogs and the electric release of energy emitted by the reattunement machine. She was already on her knees, so it was nothing to fall further, to crawl on all fours. She was so close already, it should have been nothing to reach it, to extend her hand, lift herself just enough so that she could reach the lever and turn the machine off. Aaron said it couldn't be stopped. She'd show him. Nothing could stop her. Nothing. Except that her crawl slowed, then ground to a halt, for she'd no strength left. She fell to her side, wheezing. Just drawing breath became a feat of intense concentration and effort. Aaron had beaten her. None of the others—not Nora, who would trap her in the dark forevermore stirring hot oils, or Erlek, who she'd known would have killed her the moment he'd gained control of the Elements, or Mirna, who'd stabbed her, nor even the druids—had stopped her. Yet Aaron, who was possessed of nothing but a keen mind, had undone her. Shanna raised her head, just to look on him one more time. She'd neither rage nor animosity left now. She just wanted to see him because, despite everything, he was still, to her, the best of friends. Her only true friend. Through the haze of her vision she managed to see the engine and, now, Aaron standing next to it. It was the last thing she saw before the world exploded and she felt herself falling.

* * *

Though it pained him, Aaron watched the debilitating interaction between the engine and Shanna. He wanted to turn away. He wanted to stop it, but he knew that he could not. But when the energy tore a rent in the ground and Aaron saw his friend slipping away, he knew he had to do something. Diving for her, Aaron just managed to grab hold of her hands. Right away, he felt that there was no life left in her. It didn't matter. "I'm not letting you go this time," he whispered.

Beneath him, he felt a rumble. Then the entire platform where the engine and the Reliquary lie bucked and began sinking back into the mountain from which it had sprung. As it sank, Aaron himself slipped into the crack that now had become a great maw.

"Aaron!" Serena shouted from behind him. He felt her hand on his ankle. "Let her go!"

No!

"I can't hold on, Aaron!"

He slid some more. Serena, who held him as tightly as he held Shanna, slid with him. If she didn't let go, she'd die with him.

"Aaron," Serena said, more softly this time, "you have to let her go. She's gone."

Aaron knew it, too. But he couldn't let go of her. Not again.

"Aaron," said a voice that was not Serena's, but deeper and more familiar. "Aaron, you have to let her go."

Again, the earth shuddered, and the platform lurched. The motion sent Shanna deeper and pulled Aaron, Serena, and now Ensel Rhe with her.

Aaron glanced up at the two of them, come to save him. He saw the sadness in their eyes—even in Ensel Rhe's—for they knew what he had done. Then he looked at Shanna. If he let her go, she'd be gone. But then he saw that she was already gone and that holding onto her now would not be what she wanted. She had wanted to become one with the earth. If he let her go, she would at least fulfill that destiny. It was the only gift he could give her now. With his free hand, Aaron reached out to smooth the burned hair from her face. Her skin had blackened. For the first time, he saw the smoke drifting from the charred remnants of her robe. Her eyes were closed, her lips just parted, ready to form the half-smile he knew so well. As his hand drifted across the skin of her cheek, he choked back a sob. Then, slowly, he relaxed his grip on her, letting their fingers touch one last time. Then she was gone.

Ensel Rhe and Serena pulled him up. He was scarce on his feet when they took hold of him from either side. Together, they slid down the mountain's rapidly deteriorating slope. Then they ran. The noise of the earth splitting overrode all else. Cracks and vents opened all around them, making their path a circuitous one. The rain, at last, had stopped and the winds ceased to blow. Even the sky was, for once, littered with stars and little else. But such normalcy did not extend to the shaking ground beneath their feet. Only when they'd left Norwynne behind and run for a league, then two, were they finally brought to a halt by one final wrenching of the earth so powerful it knocked them from their feet. Heaving in breaths, they looked at Norwynne and saw nothing. The earth had taken the keep and more. The entire shelf was gone, broken off and sunk into the ocean. Wary of what might come next, they picked themselves up and continued their flight. Aaron only looked back once, just long enough to whisper a final farewell to his friend. He did not look back again.

