The Emblem Throne
Date: 2016-10-06 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Young Adult; Fiction; Young Adult Fantasy
Description: Embark on a quest to save the world... As they strive to become Masters within the Ministry, Brock and his friends resume their training at the Academy, an institution founded on magic, science, knowledge, law, and combat. They soon discover an expansive web of conspiracies and deceit within the Ministry, hidden behind a veil of benevolence and piety. The exposure of one of those secrets forces Brock and his friends to flee the institution with their lives in the balance. Joined by a fierce Tantarri warrior, the group embarks on a quest to locate a mysterious throne that has been lost for cent
Publisher: Black Rose Writing

The Emblem Throne: The Runes of Issalia, Book II

Jeffrey L. Kohanek

© Copyright Jeffrey L. Kohanek 2016

Published by Black Rose Writing

www.blackrosewriting.com

© 2016 by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

First digital version

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Print ISBN: 978-1-61296-761-5

PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING
www.blackrosewriting.com

Print edition produced in the United States of America

For my readers.

Without you, Brock’s journey would have ended long ago.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

A Note from the Author

Black Rose Writing 20% off Coupon

PROLOGUE

Byland Hedgewick climbed the narrow ladder, his arthritic hands protesting as he gripped each wooden rung. Stretching an arm out, he grabbed a thick book from the top shelf and began his descent.

With his feet firmly on the floor of his office, he inspected the volume: Methods of Interpreting Prophetic Visions.

He gave a satisfied nod as he pushed his spectacles back into place. Turning toward the door, he lifted his purple cloak from its hook and secured it about his shoulders. With cloak donned and textbook cradled in one arm, he shuffled out the door.

The hallway was quiet, calm before the storm of activity that would mark the daylight hours. Hedgewick strode purposefully past neighboring offices and the side entrance to the renowned Academy Library before reaching the heavy wooden door that led outside.

The brisk early morning air was a shock to his senses, instantly eradicating any drowsiness remaining from his troubled slumber. The clear sky above the eastern mountains glowed a bright blue as the rising sun pushed the darkness of night westward. He descended the steps and marched across the lawn as sparkling frost crunched beneath the soles of his boots, leaving a trail of frost-free footprints on the path.

While crossing the lawn, Hedgewick surveyed the construction of the west wing. The effort had begun in mid-summer and was now nearly complete as the workers raced to finish before the first snowfall. The new wing would soon house female students. Hedgewick shook his head in amazement. The concept of women in the Ministry seemed an oddity, but it was certainly a time of change. Recent events had required the Ministry to alter its views, and opening Academy doors to women was just one shift among many.

Stacks of stone blocks stood near the tower that was to terminate the wing. Rounding the circular walls of the tower, Hedgewick found the small portion of the outer wall that remained incomplete. He expected the builders to fill the opening by day’s end. In fact, he counted on it.

With effort, he lifted his leg high enough to step into the opening, grunting as he hoisted himself into the tower. Straightening to stand, his free hand went to his lower back, rubbing at the pain. He’d never been fit or agile, but the years were taking their toll and anything physical had become a challenge.

Hedgewick examined the interior of the tower to get his bearings. The large circular room was over sixty feet in diameter, its interior doorway standing opposite from the gap in the wall. A spiral staircase occupied the center of the room, rising from the baths in the cellar below up to the three stories that would eventually exist above. He turned toward the open section of wall, closing his eyes to recall his vision. In his mind’s eye, he found it an exact match.

Approaching the opening, he craned his neck around the stone bricks to see past the inner wall. There was access to the gap in between, just below eye-level. Due to the cold winters at the Academy, they built the walls in two layers, divided by an air gap designed to insulate the interior from the temperature outside. That gap would become the home to his secret.

Hedgewick pulled the heavy book from under his arm. Holding it with both hands, he opened the outer cover to reveal the real book hiding beneath.

His thoughts wandered as he stared at the starburst-shaped rune embossed on the cover. Scenes of death and destruction danced in his head as he relived the visions that had put him on this path. He had no choice. It was the right thing to do; it was what Issal required him to do.

He flipped the cover open, reading the messages he had written the night before. Giving a nod, he gently closed the book. It would have to do.

Hedgewick reached into the gap and inserted the book into the wall, wedging it tightly just beyond view. He stepped back and exhaled. It was done. With a sense of relief, he paused to stare out at the valley.

The frost on the field of long grass glistened in the morning light. Fresh snow on the surrounding mountain peaks reflected the rising sun. The leaf trees hosted a variety of colors, ranging from green to red as they prepared to bare their branches prior to winter. Thin trails of smoke snaked upward from the town nestled along the dark lake at the far end of the valley. It was a beautiful and tranquil scene.

Hedgewick suddenly remembered the time. He was definitely going to be late.

Crouching low, he clumsily stepped down and hurried across the lawn to the main entrance. He ascended the stairs as rapidly as his body would allow, pausing to catch his breath before opening the heavy door.

He hurried across the main hall, his footsteps echoing in the large space as he headed toward a branching corridor. In his rush, he collided with a serving woman rounding the corner.

“Sorry, Master. Please forgive me.” The woman stammered while gathering the linens she had dropped.

“No worries, my child,” he said as he continued walking. “It was my fault.”

He found the doors to the Hall of Masters already closed. Pausing, he pulled out a small cloth and padded beads of sweat from his forehead. After stuffing the cloth back into his pocket, he squeezed the handle and opened the door.

Three long rows of tables ran the length of the room, filled with cloaked men. At the two outer tables sat prelates, visiting from cities across the newly formed empire. Their red cloaks were like bright stripes framing the dark purple cloaks of the academy masters at the middle table. Everyone was facing the table upon the dais, opposite of the doors.

High-Marshal Zurandus and Arch-Prelate Selbin sat at the ends of the short table. At well over six feet, the man standing between them towered over the room. Headmaster Hardig’s height was accentuated by his position upon the three-foot tall dais. The tall man, dressed in the silver cloak of his office, was addressing the Enclave as Hedgewick slid into an open seat at the middle table.

“…and so, I am pleased to inform you that the Cleansing is nearly complete.” Hardig said, leaning forward with his hands pressed against the table. “We are committed to this effort. Everyone in this room was part of the decision. We must show resolve and see it through.”

Hardig glared at the Enclave members before him, his intense brown eyes scanning the room for signs of dissension. The time for those sentiments had long since passed.

Standing upright, he continued. “High-Marshal Zurandus has been leading the effort to cleanse Chaos users from the Holy Army.” He gestured toward the military leader. “High-Marshal, would you please report your progress to the Enclave?”

Hardig took his seat, allowing the high-marshal to take the spotlight. Zurandus stood, the shiny metal plates adorning his white leather armor reflecting the incoming sunlight. While not as tall as Hardig, he was a massive man. At just over six-feet, he had a barrel chest and wide shoulders, further enhanced by the padding of the armor. His bare arms showed tan skin stretched tight over bulging muscles from his shoulder plates to the leather bracers wrapped about each forearm.

The high-marshal’s deep voice rumbled throughout the room. “I’m here to report that all Chaos users among the Paladin ranks have been eliminated.” This revelation caused murmurs to buzz through the hall. He paused, waiting for the crowd to quiet. His brow furrowed as he resumed.

“Careful planning and a well-executed operation left us with few casualties. Their ranks had been thinned considerably from the war, leaving them easier to dispose of than anticipated.” Pounding his fist on the table, Zurandus shouted to the room. “The Holy Army is now pure, ready to support the Empire without the taint of Chaos!”

The audience cheered, encouraged by this victory. The proud high-marshal nodded and returned to his seat. As the cheering subsided, the Headmaster stood to address the enclave. Sunbeams streaming through high windows shone upon his angular face.

Hardig nodded toward the man on his right. “Thank you, High-Marshal. Once again, the Holy Army has proven its value to the Ministry and to the Empire.” He turned, gesturing toward the man on his left. “Arch-Prelate, will you please present your update to the Enclave?”

Arch-Prelate Selbin’s white hair and beard seemed a fitting match to his red-trimmed white cloak. Leaning hard into the cane he held, the senior leader rose and addressed the room as Hardig took a seat.

“Thank you, Headmaster.” Selbin nodded toward Hardig.

The Arch-Prelate turned his gaze to the Ministry leaders in the assembly below. Although his aging body was beginning to fail, his eyes remained alert. Sharp wits had always been his best assets, and the years had leant a strong sense of wisdom to his arsenal. Nobody doubted that those assets remained as effective as ever.

“Children of Issal, we all are. None among us is perfect. Yet, we are said to be reflections of his likeness. Therefore, not even Issal is perfect. Chaos is his imperfection. The destruction and horror wrought by Chaos during the war cannot be forgotten by those who witnessed it.”

He looked around the room with solemn eyes. “As the shepherds of man, we’ve taken upon us the responsibility to protect humanity. Oftentimes, that means protecting man from himself. In this case, we protect man from the lure of Chaos. While the task before us may be distasteful, we do what we must for the survival of mankind and for the betterment of the Empire.”

The hall again erupted in applause, the sentiment striking a chord with the Enclave. His words provided validation to the chosen course. As the room quieted, he continued.

“With a heavy heart, yet a clear conscious, I now confirm that we have eliminated all Arcanists from within the Hierarchy. While not as schooled in the arts of destruction as their military brethren, there were more of them remaining.” Sadness reflected in his old eyes as he surveyed the room. “Even with the advantage of surprise, our losses were heavy. Many good men were taken from us, their sacrifice ensuring that Order would win the day and allow mankind to thrive without the threat of Chaos.”

There was no applause after this announcement. The room was silent as Selbin shuffled to his chair, leaning on his cane to sit. Hardig put his hand on the old man’s arm. Their eyes locked for a moment, resolve reflecting in their gaze. The Headmaster stood to address the hall.

“We now move to the last area of concern; how to prevent Chaos from returning.” He smiled. “I’m pleased to report that we’ve devised a constructive use for divining and will be incorporating it into a new ceremony. Under a newly instituted law, each Empire citizen will undergo a Choosing ceremony shortly after birth where they will be assigned a vocation rune, marking them for life. Above all else, this ceremony will allow the Ministry to identify and quarantine any individuals with latent Chaos ability. This will ensure a Chaos-free future for man and will do so without the Ministry being forced into any future act of genocide.”

The crowd clapped at this, but with far less energy. His mention of genocide struck too close to home, touching on thoughts they had buried deep.

Hardig continued, “This new divining ceremony will not only weed out Chaos but also is designed to ensure that the Empire thrives. We’ll begin training our Ecclesiast members in this new method immediately.”

Another round of applause followed. When it quieted, Hardig spoke once more.

“For the last order of business, I call on Master Hedgewick.”

All eyes turned toward Byland as he slid his chair out to stand. Swallowing hard, he absently pushed his spectacles back up his nose and addressed the room.

“I have an update.” He began in a hoarse voice before coughing. He cleared his throat before trying again. “I have an update regarding the issue of Chaos in the histories.”

Taking a breath, he continued. “Agents scattered about the continent have been collecting references of Chaos. We’ve received submissions from as far off as Kalimar, though it still lay in ruins from the war. These books, including everything from the Academy Library itself, have been destroyed. In a few generations, nobody will even know that Chaos ever existed, let alone how to harness it.” The hall erupted in applause again, saving him from speaking any longer.

Hedgewick sat down, his armpits now damp. He pushed his glasses up, his hand shaking as he did so. The Masters near him smiled and clapped him on the back as he smiled weakly in return. The feeling in the room was confident. Chaos was gone forever, or so they thought.

Byland Hedgewick knew better.

PART I:

GHOSTS OF THE PAST

CHAPTER 1

Nothing. Ashland Pym felt nothing. She opened her eyes and shook her head as she turned toward Brock, his face lit orange in the flickering light of their campfire.

“You can’t remain calm like you do when channeling Order. Chaos requires emotion,” Brock explained. “Fear and anger seem to work best. When you tap into that emotion and close your eyes, you should sense an external force, an energy all around you. Reach for that energy and draw it in, absorbing as much as you can. When it feels as if you’re about to burst, open your eyes and pour the energy into the rune.”

Ashland nodded that she understood. She just needed to do it somehow. Numerous attempts the previous evening yielded nothing, but it had been a long day of travel and she had been too exhausted to focus. She hoped tonight would be different.

Knowing that she needed raw emotion, Ashland’s thoughts drifted back to when Corbin had tried to kill her just a few weeks earlier. In her mind, she relived the experience, her stomach twisting in anxiety as he strapped her to the metal press. Fear and desperation began to overwhelm her as he cranked the press, crushing her head between the plates. She latched onto the fear, her heart pounding as the terror of the memory resurfaced. Shifting her focus, she recognized a frantic energy just beyond her reach. She pushed hard, stretching toward it. Tension held her back for a bit before breaking. A raging torrent of energy poured in, filling her until she feared she would explode.

Her eyes opened to focus on the rune carved into the log. She released the energy, it flowing out like a waterfall and causing the symbol to glow an angry red. A wave of exhaustion struck, leaving her feeling chilled and empty. The rune glowed for another moment, pulsing before it dimmed to black.

“You did it! I knew you could do it.” Brock shot her a smile. His smiles made her feel happy, even special. “Now let’s see what happens.”

He pushed the downed tree off the long log, the tree bouncing like a coiled spring when its branches hit the ground. Freed from the weight of the tree, the log began floating upward. Ashland watched the log bump and spin as it hit branches of the trees overhead, continuing to rise into the night sky until she lost it beyond the light of their fire.

“That was amazing!” Benny exclaimed. “I wonder how high it’ll go.”

Brock wrapped his arm around Ashland’s shoulder. “See, I knew you could do it.”

Ashland smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Benny was right; it was amazing. She glanced around to find Benny, Cameron, and Lars staring into the evening sky.

“I can’t believe it’s real,” Lars turned toward Brock. “This is what you did to the catapult that caused it to launch the ball so far?”

Brock looked over at Lars. “Yeah, but that was different. That rune made the catapult more powerful while the rune Ashland used here simply makes things super light, apparently even lighter than air.”

Lars looked at the night sky again. “Will it keep going all the way to the stars?”

Benny laughed, reaching up to pat his tall friend on the shoulder. “I don’t think so, Lars. Those stars are millions of miles away. Plus, the effect won’t last long.” He paused, looking up at the night sky. “No, it should continue to rise for a while until it’s no longer lighter than the air around it. The wind will blow it far from here, and then it will drop as it returns to its normal weight. Hopefully, it doesn’t drop on anyone when it comes down.” He grinned and bobbed his head at the idea.

Brock’s head spun toward Benny, looking worried. “I hadn’t thought of that. I figured it would be a safe rune for practice. I never considered that the log might drop quickly as the effect wore off.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Brock,” Ashland said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s done now anyway. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

He leaned in for a kiss, the softness of his lips contrasting the firm muscles of his fit body. When he pulled away, her eyes opened to find his intense green eyes gazing back at her.

“Okay. Are we done playing so I can eat?” Cameron asked. They were his first words since his last complaint of being hungry nearly as hour earlier.

Benny laughed. “You’re always hungry. We’d never get anything done if we always had to feed you first.”

Lars laughed heartily and slapped Cam on the back. “He’s got you again, Cam.”

Benny walked over to the fire, checking on the jackaroo roasting on the spit they had fashioned. With all sides now darkened to a golden brown, the smell of fresh-cooked poultry filled the air.

“You’re in luck, Cam. The bird’s done,” Benny declared with a nod. “Can you grab that end so we can take it off the fire?”

Cam eagerly looped around the fire, grabbing the other end of the stick that skewered the large bird. He and Benny hoisted the bird, walking a few feet before leaning it against a tree to cool. The others began claiming seats on the logs surrounding the clearing, eager to eat. Since it was a warm summer night, they kept a comfortable distance from the heat of the fire.

Lars drew his knife and began carving sections of the bird for each of them. Brock brought Ashland a hot slab of meat sandwiched between two halves of a hard roll. With her mouth watering from the savory smell, she took a big bite. The meat was juicy and complemented the chewy bread. It was a nice change after a day of eating trail rations. She felt thankful that they had decided to buy the jackaroo before leaving Fallbrandt the day prior.

Ashland glanced around the now quiet camp, observing her companions. All four boys were quiet, focused on their meal until Benny broke the silence.

“If we get an early start tomorrow, we should be in Selbin in time for lunch. After we get a hot meal, I’m going to the temple to see my father.” He pushed his rectangular spectacles back into place. “Are you guys staying for a day, or are you planning to continue on?”

Ashland glanced toward Brock, who looked toward Cam before answering. “I think we’ll just restock and continue west. We still have another two days of travel beyond Selbin before we reach Nor Torin.”

“Same here.” Lars said. “Heck, I’m not even stopping in Selbin for lunch since my folk’s farm is just an hour beyond the city. My ma will have something delicious ready for me.”

Lars stared into the night, smiling after the mention of home cooking. The big guy with curly black hair was the hardest of the group for Ashland to read. While often jovial, he seemed a bit guarded, as if he was hiding something.

“Can I ask a question, Lars?” Ashland asked.

When Lars shrugged, she said, “You mention your parents owning a farm.”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“I assume that means that they’re marked by Artifex Cultor runes.”

He nodded again.

“Are you the only person in your family to be marked with the rune of Issal?” she asked.

Lars stared at her, silent for a moment.

“My Ma had a brother who was marked with an Order rune, like me. He also went to the Academy.” Lars stared off into the night for a long pause. “I met him once, when I was ten summers old. He looked the part of a hero in his Paladin armor. He let me hold his sword, though I could barely lift it. I wanted to be just like him.” Lars looked down toward the fire. “He died in a skirmish with the Tantarri a year later.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Lars.” Brock said and the group fell to silence as they resumed eating.

Ashland looked about the fire, searching the faces of her travel companions. She was still getting to know Brock’s friends but she liked what she saw in them so far.

Brock’s roommate, Cam, seemed as loyal as a friend could be. The tall blonde boy didn’t talk much, but he seemed to be honest and friendly when he did speak. Having a big, strong friend like Cam was reassuring. She certainly would not want to be on his bad side, not after seeing him soundly defeat every opponent in the Arena Championship duels.

Other than a similar sense of loyalty, Benny was the opposite of Cam in every way. With a short and soft build, he would intimidate nobody. However, he had already proven to be among the smartest students at the Academy, and his talkative enthusiasm helped to balance Cam’s quiet nature.

Ashland noticed how they gravitated toward Brock, happily following his lead. They formed a tight group who looked out for each other, making her feel good to be among them. She felt a brief pang of regret for not allowing anyone to become close to her until she met Brock. Now she knew what she had missed.

She shifted her gaze to Brock, appreciating his handsome looks. His brown hair stood tall on his head before tipping to the side. His chiseled face mirrored the lean muscular frame of his body. He glanced at her, smiling when their eyes met. A wave of happiness welled up inside of her. She didn’t know how he did it, but Brock seemed to have a way of making others like him.

Brock leaned close and spoke quietly. “Now you know how Chaos feels and how different it is when compared to Order.”

Ashland nodded. “Yes. Order is so calm and peaceful. Chaos is crazy, even frenetic. Chaos feels like a herd of stampeding horses while Order is more like a frozen lake.”

Brock laughed. “I think you get it now.” His laughter died down and he became serious. “Since you’ve now made it work, it will become easier. We can practice together, getting better at both Order and Chaos. Who knows how it might help in the future? After all, if I hadn’t been able to use both, we’d both be dead instead of Corbin.”

Ashland stared into his eyes, her thoughts reflecting his. It still seemed unreal that Brocks’ rivalry with the Archon’s son had led to Corbin’s attempt to kill them. How close they came to death was far too real. If Brock hadn’t used Chaos to charge himself with a Power rune to free himself and kill Corbin, he would be dead. If not for his super-charged use of Order to bring Ashland back to life, she’d be dead as well. As far as they knew, it was the first time Order had successfully brought someone back to life. The unique circumstances made it likely.

Ashland shook her head to clear her thoughts and resumed her dinner. Once she finished eating, she found that the fire had dwindled to orange coals. Exhausted from a day of travel, the group spread out around the fire to find a comfortable spot to sleep, although comfort was an overly generous term when sleeping on the ground.

Resting her head on Brock’s chest, she snuggled up to his neck. Typical of when she was near him, everything felt right in the world. It was as if she saw life through a different set of eyes, helping to heal the scars of her past. She might never forget them, but she could overcome them.

With her head rising and falling with the breath filling his lungs, she drifted asleep.

CHAPTER 2

Benedict Hedgewick waved to his friends, smiling as they waved back before turning toward the gravel road ahead. With their backs facing him, he noted how Cam’s head towered above Brock’s and Ashland’s by a solid foot, his imposing frame making the other two seem smaller than they were. At six and a half feet, Cam’s muscular frame struck an imposing image. The trio rounded a bend and were soon obscured by the thick woods enveloping the road outside of town.

Benny’s gaze shifted to look out over the lake. Large enough that he couldn’t see the far shore across the widest parts, Lake Selbin was an intrinsic part of his childhood. Over the years, he had caught a fair share of fish from its shores. On hot summer days, he and Jimmy would find refuge in those cool waters where they would swim and play as if they didn’t have a care in the world. He tried not to think about Jimmy too often. Memories of his childhood were mostly pleasant, but such thoughts often led back to the night Jimmy died. Though six years had passed, he missed his friend dearly and the pain resurfaced upon thinking of him. Benny closed his eyes and listened to the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping against the shore. After finding a bit of peace, he opened them and released a sigh.

Returning to Selbin was bittersweet. So many good memories, overshadowed by a singular horrible event. It felt unfair that one small mistake could completely alter his life and the lives of those he loved. Leaving for the Academy had allowed him to bury the pain and live without the ghosts of the past for almost a year. With his return to Selbin, those ghosts began to creep back into his consciousness.

Shaking his head to clear it, he turned and began making his way through town. As he strolled the busy gravel streets, he took comfort in the familiar sights around him. Shop owners waved as he passed. The counting house where he had worked for five years looked the same as ever, its weathered wooden façade overdue for a fresh coat of green paint. After passing the counting house, the large building looming over the road ahead caught his attention.

The Selbin Temple was among the few buildings not made of wood. Built upon a hill, the pale brick structure towered over the homes and shops in the area. Benny ascended the stone steps and entered the cool environs of the temple.

After passing beneath the wide arch of the open doorway, Benny stopped to observe the empty rows of benches encircling the glow-stone altar. Colored beams of sunlight filtered through the stained-glass panels in the small domed ceiling high above. He circled the room toward a side door.

“Benedict?” a voice called from behind. “Is that you?”

Benny turned, a grin splitting his face when he recognized the man.

“Hi, Minister Nassim. I’m back from the Academy.”

As the man approached, a smile emerged from the depths of his thick white beard. “I see you have an apprentice cloak,” Nassim said. “Congratulations.”

Benny nodded in reply. “Yes. You’re looking at the Academy’s newest apprentice Engineer.”

The minister nodded. “As I expected. You were always too clever for your own good. Perhaps your cleverness can now be properly channeled.”

Benny’s smile faltered as Nassim reminded him of what his cleverness had done. Those thoughts made him think of his father.

“Is he here?” Benny asked, knowing he didn’t need to say who he was.

“Yes.” Nassim said, his face showing concern. “He’s always here. Never leaves.”

“How is he?” Benny asked, afraid of the answer.

“Oh, he has his bad days, but they’re now rare. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you,” the old man said, trying to sound reassuring.

“I suppose he’s in his apartment then?” Benny asked.

The minister nodded. “He usually is. Good luck, Benedict.”

Benny turned to pass through the side door, entering the multi-level building attached to the temple. He knocked on one of the two doors on the main level. With his stomach aflutter, he waited for it to open. After a minute, he heard the bolt slide and saw the knob turn.

The door opened to reveal what remained of his father. Patches of sparse hair grew here and there on the man’s otherwise bald head. His good eye focused on Benny while the clouded one stared somewhere beyond. The rippled leather-like skin covering half of his head looked just as bad as Benny remembered. As he recognized Benny, half of the man’s mouth broke into a smile while the other half barely moved.

Benny’s father held his arm out wide. Benny stepped in and hugged him, closing his eyes as he imagined how the man had looked before the accident. After a moment, he released his arms and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“It’s good to see you, Benny,” his father said. “I’m so glad you came back for summer break. It’s good to see you in an apprentice cloak, too. Congratulations.”

Benny smiled. “Thanks Pa. I made apprentice Engineer.”

“I knew you would, son. You’re the smartest person I know.” He awkwardly shuffled backward. “Come in so we can sit and have a chat.”

Limping as he walked, the man squeezed the handle on his wooden leg with each step. The artificial limb that Benny had invented three years prior appeared to still function as intended. With the handle attached to the stump of thigh remaining, a squeeze of his fist triggered an actuator that flexed his fake knee with each step. He shuffled across the room to his chair, lowering himself into it. Benny followed and took a seat on the adjacent sofa.

“I brought some gold, Pa.” Benny said, extending his hand toward his father.

His father stared at the pouch in Benny’s hand, silent. After a long moment, he spoke.

“Benny, the past is the past. Put it away and leave it there. You don’t owe me anything.” His father’s good eye locked with Benny’s eyes. “I have everything I need here. This apartment is paid for, you saw to that. I’m still useful enough to be an asset to the temple, so they feed me. I’m content with my life now. I miss your mother as much as you do, but I’ve made my peace with it. When it’s my time and Issal takes me, I’ll join her. Until then, I’m going to keep living the best I can.”

His father leaned forward, pushing Benny’s outstretched hand back toward him. “Keep the gold, Benny. Use it to build a life for yourself. You’ve only seen twenty-two summers. While you may be a bit old for an apprentice at the Academy, it’s quite young in the scheme of the world. You still have most of your life before you; do what you can with it. I want you to be happy, and your mother would’ve wanted the same. The time for guilt has past, Benny. Embrace life and make it your own.”

With tears in his eyes, Benny nodded. He wanted to leave the past behind, but the screams remained in his memory.

CHAPTER 3

“There it is,” Cam said, smiling as he pointed toward the city below. “Nor Torin.”

Brock’s eyes drank in the beautiful vista as they descended the hill toward Cam’s hometown. The sun hovered low in the west, painting the clouds orange and red above the dark ocean waters beyond the brick walls surrounding the city. The vibrant green foliage made the area appear far more alive than the brown scrub and bare earth that surrounded Kantar. With the tall trees surrounding it, Brock wouldn’t have even been able to see Nor Torin until they were upon the city if not for the elevated height of the approaching road. When he commented about the size of the trees, Cam mentioned trees far larger growing in groves south of the Torinus River. Locals called the groves The Red Towers due to the color of the wood and height of the trees. Cam explained that some of the trees had trunks wider than most roads. Brock found it difficult to believe, but Ashland confirmed it, having seen them herself as a child.

Brock and Ashland followed Cam into the city, passing through the eastern gate and down the busy streets lined with shops, inns, and street vendors who would not have looked out of place in Kantar. Many vendors were packing their carts as they finished the day’s business before heading home. Citizens on foot milled about, carrying bags of goods as they avoided the occasional horse or wagon passing by.

Upon reaching heart of the city, they came to a brick wall surrounding the citadel. The Nor Torin Citadel was a squat, blocky building built of a dark stone, making it a stark contrast to the pale narrow towers of the Kantar Citadel.

They looped around the south side of the citadel wall to circumvent the restricted area. After a quarter mile, the wall ended and the street turned north. Turning at the fountain outside the western citadel gate, they resumed their journey and the slope increased as the road descended toward the docks. While scanning the view of the wide harbor, Brock noticed something odd south of the river.

“Cam, what’s that?” he asked, pointing south.

Cam turned to where Brock pointed. “Those are the shipyards. Most of the ships on the west coast were built in those yards.”

Several large structures occupied the shipyard with each cradling a partially built hull. Men scurried about the area, carrying lumber and scaling the scaffolding that surrounded the cradles.

As the western wall came into view, Cam led them down a side street and up a short flight of stairs that led to a three-story house.

Cam opened the door and stepped inside. “Hello? It’s Cam! Is anyone home?”

A large sitting room with a brick fireplace waited just inside the entryway. As they stepped into the room, the smell of spiced sausage and boiled cabbage teased Brock’s senses and left his stomach to growling. A tall blonde woman came around the corner, wiping her hands on the tan apron she wore. Her face lit up when she saw Cam.

“Cameron! You’re back!” She cried as she embraced him in a hug.

“Yeah, but just for summer break,” Cam replied, the sound muffled by her hug. “School starts again soon, so we need to leave in twelve days.”

Brock smiled, watching the emotional reunion of mother and son. Amazingly, she didn’t look small next to Cam, which was rare for a female. At just over six-feet tall, she had a big frame and large chest. She released her hug but kept her hands on Cam’s arms as she stood back to look at him.

“I see an apprentice cloak. Very good.” She nodded as her eyes scanned him. “But you look as if you’re wilting away, Cam. Haven’t they been feeding you?” she asked, shaking her head.

Cam smiled. “I keep telling them that I’m hungry.”

“I can vouch for Cam, Mrs. DeSanus. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s sure to let others know when he’s hungry,” Brock said, smiling.

The woman’s eyes glanced from Brock to Ashland before returning to her son. “Cam, are these two your friends?”

Cam nodded, “Yes.”

Brock smiled at Cam’s typically understated response. “I’m Brock, Cam’s roommate,” he said, extending a hand toward her. “And this is my girlfriend, Ashland.”

Cam’s mother ignored his hand, instead bending to give Brock a hug. “It’s nice to meet you, Brock. Please call me Janis.” Releasing him, she turned to give Ashland a hug. “It’s nice to meet you, dear.”

Ashland responded as the taller woman released her. “It’s nice to meet you too. Thank you so much for letting us stay with you for summer break.”

Janis looked at Cam, raising an eyebrow. Cameron just shrugged. She turned to address Ashland again.

“We’re happy to have you but are a bit tight on space. Ashland can sleep on the third floor in Cam’s old room.” Janis turned toward Cam. “You and Brock will have to squeeze in with your brothers. It will be crowded but if it’s only for twelve days, I think you’ll survive.”

Cam nodded in response.

The door opened, and a large man stepped in. Brock had to do a double take, glancing at his roommate before his eyes returned to focus on the newcomer. If the man’s hair had been a bit lighter, he could have been an older, slightly heavier twin to Cameron.

The man’s face broke into a grin. “Cam!”

The man gave Cam a bear hug, thumping him on the back soundly before letting go.

“I see you made apprentice. Congratulations.” He nodded before glancing toward Brock and Ashland. “And who are these two?”

Not waiting for Cam to respond, Brock held his hand out to the man for an introduction.

“I’m Brock, and this is Ashland.”

“Nice to meet you,” the man said as he shook their hands. “I’m Cameron’s Father, Cassius.” He then hugged Janis as he sniffed the air. “Dinner smells good. I’m starving.”

She smiled and waved for them to follow. “It’s ready. Come on; let’s eat before the boys get home and eat it all.”

They followed Janis into the kitchen, finding a large table with six chairs occupying the middle of the room. Janis circled the table to approach the fireplace. She donned a pair of heavy gloves and removed the large kettle from the flames.

“Cam, please run upstairs and grab an extra chair for your friends,” she said as she set the kettle onto a small stone table.

As Cam ran upstairs, she scooped wet cabbage from the kettle into a bowl. As she prepared the food, Cassius pulled three plates from a shelf and placed them on the table to join the four already residing there. By the time Cam was back with the chair, seven places were set. A bowl of cooked cabbage and a plate of sausages waited in the center, beside a full loaf of bread.

“Please sit and eat.” Janis said, removing her gloves.

They heard the front door open, followed by the sound of two male voices arguing.

“…telling you that I unloaded far more than you did today.”

“As usual, you’re dreaming if you think you did more work than me, Jake.”

Two young men came around the corner into the kitchen. Brock couldn’t believe it. They were both even bigger than Cam.

“Cam! Come here, Puppy!” One of them said, closing the gap to give Cameron a bear hug.

The other was right behind him. “Hiya Cam!” His hug lifted Cam right off the floor.

Despite their brown hair and green eyes, the two young men were obviously Cam’s older brothers. Their faces looked identical to each other and were close matches to Cam’s, but with a Laboris rune rather than the Order rune that marked the rest of the family. The twins were both a bit taller than Cam and were each at least fifty pounds heavier. The five massive bodies of Cameron’s family crowding the kitchen made it feel smaller than it actually was.

“Puppy?” Brock asked.

Cam’s brother nodded, smiling. “When Cam was little, he used to follow us around like a lost puppy. The name just kind of stuck.”

“Okay, boys. Leave your brother be for now. Can’t you see that he’s hungry from his journey?” Janis said, taking control of the situation. “Everyone grab a chair and let’s eat.”

Bodies scrambled around the table as they all took seats. With food piled high onto plates, they all dug in. Brock smiled, noting how the amount of food on both his and Ashland’s plates paled in comparison to the others.

The conversation during dinner was light and sporadic. Once the food was gone, the chatter increased with Cameron’s brothers, Jake and Julius, doing much of the talking. They rattled on about their day of working at the docks. Here and there, they would take a playful jab at Cam, who would simply shrug it off.

About an hour after nightfall, Cam’s father declared it time for bed and they dispersed. Cam led Brock and Ashland to the small bedroom on the third floor. Brock bid her goodnight and followed Cam back down the stairs. Two pallets had been pulled out, now occupying the gap on the floor between Cam’s brother’s beds.

“It looks like our Puppy has come back to sleep at the foot of our beds again, hey Jake?” Julius said, with a chuckle.

Jake nodded. “It sure looks that way. If he’s good, maybe we’ll get him a treat too.”

Cam didn’t respond, but his face darkened and his lips turned down at the edges. He laid down on one of the pallets, pulling the blanket up to his chin and closing his eyes. Brock followed suit and slid into his makeshift bed.

With everyone settled, Jake covered the glowlamp and all became quiet. As Brock lie on the pallet, he thought about the evening. While everything appeared friendly on the surface, there was an underlying tension.

CHAPTER 4

Cameron woke early, anxious to leave. A whole year had passed since he had last felt this way. Back then, he didn’t know what to expect from the Academy, but now he longed to be back at the school and away from this house. Until his return to Nor Torin, he hadn’t realized how much more comfortable he felt at school than he did at home.

On the outside, his brothers seemed jovial and their jokes appeared harmless, but there was always an unspoken tension. The two older boys found subtle ways to put Cameron down, making him feel as if he were less than he was. Since his return home, he could feel himself drawing inward, as if he were a turtle crawling into its shell.

Cameron’s father made it worse. Marked with an Order rune, Cam always knew he was destined to follow in Cassius’ footsteps. Unfortunately, those were huge shoes to fill. Cam wondered if he’d ever measure up to the man he resembled.

Leaving Nor Torin was the only way to put it all behind him. After twelve long days, it was finally time to begin their journey back to the Academy.

Eager to leave, Cam woke early, packed, and was downstairs before everyone but his mother. When he stepped into the kitchen, she greeted him as she pulled a heavy pan from the fire.

“Good morning, dear.” She said as he entered the kitchen. “Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, Ma.” He held his plate out as she scraped eggs and a couple sausages onto it.

Cam sat at the table, eating in silence when his father walked in. The man appeared strapping in his leather uniform. As captain of the elite guard for the city prelate, he certainly looked the part. The man gave his wife a kiss before filling a plate and sitting at the table across from Cam. The two sat and ate in silence, eating while Janis prepared another batch of eggs. Cam gathered his courage, finally speaking.

“I’m leaving today, Pa. We’ve got to get back to the Academy.”

His father looked up from his plate, his eyes meeting Cameron’s briefly before Cam lowered his.

“I expected you’d be leaving any day now. The Academy asks a lot of you, but you’ll be a better man for it, Cam,” Cassius said, nodding. “You’ll find yourself a captain in the Holy Army before you know it.”

Cameron nodded silently. The subject made him uncomfortable.

The rumble of feet descending the stairs saved him from having to speak. He prayed that it was Brock and Ashland but found it to be his brothers instead.

“You’re up early, Puppy,” Jake said, seeing Cameron already eating.

Julius followed him in. “We were surprised when we woke and you were already out of bed.”

Cam nodded. “We’re leaving today so I wanted to get a good breakfast in before an early start.”

His brothers nodded, not saying anything. They grabbed plates and began piling food on. Cam assumed that they wanted him gone as badly as he wanted to leave.

The room was quiet as Cam’s brothers shoveled food down as if on a mission. With plates empty and bellies full, Jake and Julius stood to leave.

“Bye, Cam. Have a good trip back to school.” Julius said.

Jake waved, “Bye, Cam.”

They headed out the door, off to work.

Cassius stood and gave Janis a kiss. “Bye, dear. I may be home a bit late. Prelate Yaris is holding court today.”

“Okay, dear. I’ll be sure to save some dinner for you then,” she replied.

Cam stood to say goodbye to his father. Cassius unstrapped the belt holding his longsword and held it out toward Cam.

“What’s this?” Cam asked.

“It’s your birthright, son. I want you to have it.”

“I can’t take your sword, Pa. You need it for your job,” Cam replied hesitantly.

“No. I need a sword for my job. I’ll get another from the citadel armory.” His father replied, pushing the sword belt against Cam’s chest until Cam grabbed it. “This sword is meant for greater things. You’ll need it more than I will.” Cassius embraced Cam, thumping him on the back. “Keep up the good work, Cam. We know you’ll make us proud.”

Cam nodded, not knowing what to say. The sword belt remained clutched to his chest as the sheathed weapon dangled to his thighs. His father nodded to him and turned to leave. Cam watched the man’s back as he slipped out the door.

He looked at the sword in his hand, feeling thankful that it had been given to him after his brothers had left. The famous weapon was worth more than their house and was now his to carry. But was it a prize or a burden?

.   .   .

Although Nor Torin was fading into the distance behind them, Cam found his thoughts to be troubled. He had always known that he was destined to be a Paladin, but it hadn’t bothered him much before. Now he felt trapped, as if life were squeezing all the choices out and forcing him to follow a narrow path of someone else’s making.

“Cam?” Brock said, breaking the silence. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Cam glanced over and gave the smallest of nods.

“Something has been bothering you since we first arrived at Nor Torin. You’ve been even quieter than normal, and I sense that something’s wrong.” Brock turned to look him in the eye. “What is it?”

Cam walked in silence for a bit before responding, trying to find the words.

“I hoped that things would be better, that being away for a year would help.” He shook his head. “But it’s just the same as always.”

“Is it your brothers?” Brock asked. “They seem to pick on you a lot.”

“That’s part of it,” Cam replied. “They aren’t happy. They think they should be Paladins. They’re probably right, but their runes say otherwise.”

Brock nodded. “So, they’re jealous of you. They want to be in your shoes, but they’re stuck working at the docks instead.”

Cameron nodded.

Brock continued. “They pick on you to compensate for the feelings they’re hiding. They try to bring you down rather than support you.”

Cam nodded again.

After a silent moment, Brock spoke again. “There’s something else bothering you though, isn’t there?”

Cam shrugged.

“It has something to do with your father?” Brock asked.

Cam nodded.

“What is it? He’s clearly proud of you and he appears to support you.”

“Exactly. That’s the problem,” Cam replied.

Brock was confused. “Why?”

“He’s always been that way toward me. However, he doesn’t give my brothers the time of day.”

“He favors you then.” Brock nodded. “I expect that compounds their jealousy, and they take it out on you like it’s your fault.”

“To make matters worse, he gave me his sword.” Cam tapped on the hilt at his waist.

“I was wondering about the longsword. I assume it’s a nice weapon then?” Brock asked.

Cam sighed, explaining. “My father was in the Holy Army for fourteen years. He made a name for himself. Paladins don’t have to wait long to hear his name and stories of his heroics. They often refer to him as the model that new Paladins are to emulate. He won this sword in a duel in Sol Polis, against a man previously named the best swordsman in the world. It’s a famous weapon, hundreds of years old.”

After a moment of consideration, Brock asked, “Are you afraid that you won’t measure up to your father?”

Cam kept walking, his eyes downcast.

“Cam, you were the best fighter in the whole school in your first year. By the time you reach Master, you’ll surely be among the best ever,” Brock sounded earnest. “Regardless, I think you should focus on being yourself. Make your own name on your own terms. Don’t try to be your father. It seems like an empty pursuit to me. How will you ever be happy trying to be someone you’re not?”

Cam shrugged. He wanted to accept Brock’s advice, but his path felt so narrow. He didn’t know which scared him more: stumbling from the path or continuing down it to discover where it led.

CHAPTER 5

Despite a long day of travel, the scenery slid past Ashland as she struggled with her looming decision. She had put it aside on their way to Nor Torin, knowing they’d be passing this way on the return trip. About an hour before sunset, they neared the road to Vallerton, and she found herself forced to decide. Realizing that she didn’t know when she would come this way again, she summoned her resolve and broke the silence.

“Would it be alright if we took a little detour?”

Brock turned toward her. “What is it? You’ve seemed distracted all day.”

She nodded, not surprised. He knew her too well.

“There’s a farm I need to visit, about an hour south of here.” She replied.

Brock looked toward Cameron, who shrugged. “I think that would be okay.” He nodded to Ashland. “We can still reach Selbin mid-day tomorrow to meet Lars and Benny. We better get moving though if we want to make it before nightfall.”

She smiled, thankful for their understanding. Not even asking why, Brock and Cam had just accepted her request.

They turned south toward Vallerton, walking in silence. Over the next hour, the thick trees gradually gave way to wide fields surrounded by railed fencing. Herds of cattle feasted upon the long grass that grew there. Through the dim light of dusk, Ashland spotted a cluster of buildings across an open field. As they neared the complex, her anxiety steadily increased, twisting her insides. By the time they reached the driveway, her stomach was a knot.

As she walked toward the main building, a man’s voice called out.

“Can I help you?”

She turned toward the voice. A big man with a thick mustache and a wide-brimmed hat was leading a horse toward a brown barn.

“Yes.” Ashland replied as she angled toward the man. “I’m looking for a couple who works here. Their names are Landon and Ashley.”

The man nodded. “Yes, they’re working in the fields but should be back anytime.”

She smiled, excited and nervous at the same time. “Is there somewhere we can wait for them? It’s important that I speak with them.”

The man’s brow furrowed. He stood in silent consideration before responding.

“I suppose you could wait in the shed. It’s right behind the barn.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ashland said before leading the way around the barn.

The shed was a tiny dilapidated building, badly in need of repair. Receiving no answer to her knock on the door, she tested the handle and found it unlocked. Opening the door, she stepped into a shed that was smaller than her room at the Academy. The room seemed to shrink even further when Brock and Cameron entered. Their bodies crowded the meager open space not taken by the table, two benches, and bed that furnished the tiny building.

Not speaking, they silently observed the cramped surroundings. The small room was stuffy, leaving Ashland thankful that she wore light clothing and had her cloak stuffed in her travel pack.

Approaching footsteps directed her eyes to the door. A long anxious moment stretched as Ashland waited for it to open. The knob turned, and her heart caught in her throat when she saw two familiar faces enter the room.

“Oh, Ashland!” Her mother cried, embracing Ashland with a tight hug.

Her father wrapped his arms about both women in an embrace. The three shed tears in silence. After a minute, they separated and dried the moisture from their eyes.

“I’m so happy that you’re still alive.” Ashland said. “I feared that something had happened, that I wouldn’t get to see you.”

Ashley glanced down at Landon’s leg.

“What is it? Did something happen to your leg, father?” she asked.

He nodded. “A bull got me ‘bout a year back. Busted my knee good, and now it doesn’t work so well.” He shrugged. “I get by, though.”

Ashland took a breath, and grabbed her father’s hand. Closing her eyes, she found her center, her source of Order. Embracing the cool calmness, she extended herself to find the Order within him. Wrapped within the cool blue serenity was a pulsing red of wrongness, torn ligaments that had never healed emanating an angry energy. She grabbed ahold of his force of Order and coaxed it to heal the torn tissue. In her mind’s eye, she witnessed the tissue reforming, melding back together.

She opened her eyes as her father gasped for air and a shiver racked his body. With wide eyes, he puffed air to regain his breath. He looked at his leg in wonder, bending it to test it.

“That’s amazing.” He said, staring at the leg. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” His eyes met hers. “So, you did it? You’re a student at the Academy?”

She smiled. “Yes, Pa. I’ve been training there for two years now. In one more, I’ll be a Master Ecclesiast: a healer.”

Ashley gripped Ashland’s hands, her eyes showing tears. “My daughter, a healer in the Ministry.” Smiling, she wrapped her arms around Ashland again.

When her mother released her, Ashland dried her eyes. Feeling a bit self-conscious, she glanced toward Brock and Cam. They both had their eyes cast down, obviously feeling uncomfortable. She realized that she hadn’t introduced them.

“Mother, Father. This is my boyfriend, Brock,” she said, grabbing his hand to pull him closer.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Pym, Mrs. Pym.” Brock held his hand out.

Ashland’s mother pushed his outstretched hand aside embraced Brock with a hug.

“Pym?” Landon asked.

“Um…sorry Pa. Pym’s my last name at the school,” she shrugged.

Her father nodded, shaking Brock’s hand once he escaped Ashley’s embrace.

“And this is Cam, Brock’s roommate at the school.” Ashland said, completing her introductions.

“Please, sit.” Her mother said, gesturing to the small table.

Brock, Cameron, and Ashland squeezed onto the bench on one side of the table. Her mother and father sat on the other side.

“Are you hungry?” Ashley asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ashland and Brock laughed. Those were the first words they’d heard from Cam in hours.

.   .   .

Ashland pulled a rogue strand of hay from her shirt, remnants from a night of sleeping in the barn loft. While better than sleeping on the ground, the hay was itchy and made her sneeze. She turned and waved one last time. Leaving her parents again had been difficult, emotional.

“How long has it been?” Brock asked as she turned and caught up to him.

“What? How long?” she asked.

Brock nodded as he grabbed her hand. “Since you’ve seen them. Obviously, it’s been a long time.”

She nodded, speaking quietly. “I haven’t seen them since I was ten, when I left to train for the Academy.”

“Eight years?” Brock asked. When she nodded, she felt him give her hand a squeeze before he spoke again. “It must have been difficult.”

She nodded. “The first years were…particularly hard. Things got a little better when I got to the Academy. Then, you showed up last year, and it’s been way better ever since.”

She flashed him a smile. He smiled back, squeezing her hand again.

“I noticed that they’re Unchosen,” he said. “How did they save enough to help you, to get you in?”

She realized that Brock was being careful not to be too specific since Cam was there. Other than Tipper, nobody except Ashland knew that Brock was Unchosen and was marked with a fake rune. Besides Brock, only Ashland’s parents knew the truth about her.

Ashland walked in quiet for a while, staring at the road, searching for the right words.

“Remember the man we saw last night? The one with the horse?” she asked. Brock nodded before she continued. “He runs the ranch, working for a wealthy man who lives in Selbin. The man in Selbin…owns my parents.”

Brock’s brow furrowed. “Owns? What do you mean owns them?”

She sighed. “To get the gold required, they agreed to ten years of indentured servitude.”

Cam, who had been listening quietly, spoke. “Indentured what?”

“Servitude. It’s like selling yourself to become a slave until you pay off a debt.” Ashland said, feeling guilty when she thought of their sacrifice. “The landowner agreed to give my parents the gold if they agreed to work for him from dawn until dusk for ten years. In return, he agreed to give them food, water, and shelter. As you can tell, it’s the bare minimum needed to survive.”

Ashland knew that her parents had forfeited their own hopes and dreams so she could pursue hers, to give her a better life. Though she felt guilty about it, she couldn’t blame them. She wouldn’t want her child stuck in that life either. It’s why she refused to allow anything to come between her and success. She couldn’t let them down like that, not after what they had done to ensure her future.

CHAPTER 6

Benny gritted his teeth as he tightened the last nut. Now finished, he stood back to admire his work. The familiar thrill of having created something sunk in and a smile spread across his face. He couldn’t wait to show his father.

He grabbed the handles and rolled it out of the stable, across the yard, and straight to the ramp he had installed the previous week. Grunting, he pushed it up the ramp to the back door of the temple apartments. Once inside, he went directly to the second door and opened it.

His father looked up from his book and removed his reading spectacles. He sat upright in the chair, squinting his good eye at what Benny rolled in.

“What’s this?” His father asked.

“This is my latest invention,” Benny said. “It’ll make it easy for you to get around town.”

“Around town? You mean go out?” his father asked.

Benny sat on the sofa beside his father’s chair. “Yes. You need to get out and live life, Pa. I realize that your leg makes it difficult to get around, so I made this so for you.”

Benny pointed at his latest invention. After purchasing a chair identical to the one his father now sat on, he added two wagon wheels on a short rear axle and two smaller wheels on swivels to the front. It was a padded wooden chair on wheels.

His father stood, rising slowly. Grunting with each step of his fake leg, he crossed the room to inspect the contraption. When he got close, he rocked it back and forth to test the wheels. He shuffled into position and sat in the chair, causing it to roll backwards with the momentum.

“You can user the rails I added to the wheels to turn them.” Benny said, rising to stand near his father.

The man put his hands on the rails, causing the chair to roll as he tested them. Pushing on one wheel while holding the other still, he was able to make it spin. Benny’s father looked toward him, the good side of his face breaking into a grin.

“I like it, Benny.”

Benny’s heart soared as tears clouded his vision. He used his fingers to wipe moisture from his eyes.

“I’m glad you like it, Pa,” he said. “It’s what I’ve been working on since I got here.”

“I was wondering what you’ve been up to,” his father said. “I should’ve known it was another crazy invention.”

Benny nodded, smiling. “I’m sorry Pa, but I have to leave. I’m to meet my friends at Alfred’s for lunch before we leave.”

Benny’s father nodded. “Don’t worry about it, son. I was glad to see you, but you’ve got to make your own life now. Live it well.”

Benny bent to hug his father. When he stood, he wiped tears away before pushing his spectacles back in place.

“Take care, son. Be your own man, but be the best you can be.”

Benny nodded. “Thanks Pa. You take care too. Make sure you get out and live life. Don’t just stay cooped up in here.”

His father nodded. “It’s a deal.”

Benny smiled and turned toward the door. Grabbing the pack from the hook on the wall, he shot one last look back in the room, meeting his father’s good eye before pulling the door closed. He stopped outside the door, collecting himself before exiting the building.

As he crossed town, he thought about the visit. His father was right; he needed to stop allowing the past to affect him. It was time move on; time to live for the future.

The familiar sights he passed seemed happier, brighter than before. The old counting house was a nice place to work, not just the place where he’d earned enough to buy his father’s apartment. The people he passed smiled and waved. Rather than seeing the boy who had caused the death of his mother and best friend, he now felt that they just saw one of their own, returned to visit.

When Alfred’s Inn came into view, Benny found himself whistling a happy tune. The sun overhead made the day cheery while the cool breeze off the lake moderated the midday heat.

He entered the inn, scanning the place for familiar faces. There were many, mostly town-folk he’d seen countless times over the years. Among them, he found his friends and approached their table.

“Hi, guys. You made it,” Benny said with a grin.

“Hi, Benny,” Brock replied. “We were wondering if you were coming.”

Benny’s grin widened. “Of course I’m coming. I have to return to the Academy. My future awaits.”

CHAPTER 7

The trees parted to reveal buildings clustered along the road ahead. As he entered town, Brock could see brief glimpses of the lake between the buildings. The road came to an intersection, and the group turned north. A boy, just a few years younger than Brock, ran from glowlamp to glowlamp, activating them in the dim light of dusk. People completing the day’s business milled about on the streets of Fallbrandt.

Brock felt a spike of anticipation when a sign depicting a headless woman with her arms spread wide came into view. Though only a few weeks had passed since their last visit to The Quiet Woman, it felt much longer due to the miles they had traveled. He quickened his step as he approached the inn and led the others inside.

The dining room was busy, the tables filled with local women. Six men occupied one rogue table in a corner, making them the only men in the room other than the waiter and bartender. Brock’s eyes searched the room for an open table. When he found no other option, he made for the bar.

“Hi, James,” Brock said as he sat on a stool.

The bartender spun around, flashing the white smile of his perfect teeth. “Hi, Brock. Back from your trip to Nor Torin then?”

“Yep. We’re back, and we’re hungry. We haven’t missed dinner, have we?” Brock asked as Ashland grabbed the stool to his left.

James shook his head. “No. You’re just in time. Garret and Tipper should be bringing it out any minute.”

“Great. I’m starving,” Benny said as he grabbed the stool to Brock’s right. He thumbed toward Cameron. “And don’t even get this one started about food.”

As Cam took his seat, Lars laughed and clapped him on the back. “He’s got you again, DeSanus.”

Smiling at the group, James leaned on the bar. “I assume you’re all thirsty as well. Could you go for some wine, then?”

Brock nodded. “Yes please. Wine for everyone.”

James nodded and stepped away.

Brock took survey of the room. Dory was at her usual table, entertaining friends and patrons. Her eyes glanced toward Brock, showing instant recognition. She smiled, rising to her feet. The curvy bar owner weaved her way through the crowd, her long brown hair framing the smile on her handsome face.

“It’s good to see you, Brock,” she said as she leaned in for a hug.

She turned her attention to Ashland, giving her a warm hug. “I’m glad you’re back safe and sound, dear.”

“It’s good to be back, Dory,” Ashland replied.

“Will you be staying the night?” Dory asked.

Brock nodded. “We’ll need two rooms for the night. We leave tomorrow after breakfast.”

Dory smiled. “Wonderful. Please do stop by and say hi to the ladies after you’ve eaten.”

“I will,” Brock replied.

She glanced toward the kitchen. “Ah, I see Tipper and Garrett are bringing the food out.”

When he turned toward the bar, Brock found a full glass of red wine waiting. Looking toward the kitchen, he saw James emerge with a large tray of full plates. The bartender looped behind the bar and delivered a plate to each of them. The steaming meat pie smelled delicious.

The group ate in silence, eager to consume the hot meal after spending the past two nights eating trail rations. As they finished eating, Tipper slipped behind the bar to join James.

“Hi, Brock,” Tipper said, sporting a toothy grin.

“Hi, Tip. It’s good to see you,” Brock replied. “Are you working all night?”

Tipper nodded. “Yeah. Among other things, I’ll have to help clear the tables and then wash the dishes. I had a small break so I thought I’d come say hi.”

“Okay. I guess we’ll have to catch up in the morning, then. It won’t be a late night for us. We’re exhausted,” Brock said.

Tipper nodded, shifting his focus. “Hi, Ashland. Are you taking care of Brock? He’d likely kill himself if someone wasn’t watching out for him.”

She smiled. “Yes, Tipper. I’m sure he’d find a way to blow himself up if we weren’t around.”

“Wait a minute. I’m not that bad,” Brock said, laughing.

Tipper grinned as he grabbed their empty plates. “So you say, Brock.”

As Tipper spun to return to the kitchen, Cam reached out and grabbed his arm. The thin blonde boy looked at Cam, raising an eyebrow. “Do you need something, Cam?”

Cameron nodded. “I’m still hungry.”

“Ah ha!” Lars laughed, smacking Cam on the back as Cam grinned at Lars.

.   .   .

Brock put an arm around Ashland, pulling her close as they walked in the cool shade of the thick pines that lined the road.

“It was good to see Tipper and Libby again.” Ashland said to Brock.

“Yeah.” Brock agreed, reflecting on the conversation with the couple over breakfast. “They’ve certainly become close. I wouldn’t be surprised if they declared themselves married the next time we see them.”

“What do you mean, declared married?” Lars asked.

“They’re both Unchosen, Lars. The law won’t allow them to truly get married, at least not by the Ministry,” Ashland responded. “The most they can do is pledge themselves to each other and declare themselves husband and wife, though the Empire will never acknowledge it.”

“I don’t get it.” Lars looked confused. “I knew that Unchosen were treated differently but that doesn’t seem right.”

“It’s not right,” Brock agreed. “They have just as much right to live their lives as anyone else. Somehow, it needs to change.”

Benny looked toward Brock. “You’re right, Brock. Maybe when we’re Masters, we can do something to change how things work.”

Lars snorted. “You’re about as likely to change the seasons. The Empire’s been around a long time now. How can we hope to change things that have been the same for so long?”

“You never know, Lars,” Brock replied. “Eventually, it has to change. Maybe it’ll be in our lifetime.”

Ashland leaned into Brock, squeezing his hand. “I hope so.”

Brock smiled and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek

The morning suddenly became brighter, causing him to look ahead. The forest opened to reveal the Academy lawn stretching before them. Two miles long and nearly as wide, the lawn boasted a line of thick pines surrounding the grassy fields. Clumps of trees were scattered among the space, casting long shadows away from the morning sun that was peeking between two eastern peaks. A huge building loomed at the far end the field. Although the building had been Brock’s home for a year, he was still learning new things about it.

Consisting of many smaller buildings connected together with hallways, the Academy had a disjointed appearance. The long wings housing the students stretched outward, making the building seem as if it were reaching out to hug the lawn before it.

He glanced to the east, reflecting back on the Catapult Challenge while staring at the field where they had made the infamous launch. He turned his head to gaze at the tower that terminated the Girls’ Wing. The circular tower stood over two miles from the catapult launch point. Brock remained amazed that the catapult had launched a heavy metal ball that far, though he knew now that the siege engine had been charged with the Chaos rune of Power. His thoughts drifted, reflecting on how the fateful incident had led them to find the book on Chaos hidden in the walls of the damaged tower. If they hadn’t found the book, he’d have never learned what Chaos was or how to harness it. Without Chaos, he and Ashland would now be dead at the hands of Corbin Ringholdt.

He looked at her and a stream of joy bubbled inside when she smiled back. He was routinely amazed that he had somehow earned the attention of this amazing girl. The connection they had was something deep, something special. I love you. He sent to her. She looked at him again, smiling. I love you too, she replied in his head. Interesting. What else could he do with telepathy? He closed his eyes, pushing some very inappropriate thoughts toward Ashland.

Hearing her gasp, he opened his eyes to find her mouth and eyes open wide. She swatted him.

“You’re so bad, Brock Talenz,” she said, laughing.

He chuckled. Yes, this telepathy thing could be useful.

His eyes shifted back to their destination. Now a half-mile ahead, Brock saw another group of students climbing the stairs to the main hall before disappearing inside. Returning students were to arrive prior to sundown while new students were due the following morning. He expected students to be arriving throughout the day today.

When they entered the large building, they found two small lines leading to staffed tables. One table had a sign marked Apprentice and the other had one labeled Adept. Brock and the other boys stood in the apprentice line while Ashland joined the line with the other adept-level students.

After a few minutes, it was Brock’s turn to check in.

“Hi, Monica.” Brock said to the blonde girl sitting at the table.

She pushed her glasses up and smiled shyly. “Hi, Brock. Welcome back.”

She flipped through her papers, finding his name.

Monica looked back up at him. “Would you like your own room? We have fifteen singles remaining.”

Brock shrugged. “No. I’d rather keep my roommate from last year: Cameron DeSanus.” He thumbed toward Cam. “He’s right here, checking in with me.”

Cam smiled, nodding. Brock smiled back, knowing that Cameron preferred not to be alone. He turned back to Monica, who was making a notation.

She called out to the male student standing behind her, “Room 2024.”

“Actually, can we have a room at the end of the hall, by the lounge?” Brock asked.

She shrugged. “Sure. Make that room 2099.”

The boy ran off toward the large kart of keys. Moments later, he returned with two keys tied to cords. Brock grabbed the keys and handed one to Cam.

“Thanks, Monica. You’re the best,” Brock flashed a smile.

The girl smiled back. “Thank you, Brock.”

“Come on, Cam.” Brock said, waving his roommate along as they made their way to their new room on the second floor.

CHAPTER 8

Benny woke early, excited to begin the new school year. After dressing and taming his thick dark hair, he snuck out into the hallway, careful not to wake Parker. He crossed the hall and put his ear against the door. Hearing nothing inside the room, he decided that Brock and Cam were still asleep. Rather than waking anyone, Benny strolled down the hall to the stairs, descending to the main level. Since it was still too early for breakfast, he instead made his way to the main hall and stepped outside.

Stars above twinkled in the sky as the first inkling of the coming daylight began to lighten the eastern horizon. Birds tentatively chirped in surrounding trees, anticipating dawn’s breaking. The still air made the valley feel serene in the dimness of twilight.

Benny noticed someone on the lawn below. He had expected to be alone, but felt a twinge of excitement at the opportunity to speak with someone. Descending the stairs and crossing the lawn, he approached the person.

“Who’s there?” he heard a familiar voice cry from ahead.

“It’s Benny, Master Nindlerod. Benny Hedgewick.”

“Hedgewick? Oh, yes.” The man nodded as Benny came into view. “Welcome back, Mister Hedgewick.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m glad to be back.” Benny pointed at the tripod standing beside the man. “What’s with the telescope?”

“What? Oh, this?” Nindlerod patted the large device. “I’ve been using it to track the planet.”

“Planet? You mean in the sky?” Benny asked.

“Yes, it’s getting closer.” The Master Engineer nodded. “Come see for yourself.”

Benny leaned in to look through the lens. A large gray-tinted sphere popped into view, lines swirling upon its surface. He stepped back, pointing toward the brightest object in the early morning sky.

“Soon, it will be lost in the bright haze of the day sky.” The old Master said. “Come spring, it should reemerge in the evening sky and will appear as large to our eyes as it does now when peering through this telescope.”

Benny looked at the old man, his brow furrowing. “I’ve never heard of this planet. How can this be?”

Nindlerod shrugged. “I’m not sure, son. Perhaps it’s always been there, just moving on a different plane than our planet and rarely coming near ours. The only mention I’ve found about it comes from hundreds of years ago. I’m assuming that this is what they saw since the man who noted the object was never able to identify it.”

Benny looked up, finding the sky noticeably lighter than when he had first stepped outside. The song from the birds had increased, soon to reach a crescendo as they welcomed the day.

“Thanks, Master Nindlerod,” Benny said. “I’m going to get some breakfast before I head to Engineering orientation. Will you be there?”

The man looked back toward Benny. “What? No, not me. I am still working with the novices.” Nindlerod’s head shook as he spoke. “Master Shim will now be your instructor.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, then.” Benny turned and walked back toward the building as the light of dawn brightened the sky above him.

After grabbing some eggs, a biscuit, and some porridge, he sat at a table in the dining hall. Just when he had cleared his plate of food, Brock and Cam joined him with Ashland arriving soon after. Even Parker sat at the table since he was no longer bound to follow Corbin around. Finally, Lars showed. Of those in their group, he was the only boy who had opted to room alone. Things were different for the girls, who all had rooms to themselves since there were far fewer female students.

Their conversation revolved around questions of their new roles as apprentice students. Even Ashland, who had spent much of her time assisting Master Varius the previous year, was curious to see what her new role involved. She explained that Varius was now instructing the upper-level students, no longer requiring an assistant since there were far fewer apprentice and adept Ecclesiasts than there were novices.

The bell rang, and they went their separate ways.

Benny made his way to the Engineering wing, entering the classroom across the hall from the one he had spent so many hours in the year prior. Glancing around, he counted more than thirty other students in the room. He grabbed a seat at a workbench and waited for orientation to begin.

A minute later, the bell rang and a big man with over-sized features waddled into the room. His purple master’s cloak swished side-to-side as he walked to his desk. In an attempt to cover his balding crown, his brown hair was combed from one side to the other. Thick sausage-like fingers adjusted his small round spectacles as he addressed the class.

“Welcome, apprentice and adept Engineering students.” He spoke with a thick tongue, making it challenging to understand. “Today, you begin the next stage of your journey to Master Engineer.”

The man stepped closer to the class. “My name is Master Shim. I will be your primary instructor this year. In this room, we will focus on the advanced principles of physics, strength of materials, fluid dynamics, and scientific theory. You will meet here every other morning to cover those topics. On the mornings when you are not meeting here, you will be heading to the foundry for training with our skill experts, who will help you to perfect your skills in metal casting, metal forging, woodworking, glass blowing, and more. By year-end, the apprentices will be advanced in these skills and the adept students will be experts.”

He smiled, nodding. “Now, for the fun part. The afternoons will be yours to design and build anything you can envision. The inventions you create may well improve the welfare of the citizens of the Empire. We only ask that you give way to any novice-level instruction occurring in the foundry.”

Benny smiled at the thought of having so much free time to dream up new creations. With full access to the foundry resources, he could create anything. He just needed to decide which idea to tackle first.

CHAPTER 9

Cameron couldn’t take his eyes off of the red-haired girl. The tight white vest and tan breeches of her sparring outfit enhanced the long, lithe body underneath. He redirected his gaze toward Master Kardan, trying to concentrate on what the man was saying. The other twenty-nine apprentice Paladins stood in a line to Cam’s left and right, mirroring the adept students in the line across from them. Kardan paced between the lines as he spoke to the group. Cam found his eyes continuously shifting back to Tegan.

A trickle of sweat ran down Cameron’s brow, stinging when it entered his eye. His shirt was damp with perspiration, proof of the effort expended in the warmup exercise he had just finished.

“Okay!” Kardan shouted. “Grab your headgear and sparring weapons and find a partner. Let’s work some of the rust out of your system after a month lazing about.”

Cam and the other students scrambled to get their gear. With his wooden sparring sword in hand and helmet tucked under an arm, Cam hurried across the floor to where the adept Paladins had gathered. His eyes found the splash of bright red hair just before a helmet slid down to cover it. As he approached, he gathered his courage and spoke to the girl.

“Tegan?” he said, sounding unsure.

She turned toward him, her eyes looking him up and down. “Cameron. Are you here to break my leg again?” Her brow arched in question.

He recalled the last time he had faced her, defeating her on his way to becoming Arena Champion. He hadn’t meant to break her leg; it just happened in the flow of the duel.

Nervous, Cam stammered. “Um…I…No. I mean, I was hoping you would spar with me.”

She smiled. “I was just teasing. There is actually nobody I’d rather not spar with.”

Confused, Cam wasn’t sure what to say.

The devious smile slid off her face as she released a sigh. “However, if I want to get better, you’re my only choice.” She began walking away, speaking over her shoulder. “But I’m warning you that I hate to lose. I hate it.”

She stopped in an open area, not far from where he stood. He stared at her in confusion.

“Come on.” She waved her two wooden short swords about. “Let’s do this.”

CHAPTER 10

Brock nodded in response to the request. “I understand. I’ll do my best.”

Master Varius nodded, a gracious smile crossing her face. “Thank you, Brock.”

She raised her voice to address the small class. The twenty-six students included every apprentice and adept Ecclesiast at the school.

“The thirteen students who raised their hands will each be assigned healing duty with one of the other thirteen. This will pair one experienced healer with one student still attempting to develop the ability. Once Brock submits the schedule tomorrow, you are to follow it and attend the Paladin classes as healing support whenever scheduled. When that schedule conflicts with your daily session here, you must get notes from a student who attended class. Do not take healing duty as an excuse to fall behind.”

With her hands clasped behind her purple-cloaked back, the Master Ecclesiast strolled down the aisle dividing the room. Brock stared at her from behind, watching stray brown hairs dangle below the bun holding the majority of her hair in place.

“Healing will continue to be a major focus of your training throughout the year. However, I need to share something with you now that you are officially Ecclesiasts in training.”

Turning, her brown eyes were serious as she scanned the room. “The adept students in the room have already heard what I am about to say, but it bears repeating.” She continued talking as she walked toward the head of the classroom. “You’ve been introduced to the art of divining. In fact, I believe that each of you has exhibited skill in this area.”

“You also know that divining is the ability used during a Choosing ceremony where we determine a newborn’s potential and assign them a life vocation. In a few weeks, we will go over the details of the ceremony, training you how to perform the process.”

She stopped at the front of the room.

“But first, we will cover the most important part of the ceremony. It involves a new symbol, one for which you are to remain forever vigilant, for it is evil.”

A murmur of concern and disbelief ran through the room.

The Ecclesiast Master nodded. “Yes. I said evil. The rune I’m about to show you is nameless and must remain nameless. All you need to know is that you must always watch for this rune and when you recognize it, you are to halt the Choosing ceremony. The child must not be marked with a vocation rune but instead must go Unchosen.”

She stepped aside, grabbing a sheet hanging on the wall. With a flourish, she tore the sheet away to reveal a tapestry depicting a rune of a red starburst with four large points and four small points sewn into a solid black background. As Brock had expected, it was the symbol for Chaos.

Varius tapped on the tapestry. “Remember this symbol, for wherever you see it, evil follows. Among the most important missions of the Ministry is to prevent this evil from returning. We do so by seeking it within each child we divine, ensuring that those who have it remain Unchosen.” She stepped closer, hands clasped at her waist. “Do not kill them or do anything else so overt because it could cause panic and rebellion among the population.”

Her intense brown eyes scanned the room in a moment of grim silence.

As Varius spoke, internal conflict began to roil within Brock. He knew the truth of Chaos and the power it possessed. It was part of him and Ashland. He refused to believe that the ability was evil. He certainly wasn’t evil, and Ashland was among the best people he knew.

Yet the Ministry was training him to be someone who would ensure that children with this ability remain Unchosen. How could he force others to live that life? How could he place them in the same hopeless position that he and Ashland had fled?

The thought led Brock to another question. Did every Unchosen have the innate ability to channel Chaos?

CHAPTER 11

The whirling sound of Cam’s fluted blade slicing through the air filled his ears. He lunged with an arcing slash. Spinning, he chopped downward at another enemy. With a twist, he dodged an overhead strike and drove the sword tip through his foe. Another enemy stepped forward, and Cam led with a feint followed by a redirected attack based on the anticipated response of his attacker. With speed and precision, the well-balanced longsword shredded the surrounding enemies as their lifeless bodies littered the turf around him.

“You know you’re not supposed to have a real blade yet, right?”

Startled, Cam spun toward the voice.

“Careful, I wouldn’t want you to slice off any important parts,” Tegan said, a small smile tugging on the corner of her full lips. Her eyes flicked down to his bare torso.

“Um…sorry. You startled me. I thought I was alone,” Cam replied, trying to regain his composure. It wasn’t easy when he was around this girl. “How did you find me?”

He had intentionally gone into the woods to practice alone. The small glade in the heart of a copse of trees seemed an ideal location to brandish his sword in private. He had shed his shirt due to the warmth of the afternoon sun.

“Maybe you’re not the only one who knows about this spot,” she said, circling him as she spoke. “Then again, maybe I watched you walk out here.”

Cam frowned. Why would she do that?

“Let me see the blade.” She held out her hand.

He passed the blade to her, hilt first. She lifted the sword, testing its balance.

“Longswords aren’t my thing, but this is a beautiful weapon.” She examined the rune stamped into the fluted part of the blade, just above the hilt. “I bet it’s worth a fortune. Did you steal it?”

“What?” Cam’s brow furrowed. “No. My father gave it to me.”

She nodded. “I’ve heard of him. Cassius DeSanus. There are stories.”

Cam shrugged. “I’ve heard them.”

“I’m sure you have.” She eyed the blade again. “It’s a named blade, isn’t it?”

He nodded again. “Yes. Silencer.”

She nodded. “Is that why they called your father The Calm?”

Cam shrugged. Talking about his father always put him in a mood, making him withdraw.

Tegan flipped the sword, deftly catching the blade with one hand to hold the hilt toward Cameron. He reclaimed the sword, sliding it back into its scabbard.

“It must be difficult,” she said.

“What?”

She stepped closer. “Being your father’s son.”

Squinting, he stared into her intense green eyes.

She smiled. “If it helps, I can’t imagine anyone else even hoping to live up to that standard. You’re the one student who’d have a chance.”

“Um…thanks.”

Her hands suddenly thrust out, striking his bare chest and causing him to stumble back a step.

A grin stretched across her face. “Take the sword off so we can fight.”

“What?” Cam asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you afraid I might beat you?”

Flustered, Cameron stammered. “Well, no. It’s just...” He released a sigh. “Fine.”

He pulled the belt off, and tossed the sword into the long grass. When he looked up, she was in a ready stance. The corners of her lips turned up slightly, reflecting her confidence. He didn’t want to fight her, finding that his heart was pulling in another direction.

She leapt up and spun with a high kick. Cam ducked, watching her warily when she landed. She lunged toward him, throwing a punch that he easily dodged. With a tight spin, she flipped her hips and kicked backward, striking him in the stomach. Cam bent with the blow to better absorb it. She leapt again, her leg coming up fast toward his face. He twisted to avoid the strike, wrapping his arm under the leg to lift it high. Rather than falling on her back, Tegan pushed off Cam with her other leg and flipped backward to land on her feet.

Smiling, she paused a moment. Cam took a half-hearted swing at her smug grin. She dodged and grabbed his wrist. Twisting her body, she pulled hard on his arm so his body flipped over her back. He landed hard in the long grass with the girl on top of him. Straddling his mid-section, she pinned both of his wrists in the long grass. He stared up at her pretty face, not even trying to resist. With her eyes locked onto his, she drew closer.

When their lips met, his eyes drifted closed. The kiss was intense, passionate, and wonderful. He had often wondered what it was like to kiss a girl. There were times when he had wanted very badly to try it, but his shyness always won out. No other girl had intrigued him like Tegan. To kiss her seemed like a dream come to life.

As the kiss lingered, his body reacted. He could hear the pounding of his heart, sending desire coursing through his veins. When she lifted her head and their lips parted, they were both breathing heavily. Sporting a grin, she bit her lip and began to unlace her top. Cameron’s day had suddenly become very interesting.

CHAPTER 12

Brock opened the door to his room and found himself alone. Apparently, Cam was still out training somewhere. He set his pack on the bed and then bent to dig a thick book and some notes from the desk drawer. Exiting his room, he stepped into the entrance of the apprentice lounge. As he expected, he found Benny bent over a table while Parker and Lars were lounging on nearby sofas. There were perhaps a dozen other boys scattered about the room.

Walking to the rounded brick wall that housed the stairwell in the hub of the circular room, Brock pulled the hot kettle from under the caffe filter, finding it half-full. He grabbed an empty cup from the counter and filled it with the steaming liquid.

As he neared the table where Benny was working, he noticed Benny sketching on a large sheet of paper. Craning his neck over Benny’s shoulder, Brock tried to determine what he was drawing. It looked something like his Hedgewick Roller design from the previous spring but with a lot of extra parts. Benny was at it again, busy inventing some contraption that was sure to amaze others.

“Is this your latest creation?” Brock asked.

Benny’s head popped up and turned to face Brock. “Oh, hi Brock,” he said, smiling as his head bobbed. “Yes, it’s a new invention I’m working on.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what it does?” Brock asked.

Benny shook his head. “Nope. It’s a secret until its ready.”

“Don’t bother, Brock. You won’t get anything out of him.” Lars’ voice came from behind Brock. “We’ve already tried.”

Brock replied, “Hi Lars. Hi Parker. What are you guys up to?”

Parker held his book up for Brock to see. The title read Empire Civil Laws, 1447 Edition. “As you can see, I’m having too much fun for my own good,” Parker replied.

Lars chuckled. “Yeah, me too. I’m reading over equipment care and supply rules.” He smiled, his eyes lighting up. “Budakis asked me to be one of his assistants for the year. Apparently, the one he had arranged hasn’t returned since leaving for summer break.”

“That’s great, Lars,” Brock said, stepping closer to the sofa. “But we’re almost two weeks into the school year. I’m sure Budakis hasn’t been fond of being limited to one assistant.”

Lars chuckled again. “You’ve got that right. I spoke with Jasmine, his other assistant. She told me that he’s been ill tempered. She’s thankful about my coming in to help.”

Brock nodded. He knew well how irritated Budakis could be when things weren’t going as expected. Pulling a chair out at the far end of Benny’s table, he set his book, notes, and cup of caffe down before taking the seat. Pursing his lips, he blew air over the steaming cup before taking a sip. The bitter drink was hot, but thankfully didn’t burn his tongue. He preferred it with sweet milk, but that wasn’t an option in the lounge.

After pulling back the cloth cover that was wrapped about the thick book, Brock stared at it, his fingers tracing the gold rune embossed in the dark red cover, the rune that he now knew was forbidden. He slipped the cloth cover back on and flipped the book open to read the messages inscribed inside, messages he knew by heart. On the left was a message written in mysterious runes and foreign text. The opposing page contained a message he could easily read, one he had memorized. It had taken him days to determine that the two messages were identical. It still amazed him that someone scripted this message to him, knowing he would find it two hundred years later. The fact that Benny’s ancestor wrote the note seemed just as amazing. The man had apparently experienced a major prophetic vision, seeing something in the distant future. Brock and Benny were still trying to understand what was behind the prophecy. While it had become clear that learning to use Chaos was important, they had no idea why. Brock was doing his best, but it was slow going. At the same time, he remained careful not to let anyone outside of his small group of friends know about his abilities or about the existence of the book.

“Have you made any progress?” Benny asked after seeing Brock with the book, knowing quite well what was beneath the cloth sleeve.

“Yeah, but the translation still comes along slowly,” Brock replied, flipping through the volume until he reached his marked page. “You already know what we discovered about the rune for Light with the log in the woods. When we were staying with Cam in Nor Torin, we tested that same rune on safer things while indoors.”

Brock smiled, remembering one of those tests. “Ashland stayed in Cam’s room, which is in the third-floor attic of his parents’ house. One night, we tested the Light rune on a pillow shortly before going to bed. It floated up and wedged itself into the peak of the ceiling. Over an hour later, I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep and I heard Ashland cry out. I ran upstairs to find her sitting upright in bed with the pillow beside her. She said that had just drifted to sleep when the pillow fell, landing on her face and scaring her.”

Benny laughed.

“So, we know how long the effect lasts,” Brock explained. “The next chapter introduced a rune that behaves completely opposite. Heavy makes something many times heavier than normal. We tried it on a piece of driftwood near the docks of Nor Torin. Afterward, I couldn’t lift it or even move it.”

Benny nodded. “Interesting. I wonder how it works from a physics perspective. Does Chaos increase the gravitational effect of the object, or does it actually change the mass?”

Brock shrugged. “I have no idea. I just know it works.” Brock’s eyes lit up. “We found something else about Chaos. I had Ashland test the Heavy rune on a sheet of paper. Afterward, we could still lift it, but the paper felt as heavy as a large brick.” Brock smiled. “Just to see what would happen, I applied my own charge of Chaos to the same piece of paper.”

Benny’s eyebrows shot up, causing his spectacles to twitch. “What happened?”

Brock’s smile widened. “I knew you’d be interested. After I charged the sheet of paper, the table it was resting on crashed to the floor, its legs shattering.”

“Ooo. That is interesting. It sounds like the effects stack on one another.” Benny chewed on his lip, deep in thought. “I wonder if the second effect is added to the initial one or if it’s multiplied.”

Brock’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Well, if the first charge makes the paper a hundred times as heavy as normal, does the second charge make it two hundred times heavier, or does it make it 10,000 times heavier?”

Brock shrugged. “I don’t know, Benny.”

Benny was thinking hard now. “Were you able to determine if your use of Chaos differs in strength from Ashland’s?”

Brock shrugged again. “I’m not sure. It’s something we can try to figure out though.”

“Hi, guys.”

They looked up to see Cam grinning at them, his blonde hair disheveled.

“Hi, Cam,” Brock said. “You look like you just woke up or something. What happened?”

Cam’s grin widened. “Something wonderful.”

Brock recognized the look on Cam’s face. He knew the feeling. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

Cameron nodded, still smiling.

“Tegan?”

Cam nodded again, his grin somehow growing even wider.

.   .   .

“Really? Benny flipped that huge stone block all the way up there?” Ashland asked in disbelief.

“Yep. You should have seen how excited he was.” Brock grinned, remembering the day from early spring. “He launched three others, with fifteen minute breaks between each, before the effect began to fade.”

Brock pointed toward the pile of big stone blocks that Benny had fired from the quarry onto the adjacent hillside. He wondered if anyone had come out to the quarry since. If so, they were likely quite confused by the scene.

“What rune did you use?” She asked.

“Power,” he replied. “As you can expect, it’s quite useful and is one you definitely want to learn.”

Ashland slid closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Is that what we’re working on today?”

Brock smiled, “No. I’ve got something else in mind today.”

His hands gripped the small of her back as he leaned close for a kiss. When their lips parted, he stared into her enchanting blue eyes. A stray curl of brown hair dangled down on her forehead, partially obscuring the fake rune of Order that marked her. She absently flicked the hair aside as she stepped away.

“Well, I assume it involves something other than you having your way with me,” she said with a coy smile.

He laughed. “Yes. Although I could be persuaded…”

“Oh, no. Stay focused lover boy,” she said, laughing.

“Okay. I think I’ve figured out another rune, and I thought it would be good to test it.” Brock drew a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it to reveal a rune he had sketched the night prior. “This rune stands for Brittle. I think we can both guess what it does, but I needed somewhere to try it. A rock quarry seemed like a good place.”

Walking to the nearest stone block, he set the paper on top of it. The top of the stone reached Brock’s waist, and its length was nearly twice the height. He reached into a pocket, removing the metal bolt he had taken from the foundry. With it, he began scraping the rune into the surface of the stone. While Brock worked, Ashland watched intently until he had the symbol drawn to match the image on the paper.

He scooped up the paper and looked at Ashland.

She gave him a nod. “You first.”

Brock looked around to ensure they were still alone before taking a deep breath. Needing emotion, such as fear or anger, he focused on the fact that Unchosen had no rights or options for a better life. He then thought of how the Ministry refused to heal Unchosen, allowing those like his mother and aunt to die for no reason. Anger began to stir within. Holding tight to the anger, he also could sense the storm of Chaos all around. Drawing in as much of the frenetic energy as he could hold, he opened his eyes and poured the energy into the rune. It glowed bright red, pulsing briefly before fading. With the emotion and energy expelled, a cold wave of exhaustion washed over him.

He smiled at Ashland. “Would you do me the honor?”

Confusion showed in her eyes. “Do what?”

He smiled. “Someone has to hit it to see if it breaks.”

She glanced at the stone, shrugging. Stepping closer, she gave the stone a gentle kick with her boot. The block disintegrated, crumbling into a pile of fine sand that buried their feet as it slid outward.

Ashland giggled. “That’s amazing.”

Brock nodded. “This could be useful. Would you like to try?”

She nodded. “Definitely.”

CHAPTER 13

There was one Ecclesiastic skill that ran the risk of exposing Brock and Ashland as Unchosen. With their relationship now widely known, it surprised no one when Brock and Ashland repeatedly paired up for in-class divining practice. However, Brock worried that their lack of interacting with others might arouse suspicion.

When Master Varius declared that they were finished covering divining and the details of the Choosing ceremony, Brock felt relieved. A glance toward Ashland confirmed that she shared the feeling. What Varius had revealed during the past weeks left Brock feeling unsettled. While he was amazed at how easy it was to use Order to extract a rune from within a person’s head and imprint him or her with it to mark them for life, the rest of the process felt wrong. Varius seemed quite convincing when she explained why the Ministry dictated which rune each citizen was assigned, rather than imprinting them with whatever might be the strongest inherent trait. She preached that Ecclesiasts had an obligation to the Empire and its citizens and that controlling the number of individuals assigned to each profession balanced natural ability with the Empire’s need for certain jobs, making better lives for everyone.

Brock then remembered that he had been left Unchosen simply because of his ability to channel Chaos. Even if he had been given a rune, it would have been of the Ministry’s choosing rather than from his own desires. He wondered if people choosing their own path in life would lead to a better world. Having passion for a job surely had to yield better results than being forced into a career.

He blinked, trying to clear his thoughts to focus on what Varius was saying.

“However, while telepathy is a useful skill, it is also exceedingly rare,” she said. “In the few cases recorded, every instance involved two people who were very strong with Order and who had established a powerful emotional bond.”

The Ecclesiast Master paused, her eyes directed at Brock and Ashland.

“Interestingly, the limitations and potential applications of telepathy are still not fully known. While we’ve proven that distance has no impact, we don’t yet know the limits of what is possible to share over this connection. Is it just language, or can they share images or even feelings?” She paced before the class as she spoke. “We would very much like to work with another pair of individuals who have this ability. It would enable the Ministry to experiment and document any new findings.”

“Have any of you ever experienced anything like what I have described?” Again, Varius stared at Brock and Ashland.

A feeling of dread washed over Brock. He sent a mental message to Ashland. Don’t respond. Don’t even look at me. Let’s keep this private.

She responded. Agreed. I have a bad feeling about telling anyone.

Brock felt relieved but was careful not to show it. He stared back at Varius, his face void of expression. After a long moment, she continued with the lesson by detailing instances where telepathy had impacted events in the history of the Empire.

Distracted by an internal sense of foreboding, Brock half-listened to what she was saying. The feeling nagged at him until the bell rang.

“Do you want to grab lunch with me?” he asked Ashland as they walked out the door.

She smiled. “I’d love to, but I have to run back to my room first. Can you meet me at our table in a bit?”

Brock nodded. “Sounds good.”

She hurried ahead, soon swallowed by the mass of students in the central hallway. With time to burn as he waited for Ashland, Brock opted to lean against the wall and wait for the crowd to clear.

He found himself thinking about what Varius had said about telepathy. It had been quite useful to Brock and Ashland on a personal level, but he hadn’t thought about how it might be used to make the world better. There were times when instant communication across great distances would be useful and might even save lives. However, the very thought of being separated from Ashland made his heart ache.

Realizing that the hallway was now empty, Brock began his walk toward the dining hall. He noticed Master Pretencia heading his direction from the Hierarchist Wing. Their gazes locked, and Brock could see hatred burning in the man’s eyes.

“Mister Talenz.” Pretencia said, forcing Brock to stop and acknowledge him.

“Hello, Master Pretencia.” Brock said, trying to sound friendly.

“I’ve been watching you, Talenz. I know in my heart that you are a murderer and a fraud.” The man came to a stop just a few feet away.

Brock didn’t know how to respond. “What do you mean, sir?”

“You murdered Corbin Ringholdt.”

“Sir, you must be aware that Headmaster Vandermark found me innocent. It was proven that Corbin was in the wrong, and I was merely defending Ashland and myself,” Brock explained.

The Master Hierarchist continued as if Brock hadn’t said a word. “When I look at you, I see someone who does not belong. You skirted the rules, bending them to suit your needs. Mark my words, I will find a way to expose you and see you expelled.”

Pretencia turned and walked away, leaving Brock alone. As he watched this man who despised him depart, Brock realized why he had felt a sense of dread.

CHAPTER 14

Cameron emerged from the changing room, unsure of what to expect. The past month had been that way, ever since his first interlude with Tegan. She was beautiful yet bold. Passionate and unpredictable. His stomach twisted in anxiety of what she might do next, yet his heart raced at the mere thought of her.

He stopped in the middle of the arena floor, dimly lit by the late-day sun coming through the glass panels in the ceiling high above. He glanced toward the stands, nodding to Brock and Ashland. Tegan had asked him to be sure to have a healer present. He had found two. The three of them were alone within the building until the door from the girl’s changing room opened.

With her hair tied back, Tegan had her sparring helmet under one arm and wooden sparring swords in the other. Cameron’s heart began to pound as he watched her long lithe legs stride confidently across the open floor. Rather than wearing the traditional sparring vest and trousers, she wore short brown leather shorts and a matching leather vest, leaving her flat mid-drift exposed. He thought she looked stunning.

She stopped just a few feet from him, flashing a devious smile. “Are you ready for this?”

Cam somehow pulled his focus from her body and mustered a response. “I don’t even know what this is.”

Tegan pulled her helmet down over her head. “This is about redemption, Cammy.” She showed a naughty smile, biting her lip. “I’ve had my way with you a number of times now, but not in the arena. Not for real. Losing to you in the championship last year still irks me. It’s time for a rematch.”

“You want to fight me here and now because of what happened last year?” he asked.

She smiled again, holding her short swords up. “Yes.”

Cam stared at her as he searched for a way out of her bizarre plan. Deciding she wouldn’t take no for an answer, he released a sigh and slid his helmet over his head.

“Okay. Let’s do this, then,” he raised his wooden longsword.

She attacked, spinning with her leading sword high and the following sword low. He slapped the high one away with his shield and blocked the other with his sword. Countering with a stab at her mid-section, he only found air as she dodged to the side.

Now caught in the flow of the fight, Cam forgot that he was fighting the girl of his dreams. Swinging, blocking, dodging, and countering all came naturally in a rapid rhythm. Back and forth, they exchanged blow after blow with neither gaining an advantage. Tegan’s speed and agility made her a difficult target. Her ferocious fighting style required Cam to react rapidly with little opportunity to attack.

As the minutes wore on, Cam could feel the hot wetness of sweat building under the metal helmet. He remained poised, concentrating on the duel as he waited for her to make a mistake.

After blocking a swift series of strikes from Tegan, Cam swung his wooden sword low, trying to catch her off-guard or knock her off-balance. She jumped and flipped backward over the sword as it swept beneath her. When she landed, she thrust hard at his exposed side. Cam had anticipated the move, having seen her use it before. Her swords slashed in vain as he spun away with his shield arm outstretched. The shield clanged off her helmet with a glancing blow, causing her to stumble. In a moment of concern, Cam let his guard down and took a step toward her. She dipped low and slammed her sword under his shield arm and into his ribs. He felt them crack as air shot from his lungs and a grunt escaped his lips. Pulling his shield arm in tight to protect his wound, he stepped backward.

Smiling, Tegan lowered her swords. “Got you.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I think I broke some ribs.”

Cam turned to find Brock and Ashland descending the stairs from the stands. He walked across the floor to meet them.

“That was a pretty spectacular duel,” Brock said as he drew close.

“Yeah. It could have gone either way,” Ashland said. “I think you may have some broken ribs, Cam.”

Cam nodded, holding his side tenderly.

“What about you, Tegan?” Brock asked. “That shield hit to the helmet made quite a racket.”

Tegan yanked her helmet off, her wet red hair sticking to her face. “Just a bit of a headache.”

Ashland stepped close to Cam, putting her hand on his bare arm. A moment later, Cam’s body shook with a chill, and he gasped for air. Thankfully, the deep breaths no longer hurt.

“Thanks for the healing.” Cam said as she stepped away.

Brock held out an apple. “Sorry, but it’s all I’ve got on short notice.”

Cam grabbed it and took a big bite.

“Thank you two for coming to watch,” Tegan said. “Thanks for healing him, too. We’re done here now, so you can leave.”

Brock shrugged. “It was no problem. We’ll see you guys later.”

Grabbing Ashland’s hand as she waved goodbye, Brock led her toward the stairs. Cam continued to nibble at the apple, now half gone.

Tegan turned toward him, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. “Nice fight, Cammy. Thanks for agreeing to do it and for putting effort into it.”

He shrugged, continuing to eat.

“Well, I’m going to take a bath. I stink.” Tegan turned to walk away.

Cam finished off his apple as he stared at her backside strolling toward the changing room. The door to the arena sounded, echoing in the large space as Brock and Ashland departed, leaving Cam and Tegan alone. She stopped and turned back toward him.

“Aren’t you coming? Bathing alone is quite boring.” She spun and continued toward the baths.

Cam considered her words briefly before he followed along. He never knew what this amazing girl was going to do next.

CHAPTER 15

The foundry yard behind the school was quiet. As Brock crossed the wide gravel space between the foundry and the outbuilding, his eyes drank in the beautiful view. The high peaks above the valley now had a coat of white snow, glistening brightly in the afternoon sunlight. The dark green of the pines along the mountainside below gave way to the oranges, yellows, and reds of the leaf trees. Since it was just his second autumn at the Academy, the sight still amazed him. With winter almost upon them, many of the leaves had already abandoned their branches.

Rounding the corner of the outbuilding, he glanced up at the stall numbers he passed until he found his destination at the far end of the building. The doors to the stall were twice the width of the others. Whatever Benny was working on, Brock decided that it must be big. He knocked on the large doors, hearing Benny’s reply from inside.

“Just a minute.”

Brock waited outside, hearing shuffling noises inside as his friend unlocked the door. It swung open to reveal a smile stretched across a familiar face.

“You made it. Thanks for coming to help me test it, Brock.”

“I still don’t even know what it is, Benny.” Brock gestured toward the stall. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

“Oh, yeah. Come in.” Benny stepped aside to let Brock pass.

Brock scanned the length of Benny’s latest contraption. It looked like a larger version of the Hedgewick Roller but with pale sheets of animal hide pulled tight over long sections that stretched across the extra-wide stall. Two wooden rods ran to hinged panels at the rear of the thing. Pale, hollow, wooden poles framed the contraption, giving the appearance of a skeleton made of wood. Rather than having two large wagon wheels like the roller, this device had three much smaller wheels.

“It’s awesome, isn’t it?” Benny said, caressing the frame.

“It’s something,” Brock replied. “But I’m not sure what that something is.”

Benny held his arm out wide. “You are looking at the Hedgewick Flyer, the world’s very first flying machine.” The boy smiled, rocking his elbows side-to-side in excitement.

Brock mouthed the words flying machine as it began to sink in. The long skin-covered sections were wings. Two sets of large fan blades were mounted at the rear of the unit, each with a rod connecting to cam at the back. When Brock’s gaze fell on the two seats with foot-cranks near them, realization struck.

“Oh, no. You’re not getting me to fly in this thing with you,” Brock waved his hands in a crossing motion. “We’ll crash and be killed.”

“But I need you, Brock,” Benny pleaded. “From what I’ve calculated, we need two of us to get enough wind speed. Even then, it might not be enough.”

“Why me, Benny?” Brock exclaimed, waving his arms about. “Why can’t someone else help you with your crazy ideas?”

Benny stepped closer. “That’s easy, Brock. It comes down to weight. The more this thing weighs, the more lift and speed I need. I could only make the wings so big and still fit them in here and I don’t believe that we can go fast enough to compensate for more weight. I need someone who is light and strong. I need you.”

An internal struggle waged inside of Brock. He wanted to help his friend, but he didn’t want to die while doing it.

“Okay, let’s say I help you,” he said, pointing a finger in Benny’s face. “You have to make sure we stay low so we don’t plummet to our deaths.”

Benny nodded. “Done.”

“That’s not all, Benny,” Brock said. “I’m going to get Ashland so that she can heal our broken bodies when we crash.”

“If we crash, Brock. If,” Benny replied. “But, don’t worry. I already thought of that. I asked her to wait for us in front of the school. Cam and Parker should be out there with her. We just need to push the flyer out front to meet them.”

Well, at least Benny was aware of the risk and had thought about injury. He had spent many hours over the past six weeks building this thing, and he deserved to see if it worked. Resigned to the task ahead, Brock released a long sigh.

“Okay. What do you want me to do?”

.   .   .

A crowd had gathered, eager to see what would happen. Once word got out about Benny’s strange contraption, it had spread like wildfire, drawing most of the students from the school. Not occupied by classes since it was Seventh Day, a throng of students lined the sides of the road before the school. Brock waited nervously, seated in one of the wooden seats. He glanced toward Benny, who waited in the seat beside him. Benny sported a wide grin, his eyes alight with excitement.

“Remember that you can crank as fast as you want now,” Benny said. “When your feet stop, the pedals will stop, but the blades will keep spinning.”

Brock nodded. Benny was proud of the design improvements he had made since the Hedgewick Roller. In addition to altering his design so the rotating blades would spin freely even when the pedals stopped turning, he had made the gearing such that one rotation of the foot-crank generated numerous rotations of the fan blades. While it made the cranks harder to turn at first, it would help tremendously once they got going.

Redirecting his attention to the road leading to Fallbrandt, Brock observed the crowd of students lining the path before them. He could hear their excited chatter, hopeful to witness the first-ever flight of man. Peering past those students, nearly a mile away, he spotted Ashland. She was standing in the road, her distant form appearing tiny as she began waving her blue cloak in the air.

“That’s the signal,” Benny said. “Let’s go!”

Cam and Parker began pushing the flyer, its wheels squeaking as it rolled down the road. Brock began pumping his legs, straining as the pedals on the foot-crank spun faster and faster. Benny grunted as he mirrored Brock’s actions and the spinning fan blades behind them began making a whirling noise. The machine continuously increased its speed as it rolled downhill, soon outpacing the foot speed of the two boys who had been pushing.

Brock pumped his legs hard, moving them as fast as he could. The fans spinning behind him buzzed noisily. The vibration of the hard wheels on the gravel road caused Brock’s teeth to chatter as he bounced on the wooden seat. When it seemed they had reached top speed, Benny pushed upward on the two levers, tilting the panels at the rear edge of the wings.

Brock’s heart skipped a beat when he felt a floating sensation hit him. Lifting off the ground, the flyer tilted side-to-side. Benny kept adjusting the levers to steady the thing as it weaved left and right, coming dangerously close to the trees lining the roadway. The spectators yelled and cheered, jumping up and down as the flyer sped past them.

Benny shouted. “Keep cranking! We need more speed!”

Brock felt sweat beading on his forehead and quickly cooling in the fast moving air. The flyer rose higher, now two stories off the ground. It was frightening yet exhilarating. A grin broke on his face as the cheering students below them sped past.

Benny was puffing, his cranks slowing. The ground drew closer as their speed decreased. Trying to compensate, Brock peddled even harder. His thighs were on fire, and he was beginning to tire. He realized that he couldn’t keep this up much longer, and Benny was fading fast.

The flying machine dropped suddenly, the ground rushing toward them as they smashed into the road on two wheels. One wheel broke off, causing the flyer to turn sharply into the long grass of the lawn. The contraption caught, stopped fast, and launched both boys from their seats. Brock landed on his hands, rolling onto his back with the momentum. Black spots clouded his vision, and pain shot through his head when it struck the ground.

He lay on his back with his palm on his forehead, blinking as he tried to clear his vision. The sounds of yelling and screaming filtered through the fog that clogged his brain. Feeling groggy, he sat upright and looked toward the screaming. Benny lie a few strides from him, squirming on the ground as he cried in pain.

Ashland ran past Brock to kneel next to Benny.

She felt his shoulder, causing Benny to cry out. “It looks like you broke your collarbone, Benny,” She said. “I have to set it before it can be healed.” She turned toward Brock. “Can you help me?”

Brock nodded and rose to his feet. A crowd began to gather as they ran in to discover the fate of the fallen flyer and its crew.

“Grab his right hand.” Ashland said as she wrapped her arms around Benny’s torso. Brock complied, nodding when ready. “Now pull hard on his arm.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled hard. Benny’s scream drowned out the sound of bones scraping together, though Brock felt it through his grip on Benny’s arm. Benny’s eyes rolled back and his head fell limp.

Ashland laid him down gently. “I think he passed out from the pain.”

She put her hand on Benny’s forehead and closed her eyes. A moment later, his body shook and his eyes shot open. Benny sat up, gasping for air.

Ashland dug into her cloak pocket, removed a hard roll, and held it toward him.

“Here, Benny. This will help with the hunger,” she said.

“Thanks,” Benny replied, still breathing hard as he grabbed the roll. He bit into it and chewed vigorously.

Ashland stepped close to Brock and put her hands on his arms. “Are you okay?”

Brock nodded. “Yeah. I have a headache, but nothing’s broken.” He turned toward the remains of the flyer. A mob of students had clustered around the downed contraption. “Well, besides that.”

Ashland hugged his arm and pulled him closer. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was so scared. When I saw you guys crashing, I think my heart stopped for a moment.”

Brock nodded. “I was a bit scared, too.”

Benny climbed to his feet, pausing his chewing. “We did it though, Brock. We flew!” Excitement lit his eyes, now taking hold of him.

Brock snorted. “I guess.”

“We did. We must have flown at least a thousand feet.” Benny nodded as he reaffirmed his statement.

“Okay, so we flew. But we couldn’t keep the thing in the air for long. It’s too much work.” Brock pointed at the wrecked contraption. “Plus, landing really hurts.”

Benny stared at the flying machine, his eyes scanning the damaged contraption. “Good point. I’ve got to work on this. Help me wheel it back to the school.”

CHAPTER 16

A cheerful tune echoed in the empty hallway. Brock’s soft shadow repeatedly pivoted around him as he passed the periodic glowlamps mounted to the wall. It wasn’t often that he visited this area of the Academy after dark, especially when alone. He whistled in an attempt to make the eerily still halls seem more cheerful, more alive. Deciding it wasn’t helping, he stopped whistling, and silence filled the gaps between the rhythmic tapping of his boots on the tiled floor.

Reaching the door to his destination, he knocked softly. From inside, a familiar voice bid him to enter. He had no idea why Master Varius would send an urgent request to meet her at this hour. As he gripped the doorknob, he felt a ripple of dread wash over him. Was it just his imagination, driven by the eerie setting, or was it something more?

He took a breath to calm his nerves, opened the door, and slipped inside. He found Varius sitting at her desk beside a dim glowlamp, its nimbus creating an island of light within the dark classroom.