22. Friendship

AARON PICKED HIS WAY DOWN the rocky slope. The old cliffs—the Breakers—were gone, replaced now by new ones far more amicable to foot traffic. So many thin, rocky walkways crisscrossed the sheer cliff face it was as if a master trailsman had plied his trade here. The routes were not without fault—Aaron had bruises and scrapes on knees and palms to prove that much—and many of them ended in sheer drop-offs. But once he'd found a safe path, they served, allowing him access to shoals from which he fished or speared during low tide. If anyone had come to ask, he'd have told them he fished for spotted anglers or speared for crabs. The former were a good, hearty fish. A mature one might feed a family for a day. Aaron's own father caught them regularly. But no one came to ask. No one but Ensel Rhe and Serena, neither of whom Aaron was ready to speak with yet.

Three days had passed since Shanna had died. After that first night and well into the next day, the survivors of Norwynne had returned. Many had broken down at the sight of the destruction which was absolute and complete now. Some had no reaction at all, simply looking on with empty-eyed stares and blank expressions. Many left. They organized into groups, stated their intended destination whether it be nearby Taloo or more distant Kirschnick, and departed. Even after the initial earthquake and flooding over a week ago, much of the keep had still remained. While a monumental task to restore and rebuild, it had given the survivors purpose. Now, there was nothing left, and no more reason to stay. Still, some did, though each day there was more talk of leaving as full realization of their predicament sank in. Soon, they'd all leave. Aaron wondered if he'd go with them.

Folk were wary of him. Many had witnessed his return. All had seen the result. While he'd not brought with him the triumph they had expected, no one blamed him outright. But they kept their distance. No one looked him in the eye. It was just as well, Aaron thought. He didn’t want their company anyway.

Most times, Ensel Rhe joined him. The eslar said nothing to him. He just sat and watched. Sometimes, his gaze followed Aaron's movement. More often, though, he spent his time peering off at the distant ocean. Aaron thought to ask him what he looked for, but the desire for silent thought seemed mutual, and Aaron kept his questions to himself. Besides, Serena talked enough for all three of them. The girl had spent far too long with only Ansanom for company, for once she'd warmed to some others and they to her, there was no quieting her. She talked to anyone who'd listen. She talked when first she woke. She talked through meals. She talked while she worked. She talked all the time until, finally, she went to bed. Even then, Aaron wondered if she talked in her sleep. He didn't begrudge her any of it. For Serena, tragedy had led to liberation. Though she'd not really been a prisoner, tutelage under Ansanom must have seemed so, and so Aaron indulged her newfound sense of freedom. He seldom offered much in reply. That bothered her not at all. In truth, Aaron found her voice soothing. He almost imagined it was Shanna speaking to him and that when he looked at her she was his friend, come back to life.

This particular day, Aaron had come down early, rising before most to catch the tide at its lowest. The moon was still up and the sun a few hours away still. With the trail steeped in darkness, he made his way down to his usual shoal with careful steps. He held a rod in one hand, it being too dark for spearing. He'd never been very good at the latter, anyway. Fishing, on the other hand, was simply a matter of patience. Some skill, but mostly patience. That was what his father had taught him. It was a lesson Aaron now embraced. Most of his catch he gave to Serena to bring to the temporary camp of lean-to's and small, covered spaces. He kept the remainder for himself and Ensel Rhe. They ate together, neither saying more than a few words, passing the time by eating and staring into the small fire lit between them. Aaron saw Shanna in those flames, burning. He'd no idea what Ensel Rhe saw.

At the shoal, Aaron was surprised to find Ensel Rhe already there. Stopping at the sight of him, Aaron said nothing. He was just about to go about his business of baiting his hook and stringing out his line when the first howls pierced the early morning darkness. They'd both first heard the sound while fleeing through the wilderness. As the second round of baying rose up, Aaron sighed and took a seat near Ensel Rhe. The hook and line lay dormant in his hands as he pulled his knees closer and dipped his head between them. That not working, he used his hands to cover his ears.

"You'll have to deal with them sooner or later, you know," Ensel Rhe said. "For good or ill, you are their master now."

Aaron didn't move. He almost said nothing. "I know. I don't know what to do with them, though." He'd tried sending them away. They always returned. He tried releasing them from whatever bond held them here, going so far as to consider hurling the blood-stained tooth into the ocean. The one time he'd come close to actually doing it, the hounds had appeared unbidden. One look at the hunger in their eyes convinced Aaron to hang the tooth back around his neck and leave it there.

"Best to ask Ursool's advice," Ensel Rhe said. "She was the one who gave you the tooth, after all."

The howling lasted only a little longer. Once it had faded, and the crash of the ocean's waves once more became the dominant sound, Aaron removed his hands from his ears. He did not return to his fishing, but rather sat still, soaking in Ensel Rhe's company. He thought they might return to their routine of silence, which was fine with Aaron, but then the eslar spoke.