“Ah, Brock. Thank you for coming,” she said, rising to her feet.

Brock crossed the room to meet her. “Your note said it was urgent.”

She nodded. “Yes. You see, something very disturbing has come to my attention. It appears that the Academy has been a victim of deception.” She held a piece of paper up, waving it. “This is a letter, written by a Master who graduated from this very institution. This Master claims to have never heard of the student who is said to have his support in a writ of recommendation.”

She paused for a brief moment before continuing. “The man who wrote this message is from Port Choya. His name is Master Snod.”

The sense of dread that had been hovering over Brock became a shock of icy cold fear. Snod was the name Brock had used as a reference when applying the Academy, never dreaming that the man might be contacted regarding the subject.

A wrenching motion jerked his arm backward, pushing his hand between his shoulder blades as a thickly muscled arm wrapped about his neck. Brock winced at the pain in his shoulder, at the pressure of it lifting higher than it was meant to bend.

“Good. Hold him tight, Eldarro.” Varius smiled as the Academy Enforcer gripped Brock tightly. “Don’t move Brock. We will get to the bottom of this right now.”

Varius stepped close, placing her palm on Brock’s forehead as she closed her eyes. Brock held his breath in fear as he realized what she was doing, what she would find.

Her eyes flashed wide open as she recoiled in horror. A moment later, the horror turned to anger. Brock’s face snapped sideways from the force her slap. He blinked and worked his jaw, stinging with pain.

“How dare you? You filthy Unchosen! How dare you come into this righteous institution, into my own class, under this veil of deception?” Varius was panting in anger. “I believed in you. I stuck my neck out for you.”

She struck him again, causing his eyes to water. He squeezed them tight to blink away the tears. When his gaze returned to Varius, she had calmed.

“You could have been among the greatest Ecclesiasts of all time. Such a shame.” She shook her head. “But we cannot allow the taint of Chaos to threaten the beauty of Order or the welfare of the Empire. You’re the type of lying filth that proves why The Hand must forever exist.”

Her eyes shifted past Brock. “Eldarro, put him to sleep.”

The thick muscled arm around his neck tightened. His wrist was released as Eldarro’s other arm gripped his head. Brock struggled for air, pulling hard on the thick arm around his neck. Try as he might, he couldn’t break the enforcer’s strong grip. His vision narrowed, blackening as he flailed weakly. Thoughts of Ashland were his last before everything went dark.

.   .   .

Brock woke to darkness. His head pounded with a throbbing headache. He was lying on his side, and his shoulders were sore. Trying to move his arms, he found them shackled together behind his back. He rolled over and fell off the bed, hitting the floor hard and driving the breath from his lungs. Wincing in pain, he gasped for air. When his lungs refilled, he lifted his head to look at his surroundings. The soft light of a glowlamp emitted from the small window in the door to the room. Having been in the cell before, Brock recognized where he was and knew that the infirmary doubled as the Academy jail.

He was in trouble. They knew that he had entered the Academy under false pretenses. Worse, Varius had determined that his rune was fake, which was a penalty punishable by death. He needed to escape.

Rolling onto his stomach, he pulled his knees beneath him and stood. Sharp pain shot up his arms when he pulled hard on the iron shackles, trying to free them. The attempt left deep gouges, yielding nothing other than bloodied wrists. Without having his hands free to draw a rune, Chaos wasn’t going to be of use to him.

Closing his eyes, he took another approach. Ashland! He paused before trying again. Ashland! I need help!

He waited for a response, hopeful that she was awake. Her voice sounded within his head. Brock? What is it? What’s wrong?

A spark of hope flamed. It’s bad. Varius discovered that I’m Unchosen. Eldarro has me locked up in the infirmary. Hurry and get help to come free me.

He waited for her response. After a moment, he heard her voice again. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Let me know if anything changes.

Brock breathed a sigh of relief. Help was coming. He just hoped it would come soon enough.

.   .   .

Noises outside the door disturbed the silence. Excited by the thought of Ashland coming to free him, Brock crossed the small cell to peer through the window. His heart sank when he realized it was Eldarro and Varius.

“The carriage is ready, and the driver is on his way.” Eldarro said.

“Good,” she replied. “Let’s get him loaded and sent on his way before anyone wakes. I’ll let those at the mine know to expect him in a few days.”

He heard Eldarro respond. “That sounds good. I’ll pull the carriage up to the back door so he will be in it when the driver arrives.”

Footsteps sounded, followed by a door opening and closing.

A shadow fell over the window as Varius stepped close, looking in at Brock.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be out of there soon,” she said to him.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

“Somewhere you can’t cause trouble. You can still be an asset to the Empire but on our terms. The Hand will see to it.” She smiled.

Hearing her mention a mine made Brock think back to when he had rescued Tipper from the kidnapping attempt in Kantar. Minister Samson had mentioned a mine as well.

“I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you,” Varius said to him. As she spoke, Brock saw movement behind her. “Since you were able to fool me, there may be others. Once you’re gone, I’ll have to take a closer look at some other students, starting with your girlfr....”

A clang sounded, and the woman crumpled to the floor in mid-sentence. Cameron stood behind her, holding his father’s sword in one hand. Ashland stepped past him, looking in the window.

“Brock! We’ll get you out. Where are the keys?” she asked frantically.

Brock shouted through the glass. “Eldarro probably has them. He stepped out the back door and should be back any moment.”

Cam nodded and disappeared in the direction Eldarro had gone. Moments later, Brock heard Eldarro enter, followed by a brief scuffle. Not long after, Cam entered his line of vision and handed the keys to Ashland. After a few attempts, the lock clicked open. Brock stepped back as the door swung inward and Ashland darted in to wrap her arms around him.

“I was so scared. I’m glad you’re safe,” she said as she squeezed him.

“Um…can you please unlock my wrists? They’re killing me.” Brock replied through the curled hair covering his face.

She released him. “Sorry.”

Stepping behind him, she removed the metal shackles.

Brock rubbed at his raw wrists as he exited the small cell, stepping over the form of the unconscious Varius.

“Thanks, Cam. That was close,” Brock said.

Cam shrugged. “No problem.”

Brock smiled. Cam was as calm and understated as usual.

He looked down at Varius and realized that they needed to do something with her and Eldarro. Thinking that they needed to buy some time, inspiration struck and he grabbed the shackles from Ashland. He knelt and removed Varius’ purple cloak, handing it to Cam. He then pulled Varius’ hands behind her back, locking them into the shackles.

“Cam, please cut me a couple long strips from the cloak.” Brock then looked at Ashland. “Find another set of shackles for Eldarro.”

He glanced down at Varius lying on her side. Something she had said bothered him. Curious, he began parting the hair along the back of her neck. In the pale blue light of the glowlamp, he could just make out a dark mark hidden among the brown roots. The mark was in the shape of a hand.

“Here you go.” Cam handed Brock the two strips of cloth.

Brock lifted Varius’ head, wrapping the cloth around it so it gagged her open mouth. He tied it tight behind her head and then stood as Ashland approached with another set of shackles.

“Good. Let’s get them on Eldarro,” he said.

Two minutes later, they had Eldarro shackled and gagged just as they had done to Varius. Brock removed Eldarro’s purple cloak and handed it to Cameron.

“Put this on,” Brock said to Cam. He nodded when Cam donned the cloak. “Good. Now put the hood up and drag Eldarro outside to put him in the carriage.”

Cam shrugged, pulling the hood up and then reaching under the enforcer’s arms to drag him outside. Brock ran back, lifted Varius over his shoulder, and carried her to the door.

Cam opened the door and whispered. “The driver just arrived.”

Brock handed unconscious form of the Master Ecclesiast to his large roommate. “Good. When you get her in the carriage, tell the driver to be on his way. Try to sound like Eldarro.”

Cam nodded, letting the door close behind him.

Brock turned to Ashland, who stepped close to hug him. As he stood with his arm around her, he realized that everything had just changed. His stay at the Academy was over.

CHAPTER 17

Cameron glanced about the room, noting tired looks upon the familiar faces. Benny rubbed his weary eyes while Lars leaned back and yawned. The yawn became contagious as it passed on to Parker. Cam resisted the pull of an oncoming yawn, attempting to remain alert for whatever was about to come. He turned toward Brock and Ashland, who sat together atop the desk in their crowded room. The darkness beyond the window behind them showed that night lingered, though dawn would be breaking soon.

Brock cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming. Since you are my closest friends. I want you to know that I value your friendship and I would never intentionally deceive you. However, I thought that I had no other option.”

He glanced down and gathered himself. “I’ve been portraying myself under false pretenses.” He pointed at the Order rune on his forehead. “This isn’t real.”

Confusion clouded the faces in the room.

“What do you mean, Brock? I’m pretty sure I’m not imagining it,” Benny noted.

Brock sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that I am Unchosen. This rune is fake, created by an artist in Kantar.”

The room was quiet, nobody speaking for a long moment until Benny whistled. “That’s a pretty big secret you’ve been carrying, Brock.”

Brock nodded. “Trust me, I know.” He looked around the room. “If you’ve never lived as an Unchosen, it may be difficult to understand the empty existence we’re expected to accept. The Empire puts you on a path devoid of personal hopes or dreams. It’s almost impossible to find an honest means to earn a living. Unchosen often are forced to thievery, whoring, begging, and other unsavory or illegal means to earn the coin needed to survive.”

All eyes around the room were downcast, feeling uncomfortable.

Brock continued. “Rather than being stuck in a dead-end life with little hope, I paid to be marked with the rune of Order and found a way into the Academy. You see, my mother and aunt both died from a common disease. I came here to learn to heal so I could save the next person who was in need, even if that person was Unchosen.”

They all knew it was illegal to heal Unchosen. That particular law had always seemed odd to Cam, but now he found it ridiculous and cold-hearted.

“As we became friends, I wanted to tell you the truth, but I couldn’t find a way to do it without exposing you to the risk of repercussions should I get caught.” Brock let out another sigh. “I’m telling you now because I’ve realized that your mere association with me puts you at risk. Unfortunately, that risk is very real after what happened tonight.”

Brock dropped off the desk to stand. “Varius sent me a note earlier tonight, requesting that I meet her in her classroom. However, Eldarro was also there. He snuck behind me and held me so Varius could divine me. When she did, she discovered the truth.”

Cameron nodded, understanding. Now he knew what had happened and why Ashland had sought him out to help free Brock.

“Varius and Eldarro locked me up with a plan to send me away forever. Luckily, I was able to contact Ashland so she and Cam could come save me. Bound and gagged, Varius and Eldarro are now riding in the same carriage they had intended for me. I don’t know where they’re heading, but it will buy us some time. Best-case scenario, it buys us a few days. You see, Ashland and I must leave the Academy.”

Benny nodded. “You definitely need to leave, but does Ashland have to leave too?”

Ashland responded. “I belong with Brock. Where he goes, I go.” She smiled at Brock before continuing. “But there is more. Like Brock, I’m also Unchosen and am here under a false identity and a fake rune.”

Benny looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “And you two can both use Chaos.”

Brock nodded. “It’s something I determined a few months ago. The reason people go Unchosen is because the Ministry is weeding out those who can channel Chaos. When divining, if the symbol for Chaos is seen, the child is left Unchosen.”

Benny’s face lit up as he stood. “You mean that all those Unchosen out there might have the ability to channel Chaos?”

Brock shrugged. “I’m not sure, Benny, but that’s my guess.”

Benny whistled again as he plopped back onto the bed, shaking his head.

Brock looked about the room, meeting each of their eyes for a moment. “You are my close friends, so I wanted you to know the truth. I’m sorry that my mere existence here has put you at risk. Now that you know what’s at stake, I’m inviting you to come with us.”

Lars spoke. “Leave the Academy? Where would we go? What’s your plan, Brock?”

Brock sighed. “I’m not totally sure yet, Lars. At this point, survival is the first step. I’ll figure out what comes next after we’re away from here.”

“Are you sure it’s necessary to leave? What will happen if we stay?” Lars asked.

“I don’t know, Lars. Perhaps it won’t be an issue, and you’ll be allowed to continue on your path to becoming a Master Paladin.”

Benny spoke again. “If the Ministry has been hiding this secret for so long, they must feel strongly about it. I believe that they’ll do anything to keep it a secret. The risk to any of us who remain here is real.” Benny paused and looked about the room. “Regardless, I don’t want to be part of the Ministry any longer. I’ve always hated how they’ve treated Unchosen. Knowing that their motivation is simply to prevent the use of something as amazing and useful as Chaos, I want no part of them.” Benny stood and placed his hand on Brock’s shoulder. “I’ll follow you, Brock. You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don’t know where we’re going, but it’ll be better than remaining here.”

Brock smiled, gripping Benny’s shoulder.

Cam looked at his friends as he thought through these new revelations. If he left, he’d never be a Master Paladin. Would that be so bad? It was his father’s dream, forced upon him. He’d never felt like he controlled his own destiny. Perhaps it was time to be his own man.

Rising to his feet, he gripped Brock’s other shoulder. “I’m with you, Brock.”

Lars laughed. “Okay. I’m in. I never liked it here anyway.”

Parker nodded. “My father’s going to hate this. I love it.” He smiled. “I’m in.”

Brock nodded, still serious. “Thank you all, but we have a long road ahead. We need to pack up and leave before dawn.” Turning, he glanced out the window. The first inkling of pale light was showing over the mountains. He turned back to face the group. “That leaves us with maybe a half hour. Lars, do you have a key to the armory?

Lars nodded. “Yeah. All Paladin assistants get one.”

Brock nodded. “Good. You, Parker, and I are heading to the armory to get a few weapons. The rest of you, get your things packed and meet me outside the main entrance.”

.   .   .

Cam grabbed the heavy cloth-covered book and stuffed it into Brock’s pack. He glanced around the room one last time, now clear of their belongings. Shouldering his pack along with Brock’s, he stepped out into the corridor and locked the door. He rushed down the hallway, hoping he wouldn’t see anyone in fear of them spotting the longsword strapped to his waist.

After running down the stairs, he crossed the main hall without seeing a soul. Hurrying down the hallway, he raced to the stairs beyond the library and he ran up to the third floor. As he reached the top, someone came around the corner. He jumped back in reaction, coming to a fast stop.

“Cam! You startled me,” Ashland said as she held her hand to her chest. “Where are you going? We’re supposed to meet out front.”

Cam nodded, stepping around her. “I need to speak with someone. I’ll be right down.”

Ashland nodded knowingly. “Tegan.”

He flashed a quick smile before turning to rush down the hallway. Stopping at the eighth door on the right, he knocked softly and waited. When there was no response, he knocked harder.

Nervously looking down the hall, he jumped when the door flew open.

Tegan stood in a thin white shift, rubbing her eyes. Her red mane was a mess. She looked glorious.

“Why are you here so early, Cam?” she asked.

“Can I come in?” he asked, anxiously.

She stepped back, allowing him in and closing the door after he slipped by.

“I have to leave,” he said to her. He had never been much for words, finding it easier to get straight to the point. “I want you to come with me.”

Her brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Cam sighed. “I’m leaving the school.” His eyes locked with hers. “Not just me, but a few others as well. I was hoping you might come with me.”

She stared at him as if he were crazy. “You want me to leave the Academy halfway through my last year? I’ll be a Master in six months.”

Cam stepped close, taking her hands. “I know it’s a big decision. You see, I love you. I want to be with you, Tegan.”

She chuckled. “I like you, Cam. We have fun together. However, there’s no way I’m leaving the Academy to go gallivanting off with you to who-knows-where.”

Cam was silent. He had said it, told her that he loved her. She had laughed in response. He swallowed hard and stepped to the door, glancing at her one last time.

“Go back to bed, Tegan. Goodbye.”

Cameron pulled the door closed and released a sigh. Heartbroken, he stared at the floor until he remembered that the others were waiting. He hurried down the hall, now eager to leave the Academy far behind.

CHAPTER 18

Rays from the sun streamed between the peaks to the east to shine on the front of The Quiet Woman. A layer of frost glistened in the shady areas but was melted in the areas lit by direct sunlight. The frost crunched beneath Brock’s footsteps as he approached the inn. He opened the front door, stepping inside as the others followed.

Brock found the dining room empty and led his party to a table before making his way to the kitchen. As expected, Saul was busy preparing breakfast for the patrons who would soon arrive.

“Hi, Saul,” Brock said as he entered.

“Brock! Is good to see you,” the large man replied. “Been a long time since you been in Saul’s kitchen.”

“Thanks, Saul. I’m not alone, though. When Tipper and Libby join us, we’ll need food for eight. More if you expect other guests.”

The heavy-set cook nodded. “Saul has you covered, my friend. The food will be ready soon.”

Brock nodded, passing through the kitchen and out the back door. He crossed the frost-covered ground toward the apartment behind the stable. His heavy knock on the door echoed in the quiet yard.

Tipper’s tired voice came from inside. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Tip. Let me in,” Brock said through the door.

He waited until the door cracked open, a familiar eye peeking through the opening.

“Brock?” Tipper asked.

“Yes. Let me in. We need to talk,” Brock said seriously.

The door swung open, and Brock stepped inside. Libby was in the bed, the covers pulled up to her neck. Brock turned toward Tipper, who stood in his smallclothes.

“It’s good to see you guys,” Brock said with a smile before he became serious, remembering why he was here. “Tipper, I’m leaving the Academy and I think you and Libby better come with me.”

Tipper looked at Libby, who had lifted her head. He turned back toward Brock.

“What happened?”

Brock sighed. “Something big. I’ll explain while you two get dressed.” He turned away from them, facing the door as he began recounting the events of the prior evening.

.   .   .

Brock hugged Dory, thanking her for the food and water. He was going to miss her and the staff at the inn, and he told them he hoped to be back someday. Stepping outside to join the others, he squinted in the bright sunlight. When he glanced into the blue sky above, he noticed a large star shining despite the bright blue sky surrounding it.

“That’s odd,” he said, pointing at the sky. “You can’t usually see stars during the day.”

Looking up into the heavens, Benny responded, “It’s actually a planet. I ran into Nindlerod at the beginning of the school year, and he was looking at it through a telescope. Back then, you could see it just before dawn. He said it would continue drawing closer to us until we could see it during the day.”

Brock nodded as he reflected on his conversation with Nindlerod in mid-summer. The man had been tracking a planet, stating that it was drawing closer. It felt odd to be able to see it during the day though.

Turning toward the others, Brock surveyed the group. Prepared for the cool weather ahead, they were dressed in coats and plain travel cloaks, none opting to wear their blue student cloak. Cam’s longsword was hanging on his hip while the great sword that Lars had taken from the armory rested snugly within the baldric strapped to his back. Parker, with a longbow and full quiver, and Brock, with his metal-reinforced staff, were the only others who were armed.

“Is everyone ready?” Brock asked.

Nodding heads gave a silent reply. He gripped his staff in one hand while taking Ashland’s hand in the other and began walking east.

“Where are you going, Brock?” Tipper asked. “The roads out of town are that direction.” He pointed southwest.

Brock nodded. “I know, Tip. That’s why we’re going east instead. Anyone looking for us is likely to check either the road heading west toward Selbin or the one that runs south down to Sarville. Dory told me about an old trail that cuts east through the mountains. It sounds like the best way to avoid attention.”

They cut through town onto a narrow road skirting the north edge of the lake. Small waves lapped the rocky shore just south of the road while thick stands of trees stood to the north. After a mile, the road turned from the lake, narrowing as it cut a path through the trees. Birds tweeted cheerfully from the bare branches of the leaf trees, oblivious to the problems and struggles of man. The group walked in quiet, tired from having so little sleep. Conflicting emotions churned inside of Brock, torn between the loss of what might have been and the excitement of what may lie ahead.

Tipper caught up to Brock, breaking the silence. “So, this Chaos thing you told me about. You said that Libby and I might be able to do it too. Is Chaos what you used to heal my leg when I fell off the roof last winter?”

Brock smiled. “No, Tip. Healing comes from something called Order. It’s kind of the opposite of Chaos.”

“Okay,” Tipper replied. “What can Chaos do then?”

Brock snorted. “I’m still discovering that myself. All I can tell you is what I’ve seen it do so far.”

Tipper nodded. “That’s fine.”

Brock recalled that Tipper had already seen it in action. “Remember when we were trapped in the cave with the bacabra? Remember how I made the boulder come to life and attack the beast?”

Lars’ voice came from behind. “I saw a bacabra once. It was at sunset, near the shore of Lake Selbin. Luckily, I was across the bay with a good quarter mile of water between us. Even from there, the massive beast appeared fearsome.”

Tipper nodded. “It was fearsome alright. I thought we were dead until the big rock attacked it.” He addressed Brock. “That was Chaos?”

Brock nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s what it was. Another time that you’ve heard about was when we won the Academy Catapult Challenge. Remember how our catapult launched a heavy metal ball over two miles? That was caused by Chaos, though I wasn’t even aware of what I had done.”

Tipper’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’re saying that Chaos can somehow bring things to life and can make things fly further?”

Brock smiled. “Close. Chaos can be used in different ways, each use defined by the symbol applied when channeling Chaos. The symbol defines the effect it has. With the boulder, I somehow brought it to life or animated it. With the catapult, I used a symbol called Power. According to Benny, it increases the energy of whatever it’s used on, making it many times more powerful.”

Tipper nodded again. “I think I get it. But what happens later? You said the Academy Engineers couldn’t make the catapult work the same way.”

“Well, the effect lasts for a short time. From what Benny and I tested, the potency is noticeably diminished after an hour and seems completely gone within two hours,” Brock explained.

Tipper looked back at Libby, who had been listening in quiet. “So, you’ll teach Libby and me how to use it?”

Brock smiled. “Sure, Tipper. It might come in handy at some point to have more of us able to use it. After all, who knows what lies ahead?”

PART II

DARK HORIZONS

CHAPTER 19

Brock gazed out at the valley that had been his home for more than a year, now partially darkened by the shadows cast by the mountains to the west. From his high vantage point atop the mountain pass, the Academy appeared far smaller than normal. Surrounded by tall mountains on three sides, the open fields of the Academy lawn stretched south of the school. His gaze swept southward from the lawn and past the wooded forest, settling on the town hugging the banks of Lake Fallbrandt. The surface of the lake was still, its dark blue waters reflecting the fluffy white clouds passing overhead. The road they had taken along the lake narrowed as it entered the woods, becoming a winding hiking path that ran between two mountains.

He turned toward his companions, who had paused to rest upon the rocks and fallen trees strewn about the small clearing. Though they were thousands of feet above the valley floor, the saddle where they now rested appeared quite low compared to the two peaks it connected. Despite the late-afternoon sun, the air was crisp at this elevation. Brock knew that they were on the cusp of winter and he hoped to be somewhere well beyond the mountains before snowfall hit the area.

“We should get moving,” Brock announced. “I’d like to reach the bottom by sunset. It will be a bit warmer down there at night.”

“Thank Issal that we go down now,” Lars grumbled. “I’ve had enough of hiking uphill to last a while.”

Parker patted Lars on the shoulder. “That’s because you’re carrying the most weight.”

Lars’ brow furrowed. “What do you mean? My pack is about the same as yours.”

“I wasn’t talking about your pack.” Parker grinned.

Lars took a swipe at Parker, who dodged and scooted away.

Cam chuckled. “Enough messing around. Let’s get moving.”

The group shouldered their packs and gathered along the trail. With everyone ready, Brock led them down the winding path toward the valley floor. He didn’t know where the trail would lead them, but he hoped it wouldn’t involve any high rise in elevation.

They followed the narrow trail as it weaved through the wooded hillside, continuously heading downward. The shade beneath the forest canopy was cool enough that Brock never broke a sweat, despite the weight he carried and the energy he exerted with his fast pace.

After three hours of steady descent, the ground began to level. Pushed by the need to put more distance between them and the Academy, they pressed on for another hour until the dying light forced them to find a place to camp.

Brock stopped, turning back to face his trailing companions. “We are almost out of light. I know it’s been a long day, but we put some good distance between the Academy and us. Let’s look for a place to camp for the night.”

“Sounds good to me,” Benny remarked. “My feet are killing me.”

They resumed their trek, scanning the surrounding woods as they walked. Moments later, a grunting noise from a nearby thicket sounded and a wild boar burst from the brush, barreling toward Brock. He leapt to the side, desperately swinging his staff at the beast’s snout. The metal-plated staff connected, redirecting the boar’s path enough such that it missed Ashland. Cries and shouts sounded from the group, startled by the sudden attack.

“Everyone get back.” Brock shouted, stepping forward to get the boar’s attention.

The boar shook its head, snorting as it spun about for another attack. The beast was big, easily weighing twice as much as Brock. The dark brown spiked hair on its body shook as it trembled in rage. It snorted again, snot blowing out its stubbed nose and onto the thick, yellowed tusks. With a grunt, it rushed toward Brock. He pointed his staff at the beast, took two steps, and leapt into the air. Planting the staff in the ground, he vaulted over the boar as it ran past.

Brock landed and lifted his staff, ready for another pass. He glanced toward his friends, seeing Cam and Lars advancing with their swords drawn. Brock looked back toward the boar to find it snorting in anger as launched into another charge. A twang sounded, followed by a thud as an arrow buried into the boar’s thick neck. The boar crashed face-first onto the trail, forcing Brock to leap aside to avoid it as tumbled into the undergrowth.

Breathing heavily, Brock stared down at the still body of the animal. He looked up, seeing Parker with another arrow nocked and ready.

“Thanks, Parker. That was becoming a bit scary.” Brock wiped sweat from his brow.

Parker smiled as he slid the arrow back into his quiver. “No problem. It’s nice to be able to use one of these,” he held up his longbow, “for something besides target practice and competitions.”

Brock’s eyes scanned the dead boar. It was a big animal, with tusks nearly a foot long.

Lars stepped closer to examine the boar. “It’s a lot like the pigs on my pa’s farm.” He scratched his head in thought. “Though I’ve never seen any move this fast. Our pigs also don’t have weapons like that on their face.”

Cam leaned in, now interested. “Pig? Are you saying that we could cook this, and it’ll be like eating pig?”

Benny laughed. “It sounds like Cam is hungry again. This thing has got to be five hundred pounds. It might even be enough to fill Cam’s belly.”

Lars laughed, clapping Benny on the shoulder. “He’s got you again, Cam.”

.   .   .

The cooked boar was delicious, tasting much like pork. To have the luxury of such a meal while traveling in the wild was a treat. Everyone ate more than they should have, somehow trying to compensate for the trail rations that they were destined to eat in the coming days.

They relaxed in a small clearing surrounded by thick woods, less than a hundred feet from where Parker had shot the boar. Lars had skinned and dressed the animal right there on the trail. Shortly after Benny had a fire started, Cam and Lars walked into camp carrying two large sections of the animal. They skewered each section with a large branch, suspending them over the fire using branches lashed together into makeshift supports. As the boar was cooking, they prepared the camp for their brief stay.

Nightfall was soon upon them, and the fire became an island of light among the darkness of the surrounding woods. Exhausted from little sleep and a long day on the trail, they ate in silence. Though everyone consumed more than their fill, half of the meat they had cooked remained. Lars pulled a sheet of tanned hide from his pack and wrapped it around a section of the leftover meat, stating that it would help to preserve the meat so they could eat it the next day. He stuffed it into his pack and sat on a log to watch the fire with the others.

Scattered around the dancing flames, the group rested in silence. Ashland snuggled against Brock with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. Lars cleared his throat, breaking the peaceful moment.

“Brock? Where are we heading? Do you know?”

Brock was amazed at the way his friends looked to him for guidance, almost blindly following his lead. It was too much to expect them not to have these questions in their heads. Lars was merely the first to voice them.

Trying to sound confident, Brock responded, “The first thing to do is to get clear of the mountains. We’re now deep into autumn. The leaf trees are bare, and snow could hit any day now. We’re not equipped for that kind of weather, so we have to clear the mountains before winter hits.”

Pausing to construct his thoughts, Brock continued. “After that, we head south. Again, to avoid snow and cold weather. The climate to the south is warmer, especially at lower elevation, so that’s the best bet. That is, unless anyone else has a better idea.”

Brock’s gaze scanned the faces of the group, lit orange in the flickering firelight. His companions looked to one another, shrugging in response.

After a moment, Lars nodded. “Okay. Makes sense. But, then what?”

Brock sighed. “I don’t know, Lars. I know that I’m done with the Academy. I also know that I can’t change the past. For now, I’m just trying to look forward. I expect we’ll find a future out there somewhere. If you believe in me, I just ask that you give me a little time.”

Again, Lars nodded. “Fair enough.”

“In the meantime, maybe you all should ask yourself what it is you want to do.” Brock’s gaze swept from person-to-person. “What do you want from life?”

Nobody responded, the camp falling silent other than the crackling of the fire. The conversation was over and had gone far better than Brock had hoped.

Tipper spoke next. “Brock, when can Libby and I start learning about Chaos?” There was an eager edge to his voice.

Brock smiled, knowing that Tipper was enthusiastic. With both Tip and Benny in the group, they had enough enthusiasm to fill a stadium.

“If we’re able to stop a bit earlier tomorrow, we can work on it then. By tomorrow night, we should be beyond the reach of anyone who’s looking for us. From there, we can afford to slow our pace.”

Tipper nodded, putting his arm around Libby. “Sounds good to me.”

.   .   .

The next day was largely uneventful as they followed the trail along the valley floor, heading southeast. Shortly after noon, they came across a small bubbling creek and stopped to refill their water skins. At the creek, the trail turned south and continued in that direction until they stopped to make camp for the evening. Having consumed the boar meat during lunch, they had to resort to trail rations for dinner. Once finished with dinner, Brock and Ashland worked with Tipper and Libby as they attempted to channel Chaos. After two hours without success, they decided to join the others and get some sleep. Brock assured them that they would get it with more practice, although their possession of the ability was based purely on theory until proven otherwise.

Rising with the sun the next day, they ate a quick breakfast and resumed their journey. It wasn’t long before the elevation began to rise as the trail rose toward another saddle. They reached the top of the ridgeline just before noon, allowing the group to get a glimpse of what lay south and east of the line of peaks.

While the eastern slopes remained wooded, the forest was far less dense than the hills and valleys behind them. Where the ground leveled at the base of the mountains, the trees gave way to grassy plains. The sea of grass extended southward for miles until the plains met another line of distant mountains. When Brock looked east, the grassy fields extended for endless miles toward the far horizon.

To the north of the plains stood the line of mountains from which they were now emerging. The mountains extended along the western edge of the plains until they wrapped around the south edge of the plains, many miles away.

“How far do you think it goes?” Benny asked, looking out at the fields below.

“I have no idea, Benny,” Brock replied. “This must be the Tantarri Plains.”

Benny nodded. “The Wailing War happened down there, wherever the upper plains meet the lower plains.”

Brock thought about the war, trying to imagine the armies of man fighting the evil force of the Banished Horde. Chaos had been involved, somehow. Whatever happened, though Chaos had helped to win the war, the Ministry chose to bury its existence and hide it away forever. Why would they do that? he wondered.

Tipper stepped next to Brock and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s another new adventure, Brock. If we keep going like this, eventually we’ll see the whole world together.”

Brock grinned. Tipper had a way of making him feel better. “Could be, Tip. Could be.”

Cam’s voice rose up from behind the group. “Since we’re stopped anyway, can we eat now? I’m starving.”

CHAPTER 20

“You don’t understand, Tip. It won’t work unless you can generate a strong emotion,” Brock explained. “Chaos is out there, everywhere around you. But, for some reason, it can’t be accessed unless you’re filled with fear or anger.”

Tipper nodded. “Okay. However, saying it and doing it are totally different. I’m tired from walking all day. It’s hard to even think, and you want me to get all full of anger when I’m not even angry.”

Brock realized that Tipper was right. Needing to trigger emotion in Tipper, Brock set his mind to the task. As he contemplated the situation, the group waited in quiet. The peaceful swishing sound of the chest-high grass surrounding them reminded Brock of the ocean. In fact, the setting was too peaceful, making it even more difficult for Tipper to tap into emotion. Brock needed to do something drastic and unexpected.

“You’re right, Tipper. Let’s try something new.”

Brock withdrew his knife from his inside coat pocket. Grabbing Tipper’s hand, he pulled it toward him. Brock sliced across Tipper’s wrist, and blood began to spurt out.

“Ahh! What are you doing?” Tipper yelled, trying to stop the blood with his other hand.

Brock wiped his knife clean on the long grass before sliding it back into its sheath. “I’m motivating you, Tip. You’re about to bleed out. Unless you channel Chaos right now, you’re going to die.”

“Are you crazy?” Tipper screamed. “You’re going to let me die if I can’t make this work?”

Brock glanced toward Ashland, who watched calmly. However, Libby’s face looked pale, her eyes wide with fear.

Brock nodded. “Feel the fear, Tip. Use it and try again.”

Tipper swallowed hard and closed his eyes. After a few moments, his eyes flashed open and he stared at the small rock. In the dim light of dusk, it was easy to see the rune on the rock glow red as it charged, the glow pulsing before fading.

The rock began to tremble and small bits of rock blasted from it as it came to life, sprouting four tiny legs. The legs made cracking and grinding sounds as the stone began walking toward Tipper.

Brock smiled, looking at the girls. Ashland was smiling, excited at the possibilities of this new rune. Libby’s face had somehow become even whiter.

Libby spoke, her voice trembling. “What is it? What is that thing?”

Brock laughed. “It’s the same rock we’ve been staring at for the past twenty minutes. It’s now come to life like a little pet.” He pointed to it as the rock rubbed against Tipper’s boot. “See, it likes Tipper.” He looked at his friend. “Say hello to your little pet rock, Tip.”

Tipper gave a weak grin. “I did it. I really did it.” His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, disappearing into the long grass.

Brock ran over to him. “Shoot. I totally forgot he was bleeding.”

Kneeling beside Tipper, Brock closed his eyes and found his center. His mind searched within Tipper until he found a cluster of angry red symbols roiling about. He seized upon the Order within Tipper to smother and dissolve the symbols. When they dissipated, Tipper’s body shook, and he gasped for air. The boy’s eyes flashed open as he struggled to reclaim his breath. Brock smiled at the quick recovery, helping him to his feet.

“Sorry, Tip. I forgot about your wrist. You must have passed out from the blood loss.”

Tipper gave him a grin. “It’s okay, Brock. It worked. You got me to feel Chaos. As you described, it was everywhere all around me. I pulled it in until it I thought I’d explode and then I pushed it into the rune.” He looked down at the small stone, circling his feet. “And now the rock can move. I did it!”

Tipper turned toward Libby. “Okay. It’s your turn, Lib.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I don’t think so. I’m totally creeped out right now.”

Brock laughed. “Don’t worry about it. You can try tomorrow night. I’ll figure out something less creepy.”

Libby nodded. “And you’re not going to cut me either, right?”

Brock nodded. “Right. We’ll figure something else out for you. Come on, let’s join the others.”

Taking Ashland’s hand, he led them toward the nearby tree line. The orange light of the fire, just beyond the first layer of trees, was guiding beacon. They chose to set up camp in the trees rather than the open fields so they would be sheltered from the wind and have a safer place for a fire than in the long grass. Brock didn’t even want to think about what it would be like if those fields began to burn.

Brock glanced toward the lingering daylight behind the silhouette of the dark mountains to the west. That light would soon fade and stars would appear in the evening sky.

Reaching the camp, Brock walked past Lars, who was running a whetstone over the huge blade of his great sword. The blade sat across his lap as he honed the edge.

Benny was kneeling near the fire, cooking the jackaroo that Parker had shot earlier in the day. The first two birds bursting from the long grass had startled the group. Expecting others, Parker quickly had his bow out with an arrow nocked. When they came across this one, it tried to take flight but crashed to the ground seconds later, an arrow piercing its breast.

Parker and Cameron sat on a log across the fire from where Benny rotated the makeshift spit. As Brock stepped into the light, Benny looked up and greeted him.

“How did it go? Did they get anywhere tonight?”

Brock nodded. “Tipper was able to make it work. Now he knows what to do and just needs practice. Tomorrow, we’ll see if we can get Libby going.”

Tipper walked past Brock with Libby in tow. They both sat on the log next to Cam and Parker.

Tipper sniffed the air, commenting, “Mm mm. Smells good, Benny. When can we eat? I’m so hungry, I’m shaking.”

Benny leaned closer to the fire, examining the roasting jackaroo. “I think I can take it off the fire in a few minutes.”

Brock realized he hadn’t given Tipper anything to eat after healing him. “Sorry, Tip. I totally forgot how hungry you’d be.” He pulled a small bag filled of nuts from his pack and tossed it to Tipper. “Here. This will help.”

Tipper caught the bag, opening it feverishly to flip a scoop of nuts into his mouth.

A few minutes later, Benny declared that dinner was ready. As usual, Lars took the bird aside and began slicing sections off. Although the meat was a bit chewy, the bird was delicious. If they could continue to find fresh meat for dinners, their food supplies would last longer and traveling would prove to be far more bearable.

Lars suddenly yelped and jumped to his feet.

“Argh! What’s that?” He yelled, pointing at the ground.

In the orange firelight, Brock could just make out what had startled Lars. He laughed as Lars backed away from the animated rock, no bigger than his fist, as it shuffled past the massive boy.

As if in a trance, Benny walked over to the living stone, bending low to get a better view. “Would you look at that? Just look at it! It’s amazing!”

“He’s mine. I made him with Chaos,” Tipper said proudly.

Benny nodded as he watched the stone walk over the hot coals as it crossed the fire toward Tipper. “Interesting.”

Libby spoke again. “I still think it’s creepy.”

“It’s super creepy.” Lars said as he shivered with chills.

“If you want, I can make one for you, Lars,” Brock said with a smile.

The big guy shivered again. “No thanks.” Lars patted a large rock as he reclaimed his seat on it. “I prefer my rocks to just stay dead.”

“How do you know yours hasn’t been brought to life?” Ashland said with her brow raised.

Lars yelped again as he scrambled away. Everyone laughed.

CHAPTER 21

Like tiny ships sailing across an open sea of grass, the upper bodies of Brock and his companions bobbed above the long shoots as they journeyed southward. Carrying a biting chill, the blowing wind caused the expanse of grass to dance around them. A gray blanket of clouds that had the look of snow obscured the sun, making the wind feel even colder.

The wall of low mountains that formed the south horizon still appeared distant even though they had been walking for hours. Lacking any feeling of progress made Brock feel as if they were walking in circles though he knew better.

A surge of dread struck Brock, giving him a chill and sending his heart pounding. He stopped abruptly, causing Ashland to collide into his back.

“Why are you stopping?” Parker asked as he walked past.

“We need to turn around. Now.” Brock grabbed Parker’s shoulder and pulled him back.

As he reversed direction, four heads rose up from the long grass, each head shaved bald but for a single black topknot. Spinning, Brock realized that a small force surrounded them. Thirty warriors appeared from the long grass, some with swords drawn while others had nocked arrows pointed in their direction.

Cam and Lars quickly drew their swords, standing ready as Parker pulled an arrow from his quiver.

Brock shouted. “Stop! Nobody move.”

A man wearing a leather vest stepped before Brock, breaking apart from the others. A brown leather headband with a peak in the front held his long black hair in place. In addition to being the lone warrior with a full head of hair, he had body art covering his tanned face and arms. He stopped a few strides away, crossing his muscular arms as he glared at Brock in contempt.

“You Imperial swine are trespassing on Tantarri land.” He growled in a low voice. “You are under arrest. Surrender your weapons or you die.” His words were thick, with an odd accent.

Brock’s mind raced. With a dozen arrows pointed at him, he would never have enough time to channel Chaos even if he had a plan. If any of them made the wrong move, they’d be dead in seconds. Seeing no other option, he tossed his staff at the foot of the man who addressed them.

“What are you doing, Brock?” Lars asked.

“Look around, Lars. How many can we kill before we die?” Brock replied. “We don’t stand a chance”

Cam tossed his sword and Parker dropped his bow. Moments later, Lars sighed and followed suit.

The man put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. More Tantarri appeared from the tall grass and ran in toward them. Rough hands began searching his body, finding his knife sheath inside his coat pocket and tossing it into the growing pile of weapons. They grabbed his wrists, yanking them behind his back and tying them together. Hearing an approaching rumble, Brock looked to the east to find a herd of horses cresting a small rise a half-mile away.

With Brock and his friends tied, the Tantarri pushed them into a line. The herd of horses slowed as it approached, led by a bald Tantarri warrior mounted on a gray stallion. As the horses came to a halt, two Tantarri grabbed Brock and pushed him toward the horses. He glanced back, surprised to see feminine facial features on one of them. Like the others, her head was shaved other than a single black topknot at the back. Looking about, he noticed that many of their captors were women. She shoved him roughly, directing him toward the horses.

After leading him toward a brown mare with a flowing black mane, two sets of hands hoisted him onto the animal, draping him stomach-down over its back while they tied him to the saddle. From his upside-down viewpoint, he craned his neck around to find two Tantarri strapping Ashland to the saddle of a piebald mare. When their eyes met, Brock sent thoughts Ashland’s way. We will be fine. We’ll figure something out. She smiled, the look becoming a wince as her horse burst into a trot.

Brock’s horse followed the others, his stomach bouncing uncomfortably against the saddle as the grass shoots swatted against his dangling head. The world was upside-down, shifting in a rapid blur. With blood running to his head, the pressure soon evolved into a headache, a headache that was among the least of his worries.

CHAPTER 22

Brock’s ribs were on fire and he felt as if he had been bouncing on the horse for days although barely an hour had passed. With the sun obscured by the gray clouds, it was difficult to know the exact time, but it was definitely still daytime. The ground below his head eventually changed from long grass to green scrub dotting red-tinted dirt. The rhythmic clopping of hooves somehow became soothing, numbing his mind. He’d have fallen asleep if he hadn’t been so uncomfortable.

The ground tilted and gravity began pulling him sideways as the horse headed uphill. Craning his neck, he could now see a drop-off just a couple feet beyond. They appeared to be climbing along the wall of a narrow canyon, the drop to the canyon floor below steadily increasing to an alarming depth. Anxiety twisted his stomach as his mind conjured unwanted images of the horse making a misstep and tumbling over the edge.

When the trail grew wider, Brock craned his neck about and found a rock wall separating them from the canyon. The horses turned away from the canyon and he caught a brief glimpse of a stone city built into the side of the mountain. A moment later, the horses entered a cave, and a rock wall obscured the view.

His horse slowed, coming to a stop. Still draped over the animal, Brock waited as the other horses settled into place. Rough hands untied the bonds that strapped him to the saddle. Those same hands grabbed him under his arms and yanked him from the horse. He was careful to lift his legs when they dropped off the beast, extending them once he was vertical. With his feet beneath him, Brock hunched over with cramped and sore stomach muscles.

He looked around, seeing Benny, Ashland, and Parker standing with Tantarri holding them. Two warriors pulled Tipper and Libby from their horses, pushing them toward the other captives. Due to their size, it took Lars and Cam longer to be pulled off of their animals. With everyone dismounted, the Tantarri guards herded them into a narrow tunnel.

Elaborate drawings decorated the tunnel walls, which stood three strides apart. The scenes appeared to tell a story, but they passed too rapidly for Brock to grasp the context. After rounding a bend, the walls opened to reveal a wide gallery. Torches along the walls cast orange flickering light upon the uneven ceiling. Logs burning in a large stone brazier lit the heart of the cavern, spreading a glow to the surrounding area. The captors ushered them into the heart of the cavern before jerking them to a stop. The man who had led their capture crossed the cavern and disappeared into a torch lit tunnel cut into the far wall.

Brock examined their surroundings as he waited in silence. The cavern appeared natural, the torchlight getting lost in the dark recesses of the ceiling two stories above. Though more than thirty people stood in the cavern, it could hold four times that number.

Turning toward his companions, Brock found fear reflecting in their eyes. He felt the same way. His mind raced, grasping for a way out of this mess. Half of the Tantarri warriors held him and his friends in place while the others stood back, ready with bows and long curved swords in their hands. The odds of surviving any sort of fight seemed extremely slim. They had no choice but to see how this played out.

An older man and the warrior who had led their capture soon emerged from the tunnel, followed by a female Tantarri warrior. Judging the lead man’s build and gait, Brock decided that he must have been a fearsome warrior in his youth. Even now, Brock would not want to challenge the man. Similar to the younger man standing to his side, body art covered the older man’s tanned skin. He wore a leather vest and leather pants like the others, but with the addition of colored strips of cloth hanging down his back like a cape. A jewel-encrusted leather headband held his gray-peppered black hair back. The red and blue gems on the headband formed a symbol that looked vaguely familiar to Brock.

The three stopped a stride before Brock. Brock glanced at the Tantarri woman to the leader’s side, seeing that she also had a pointed leather band holding her long black hair in place. Black leather, cut to fit her form left her arms, mid-drift, and thighs exposed. The hilt of the sword strapped to her back stuck up over one shoulder and a matching hilt jutted up from the dagger strapped to her hip. With dark eyes sporting a hawk-like gaze, she was beautiful and fearsome at the same time.

The man who had led their capture spoke, his voice echoing in the large cavern.

“Father, these Issalians were caught trespassing on Tantarri land. We found them near the wood along the upper plateau.”

The older man nodded, responding with the same odd accent. “Very good, Juran. Were they armed?”

Hearing movement, Brock turned to see four Tantarri step forward and toss the confiscated weapons into a pile. Brock’s staff bounced and rolled across the cave floor before coming to a stop beneath the Tantarri leader’s foot.

The man stared at the small pile of weapons. “Armed and on Tantarri land. They could be spies or perhaps assassins. Regardless, the punishment is death.”

Brock couldn’t hold back any longer. “Sir. We mean you no harm. We didn’t even know we were on your la…”

A explosion of pain struck Brock’s face, his head turning sharply from the force of the slap. Tears from his watering eyes made the room a blur. He blinked to clear them.

Juran spoke angrily, his face close to Brock’s, hatred burning in his dark eyes. “You are not to speak, imperial swine. You have no right to address the head clansman. When the Ministry declared war on the Tantarri, you forfeited any rights to negotiate.”

The head clansman put his hand on the man’s arm. “Peace, Juran. We will not resort to murder. We are not the Ministry. We will lock them away for the night, and they will be executed in the morning, per Tantarri law.” The man addressed Brock. “You see, even if what you say is true and you had no ill intent, we are at war with your Empire. According to the rules of war, as the Ministry has so clearly established, we will execute those who trespass on our lands. Do not blame us young man. Your Ministry is to blame. Their treachery has left us no choice.” He then gestured with a finger. “Put them in the pit. They die at dawn.”

The head clansman reversed direction, the long colored strips of cloth flowing behind him as he retreated into the tunnel. Juran gave Brock one last hateful glare before following his father. The girl eyed the group for a brief moment before turning to follow the others.

The two Tantarri guards who were holding Brock spun him around and dragged him toward a tunnel entrance cut into the side of the cavern. He noticed their packs piled along a wall in the cavern just before he entered the tunnel.

The corridor curved in a wide arc before opening to another gallery, lit by a single torch that made shadows dance on the walls and the high ceiling. A narrow ledge encircled a dark hole in the floor, the unknown depths of the pit consuming any light attempting to enter.

Two Tantarri began to uncoil a thick rope, lowering it into the dark opening. Once unwound, they stepped back from the edge.

“Climb down.” A Tantarri commanded as another cut the bonds from Brock’s wrists.

Brock stepped to the edge, grabbed the rope, and began lowering himself into the hole. He glanced down again to find nothing but darkness below. His heart raced when he thought of falling some incredible unknown distance. He tried to calm himself by shifting his focus, concentrating on the placement of each foot as he descended into the black abyss.

CHAPTER 23

As Lars reached the pit floor, Cameron and Brock helped him get his footing. The moment his hands released the rope, it began to rise. Looking up at the distant pit opening, Brock could see a set of hands pulling it up. The pit rim had to be four stories above him. When the rope cleared the rim, the hands disappeared and it became quiet.

Lowering his eyes, Brock peered into the darkness, seeking the faces of his companions. The indirect light of the single torch above was just enough for him to perceive silhouettes standing about him. Lars spoke, breaking the silence.

“You’ve got to get us out of here, Brock.” Lars sounded angry, desperate. “We’re in here because of you. I can’t stay in this tiny dark hole.” His voice rose to a shout. “You have to get me out!”

Tipper stepped between Lars and Brock. “Relax, Lars. Brock has a plan. He always has a plan.”

Brock had begun working through a plan the moment he reached the bottom. The outline of an idea was forming, but he needed a little more time.

“We can’t do anything yet,” Brock said, trying to sound calm. “It’s around dinner time now. If we wait just a few hours, it’ll be past nightfall, and they’ll be asleep. That’s when we get out of here.” He reached out, placing his hand on Lars’ thick shoulder. “Until then, try to relax.”

Lars remained still, glancing about the pit in silence. A long moment stretched as Brock waited for his reaction.

“Okay. We wait for a couple hours,” Lars grumbled and turned away from Brock.

Tipper patted Brock’s shoulder, stepping aside as Ashland stepped in and wrapped her arm around his waist. I’m scared. She said in his head.

He closed his eyes and sent his thoughts back to her. I’m scared too. It looks like the Ministry has created an enemy here and that makes us guilty by association. Words aren’t going to work, so we need to escape. We have nothing to lose in trying since they plan to kill us anyway.

Do you really have a plan? she asked.

I’m working on it, he replied.

.   .   .

Brock rose to his feet, wiping the dirt off the seat of his trousers. “Okay everyone. Wake up.”

The group began to stir. Brock wasn’t sure if anyone had actually fallen asleep. He certainly couldn’t sleep, not with their lives in the balance. Time had passed at an achingly slow pace while Brock watched the pit opening, high above him. Having seen nothing but the flickering torch dancing on the uneven cave roof, it seemed unlikely that there were any Tantarri waiting at the top.

Brock turned to focus on his friends, searching for their faces in the darkness. “After a much consideration, I think I’ve devised a way out of here.”

After a pause, he revealed his plan. “Ashland is going to use Chaos on me, so I can float up to the cave above. Once there, I’ll lower the rope so you guys can climb out.”

“Is that safe?” Ashland asked.

Hearing the concern in her voice, he squeezed her hand to reassure her. “I used Chaos on myself once and it worked.”

“But you were also rendered unconscious for days,” she noted.

Brock nodded, though he expected she couldn’t see it. “True. However, something else may have caused it. Regardless, it’s a risk we have to take. Lars was right when he said that I’m the one who got us into this mess. I’m the one who has to get us out.”

She was quiet again. “What am I going to draw with? How am I going to see the rune in this dark pit?”

Brock smiled, digging into his inside coat pocket. He pulled a small tube out and began shaking it. A soft blue light bloomed from the glowstick, illuminating the pit.

“You had light the whole time we’ve been down here?” Lars growled.

Brock nodded. “Yes, but I couldn’t risk using it. I didn’t want them to take it away. The fact they didn’t take it when they searched me means that they don’t know what it is or they just didn’t find it.” Brock smiled. “Regardless, this little prize is going to save us.”

He lifted the glowstick high and smashed it into the rocky floor of the pit. The thick glass broke, sending a splash of glowing blue powder onto the ground. Brock lifted his shirt, and pointed at his torso as he addressed Ashland.

“Draw the rune on my stomach using the glowstone powder.”

She nodded, bending to grab the intact end of the glass tube. After pouring the glowing powder from the tube into her palm, she dipped her index finger into it and began tracing the symbol onto Brock’s skin.

After a minute, she stood upright. “I think that’s it. How does it look?”

Brock examined the rune. “It looks good, but it’s missing a line right here.”

“Oh, right.” Ashland bent to add the mark. “Okay. It’s ready.”

Handing the remains of the tube to Benny, her eyes met Brock’s.

He nodded to her. “Do it. If we don’t escape, we die in the morning. The fear of that thought should be enough.”

She nodded, closing her eyes. Brock felt nervous, his heart racing as he prepared for what was coming. After a minute, her eyes flashed open, her iris’ glowed red in the dim surroundings. Having never noticed it before, Brock leaned closer to find crimson energy dancing about her pupils as if tiny thunderstorms raged within. He glanced down at the rune as it began to glow, pulsing before the glow faded. Looking back up at Ashland, he found her eyes returned to normal.

His body began to tingle, his muscles twitching for a moment. His stomach flipped, feeling queasy as he began to float. After rising upward a foot, he sank to lightly tap down onto the cave floor.

“I didn’t float all the way up.” Brock noted, confused.

Benny responded. “Your clothes might be too heavy. Take your coat and boots off.”

Brock decided that Benny was correct as usual. Holding onto Ashland as he pulled his boots off, Brock felt himself beginning to rise. He let go and began removing his coat as he slowly drifted upward. After dropping the coat, he began rising faster.

The walls of the cave slid past as he rose higher and higher. Brock swiped his hand at the wall to help him rotate until he was facing upward. Emerging from the mouth of the pit, he floated up toward the high ceiling. He extended his arms, bracing himself as he collided into the uneven rock dome. It felt odd to rest against the ceiling as if gravity had been inverted. Spinning around, he spotted the rope in a coiled pile near the entrance to the tunnel below. He squatted, bending his legs with his feet against the rock ceiling. Extending them in a burst, he shot downward toward the rope.

Anxiety twisted in his gut as he plummeted far faster than anticipated. Starting at a height of over thirty feet, a headfirst drop could be lethal. The knot in his stomach began to loosen as his speed slowed. By the time he reached the rope, his momentum had dwindled to a slow drift. He grabbed ahold of the rope, using it to keep himself from rising. Swinging his legs down to the cavern floor, he twisted the upper portion of the rope around one calf to use as an anchor.

Brock scooped up the thick coil of rope and began feeding it into the pit. His heart raced in fear as he thought of the Tantarri discovering him before he could free the others. Hand-over-hand, he lowered the rope into the pit.

“We’ve got it, Brock.” Tipper’s voice came from the depths below when the rope reached the bottom.

“Okay,” he replied, gripping the rope with both hands. “Send Cam first so he can help pull others up.”

.   .   .

Brock’s armpits were damp with nervous sweat. It took longer to get everyone out of the pit than he had hoped. The constant threat of being caught made the slow process excruciating.

Cam, Parker, and Tipper made it to the rim with little problem. Benny struggled a bit but made it with some help. Libby was unable to get far on her own, requiring the boys at the top to hoist her up. However, Ashland had no such issues. Brock was proud of her surprising strength of body and will. Lars surprisingly opted to go last, and it was a struggle to get him out. His weight required all of them to pull in unison. When he finally cleared the rim, he lay on his stomach, panting heavily.

The burning need to make haste prompted Brock to prod his friend along. “Lars, I know you’re tired, but we have to leave. Now.”

The large boy nodded, grunting as he slowly climbed to his feet.

Brock turned to Ashland, who still had his coat and boots tied to her back.

“Can you keep my things for a bit? I have no idea if running would even work with me being this light, so I’ll just have to float along for now.”

She nodded. “Sure. Grab on.”

He grabbed onto her gray travel cloak and unwrapped his leg from the rope. Released from their anchor, his legs began to float toward the ceiling.

“Let’s go grab our stuff and get out of here.” Brock said from his odd position, floating above Ashland. “Cam, you lead.”

They headed down the tunnel, toward the gallery where their belongings had been stored. Ashland and Brock followed Cam with the others trailing behind. From time to time, Brock’s foot would hit the roof of the tunnel and he’d push off so he’d float horizontal again.

They rounded the bend and approached the large cavern. It was far darker than before, with just two torches lighting the open space. Cam paused and glanced at Brock, who nodded, anxious to escape the situation. They entered the cavern, heading for their weapons still in the middle of the cavern.

A shout sounded from behind. “Stop or you die!”

Brock spun toward the voice, and Ashland’s cloak slipped from his grip. Flailing his arms as he attempted to reach her, he floated up toward the rocky roof. The scene below zoomed out as he drifted higher. He winced in pain when he collided into the rocky ceiling, with its uneven surface jutting into his back.

From his position high above the room, he easily spotted the dozen Tantarri warriors stationed along the wall near the tunnel that led to the pit. The warriors’ eyes were wide with fear, their bows pointed up at Brock.

Rapidly approaching footsteps drew Brock’s attention toward another tunnel entrance. Ten Tantarri, armed with curved swords, emerged in a run and surrounded Brock’s friends. Juran ran in behind them, slowing to a stop as he addressed his captives.

“I don’t know how you managed to escape the pit, but we were prepared to stop you if you did.” He crossed his arms in an arrogant stance. “Death still waits for you at sunrise.”

A Tantarri bowman shouted. “Juran! Beware! Above you! They have dark magic!”

Juran looked up, seeing Brock for the first time. With wide eyes, he backed a few steps. His look of shock transformed into one of pure hatred. He shouted to his men. “Shoot him. Kill him!”

“Juran, No!”

Everyone turned toward the woman’s voice. Stepping from the mouth of the tunnel was the same woman who had accompanied the head clansman earlier.

She approached Juran, shaking her head. “You cannot kill him, Juran. You must honor the prophecy.” Her hand rested on his arm. “If he dies, so does our hope.”

Juran’s face was a cloud of frustration. “Puri, it cannot be. How can one of the treacherous Imperials offer hope for the Tantarri? If we let him live, he’ll betray us.”

Puri shook her head. “No, brother. Not every one of them has a lying heart. You know Elder Duratti’s words as well as any. The portent appeared in our morning skies just days ago, and now the outsider who can fly is here in Mondomi.” She glanced up at Brock. “It cannot be coincidence. He is the one.” She turned toward Juran. “The days of the prophecy are upon us, and the fate of the Tantarri hangs in the balance.”

Juran stared at her, frustration apparent on his inked face. A long moment passed before he relented.

“Fine. You deal with them, then. I’ll have no part of their treachery.” He pointed a finger at her face. “But when they betray you, do not come crying to me.”

Juran stormed off, disappearing into the tunnel.

Puri called to the Tantarri. “Put down your weapons; do not harm them.” She looked up at Brock. “We will not harm you. Please accept our apologies for your harsh treatment. You are now our guests and will be treated as such.”

Brock had a good feeling about this woman. She did not exude the same hate and anger as her brother. He coiled his legs against the ceiling and launched himself down toward the others. The speed of his drop slowed as he approached the ground. He reached out to grab Cameron’s outstretched hand, bringing his legs down so he could stand. Ashland grabbed his other hand to help hold him down.

He looked up at Puri, who stood almost a head taller than Brock. Although her brown eyes were intense, her smooth cheeks showed that she was younger than he had first assumed. While she did have symbols and images scrawled on her skin, she had far less ink than her brother did.

Puri bowed to him. “I am Puri, first daughter of Turan, head clansman of the Tantarri. Welcome to Mondomi.”

CHAPTER 24

Brock woke as the hammock swayed from Ashland shifting her position. He lifted his free hand to swipe the sleep from his eyes, blinking to clear them. Ashland’s mess of brown curls tumbled across his chest, where her head remained. She had fallen asleep atop of him to help prevent him from floating away, which he didn’t mind in the least. Any reason to be close to her was good enough for Brock.

His gaze swept around the room, seeing the others still asleep in the row of hammocks hanging within the large man-made cavern. A single torch in the tunnel outside flickered, sending dim light through the seams in the curtain hanging in the doorway. Here inside of the mountain, Brock couldn’t determine if the sun had yet risen.

Looking at Ashland again, he gently touched her cheek. Stirring, she lifted her head to look up at him. She smiled, her eyes still looking sleepy. He smiled back. I love you. He said to her in thought. I love you more. She said, her smile growing.

He chuckled. “Is this a contest? Who loves who more?”

She closed her eyes, resting her chin on his chest. “Yes. Sorry, but you’re losing.”

“I find that hard to believe. I’m pretty sure I love you as much as anyone could possibly love anyone else,” he said as he stroked her hair.

Her eyes flickered open. “That’s nice, Brock. But I still love you more.”

“Are you guys done with the mushy talk yet?” Benny grumbled. “It’s making me ill.”

Brock laughed. “Yeah. Sorry if we woke you.”

Benny sat up, his hammock swinging from the motion. “It’s okay. I was already awake, trying to figure out what time it is. I can’t tell here in this cave.”

“I know what time it is.” Cam said from the hammock just beyond Benny’s. “It’s time to eat. I’m starving. After eating just one meal yesterday, I feel as if I could eat a whole cow.”

Benny replied. “I better go warn the Tantarri to hide their cows. Cameron’s on the loose, and he’s hungry.”

Lars’ bellowing laughter filled the cave, joined by the laughter of others in the group.

“He got you again, DeSanus! Ha! Hide your cows!” Lars said, laughing even harder.

As the laughter died down, brighter light coming from the tunnel redirected Brock’s attention. A Tantarri man pulled the curtain aside and stepped in, placing a torch in a sconce secured to the wall. A woman carrying a large pot followed him.

“Your breakfast is served,” she said, placing the pot onto the long table located near the door.

Another woman stepped into the room and set a towel-covered basket beside the pot. Two others followed, one carrying two pitchers and another with a large basket filled with bowls and utensils. A minute later, the table was set and the group of Tantarri bowed before leaving.

Ashland sat up, causing the hammock to swing wildly. “At least you’re not floating away anymore,” she noted.

“Yeah.” Brock sat up. “Thank goodness it finally wore off. It felt bizarre to be all floaty. I wouldn’t want to do that outside without anything above but open sky. At least, not without some weight on me.”

Everyone abandoned their hammocks, taking seats on the benches that lined both sides of the long table. The biscuits in the basket were warm, fluffy, and delicious. Lars scooped steaming porridge from the large pot, plopping a large clump onto each bowl before passing it along. While Brock was not a fan of the mushy dish, he was too hungry to care. Starved from the lack of food the day prior, they ate in silence as they focused on filling their stomachs. The food was almost completely gone when another visitor appeared.

All eyes turned to the familiar face at the doorway.

With a bow, Puri addressed them. “Good morning, guests. I hope you slept well.” She directed her attention toward Brock. “Master flyer. If you have finished your meal, my father would like to speak with you.”

Brock glanced at Ashland, who nodded. He climbed off the bench, rising to his feet.

“Yes, Puri. Let me put my boots on, and I’ll join you.”

After slipping his feet into the boots, he gave her a nod to indicate he was ready. The Tantarri woman bowed to the others and then turned to leave. Brock followed her down the narrow corridor. They reached an open room with branching tunnels, one with a descending stairwell and another with a rising stairwell. Puri led him to the one that went up, following a winding stone staircase that brought them to a wide terrace. Unlike the other parts of Mondomi that he had seen, the terrace was open to the outdoors. The cliff on the opposite side of the narrow canyon consisted of red and brown stripes, brightly lit by the morning sun. The ceiling above appeared to be a natural rock overhang that extended for hundreds of feet, providing shelter from the sun and rain. Puri led Brock across the upper tier of the terrace before descending three steps to the lower tier where the head clansman waited.

Puri stopped a few strides from the man, gesturing for Brock to continue. Brock stepped up to the short stone block wall surrounding the terrace. Imitating the man standing beside him, Brock put his hands on the waist-high wall to gaze out at the scene beyond.

Below the terrace, a small city made of stone bustled with activity. Horses pulled carts filled with supplies along narrow streets. Women tended clothing lines strung on the rooftops. Children played in a plaza, running and laughing. Men and women filled buckets of water from a large fountain at another plaza. A third plaza located upon building rooftops waited just below where Brock stood. The upper plaza was empty other than a lone craftsman who sat on a bench, carving a wooden totem. A natural rock wall, perhaps ten feet tall, surrounded the outer edge of the city to obscure it from view from the canyon floor beyond.

Brock was stunned. How had this city been constructed into the side of a mountain? The very thought of carving this much stone was beyond comprehension.

“It’s amazing, wouldn’t you say?” the man beside Brock asked.

“Yes…um…sir. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Brock replied.

He turned toward Brock. “Please, call me Turan. You are not of my people, so any other term would be inappropriate.”

Not sure what to do, Brock imitated Puri’s bow. “It’s nice to meet you, Turan. My name is Brock Talenz.”

Turan smiled. “Manners. This is good. I hoped that you would not be difficult.” He stepped away from the wall. “Come with me.”

Brock followed as the man spoke. Puri trailed them both at a distance.

“We Tantarri have lived here for four hundred years.” His arm swept out in a gesture toward the city. “This place is our home and is quite special to us. You and your companions will be the first outsiders to see this place and leave alive. Ever.”

Brock swallowed hard. The Tantarri had meant to kill them, but something happened to change their intentions. He had the feeling he was about to discover what it was.

Turan led him to a tunnel that snaked upward, speaking to Brock as he made the ascent. “Every head clansman for the past four hundred years has dreaded your coming. We have watched the signs, waiting for your arrival. Now that you have arrived, the fate of my people rests upon your shoulders and mine. My role is to ensure that you have what you need to succeed. Yours is to have the wits to find the correct path and the will to survive.”

Brock had no idea what the man was talking about. “I don’t understand.”

The man paused, glancing at Brock with sad eyes. “Soon, you will.”

Turan led Brock up the winding stairwell and into a small cave. A thin beam of light streamed through a single opening opposite from the entrance. Looking through the narrow opening, Brock realized that they were directly above the large terrace they had just vacated.

Shifting focus, his eyes settled on an old man sitting cross-legged on the floor. Blue-colored smoke emitted from a small brazier next to the man. The smoke swirled about, filling the small room with an odd sweet scent.

Turan addressed the man. “Elder Yuranni.” He paused as he gave a shallow bow to the old man. “The portent hovers above us in the morning sky, warning the Tantarri of what is to come. The Duratti Prophecy comes to fruition.” He gestured toward Brock. “I present to you the outlander who can wield the lost magic. May fate smile upon him and the quest to come.”

The small man raised his head, his eyes looking upon Brock. Despite the slight stature of the ancient man, Brock could feel the weight of wisdom in his dark eyes. A gust of wind whistled through the narrow window and teased the man’s wispy white hair, causing it to dance and his long white beard to ruffle

The man gestured at the floor before him. “Please, sit, my son.”

Brock sat across from the man. The brazier stood to one side, the blue-tinted smoke filling Brock’s lungs. He soon began to feel dizzy. The old man beckoned with his fingers, and Brock leaned close. Yuranni’s palm settled on Brock’s forehead, and the man closed his eyes. After a few moments, his eyes flashed open, and he nodded.

“He is indeed the outlander from my vision. I see the lost magic within him and life magic as well.”

The old man stared into Brock’s eyes with frightening intensity. Brock felt light-headed, and the room began to spin. Yuranni’s skinny arm shot out to grab Brock’s wrist. The man’s eyes rolled back and Brock’s vision blurred to white.

.   .   .

Brock drifted in the white, feeling floaty and weightless. As if a fog were lifting, an image materialized before him. He found himself high above the Tantarri plains, a battle raging below him. Paladins from the Holy Army fought against waves of giant creatures. The Tantarri rode in on horseback, attacking the evil army from the side, but it was clear that the enemy was too many. Time seemed to lurch, the evil army replaced by scattered human corpses littering the grassy fields. Among the broken bodies of Paladins and Tantarri warriors, he found only a scattering of enemy remains.

The image blurred again, showing a city of stone built into the side of a mountain. Lonely streets of blood-soaked stone were a harsh reminder of the joy and full lives that used to dominate the now dead city. Leaving a trail of corpses behind, the dark army had moved on. Brock knew they could not be stopped. Humanity was doomed, destined to be but a memory. He began to cry as the last threads of hope inside him severed. Mankind would be no more.

.   .   .

His vision cleared, and he was back in the small cave. The old man before him sat with his head bowed. Brock wiped the tears from his face, trying to get his emotions under control. What had he seen? Was it a dream?

The old man lifted his head, locking eyes with Brock. “No, it was not a dream. It was a vision of the future.”

Choked up, it was difficult for Brock to speak. “How did you do that? It was so vivid, so real.”

“It is called dream weaving.” The old man gave a small smile. “I must confess, this is not the first time you and I have shared a dream.”

Brock’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? We just met.”

“The world of dreams does not require physical proximity. It is possible for a practiced Dreamweaver to locate someone, though they are a great distance away, and share a vision within their dreams. Even someone whom they have yet to meet.” Yuranni glanced up at Turan before looking back toward Brock. “About a year and a half ago, I was in the world of dreams and encountered a vision of great importance. Driven by this vision, I entered the world of dreams to locate the person from my vision, seeking to implant a rune within his mind, for without my interference, the lost magic would never return.” The man folded his hands in his lap and leaned back. “Though we had not met, my vision gave me an impression of your spirit, your essence, which I located through the world of dreams. I then entered your dream, presented myself in the image of your god so you would not question the message, and imprinted the rune into your mind.”

Brock’s eyes grew wide as he remembered the dream he had the night of the banshee attack at Glowridge Pass.

Yuranni nodded. “You know of what I speak.”

“Yes. I know of it,” Brock replied, still trying to comprehend the concept.

“And I expect that the rune helped you in some significant way?”

Brock nodded, thinking back on how using Chaos on the rune had animated Hank’s corpse, who attacked the banshee before both fell over the cliff edge. “Yes. Without it, I would have been killed.” He then remembered the encounter with the bacabra and how he had used that same rune to bring the boulder to life. “In fact, it saved me twice.”

Yuranni nodded. “The vision warned that we were doomed unless I took action. Though it is against our beliefs to insert oneself into another’s dreams, I found that I had no choice. I apologize for the violation.”

Brock didn’t know what to say. “Um...that’s okay.” His thoughts drifted to the vision he had been shown. “What about the vision you just showed me?”

The old man sighed. “The night after I entered your dreams, I had a vision of hope, matching an ancient prophecy that the Tantarri hold dear. Each night since then, I have instead had some variation of the terrible vision I just showed to you. These visions all relate to the same prophecy, one that the Tantarri have witnessed countless times in the past four centuries. ”

“It’s not just the Tantarri, is it?” Brock replied. “I saw…I felt everyone dying. It would be the end of everyone.”

The old man nodded. “That is correct. All of humanity will fall to this evil force.”

“I don’t understand,” Brock said. “Why show it to me?”

The man’s eyes softened. “The weight of responsibility is heavy, but there are some who seek it, like a drug. They seek power, seek to control others.” He paused briefly. “Sometimes, responsibility seeks out the person. When this happens, forces unknown see in a person what is required. Some quality within makes them special. Perhaps it is courage. Perhaps it is strength of will. Perhaps something else. I believe it is a strong sense of compassion. After all, isn’t caring the most desirable quality in a leader?”

Still not understanding, Brock asked a different way. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

“To understand, first you must understand how true prophecy works.” The old man explained. “Imagine you toss a stone into a pool, sending ripples across the peaceful surface of the water. Now imagine the water to be the calm of life magic, what you call Order. When a world-changing event occurs, it is like the stone dropping into the peaceful pool of Order, sending ripples outward, even into the past. Those with the ability of true prophecy encounter these ripples in the form of visions. Since these events are in the future, there are variations in the outcome, dictated by people’s actions leading up to the event itself. You see, our future is not pre-determined, it is the result of a convergence of what might happen and the choices we make in life.”

Brock nodded, confirming that he understood. “So you are saying that this vision is one of many possible futures, which means there are other possible outcomes.”

“It is good that can think with reason.” Yuranni gave a nod and a small smile. “I have seen similar visions of this event hundreds of times. All but once, I have witnessed the same heartbreaking outcome.”

Brock gritted his teeth, holding back his growing frustration. “So, there is hope, but it is slight. What can we do?”

Elder Yuranni looked up past Brock. “Turan, did you bring the Duratti scroll?”

Brock glanced up at Turan, who pulled a roll of yellowed paper from his belt. Unrolling it, he read out loud.

“And, so, many generations after the War of Wails, a portent will appear in the morning sky. Look for the star that shines during daylight, for it marks the return of the great evil. Within days of this warning, an outlander will appear on Tantarri lands. You must bring this outlander to the mountain home. Misguided by distrust, you will attempt to imprison him though your deepest pit cannot hold him. You will know him when he flies above where others tread, for he is blessed with the lost magic.”

Turan glanced at Brock before continuing. “The Tantarri must watch for him, share these words, and keep him safe. This outlander marks the Reditus, the return of the lost magic. In all possible futures I have envisioned, the coming enemy destroys everything unless they face the might of the lost magic. Even then, the path to survival is a narrow thread looming over a wide chasm.”

Brock thought about the words, about the term lost magic. They must be referring to Chaos. While there were others who could now use it, everything had started with him. His mind was racing, trying to understand.

“So this prophecy, you’re saying that it describes me.” Brock realized it was difficult to argue, based on the specifics described. “Where did you get this?”

Elder Yuranni spoke. “It was written by my ancestor, Elder Duratti, roughly four hundred years ago. He was the first of the Tantarri elders and was the first to experience visions of this event. Like me, he had hundreds of prophetic visions, all but a single instance ending in despair. The prophecy you just heard are the words he wrote after his vision of hope.” Yuranni paused, frowning. “Since his passing, his ancestors have seen many times that number, never again seeing this single path to an outcome of survival. That is, until the night I entered your dreams.”

Brock swallowed hard. Four hundred years was a long time for these people to wait. One vision resulting in survival among thousands ending in doom spoke to poor odds. Though disheartening, it wasn’t in his nature to give up hope.

“Okay, let’s say I believe you. What can I do? I can’t stop an army, I’m just one person.”

Head Clansman Turan spoke again. “There is more in the prophecy. Listen closely.”

He unrolled the scroll again, finding the passage he needed. “Guided by a single warrior of the head clansman’s line, this outlander must lead a quest for secrets hidden within a throne marked by runes. Guard the outlander well, for the quest will be fraught with peril and death. With this prize in hand, they must free the lost magic and meet the armies of evil in the heart of Tantarri lands when the portent reaches the evening sky. Should the quest fail, the end of humanity is certain. Of this fate, there can be no doubt. This vision is the greatest truth I will ever record.”

Turan paused, glancing at Brock and then at Puri before continuing. “There was more to my vision, though I know not what it means.” He read, unrolling the scroll to reveal the bottom. “The outlander must close the world’s wound and stop the bleeding before it’s too late. He must also find the truth and set it free, for the lost magic hides within a web of lies. The coming days will be dark for mankind. Remember, when the portent shifts to the evening sky, death will roll across the plains of Tantarri.”

Turan lowered the scroll, his eyes locking onto Brock’s.

Brock looked from Turan to the old man on the floor across from him. “I don’t understand. What do these things mean? What am I to do?”

Yuranni nodded. “It is much to consider.” He glanced to Turan then back to Brock. “We have had centuries to think on this and yet have little to offer in guidance. We instead must place our hope in you to find the answers. Even the vision I experienced myself was clouded, leaving an impression of hope without the details that Duratti recorded.”

Brock tried to come to grips with the words that Turan had read to him. Where to begin? He thought about the vision again. It felt so real, the sorrow lingering.

“This is difficult to digest.” He said, his gaze shifting from Yuranni to Turan and back. “I agree that something must be done, but I have no idea what I am to do. Please tell me that I don’t have to do it alone, that my friends are allowed to join me.”

The elder spoke again. “Yes, your companions may join you. As the prophecy notes, one of Turan’s children must join you as well, or the quest will fail.”

Brock looked to Turan, who glanced at Puri.

“I want to go with them, Father. I am as skilled a warrior as Juran,” she said. “He has been leading Clan Halatti since you became head clansman. I, however, have no defined role. In addition, Juran remains blinded by his hatred.” She nodded in conviction. “I am the logical choice.”

Turan continued to stare at Puri, his brow furrowed as he considered her words.

Brock interjected. “The prophecy mentioned seeking a throne of runes. We haven’t had kings, queens, and thrones in the Empire for centuries. How am I supposed to find this throne if I know nothing about it and it’s been lost for hundreds of years?”

“I regret that I have no answers. Nor can I guess at what wound must be closed or at what truth must be set free,” Yuranni replied. “You must rely on your own council in these matters. We place our faith in the choices that you and your companions make. The actions of man, the guidance of free will, and the gift of hope are the best weapons against a dark prophecy.”

Brock muttered “Why me?”

Yuranni laughed. “I would ask the same question if I were in your shoes. This is not a fanciful tale of some Chosen One.” He laughed again. “Apparently, one simple thing hinges on the survival of humanity. Somehow, you are triggering the return of the lost magic. According to the prophecy, we cannot survive the coming days without it. Keep that in mind, and I believe you will find your way.”

Brock couldn’t believe this was happening.

His thoughts drifted back to how he had gained the false rune of Order when trying to pursue a better life by entering the Academy to become a Master. Everything had been going well until Varius discovered his deceit, forcing him to flee the school. Now, Brock and his friends had the hopes of a nation, and perhaps of all humanity, relying on them. He still didn’t know what they were supposed to do or how to get it done. How did he end up in this mess?

CHAPTER 25

Turan left Brock alone with Puri and sent a warrior off to fetch Brock’s friends. Brock leaned against the block wall of the large terrace, looking at the busy city below. He was still trying to come to grips with what had been revealed.

He turned around, looking up as he searched for the window to the old man’s room. After a moment, he spotted the opening, surprised at how well it blended with the rock. His eyes lowered, shifting to find Puri studying him with her dark eyes. Feeling self-conscious from her intense glare, Brock spoke to break the tension.

“Why does your brother hate me, Puri?” he asked. “What have I done that he wants me dead?”

Puri sighed as she stepped beside Brock to lean on the short wall. “He doesn’t hate you. You are just a convenient target for his hatred. He sees you as the enemy who betrayed him and broke his heart.”

She turned toward him, her eyes searching his face. “What do you know of the Tantarri?”

Brock shrugged. “Truthfully, very little. The Ministry shares almost no information about the Tantarri with Empire citizens.”

“Then, I will start at the beginning.” She rested her elbows on the short wall, her gaze directed toward the city below. “Long ago, the clans came to the plains in search of refuge. There, they found fertile lands to feed their cattle. They also found herds of wild horses, but not just any horses. They were the fastest and most beautiful animals anyone had ever seen. Among them was a glorious white stallion, who led the largest herd. It was then that the head clansman, Garamon the Great, declared these lands to be our new home. Smitten with the beauty of the lead stallion, he vowed to tame the animal and become one with its spirit. The clans moved about the vast plains, relocating periodically so their cattle could feed on fresh grass. Their travels followed the herd of wild horses. Each time they got close, Garamon would attempt to befriend the white stallion, knowing that the horse was the key to gaining the trust of the herd. Days became weeks, weeks became months, months became years, and still Garamon pursued the wild white stallion, but was never even able to touch the beautiful animal. Two years after he had initiated his pursuit, Garamon followed the stallion and his herd into this very canyon.” She pointed toward the sunlit canyon walls before them. “The horse led the head clansman and his party up the narrow trail along the canyon wall. There, he discovered an abandoned city of rock, hidden from view.”

She paused, looking at Brock as he digested her story. “But that was not all. The wild herd led Garamon down a long tunnel that opened to a secret valley filled with long lush grass and a spring-fed lake. Surrounded on all sides by steep cliffs, the tunnel was the only path to this hidden valley, which Garamon named Viridian. This is when Garamon knew he had truly found a home for the Tantarri, naming the rock city Mondomi, which means home in the mountain.”

“Within Viridian, the lead stallion finally allowed Garamon to approach. With a slow and steady hand, Garamon greeted the beautiful creature. Amazingly, when he grabbed the stallion’s mane and mounted its back, it did not rear nor bolt. Instead, it remained calm and ready. With a thrill in his heart, Garamon bid the stallion to a trot, then to a gallop. Soon, they were racing across the green fields of Viridian, riding faster than man had ever traveled before.”

“Garamon named the stallion Primus and proudly rode the stallion out to the plains to meet his people. When the clans saw Garamon approaching upon the white stallion, followed by the herd of wild horses, they were amazed. This is when they named him Garamon the Great. He led the Tantarri here to Mondomi, where we have lived ever since.”

She smiled. “This is the legend of the Tantarri. How much is true, I do not know. What I can tell you is that the Tantarri raise the fastest horses in the world. Our horses are a great resource, much desired by your Empire. This resource allowed the Tantarri to exist peacefully and independently from the Empire for centuries. That is, until twelve years ago when Archon Ringholdt demanded the Tantarri join the Empire and share the herds for the benefit of all. Of course, the clans refused. Since then, the Tantarri have been at war with the Empire. Two years ago, we believed the war was nearing an end after an emissary from the Ministry approached to arrange a meeting with our leaders. When the Tantarri emissary, led by Juran, met with the Ministry, they were attacked. That act of betrayal further damaged the relationship while taking the lives of key members of the Tantarri. One of those lives was Juran’s wife, Minurri.”

Brock nodded, now understanding. “Juran hates the Ministry for their betrayal and for the death of his wife. He hates me because he sees me as one of them.”

Puri nodded. “It is good to see you can think logically. Since much rides on you, it gives me hope.” She smiled.

“Wow. Thanks,” he replied, sarcastically.

“Brock!”

Turning about, Brock smiled when he saw Ashland hurrying down the steps and across the terrace, trailed by the others.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said as she approached.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He glanced at Puri. “I have some…new information though. It appears we now have a mission, but our future has become far more dangerous.”

Ashland was staring at him with an odd look on her face. Benny stepped next to her, squinting through his spectacles, leaning close to Brock’s face. Parker, Cam, and Lars all stepped closer, looking at Brock over Benny’s shoulders.

“What is that?” Benny said, pointing at Brock’s head.

Ashland replied. “It’s another rune, Benny.” Her focus shifted from Brock’s forehead to his eyes. “Did you know you’ve been marked with a Chaos rune?”

Brock was confused, trying to digest her words. “What are you talking about?”

She touched his forehead. “Chaos. Its right here, embedded into your Order rune.”

He glanced at Puri, who replied. “You did not know this? When Elder Yuranni touched your forehead, it appeared as was foretold. It marks the return of the lost magic, the magic needed to defeat our coming enemy.”

Brock put his palm against his forehead, his mind racing. Yes, life was definitely going to be more dangerous.

“You mentioned a mission. What mission?” Benny asked.

Brock looked at Benny, refocusing on what was before him. “There is a prophecy that mentions me, mentions us.” His gaze swept across his companions as he spoke. “Something bad is coming, and we have been tasked with a quest that could stop it. Failure could mean the end of everything, of everyone.” He paused, thinking about the gravity of his statement. His brow furrowed. “Apparently, I need your help to find some throne of runes.”

“The Emblem Throne?” Parker asked.

“What?” Brock replied, turning toward Parker.

Parker glanced around, seeing looks of curiosity and confusion. “The Emblem Throne. You know. The song you sing during knucklebones.”

“Knucklebones?” Lars asked. “What are you going on about?”

Everyone stared at Parker, waiting for a response. “Nobody else has played knucklebones?”

Heads shook in response. Parker shrugged, explaining.

“It’s a game you play, kind of like dice. However, it relies on quickness and dexterity rather than luck. I used to play it with my friends in Sol Polis when I was a kid.”

Brock’s brow furrowed. “What’s this have to do with a throne of runes?”

Parker sighed in response. “While playing knucklebones, we sing songs and play to the beat. One of the songs was called The Emblem Throne. Listen.”

Parker began slapping his thigh to a beat, nodding his head as he sang.

“People lie when they feel they must, though they hide behind truthful tone,

Scheme and cheat those who trust, but no lie may pass The Emblem Throne,

With runes gracing the rising sun, behind a seat of Tallinor’s own

Gifting him with eyes of truth, no lie may pass The Emblem Throne.”

Parker grinned. “There’s more, but you get the idea.”

Brock nodded. It was a thin lead, but it was something. “So where is this throne and who is Tallinor?”

Parker shrugged. “Tallinor was the King of Kalimar, hundreds of years ago.”

.   .   .

Pulling the curtain back, Brock held it to allow Ashland to pass before he followed through the doorway. A single torch on the wall illuminated their room, currently empty since their friends were still on the terrace eating lunch. Ashland had asked him to join her for a private moment, setting Brock’s stomach flipping between hope and anxiety.

She glanced toward the swaying curtain before meeting his eyes. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but are you sure we should do this? We know nothing about these people, and now you’re asking us to run off on some crazy quest based on the words of an old man.”

Brock sighed. “I know it sounds outlandish, but you weren’t there.” Stepping closer, he gazed into her eyes. “These people can wield Order in ways I’ve never seen. Perhaps they know things about Order that the Ministry doesn’t. I’m not sure how he did it, but this Elder Yuranni showed me a vision. It was of the future, or at least a possible future. Death and destruction swept over the land, obliterating everything, even this city in the mountain. Everyone, every single person on the continent, died in this vision.” Brock could feel the emotion of the vision creeping back in, threatening to draw more tears.

Ashland’s eyes searched his. “You seem convinced, Brock. Whatever it was, it must have been powerful.”

He nodded. “There was something about the vision and the prophecy they read to me. I could feel the truth of it. Whatever’s coming is ominous. I can feel it building, somewhere out there. We have to find this Emblem Throne. If we don’t, I’m afraid that we will lose everything.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Part of me wants to take you and run off to hide somewhere, but I’m afraid it would just delay the inevitable for us while also dooming everyone else.”

Ashland’s eyes drifted closed as she leaned in for a kiss, opening them when she pulled back. “I love the idea of running away with you, but the Brock I know couldn’t live with himself knowing that he abandoned everyone.”

Brock smiled. “You’re probably right.” He paused, thinking about their discussion. “Nobody has said it yet, but I’m sure others will be questioning this plan as well. For now, they’re happy to be alive and to know that we are soon leaving. Once we are away, the questions will come and I might need your help in convincing them to give this a chance.”

Ashland nodded. “Of course I’ll help.” She smiled. “We’re in this together.”

Brock kissed her again. Looking back toward the closed curtain, he found that the tunnel outside remained quiet. His focus shifted, eying the hammock they had slept in.

“We have a few minutes alone.” A smile crept across his face. “The hammock looks like it could offer some interesting possibilities.”

A smile lit her face. “Brock Talenz, you are so bad.” Glancing at the hammock, her smile took a devious turn. “Let’s hurry before the others come back.”

CHAPTER 26

Cameron had done his best to bury thoughts of Tegan, trying to focus on the future rather than the past. However, when he looked at Puri, he couldn’t help but think of the fiery red-haired girl. She and Puri shared much in their physical stature and the way they carried themselves. However, Puri had an exotic nature that made her unique.

Sitting at a table with his friends, he remained quiet as they bantered in conversation during their meal. Cam ate because he was hungry, but his eyes continually searched out the table where Puri sat with other Tantarri leaders. He noticed that the Tantarri respected her. He wasn’t sure if it was because her father was head clansman or if it was due to her skill as a warrior. Perhaps it was both.

“Cam, do you want another slice of beef?” Ashland asked as she held the platter toward him.

He nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

He slid a thick slab of meat onto his plate before passing the platter to Lars. Cam cut a section and took a bite, finding the meat juicy and flavorful. It went well with the boiled vegetables and flatbread served alongside it. The wheat ale provided was also good. He took another drink, enjoying the sweet hint of pumpkin that reduced the bitter aftertaste.

As Cam ate, he scanned the faces of his companions. Smiles and laughter surrounded him, and everyone seemed to be in good spirits. They seemed to be enjoying the Tantarri feast as a welcome distraction from the dangerous quest before them. His eyes landed on Brock, and the new rune on his friend’s forehead. After a lifetime of seeing familiar vocation runes, it was startling to see a red starburst of Chaos stamped within the blue-tinted symbol for Order. It would be difficult for Brock to go unnoticed. Cam wasn’t sure of what had happened, but it was significant. Whether for good or bad, things had changed forever. He had the feeling that the future would require him to support Brock more than ever.

Loud beats began to thump through the city, causing Cam to look about in confusion. He glanced down toward the Tantarri in one of the plazas below. All eyes were focused up past where Cam and his friends sat. He followed the direction of their gaze, turning toward the terrace overlooking the city, two stories above the rooftop plaza where Cam and his friends sat.

The drumming stopped, and the city became quiet. The head clansman stepped to the short wall surrounding the terrace. He raised his arms and addressed the people below.

“Good evening, Tantarri nation.” His voice carried amazingly well, echoing off the angled rock overhang above. “Thank you for joining in this feast. It is well that we pause and enjoy what we have, for the path the Tantarri travel is about to turn.”

“As foretold long ago, the Reditus has come. The lost magic returns.” The announcement sent a buzz throughout the city. Turan waved his arms to urge quiet.

“Yes, it is true. Tomorrow, a select group of Tantarri warriors will escort our outlander guests to the border of Tantarri lands. From there, my daughter will join the outlanders on a quest of great importance. The fate of the Tantarri hangs in the balance, determined by the success or failure of this quest.”

Turan waved a fist high, pumping it. “However, the Tantarri will not sit idle waiting for the outcome. Instead, we will prepare for the future and the war that will surely come to our lands. I speak not of the pitiful disagreement we have with the Empire. No, this war will rival, or perhaps even surpass, the War of Wails. There cannot be doubt that war will come; it is merely a matter of time.”

He held his arms wide, a welcoming gesture. “But this evening is not about war and death. Tonight, we celebrate life. I urge you to enjoy yourselves this evening, for tomorrow we begin our preparations. When the war comes, you will be asked to do everything in your power to preserve the lives and freedom of those you love.”

A deafening cheer rose from the Tantarri. Cam could feel the energy of it within his chest. Turan stepped from the edge of the terrace, disappearing from view.

A Tantarri woman came to the table with a large pitcher, refilling mugs with the pumpkin-spiced ale. With his mug refilled, Cam took a deep drink and wiped the orange-tinted foam from his lips.

The loud beats of the drums began again, accompanied by the strumming of something sounding much like a lute. Looking for the source of the music, he spotted a group of Tantarri on a nearby rooftop. The sound of pipes joined in, filling in missing notes. A Tantarri woman, standing upon the rooftop, began to sing.

Cam had heard music in taprooms in Nor Torin, which often involved a man with a lute singing some rhyme as he strummed. However, he had never heard anything like this. It was full of joy and energy. Glancing around, he noticed Tantarri everywhere were rising to their feet and dancing to the beat.

Ashland’s eyes lit up. “It’s wonderful.” She grabbed Brock’s hand as she stood. “Come on, let’s dance!”

Brock laughed. “Okay, if you want to.”

The two stepped out into the open, joining the Tantarri who were dancing on the rooftop plaza. Wide smiles spread across their faces as they danced. Cam watched them for a bit, deciding that they danced well, far better than he could.

“They are not bad.”

He turned, surprised to see Puri claiming the seat that Ashland had just vacated. Her intense brown eyes watched the dancing couple.

“Um…Yeah,” he replied, anxiety now brewing in his gut.

Puri’s eyes flicked toward Cameron. She looked him up and down, appraisingly. The way her eyes measured him made him uncomfortable. He swallowed hard, not knowing what to say.

“You must be a great warrior among your people,” Puri noted.

Cam’s eyes shifted to see if she was addressing Lars, but he was busy talking to Benny.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I was training to be one.” He was sweating. Why did she make him so nervous?

She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table as her piercing eyes locked on his.

“I examined your weapons before we returned them to you. I saw the rune on the blade you claimed. The Tantarri know this blade. If you are not a great warrior, did you steal it?”

Cam’s face clouded over. “No, I didn’t steal it. That would be wrong.” He calmed himself before continuing. “My father gave it to me.”

Puri nodded. “The Calm.”

Cam raised an eyebrow. He shouldn’t be surprised. His father was well known, and he’d been in skirmishes with the Tantarri late in his career with the Holy Army.

“Yes.”

She eyed him again. “You are among a great line of warriors then.” She smiled, nodding. “That is good.”

She looked toward the people dancing. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Cam glanced at Brock and Ashland. “No,” he replied.

Dancing did not appeal to him, expecting he would do poorly. His eyes flicked back to Puri to find her eyes narrowed at him.

He held his hands up in appeal. “Sorry. It’s not…I just don’t dance…sorry.”

Her eyes softened. “I see.” Her gaze returned to the dancers as she spoke. “Among the Tantarri, everyone dances. It is part of us, as is the music we play.”

Cam nodded. “Again, sorry.”

She smiled. “If you don’t dance, perhaps you’d like to do something else with me?”

Cam’s heart began to race. “What did you have in mind?”

She stood, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to his feet. Her eyes scanned him from head to toe. When her gaze met his again, a smile spread across her face.

“Come with me. I’ll show you. I think you’ll like it.”

CHAPTER 27

Watching Puri as she dressed, Cam appreciated her lithe and fit form. The evening with her had been wonderful, even therapeutic. He felt as if his torn heart had been patched over, now in the process of healing. In many ways, Puri was Tegan’s equal. In some, she was far superior. As Puri laced her leather vest, she spoke to him.

“You need to get moving. We are to leave within the hour.”

She was right; he needed to get moving. Cam sat upright, causing the hammock to swing. He flipped his legs over the side and dropped to the stone floor. The hard surface felt cold to his bare feet as he wandered the room in search of his clothing, which was scattered about the room. As he began to dress, he glanced toward Puri and found her leering at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Men are not alone in their ability to appreciate the form of another,” she flashed a devious grin.

Cam felt a flush of embarrassment as he pulled up his trousers. Once he was dressed, Puri pulled the curtain covering her doorway aside and waved Cam outside. He ducked as he stepped through, careful not to hit his head. Having already made that mistake the previous evening, the lump atop his head still hurt.

She led him along a narrow hall and down a flight of stairs. Moments later, they approached the large room where his friends were staying. Puri pulled the curtain aside, and he stepped through. Heads turned in their direction, more than one face showing a brow raised in question. Feeling his face flush again, Cam glanced at Puri to see her reaction.

Seeming unaffected, Puri addressed the group. “It is good that you are awake. I feared that some of you might be feeling ill effects from last night’s feast.”

Brock smiled weakly. “Some of us do feel a bit ill. However, a messenger was just here, reminding us to prepare for an early departure.”

“This is good.” She nodded. “Gather your things and meet me in the receiving hall. It is the large cavern where we first met.”

Puri turned and ducked out the door without giving Cam a second glance. He watched the curtain sway as he listened to her footsteps fading. While he had a wonderful night with Puri, he had no idea what it meant. Did she like him or did she just seek him out for the personal contact? He decided that he might never understand women.

Shaking his head to refocus, he crossed the room to gather his belongings. By the time he had his sword belt strapped and pack shouldered, everyone was ready to go.

Brock’s gaze swept the room, briefly making eye contact with each of them. “Is everyone ready?” Nods shook in his direction. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Brock ducked through the curtain, followed by his friends. They traveled down the rock tunnel and down a flight of stairs to another tunnel. When they entered the large cavern, they found Puri waiting with nine other Tantarri warriors. She had her long sword strapped to her back, long dagger at her hip, and a loaded saddlebag in hand.

She nodded. “Good. Follow me.”

Puri led them to the opposite tunnel while the other Tantarri warriors trailed behind the group. The tunnel brought them to a much wider tunnel that opened to the canyon sky in one direction. Puri turned the other direction, leading them deeper into the mountain. Since the tunnel was quite wide, they walked in a large clump rather than in a trailing column. After a quarter mile, the tunnel revealed light beyond a curve ahead.

To Cam’s amazement, they stepped out into a hidden valley, surrounded by steep cliffs on all sides. The rising sun was just emerging above the high cliffs to the east, brightly lighting the western half of the valley. It was green and lush despite it being winter. A single lake lay near the center, its calm surface reflecting the bright sky above. Herds of horse and cattle crazed peacefully in the fields, feasting on the long grasses. It was gorgeous.

Three Tantarri men were waiting for them. Puri approached the men, speaking with them before one of them turned and whistled. A small herd of horses came running from around a rock outcropping. Whites, browns, blacks, and spotted piebalds trotted over to the man who had whistled. The man stood calmly among the horses as they surrounded him.

Puri stepped forward and addressed Cam and his friends. “Please listen carefully. You are to spread out in this area. You may touch a horse with your hand if it comes close, but do not move your feet. Once a horse picks you, we will tell you its name. You are to take a few minutes to become friends with your horse while we prepare to have it saddled.”

Tipper looked confused. “Do you mean that we choose a horse?”

Puri shook her head. “You do not choose a Tantarri horse. A Tantarri horse chooses you.”

Tipper looked at her in confusion, reflecting Cam’s own thoughts. The others began to spread out and Cam followed suit. The Tantarri man who had called the horses walked through the group and made another high-pitched whistle. The horses began to wander among the group. After a number of horses passed Cameron, a tall male piebald stopped before him. The animal sniffed at him before nuzzling him with his nose. Tentatively, Cam reached up to pet the horse’s forehead. He glanced around to find the others speaking to the horses who had approached them.

“Hi, boy.” Cam spoke to the animal, trying to figure out what to say to a horse. “You’re a pretty horse.”

The horse whinnied, shaking its head. Startled, Cam backed away a step. A Tantarri man approached with a saddle in hand.

“His name is Gigamont. He is quite proud,” the warrior said as he hoisted the saddle onto the horses back. “I would not call him pretty again if I were you.”

As Cam watched the man secure the saddle, he considered another approach.

Stepping close, he tried again. “Hello Gigamont. My name is Cam. I would be honored if a powerful and glorious steed such as yourself would consider me as a rider.”

The horse nuzzled Cam’s neck and stamped a front hoof twice.

The Tantarri warrior stepped back, finished with the saddle. He nodded to Cam. “Much better. You will get along fine.”

As the man stepped away, Cam stepped beside Gigamont. Placing one foot in the stirrup and one hand on the saddle horn, he hoisted himself up into the saddle.

“Where’s the bridle?” Brock asked from astride the red roan that had chosen him.

That’s when Cam realized there were no bridle or reins.

Puri responded, shaking her head. “Tantarri do not use bridles.”

“How do we steer the horse?” Parker asked.

She smiled. “You’ll see.”

CHAPTER 28

Ashland moved gingerly, wincing as she sat upon the downed tree. She hadn’t ridden a horse since her first year at the Academy. After one day in the saddle, every movement seemed to hurt from her ribs down to her feet. She glanced over at Libby, who gritted her teeth in pain as she sat beside Tipper. Those two were in misery together, neither having ever ridden before. Libby had opted to ride with Ashland rather than attempting to ride on her own. To the girl’s credit, she never complained though she received the worst of every bump coming through the saddle.

Tipper, on the other hand, complained to Brock throughout the day. The two boys had shared a horse as well, but Tipper was sure to let Brock know how much every movement hurt. At one point, he even accused Brock of purposefully making it as bad as possible. Brock laughed it off, claiming to be at the mercy of the roan they were riding.

Brock settled next to Ashland, releasing a small groan as he took his seat.

“My thighs are sore,” he said. “Using them to guide the horse is taking a toll on me.”

She nodded in response. When Puri had explained that they had to use pressure with their legs to guide the horse, Ashland had been skeptical. While she was no longer a skeptic, squeezing with her legs throughout the day left them very sore.

Puri stood from her seat among the other Tantarri and circled the fire toward them.

“You outlanders ride worse than I had feared,” she said, shaking her head. “Now, you all sit here and complain about pain from riding. I don’t understand how you can go through life without feeling the joy of riding a horse every day. If you rode more often, you’d feel no pain from it.”

Brock laughed. “It’s not that easy, Puri. Horses are very expensive. In the Empire, only the wealthy own horses for riding. Yes, traders own workhorses to pull their wagons, but those horses are a business investment and aren’t meant for riding. The rest of the population might dream of owning a horse, but it’s a dream that will likely never happen.” Brock gestured toward his companions. “Luckily, most of us here attended the Academy, or we’d have never learned to ride at all.”

Tipper snorted. “You guys are lucky. I’ve never even been on a horse before, and now I hurt so much, I can’t walk.”

Puri shook her head. “You outlanders are strange.”

Benny, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, responded. “It’s all a matter of perspective. What you see as strange, we might see as normal. Trust me, there are many things about the Tantarri that we think are strange.”

Ashland nodded. “That’s true. Perhaps we should learn more about each other, and then our differences won’t seem so strange.”

Puri stared at Ashland, considering her words before giving a nod. “The words you speak are wise.” She sat on a log and stared at Brock and Ashland. “What should I know then?”

Ashland started, not prepared for the direct question. Brock responded instead.

“You make a mistake if you judge us by the actions of the Ministry. While they govern us, they represent their own agenda not ours. The citizens of the Empire are just people. We all have hopes and dreams. We want to love and to be loved. While we just want to go about our lives in peace, many of us also realize that we need to work together and support each other for a better tomorrow. We see that compassion breeds compassion and that hate, selfishness, and contempt lead to bitterness and an empty existence.” Brock looked her in the eye. “Do we sound so different?”

Puri and the other Tantarri had listened intently as Brock spoke. As he finished speaking, Ashland noticed that they were nodding along with each statement.