"The people of Norwynne used to whisper things about me. They used to say I collected scalps and that I stored them in my bag." He patted the satchel which still hung from one shoulder, as if Aaron did not know which bag he meant.

"Yes, I heard the stories."

"Did you believe them?"

"Back then, I suppose. But not now. I know you would never—"

"It's true. This bag has been filled near overflowing at times. Who the victims were, of what race… I've no idea, for I was never the one who took them from their owners." Ensel Rhe crossed his arms. His eyes—pure white, fathomless, twin reflections of the moon above—had a look of sadness about them. He said nothing. In fact, Aaron was just beginning to think he'd decided not to finish his explanation when he finally said, "I left my home behind seven years ago. Self-exiled, if you will, for should I ever return my wife and remaining child will be killed by a man named Balrabbek. Balrabbek is a man of many trades, chief amongst them: warlord, criminal, murderer. Suffice to say I ran afoul of him in the worst of ways. He spared my own life and offered me a choice. Leave Isia forever, or stay and watch him kill my loved ones one-by-one. In the end, it really was no choice at all."

Aaron remained silent. He simply didn't know what to say. A full minute passed in which Ensel Rhe's gaze never left the distant ocean. Aaron was wondering if he expected him to say anything at all when a question came to mind.

"You said your 'remaining' child. What happened to the others?"

No sooner had the words left his lips than he wished he'd not spoken them, for in hearing them he thought he had already guessed at the answer.

"Only one other. My son, Hannu Rhe. When I left Isia I was a broken man. It is a terrible thing to lose one's home. Even worse to lose one's family. Bereft of both of them and knowing all too well of Balrabbek's convictions, I sank into a listlessness that was very near my undoing. Back then, I was not the man you have come to know this past week. I knew nothing of discipline or of the center, nor did I know more than the most rudimentary of fighting techniques. I was brash, headstrong. Foolish." Ensel Rhe's tone changed with his next words. "The krill make their homes outside our borders. I entered their lands."

Aaron swallowed.

"They obviously did not kill me. I wanted them to, I suppose, for why else would I have trespassed? I mentioned Yuma before. The claw master took pity on me, taking me into his home as a sort of slave. In time, he made me his disciple. For four years I trained under him. I thought it was enough. I returned home, thinking to challenge Balrabbek, to either make him rescind his pledge of death or, failing that, to kill him. I'd barely crossed into eslar lands when he had my son, Hannu Rhe, killed. Scalped. The boy was only six.

"His murder smacked of the sitheri's rite of initiation. Snakemen leave their pits at a young age, unable to return until they've collected a hundred scalps. They keep the scalps, as badges of honor and as proof of their kills. I also have been collecting scalps. But only because I've searched for the one they took from my son. Now, I have found it." Ensel Rhe related events that had occurred following the sitheri's waylaying of the wagon. He left nothing out, including Krosus's mysterious appearance and subsequent intervention. When Ensel Rhe was finished, he patted his satchel. "I'll bury what remains in the hills," Ensel Rhe said, "like I did the others. These past few days have been… . It is hard to let go."

That was something Aaron understood.

Ensel Rhe went on. "The worst of it all—that they took the life of my son, to be sure—but that Balrabbek insisted I flee immediately, without even time for an explanation to my family. My wife, Awen Ren, and my daughter, Jakinda, no doubt think I am dead. That, or they've been deceived by Balrabbek's lies and think me a coward."

Aaron's gaze wandered out to the ocean and the first tinges of the sun's morning light. When enough silence had hung between them, Ensel Rhe finally stood and started to make his way to the trail leading up the cliff's face. Aaron's voice stopped him.

"I know what it's like to lose a home."

Ensel Rhe turned and waited.

"I also know what it's like to lose someone you love. I wish I really was a wizard and that I could have saved her. She didn't have to die. If I hadn't let her go in the Underkeep, or if she'd only—maybe she'd—"

"Aaron."

Ensel Rhe was there, standing before him. His hand came to rest on Aaron's shoulder.

"Aaron, you can't save everyone."

"But I wasn't trying to save everyone. Just her."

"The pain will not go away soon," Ensel Rhe said. "It very likely never will. Take solace in the fact that, of all the things you have done, at least some of it was good. Sometimes, it is all we have. Now," Ensel Rhe said, his voice lowering almost to a whisper, "I go to bury my son."