Puri shook her head. “No. We are not so different.” She smiled. “I’m glad to know you, outlander.”

Brock winced. “Please, call me Brock.”

She smiled. “Okay, Brock.”

.   .   .

As they traveled southward, the forest growth thinned. When they camped for the second night, it was in a low wooded area near a creek. The surrounding country consisted of pines scattered among dry scrub that grew in the reddish dirt and rock pervading the hillsides.

Mid-morning the following day, they crested a low saddle to get a view of the land to the south, finding a canyon at the foot of surrounding mountains. Seeing made-made structures at the east end of the canyon, Ashland stared at it, trying to make sense of what it she saw. A tall brick wall ran across the canyon from north to the south. A road coming in from the west ran up to the gate in the center of the long wall. A handful of buildings occupied the interior of the compound, but nowhere near the number normally found in a city. People within the compound were moving about in single-file lines, going in and out of the shadows of the cliff that encapsulated the compound. Ashland had never seen anything like it.

“What is it?” Benny asked.

Puri shook her head. “I do not know. We are now well beyond Tantarri lands. I was instructed to look for an Empire road that runs along the coast and to take it eastward, but that is still miles south of here.”

Brock spoke, his brow furrowed. “It looks like a small city, but why is it so empty inside? Why such a large wall for so few buildings?”

Ashland thought the very same thing. It was an odd sight. She glanced about for answers but found nothing but shrugs and blank stares.

“This may be dangerous, Hitarri,” Puri said to the leader of their escort. “You’ll need to stay with us a bit longer. The road to Kalimar cannot be far.”

Hitarri nodded. “Yes, Puri.”

She raised a hand and waved them forward.

With Puri in the lead, the horses repeatedly turned in switchbacks as they made their descent. After fifteen minutes of steady decline, the ground began to level.

Ashland looked toward the wall spanning the width of the canyon, standing over two-stories tall. Men armed with bows patrolled the top of the wall. The gate opened, and a group of twenty men rode out on horseback. It was clear that the riders meant to intercept them when they reached the road.

Puri called out. “Be wary. We will flee west if they attack.” She turned toward Hitarri. “You must delay them so we can escape.”

Hitarri nodded, looking grim.

The approaching riders came to a stop and waited. As they neared the group, Ashland recognized one of the riders. A stab of fear struck when she realized who it was.

“Eldarro.” She heard Brock mutter.

Eldarro pointed, recognizing them. “You!” he exclaimed as he pointed toward Brock. “Get them!”

Puri shouted, “Go!”

Ashland thanked Issal that she had a firm grip on the saddle horn or she and Libby would have flown off the horse when it launched into a fierce gallop. Libby’s arms tightened about Ashland’s midsection as the horse shot across the open ground and onto the road heading west. Ashland glanced to the side to see Brock and Tipper riding beside her. Her head spun about, finding her other companions on her other side as they followed Puri on the lead horse. Craning her neck, Ashland glanced backward to see enemy riders and horses tumbling to the ground in a cloud of dust, Tantarri arrows sticking from them.

She turned to face forward as they sped down the gravel road, creating their own trail of dust. Without a doubt, this was the fastest Ashland had ever traveled. She prayed that the horses would hold out long enough for them to escape.

.   .   .

Ashland leaned into Brock, closing her eyes to enjoy the comfort of his embrace. She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes.

“What was that place?” she asked him.

He looked off toward the road, considering his response. “I’ve been thinking about that. It has walls like a city, but it’s too empty to be a city. Eldarro and those men rode out from it, so it has something to do with him. Varius mentioned sending me to a mine, and I think that’s what we saw.”

She nodded. It made sense. “For a mine, it sure has a lot of security.”

“True. Maybe what’s inside is valuable.” His brow furrowed in thought. “Or maybe the security is to keep the people working inside, like some sort of prison. A prison for Unchosen.”

Their eyes met, both thinking about what it meant. After a moment, Brock’s gaze shifted to the side. Ashland turned to see what had caught his attention and realized that Puri was returning. When she reached the small alcove where they had stopped, she had a grim look on her face.

“We cannot take the coastal road.” Puri said, shaking her head. “They have sent another group that way to cut us off. They are waiting just east of here.”

“If we follow the coast west, we’ll end up in Wayport,” Parker suggested. “From there, we could take a ship to Sol Polis.”

Brock nodded. “That’s true. It might cost more, but it should be just as fast as riding. Maybe faster.”

Puri’s face clouded. “A ship?”

“Do we have any other choice?” Ashland asked.

She looked toward the others, in search of a response. Everyone remained quiet.

Finally, Puri nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

She mounted her stallion, waving for others to do the same. Once they were all mounted, she led them from the alcove. When they reached the road, Puri kicked her horse into a gallop. Ashland was ready this time, holding on tight as her horse raced after Puri’s and headed toward the place she dreaded most.

CHAPTER 29

The sun was high overhead when Wayport came into view the following day. As they crested a small rise, Ashland looked upon the city tucked against the Sea of Fates. Though it appeared peaceful and innocent from here, she knew better.

They continued down the Greenway at a trot, through the heart of the valley that led to the port city. Like most coastal cities, a high brick wall surrounded Wayport. Scattered farms and other buildings dotted the countryside. By the time they approached the city gates, the road had grown thick with activity.

Ashland watched Parker’s horse pass hers as he made his way to the fore, beside Puri.

Parker turned and spoke aloud. “I’ve been here a number of times. If you’ll follow my lead, I can get us accommodations. It may take some time to locate a ship heading to Sol Polis.”

Brock nodded. “That would be great, Parker. Just let us know what to do.”

“Good.” Parker nodded. “First, let’s dismount and break into smaller groups. Horses are expensive and attract attention. A group this large will surely warrant notice.”

Puri gave a short whistle and the horses came to a stop. They dismounted, each rider standing beside their steed.

Brock addressed the group. “Lars, Benny, and Ashland will take their horses and follow Parker. Tipper and Libby can go with them since they have no horses. Cam, Puri, and I will keep a distance behind as we follow.”

Everyone nodded in confirmation. While Ashland preferred to stay with Brock, she could guess why he had placed her in separate group. She glanced back at him, noting his new rune. You should hide your rune. People will notice. He nodded and pulled the hood of his cloak up.

Parker turned toward Puri. “How do we lead the horses without a bridle?”

Puri smiled. “Just place your hand on Tallidad’s neck and begin walking. He will follow.”

Parker gave a shrug and placed his hand on the stallion’s neck, his horse shadowing him as he walked toward the gate. Ashland placed her hand on her mare’s neck and followed Parker into the city. As she passed through the gate, her stomach twisted in anxiety. After burying the dark years she had spent in Wayport, she could feel them clawing back to the surface.

.   .   .

The stable boy appeared confounded by horses lacking a bridle. After some stern instructions from Puri, he told her he understood how to treat the horses. Ashland glanced back at the boy as they walked away. He appeared bewildered as he watched the untethered horses chew on the provided hay. Ashland smiled, understanding his confusion. It was hard to believe that the horses wouldn’t wander off.

Parker opened the back door to the inn, holding it for the others as they entered. Ashland smiled as she stepped past him. They walked down a hallway and past the stairs that led to the upper levels. The hallway brought them to a taproom, currently occupied by the lunch crowd. With half of the tables still open, it wasn’t difficult to locate a long table that could seat the group. Ashland slid onto a bench next to Brock, who still had his hood up. With both long benches full, Parker grabbed a chair and set it at the head of the table before taking a seat.

Moments later, an older woman with graying brown hair approached. “Hello. Welcome to Gulley’s Inn. I’m Charlotte, but you can call me Char. What can I get for you?”

Parker took the lead. “We need four rooms, with one of them large enough for three. We will also need meals for the nine of us.”

Char began counting on her fingers, calculating the cost. “That will be two silvers and two coppers per day, but ale will cost you extra.”

Parker nodded. “Done.” He turned toward Benny. “Benny, please pay the woman. Give her some extra to cover the ale.”

Benny had a pained look on his face as he pulled out his coin purse. He handed the woman three silvers before flashing Parker a bitter look.

Char pocketed the coins, smiling. “I’ll be right back with some roasted lamb and potatoes.”

When she stepped away, Parker leaned close and spoke to the group. “After we eat, Benny and I will search for a ship bound for Sol Polis that can accommodate us.”

Benny winced. “I get the feeling that this little trip is going to cost me.”

Brock laughed. “It’s not our fault that you’re the one with all the gold.”

The pained look resurfaced on Benny’s face. “I earned my gold through hard work.”

“What?” Brock replied. “You earned most of it by placing bets on us in last year’s arena duels. The rest was from an invention that we helped you build and test.”

“Well, I guess I didn’t have any plans for it anyway.” Benny said, sounding dejected.

Ashland smiled. It felt good to have this friendly banter surrounding her.

The banter continued throughout their meal. Once finished, Parker and Benny departed on their mission to find transportation. The rest of the group followed Char upstairs to settle into the rooms they had rented.

Tipper and Libby took the first room. Ashland smiled as she watched Puri pull Cam into the next room. The third room they came to was larger, with three beds.

Brock turned to Lars. “Go ahead and take this room to share with Benny and Parker. We’ll take the last one.”

Lars nodded, dropping his pack and plopping onto the nearest bed.

Char led them up another set of stairs to the room at the end of the third-story hallway. She opened the door and let them inside before giving them a smile and pulling the door closed

Ashland looked around the small room, finding it furnished with a vanity and a bed large enough for two. Brock crossed the room and pulled the curtain back to look out the window. The view faced south, toward the bay. Streaks of bright aqua blue glowed within the darker blue waters of the sea. The white sails of ships crossing the bay were bright in the sunlight. Gulls circled above, in search of food over the busy docks. One thing spoiled the amazing view, the one thing that drew Ashland’s attention. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check as she stared at the Wayport Temple.

.   .   .

The group chatted in friendly conversation as they waited for dinner to be served. Ashland ran her hand through her hair, which was now almost dry. Like most of the others, she had seized the opportunity to bathe during the afternoon. It felt good to be clean again. She had begun to smell a bit too much like a horse for her own liking.

As the others talked, she attempted to remain engaged, to stay in the present. However, she could feel her dark past lingering like a shadow just beyond view. Brock asked her what was wrong, but she shrugged it off. She should have known he would see it, despite her attempt to hide her discomfort. The sooner they were away from the city, the better.

When she saw Parker approaching with a smile on his face, hope bloomed inside of her. He plopped into the chair at the end the table and addressed the group.

“I’ve good news. We’ve found a ship that can take us. We leave at noon tomorrow.”

Lars clapped Parker on the back. “Good news! I knew you were the man for the job.”

Benny slid onto the bench opposite from Lars. “Yeah. Great,” he grumbled.

Brock put an arm around Benny. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you glad to be on our way?”

The pained look reappeared on Benny’s face. “Yeah, but it cost so much.”

Lars leaned in. “How much?”

When Benny didn’t respond, Parker grinned, “Two gold Imperials.”

While Lars whistled, Ashland winced. That was a lot of money.

Parker spoke again. “The price includes passage and food for the horses. Unfortunately, we are limited to two cabins, so we’ll need to squeeze a bit. If we can get out of here safely, I think we can endure cramped quarters for three days.”

Brock nodded. “Good job, indeed. Thanks for making this happen, guys.” Brock clapped Benny on the shoulder. “Sorry about the gold, Benny. I’m sure you’ll come up with some scheme that will make you rich again.”

Benny nodded, a small smile sneaking out. Ashland expected that spending the money didn’t hurt Benny as much as he let on.

Char approached the table with a tray filled with tankards of ale. She passed the drinks out to the group before retreating to fetch their dinner.

Brock held his mug high. “Let’s toast to Benny and Parker. Thanks for getting us a ship, guys. We’re off to Sol Polis tomorrow.”

Mugs tapped each other over the table as the group toasted to the two boys. Ashland felt a spike of joy. She was happy to be leaving the city.

.   .   .

After a long night of tossing and turning, Ashland felt relieved when she saw light coming through the window. She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Brock as she dressed. Using the washcloth and small bowl of water on the vanity, she quickly washed. Rather than attempt to tame her curly locks, she pulled her hair into a bun and slipped out the door.

When she descended the stairs, the dining room was empty other than Char, who sat at a table looking over some papers. As Ashland approached, the woman glanced up and smiled.

“Good morning, dear. I hope you slept well.”

“Good morning, Char.” Ashland gave a brief smile. “Actually, I slept horribly. It’s not the bed; it’s…just something that’s been bothering me.”

“Oh my, dear.” She pointed to the chair across from her. “Please sit. We can talk about it if you like. Sometimes it helps to get it out.”

Ashland sat across the table from the old woman, trying to gather her courage. She swallowed hard and forced herself to explain how she felt.

“There’s something…something I dread. I feel helpless about it and am afraid to even think about it. Being here, in this city, makes it worse. I don’t know what to do.”

The old woman’s kind eyes stared at Ashland before giving a nod.

Char reached out, taking Ashland’s hand. “Gulley was my husband. He bought this place over thirty years ago. It was run down back then, but he fixed it up and built a good business. Three years later, he died. His heart just gave up on him. He was a big man with a big heart, but apparently not a strong one.”

She leaned back, her eyes distant. “When he died, I was lost. I had always relied on him. He ran the business, bought our supplies, set our prices, and managed the money. All I had done was serve tables. I’m marked with the rune for the job, but I didn’t know what to do, so I closed the inn down.” She sat upright. “After a month of wallowing in pity, I made a decision. I didn’t want to be the victim.” She shook her head. “I decided that I couldn’t let Gulley down. I was stronger than that. He had given me the tools to succeed, laying out how everything needed to be done. I just needed to take charge and make it work. Now, here I am, thirty years later still running this inn and making a good living. In a couple years, I will sell it and retire in a nice little home near the city, not having to work another day in my life.” She smiled at the thought.

Ashland smiled back. Char was right. She had the tools she needed. It was time to address her fears and stop being the victim.

CHAPTER 30

Ashland took a calming breath and entered the temple. Though the morning air was warming outside, it remained cool inside the brick building. Rows of benches surrounded the dais located in the heart of the large space. Colored shapes of light shone brightly upon the walls as sunlight streamed through the stained glass panels of the dome above.

Since it was still early, the building was empty. Patrons would soon arrive to pray and to give offerings to Issal, but for now, it was peaceful and quiet. Ashland stopped before the glowstone altar and closed her eyes for a moment of reflection.

“Can I help you, child?” A voice came from behind, a voice she recognized immediately.

She turned to face the man. “Hello, Uncle Tyrin.”

The man’s brow lifted in surprise. “Ashland!” He stepped closer. “My favorite niece and pupil has returned. How are you?”

Tyrin looked much the same as she remembered. Graying curly brown hair puffed at the sides of his head, although the top was bald. His narrow face accentuated the graying brown mustache draped below a large nose. Although the man had a lean build, he stood a head taller than Ashland. His long, wiry frame held more strength than one would guess. Of that, she knew well.

“I’m with some friends, visiting the city for a few days.” she replied. “I thought I would stop by the temple while I was here.”

Tyrin’s eyes scanned her again. “I do not see an Academy cloak upon you. Were you not able to get in, then?”

Ashland shrugged. “I did get in, but it didn’t last. I’ll not be an Academy Master after all.”

His eyes narrowed, his lips drawing a thin line. “Perhaps we should adjourn to my apartment to discuss this further.”

Not waiting for a response, he grabbed her wrist and led her toward the rear of the temple with his purple cloak billowing behind. Ashland’s heart was thumping and her vision a bit unstable as she dug deep for the sense of resolve that she had found when she decided this course.

They exited the temple and entered the adjacent apartments. Tyrin opened the door to his room, waving her in. She stepped inside, not surprised to find the room looking much the same as she remembered. It did seem a bit smaller now though. For that matter, so did he. She realized how much her perspective had changed in the past three years. There was a time when this city, this temple, and this man were all she knew.

The man stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders. “What did you do? If you got in, why are you not at the Academy?”

She looked him in the eye, feeling anger stirring with the fear inside. “I decided that I’ll not be a party to their lies. Much like you, the Ministry hides cruelty and deceit behind a thin veil of pure intentions.”

The man’s expression changed, hardening. He released her shoulder, his open hand flying toward her face. When it stopped short, he looked down to find her arm blocking his. Rage lit in his eyes as he shouted at her.

“Why do you resist me? You know what it will get you!”

“I’ll bend to your will no longer, Tyrin.” Ashland was firm. “You are wrong to abuse your position like this, using Issal’s name as a shield while inflicting pain on others. It is evil, Tyrin. Promise me you’ll stop, and Issal might forgive you.”

Anger clouded the man’s face. “How dare you!”

His fist flashed toward her, stopping in her palm.

His eyes grew large. “How?”

Tyrin screamed as she squeezed his hand, bones crunching and snapping as blood squirted between her fingers. He fell to his knees and she let go, turning and stepping away from him.

Ashland could hear him whimpering behind her. Not having the stomach for cruelty, she took a breath to steady herself. Closing her eyes, she recalled memories long buried. She could picture her ten-year-old self, sent to him so that he could be her guide and guardian. He took that trust and twisted it. Behind a fake smile and smooth words, he had used fear and violence to control her. That fear now fueled Ashland’s anger for what he had done; for the years of happiness that Tyrin had denied her.

Hearing him move behind her, she spun about as he struck at her with a cold fire iron, the same fire iron that he had used countless times to burn her for little reason. Her hand flashed up, snatched the iron from the air, and yanked it from his grip. She tossed the iron aside, driving it through the thick wooden door. She twisted and slammed her boot heel through his knee. Tyrin screamed in pain and collapsed to the floor, his eyes wide with fear as he stared up at Ashland. She stood over her tormentor, telling herself it was about justice and not revenge.

With her heart pounding in her ears, Ashland stared down at her tormenter. He lay curled into a ball, clutching his ruined hand to his chest and crying like a baby as blood pooled beneath his destroyed knee.

“For six years, I suffered as you stole every bit of joy from my life.” Ashland spoke with the heat of anger at the thought. “I was a child, Tyrin, and you were to train me and take care of me, not beat me upon every misstep. With my actions, I sentence you to the life you deserve, knowing what it’s like to be crippled by fear and pain.”

Her gaze flashed to the door as it burst open. Master Herrin and Minister Jerrold stepped into the room.

Herrin looked down at Tyrin then up to Ashland. “What happened?” the old man asked, sounding horrified. “What have you done to him?”

Calmly, Ashland replied, “I’ve done what you cowards should have done long ago. I’ve ended his reign of tyranny. He’ll hurt others no longer.”

When she attempted to walk past the two ministers. Jerrold made the mistake of trying to stop her. With a flick of her wrist, she slammed the big man against the heavy wooden door and he crumpled onto the floor, unconscious.

Her eyes flashed toward Herrin, who backed away in fright. “Go on and heal him, Herrin, just like you healed me countless times after Tyrin went too far.” She stepped closer to him as the larger man cowered in fear. “You’re as bad as him, you know. You knew what was happening and did nothing to stop it.”

After staring at him a moment longer, she turned and stepped over the prone form of Minister Jerrold. She paused at the door to look back at Herrin. “Like I said, go ahead and heal Tyrin. He won’t ever be the same, though.”

Ashland walked down the hallway and into the temple, looking down at her hand as she walked toward the exit. She’d have to wash the blood away, along with the Power rune she’d drawn on the other hand.

Ashland stepped out into the sunlight and paused atop the stairs. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. When she opened them, she began descending the stairs before stopping abruptly. Her eyes locked with Eldarro’s, who was standing just two steps below. The recognition in his eyes instantly turned from surprise to anger.

He lunged out, his hand gripping her arm. As he pulled her toward him, she braced her feet against the steps and pushed against his chest. Her Chaos-charged strength launched the much larger man backward, causing him to smash into the armed men who were following close behind. The six guards in the vanguard took the brunt of the impact and tumbled to the ground.

Ashland leapt from the stairs, hurdling the entire group to land in the street. She dashed off, weaving her way through the crowd. Careful not to hit anyone for fear of injuring them with her chaotic strength, she wiggled her way through and darted into the first alley. Shouting sounded from the street behind her as she bolted down the narrow corridor.

Emerging from the other end, Ashland pulled her hood up and melted into the foot traffic of the busy street. Keeping pace with the flow of people around her, she resisted the urge to look backward, hoping that her plain gray cloak would blend in with the foot traffic surrounding her. Two blocks later, she made another turn and felt a surge of relief when Gulley’s Inn came into view. She glanced backward just before reaching the building. Not seeing her pursuers, she stepped to the door and entered the inn.

Ashland crossed the taproom and pulled her hood down as she approached the table where her friends sat eating breakfast. Her eyes caught Brock’s, his smile melting when he saw her expression.

“What happened?” Brock asked.

“It’s Eldarro. He’s here with some men,” she replied, her heart still pounding from the encounter.

Brock stood to approach her. “Are you hurt? Do you need healing?”

She glanced down at her bloody hand. “No. It’s fine. I’m not harmed.”

Parker stood and addressed the group. “Our plans have changed. We leave now. Get your things and meet at the stable in five minutes.”

As the others stood and made their way for the stairs, Brock stepped closer. Ashland looked into his eyes, still seeing concern.

“You’re not telling me everything,” he said, taking her non-bloody hand. He looked down at it, clearly noting the rune drawn on it.

Ashland grew angry. “Leave it be, Brock. I don’t want to talk about it.” She paused, calming a bit when she realized that he was trying to help. “I just needed…I needed to deal with something from my past. The rune was necessary for my protection. It also enabled me to escape from Eldarro.”

Brock stared into her eyes before nodding. “Just as long as you’re okay.”

He gave her a smile, which she mirrored, feeling thankful that he didn’t press further. Ashland believed that what she had done was necessary, but it was horrible at the same time. She didn’t want to talk about it. In fact, she now found that she wanted to forget the whole incident.

CHAPTER 31

Cam watched Puri as she waited for the horses to cross the planks from the dock into the hold of the ship. She appeared to ignore the onlookers, staring at the animals entering the ship without the use of a bridle to guide them. The faces of surrounding sailors and dockworkers reflected everything from confusion to curiosity. When the last horse crossed, the sailors pulled the planks and secured the cargo door. The sailors then set the planks to run from the pier to the ship’s deck to allow Cam and his companions to board.

Having spent a fair amount of his early years on the ships at the docks at Nor Torin, Cam experienced a thrill when he stepped on board, feeling as if he had now remembered a part of him that he’d forgotten. While his older brothers were busy loading ships, Cam would often play on board, pretending he was a famous captain or a pirate. Sometimes the ship captains allowed him to remain aboard for short day runs in the area. However, he had never actually been out to open sea. A smile crossed his face as he looked out at the sunlit blue waters.

He turned toward the planks, ready to help the others step aboard. Benny’s face reflected the excitement that Cam felt; Tipper’s did as well. Brock, Ashland, Lars, and Libby appeared merely curious. Parker was nonchalant as ever, but that could be expected since he had sailed numerous times before. However, the look on Puri’s face was different. If Cam didn’t know better, he’d swear the strong-willed woman’s eyes showed fear.

Her hand gripped his firmly as she stepped onto the deck. With her aboard, the captain called for his crew to pull the planks and ready the ship.

While the others made their way to the bow, hugging the rail as they looked on in expectation, Cam and Puri lingered behind.

“Are you okay?” Cam asked, concerned.

Puri looked at him, her eyes flashing anger. “Of course. Why would I not be okay?”

Cam shrugged. “Well, I assume you’ve never been on a ship before. It’s a new thing, and sometimes new things are scary.”

She shook her head. “Nonsense. It’s not that it’s new. It’s just unnatural,” she replied. “Men and horses were meant to be on land, not water. That’s why we have feet and hooves and not fins.”

Cam nodded, expecting that she was afraid but wouldn’t admit it. He liked Puri, but she still confused him. Tegan had confused him as well. Glancing toward the bow, he saw Brock at the rail with one arm around Ashland. Cam felt a pang a jealousy. Those two seemed to have a special connection. It must be because Brock understood women. Maybe he should have Brock explain them to him.

The captain shouted, and a sailor began to coil the thick rope that had held them to the mooring. The ship began to drift from the long wooden pier, turning toward the open water.

The captain called out again “To your marks!”

Cam watched as two men began to scramble up the foremast near the bow of the ship. He turned to find others scaling the rigging on the main mast and mizzenmast. Other men scurried around the deck, getting into position and grabbing lines.

The captain bellowed again. “Unfurl the courses! Let go the clew lines! Let go the buntlines! Sheet the sail!”

The men above worked with precision as the lowest sail on each mast expanded to a white sheet, rippling in the breeze. They then climbed to a higher position in the rigging, ready for the next sail as the captain’s voice called out again.

“Unfurl lower topsails! Let go the clews! Let go the buntlines! Sheet the sail!”

After unfurling the lower topsails, the men climbed even higher.

“Unfurl upper topsails! Hoist the yards! Let go the downhauls!”

Craning his neck, Cam watched the upper topsail rising along with the long wooden pole that held it. Once in place, the men climbed to the very top of the rigging. Once more, the captain called out.

“Unfurl topgallant sails! Hoist the yards! Let go the downhauls!”

With all sails ready and waffling loosely, the men shot down the rigging to return to the deck. The crew on the deck pulled lines tight, securing them to cleats on the deck and rails. Cam turned toward the stern to see the captain standing on the quarterdeck. The man nodded and said something to the short blonde woman who stood at the wheel.

The ship turned again. The sails above rippled loudly until snapping full.

They picked up speed, and the pier behind them began shrinking into the distance.

Cam smiled. He had always liked sailing and the rush he felt from it. He looked toward Puri, who looked even worse than before. The bow rose up as the ship left the calm of the harbor, hitting the breakers just beyond. He smiled again at the rush.

He looked at Puri, happy to share this experience with her. Her tanned face turned white and she ran to the rail. He waited for her to finish retching before approaching her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

Anger flashed in her eyes. “I’m not weak.”

Cam’s brow furrowed. “I can’t imagine anyone ever thinking you’re weak.”

The anger in her eyes seemed to cool. She nodded. “I just don’t like being ill. We Tantarri are taught to be strong.”

Cam’s hand cupped her shoulder. “Trust me. We all know that you’re strong. Anyone can get seasick. It’s not a choice. You just need some time to get used to the ocean and then you’ll feel better.”

Her dark brown eyes locked with his in a moment of tension. Cam hoped that she saw his sincerity. When she gave a brief nod, Cam smiled.

The ship suddenly dipped low, rising high before dropping low again. Cam saw Puri’s face whiten further as her eyes grew wide. She leaned over the rail, emptying the remaining contents from her stomach.

“Welcome aboard.”

Cam turned to find a tall man crossing the deck toward them. The man wore a red leather vest over a tan long-sleeve shirt that was cinched at his waist by a thick black leather belt. Serving dual-purpose, the belt also supported the dark brown trousers that were tucked into his black leather boots. A black brimmed hat covered the majority of his brown hair and a single white plume jutted up from the hat, dancing in the wind like a miniature feathered sail. His short-trimmed dark beard framed a handsome face with enough lines to show that he was much older than Cam.

Holding out a hand, the man introduced himself. “Well, met. I’m Captain Sinclair.” He smiled as Cam shook his hand. “Welcome aboard Star Dancer.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m Cameron.” Cam looked over at Puri, who seemed to have recovered somewhat. “This is Puri.”

Sinclair took Puri’s hand, bowing as he kissed it. “Welcome aboard. It’s a pleasure to have such an exotic beauty on my ship,” he said with a smile as he looked her up and down.

Puri’s eyes narrowed. “I am not a toy. I am a warrior. If you or any of your men try to touch me, you will regret it,” she said, in a fierce tone.

Sinclair held his hand up. “Sorry. I meant no offense.”

“Sinclair!”

Cam turned to see Parker approaching.

“Thank you for launching early,” Parker said as he shook the man’s hand.

Sinclair smiled. “Thank you for the extra silver marks. We were already loaded, so leaving early was of little inconvenience.”

Parker nodded toward the others as they gathered around him. “Would you mind showing us to our cabins so we can get settled?”

With a nervous glance toward Puri, Sinclair responded.

“Yes. Come along, then,” he said, waving them to follow as he headed for the stairs.

Cam looked at Puri, who continued to stare daggers at the flamboyant captain’s back.

He cleared his throat and spoke to her. “I think you scared him.”

She looked at him, hopeful. “Do you think so?”

Cam nodded, which earned him a smile. “Okay, then. Let’s go check out our cabins.”

Cam followed her toward the steps, deciding he’d never understand women.

CHAPTER 32

Gulls overhead circled in search of fish driven by the ship cutting through the deep blue salt water. Sweat beading on Cam’s brow cooled and dried by the swift ocean breeze. The deck below his feet rose and fell with the rhythm of the waves.

Though the crew of Star Dancer watched in silence, Cam ignored them and everything else. Losing focus could result in a lost limb or even a quick death.

He held his sword low, ready to counter. The attack came, forcing him to spin beneath and to swing low at his enemy’s legs. He rose to block, countering again with a quick strike to take out another enemy. Twisting, he dodged an attack before spinning with a backhand slash followed by a slash at a foe on his other side.

Another enemy dove into the fray and Cam turned to parry before slicing with a return strike. His foe went down, instantly replaced by another. On and on they came at him and fell to the might of his blade.

“You’re holding the tip too low when you pause.”

He turned to find Puri emerging from the stairs. Her eyes drifted to his bare torso, with a coat of sweat gleaming in the sun.

“What?” he asked.

She smiled, stepping closer as he lowered his blade. “Holding your blade low might be easier on your wrists, but being lazy is a good way to die.”

Cam’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

In a flash, she had her blade free from the baldric on her back and held it before him.

“You should hold your blade higher, like this. That way, you have coiled energy in your wrist and are always ready to strike.”

Cam nodded. What she said made sense. He lifted his sword, matching her pose.

Puri smiled. “Good.”

He dodged as her sword flashed past; close enough to feel the moving air against his shoulder. Spinning, he prepared for another attack.

She smiled again, holding her sword ready. She slashed at his mid-section, which he blocked, the clang of the swords striking ringing loudly in his ears. Her blade twisted to slash at his other side, which he also blocked. He sliced upward toward her, but she spun away with her sword coming around, leveled at his neck. Ducking, he lunged with a thrust that she twisted around as she spun about to face him again. Puri attacked with a series of swift slashes. Despite her repeated attempts, he blocked each before jumping backward to create space.

With both of them breathing hard, they stared into each other’s eyes. She had a slight edge on speed, much like Brock. He knew that he had an edge on strength. If he wanted to beat her, he needed to use that strength to his advantage. Just as he worked out a strategy, she lowered her sword and smiled.

“That was fun. You are not bad for an outlander.”

Confused, Cam lowered his sword. “Um…thanks.”

He turned toward the sound of applause and found Sinclair approaching as he clapped soundly. The other sailors who’d been watching echoed Sinclair, clapping heartily until Sinclair held his hand up to still them.

“That was quite a performance,” Sinclair said. “I’ve not had such skilled duelists aboard my ship before. It was truly a treat to watch.” He gave a low bow before turning toward Puri. “You are a most skilled warrior, Miss Puri.”

Puri’s eyes narrowed at Sinclair and she responded with a brief nod.

Sinclair redirected his attention to Cam. “When I first saw you practicing with the sword, I thought that perhaps it was just for show. After your fierce exchange, I can see that you are indeed a force, Mister Cameron.”

Cam nodded. “Thanks, Captain.”

Sinclair smiled, patting Cam on the shoulder as he walked past him on his way to the cabin below the quarterdeck.

Cam’s eyes glanced up to the small woman guiding the ship. She nodded to him when their eyes met. It surprised him that the captain entrusted someone so young with steering the large vessel. He spotted Parker and Benny in deep discussion at the rail behind her.

When his gaze returned to Puri, she was sheathing her long curved sword.

Cam nodded toward the weapon as he sheathed his own. “The Tantarri seem to favor that type of sword. I’m not familiar with it.”

Puri’s eyebrow raised in surprised. “The sabre? You don’t have this weapon in your lands?”

Cam shrugged. “Not that I’ve seen.”

Puri shrugged in response. “It is the sword I know; designed for quick strikes and excellent for slashing. It works quite well when we are riding.”

Cam reflected on her statement as he bent to retrieve his shirt. It was easy to imagine how the light single-handed weapon would be effective from atop a horse. When he looked in her direction, Puri was again openly leering at his bare torso. Feeling a flush of embarrassment, he pulled his shirt over his head.

He suddenly realized that she appeared to be feeling better. Now two days into their journey, Puri had spent almost the entire time in the cabin she shared with Libby and Ashland.

“You look like you’ve recovered,” he noted.

“Yes. I feel much better,” she said, nodding. “I see two of your companions, but where are the others?”

“I believe that Lars is taking a nap,” Cam replied. “Brock, Ashland, Tipper, and Libby went somewhere to practice Chaos runes.” Cam replied.

“Chaos?”

“I think it’s what you call lost magic,” he replied.

Her brow raised. “The others can use the lost magic?”

Cam nodded as he began walking toward the quarterdeck. “Yes. Brock thinks it’ll be important for them to learn. Ashland’s already quite good, but Tipper and Libby are new to it.”

He climbed the six steps to the quarterdeck with Puri following.

“Hi, Cam.” Benny smiled.

“For a minute, I thought she was trying to kill you down there,” Parker said.

“You outlanders know nothing,” Puri replied as she reached the deck. “If I wanted him dead, he’d be dead already.”

Cam tried to determine if she was joking, but she appeared serious.

Benny and Parker laughed, deciding it was a joke. After laughing a moment, Benny spoke.

“Tenzi here was explaining how the ship uses the wind for sailing. It’s quite interesting.”

“Tenzi?” Cam asked.

The short woman steering the ship turned, giving a small bow before turning back to the wheel.

“Did you know that the ship can’t sail directly against the wind?” Benny’s excitement showed as he spoke. “Instead, they have to go at an angle, turning frequently if they are running a coarse into the wind.”

Parker nodded, as if it were obvious.

Cam nodded as well. “I know a bit of how it works. I’ve spent a fair amount of time on ships in Nor Torin’s harbor.”

Puri grumbled. “I still think it’s unnatural. Men were not meant to be on the water.”

Tenzi turned, addressing the taller woman. “Sailing is the most natural thing there is. It’s a dance on the ocean with the wind as your partner.” She sounded bemused as she spoke. “To sail, you must embrace the mother wind, bending to her will as she propels you across the sea.”

Puri stared down at the other woman. “Well, that’s fine as long as she propels you across the sea and not into it.”

CHAPTER 33

Brock climbed the steps from their cabins onto the empty foredeck. Above the bow, the eastern sky glowed as it prepared to welcome the sun. He glanced backward, seeing Ashland’s gorgeous face glowing in the pre-dawn light. The wind blew her curly brown hair back, making it look a bit wild. She flashed him a smile, which he returned.

Grabbing her hand, he pulled her toward the bow. They latched onto the rail as the ship rose and fell in time with the waves below. This was their last chance to watch the breaking dawn together before the voyage ended.

Having grown up along the west coast, Brock had seen the sun set into the ocean waters countless times. Until this voyage, he’d never seen the sun rise up from the ocean. The previous two mornings, he and Ashland had risen before the others to watch the sunrise together. Unlike the previous dawns, today they could see the silhouette of land against the brightening horizon.

Minutes later, a sliver of light edged over the mass of land far to their east. The sliver soon evolved into a ball of fire floating low above the horizon. As the sun rose into the heavens, the coast ahead began to take shape.

In the distance, tall towers jutted into the sky above the city of Sol Polis. The city spread out along the coast, unable to remain captive within the walls that had attempted to define it. Brock had heard that the capital was big, but it he hadn’t expected it to be this large. Sol Polis appeared bigger than Kantar and Nor Torin combined

The harbor was already teeming with life as smaller craft set sail to the north and south, hugging the coastline. Two ships the size of Star Dancer launched, their sails being unfurled as they drifted from the pier.

Brock glanced toward Ashland, who looked radiant in the bright light of the rising sun. He heart leapt every time their eyes met. I love you. He thought to her.

I know. How could you not love me? She replied, cracking a smile.

He laughed, turning toward the city that was their destination. Despite the low odds of their quest succeeding, he felt confident. With Ashland by his side, he felt as if he could do anything and the odds became irrelevant. Of course, he was quite happy to have the support of his friends as well.

As the ship closed the distance to the docks, others from their group began to join them. When Sinclair called the men to their marks to lower the sails, Brock’s companions were all at the bow and eager to dock.

As the sails were drawn, the ship slowed. By the time all sails were furled and secured, the ship was less than a hundred feet from the pier. A man ran along the long dock, waving a flag as he neared an open mooring. Sinclair called out orders, and Tenzi steered the ship toward the designated berth. Men along the rail tossed thick lines to workers on the pier. With the lines secured to the thick posts rising above the dock, Tenzi turned the ship to slow the last bit until the secured ropes pulled tight. After straining on the ropes for a moment, the ship relented and settled into its mooring.

Sinclair resumed barking out orders, sending the sailors scurrying about the ship. Seeing Sinclair crossing the deck toward them, Brock pulled his hood up over his head. He’d been careful to keep his new rune out of sight during the voyage. It was something he would have to remain mindful of in the future.

Parker took two strides as he greeted Sinclair with an extended hand. “Good morning, captain. True to your word, you got us here safely and on schedule.”

Sinclair took Parker’s hand and gave a deep bow. “T’was my pleasure good sirs and pretty lasses.”

The man was smooth with his words. A little too smooth for Brock’s liking.

“My men will have the ship ready for you and your mounts to disembark in moments,” Sinclair said. “You should retrieve your things so you are ready to depart.” He followed the words with a small bow and spun to retreat across the deck.

Parker turned to the group. “You heard him. Let’s get our things and get off this ship. Once the horses are unloaded, we’ll head into the city.”

They followed Parker, descending the stairwell leading to their cabins. The six boys crammed into their tight quarters, collecting their items from the six bunks. Brock stepped out into the narrow hall, pausing to wait for the girls to exit the room next door. When they returned to the deck, they found that planks had been set for them to cross to the pier.

After the sailors opened the cargo doors and set planks for the horses, Puri blasted a loud whistle. Her white stallion poked his head out the door and crossed the planks to where she waited. Shortly after, the other six horses followed across and down the pier as Puri escorted the animals to shore.

Sinclair watched the process, shaking his head in wonder. He turned toward Parker, still shaking his head.

“I’ve heard stories about the Tantarri, but I always thought them to be exaggeration. I now believe that they may have been understated. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Parker smiled. “Yeah. It makes for interesting travel.” He shook Sinclair’s hand. “Thanks for the hospitality and the safe passage.”

Sinclair smiled, bowing his head slightly. “Thank you for the gold. It made the trip one of profit where we would have otherwise merely broken even.”

As the group began walking toward shore, Sinclair called out. “We’ll be here for a few days. Come see me if you need passage back to Wayport!”

Brock was happy to be back on solid land. He didn’t hate the sea, but he didn’t like being trapped in such a small space for three days. The smooth way that Sinclair spoke also irritated Brock, making him feel as if the man was trying to sell him a bird promised to lay eggs of gold.

After traversing the length of the long pier to the dockyards, they came upon Puri and the horses. She stood in the middle of the small herd, speaking quietly before emerging to address Parker.

“You must find us a place with food and water for the horses. The access they had on the ship was limited, and they are hungry.”

Not even showing surprise at Puri’s statement, Parker nodded and waved for the group to follow. The brick storage buildings along the waterfront soon gave way to tightly packed houses lining the road. People and carts filled the street, traveling in and out of the city. After a few hundred feet, they passed through the west gate and into the walled portion of Sol Polis.

The streets inside were even busier, bustling with activity. In fact, every street in this city seemed to be as busy as the busiest street in Kantar. Within minutes, Brock caught site of four different steam carriages. After seeing two others in his entire life, four in such proximity seemed amazing. He wondered how many others there were within the city.

The shops and homes inside the walls appeared larger and in better condition than those at the outskirts. Brock’s gaze drifted beyond the nearby buildings to land on the cylindrical towers of the citadel, which reached toward the morning sky. The citadel was located in the heart Sol Polis, similar to Nor Torin. Unlike Nor Torin’s squat rectangular design, this citadel resided upon a hill and had a gloriously elegant appearance.

Distracted by the beauty of the citadel, Brock realized that he had fallen behind the others. He hurried along, careful to keep his hood over his head as he searched the crowded street. When he spotted Cameron’s blonde hair above the throng of people, he weaved through the crowd and caught up to the group as they entered a narrow alley.

Parker led them into a gated yard just off the alley. A walking path cut through the yard, passing a stable as it led to a large three-story house. A boy a few years younger than Brock emerged from the stable, whose wide doors were hanging open.

“Welcome back, Master Parker,” the boy said before addressing the group. “Hello everyone. I’m Niles. I’m here to care for your horses. Welcome to the Thanes Household.”

Parker clapped the boy’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Niles. We’ll be staying for a few days. Please care well for our steeds.”

Niles smiled as he pocketed the silver Parker handed him. “Yes, sir!”

He stepped toward the first horse, confusion crossing his face. “Um. Where’s the bridle?”

Puri loomed over the boy, looking serious. “They are never to be bridled. Do you hear me?”

Niles backed away, nervous. “Yes. Sorry. I just haven’t seen a horse without a bridle before now.”

Parker stepped between them. “It’s okay, Niles. If you want the horse to follow you, just put your hand against its neck, like this.”

Parker placed his hand on the horse’s neck and began walking with the horse in tow.

Niles smiled, nodding. “Okay. No bridles. Got it.”

Cam stepped close to Puri, whispering something in her ear. Her look softened and she nodded.

Niles put his hand on one horse, leading it to another and walked both toward the stable. The other horses followed behind, causing the lad to giggle.

Parker clapped his hands. “Okay, then. Let’s go inside and get some food. Cam is starving.” He flashed a grin at Cam.

Lars and Benny burst out laughing as they followed Parker into the house.

PART III

THE BREAKING STORM

CHAPTER 34

Parker Thanes had mixed feelings about returning home. While he had never been close to his Father, Parker had never outright defied him either. His mid-year departure from the Academy had changed things. After years of dreaming about living his own life rather than the one his father defined, Parker had finally done it. Since coming to the decision to flee the school with Brock and others, he had enjoyed every moment, feeling free for the first time. However, in returning to Sol Polis, he would have to face the consequences of his decision.

When he led his friends into the building, he found Agatha in the kitchen. After a moment of shock at seeing him unexpectedly, she greeted him warmly and set to making a meal for the visitors. Parker was confident that she was up to the task, having dealt with large groups of surprise guests countless times during her tenure as the household cook.

Passing through the other kitchen door, he led his friends to the dining room, urging them to seat themselves around the large table while he exited the dining room and headed toward the study. A smile lit upon Parker’s face. Here was a man he was quite happy to see.

“Hi Pockets,” Parker announced. “I’m back.”

The man spun about to face Parker. True to his name, he had one hand tucked into a pocket of his long black coat. The other adjusted his rounded spectacles as he focused on Parker. The man’s bushy gray eyebrows furrowed briefly before a smile spread across his rounded face.

“Master Parker! You’re back.”

Parker crossed the room to shake the man’s hand. “Thanks, Pockets. I believe I just said that, though.”

“Well, yes, sir. I believe you are correct.” The man nodded. “However, must you continue to call me Pockets?”

“Sorry, Pinkus. I’ll try to remember.” Parker smiled, knowing that the name irritated the man. “Is he around?”

Pinkus shook his head, the sunlight from the window reflecting on his bald pate. “No sir. He’s at the citadel, not due back until this evening.”

Parker felt relieved to have a few more hours before he had to confront his father. Perhaps the extra time would help him determine the best approach.

“In that case, I want you to come and meet my friends.”

“Friends, sir?” Pinkus asked. “You brought others?” He escorted Parker from the study.

Rather than respond, Parker crossed the receiving area and opened the door to the dining room. He stepped inside, holding it for Pinkus as he watched the man’s face.

The room was abuzz with conversation. His companions quieted when they noticed the newcomer at the door. Pinkus’ eyes grew wide, blinking a few times before he recovered.

“Welcome to the Thanes Household.” He bowed to the room. “I’m Pinkus, Master Thanes’ manservant.”

Parker introduced the group and Pinkus nodded with each introduction.

“We need a place to stay while in the city, Pinkus,” Parker added. “I was hoping to stay here. Assuming that father will take us on, can you prepare rooms for us?”

Pinkus nodded. “It would be my pleasure, Master Parker.”

As the man exited through one door, Agatha entered through the other with a large tray filled with food. The smell was wonderful and Parker’s mouth began to water. After three days on a ship, a cooked meal would be a treat. He just hoped that his father would take the news well, or they would have to find another place to stay.

.   .   .

With the others safe in their rooms, Parker descended the stairs to the main level. Resigned to the task, he stepped into the study to wait for his father. His timing was perfect, hearing the man enter through the kitchen just moments later. Parker scooped up the glowlamp from his father’s desk and shook it vigorously. The room lit up with the blue glow from the lamp. He set it back down just as his father entered the receiving room.

Coming into the light, Parker noticed that his father wore the white and red cloak of his office. The man’s hard eyes stared at Parker, showing no reaction. After a long moment, Parker spoke.

“Hello, Father.”

“What are you doing here, Parker?”

“Something has come up. Something more important than my career in the Hierarchy.” Parker hoped that he sounded confident.

His father snorted. “I can’t imagine what that could be.”

Parker nodded, aware of his father’s belief that Parker’s career was everything. After all, he had made it clear that he thought his own career was everything.

“I’m on a mission, Father. Something is coming. Something that could be the end of us all.” Parker tried to sound convincing. “My mission is to prevent that from happening.”

His father stared at him before responding. “You really believe that?”

Parker nodded, somewhat surprised that he did believe it.

“It still doesn’t answer why you are here.”

“I need your help, father. I need to get a couple friends and myself into the citadel basement. We’re looking for something.”

“Friends?” The man asked.

Parker nodded again. “Yes. They came with me from the Academy. They’re upstairs. I was hoping we could stay here a few days, just until we retrieve what we came for.”

His father stepped closer. “What then? Will you return to the Academy and finish your training?”

This was it. Parker could feel that the outcome of this conversation hinged on his response. Should he confront his father and tell him that he was finished living under the man’s thumb? Or should he tell the man what he wanted to hear? He swallowed hard, prepared to do what he must.

“Yes, Father. Of course, I’ll return to the Academy.” Parker smiled through the lie. “What else would I do with my life?”

The man’s eyes narrowed before he nodded. “Okay, then. You and your friends may stay here. I’ll see what I can do about getting you inside the citadel.”

He then turned and walked to the stairwell, disappearing into the darkness. Parker could hear the man’s footsteps as he ascended to the second floor and entered his room.

The conversation had gone far better than expected, but it left him feeling that he had missed something in the exchange. Whatever it was, he hoped that it wouldn’t to come back to haunt him.

CHAPTER 35

“What are we doing here, Brock?” Lars complained, pushing his empty plate aside. “I still don’t understand why we’re doing this. We fled the Academy to no longer be pawns of the Ministry and now you have us acting as pawns for the Tantarri.”

Brock sighed and set his fork down on his plate. He absently adjusted the strip of cloth tied around his head as he considered his response. Knowing that the question would come eventually, he had put some thought into how to approach it.

“Don’t you think I realize how crazy this seems? Don’t you think I’ve questioned the whole thing over and over?” he asked, looking Lars in the eye. “Why should we listen to an outlandish vision that some random Tantarri recorded hundreds of years ago? Why should we follow the man’s directions and embark on a ridiculous quest to find some unknown secret hidden in a throne lost destroyed centuries ago?”

Lars nodded as Brock spoke, likely having those same questions himself. The others remained quiet as they watched the exchange from their seats at the dining table. Brock’s gaze swept around the room, searching their faces before continuing.

“It’s quite possible that the quest will be pointless and we are chasing our own tails for no reason.” Brock said with a slow nod. “However, what if the prophecy is true? What if we are teetering on the brink of destruction, the end of humanity? If it is true and we do nothing, it could be the end for us all. What would you have us do, Lars? Do we not at least try?” He paused, letting the question hang in silence for a moment. “On the other hand, if we are near the end and we do nothing, at least we won’t have to live with the guilt for long.”

Lars’ face clouded, clearly not liking what he was hearing.

Benny interjected. “What else have we to do anyway, Lars? When we left the Academy, we left the defined path behind. From that moment, our future has been wide open. This quest will fill our future for a short time. If it turns out to be pointless and there’s nothing to fear, we can go on with whatever life we choose for ourselves.”

Parker nodded in agreement. “I agree. I say we continue with the quest for a bit yet and see what the future holds. Whether the Tantarri prophecy is real or false, we’ll soon find out.”

Lars looked at Parker, his eyes shifting to Brock before he nodded. “Fine. You win, Brock. We continue on for a while and see what happens.”

Brock smiled, reaching over to clap Lars on the shoulder. The motion of the door opening caused his eyes to flash upward as a middle-aged man entered from the kitchen. The man had a bundle of black cloaks with blue piping in his arms.

“Hello, everyone,” the man said, his eyes scanning the room. “I’m Cedric Thanes, Parker’s father.”

As soon as he said it, Brock could see the resemblance. The man had the same tall, thin build as Parker. His graying hair still held some of the dark brown that pervaded Parker’s scalp. Though there were lines about the man’s eyes, they were an older version of Parker’s own brown eyes.

“Hello, Father,” Parker stood to greet the man.

Cedric pushed the bundle toward Parker, who reached out to take it.

“What’s this?” Parker asked.

“Clerk cloaks. Three of them,” Cedric replied. “It’s the best I could do. These should get you into the citadel. I suggest that you go just after sunrise, when most people are entering. What you do once you get in is your own problem.”

Parker smiled, nodding. “Thank you, Father. Would you like to join us? We are just finishing up dinner.”

Cedric shook his head. “No. I’m off to my study. I need to finish drafting a document that must be ready for the Archon by morning.”

The man gave them a brief nod before departing.

Parker turned to look at Brock. “This will be risky, Brock. In order to get in, we’ll will have to be unarmed. We have three cloaks. Who comes with us?”

Brock nodded. “You guys heard him. It will be dangerous, and I expect the penalty for trespassing in the citadel will be stiff.” His gaze swept across the table, meeting the eyes of everyone seated. “I believe that this job requires us to look the part. If we are to be city clerks, I think Benny best suites the role. Plus, his over-sized brain might be more useful than muscle for this outing.” He looked at Benny. “Will you join us, Benny?”