Aaron watched the eslar disappear down the trail. It wasn't long before Serena appeared in his place.

"Hello," she said. When he didn't say anything right away, she frowned. "Still not talking?"

"I'm talking."

"Oh! Good. I was beginning to worry. That and I was getting tired of hearing the sound of my own voice."

Aaron doubted that. She'd made multiple daily visits in the time since they'd returned. But, unlike Ensel Rhe, who was content to leave Aaron to his thoughts, Serena spent the entirety of the time either attempting to engage Aaron in idle chitchat or updating him on every nuanced happening going on in the camp. Though Aaron mostly ignored her, he meant her no slight and was glad his aloofness did not deter her from her visits. In truth, part of him looked forward to seeing her and the news she brought. Excepting Ensel Rhe, she was the only person who did not shy from his presence.

Serena threw a glance at Aaron's discarded rod and line. "No fishing today?"

Aaron looked at the rod, then at the foaming shoals. Rather than pick up the rod, he found a dry place to sit.

"Maybe later," he said.

Serena joined him. Almost immediately, Aaron noticed a shiver run through her. They'd all had to make do with whatever clothing they'd had on their backs. Serena was no exception. He moved closer, to share warmth, though he came up short of actually touching her. She saw what he was doing and bridged the last bit of distance herself, even going so far as to hook her arm in with his. For once, she said nothing, content to take in the ocean's majesty. It was Aaron who finally interrupted the silence.

"Why did you help us at Wildemoore?" It was something he'd wondered since the moment he saw her enter Ansanom's laboratory.

Serena replied in a small voice. "Because I was tired of watching Ansanom hurt people. There were others. He used them while he was building and testing his machine. You saw—know—what he did."

Yes, Aaron knew.

"Did he ever hurt you?" Aaron asked.

"Me? No, never. My parents were paying him too much money for him to ever hurt me." Serena explained how, every month, one of her family's stewards would visit Wildemoore with a dual purpose. To deliver a lender's note to Ansanom but also to gauge her well-being. It was an arrangement that satisfied her family's desire that she develop her talent while Ansanom filled his coffers with the coin he needed to carry on his experiments and procure whatever special materials and equipment he needed. Of course, Serena's family knew nothing of the diablerie Ansanom was working, nor had Serena been given any opportunities to inform them of it, their family steward's visits having been closely monitored.

"Oh!" Serena sat up straight. "I suppose they'll be wondering if I'm dead after the next courier sees what happened to Wildemoore." She slouched so that she half-leaned into Aaron. "I'll have to get word to them somehow."

"We will."

Serena said nothing in response to that, but asked, "Did you have many friends here?"

"No, not really. A few." Aaron paused to take in a breath. He let it out slowly. "One, really."

Serena didn't need to ask who that one had been. "You liked her a lot, didn't you?" she said in a whisper.

"Yes."

They said nothing else as they watched the sun rise above the distant horizon. Serena rose sometime after that, excusing herself but promising to return later that day. She made it as far as the spot where she and Ensel Rhe had crossed paths when Aaron's voice stopped her.

"Wait!"

He stumbled after her. When he caught up, Serena asked, "Done fishing?"

"For now."

Aaron's gaze wandered past her, to the cliffs. He'd been walking up and down the trails for days, yet he'd never really stopped to look at them. They were so different, made all the more so by the absence of Regrok surmounting them and, once rising above even that but no longer, the spired towers and high buildings of Norwynne. All of it—Graggly's Tower, Ellingrel, Lord Vuller's palace, the Underkeep, all the nooks and crannies he and Shanna had discovered—were gone now. Aaron’s gaze returned to the crashing waves. Maybe he'd stay here, down by the shoals, for just a little—

"Tell me about her," Serena said.

"What?"

"Tell me about Shanna." She held her hand out to him. "Walk me to the top and tell me about her."

Aaron stared at her hand for a moment, then he reached out and took it. He started at the beginning, his first words coming out in a stutter that smoothed once he'd fallen into a rhythm. He did not have to search his memory for what they'd said to one another, nor did he have to dig very deep to remember what she'd been wearing or even what she'd smelled like. He remembered everything about her.

Nor would he ever forget.

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Scott Marlowe divides his time between writing fiction, mountain biking, and designing software systems for the accounting and medical industries. He currently lives in Texas with his wife and two crazy dogs.

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