Benny gave a grin. “You know I will, Brock. We’ll find that throne and whatever is inside it.”

CHAPTER 36

Brock followed Parker outside, descending the steps to the cobblestone street passing the front of the house. Turning east, they walked toward the tall towers looming above the city. Still covered in shadow, the streets were coming to life as skies above brightened. Dawn would be breaking soon, marking the moment when the citadel doors opened.

With just two blocks to travel, they soon approached the citadel. They climbed the tall set of stairs below the walls to join the people assembled outside the gate.

A distant bell tolled. Moments later, a bell in the towers high above them rang in response. The gate swung open and guards called for those entering to do so in single file. Shuffling his feet as the line inched forward, Brock’s pulse began to quicken and his stomach took a queasy turn. Four long minutes passed before they reached the front of the line. A guard standing beside a scribe waved them closer.

“Hello, sirs.” Parker said to the two men.

“Names and your business at the citadel.” The scribe said, holding his pen ready.

Parker smiled, ready with his practiced response. “Parker Tannis, Benedict Hedding, and Brock Takkins. We are new clerks from Wayport, come to learn how things are done here at the capital.”

The scribe jotted down information on the clipboard, his tongue sliding back and forth across his lip as he wrote. When he nodded, the guard waved them in.

They crossed an open plaza that was occupied by statues and sculpted shrubs. Brock found that his nerves were getting the better of him, leaving his armpits damp though it was a cool morning.

Parker appeared confident as he led them toward the large building in the center of the complex. As they approached, Brock admired the row of high arches at the front, supported by rounded alabaster pillars. Following another group with similar cloaks, they climbed another set of stairs and passed under the arches.

A set of double-doors led them from the exterior hall into the spacious main hall. A fountain in the heart of the open space ran freely, flowing around a tall statue of Issal. Terraces high above overlooked the hall, illuminated by sunlight pouring through the glass-paneled ceiling four stories above. People scurried about, with many disappearing down hallways at the far corners of the room as they headed toward other parts of the building.

Rather than walking across the open hall, Parker made a sharp right toward a narrow stairwell with Brock and Benny a step behind. A quick descent brought them to a level with branching corridors, dark but for the pale blue light emitted by glowlamps mounted to the wall at wide intervals. Parker followed the central corridor, not slowing as he spoke over his shoulder.

“There’s supposed to be another stairwell leading downward from this level. That’s what we’re looking for.”

Closed doors lined the corridor, leaving Brock wondering which door hid the stairwell they were seeking.

“Do you know where you’re going, Parker?” Brock asked. “How do you know it’s not one of these doors?”

Parker turned toward Brock as he gestured toward the nearest door. “These rooms are apartments for the clerks. They tend to work long hours and often sleep down here rather than commuting.” He pointed ahead. “We need to reach the older part of the keep, beneath the heart of the citadel. Once we get there, we’ll start checking doors.”

Brock nodded and followed as Parker led them down the corridor. The hallway soon came to a short flight of stairs, bringing them down a half-level. At the foot of the stairs, the walls dropped away to leave a large open space filled with desks, some of which were occupied by clerks already busy writing under the dim nimbus of a glowlamp. The scattered lamps in the large dark space gave an illusion that the desks were floating in space.

Feeling self-conscious, Brock tried to appear nonchalant as he followed Parker across the room to the hallway at the other end. They entered the dark hallway, which terminated at a pair of double-doors. Parker paused at the doors, looking back at Brock before he pushed one open.

A slight creak echoed as they stepped through and into the dark space beyond. The door closed behind Benny, leaving them blind with no lamps lighting the way.

Benny grabbed Parker’s arm. “Wait a minute. I’ll be right back.”

Without pause, Benny slipped through the door they had just entered. Blind in the pitch darkness surrounding him, the thumping of Brock’s pulse sounded in his ears as he anxiously waited for Benny’s return. Moments later, the door opened, and Benny stepped through with the soft blue light of a glowlamp in each hand. He passed one lamp to Parker, who nodded. Shaking it briskly to increase the light, he headed down the corridor. Brock slipped behind Parker with Benny and the other lamp trailing.

“The stairwell should be somewhere near here,” Parker said quietly.

“I’ve an idea,” Benny said.

Benny tapped his lamp against the stone block wall, the clink of the glass on the rock echoing in the corridor. He did it again, harder. The third time, the glass broke, sending sharp shards tumbling to the floor while the base of the lamp remained in Benny’s hand.

“Do you have to be so loud?” Parker asked in a whisper.

“Sorry,” Benny said. “I need the powder from inside the lamp.”

“What?” Parker asked.

Benny smiled, rocking his shoulders. “You’ll see.”

Benny walked past Parker to the first hallway door. He poured just a bit of glowing powder out. When the powder settled on the floor at the bottom of the door, Benny shook his head and moved on.

He repeated this process at each door they passed before moving on. Parker and Brock watched in confusion, following along. Just when Brock had enough of Benny’s quirky behavior, something changed. Nine doors in, the powder dropping to the floor disappeared through the gap under the door.

Benny looked at Brock, smiling. “This should be it.”

He squeezed the handle and opened the door. Sure enough, there was a dark stairwell leading downward.

Parker passed Benny, patting him on the shoulder. “Good job, Benny.”

Brock gave Benny a quick hug. “I knew those brains would come in handy.”

The light from Parker’s lamp was a beacon that Brock followed down into the darkness. The dampness of the air increased noticeably as they descended. The dark stone of the walls was now a different material, appearing to be of older construction than the structure above. He counted the stairs during their descent, which totaled thirty-two steps. They walked down the dark hall at the foot of the stairwell and found themselves before a set of heavy double-doors.

Parker stopped at the doors, glancing backward. Brock could feel a tension as he sensed something beyond the closed doors. A feeling of trepidation washed over him, causing his stomach to twist in anxiety. Just as he was about to tell him to wait, Parker pushed the door open and entered the room beyond.

The musty air thickened further beyond the heavy door. Parker held the glowlamp higher so they could better inspect their surroundings. Broken relics occupied the room, covered by cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. Though the sense of trouble still lurked within, Brock felt a spark of hope. The throne might be among this refuse.

Brock and Benny followed as Parker advanced, weaving his way down the aisle before them. Brock’s eyes scanned objects as they passed, finding an ornate wardrobe with a broken door, an unloaded ballista, an odd glass sphere mounted upon a pedestal, a large chest with a rusted lock, and other assorted objects along to the right side of the aisle.

As Brock turned toward the opposite side of the room, he noticed a faint light beyond a set of double doors that stood partially open. Reaching out, he grabbed Parker’s shoulder and pulled him to a halt.

“What’s that ahead?” Brock whispered, pointing toward the doorway.

When the light grew brighter, a shock of ice-cold fear wiggled down Brock’s spine. A moment later, a glowlamp entered the room, held by a familiar face.

“Father? Why are you down here?” Parker asked.

As guards began to follow the man through the doorway, the cause for the dread Brock felt was realized.

“I’m doing what I must, son,” Cedric replied.

A dozen armed guards fanned out to the sides of the man, some drawing swords. A female guard holding a glowlamp entered the room, accompanied by a man dressed in gold-embroidered white clothing and a shimmering gold cloak. The woman was tall, perhaps the tallest woman Brock had ever seen. Her muscled arms were bare from her padded shoulders to the metal-plated bracers strapped to her forearms. The cloaked man stood taller than the woman, perhaps even taller than Cam. Gray peppered the man’s black hair, including the short-trimmed goatee that framed his grim smile.

Parker’s father spoke again. “Don’t bother trying to run, Parker. We’ve got men posted in the corridor above the stairwell behind you.” His expression was firm, harsh. “You’re little quest is over.”

“Please, sir,” Brock pleaded. “We just wanted to find the Emblem Throne and retrieve something hidden inside it. We meant no harm.”

The man in the gold cloak laughed. “The Emblem Throne?” He turned to Parker’s father. “You were correct, Cedric. A fanciful quest indeed.” The man’s gaze fell back on Brock. “The Emblem Throne is a myth, merely existing in the words of a children’s song. Even if it were real, the Kings of Kalimar never lived in Sol Polis. Sol Limar was the capital back then. Not only are you idiots to believe in such a stupid quest, but you went to the wrong city!”

The man laughed again. It was not a pleasant sound. As the man’s words sunk in, Brock realized that he had led his friends into a trap and they weren’t even in the right city. The trust that they had put in him now felt unjustified, sending a wave of guilt to wash over him.

As the laughter died down, Cedric pointed toward Brock. “That’s him, Archon.”

Another dagger of dread thrust through Brock when he realized whom he faced.

Archon Ringholdt smiled, nodding. “Very good, Cedric. Very good.” The man stepped closer, his intimidating female bodyguard mimicking him. “You may have fooled the Academy, but you can’t fool me, you little bastard. I know you murdered my son.”

Any shred of hope remaining within Brock instantly evaporated.

The Archon’s arm extended and he pointed toward Brock. “Arrest them.”

The guards advanced to surround the boys. Without any weapons nor a plan as to how Chaos might help him, Brock gave no resistance when the men grabbed his arms. Ringholdt stepped closer, stopping just a stride away from Brock.

“Even if I can’t officially charge you with murder, I’ve caught you trespassing in the citadel. To do so while I am here can be construed as an attempt on my life, which is an act of treason.” A smug smile crossed the tall man’s face, reminding Brock of Corbin. “The penalty for treason is death.”

“Father, how could you?” Parker pleaded.

Ringholdt glanced toward Parker. “Don’t worry lad, your father has negotiated your safe release. Of course, that release will not occur until you’ve been escorted back to the Academy to complete your training.” Ringholdt glanced back at Parker’s father. “Cedric has assured me that you were manipulated into some fanciful quest. He’s convinced me that once you are away from these bad influences, you’ll become yourself again and will focus on your studies and career.”

The tall man’s gaze shifted, looking down at Brock with contempt. His dark eyes narrowed and he reached toward the bandage around Brock’s forehead. With a quick yank, he tore it off.

Ringholdt’s eyes grew wide, gasping as he stepped backward. “That rune! It can’t be!”

His look of shock evolved to one of rage.

“Take them to the dungeon. The others will be there shortly.”

He turned to leave, stopping beside Parker’s father. “Arrange for your son to be taken to Wayport. See that he is away no later than tomorrow. The others are to be executed for treason.”

The man stormed out the door, his gold cloak billowing behind him as the woman with the glowlamp quickly followed.

“Why, Father?” Parker pleaded.

Cedric looked grim as he stepped closer. “I’ll not have you throw your life away for nothing. You’re going back to Academy to complete your training. These others who you call friends are nothing but a distraction. They don’t care about you or what’s best for you. If they did, they wouldn’t have lured you here in the first place.”

Tears streamed down Parker’s cheeks. “I can’t believe that you betrayed me, Father.”

“You betrayed me first, son,” Cedric sneered. He turned, addressing the guards. “Take them to the dungeon.”

CHAPTER 37

Rough hands pulled Brock down the dark corridor, gripping his upper arms hard enough to leave bruises. Brock’s mind was elsewhere, trying to grasp the gravity of the situation. A pang of fear twisted within when he realized that Ashland and the others were in danger. He closed his eyes and reached out to warn her. Ashland responded that he was too late. The city guards had rushed the house moments before and shackled his companions after a brief, but violent struggle.

He opened his eyes, trying to keep his bearings. They turned down another hallway, which brought them to a door that opened into a dark room with a single glowlamp upon the desk in the corner. Heavy wooden doors lined the otherwise barren brick walls.

A mountain of a man with a thick brown beard waited within the room, leaning against the desk as he twirled a ring of keys around one finger. With a grunt, the man stood upright and stepped to one of the closed doors. After unlocking it, he stepped aside, and the guards holding Brock violently shoved him into the dark cell. Stumbling, Brock reached out to brace himself as he collided with the cold stone wall. He spun about as the door slammed shut, the sound feeling like a thunderclap in the small cell. He heard the key sliding into the lock, followed by the click of the lock engaging. The subtle sound of the lock felt as ominous as the door slamming shut.

Brock put his face against the barred opening in the door, which was slightly larger than his head. Guards rudely shoved Benny and Parker into neighboring cells and locked them within. The guards who had been their escort departed, leaving the large one with the keys behind. The man walked back to the desk, plopped down into the wooden chair and crossed his feet upon the desk.

For a while, Brock heard nothing but his own breathing. He swallowed hard, his mind churning as he contemplated his options. Approaching footsteps soon drew his attention to the doorway to the corridor outside. The sound grew louder until another group of guards emerged and shoved Cameron through the doorway. Brock’s tall friend had a black eye and a split lip. They unshackled his hands from behind his back and pushed him into a dark cell.

Each of Brock’s companions was ushered through the room and locked into his or her own cell. Brock searched each familiar face to see if they were okay. Similar to Cam, both Lars and Puri were bound in shackles until they were within their cell. Lars had a lump on his head while Puri had a hastily bandaged gash on her upper arm. Tipper and Libby both looked shaken, but they were unharmed and unshackled.

For a moment, Brock thought that Ashland wasn’t among them and feared that something had happened to her. A wave of relief hit when she passed through the door and appeared unharmed. Her eyes searched the room, meeting his for a moment before the guards pushed her into a cell and locked the door. With all the prisoners locked away, the guards filed out the door, again leaving the keeper of the keys behind.

As the man reclaimed his seat behind the desk, Brock turned from the door. Sitting upon the low pallet that was to be his bed, Brock put his mind to the task of escaping.

.   .   .

Are you sure you want to do this? Brock asked.

Yes. It’s the only way to ensure our escape without killing the man or having him call for help, Ashland replied.

Brock closed his eyes, drawing in as much Chaos as possible before opening them and pouring it into the rune.

Okay. I’m ready. Do it now, Brock sent before he opened his eyes and listened.

“Hey, big guy!” Ashland’s voice called out. “Can you come here?”

Brock stepped to his cell door and peered through the bars. The recent shift change resulted in a different guard now on duty. Surprisingly, this man was even bigger than the last.

The guard stopped eating his meal, rose to his feet, and approached the door to Ashland’s cell.

“What do you want?” the man asked.

“I’m so hungry. If you give me some of your food, I’ll give you something in return,” she replied.

“What could you give me?”

Ashland responded, “Does this give you any ideas?”

The guard smiled as he looked through the bars into Ashland’s cell.

“Very nice,” the big man nodded. “But how do I know you’re not just trying to escape?”

Ashland’s voice came from the cell again. “Here. I’ll turn my back and you can shackle me when you come in. You just have to promise me some of your food when you’re finished.”

Brock heard the jingling of keys as the man unlocked the cell door. When the guard stepped inside her cell, Brock tried to remain calm. Seconds passed, which felt like hours, until he heard Ashland. Okay, Hurry!

He thrust his hands against the door with Chaos-enhanced Power. The door burst from the opening, spraying splinters in all directions as it slammed into the opposite wall.

“What was that?” the guard exclaimed.

Brock darted into the cell, sweeping the man aside. Though the man was twice Brock’s size, he slammed into the wall and crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Ashland’s back was facing him, her wrists shackled behind her. Brock bent to retrieve the man’s ring of keys. Trying to be as gentle as possible, he used the smallest key to unlock Ashland’s wrist. As the shackles fell to the floor, she spun to hug him. Not wishing to injure her with his chaotic strength, he kept his arms to the side. After a moment, she loosened her arms and gave him a smile. He returned the smile, relieved that she was okay. She stepped back and his smile grew wider, seeing her in her shift.

“The man was right.” Brock nodded, grinning. “Very nice indeed.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she pulled her shirt back over her head. “You are so bad, Brock Talenz.”

“Are you guys done with the lovey-dovey yet?” Benny pleaded from his cell. “Some of us would like to get out of here.”

Brock held the keys out to Ashland. “You take these and lock him in here before you free the others. I’ll keep watch until you’re done.”

She nodded and took the keys. Brock crossed the room to the doorway. Peeking his head out, he was relieved to find the corridor empty. He turned back to watch Ashland free the others. Libby ran to Tipper, hugging him fiercely. Benny rocked his elbows in anxiety. Cam and Lars each grabbed a cudgel from the desk, looking ready to use them as needed. Puri appeared ready to eat lightning. Parker’s eyes met Brock’s when he stepped out of his cell.

“I’m sorry that this happened,” Parker said. “I never imagined that my Father would betray me, betray us.”

“Don’t worry about it, Parker,” Brock replied. “Go grab that lamp. We’ll need the light to retrace our steps.” As Parker grabbed the lamp, Brock addressed the others. “I’ll take the lead. It should be night outside now, so we should be able to slip out without running into trouble. Now, let’s get out of here.”

With Parker and the lamp a step behind, Brock darted down the corridor. Retracing the route they had taken to the dungeon, he led them through the depths of the keep. They crossed the room filled with old relics, going through the double-doorway and up the long flight of stairs. After running down the dark corridor at the top of the stairs, they passed through the underground office where the city clerks worked, only to find the room dark and the desks empty. Up the short flight of stairs and down the long corridor they went, turning at the end to head toward the stairwell leading up to the main hall. Brock slowed the group as they climbed the stairs, hoping that they might remain inconspicuous. Expecting it to be quiet since it was well past nightfall, he was surprised at the flurry of activity within the citadel.

People in a state of panic scurried about the open space. A group of guards struggled against the stream of civilians flowing into the building, eventually forcing their way outside. Not having time to consider what was happening, Brock jumped in line with the guards and followed them outside with his companions trailing close behind.

As Brock led them across outer hall, the noise and hysteria became even more intense. People ran in every direction within the plaza, seeking entry to the buildings inside the citadel walls. The night sky suddenly grew bright as a ball of flames arced over the south wall. The rumble of an explosion shook the city as flames shot up from buildings a few streets away. Brock reached out and grabbed a man running toward the citadel.

“What’s happening? Why’s everyone running?” Brock yelled.

The man turned to Brock, his eyes frightened. “The city is under attack by monsters! This is the end of days!”

Backing away from Brock, the man turned and ran toward the building. Brock glanced back at the others. From the looks on their faces, they heard what the man said.

With a new sense of urgency, Brock ran down the steps and led them across the plaza toward the gates. As he drew close, he found guards urgently pushing people back as the gates began to close. Brock squeezed past the guards and through the frantic mob as it drew closed. Once outside, he grabbed the thick iron bars and the gate came to a halt, causing the two guards who were cranking it to cry out in pain. As Brock held the gate with his Chaos-charged strength, a guard grabbed his shirt and tried to push him away. With a flick of his wrist, Brock tossed the guard into two others who were trying to hold the mob back.

Cam and Lars pushed their way through the oncoming crowd, cutting a path for the others to follow. Once his companions were clear, Brock released the gate and followed their trail as they fought their way through the terrified populace.

CHAPTER 38

Finding that his father wasn’t home when they arrived, Parker assumed that the man was at the citadel and would remain there with the Archon until the attackers destroyed the city. Realizing that he’d likely never see the man again, Parker found that he didn’t care. They had never been close, but his father’s act of betrayal had severed the last strings to Parker’s heart.

Agatha and Pinkus were another story. The cook and butler had been part of the household for decades and felt more like parents to Parker than his father ever had. He urged them to leave the city, but both were adamant that they would remain with the house. As long as the house survived, they would survive. While his companions gathered their things, Parker said some very painful goodbyes. He led the others out into the stable yard, wiping the tears from his eyes under the cover of night. With the impending deaths of Pinkus and Agatha, he was losing the only family he’d ever known.

Niles waited anxiously, the horses appeared ready to go.

“I’d like to go with you, Master Parker. That is, if you’ll have me,” the boy said, wringing his hands.

Another explosion lit the night sky, causing everyone to glance toward the thunderous sound.

Parker turned back to Niles. “Of course you can join us, Niles.”

Parker mounted his horse, reaching a hand down toward Niles.

“Grab my hand and get on,” Parker said. “You can ride with me.”

The boy nodded, grabbing Parker’s hand and climbing up to sit behind him.

With everyone mounted and ready, Parker kicked his horse and led them down the quiet alley. When they reached the street, people were running in every direction. Hysteria had taken ahold of the populace, reducing them to mindless drones running in fright. The basic human need to survive had erased any thoughts of compassion as the mob trampled over anyone who had the misfortune of falling.

Parker and Puri led the others down the street as the horses forced the mob to part. When they reached eastern wall, they found the gate still open. Following the throng of people pouring out the gate, they rode down the street toward the pier where Star Dancer had moored.

“Look. She’s still here!” Benny pointed toward the ship, still in its mooring.

With Parker and Puri leading, the group rode their horses onto the pier, parting the mob of those who hoped to escape the city aboard a ship. When they approached the end of the pier, Parker noticed the crewmembers of Star Dancer were using poles to keep the crowd from climbing the lines tied to the ship.

“Ho, Star Dancer!” Parker yelled. “Where’s Captain Sinclair?”

A sailor called back. “He’s coming up behind you!”

Parker turned to see the man’s bright red vest trailing the last horse in their group. As the man stumbled past the horses, Parker called out to him.

“Yo, Sinclair! We need to get out of here. Do you have room for us?”

Sinclair stopped, swaying as if on the seas, his eyes at half-mast. A smile lit up on the drunk captain’s face.

“Well met, Master Thanes! Thanks for parting the crowd for me. I wasn’t sure if I was gonna make it back.” He waved his arm, stumbling into the horse beside him. “Of course we’ll have you. However, we have an issue with these people here. We certainly cannot take them all.”

Parker nodded. That much was obvious.

Brock dismounted and handed his staff to Tipper, still sitting upon his horse. “I’ve got this.”

Turning to the inland side of the dock, he grabbed ahold of the rail. With ease, Brock pulled the fifteen-foot long plank off the thick posts, sending splinters flying from where it broke loose. He then turned toward the throng of frightened citizens. Holding the rail across the width of the dock, he eased the crowd backward. Numerous men pushed back in an attempt to resist, but Brock continued to move them backward at an even but relentless pace, forcing a cluster of over fifty people down the dock until they were past the midpoint of the ship.

As the dock opened, the crew dropped boarding planks to the deck and to the cargo hold. Puri whistled and her white stallion led the other horses across the planks. As the horses boarded the cargo hold, Parker led the others up the other planks onto the deck. When the last horse was on board, the crew kicked the planks into the sea and closed the cargo hold doors.

Brock turned and shouted toward Parker. “Go ahead and pull the planks as soon as you’re aboard. Don’t worry about me.”

Puri was the last to board. As she crossed the planks to the deck, Parker called out.

“Okay, Brock! Let’s go!”

Brock turned and nodded to Parker as the sailors pulled the planks back onto the ship. Brock dropped the rail onto the pier, the heavy treated wood bouncing as it settled. He took a couple strides and leapt. With Brock’s strength augmented by the Power rune, he flew thirty feet up into the air, arcing high over Parker with his arms and legs swinging wildly in an attempt to remain upright. He landed on the ship’s deck, feet-first before tucking into a roll with the momentum.

The sailors stopped working, staring in awe at what had just occurred. Sinclair was among them. The captain closed his gaping jaw and shook his head to clear it.

“Come on, you lazy dogs! Get to work! We’ve got a ship to sail!”

As the men resumed prepping the ship, Sinclair turned back to Parker as he straightened his hat. “I know I’ve been drinking, but I’m not that drunk. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He shook his head in wonder. “You are an interesting group. I hope it’s lucky. We could use some luck right...”

Sinclair stopped mid-speech as he stared toward land. Parker turned toward the city, his eyes searching for what had caught the man’s attention.

“Issal’s breath,” he muttered at the sight before him.

Parker could see dark forms flowing through the streets that lay between the docks and the city wall. High-pitched screams carried across the bay as enemy attackers tore through the crowd. He watched in horror as the attackers began pouring through the open gate into the city and down the docks toward the crowded pier. As the enemy reached the people on the pier, he realized that the dark shapes were huge, far larger than the people they cut down. Despite their increasing the distance from the pier, the sound of screams continued to rise. The sound gave Parker chills, making his hair stand on end. In just a few short minutes, no living people remained on the pier. Bodies lay everywhere while some had leapt into the dark waters in hopes to escape. However, how far would it get them?

Sinclair recovered enough to call the crew to their marks. The sailors quickly raised the sails, driven by a new sense of urgency. Everyone wanted to be far from the city as fast as possible. Parker looked around, finding other ships both ahead and behind theirs as they fled the city.

Glancing backward, he noticed a couple ships still tied to the pier. Incredibly tall silhouettes tore through the ships as sailors leapt into the water, abandoning the vessels. The city lit up as a fireball arced through the sky to strike a citadel tower. Parker’s father was somewhere within the complex. The building where Cedric spent so much of his life was soon to become his tomb. While Parker felt a small pang of loss for his father, he would greatly miss others who had played important roles in his life. Closing his eyes, he prayed for Issal to reward Pinkus and Agatha for being good people.

With a slight turn, the sails rippled and snapped taught when they caught the stiff breeze. The ship gained speed as it sailed toward the breakers, leaving the dying city of Sol Polis behind.

CHAPTER 39

Parker stumbled toward the quarterdeck and grabbed the rail to steady himself as the ship raised high before dropping again. The deck tilted hard to the side, forcing him to grip tightly to keep from sliding across it. Wind-driven rain pelted his face as he scaled the stairs. Hugging the rail along the quarterdeck, he shouted to Tenzi.

“What is it?”

“I don’t understand where this storm came from. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like a hurricane, but it’s far too late in the year for one,” she shouted. “I need you to get the captain from his cabin.”

Hurrying back down the stairs, Parker scrambled toward the Captain’s Cabin. He pounded on the door while clenching to the rail with is other hand. The intensity of the rain had increased steadily over the past fifteen minutes, now falling so hard, he could barely see the bow. The ship rolled again, tipping low to one side before rocking to the other. Feeling a sense of urgency, he decided that he couldn’t wait for Sinclair to answer the door. He grabbed the knob, gave it a twist, and he fell into the room when the door swung open.

The dim light of the discharged glowlamp on the wall gave shape to the room’s interior, allowing Parker to see the prone form on the floor near the bed. He knelt beside the man, rolling him over. Blood covered Sinclair’s face, from a large gash on his forehead. He checked for a pulse and confirmed that the man was still alive. Patting his cheek, Parker tried to wake him. After seeing no response, Parker scrambled out the door and into the pouring rain.

When he reached the quarterdeck, he shouted to Tenzi.

“Sinclair hit his head. He’s alive, but he’s out cold.”

She turned toward him, her face showing a blend of alarm and frustration.

“I guess it’s up to me, then.”

Tenzi shouted to a cluster of three sailors, standing just below the quarterdeck. “We have to take down the sails before the masts break! The wind’s blowing too hard!”

The men nodded and scurried in response. Two of the men ran toward the bow while the third began scaling the mizzenmast rigging. Through the driving rain, Parker watched as other sailors began to scale the two forward masts. The bow rose high again and dropped as it crested a big wave. Sea spray drenched the deck, sweeping the feet from beneath two of the sailors. They slid across the deck, wedged against the rail by the heavy flow of water.

Parker remained on the quarterdeck, hugging the rail as Tenzi maintained a firm grip on the wheel. Now soaked through and through, he felt a pang of jealousy for his companions, safe and dry in their cabins below deck.

A powerful gust of wind hit, causing the ship to heel hard to one side. A scream sounded as the sailor on the mizzenmast lost his grip and tumbled into the churning waters below. Three of the sails on the mast were still unfurled, stretching under the pressure of the heavy wind.

Tenzi turned toward Parker. “Take the wheel!”

Surprised, Parker jumped forward and grabbed the wheel.

“Just hold it steady! Don’t let it turn on you!” she yelled to him before darting toward the rigging.

With practiced ease, she scrambled up the height of the mast. Up and up she went, not halting until she reached the top. Moments later, she had the uppermost sail down before dropping to the next. One end of the upper topsail collapsed but the other appeared stuck. Tenzi climbed on the yard, balancing on it as she ran to the stuck end. Grabbing the rigging with one hand, she used the other to cut the line holding the yard in place. It dropped from under her feet, leaving her dangling from the rigging.

She shimmied down to the lower topsail, getting it lowered just before a huge gust struck the ship. Tenzi jumped for the rigging and held it tightly to keep from being tossed into the sea as the ship heeled hard. A loud cracking snap sounded, drawing Parker’s attention toward the bow. With three of its four sails still unfurled, the foremast broke away from the ship. The two men in the mast rigging fell with it, tumbling into the sea. The mast crashed down hard, smashing the rail and sending splintered wood in all directions. Some of the rigging held for a moment, causing the long wooden shaft to dangle from the ship until the next big wave hit. The bow shot high with the wave, and the last of the rigging broke free to launch the mast over the side and into the sea. A huge wave followed and another sailor washed across the deck through the section with the broken rail. Parker could faintly hear the man’s scream as he fell into the roiling sea.

Parker glanced back up as Tenzi collapsed the last sail. She shimmied down the rigging and landed on the deck next to him. He looked at the main mast, seeing its sails now down, the men now safely on the deck. While the seas were still rough, the ship seemed much more stable with the wind’s effect drastically reduced.

Tenzi scrambled over and grabbed the wheel.

“Thanks. Now we just have to ride it out and try not to run ashore.”

Parker looked out at the dark waters. With the heavy rain, he could see little other than the whitecaps surrounding the ship. He had no idea how Tenzi would be able to see anything out there. It would be a long night.

.   .   .

With the sails down, the heavy waves continued to toss the ship for hours. The night seemed to drag on, as if it would never end. Parker could not have been wetter if he was in the sea itself, drenched from the relentless rainfall. Eventually, the wind calmed enough to allow them to unfurl the lowest sail on both remaining masts.

He glanced toward Brock, who was returning from Sinclair’s cabin. He and Cam had joined Parker on deck to help fill-in for the five crewmembers who had been lost to the storm.

Parker asked, “Sinclair’s still out?”

Brock nodded. “Yeah. I healed him, but it he hit his head hard. I have no idea when he’ll wake.”

Parker wasn’t sure what difference it would make. Despite the horrible circumstances, Tenzi seemed to have things under control. At least, as under control as was possible.

His eyes shifted to the horizon over the port side of the ship, noticing the sky growing lighter. Parker peered hard into the murky twilight, trying to see what was beyond the immediate vicinity of the ship. Brock and Cam noticed and attempted to do the same. Parker thought he could discern shapes through the rain, but he wasn’t sure if they were real or if his eyes were tricking him. Moments later, the sky lightened further, and the dark shapes took form.

A wall of high cliffs loomed a quarter-mile away with jagged rocks poking above the raging sea between the ship and shore. Some of the rocks were mere feet from the ship.

Parker spun toward Tenzi. “Rocks!”

Tenzi turned the wheel hard to starboard as a big wave struck. The force of the wave drove the ship toward the rocks, causing the ship to lurch when the hull connected. Parker almost went over the rail, but Cam had a grip of his cloak and yanked him back. A scream sounded as another sailor slipped through the section of broken railing and disappeared into the rough sea. The deck held at a steep angle for a few moments, the hull scraping noisily on the rocks as the ship broke loose from the momentary stasis.

Parker glanced back at Tenzi, who was trying desperately to get the ship clear of the rocks. He ran across the deck and scrambled up the steps to the quarterdeck.

“What can I do?” he yelled.

She shouted back. “We hit that rock pretty hard. Go below deck and see if we’re taking on water.”

He nodded and climbed back down the stairs before waving for Brock and Cam to follow. Weaving back and forth as the ship rocked, they crossed the deck, climbed down the stairs, and slipped inside. The noise of the storm dimmed when they closed the door behind them. Brock ran into the men’s cabin, emerging with a glow lamp as Lars, Benny, Niles, and Tipper looked on. Parker heard Benny shout from the room.

“What’s going on?”

Ignoring him, Parker opened the door at the end of the hall and descended to the cargo hold with Brock and Cam a step behind. The smell of feces was overwhelming, informing him that the horses were shaken by the poor treatment.

Parker ran to the bilge hatch and pulled it open. The blue light of his glowlamp poured through the hatch, lighting the surface of the dark water below. The bilge was already full; the surface of the water now just inches below the hatch.

He glanced toward Brock, their eyes meeting. It was clear that ship wouldn’t stay afloat much longer. He closed the hatch and they climbed back to the cabin level.

Brock went to warn the girls while Parker stuck his head into the boys’ room.

“Get your stuff and get on deck. The ship is sinking. We don’t have long.”

Benny, Lars, Niles, and Tipper scrambled to gather weapons and packs as Parker and Cam grabbed their own. When he stepped from the cabin, Brock was leading Ashland, Libby, and Puri toward the deck.

They emerged topside and found that daylight had taken a firm grip, making it easy to see shore. Parker scanned the landmass and found a forbidding wall of tall cliffs lining the shoreline. He ran to the quarterdeck and climbed up to report to Tenzi.

“We are taking on water! The bilge is nearly full!”

Tenzi looked grim, nodding. “We don’t have long, then. Let’s see if I can get us a bit closer before we abandon ship.”

Parker nodded. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

She leaned over to shout. “There’s a bucket in the dingy. Take it and start bailing!”

Parker nodded, dropping to the main deck and running to the dingy. Brock saw him and met him at the rail.

“What’s the plan?” Brock asked.

“We need to bail out the dingy. We’ll have to abandon ship soon!” he yelled back.

“I’ll do it,” Brock said as he climbed onto the rail and jumped over to the swinging dingy.

Parker ran across the deck to meet their other companions.

“We are about to abandon ship.” Parker pointed toward the dingy.

Puri glanced at it, then back to Parker. “What about the horses? We cannot leave them.”

“What else can we do? They can’t fit on the dingy,” Parker shouted back.

She stared at him for a long moment, her face grim when she finally nodded. Turning, she disappeared down the stairs with Cameron a step behind while the others waited on deck. When Puri and Cam returned, her face remained grim but Cam’s now looked haunted.

Parker stepped close to Cam. “What happened?”

Cam shrugged. “When we got down there, the water in the cargo hull was waist deep and is rising fast. Puri didn’t want the horses to drown, trapped down there, so she gave them a better death I guess.”

Parker now understood the looks on their faces. He patted Cam on the shoulder but had no words to add. The ship lurched again, causing everyone to stumble toward the bow. Parker spun about to find that they were now just a couple hundred feet from shore. Tenzi had opted to run them aground.

He turned toward the stern to see her descend from the quarterdeck.

“Abandon ship!” Tenzi shouted as she approached the remaining crewmembers. “Grab the captain, and help him to the dingy.”

Parker turned to his friends. “To the dingy. Come on,” he led the others to the small vessel.

Starting with the three girls, Parker, Cam, and Brock helped the others climb into the dingy as it dangled above the churning water twenty feet below. They were already in the dingy when Tenzi appeared at the rail, trailed by three sailors stumbling under the dead weight of Captain Sinclair. Cam and Lars helped load the unconscious man into the dingy. The remaining three sailors climbed into the fully loaded boat, leaving only Tenzi on the ship.

A large wave hit, splashing cold water high enough to soak them. Parker looked up at the ship, now tilting away from the dingy, but he could no longer see Tenzi. Moments later, she appeared and flipped the winch release. The queasy sense of weightlessness hit Parker’s stomach as the small craft plummeted to the sea. It struck hard, flattening out the passengers and sending a sailor over the side to vanish into the dark waters. Parker and Cam leaned over the edge, looking to fish the man from the sea, but he never surfaced. A rope from above dropped into the water, causing Parker to look up again. Tenzi had cut one of the winch lines that had held the dingy. With a leap, she jumped to the other line and shimmied down to the boat. Once onboard, she used her knife to sever the line and turned to the group.

“Now, get those oars in the water! We’ve got to get to shore, now!”

Mirroring the two sailors, Cam reached dug an oar from beneath their seats and set the pivot pin in place. Lars had his in place seconds later, and all four oars were set.

Tenzi yelled. “Row at the same time, on my count!” They nodded and she called out, “Stroke!”

Parker’s gaze shifted toward the shore as the small boat rose up on a high swell. There was a narrow beach nestled between the cliff sides, hundreds of feet away. The beach disappeared as the swell passed them and the boat dipped low, surrounded by high waves. He glanced back to where the last sailor had fallen, still not seeing the man. He prayed to Issal that the sea wasn’t out to claim anyone else.

.   .   .

Parker held tight to the rail as the dingy ran aground. Tenzi and the last two remaining sailors leapt from the bow into the waist-deep water. Without their added weight, the bow raised up and the next wave drove the boat forward while those on foot pulled it along. When the wave receded, the hull remained firmly beached against the wet sand.

Cam and Parker each grabbed one end of Sinclair, lifting him over the side of the boat as they passed the captain to the two sailors. Another wave crashed in, causing the men to stumble as they tried to get to dry land. When they fell, they lost grip of their captain. Tenzi grabbed the man’s hands before the receding water could pull him from shore. She was able to drag Sinclair across the sand despite his being more than twice her size. Parker leapt from the boat to help as another wave hit, the force washing Sinclair further ashore. Seeing that Tenzi had the captain safely on the beach, he turned to help the others from the small boat.

A minute later, the group sat high on the beach, exhausted as they watched the waves crashing along the sandy shore. Parker’s gaze searched beyond the breakers to see what had become of Star Dancer. Nothing but the quarterdeck and two remaining masts stood above the waterline. The ship appeared to have settled into its fresh grave, a quarter mile from shore.

The rain had lessoned significantly since they had boarded the dingy, now wavering between a sprinkle and a fine mist. Cold and wet, Parker prayed for the rain to end.

Using his staff, Brock climbed to his feet and dusted the sand from his bottom before extending a hand to Ashland.

“Come on. Let’s see what’s here besides sand and rock.” Brock said.

She took his hand, standing as others began climbing to their feet.

Tenzi gestured toward the remaining sailors. “Perry, Bart, and I will stay with Sinclair to make sure he’s safe.”

Parker responded. “Do you want me to stay with you? I’m pretty good with this bow.” He patted the bow strung across his back.

“Don’t worry about me,” Tenzi said. “I’m pretty good with these knives, too.”

Parker had seen the girl use her knife, but hadn’t noticed more than one. He felt sure that she wasn’t boasting. Her toughness was among the reasons she intrigued him.

They headed toward the green foliage covering the hillside beyond the beach. The pale sands extended hundreds of feet in both directions, terminating against steep cliff walls that towered over the sea.

When they crested the rise of sand, they found a small river emerging from a ravine as it flowed into the sea. Parker sent Issal a prayer of thanks for the fortune of landing near a source of fresh water.

The canyon before them was thick with palms and lush green undergrowth. The foliage enveloped a shallow river, dotted with partially submerged rocks. Parker removed his flask and submerged it in the swift flowing water to fill it. Others copied him, refilling their water skins as they observed their surroundings.

Brock pointed east. “It appears that the way out is to follow this ravine uphill. Since this river will provide fresh water, we can follow it inland until we find a place to stop and rest. I think we could all use a break after last night. Plus, we can’t make it too far until Sinclair recovers.”

Parker pointed inland. “You guys scout ahead. I’ll go back and help carry Sinclair up here.”

“Okay.” Brock nodded before turning east, leading the group up the canyon.

As Parker headed back to the beach, he realized that the rain had stopped. Glancing back at the eastern horizon, he saw a slim beam of sunlight breaking through the gray skies above the ridgeline. The storm was over.

CHAPTER 40

Raising a knuckle to his eyes, Brock rubbed the weariness out. He was thankful that they had escaped the storm alive but was now concerned about their continued survival. While he knew that the attack on Sol Polis and subsequent storm were not his doing, he felt responsible since the others had followed him on the quest that put them in this position.

Looking out at the sea, a half mile away, the steady sets of white waves upon blue waters appeared far friendlier than they had an hour ago. Now that the storm had moved on, the sea had settled, and the land had begun to dry in the morning sun. He turned to survey the camp, and saw that Parker and Cam were draping clothing from the lowest branches of a large umbrella-like tree. A small fire burned in the center of the camp, fed by dead wood gathered from the area. Between the warmth of the fire, emerging sunlight, and the ocean breeze, he expected that things would dry quickly.

Taking a seat upon a rock, Brock began removing his belongings from his pack. He pulled out a bundle, wrapped within his old apprentice cloak. Finding the cloak to be quite wet, he winced at what he might find when he unwrapped it. The cloak fell away, revealing a thick red book with a gold Chaos rune embossed on the cover. His fears were realized when he noticed that the edges of the pages were wet. He carefully peeled the wet pages open to where his folded notes were stored. Luckily, the notes were still intact, but most of the book was ruined. Finding the text and symbols on the pages smeared beyond recognition, Brock’s heart sank as he realized that the symbols discovered thus far might be all they would ever learn.

Brock looked at the two most recent symbols, drawn in his notes. He, Ashland, Tipper, and Libby had begun memorizing them, but they could only guess at the effect of the symbols until they tested them. Having translated the runes during their journey from Wayport to Sol Polis, they had resisted any experimentation within the confines of the ship. The last thing he had wanted was to sink the ship. With the thought, Brock looked toward the water and saw the ship’s masts jutting above the surface at an angle, looking like two toothpicks. He found it ironic that the ship ended up sinking for a completely different reason.

“That looks bad.” Ashland said as she sat next to Brock.

He looked back at the wet book in his hands. “Yeah. The notes survived, but the book is in bad shape.”

“Maybe if you put it in the sun to dry it, you can still salvage something from it,” she suggested.

Brock stood, stepping to the outcropping of rocks where they were drying their wet cloaks and clothing. He found a flat spot and set the open book out to dry. The warmth from the sun felt good on his cool damp skin. His focus shifted to the sky overhead. Holding his hand up to block the bright sunlight, he noticed another shape in the heavens. Now a round ball, the ominous planet could easily be seen in the day sky. How long did they have before it reappeared in the evening sky?

Brock surveyed the camp again, and found that the others had stripped down to minimal clothing as their things dried. His eyes then fell on the ship captain. Sinclair was now awake, but still seemed quite out of sorts. The man tried to sit and then promptly tipped sideways to throw up. It appeared that it would take some time yet for him to recover.

Approaching Parker, Brock spoke softly. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

Parker glanced toward Niles, who shrugged. “No. I’ve never seen this coast before. Since that way is east,” he pointed inland, “we must be somewhere in Kalimar.”

Tenzi, who was standing near Sinclair, stepped closer. “This is the western coastline of southern Kalimar. I estimate that we’re about thirty miles north of Sol Gier.”

Parker nodded. “That makes sense. However, getting to Sol Gier will be difficult with the high cliffs south of us.”

Brock nodded, thinking. “What about Sol Limar?”

Tenzi’s brow furrowed. “Sol Limar? There’s nothing there but old ruins. Why would you want to go there?”

Parker smiled. “He has a reason.” He turned toward Brock. “Sol Limar should be just about directly east of us, across the peninsula.”

Brock nodded. “Okay. Thanks to what the crew grabbed from the ship, it looks like we have enough food here to get by a bit. I suggest we rest for a few hours and then follow this canyon inland. We’ll see if we can scrounge up more food along the way. Regardless, at least we have fresh water as long as we’re near this river.”

.   .   .

Brock hopped across the rocks, over the flowing water of the shallow river. As they traveled inland, the river had gradually become smaller and was now merely fifteen feet across.

Pausing at the far side, he glanced back to see the others following along in a line. Ashland deftly hopped from rock to rock across the river, giving him a smile as he held a hand out to help her onto the bank. He turned and resumed cutting a path through the damp wood, swinging his staff to push the undergrowth of brush and long grass aside.

The sky was beginning to dim, with the sun now behind the clouds to the west. They had been climbing up the canyon for hours, and their belongings remained damp from the storm.

Brock meandered through the woods, seeking the easiest route while trying to avoid the sloppy red mud that dotted the forest floor. Something burst from the undergrowth and scurried across his path, causing him to jump. It was a large bird, unfamiliar to Brock. Stopping, he motioned for Ashland to quiet. She stopped and he motioned to Parker, who was a step behind her.

“It’s a crowster,” Parker whispered as he slid his bow from his shoulder. He eased an arrow from the quiver and took aim. A “thwap” sounded as the arrow pierced the neck of the bird. It stumbled about and flapped its wings for a bit before tumbling into the fallen leaves.

Benny exclaimed from behind Parker. “Whoa! Nice shot, Parker.”

“Thanks,” he said, pulling another arrow out. “Have everyone stay here and remain quiet. There should be others, since they typically nest in groups.”

Brock and Ashland remained still as Parker slid past them. He took perhaps another ten steps before three more of the large birds burst from the brush and scurried in different directions.

Parker’s bow followed one of them, firing and hitting it in the breast to knock the bird over. It twitched briefly before lying still. Parker drew another arrow from the quiver before creeping deeper into the woods. When Brock lost sight of him through the trees, he decided it was time to claim their dinner.

“Benny, grab this bird, and I’ll get the one up ahead,” Brock said, pointing at the first bird. “It looks like the fruit we found earlier won’t be all we have for dinner tonight.”

Benny nodded and weaved his way through the trees toward the bird. “That’s good to hear because I’m starving. I’m sure the others feel the same way.”

After grabbing the second bird, Brock turned toward the others waiting behind him. He waved them forward as he followed the route Parker had taken. A minute later, he spotted Parker pulling an arrow from a third bird. Brock pulled the arrow from the bird he carried, handing it to Parker when he reached him.

“Good shooting. It looks like you’ve fed us again. You’re going to feel a lot of love from everyone at dinner tonight,” Brock said, smiling at Parker.

Parker smiled back. “Good. I could use a little love right now.”

Brock passed Parker and led the group uphill through the forest. He soon noticed a rushing sound ahead, the noise steadily growing louder. Angling back toward the river, he stepped to the bank as the sun broke through the clouds behind him. The beam of sunlight shined onto a tall waterfall, creating a rainbow in the mist rising from the rushing water. It was an amazing sight.

Ashland stepped next to him. “Wow. It’s beautiful.”

He smiled, putting his arm around her. Shipwrecked and lost in a foreign land, yet Ashland still appreciated the beauty surrounding them. How could he not love this girl?

.   .   .

After breaking camp the next morning, they left the waterfall behind to resume their uphill journey. When the canyon leveled to become a saddle, the river split in two small rivulets, dribbling down from the peaks to the north and the south. They stopped to refill their skins one last time before continuing east.

Brock skirted around a peak and led them along a ridgeline, which they followed for much of the day. They ate sparingly, trying to ration the leftover crowster and the sweet fruit they had collected near the coast. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep them going.

For hours, they hiked, and the miles slid past. When they reached the eastern end of the ridgeline, the sun was low in the sky behind them. Brock paused and surveyed the view, trying to determine the best route. If they wanted to continue eastward, he could see no option but to descend and cross the valley ahead. After taking a drink, he capped his water skin and began seeking a route down.

Motion in a clearing at the valley floor caught his eye. Hope spiked in his chest when he saw a person running across the clearing thousands of feet below, disappearing when the wooded hillside obscured them from view. If there were people here, food and shelter couldn’t be far away. His eyes continued to scan the clearing, tucked against a sheer rock wall.

Ashland stopped beside him. “What a view.”

“I saw someone down there.” He pointed toward the clearing.

“Are you sure?” She peered where he pointed.

“We are heading that direction anyway. Let’s watch the clearing as we descend to see if they show up again.”

Brock glanced backward, seeing the others stopping to drink from their water skins. He waved them along and began the long descent.

CHAPTER 41

The thick forest offered no view of the valley floor during their decent, but Brock could feel something ahead, something big. He could almost hear it, but he had no idea what it was. The feeling began to eat at him, making him anxious. Something inside of him yearned to discover what it was, just to know what could make him feel this way.

Ashland caught up to him, whispering. “Brock, I don’t know if this is real, but I feel like there’s something ahead. It’s…noisy.”

He stopped and looked her in the eye. “You feel it too?”

She nodded. “What is it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I hear it. It’s so loud that I almost can’t think.”

The others began to catch up to them, clustering as they stopped to drink from their skins.

“Does anyone else…feel or hear something ahead?” Brock asked.

“I do.” Tipper nodded. “Libby does too. We were wondering what it was.”

Benny squinted, looking at Tipper then back to Brock. “What are you guys talking about?”

Tipper spoke again. “I don’t know, but there is something ahead. It’s a buzzing noise that is messing my head up.”

“Yes. Exactly.” Brock nodded. “Nobody else feels…or hears what we are talking about?”

Blank stares looked back at him.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Brock said before turning toward Benny. “It has something to do with Chaos. I can feel it.”

Benny nodded. “That’s why you four can feel it, and we can’t.”

“I believe so.” Brock nodded in return. “I think we better be careful. Everyone, try to be quiet. No talking until we find out what lies ahead.”

As he resumed the snaking descent, he could feel the pressure growing. They were getting close. After a few more minutes, Brock spotted a rocky outcropping where the trees parted and the sky opened. Climbing up the rocks, Brock laid on his belly and eased to the edge.

In the low light of the setting sun, his eyes scanned the wide clearing far below. The sheer rock wall of the opposing hillside faced Brock, providing a good view of the large cave at its base. Tall, human-like shapes moved about at the mouth of the cave. Their long black hair and lumbering gait were familiar to Brock. The timbre of a single high-pitched wail echoed through the valley, setting his hair on end. Dread and fear threatened to take over, triggering a cold sweat.

“What was that?” Benny asked from behind.

Brock turned his head, whispering. “Hush. Don’t make a noise or we’re dead.”

His companions quieted and looked toward one another in confusion. Ashland slid next to Brock to get a view.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

Brock pointed toward the cave. “Those are banshees. Dozens of them.” Even as he said it, chills went down his spine.

“What? I’ve never heard of more than one,” she whispered. “How can this be?”

He whispered back. “I don’t know, but I do know that this is bad. Very bad.”

Benny slid in on the other side of Brock. “What’s happening?”

Brock pointed toward the cave. “Banshees.”

Benny shook his head. “That’s a lot of banshees. They’re big, right?”

“Yes. Ten feet tall,” Brock replied. “And there are dozens of them. Maybe more.”

A shorter form emerged from the cave, walking out in front of the gathered banshees. This one didn’t have the same lumbering gait as the others, nor did it have the same crazy long hair and torn clothing. The shorter one waved an arm, and the banshees broke into a run across the shadow-covered clearing as they headed north. Hoots and high-pitched wails sounded out as the shorter one ran among them. Each wail sent chills down Brock’s spine and increased the fear within his gut. Dark forms continued to pour from the cave, lumbering across the darkening field. He counted two hundred of the huge beasts before the scene quieted.

“What’s that?” Benny whispered, pointing toward the edge of the clearing.

Partly obscured by the trees, Brock saw the glowing red of a shifting shape hovering in the air. The edges of the thing danced in quick jerking motions.

“I don’t know,” Brock replied. “It’s almost as if it’s alive or something. I…”

Brock heard a buzzing sound as three banshees emerged from the sizzling red curtain of energy, as if materializing from nowhere. The beasts broke into a run, following the others to disappear into the forest at the north end of the clearing.

Brock’s throat tightened as a deepening fear gripped and twisted his insides. It all came together at once. The Banished Horde was back. They were back, and he now knew where they came from.

Part IV:

Visions of Truth

CHAPTER 42

“I know you’re wondering what’s happening,” Brock quietly said to the group sitting around the small fire. The sense of trepidation surrounding him was palpable, fear reflecting in the eyes facing him.

“I assume everyone has heard of the Banished Horde.” Heads nodded when he paused. “Well, it looks like they’ve returned.”

“What? How is that possible?” Lars asked. “They were destroyed hundreds of years ago.”

“Really, Lars?” Brock raised an eyebrow. “Were you there to see it? Do you know where they even came from?”

Lars shook his head. “Well, no. But…”

Benny clapped the big guy’s shoulder. “It’s real, Lars. Brock and I researched them, learning all we could from a book we took from the Academy Library archives last year.” He paused, releasing a sigh. “Everything matches. It makes sense, too much sense. What we saw, what you heard, was the Horde. They’re back, and now we know what they are.”

“We do?” Parker asked, looking from Benny to Brock.

“They’re banshees.” Brock replied. “Perhaps the term came from a play on the word banished. Banished, Banshee. Pretty similar, wouldn’t you say?”

Sinclair released a laugh, which sounded forced. “Banshees. They’re just a wild tale used to scare children. There’s no such thing.”

“How can you say that, captain?” Brock asked. “Didn’t you see what happened on the docks of Sol Polis? Did your eyes tell you it was just a wild tale?”

Sinclair’s gaze scanned the faces circled around the small fire. “That was real? I thought it was just a dream I had after I hit my head.”

The quiet night was disturbed when a high-pitched wail sounded in the distance, causing everyone’s eyes to search their surroundings. The darkness had never seemed more frightening. Another chill caused Brock to shiver, one of many since arriving in the valley. The wail reminded him of the banshee that killed Hank.

“Tipper and I had a run-in with a banshee last year. It was horrifying. The beast was twice my height and had solid red eyes, no whites showing. With pale skin, long black hair, and sharp talons, it was a creature from nightmares. I watched it take a crossbow bolt in the shoulder, barely pausing before it advanced and tossed a grown man aside as if he was a child’s doll. Each time it wailed, fear overwhelmed me. Luckily, the banshee fell off a high cliff and plunged to its death. If it hadn’t fallen, Tipper and I would be dead instead.”

Parker spoke next, his voice somber. “Sol Polis fell to the Horde. You all saw it. The city is lost. If they could sweep over the largest city in the Empire in mere hours, what chance does the rest the Empire have?”

“To make matters worse, their numbers are growing.” Brock pointed east. “We just saw hundreds of them run to join their dark army.”

“What do you mean, Brock?” Cam asked. “Where are they coming from?”

Brock looked toward Cam, a bit surprised to hear his voice. The big guy had been more quiet than usual since the shipwreck. For that matter, Brock realized that Puri hadn’t spoken in that time either. He then remembered the horses, and how Cam and Puri had to put them down. The horrible, yet necessary, act must still be weighing on them.

Brock pointed toward the canyon mouth, where the banshees had been seen. “They have something down there. More banshees are coming from it.” Brock looked to Benny. “I think that thing is where all of the noise is coming from. What is it?”

Benny scratched his head and adjusted his spectacles. “Well, it appears to be some sort of a doorway. They’re coming through the portal from somewhere else. I have no idea where from, but I’m sure that’s what we saw.”

Brock nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Brock,” Ashland said, drawing his attention. “Earlier, while we were sitting here, I tried to meditate to calm my nerves.” She didn’t need to explain why. “When I did, I could feel the wrongness of this thing radiating within the calm of Order. The discord it was causing made it difficult to find my own sense of Order. It feels almost like some sort of giant wound that has torn into our world.”

Something clicked within Brock, a puzzle piece sliding into place to reveal a hidden secret.

He nodded. “You’re right. It is a wound. A wound that we must close, just as we were told by the Duratti Prophecy.” His mind was working through something larger. “What you feel is the discord of Chaos. It is a wound, as all wounds and illnesses are forms of Chaos invading our body. This wound is just larger; it’s a wound in the world itself.”

Ashland’s eyes grew wide. “Wounds are a form of Chaos? I’ve never thought of that, but it makes sense.” She nodded. “Now that you say it, it seems so obvious.”

“What are you talking about, man?” Sinclair asked. “You aren’t making sense.”

Brock took a deep breath, preparing to deliver his message. He needed their commitment.

“I’m saying that the Empire and every single person within it will fall to this dark army. You heard Parker. This dark force was already enough to crush Sol Polis. Worse yet, the size of the Horde continues to grow. They’re getting reinforcements through this doorway they created.” His eyes scanned those facing him. “We are doomed.”

Everyone was quiet as a distant wail sounded, contributing to the eerie feel of the surrounding darkness.

“Well, thanks for the uplifting talk. I feel quite better now,” Sinclair said.

Brock leaned forward. “Since we are doomed if we do nothing, let’s do something to stop them. Let’s fight back.”

Lars looked around and asked, “What do you mean? What can we do?”

Brock’s eyes searched the faces before him, highlighted by the dull orange glow of the flickering campfire.

“If we can destroy this doorway, it will prevent more of the Horde from coming through and would limit their numbers to those who are already here.” Brock needed to inspire them, persuade them. “It might give us a chance. This isn’t a fight about any single city or province, but about the survival of humanity.”

A long moment passed before Lars spoke, breaking the silence.

“That sounds like suicide.” Then, he smiled. “I like it.”

Lars was usually the doubter in the group. With him on board, Brock knew the others would agree. He just needed a plan.

CHAPTER 43

Thin beams of sunlight streamed through the surrounding trees, appearing like small threads of hope after a long and sleepless night. The sun hovered mid-way to its apex as the group waited in nervous silence for Cam’s return.

Brock looked toward the hillside where they had camped the prior evening. Though the mountain obscured the camp from where the banshees gathered, he was glad to see no trace of smoke rising from the small fire they had smothered before sunrise. He didn’t want give a reason for the monsters to investigate the narrow ravine despite their purported aversion to sunlight.

Hearing crunching leaves, Brock turned to find Cam weaving his way through the trees. As his big friend approached, Brock’s heart began thumping in anticipation.

Slowing as he drew close, Cam nodded. “I haven’t seen any come through for over an hour. They’re huddled within the cave as you guessed, not making a sound.”

Brock nodded. “Good. Let’s hope they’re sleeping. I’ll take any advantage we can get right now.”

Turning to the others, Brock spoke louder. “This is your last chance for questions before we begin. Does everyone know what they’re to do?”

Heads nodded in reply, their eyes reflecting everything from resolve to terror. Brock wasn’t sure which end of the spectrum was appropriate. Perhaps both.

“Okay, Lars. Light the first branch, and we’ll follow you. Stop just before the clearing and then we’ll use it to light the others.”

He stepped closer to Ashland as Lars broke out his flint. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, looking resolute. “Yes.”

He smiled at her. “We have each other. We can’t lose.”

She gave him a shaky smile before closing her eyes. When he stepped away to give her space, a tap on his shoulder caused him to turn.

Cam bent and whispered in his ear. “There are a lot of them. Dozens or more. I can’t tell how many were in the cave before I began my watch.”

Brock nodded, trying not to show the fear he felt inside. He closed his eyes, seized the fear, and embraced it. It was easy to feel the tumult of Chaos surrounding him. Drawing in as much as he could, he felt as if his eyes would burst from the pressure. He opened them to focus on the Power rune drawn on his hand, pouring the raging torrent of energy into it. The exhausted feeling that normally struck after using Chaos lasted for just a moment. As the rune began to glow, a surge of strength flowed through his veins, making his vision a bit unstable. The glow pulsed red before returning to the black of charcoal.

Brock turned to find Lars holding a large burning branch as he nodded and led the others eastward. Most carried dead tree branches while Niles and Tenzi trailed the group, each carrying cloaks tied into a ball. Brock handed his staff to Libby, who stared down at it.

“Stay back with Ashland and hold this until my hands are free. Remember to remain clear of the action.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke softly. “Keep Ashland safe, because you’re her eyes. Keep yourself safe, too. We need you at the end.”

She nodded, fear reflecting in her eyes.

He turned toward Ashland, who nodded that she was ready. They each stepped to either end of a big fallen tree, which had broken off about twenty feet from its base. Brock grabbed onto the thick roots, easily lifting the three-foot diameter trunk. Despite being aware of his Chaos-enhanced strength, it was odd for the tree to feel so light, as if it were a hollow shell. Ashland held the other end as if it were a twig, her strength enhanced by a Power rune as well. She gave him a nod and they began following the others through the woods.

After walking a quarter mile, the trees thinned. Lars paused at the edge of the woods, using the burning limb to light the branches the others held. With all branches lit, everyone turned toward Brock and waited for the signal.

Brock nodded, trying to show confidence despite his twitching nerves. “Go.”

Lars led them out into the open, running toward the wide cave. Cameron passed him and tossed his burning branch into the mouth of the cave. One by one, the party members ran to the cave mouth and threw a burning branch inside. Lars, Cam, and Puri stood before the dark opening with their swords brandished and ready.

After dropping the tree, Ashland ran toward the portal from which the banshees had appeared. Brock stared at it, getting his first good look at the doorway as he moved to stand behind the thick tree trunk.

The portal was perhaps ten strides wide and nearly as tall. Sizzling red energy danced and pulsed at the edges while shapes and colors shimmered within the expanse of the doorway, making his eyes hurt as they tried to follow the chaotic movement. His focus shifted back to Ashland as she seated herself on the ground beside the doorway. She crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and she slipped into meditation with Libby looming behind her.

He turned back toward the cave as Niles and Tenzi ran in with their bundles. They stopped just before the growing fire and hastily worked at the knots tied into the cloaks. Tenzi’s came free first and she lifted the cloak high to dump the bundle of leaves tied within. Moments later, Niles dumped a pile of leaves a few feet from where Tenzi’s leaves had fallen. They both ran away, darting past Brock as the smoldering leaves began to fill the cavern with dark smoke.

Brock glanced to the cliff wall beside the cave and saw Tipper using a chunk of blackened coal to trace a rune onto the rock. Howls and wails of anger blasted from the dark maw of the cave and a dagger of ice-cold fear plunged deep into Brock’s soul. Everyone froze.

A massive beast burst through the smoke, holding an arm up to shield the sun from its eyes as it neared the mouth of the cave. With long, twisted black hair and impossibly pale skin, the banshee’s torn clothing covered its gigantic ten-foot tall frame. The lumbering gait of the monster covered large chunks of ground with each step as it stumbled forward. The banshee’s arm shifted, allowing Brock to see eyes of solid red. It paused and blasted another bone-chilling wail from a mouth filled with pointed teeth, matching the long dark talons adorning each massive finger. Brock felt stuck in place, his head fogged by fear.

The banshee stepped toward Cam, who ran in to meet it. A whirling sound sang out as Cam’s silver longsword flashed toward the beast. Brock’s head cleared, the fear subsiding even before Cam’s blade sliced across the midsection of the tall monster. The banshee looked down in shock as Cam jumped backward. A thump sounded as the monster fell to its knees, attempting to pull its spilling intestines back inside.

Everyone sprang to action simultaneously. Brock bent and lifted the big tree, readying himself. Tipper resumed working on the rune, which was now almost finished. Puri leapt past Cam with a wide slice, taking the head off the eviscerated banshee. As the huge head bounced away and its body tumbled to the side, others began to emerge from the dark smoke within the cave.

Brock yelled. “Step aside!”

Lars jumped back to one side, Puri and Cam to the other, and the path opened wide before Brock as four more banshees emerged from the black smoke. Brock heaved the tree and it flew toward the cave to smash into the chests of three of the monsters, knocking them back into the fire. The dead tree ignited, the fire latching onto the dead dry bark.

Impossibly, the wails from the cave became even more horrible. As before, Brock’s brain felt addled as fear gripped him tight. The sound of Cam’s blade whistling through the air sang in Brock’s ears and fear’s grip slid away. Cam’s longsword lopped the hand off the fourth banshee as it took a swipe at Puri. She then lunged and jammed her sword upward into the crotch of the beast, burying it to the hilt. She tried to pull the blade free, but her gripped slipped and she stumbled backwards. The banshee howled and lifted its good arm for another strike. Before the arm could descend, Cam cut through its thick leg just below the knee and the beast fell backward with a howl of pain.

Brock turned toward Libby. “The staff!” he shouted.

Libby ran closer, tossing it before running back toward Ashland. Brock snatched the staff with one hand and spun toward the cave as two of the banshees freed themselves from the tree. One broke into a run, its hair on fire as it charged toward Lars. Jumping aside, Lars spun about to slam his huge great sword into the banshee’s lower back as it ran past. The monster stumbled and fell facedown. Lars climbed onto the beast and plunged his sword into its ribcage.

The other banshee burst from the cave and ran toward Brock. Not waiting for it to reach him, Brock leapt toward it. He flew thirty feet up into the air before descending. As he dropped toward the banshee, he swung the metal-plated staff in an underhand arc. The Chaos-charged strike smashed into the side of the brute’s head. Brock twisted with the recoil, careful to bend his knees and absorb the impact as his feet contacted the ground. When he turned back toward the banshee, it smashed onto the ground with its brains oozing from the gaping hole in its head.

Turning to check on Tipper’s progress, Brock found that his friend had his eyes closed, and was standing before the completed the rune. Brock sprinted toward Tipper as the rune began to glow bright red. Slowing when he reached the cliff wall, he turned and shouted to the others.

“Run! Everyone get clear of the cave!”

He turned to find Tipper now staring at the red glow of the charged rune.

Brock shouted, “You did it, Tip. Now run!”

With wide eyes, Tipper turned and bolted. Dozens of angry wails began to blast from the cave, the ear-piercing screams building to a nightmarish crescendo. Terror gripped Brock as he stood beside the cave entrance. The fog of fear clouded his mind, locking him into an internal struggle. He was having a hard time thinking, let alone moving. Fighting through it, Brock tried to focus. Blinking, he found huge humanoid shapes emerging from the dark wall of smoke surrounding the burning tree. Gritting his teeth, he brought his staff back and thrust it out, driving the metal-capped butt of the staff into the rune drawn upon the rock. As soon as it hit, he spun and launched himself from the cave. Landing in a full run, fifty feet away, he distanced himself from the cliff as quickly as possible. A deafening rumble roared toward him, as if he had made the whole mountain angry. He felt the force of it in his chest, drawing closer even though he ran faster than humanly possible. As he passed Tipper, he reached out and scooped him into one arm without slowing. Bits of rock pelted Brock’s legs as he sped away.

In mere seconds, he closed the five-hundred-foot gap to where the others stood watching the scene unfold. Slowing to a stop, he set Tipper down and turned to see the results of their gambit.

The cave was gone, buried beneath thousands of tons of tumbling rock and dirt, which was sending a dust cloud high into the air. A good portion of the cliff had fallen, affected by the Brittle rune that Tipper had drawn. Brock didn’t know how many banshees were in the cave, but they were no longer a problem.

He glanced to the side, seeing Ashland still sitting in meditation near the shimmering doorway. The pile of debris from the landslide ended just two strides from where she sat. Brock closed his eyes and thanked Issal that the landslide hadn’t buried her as well.

He faced his companions with a nod. “Okay. The hard part is over.” He pointed toward the portal. “Now we have to protect Ashland until the doorway’s closed.”

CHAPTER 44

The mood of the group matched the bright sun high above. With every trace of the banshees now buried beneath the landslide, they just needed to wait for Ashland to get the portal fully closed. Examining it as he drew close, Brock found that the opening had shrunk significantly and was now half its original size. He and his companions slowed to a stop before the portal.

“When the first banshee came out, I couldn’t even move because I was so scared,” Lars said to Cam. “But when you attacked it, everything suddenly got better.”

Brock’s brow furrowed. “I felt the same thing. Until Cam began swinging that singing sword, I was frozen by fear.”

Cam shrugged. “It never bothered me. Those banshees are big all right, but they’re also slow. As long as you face one at a time, they’re not that bad.”

“Well, it didn’t bother me much after that.” Lars said with a smile. “I even got one. Did you see it?”

“You sure did, Lars.” Benny clapped him on the shoulder. “You got him good.”

Brock stepped closer to Cam. “Cam, let me look at your sword.”

Cam handed him the longsword, still smeared with banshee blood. Brock noticed a rune engraved in the fluted blade, near the hilt. He held it closer to examine the rune. Though it wasn’t familiar, he would bet that it meant something.

He handed the sword back to Cam. “There’s something about this sword and the rune engraved on it.”

Taking it, Cam looked at the blade. “Well, the blade is named Silencer. Maybe the name is tied to the rune?”

Benny stepped closer to examine the sword. “You might be right, Cam.”

A buzzing noise sounded and static electricity sizzled in the air, causing Brock’s hair to stand on end. A large curved blade flashed past him, taking Perry’s head off before slicing right through Lars’ chest. Horror gripped Brock as the upper half of Lars’ body fell away and the lower half collapsed to the ground. He would never forget the surprised look on his big friend’s face as Brock watched the moment unfold. Everyone stood motionless, locked in a state of shock as blood spurted from the severed remains of their comrades.

“Lars!” Benny screamed in horror.

The buzz sounded again as another curved blade flew out of the portal, the flash of rotating metal tearing through Niles and Bart, sending body parts and blood spraying about.

Screams and shouts sounded as people began to scurry from the scene.

“Everyone behind the doorway! Now!” Brock shouted as he ran to the side, stopping beside Ashland. The others scrambled from the area, around the edges of the doorway. Brock turned toward Libby.

“Draw the rune, right here.” He pointed at the ground before him. “Be sure to point it toward the clearing before the doorway and be ready.”

The girl nodded, her large brown eyes appearing even wider than normal.

Brock turned toward Cam. “I’m going to help Ashland. You’ve got to protect us.”

Cam glanced at Puri, both of them nodding.

Brock sat beside Ashland and closed his eyes. Taking a calming breath, he began seeking his center. He struggled to locate the cool peacefulness of Order through the raging noise of Chaos hovering nearby. Once he was able to tap into his source of Order, he reached toward the wound and found a massive storm of red symbols tearing about. He could also sense Ashland trying to calm the storm, surrounding it with the harmony of Order. Pushing with his will, he joined her. Even strengthened by the Power rune, the pressure of resistance was tremendous, a thousand times worse than any wound he had healed.

He heard wailing and shouts but remained focused as he and Ashland pulled at the force of Order all about them to close the portal. The symbols began to unravel faster and faster, accelerating behind the momentum of the healing. The pressure dropped away and a loud pop sounded, startling Brock and Ashland to open their eyes.

On the ground before them was the twitching upper half of a banshee, sliced at an angle from the middle of its back to its waist when the doorway slammed shut. The other half was somewhere else, wherever the beasts came from.

Loud wails sent waves of sheer terror through Brock. A small group of banshees blocking their eyes from the sun, stood just twenty feet away. Two dead banshees littered the ground nearby. Cam took a wide swing with his sword to keep the banshees at bay. The whistle of the sword cut through the terror, freeing Brock’s mind. He grabbed Ashland’s hand and scrambled to his feet.

“Everyone get back, behind the rune,” Brock yelled before turning to Libby. “Now, Libby! Use your fear!”

Cam and Puri backed away from the four remaining banshees. As they parted around Libby, the rune she had sketched in the dirt began to glow red. It pulsed once and the ground before the rune burst, rippling forward in a tidal wave of earth. The wave smashed through the banshees and swept their legs out as it passed beneath them. They tumbled to the ground awkwardly. Two of the banshees rolled about as the other two climbed back to their feet. Another wave blasted from the rune, pummeling the banshees with torn earth as it tossed them backward and covered them with debris.

Everyone backed away as the shockwaves continued to pound forth, again and again, tearing through the clearing. In less than two minutes, the banshees were beyond the rubble of the landslide, buried beneath the layers of earth. Though Libby had proven to be weak in her ability to channel Chaos, far weaker than Brock, the Shockwave rune proved to be devastating.

Closing his eyes, Brock said a prayer for Lars, Niles, and the sailors, their corpses now buried beneath the blasted earth. He opened them to witness a shockwave blast across the clearing for a couple hundred feet.

Turning to the others, Brock found looks ranging from shock to sadness. Benny wiped tears from his eyes. Tipper did the same as Libby buried her head in Tipper’s chest to cry. Parker shouldered his bow and stared down at the ground, as if trying to avoid looking at the field where Lars and Niles had died. Tenzi glanced up at him with a look of concern in her eyes. Sinclair took his hat off and held it over his heart as he closed his eyes in prayer. Puri sheathed her sword, looking grim. Cam did the same and appeared to be doing all he could to not cry. Brock understood, of any of them, Cam had been closest to Lars.

Gathering himself, Brock spoke in a solemn tone. “It appears that our friends have gotten a burial. It’s not a proper funeral pyre, but at least they’ll be left in peace. May Issal watch over them.” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to think on what they needed to do next. “I don’t know how long this will last,” he pointed back at the shockwaves, repeatedly obliterating everything in their path, “but we’re done here. Let’s go back to camp and rest for a bit.”

Saddened by the loss of their companions, he led the silent group back into the woods. Though they had accomplished the impossible, he didn’t feel victorious. An overwhelming sense of dread began to seep inside of him, dread from the realization that he would likely lose other friends in the days to come.

CHAPTER 45

Brock blamed himself. He had assumed the role of leader and his companions had relied on him, looking to him for guidance and protection. After the fierce and frantic attack on the banshee hideout, he had allowed himself to relax. The success of their plan had left him feeling confident. That confidence resulted in the death of those he led. The image of the huge blade slicing through Lars haunted him, etched firmly and sure to cause future nightmares.

He glanced toward the ground and noticed the attack plan he had sketched in the dirt during the early morning hours. In frustration, he jumped up and began kicking the dirt, creating a cloud of dust as he destroyed the diagram. The result was not exceptional, merely what one would normally expect. Apparently, the effect of the Power rune had fully dissipated.

With the burst of frustration expended, he stopped to stare down the hill into the narrow wooded ravine. Feeling empty and too tired to cry, his eyes lost focus and he stared numbly into space. A pair of arms appeared from behind, wrapping about his waist. He felt Ashland’s body against his back as she hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder. Even before he heard it, he knew she was about to speak in his head.

I’m sad and I miss Lars too, but you need to stop blaming yourself. Lars knew it was risky. We all did. The fact that any of us still live is because of your actions and leadership. Focus on what we have, not on what we’ve lost.

When he didn’t respond, her tone turned to scolding. Don’t let the rest of us die because you feel guilty. We don’t have time for self-pity.

Brock winced at the harsh words. She was right, though. Four of members of the group might be dead, but the nine surviving members still needed him. Ashland needed him.

He nodded, hugging her arms to himself. What would I do without you?

I expect that you’d get yourself killed. She replied, him feeling her smile through their connection.

She released him and Brock turned to face his companions, who had finished consuming the last meager scraps of food that remained. He realized that not a word had been spoken since returning to camp, over an hour earlier. It was likely because they were all mourning those who died, as Brock was. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the luxury to mourn as they should or more deaths would follow.

Brock cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “Unless anyone objects, we should pack up and move on. We’re out of food and our water supply won’t last more than another day.”

The others stood and began gathering their things. Brock walked over to the trail they had blazed earlier and waited for the others. When everyone appeared ready, he headed down toward the ravine.

Tenzi quickened her pace so she could walk beside Brock.

“Brock, I’ve got a few questions,” she began.

Brock nodded, trying to maintain composure. “Go on.”

“What happened back there?” she asked. “The things I saw you do…I don’t understand how it’s possible. Was it some sort of magic or something?’

He sighed. Explaining Chaos was a challenge.

“I guess it is a kind of magic.” He shrugged. “We were using a force called Chaos. It’s something we discovered about a year back. Thank Issal for that.”

After a moment, Tenzi spoke again. “I saw you become super strong, tossing that huge tree like it was nothing. Then you began leaping around like some kind of human grasshopper. You made a whole cliff crumble into a landslide, and Libby did something to cause waves of dirt to blast across the field.” She paused, shaking her head in disbelief. “What else can you do with it?”

Brock ducked under a branch and turned toward her. “Honestly, I have no idea. We know of a few other things, but I get the feeling that there’s far more we don’t know.”

She walked in quiet for a few strides before speaking. “Well, I’m scared to think of how things would have gone without you guys. Those…monsters are the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. If there’s an army of them, I can’t imagine what we could do to stop them.”

Brock thought about what she said. Thousands of banshees would be unstoppable, even with the help of their small group of Chaos users. How could mankind survive? He hoped that the answers were somewhere down the road ahead.

.   .   .

They walked in silence without complaints of hunger. With nothing to do about it, there was no sense in complaining. Brock’s body shook and quivered as he walked, starved of nourishment.

He looked up at the sun, hiding behind a puffy cloud. It was at about the same angle as when they left their camp near the banshee cave the day prior. In that time, he had eaten nothing but a few berries they gathered along the way. It had been almost two days since they had consumed a decent meal. To make matters worse, their water supply was now exhausted. He thought of how ironic it would be to survive the skirmish with the banshees only to die of malnourishment.

Lifting a heavy leg, Brock climbed onto a small boulder resting atop the ridge they were cresting. He looked toward the eastern horizon, finding the ocean looming beyond another line of hills. His eyes drifted to the valley below, thickly populated with leaf trees. He noticed a long gap in the trees along the valley floor, cutting from the south to the northeast. Squinting, he could make out the brown of a roadway, intermittently appearing between gaps in the trees. His eyes followed it and he paused when he noticed something.

A wagon appeared to have run into a tree, three bodies scattered upon the road near it. He stared hard at them, watching for any sign of movement. Seeing no activity, he turned to face the others as they gathered on the trail behind him.

“There’s a road at the foot of this ridge. I see a wagon near the road.” He pointed toward the brown strip, showing here and there through the trees below. “Let’s head that way to see if anyone can help us or if there’s anything we can use.”

Searching the eyes of those who followed him, Brock found nothing but blank stares. Had hope completely deserted them? Finally, Ashland nodded, followed by Tipper, Benny, and Cam. Brock felt relieved that some of them still responded. He hopped off the boulder and started weaving his way down the hillside.

Sapped of energy, they moved at a snail’s pace. Even going downhill took more effort than they could muster without forcing each step. It was almost two hours later when they reached the road.

Even on the flat surface of the road, their pace was lethargic. It was as if their legs moved while their minds slept, lost in the haze of hunger.

They rounded a bend and the scene that Brock had spied from atop the ridge came into view. A covered wagon leaned hard against a tree, missing one wheel. The carcasses of two horses lay beyond the wagon, torn and shredded. The remains of three bloody bodies were strewn upon the road, left in a twisted mess of red, white, and pink.

As Brock neared the site, he was able to identify the bodies as a man, a woman, and a boy. The clothing and size were the indicators, for two of them no longer had a head and the third had no face. Worse yet, their arms and legs had been shredded, chewed to the bone. Flies flitted about the corpses, filling the air with their buzzing. Brock held his hand over his nose against the smell of rotting flesh.

He turned back toward his companions. “I’m going to check the wagon for food and water.”

Puri nodded grimly. “I will help.”

The others remained silent, keeping a distance from the gruesome scene. Brock pulled his extra shirt from his pack and tied it around his head to cover his nose and mouth. Puri found some cloth to do the same. He gave her a nod, and they walked toward the wagon.

As they passed the bodies of the boy and the woman, Brock did his best to remain focused beyond them, having already seen more than he wished. Once past the corpses, he approached the wagon.

Pulling aside the rear flap, he found a number of crates, sacks, and a barrel piled into the lower side of the angled wagon bed. He reached for the nearest crate and slid it toward him. With a grunt, he lifted it from the wagon and set it on the ground. Puri drew her dagger and began to pry the lid. Her fingers slid into the gap she had created, pulling the lid back to reveal the red and green peels of apples.

Through the oppressing hunger and thirst that had gripped him, a fountain of joy bubbled within Brock and he let out an involuntary chuckle. Puri looked at him, nodding.

She turned her head toward the others. “Cameron! Come over!”

Without a word, he ran toward them.

Brock turned back to the wagon and removed a heavy burlap sack. He didn’t need to untie it to know it contained potatoes. Despite the grim scene around him, his spirits began to lift. He turned and handed the sack to Puri as Cam arrived to scoop up the apple crate. The two left to join the others as Brock slid the flap aside and crawled onto the wagon bed. Prying the lid from another crate revealed dried beef wrapped in tight bundles. He replaced the lid on the crate and pushed against the barrel, feeling it heavy with sloshing liquid. Rocking it from side to side, he spun the barrel around to reveal a spigot. Carefully, he worked it loose and clear liquid began to seep from it. He bent and put his mouth to spigot, eagerly slurping the seeping water.

Brock lifted his face from the spigot and pushed it back in place. He began to giggle as a rush of hope and joy overcame him. Although banshees had murdered and eaten this poor family, they left behind a wagon filled with food and water. They would survive because of the Horde’s horrible actions.

CHAPTER 46

With full bellies and water to drink, everyone was feeling a bit better. Glancing westward, Brock found the just enough light remained in the sky to show the dwindling trail of smoke rising from the funeral pyre.

They had somehow found the will to perform the grim task of building the fire, knowing that they couldn’t leave those people’s bodies to scavengers. The poor family had endured enough. At the same time, Puri wouldn’t leave the horses to rot either. With reluctance, Brock and Cam agreed to help her push the damaged wagon onto the fallen horses. They then performed the ugly task of placing the dead family’s corpses into the wagon bed before lighting it ablaze. While the others carried the food and water to their campsite, the three watched the fire grow into a raging inferno. When the wagon collapsed onto the horses, lighting their flesh, Puri finally nodded. Cam put his arm around her shoulder and walked her toward camp as Brock followed along, expecting that Puri’s thoughts were of the horses that they had put to death before the ship sank.

Turning from the pyre, Brock glanced about the camp as his thoughts drifted to the remaining crates and sacks of food. While they had made a sizeable dent in the stores, there was more left than they could carry. When morning came, they would have to fill their water skins and load their packs before leaving the rest behind. It was certainly a better problem than the previous alternative.

Brock put his arm around Ashland as she leaned into him. They stared into the flames of their campfire as the others talked. He expected that they wanted to focus on anything but the events of the past few days. He couldn’t blame them.

Benny stood, grunting as he lifted the crate he had been using as a seat. Walking awkwardly as he carried the weight, he shuffled over and set the crate beside Brock. He released a sigh of relief as he sat back onto the makeshift seat.

“Hi, Brock,” Benny said. “How are you feeling?”

Brock glanced toward him, seeing concern reflecting in Benny’s eyes.

“I’m better now that we have food and water.”

Benny glanced back toward the smoldering pyre.

“It’s a grim business, dealing with the dead,” Benny said, his eyes landing back on Brock. “I’m afraid that this is merely the beginning.”

Brock nodded. Of that, he was sure.

“But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” Benny stared into the fire. “I’ve been thinking about what we’ve seen, about what we’ve learned.”

Brock remained silent, letting Benny explain what was bouncing around in that big brain of his.

“As we had guessed, the Horde doesn’t like sunlight. The assumption was confirmed by how they acted back there.”

Brock nodded. “It’s a good thing, too. It was a crucial part of the plan.”

“Yes, but there’s more.” Benny looked him in the eye. “When they make those wailing sounds, fear seems to grip my body and freeze my brain all at the same time. When Cam swings that sword of his, it all just washes away.”

Brock nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I felt, too.”

“That leads me to my next conclusion.” Benny sat upright, ready to reveal his findings. “The Horde can use Chaos.”

Brock realized that the statement was more of a confirmation than a revelation. He hadn’t thought on it much, but he knew that Benny was correct.

Benny continued. “First, that doorway was created by Chaos. In order for it to exist in the first place, I assume that the Horde somehow made it. Second, I think that the fear we feel when they scream is also Chaos-induced. Somehow, Cam’s blade is able to dispel the effect. It protects him as the user and when he swings the sword, it frees the others in the area from this supernatural fear.”

Brock nodded. “Benny, I think you’re right on both accounts.”

Benny smiled. “Thanks, Brock. That leaves me with some questions, though.”

Brock raised an eyebrow. “Only some? I have dozens of them.”

Benny rocked his shoulders as he stared at the fire. “Remember that smaller banshee? The one we saw the first night? He was leading the others, and they responded to him.” Benny turned to look Brock in the eyes. “The others seemed to be mindless beasts. I wonder what makes him different. I also wonder if there are others like him.”

Brock hadn’t thought of that. Could the smaller one be the key? If so, why?

Benny continued. “I also want to know how it’s possible for Cam’s blade to cancel active Chaos. From what we’ve seen, Chaos spells last for just an hour or two. Chaos hasn’t touched his blade in months or years, perhaps longer. Accordingly, there must be a way to create a permanent effect.”

Brock thought about it, deciding that Benny’s theory made sense. “You’re right, Benny. There must be a way. I wonder if the book we found covered that information. If so, I guess we’ll never know now.”

Looking into the flames of the fire, Benny nodded. “Yeah. I’d sure like to know how it works though. With it, we could do some pretty amazing stuff.”

Brock glanced back over at his friend, wondering what ideas were bouncing around in that big brain of his.

CHAPTER 47

Benny hated feeling scared and useless. In the past week, he had watched his friends save the day again and again while he cowered in fear.

First, he had shut down when they were locked in the citadel dungeon. While he had hoped that they might find a way out, he had played no part in it and had simply followed along.

As they had fled the city, his companions secured their path out of the citadel and to the ship, herding Benny along like a scared lamb. Aboard Star Dancer, it became even worse. When the huge storm began to toss the ship about, he huddled in his safe, dry cabin and prayed that they wouldn’t sink while Parker, Cam, and Brock helped the crew to keep them alive.

Once safe ashore, he had contributed nothing as others found food and water, started fires, and made the key decisions that kept the group alive. When attacking the banshees, his part had been nothing more than throwing a single burning branch into the cave before running.

Fear was the problem. He felt trapped by it. It felt as if a cocoon of fear had wrapped around him, threatening to smother him from existence. Fear had gripped Benny for days, coming to a deafening crescendo with the wails from those horrible banshees. Since, the echoes of those wails had filled his dreams. The memory of the fear set him on edge even during the day. He hated it.

Despite attempts to focus on anything else, his uselessness in the face of fear kept bubbling back to the surface. Deciding that he had enough, he focused on being strong and brave. It was time to put his fears to bed.

While Benny struggled with his own inadequacies, the others seemed to be in better spirits. With food in their stomachs, water to quench their thirst, and the low winter sun lighting their way, the dark days since leaving Sol Polis appeared to be behind them. Now traveling down the open roadway, the miles passed more rapidly. The sun was still above the horizon when the worn ivy-covered walls of Sol Limar came into view.

Brock spoke as they approached the ruins. “That must be Sol Limar. We can camp here and search the city tomorrow.”

Sinclair responded. “Hold on a minute.” Everyone stopped as he stepped closer to Brock. “I realize that we sailors have some fanciful tales, but it’s fairly well-known that this city is haunted.”

Brock stared at Sinclair with one brow raised. “Haunted? Are you referring to ghosts? I find it ironic that you did not believe in banshees but now you tell me that you believe in ghosts?”

Tenzi stepped next to Sinclair, looking up at Brock. “What the captain is saying is true. At least, it’s what all the sailors say. Nobody who enters the dead city returns. It’s why they never rebuilt.” She paused and looked down. “They say it’s possessed by restless spirits; those of who died here at the hands of the Horde.”

Benny felt a chill run up his spine, causing an involuntary shiver. He shook his head to clear it. Fear was not going to own him.

Brock looked at them both as he considered their words. “Is there anything to back these stories? Has anyone seen one of these evil spirits?”

Sinclair glanced at Tenzi, then back to Brock. “Well, other than stories of people entering the city and never being seen again, I guess not.”

Brock nodded. “Okay. Would you agree that there are other possible explanations for people entering and not returning?”

Sinclair turned to Tenzi again, who shrugged. “Well, of course.”

Brock patted Sinclair’s shoulder. “While I don’t completely dismiss the possibility of evil spirits, we should assume that something else is the cause for these disappearances.”

Benny looked at Sinclair’s face, sensing the man’s doubt though he nodded in agreement. Seeming satisfied, Brock turned to address the others.

“We know that the Horde is out there somewhere.” He pointed off to the northwest. “Thus, I think it best if we set up camp just inside the walls to hide us from view. Does anyone object?”

After receiving no response, Brock spoke again. “Okay. Let’s find a suitable spot to camp so we can build a fire. While we eat, I’ll explain what we need to do tomorrow and why.”

Benny knew what and why. Somewhere in those ruins is a secret, hidden for centuries, or so he hoped.

.   .   .

The fire had almost burned itself out, now barely more than orange coals. Upon nightfall, the temperature had dropped to leave a damp chill in the evening air. Wrapped within the warmth of his travel cloak, Benny rested comfortably with his head on his pack.

However, sleep was not coming easily. Thoughts of evil spirits kept creeping into his head, causing him to open his eyes and stare at the glow of the coals to ground himself. After a minute, he closed them to try again.

A howl sounded in the night, and his eyes flashed open. Another sounded, closer this time. He sat upright, his eyes searching the darkness surrounding the camp. Others sat up; some rose to their feet.

“What was that?” Parker whispered.

“I’ve heard that sound before.” Tipper said, looking at Brock.

Brock nodded. “Bacabra.”

Chills shook Benny’s spine again. He felt the tentacles of fear wrapping around him, beginning to squeeze the air from his lungs.

Brock spoke louder. “Everyone up. Arm yourself if you can. Gather around the fire and keep your back to it.”

Tenzi climbed to her feet, knives in both hands. “What’s a bacabra?”

Tipper responded. “It’s another creature from your nightmares.”

Brock nudged Tipper with his staff. “Hush, Tipper. You’re not helping.” He turned toward Tenzi. “It’s like a big dog, but three or four times larger. It has strong jaws and sharp claws. Don’t let it get close to you.”

“Um…thanks.” Tenzi said.

Benny’s eyes darted about, searching the night for signs of the beast. The remains of the city wall stood just twenty feet beyond the orange coals of the fire. They had opted to camp about a hundred feet from a break in the wall, where it had collapsed over the years. He glanced backward into the dark ruins and saw the silhouette of a tall mound not far from where they were camped.

A howl sounded, coming from near the break in the wall. Staring hard into the dark opening, Benny’s eyes strained to see if anything lurked in the darkness.

Then, something moved, something big. It blasted a howl, far louder than the previous ones. The sound caused the cold fear to resurface from within Benny.

Not waiting for it to attack, Cam and Puri began to stalk the beast. It held its ground, its massive head tilting toward Cam, to Puri, then back to Cam. Evil red eyes reflected in the dim light of the coals, sending another chill down Benny’s spine. A low growl rumbled and Benny’s hair stood on end.

With incredible speed, the beast leapt toward Puri. She dove low as Cam’s blade sliced toward the bacabra. The whirling sound of the blade loosened fear’s grip from Benny’s heart. The beast landed hard, rolling awkwardly as its severed front leg tumbled to the ground beside Puri.

Oddly, a whimper sounded from the bacabra as it tried to stand on its remaining three legs. As it rose to its feet, a shape appeared from the darkness. Leaping onto the bacabra’s back, Tenzi landed with a knife in each hand. Both blades sank deep into the beast’s neck, causing it to lurch and collapse as she rolled off into the long grass.

Cam and Puri approached the downed bacabra, but it did not move.

Another howl sounded in the distance, followed by others in the opposite direction. More bacabra stalked the night, coming toward them.

Brock shouted. “We need a more defensible location. Everyone to the mound in the center of the ruins. Go!”

Benny didn’t even remember turning to run. It just happened. Driven by fear, he weaved his way through the rubble. Past large stone blocks and fallen brick walls, he ran. Up crumbled stairs and through fallen arches, he ran. He focused on the mound ahead, seeking it as a symbol of hope and safety.

He hit the hillside at a run as more howls sounded from behind. They were drawing closer.

Reaching the top of the hill, he scrambled over a broken wall, trying to reach safety. Somewhere ahead, there had to be safety.

Benny spun about, his eyes searching the darkness. He could vaguely see the others approaching as they navigated the ruins below. Howls sounded near the wall, redirecting his focus back to their camp. There, he could see the lurking shapes of twenty or more bacabra on the hunt. Fear twisted Benny’s gut and tightened his throat. He stepped backward, and the ground dropped beneath him.

Air blasted from his lungs as he landed hard on his stomach. Sliding feet-first on his belly, he desperately tried to grab ahold of something to stop his rapid descent. The surface he was sliding down suddenly ended. His arms flailed in the darkness, legs kicking in the air as he fell. Fear seized his faculties, fear of falling some incredible distance to an unspeakable death.

At impact, everything went black.

CHAPTER 48

Brock ran as he ushered the others through the dark ruins. He paused to look back, seeing only Cam and Puri still behind him. When they ran past, he saw a number of dark shapes gathering at their campsite. Noses lifted toward the sky, releasing howls. There had to be a dozen bacabra, maybe more.

He turned and ran, catching up to Cam and Puri as they reached the hillside. They scrambled to the top and stopped before the broken wall, where they turned and readied themselves for an attack.

Dark shapes were now pouring through the ruins below. As the first beast rushed up the hill, Cam and Puri engaged it. Another followed closely behind, heading toward Brock. When the bacabra leapt, Brock jumped to the side and swung hard with his staff as the beast flew past. The staff connected with a rear leg of the creature, which caused it to stumble in the rubble of the fallen wall.

Not giving it a chance to recover, Brock lunged to swing the staff around and connected with the same rear leg. The leg swept from beneath the beast, and it to crashed onto its hip as it yelped in pain. Closing another step, Brock slammed his staff down on top of its head. The metal-capped end struck hard, and the bacabra collapsed.

Breathing heavily, Brock turned to find that Cam and Puri had dispatched the other bacabra. His gaze swung about to see another bacabra racing toward him when a whizzing sound went past, followed by a thwap and a second thwap. Brock dodged as the bacabra crashed to the ground where he had been standing. The animal was dead with an arrow poking from one eye and a knife from the other.

Brock spun about to find Parker and Tenzi standing side by side beyond the broken wall. Parker had an arrow ready while Tenzi held a knife by the tip, ready to throw.

“Thanks,” Brock flashed a smile before spinning back toward the city below.

His eyes searched the darkness as he prepared for the next attack. A bright white light suddenly lit up the night, revealing their surroundings. The bacabra below began to yelp, their red eyes squinting in the light as they backed away. Now able to see clearly, Brock counted more than a dozen others as they retreated from the mound. In moments, the bacabra disappeared into the night.

Turning, Brock had to raise a hand to block the brightness of the light. He squinted, able to make out a female figure standing below the light. It was Ashland.

What did you do? He sent to her.

I tried the other new rune. It turned out to be rather bright I think. She sent back.

Brock laughed. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

He heard her voice from behind the bright light. “Yes, but I could always hear it one more time.”

CHAPTER 49

Benny ran after Jimmy, ducking under a low branch. Weaving through the trees, their footsteps trampled the low ferns covering the forest floor. Jimmy disappeared through a thick cluster of pine boughs, the branches springing back after he passed through them. Benny held his hands up to protect his face as he squeezed between them.

The sky opened to reveal the old rock quarry below them. Jimmy squatted at the edge and eased himself onto the steep bank. As Jimmy slid down into the pit, Benny sat at the edge and prepared to do the same.

The thrill of speed tickled his stomach as he slid down the slope into the pit. Benny’s foot hit a rock, and he stumbled headfirst. Luckily, Jimmy was there to catch him, saving him from scraped hands or worse.

As Benny stood upright, he straightened his spectacles and flashed his friend a smile. Jimmy nodded his head toward the far end the quarry before turning and running in that direction. With a giggle, Benny broke into a run after his friend.

Downward they ran, hopping over the crumbled rocks scattered about. Benny guessed that every stone block that built the Selbin temple had come from this old quarry.

Jimmy stopped at the rear of the pit, looking at a wall of rock fifteen-feet tall. Dark metallic veins streaked here and there among a vast field of pale stone. Jimmy pointed at a thick vein as Benny came to a stop.

“That must be what old Bitters was talking about,” Jimmy said. “He was right when he said it looked like a darker version of silver.”

Benny nodded as he tried to catch his breath. He wasn’t nearly as athletic as Jimmy. “Yeah.” He took a breath. “That’s it alright.”

Benny pulled his pack off his back, withdrawing the jar he had brought. With a twist, he removed the cover as he spoke to Jimmy.

“Use the pick to see if you can break some off for me. Be careful not to hit with a glancing blow. We don’t want any sparks.”

Jimmy nodded, lifting the pick he had borrowed from his father. “Here goes.”

The pick flashed in the sunlight as it struck the dark streak of rock. A crack formed. He swung again, and the crack widened as a small piece fell to the ground. The third strike embedded the tip of the pick in the crack. With a twist and pull, Jimmy broke off a chunk the size of his fist. Benny was ready for it, holding the jar beneath it to catch the sparkling chunk of rock. A jolt of fear twisted deep inside as Benny watched the rock rattle inside the jar. Luckily, nothing happened.

Jimmy stepped closer and looked inside the jar. “Do you think that’s enough?”

Benny nodded, capping the jar. “From what Bitters told us, this is more than enough.”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Jimmy cautioned Benny. “This stuff sounds dangerous.”

.   .   .

The scene wavered, shifting. Benny glanced to the side, seeing Jimmy standing beside him. Just beyond, his mother was busy making dinner in the kitchen. His father sat near her, whittling a small statue of Issal from a chunk of wood. It amazed Benny how the man could so deftly create something from nothing.

“Are you sure this is safe, Benny?” Jimmy whispered.

Benny nodded, holding up the small glass vial. “It will be fine. There’s just a tiny bit of powdered rock in here. When it lights, it should flash a green flame like what Bitters described.”

Jimmy nodded. “Okay. You’re the brain here. I trust you.”

Benny set down the larger jar, holding the vial up in one hand. He glanced at his friend, who nodded. Feeling the oncoming thrill of discovery, Benny inhaled and tossed the vial into the fireplace. Involuntarily, he stepped backward in anticipation of what would happen. It was a moment frozen in time, etched within his memory.

Benny could feel the cool breeze coming off the nearby lake through the window behind him. Jimmy stood beside Benny, holding his hands to his ears as he looked on in anticipation. His Father remained focused on his intricate carving while his mother removed a fresh loaf of bread from the oven. It was a moment to remember, followed by a moment he wished he could forget.

The vial burst, a blast of green flame lashing out. The concussion launched Benny through the open window. Stunned, he stumbled to his feet as green flames turned orange. Despite the ringing in his ears, he could hear his mother screaming.

“Benny! Benny!”

He took a step toward the building and saw his friend through the open window. Jimmy was lying beside the big jar that held the rest of the rock and powder. The floor was on fire with flames nearing the jar. Realizing what would happen, fear gripped Benny’s insides, twisting them hard. He backed away from the building, stumbling across the road as the house exploded.

Pain surged through Benny’s shoulder. He hit the back of his head and everything went black.

.   .   .

His mother called his name.

“Benny!”

How could she call to him? She was dead, killed in the explosion, an explosion that was his fault. Sorrow racked his heart, aching from the loss of her and Jimmy.

“Benny!”

Benny’s eyes opened and blinked tears away. It was dark.

“Benny!” He heard in the distance.

He tried to sit up and cried out in pain when he put pressure on his right arm. His right collarbone was broken again. His head hurt. Using his left arm, he carefully sat upright. His left hand went to the back of his head, coming away wet. Even in the darkness, he knew that it was blood.

A glimmer of light above drew his eyes upward.

“Benny!” It was Ashland.

“I’m…” His voice squeaked, his throat dry. He swallowed to clear it and tried again. “I’m down here!” he shouted as everything became dark again.

For a moment, he heard and saw nothing. Then the light returned, far brighter this time.

“Benny? Are you down there?” Ashland’s voice called from above.

“Ashland! I fell. I’m injured!” he yelled back weakly, the effort causing pain.

All quieted, the light dimming but not completely. Benny closed his eyes, attempting to focus and keep the fear of the darkness away. When he opened them, it was brighter again. A rope descended from where the light was shining, running along the angled stone blocks above and dangling down to the floor. A moment later, someone began to climb down the rope. Benny could see boots braced against the angled stone blocks as they descended into the dark space. As those boots pushed from the blocks to shimmy down the rope, a face emerged from the darkness.

Brock landed on the floor and looked down at Benny with a smile. “I’m glad we found you, Benny. Good job locating a place to hide from those bacabra.” Brock turned and yelled up toward the light. “Tie the rope off and send everyone down! We found a place to hide for the night!”

CHAPTER 50

A shock of cold washed over Benny, causing his chest to contract. The momentary loss of breathe caused an irrational spike of panic before air again began to fill his lungs. A shiver shook his body, and sharp pangs of hunger raged within his stomach.

“There you go. You’re healed and are as good as new,” Ashland said as she stood upright.

Brock held out a stick of dried beef. “Here’s something to eat, Benny.”

Benny accepted it with one hand, holding the other up to shield his eyes from the bright light Ashland held. “Thanks guys.”

He bit into the meat, chewing heartily as they helped him to his feet. Turning, he watched Cam deftly drop down the rope to land on the stone floor. Cam was the last of them.

Benny turned toward Brock. “What happened up there?”

Brock shrugged. “Ashland scared them away. Apparently they don’t like light.”

Glancing at her, Benny squinted at the brightness of the light in her hand. “Where’d you get that anyway?”

“It’s a chunk of stone that I charged with the last rune we found before the book was destroyed.” Ashland replied. “It turned the rock into this bright light.”

Brock ran his hand through his hair, glancing toward the opening in the ceiling. “I think we know why people stay away from this place. I strongly expect that the pack of bacabra is responsible for the reported disappearances. Who knows how long they’ve been living here.”

Sinclair chimed in. “They might not be evil spirits, like in the stories, but we sailors know to stay away from this place.”

Tenzi nodded in agreement.

“This leads somewhere, Brock,” Parker said from across the room.

Benny turned toward Parker to find him standing beside a framed doorway at the far end of the room. It appeared to be the only way out other than the hole above.

Brock walked over to the door as the others followed. When Ashland’s light streamed through the opening, Benny could see a long corridor that faded to black beyond the glow of the light.

Brock turned toward his companions. “Since we’re stuck here for the night, I think we should explore a bit. However, it might be dangerous, so be careful. Don’t touch anything you don’t need to touch.”

Heads nodded in reply as Brock took Ashland’s free hand and led them through the doorway.

Walking a step behind Brock and Ashland, Benny had a good view of their surroundings. Glancing at the floor, he noticed insects scurrying into cracks to escape the bright light that had invaded their habitat. Benny paused as he passed an open doorway, glancing about the room within but found nothing but dusty skeletons strewn about broken furniture. As he continued down the corridor, Benny wondered about them, about who they were and how they had died.

After passing two other rooms, both empty other than broken shelves and debris, the corridor ended. Two stairwells stood before them, one rising up into the darkness while the other descended into the inky-black depths of the stone structure.

“This place is creepy,” Benny muttered.

Brock glanced back at him, nodding. “It’s like walking among graves. I can almost feel the poor souls who died here.”

“Which way, Brock?” Parker asked.

“Let’s try up first,” Brock led them up the stairs.

Upon reaching the top, they found a small room with an ornate tapestry on the wall. Fallen stone blocks beyond the doorway prevented further advancement.

Brock spun about and pointed. “Dead end. Everyone back down.”

Formerly at rear of their procession, Cam led them down to the hallway. Once there, Brock and Ashland led them down the other stairwell. The air grew noticeably cooler as they descended, a pervading dampness surrounding them. It reminded Benny of when they had been captured in the basement of the Sol Polis Citadel. He prayed that they had no similar experience here.

Brock reached the bottom of the stairs and opened a heavy wooden door that creaked in protest. Beyond the door was a long corridor with tapestries hanging upon its stone block walls. Doors lined the hallway, most closed. The open ones revealed small rooms, each with a single bed.

“It looks like servant’s quarters,” Parker commented, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

The door at the end of the corridor protested even louder than the last, creaking noisily as Brock pulled it open. He led the group through to another stairwell going upward. They found another corridor at the next floor, this one blocked by a collapsed ceiling. Turning, Brock led them up another set of stairs to the upper level. Again, they found these stairs capped by a small room with an ornate tapestry. However, nothing blocked the doorway on this side. Stepping through, Brock led Ashland and her bright light into the large room.

The moment Benny stepped inside, he knew that they were in a throne room. Though the collapsed ceiling left half of the space buried, he could see rows of wooden benches that disappeared into the darkness. Upon the raised platform at the fore of the room stood the broken relic of a large throne. A headless skeleton rested upon the throne, the ornate garments of the dead man hanging loosely on the dry and dusty bones. Other skeletons lay scattered among the benches and aisles, some covered by tattered clothing while others wore leather armor. The opposite side of the chamber was impassible, buried beneath tons of fallen stone blocks that split the room in half. Benny glanced toward the ceiling above them, seeing that it had collapsed such that the rubble in the center of the room supported the massive stone blocks above him.

Stepping into the room with his eyes on the throne, Brock spoke softly.

“Everyone be careful. The ceiling above looks shaky.”

Benny walked beside Ashland as the two followed Brock toward the throne. Stepping onto the platform, they had to duck as they neared their destination. The fallen ceiling stood just five feet above the floor, where it leaned on the partially crushed throne.

Brock looked at Benny. “Do you have any ideas?”

Knowing what Brock meant, Benny squatted to examine the old dust-covered throne. It was of wooden construction, tilted from the crushing weight of the collapsed ceiling pushing on one edge. The headless skeleton was missing a leg, no doubt buried beneath the rubble.

Benny circled behind the throne as he tried to discern anything odd. He noticed runes carved into the wooden chair back. Taking a deep breath, he blew hard at the surface, sending dust into the air. When the dust cleared, he found a carving gracing the back panel. Above the arc of a rising sun were three runes etched into the wood. The familiar symbols of Order and Chaos straddled a mysterious rune in the center.

“Have you ever seen that rune before?” Brock asked, pointing toward the symbol in the center.

Benny shook his head. “No.”

Ashland responded, “Me neither.”

Benny looked more closely at the runes, sensing something odd about the symbol for Order. After a moment, he realized it lacked the diamond shape in its center. His eyes flicked over to the Chaos rune and found it lacking the same element.

“Brock, look at this,” Benny said.

Brock edged closer as Ashland held the light so they could see.

Pointing at the runes on the chair, Benny explained. “See the rune for Order? It’s not normally solid in the middle. Where’s the diamond? The Chaos rune is missing the same element, normally in the center starburst.”

Brock squinted at the runes before looking at Benny. One eyebrow raised as he set his staff down and reached toward the throne. Placing two fingers on each rune, he pushed. There was an audible click and the rear panel slid down. Brock glanced toward Benny again, sharing a smile. A rush of pride welled-up inside of Benny and his thoughts of feeling useless now seemed a distant memory.

Brock wedged his fingers into the gap as he pulled the panel downward. It slid open to reveal a hidden compartment. Within were two black books, one to each side of the release mechanism. Brock grabbed one book as Benny reached for the other.

Still squatting, they simultaneously opened their book. Ashland leaned over them, holding her bright light closer.

“What is it? Did you find something?” Parker shouted from across the room.

Without responding, Benny examined the writing in what he held. It seemed to be a journal containing a series of dated notations. He flipped through the pages, observing more of the same throughout the book. He glanced over at Brock’s book and saw the same writing with even later dates. Brock flipped through his book, stopping when he came across a single sheet of paper tucked within the pages. He carefully unfolded the brittle paper and read it out loud.

“These journals contain proof of The Hand’s treachery and the abominable acts they have performed in their greedy pursuit of power. Thanks to a Ministry official who had the integrity to place the greater good above his own personal agenda, they have been thwarted and were rendered unsuccessful in their gambit. With the Ministry’s strength greatly diminished, my men were able to take Sol Polis and stamp out the last remnants of this plague. They’ll not find a foothold within Kalimar again as long as I breathe. Even beyond my death, the threat of this proof should help to keep them in check. This proof and the power of truth within the Emblem Throne will continue to provide Kalimar the upper hand.”

Brock paused, glancing up at Benny before continuing. “Should anyone find this, it means that I am dead. Should The Hand be behind my demise, I beg you not to let it go unpunished. Regardless, this proof is now yours to wield for the words within are more powerful than any sword. The Keeper of Truth, King Tallinor of Kalimar.”

Benny thought about the words. There were secrets within these journals. Secrets powerful enough to protect a kingdom. Secrets someone would kill for.

CHAPTER 51

Brock emerged from the hole and stepped into the tall grass surrounding it. The bright sunlight hurt his eyes after spending the night in the dark ruins below. He held his hand over his eyes to shadow them as he surveyed his surroundings.

He found himself standing upon the tall mound they had seen in the dark of night. In the sunlight, it was easy to discern the mound to be the ruins of an old citadel. A quarter mile to the west stood the wall where they had set camp the night prior. Shifting his focus to the east, he gazed over the bright blue waters of the Sol Mai Ocean. Between their location and the bay lay the bulk of Sol Limar, lying in ruins. Brock tried to imagine a bustling city, full of life. It was difficult to do given its current state.

Shifting his focus to his companions, he found them examining their surroundings, as he had done. Puri finished coiling the rope they had used to descend into the ruins, replacing it into her pack. He was thankful that she had brought it. Things would have been far more difficult otherwise.

“I think this one is still alive.”

Brock turned to find Benny bent over a prone bacabra, sprawled across the rubble of the fallen wall. As Brock walked over, he realized it was the one he had hit in the head with his staff. Stepping close to the beast, he knelt and placed a hand upon its back.

Through the thick black hair, he could feel the animal’s chest rising and falling. It was still alive. The beast that had seemed so ferocious in the night now appeared as a dog sleeping peacefully, although it was far larger than any other dog he’d ever seen. Brock thought about the stray dogs back in Kantar. He often would feed them, befriending many of the strays. Over time, he had even named many of them. Seeing the unconscious bacabra in a new light, he felt sorry for it.

Brock spoke as he stared at the prone beast. “I want to try something. I need everyone to clear away except Cam and Puri.” He looked Cam in the eyes. “You two need to stand behind the bacabra with your swords ready. Parker, please have an arrow ready as well. However, nobody is to attack unless the bacabra attacks first. Got it?”

Cam and Puri nodded and moved into place as they drew their weapons.

“Got it.” Parker responded, pulling his bow from his shoulder as the others moved away.

Are you sure about this, Brock? Ashland sent to him.

He closed his eyes. It’s something I must do.

With his hand still resting on the bacabra, he slipped into meditation. The calm, coolness of Order was soothing as its blue aura began to fill his mind. Reaching out, he stretched his awareness toward the bacabra, wondering what he might find.

Chaos raged throughout the animal, intermixing with the Order he had expected. He searched harder and found two angry red spots, far hotter than the rest. Pulling hard at the Order within the bacabra, he first attacked the two worst zones. The tiny storms of red symbols began to unravel, dissipating until they matched the jumbled mess of Chaos and Order that existed throughout the beast.

Exerting as much of his will as he could muster, Brock attacked the Chaos, using the bacabra’s force of Order to fight back. The pressure of the effort was intense, but the Chaos eventually began to change. Rather than unravel, the small red symbols began to draw together, clustering into a single ball. The effect accelerated until a calm blue field of Order surrounded a single focal point of Chaos. The pressure eased, and Brock realized that he would be able to do no more.

He opened his eyes as the bacabra shook with a chill. It opened its eyes. He yanked his hand back, stepping away with no idea of what to expect.

“Everyone remain calm,” he said softly.

The massive creature stood, shaking itself as if wet. Its head turned toward Brock, large brown eyes meeting his. The tail, as thick as Brock’s arm began to wag as it stepped toward him. The bacabra’s mouth opened, its massive tongue lashed out and gave a slobbering lick across Brock’s face. He stepped back, sputtering and wiping the saliva away with his sleeve.

The bacabra stepped closer and nuzzled against him, nearly pushing him over. He laughed, scratching it between the ears as he would any other dog. This one just happened to be five feet tall and weigh four hundred pounds.

With a smile, he looked around to find the others looking on in amazement.

.   .   .

Brock could feel her returning.

“Everyone remain calm,” he said again. It seemed to be a theme around her.

Seconds later, a massive dark shape burst from the brush ahead. Jumping playfully, the bacabra shook its head, causing the dead goat in its mouth to lurch violently from side to side. She set the goat down on the ground before Brock and stepped back with her tongue hanging out.

Brock laughed. “Good girl, Wraith.”

The oversized dog’s tail wagged vigorously, causing her entire body to shake in excitement. Brock stepped past the goat and gave Wraith a hug as he scratched behind her ears. He let go, and the huge canine turned and bolted down the road, hopping playfully from side to side as she ran. He turned to find Puri with her knife out, already dressing the latest gift from Brock’s new pet.

“That’s the third animal today, Brock,” Benny said. “With your big dog around, we apparently won’t have problems finding food”

Brock laughed. “She’s just a bit enthusiastic.”

Benny stepped close as they resumed their trek north. “Are you sure we can trust her? I know she seems friendly now, but will that change?”

Brock nodded. “You guys have made your concerns clear. I get it.” He tried to explain. “It’s hard to describe, but I’ve got a connection with her now. I can feel her in my head and I get an impression of what she feels, what she’s thinking. That’s how I know when she’s coming back even before you see her.” Brock’s hand squeezed Benny’s shoulder. “Trust me; she’s now just a loveable, oversized dog. If I sense any change in her, I’ll let you know.”

Benny nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

Ashland sidled up to Brock as she took his arm in hers. “She sure seems to adore you, which I can understand. I just hope she likes me too. I’d hate for her to be jealous of me.”

Brock laughed. “Yeah, I can see how that might be concerning. I’ll do what I can to prevent it, but I don’t think it’s in her personality. She seems too happy and playful to take you as any sort of threat.”

Ashland leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad. Although, it’s going to be hard for me to share you with her. I’m used to having you to myself.”

He kissed the top of her head, her brown curls of her hair tickling his nose. “Thanks.”

They rounded a bend and the trees thinned to reveal wide rolling fields. Not far beyond, the road split with one path continuing north and the other heading northwest. Sol Polis waited to the west, across the open fields that lay south of the city, or what remained of it. With the sun now low in the sky, Brock found himself faced with a decision. Thoughts of what they would find at the city made the decision easier. Instead of pushing onward and reaching the city at night, he would rather camp here and arrive at the city during the day.

He turned to address his friends.

“Let’s find a good spot to camp along the edge of the wood. Tomorrow, we’ll break camp at first light and head toward the city to find a ship as we discussed. Once on the water, we won’t have to worry about running into the Horde.”

Without argument, the others scattered in search of a good spot to stay the night.

Brock and Ashland remained on the road, looking over the open fields. Brock laughed when he saw a black dog hopping and twisting playfully through the long grass. Ashland hugged his arm tight as she laughed along with him, watching Wraith try to catch a large moth.

.   .   .

Leaning against Wraith, Brock relaxed on the grassy turf. He felt the slow rise and fall of her ribcage against his back. Curled up beside him, Ashland’s head lay in his lap as he paged through one of the journals they had found.

He and Benny soon determined that the entries in the journals took place four centuries earlier. However, they still hadn’t discovered the author’s identity or why the journals were so valuable.

At first, the notations seemed mundane, covering the locations and experiences gained when traveling from the Vinacci to Kalimar. Brock knew some of the cities in the books while others were unfamiliar.

Now reading in the dim light of dusk, Brock discovered that the author had journeyed to Sol Polis under a request by the Ministry with the task of developing new uses for Chaos. The writer believed Chaos to be the key to a more productive society. When details behind the author’s research began to emerge, Brock’s interest greatly increased.

“Benny, listen to this,” he looked toward his friend. “The man writing the book described himself as a Master Ecclesiast and Master Arcanist, able to wield both Order and Chaos. He notes that some individuals could use one ability or the other, but it was less common than those who could wield both. In all cases, the people who exhibited an ability with just one of the two forces showed a lesser strength than those with both abilities.”

Benny’s brow furrowed in thought. “Aren’t you and Ashland among the most powerful healers at the Academy?”

“Yes.” Brock nodded. “Varius told me that we were the two strongest Ecclesiasts the school had seen in generations.”

“And both of you can wield Chaos,” Benny said, prompting Brock.

Brock nodded as he realized what Benny was inferring. “Good point.” He thought about it, considering what they knew. “And both of us are stronger with Chaos than Tipper or Libby, who can wield Chaos but can’t wield Order.”

Benny smiled. “I wonder if the Ministry realizes that they are limiting their ability to field effective healers by weeding out Chaos users.”

Brock thought about what Benny had said. The discrimination against Chaos users was hurting the Empire more than he had thought.

“What else have you found?” Benny asked.

Brock’s gaze shifted back to the book. “Apparently, the author was trying to prove a theory. He was searching for a way to create a Chaos-induced effect that lasted a lot longer. In fact, he hoped to produce a permanent effect.”

Benny whistled. “Wow. Could you imagine it? That would be a huge advantage for anyone who had access to it.”

Brock nodded, thinking of how devastating it would be to have an army filled with soldiers permanently charged with a Power rune. Nothing could stop them.

His eyes refocused on the pages, finding the writing now impossible to read in the dying light.

“We’ll do more reading another day,” Brock said with a sigh. “It’s dark, and we all need sleep.”

Brock grabbed the loose sheet of blank paper he had torn from the second journal. Opening the folded paper, he stared hard at the image marking it. He had used a crumbling piece of debris to rub the symbol onto the paper, copying it from the etching on the Emblem Throne. Though barely discernable in the dying light, the diamond-shaped rune intrigued him. He wondered what the symbol meant. Realizing he wasn’t going to find out tonight, he folded the paper and used it to mark his progress before closing the journal.

Looking around the camp, he found everyone else already asleep. After a long day on the road, he couldn’t blame them. Twisting around, careful not to wake Ashland, Brock laid his head on Wraith’s back. With his eyes closed, his thoughts turned to what they needed to do next.

CHAPTER 52

The scene surrounding Sol Polis was grim. The stench of rotting flesh filled the air, causing numerous party members to retch miserably before continuing. Wraith didn’t like it any more than Brock did. With her ears flattened and tail down, she displayed nothing of the playfulness of the previous day.

Avoiding the city, they skirted around it as wide as they could en route to the harbor. The buildings outside the city walls were in shambles, damaged and burned. Bodies littered the streets, many torn to shreds, demonstrating the wrath that the Horde had laid upon those who lived there. The previously elegant towers of the citadel appeared a mess, with one tower collapsed in a pile of rubble while the others were scorched black. The bleak image of carrion birds circling above was the only sign of life. If anyone had survived, they surely had fled by now.

Reaching the shore, they turned north and realized they had no choice but to pass the mutilated bodies lying between them and the docks. Occasionally they would stumble across a dead banshee, but for each of those, there were scores of dead men and women. They found many of the bodies partially devoured, which made the scene even worse.

Approaching the docks, hope sparked within Brock when he spotted one lonely ship still afloat in its mooring. Stepping over and around the corpses strewn along the long wooden pier, he led them toward the ship. Sinclair’s pace quickened, passing Brock with an eager look upon his face.

When they neared the vessel, Brock noticed that the ship sported two masts. Though a fair bit smaller than Star Dancer, it was still plenty large enough for their small group.

Since the ship was floating twenty-feet out, they had to pull on the lines to reel it toward the dock. When it was about twelve feet away, Sinclair took a running jump to grab onto the rail. As he climbed over, Tenzi followed. Soon, they were laying planks across for the others to board.

As his companions crossed the planks, Brock looked back to see Wraith staring at him halfway down the dock. Her ears were back, tail down. Did she think he would leave her?

“Come on, girl!” he shouted, clapping his hand to his leg.

Her ears popped up, and she bolted down the pier toward him, the dock rumbling under her approaching weight. Brock scrambled up the planks just as the last of his friends cleared them. When he reached the ship, he spun about and watched Wraith leap from the pier. With a loud thud, she landed on the deck and knocked Sinclair down with a glancing blow. The startled captain rolled over and looked up at the hulking dog standing over him.

The man flashed a smile. “Well, then. Welcome aboard New Spirit.”

With a big lick, she drenched his face with slobber, leaving him sputtering. Everyone laughed at the captain’s plight.

CHAPTER 53

From the rigging high above the deck, Parker looked toward Tenzi. He watched her closely as Sinclair shouted orders from the quarterdeck.

“Unfurl topgallant sails! Hoist the yards!”

Copying her motion, Parker unwound the line and began pulling it downward. When the sail hit the stop, he tied the line off. A nod from Tenzi confirmed he had done it correctly. She began a quick descent down the rigging with him following close behind.

Upon reaching the deck, he looked toward the foremast to find Brock and Cameron making their descent. Those sails were also unfurled and rippled in the wind.

Sinclair turned the wheel, and the ship began to come about. The rippling grew more rapid until the sails snapped full. The ship gained speed, accelerating as it crossed the bay toward the breakers. Parker glanced back and looked upon the dead city of Sol Polis. Although he knew what to expect after the attack on the city, he still hadn’t been prepared for it. He doubted that anything could prepare him for such a massive feeling of loss. He closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer for Pinkus and Agatha. Remembering how Niles had died from the banshee blade, Parker added his name to the list. He wiped the moisture from his eyes and blinked to clear them.

The peaceful blue waters of the sea seemed the same as always, oblivious to the death and struggles of man. He envied the sea for a moment.

His gaze then landed on Tenzi. He often found himself looking at the short blonde. She intrigued him.

“So, what’s your deal with Sinclair anyway?”

She turned toward him, her blue eyes squinting in the sunlight. “My deal?”

Parker shrugged. “Well, you obviously went out of your way to help and protect him when he was hurt. I know he’s your captain, but I think your loyalty goes deeper.”

Tenzi glanced toward the quarterdeck, where Sinclair stood with his hands on the wheel.

“I guess it won’t hurt to tell you,” she said, her blue eyes shifting to meet his. “I grew up near the docks in Sol Gier. My mother died during birth, so I never knew her. I lived alone with my Father, who worked at the docks. While he wasn’t a big man, he was strong. He also had a temper, which grew worse when he drank.”

She paused and looked out over the water. “When I was twelve, he came home late one night to find that I hadn’t made him dinner. I tried to explain that he hadn’t given me money to buy food, but he wouldn’t have it. He beat me pretty bad. As I lay curled up in my own blood, I decided I was done with it and done with him. Though it wasn’t my first beating, I’d make sure it was my last.”

She glanced toward Sinclair again as she continued. “I grabbed my stuff and snuck from the house prior to first light. Since I’m marked with a Nauticus rune, I decided to head for the docks to find a ship. I picked one that looked good and shimmied up the line tied to the dock. Once onboard, I hid in an empty barrel in the cargo hold.”

“It was later that day when I was found. The sailors brought me to the captain, declaring me a stowaway.” She paused, thinking. “I knew that a captain is the king of his ship and that his own rules apply. I also knew that stowaways were often killed or worse. I told Sinclair that it was a chance I had been willing to take. I explained that I had no other place to go, no family or home to claim. He decided to wait to kill me, instead putting me to work scrubbing the deck. Days and weeks went by; ports and cities came and went. Still, he said that he would wait just a bit longer. As the months passed, my jobs changed and soon he no longer mentioned having me killed. Over the course of years, sailors came and went. Five years after my flight, I had become the most senior crewmember of Star Dancer, earning the right to be first mate and steer the ship. That was two years ago.”

Parker listened intently, feeling sympathetic to Tenzi’s situation. “So, Sinclair has become a bit of a father to you, then?”

Tenzi shrugged. “I guess so. He’s definitely treated me far better than my father ever did. He relies on me and values my skills and opinion. I guess I found a home aboard his ship.”

Parker nodded. “I get it. You’re quite skilled at sailing, so I can see how he values you.”

Tenzi smiled. “Thanks.”

Parker stepped closer. “He’s not alone. I can also see that you’re an incredible woman.”

The smile slid from her face, her eyes gazing up into Parker’s. He felt a twinge of trepidation, fearing that his advance might be unwanted. Ignoring caution, he pulled her close and bent for a kiss. The warmth and softness of her lips intertwining with his gave him a rush, causing his heart to quicken. As their lips parted, his eyes opened to look into hers. His arms were around her back, hers around his.

“You make me feel so alive,” Parker said in awe.

She smiled. “It will take a few days to reach the garrison at Hipoint. That gives us some time to get to know each other.”

A grin spread wide across Parker’s face. “I’d like that.”

.   .   .

Three marvelous days later, their destination was in view. While Parker was aware that time was critical, he found himself dreaming of sailing on endlessly. His time with Tenzi had been special, and he had relished every moment.

There had been just enough cabins on New Spirit for each of the four couples to share one and still leave one for Benny to use alone. Of course, Sinclair had claimed the captain’s quarters, taking it at night while Tenzi and Parker manned the deck.

Somehow, Wraith was able to wiggle down the hall and into the small cabin that Brock and Ashland shared. Parker expected that it was difficult to move about when the huge dog was in their quarters.

The practical side of him was aware of their food running low. They had made the most of the stores found upon the ship, having to toss less than a quarter due to spoilage. What remained was just enough for the three-day voyage.

Parker stood at the rail of the quarterdeck beside Tenzi, waiting for Sinclair’s signal to climb the mast. As they sailed up the wide bay toward Hipoint, he looked on in curiosity since it had been a more than a year when he had last sailed into an unfamiliar port.

The city was built upon a steep grade that overlooked the sea. The result was a long set of stairs running up the center, connecting a series of tiers occupied by houses and shops. A single ship currently occupied a mooring beside the long pier dividing the harbor. Unlike the other coastal cities he had seen, this one had no wall surrounding it. Thankfully, Hipoint appeared safe and healthy. There had been an unspoken fear that they might arrive and find it also destroyed by the Horde.

“It’s strange seeing a port city without a wall,” Parker noted.

Sinclair turned toward Parker. “She’s a new city. Can’t be more than a hundred years old. They didn’t build a wall because she has no enemies. At least, none who would come from the sea.” His eyes flicked to Puri, standing below with Cam, Brock, and Ashland.

Parker nodded. The Tantarri were considered the only Empire enemy these days. That is, until the Horde appeared.

As they drew closer, he was able to identify the walled palisades of the garrison atop the plateau above the city. The garrison was the reason they chose this destination. The visual realization of their goal made it seem more real, leaving him sad that their sea voyage was ending.

Sinclair turned toward them. “Get to your marks. We’ve got a ship to dock.”

Tenzi nodded and stepped away from Parker to grab ahold of the rigging.

Sinclair called out. “To your marks. Let’s get those sails drawn!”

Brock and Cam scrambled to the foremast rigging, scaling it with ease. Parker grabbed onto the rigging and glanced up at Tenzi as she raced up the mast. He released a sigh began to climb after her.

.   .   .

Parker glanced back toward the ship and found Tenzi at the bow rail, staring back as the ocean breeze teased her blonde hair. Their eyes locked one last time as he waved before turning to follow the others through town. While crossing the dock toward the stairs, he reflected on their last conversation.

“Please come with me. We belong together,” he had pleaded.

Her hand had reached up to cup his cheek. “Dear, Parker. I’m sorry, but Sinclair needs me.” She glanced toward the captain. “We have a mission of our own. For now at least, I belong on this ship.”

“But what about love?” he asked. “What about me?”

She smiled sadly. “I do think I love you. However, your friends need you. We have a war to fight; one we dare not lose.”

He leaned in to kiss her, sending every bit of sweet emotion he could muster into the kiss. It was urgent, yet tender, lingering for a time. He pulled his lips away and opened his eyes.

“What of the future?” he asked.

“If there is a future, come find me.” She shrugged. “We’ll make something of it.”

He nodded. “That’s a promise. If I live, I’ll find you. Don’t give up on me.”

Tenzi smiled. “I don’t give up so easily.”

He stepped away, the last to leave the ship. Waving goodbye to Sinclair, he crossed the planks and left her behind. He would hold the image of her at the rail in his mind. That, along with the three days they had shared on the voyage, would have to suffice until this war was over.

Breaking from his reverie, he began climbing the stairs up into the city. People ahead cried out in amazement and fear as Wraith hopped up the stairs ahead of Brock. Parker couldn’t help but smile. He expected that anyone seeing the huge dog would be startled. His eyes returned to Wraith, and he realized that he had begun to think of her as a dog, not as a bacabra.

Reaching the first tier of the city, they crossed the street past two rows of buildings and began ascending the next set of stairs. It wasn’t long before Parker’s thighs began to burn from the seemingly endless steps rising from the docks to the plateau. Pausing for a breath, he looked down to view the three tiers below. Swinging his gaze upward, he counted three more to reach the top. Resigned to the task, he continued upward.

When they reached the top, he looked down to find a crowd gathered on each tier, pointing up toward them as they discussed what they had witnessed. Parker guessed each conversation began with Wraith. Her presence made it difficult for their party to pass unnoticed.

“Parker,” Brock said. “I think it best if you and Cam approach the garrison. You both have parents with recognizable names. It’ll give you a better chance to convince them of the truth.”

Parker nodded. “Okay. We’ll see what we can do.” He looked at Cam. “Are you ready, big guy?”

Cam nodded, “Let’s do it.”

They crossed the road and angled toward the garrison gate. As they approached, the two guards outside the gate stood tall, trying to look as imposing as possible. Parker sighed inwardly, expecting the worst. He knew how these types tended to make themselves seem important, attempting to show that they were above you.

“Hello, Master Paladins.” Parker smiled as he and Cam stepped close to the gate.

“Hold there,” a big guard with clean-shaven scalp replied. His Order rune seemed lonely on the bare expanse of his forehead. “State your business.”

Parker nodded, looking serious. “We have some urgent news for your captain. News from Sol Polis.”

The man glanced at the other guard, a tall woman with short clipped dark hair. The bald guard looked at Parker.

“Where’s your message, then?”

Parker held his hands out, shrugging. “Given the urgency of the situation, there was no way for an official to craft one. Instead, my message is verbal. Therefore, I must speak with your captain.”

The man’s face clouded. “If you think I’m going to go bothering the captain because some young whelp wants to tell him a story, you’re crazy.”

Cam spoke. “Sir, do you know of Cassius DeSanus?”

The man shrugged. “Of course we know who Captain DeSanus is. Why?”

Cam thumbed at his chest. “I’m Cameron DeSanus. Cassius is my father. Like him, I’ve been training to become a Master Paladin. The urgent message we have is related to the reason I had to leave the Academy before my training was complete.”

The man looked Cam up and down, examining him. “So you say. Do you have any proof?”

Cam reached for his hilt. “I do.” He pulled the sword free.

Both guards stepped back, drawing their weapons.

“Easy,” Cam said. “I’m merely showing you the rune on this sword, which was my Father’s until he gave it to me this past summer.”

He held the blade flat before the two guards as they cautiously stepped closer for a look. After seeing the rune, they stepped back.

“How do we know you didn’t steal it?” the woman asked.

Cam’s face darkened, apparently close to losing his patience. Parker stepped in to take over.

“I also have a father who you will know. His name is Cedric Thanes, Chief Advisor to Archon Ringholdt.” Parker reached into his pack, digging out a folded piece of paper. He held it out to the bald guard.

The man read it before showing it to the woman. After receiving a nod, he handed it back to Parker.

“You two wait here. I’ll be right back.” The male guard turned and disappeared through the small service door in the palisade wall.

As Parker pocketed the writ he had been given when raised to Academy Apprentice, Cam sheathed his sword. Two minutes later, the door opened as a third Paladin stepped through.

This man had short brown hair and a well-kept short beard. His silver-plated gray leather armor marked him as a captain.

“I’m Captain Torreco. What’s this all about?”

Parker stepped closer and gave the man a short bow. “Captain. We’ve just arrived at the docks, coming from Sol Polis.” Pausing for a breath, he prepared himself for a poor response. “I have grave news. The city has fallen, completely overrun. If there were any survivors, it is but a few. I seriously doubt Archon Ringholdt is among them.”

The man’s face clouded. “What? Are you daft? Who would attack Sol Polis? We have eyes on the Tantarri and would know if they attempted to leave their lands, especially if they brought an army.”

“This might sound a bit outlandish, sir. However, it’s true.” Parker swallowed hard, glancing at Cam. “The Banished Horde has returned.”

CHAPTER 54

Brock watched the exchange while standing with the others, just down the road from the garrison. When the Paladin captain began to shout and wave his arms about, Brock decided to intervene.

With staff in hand, he jogged toward where Parker and Cam were standing. As he drew close, he could hear the captain accusing them of thinking him daft. He then shouted for them to stop wasting his time. The female guard glanced toward Brock, her eyes growing wide. In a flash, her sword was out.

“Captain! Look out!”

The captain paused his rant to look toward Brock, his eyes growing as wide as well. His weapon was out in a flash.

“Bacabra!” the captain shouted.

Brock stopped and looked back at Wraith, who was following him. He held his hand up and Wraith stopped to sit on the road, tilting her head in curiosity. He turned toward the Paladins and smiled.

“You men are mistaken,” he shouted. “This is just my dog, not some vicious bacabra.”

He glanced back and waved her forward. Excited, she ran up alongside him as he continued walking. Brock glanced at Wraith, who was matching his pace, before again addressing the Paladins.

“However, if you try to harm me, she’ll certainly not be so friendly.”

The two guards warily backed against the wall, but the captain held firm. His eyes narrowed, and he eased his sword back into its scabbard.

“I guess she doesn’t look to be vicious like a bacabra. Her eyes aren’t red, either,” the captain noted. “Still, I’ve never seen a dog that big.” The man’s eyes remained fixed on Wraith.

Brock came to a stop a stride away from the man. “I bet if I came here yesterday and told you I had a dog this big, you’d think I was lying.”

The man scratched his head, nodding. “Yeah. Probably.”

Brock smiled. “But now that you see it, you believe it?”

The man nodded again. “How could I not?”

Brock looked at Wraith, reaching up to scratch between her pointed ears that were level with his own. Her tongue was hanging out, eyes squinting as she enjoyed the attention.

Brock turned back to the man. “So, when my friends tell you that the Banished Horde is back and has decimated Sol Polis, you call them idiots who are wasting your time. You don’t believe it because you’ve never seen the Horde in your lifetime.”

The captain stared at Brock, the gears turning in his head. “I get your point.”

Parker pleaded with the man. “Please, sir. Just send someone on a horse to Sol Polis. If what I’m telling you is false, it will cost you nothing but one man for a week. However, if it’s true and you do nothing, it could cost thousands of lives.”

The captain stared hard at Parker. His eyes shifted toward Wraith and then back toward Parker.

“Very well,” the captain nodded. “I’ll send a man. If it checks out, we’ll have to act. If not, I will find you, and you’ll wish you’d never met me.”

“Fair enough.” Brock nodded. “I’ll also tell you that this isn’t our only stop. By the time you catch up to the Horde, they’ll probably have overrun most or all of the eastern provinces. As our forefathers did two hundred years ago, I plan to gather whomever I can and face them on the Tantarri plains. They will have to cross the plains at some point. Expecting them to arrive there in early spring, we’ll be there and we’ll be ready.”

The captain stared at Brock for a moment before bursting into laughter. “You had me for a moment there, boy.”

Brock glanced toward Parker and Cam, both shrugging. He addressed the Paladin Captain. “Captain...what’s your name?”

The man calmed his laughter. “Torreco. Gavin Torreco.”

“Captain Torreco. I urge to you to take this seriously until proven otherwise. I plan to amass an army who will face the Horde on the Tantarri plains when that object…” Brock pointed up at the white sphere in the sky. The three Paladins looked up to where he pointed. “Appears in the evening sky. Whether the Holy Army joins us is up to you. I’m afraid this fight is too big for any force you can muster on your own. We must band together, or we will all die.”

Brock turned and walked away. Wraith caught up to him, loping along calmly, mirroring the resolute mood he felt inside.

CHAPTER 55

Left with just enough coin to pay for supplies, they opted to restock and head west rather than stay at an inn in Hipoint. Brock wasn’t sure how an innkeeper would handle Wraith anyway. Though he was quite fond of her, she presented a challenge in numerous practical ways.

As the town and the garrison shrank into the distance behind them, Brock slowed to allow Puri to catch up. He drifted closer to her, addressing the Tantarri woman when her attention turned toward him.

“I need your help, Puri.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. You have done quite a capable job with very little of my help thus far.”

Brock smiled. “Thanks. However, I do need it now.”

She nodded. “Very well. What can I do for you?”

He glanced at Cam and then back to Puri. “Can you find the mine we saw a few weeks back?”

She looked at him, her confusion apparent. “Mine?”

He nodded. “Yes. The place with the big wall, where the men chased after us on horseback.”

Recognition lit upon her face. “Oh, that. Yes, of course I can.”

Brock nodded. “Good. Can you find another route to it? I’m looking for a way coming in from the south.”

She squinted as she considered what he proposed. “I believe so. There must be a way for they had set men to wait for us along this road, east of our position.” She nodded, seemingly convinced. “The western mouth to the valley cannot be the only way.”

Brock stopped, looking her in the eye. “I need you to figure it out. I know you can do this. It will help because that’s where we are heading next.”

Cam looked at Brock, curiosity on his face. “Why should we go back there?”

Brock smiled and he resumed walking. “I’ll tell you tonight, once we set camp. I’m sure everyone will want to know what’s next and why.”

An awareness in the depths of his mind tingled. Wraith was returning, a sense of pride coming through their connection. Brock’s eyes scanned the road ahead as he searched for her.

Seconds later, the shrubs to the inland side of the road began to shake. Wraith emerged tail-first as she backed onto the road. In spurts and fits, she pulled her prize from the brush and onto the gravel.

Sitting beside it, she waited for Brock and the others to arrive. As he drew closer, he was able to identify the bloodied animal as a wild boar. He approached Wraith, scratching behind her ears as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Good girl,” he said softly.

Wraith’s tail wagged, and her eyes narrowed in pleasure of the attention. He turned toward his companions, now gathering around the kill.

“It appears that Wraith has caught us our dinner. Let’s see if we can find a good spot to camp. Sunset is less than an hour away, so we have to stop soon anyway.”

His friends nodded and began to filter off the road in search of a campsite.

Brock turned toward Puri and Cam. “Can you two dress the boar while I search for something to use for a spit?”

Puri bent and drew her knife, not wasting any time. Brock smiled at Wraith, giving her a hug before he went in search of a good stick.

.   .   .

“If this works, it’ll be incredible,” Ashland said, leaning in close.

Brock nodded and turned the page. “Definitely.”

Unsurprisingly, Benny’s curiosity drew him over. He sat on the log beside Brock. Ashland was sitting at Brock’s other side as she read along with him.

“What did you find?” Benny asked anxiously.

Benny’s curiosity knew no bounds. Brock smiled and explained their findings.

“The author of the journal had a theory about creating a permanent effect from a Chaos charge. He termed this concept Infusion, which involved the use of Order to bind the Chaos. He believed the net result would be weaker than a normal use of Chaos, but the effect would last far longer, possibly forever.”

Benny’s eyes grew wide. “Of course. It makes total sense.” He looked at Brock, excited. “Has he documented any experiments?”

Brock shook his head. “Not yet, but I’m sure that’s coming. Hopefully, we can learn more as we continue to read his notes.”

Brock looked at Benny, seeing his eyes staring blankly. Brock could almost hear the gears turning in Benny’s head as he came to grips with this revelation. After a long moment, Benny jumped up in front of Brock.

“You’ve got to find out a bit more. I want you and Ashland to see if we can make it work.” Benny’s hands waved about in excitement. “This is big, Brock. Really big!”

Brock laughed. “Okay. Okay.” He waved Benny off. “However, we’ve run out of light, so we’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

The agony of waiting was clear on Benny’s face. Stepping over Wraith, he circled the fire in search of a spot to lay for the night. Brock smiled as he watched his friend, finding Benny’s predictable nature comforting.

His gaze scanned past the others. Tipper and Libby were lying together on a blanket, talking quietly. Cam and Puri shared a seat on a log as they stared into the fire. Parker was sitting near Benny, staring into the flames. Brock expected he was thinking of Tenzi and understood how Parker felt. He’d desperately miss Ashland if they were separated. The very thought of it made his heart ache. He put his arm around her as he kissed her forehead. Closing his eyes, he thought about the task before them.

What they were about to try was risky, perhaps more crazy than attacking the banshee hideout. It had cost them dearly, with some of his companions paying with their lives, but his plan had succeeded despite seemingly impossible odds. This time, there were six fewer people among his small group. Did that make the odds even more impossible? What might it cost them this time?

CHAPTER 56

Brock followed Puri’s finger, intensely searching where she was pointing. Careful to keep his head low, he nodded to let her know he saw the bowman. There were four of them along the top of the wall, each pacing a section. Beyond the wall stood the guard barracks, now dark in the long shadow of the tall wall. Men sporadically entered and exited that building while the other buildings remained static. A stable and a small shed lingered just beyond the barracks, totaling eight buildings within the compound.

A few minutes later, people emerged from the tunnel below the far cliff. Aligned in single file, they marched toward the stone buildings tucked further back in the holding. Armed guards walked beside the prisoners, herding them toward their destination. This process continued for a while, surprising Brock with how many people they held captive. The sun dipped below the western horizon as the last prisoners completed the trek from tunnel to the buildings. As darkness fell over the compound, all became quiet.

Brock tapped Puri on the shoulder, silently motioning for them to retreat. She nodded and he gave Benny’s cloak a tug as he turned to follow Puri. They crouched low as they snaked through the boulders back toward the trail. Once beyond view, they broke into a jog.

After running a quarter mile, they crested the rise, and their camp came into view. Brock smiled when he saw Wraith stand, her tail wagging in anticipation. It had taken him a few attempts to get her to stay and let him go alone. Even then, he could hear her whining behind him as he ran up the trail to get a look at the mine that doubled as a prison. Nearly an hour had passed since then, most of daylight expiring during that time.

“I’ve seen what I needed to see,” he announced as he drew close. “The plan remains the same. As I expected, the building nearest to the wall is the guard barracks. Just beyond is the stable. The four buildings in the back house the prisoners. I estimate about thirty guards within the compound. However, if things go as planned, we’ll only have to face a few of them.”

Parker’s gaze flicked toward the others, then back to Brock. “Are you sure we need to do this, Brock? It seems pretty dangerous.”

Brock nodded, his position was firm. “Yes. Everything we’ve seen and done thus far has aligned with the Tantarri prophecy. There’s one piece left, and this is it.” His eyes scanned those before him. “We found the journals in the Emblem Throne. We healed the wound by closing the doorway the Horde was using to reach Issalia. The last task from the prophecy remaining is for us to free the truth. What’s behind that wall is a truth that the Ministry has been hiding, holding captive.” He felt resolute, driven to do something. “I suspect that those poor people are imprisoned simply because they are Unchosen, forced to work in that mine for the remainder of their lives. I can’t leave them to such a miserable fate. Regardless of what anyone believes, being Unchosen is not a crime.”

Ashland stepped beside Brock, gripping his hand as she spoke. “I agree with Brock. Regardless of what you believe about the prophecy, we should help these people. We have the means and surprise on our side.”

“Okay.” Parker nodded. “I hope your plan works. There are only eight of us while they have at least two dozen armed guards.”

Brock smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong. There are nine of us if you count Wraith. We also have Chaos on our side.”

.   .   .

“Okay, Tip. It’s up to you now.” Brock squeezed his friend’s thin shoulder. “Don’t get caught.”

In the dark of night, he could barely see Tipper’s nod. “I’ve got this, Brock.”

As Tipper snuck off into the night, Brock turned toward the others.

“I assume you all remember your part in the plan. Cam, Puri, and Parker, I need you to get past the wall as fast as possible. Just be sure not to look at the light.”

Quiet responses told Brock that they knew what to do.

“Parker, how many arrows do you have left?” he asked.

“Seven.”

Brock knew Parker was running low on arrows, but he had hoped for more. “It will have to do. Try to make each shot count, and be sure to take out anyone with a bow. We can’t have arrows raining on us while we are defending ourselves against swords.”

“Don’t worry, Brock.” Parker replied. “I know what to do.”

Brock turned toward Libby. “Okay Libby.” He lifted his shirt, exposing his stomach. “Use your fear and charge me up.”

He took a series of calming breaths as he waited for Libby to tap into Chaos. When her eyes began to glow red, he looked down at the black rune drawn on his pale skin, barely able to be seen in the darkness. The rune glowed bright red, pulsing before it began to dim. His stomach tickled and felt queasy. The weight of his body pressing downward lessened to a fraction of what was normal, but he didn’t become overly floaty like when Ashland had used the same rune on him. He had chosen Libby make him light, expecting a lesser effect with her weaker ability. Thankfully, it worked. Although he now felt far lighter than usual, he didn’t have to worry about floating off into the sky.

“Thanks, Libby.” He set his hand on her shoulder. “Now you and Benny need to stay here with Tipper when he returns. If all goes as planned, you three can bring our packs up when the place is secure.”

Brock turned and stared in the direction where Tipper had vanished into the night. He took a long, deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. Everything hinged on Tipper making it to the wall and back without notice. His eyes scanned the prison wall, spotting a bowman stationed near each of the four glowlamps lighting the top of the structure. Getting past those men and the wall was just the beginning of their gambit. He prayed that the plan he and Benny had hatched would work. It had to work.

CHAPTER 57

Cameron waited beside Puri, focusing on the task before him. He found that her strength and conviction made him feel more confident.

Someone approached in the darkness, marked by the soft crunching of boots on the sand. As Tipper emerged from the night, Brock addressed him.

“How did it go, Tip?”

The white of Tipper’s toothy grin glowed in the starlight. “It’s all ready. Hit it halfway between the gate and this end.”

In the darkness, Cam could barely discern Brock nodding in response. “Good job, Tip. Now, hang here with Benny and Libby. Ashland will be back soon.”

Brock turned toward Cam, gripping his shoulder. “Okay, Cam. You’re up next. Make the shot count because you’ll get just one chance at it.”

Cam nodded and turned toward Puri. “Are you ready?”

Puri nodded, drawing her sword. “Of course. I am Tantarri. I am always ready.”

Cam hefted the sling Benny had made for him and began jogging toward the wall. He could hear the crunching of Parker’s boots to one side with Puri’s softer footsteps sounding on the other. He expected the men on the wall would hear them coming. As long as they were beyond the light of the glowlamps, it wouldn’t matter.

As Cam neared the wall, he began twirling the sling. After practicing with it for an hour, he was confident he could hit the massive target. As it spun faster, the sling began to make a whirling noise.

“Something is out there!” A man shouted from atop the wall.

The two men on the south end of the wall stood alert, bows drawn as they stared into the night. Cam hoped to be close enough to release the sling before they spotted him. As the wall drew near, he gauged the distance. Just a few more steps.

“Over there!” A man on the wall shouted, pointing toward him.

Cam gave one final swing, released his grip on the sling, and launched the heavy rock toward the wall. The moment he released it, Cam dove to the side. As he rolled in the sand, an arrow bounced off the dirt where he had been standing.

A crack sounded when the rock struck the wall. The structure shook, a shiver running along its spine before it collapsed. The south half of the wall imploded, blasting dust high into the air. Without hesitation, Cam and Puri ran into the billowing cloud of dust.

.   .   .

Parker slowed when he saw Cam begin to twirl the sling. Drawing an arrow from his quiver, he nocked it on the bow and began seeking a target. A man atop the wall shouted when he spotted Cam. As Parker ran forward to get close enough to take a shot, the man lifted his bow and pointed it toward Cam. Parker stopped, took aim, and fired. The man on the wall fired his arrow, staggering backward a moment later with an arrow through his chest. A thunderous crack sounded, followed by the rumble of the wall collapsing beneath the man.

Still running, Parker angled toward the gate and the part of the wall that was still standing. The two men still atop the wall ran toward the collapsed section. Lifting his bow to take aim, Parker shot at the closer man. The arrow took him in the throat, sending him tumbling off the backside of the wall. The other man slowed when he saw it happen, his eyes falling on Parker as he lifted a bow.

Parker drew another arrow and nocked his bow, firing at the man as quickly as possible. The man fired back, their arrows passing each other as they sped toward their targets. Parker’s arrow hit the man in the stomach, causing him to double over, fall to his knees, and tumble from the wall. Parker’s left shoulder involuntarily jerked backward, twisting his body and forcing him to stagger backward a step. He glanced down at his chest and saw an arrow fletching just inches from his face. It felt strange, even numb, as if he were dreaming. The world tilted and his head felt foggy. Parker blinked, trying to comprehend what was happening. He fell to his knees as everything went white.

.   .   .

Ashland focused on Cameron and Puri as she ran, waiting for Cam to launch the rock at the wall. When he began twirling the sling, she stopped and looked at the rock in her hand. She closed her eyes and used her fear to seize Chaos, noticing that it was easier each time she did it. A crack sounded, followed by a thunderous rumble that shook the canyon and informed Ashland that the wall was collapsing. Drawing in Chaos until she felt she might burst, she opened her eyes and poured the stored energy into the rune scratched into the stone. A familiar wave of exhaustion washed over her as the rune began to glow bright red. She averted her eyes just as an impossibly bright light burst from the rock.

Holding the bright light above her shoulder, Ashland ran toward the cloud of dust swirling above the collapsed wall. As she neared it, she wound her arm back and tossed the rock as hard as she could. Like a shooting star, the blinding light sailed through the dust cloud to land beyond the rubble.

Ashland spun about to return to where the others waited. Moving slowly, she blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. A shape took form in the open dirt field outside of the wall. Changing her direction to head toward it, she soon realized that it was a person lying on their side, their back facing her. She slowed to a stop and used her foot to roll the person over, ready in case they tried to attack. A gasp of shock slipped out when she recognized Parker with an arrow sticking from his chest.

.   .   .

Brock allowed Cam, Puri, and Parker a big lead. As Ashland ran to follow them, he stepped next to Wraith and scratched the huge dog behind the ears.

“This is it, girl. You and me.”

He hopped onto her back, landing lightly as he straddled her. With his reduced weight, he wondered how much she could feel him. He tucked his staff under one arm and wrapped the other around her waist-thick neck. Adrenaline was surging through his veins, and his heart pounded as if it might burst from his chest. He took one last breath and shouted.

“Okay. Run!”

Wraith bolted after the others. Running nearly as fast as a horse, the oversized dog quickly closed the distance. Brock watched Cam launch the sling and the wall collapse into a pile of dust and debris. He flew past Ashland as Cam and Puri ran into the dust cloud. A moment later, he and Wraith followed them into the swirling airborne debris.

Up and over the rubble, Wraith emerged from the dust into the prison compound. Brock pulled to one side, turning her toward the guard barracks. The night lit up when Ashland’s light bloomed, making it easy to see his target. As Wraith neared the building, Brock brought his feet up onto her back and pushed off. With a strange sense of lightness, he sailed impossibly far, his momentum carrying him over fifty feet to land on the roof of the barracks.

He scrambled to slow himself, dragging his staff against the roof tiles to create resistance. Stopping at the peak, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a chunk of coal, and began tracing a rune on the apex of the roof. Shouting came from inside as the guards raised the alarm. Brock had expected that the rumble of the wall falling would wake them and leave little time to act.

When the Heavy rune was complete, he closed his eyes and seized onto the Chaos around him. After drawing it in, he opened his eyes and focused on the rune. It began to glow with a crimson light, pulsing before dimming. The front barracks door opened as a loud crack echoed through the canyon. Before the fourth man could emerge from the building, the roof gave.

Brock jumped from the plummeting roof as the center beam of the peak drove itself toward the ground, suddenly many times its usual weight. He launched himself out, beyond the three men who had just cleared the building, flipping as he sailed high above their heads. Before Brock even landed, he could hear screams coming from the ruined barracks. The three men who had escaped spun to face the building as dust and debris blasted from the open door. With their backs to him, Brock spun his staff to strike the nearest man hard against the head. Not having enough mass to remain stable, the recoil of the strike caused Brock to spin and stumble.

As the man crumpled to the ground, the other two turned to face Brock.

.   .   .

Squinting to keep the dust from his eyes, Cam slowed as he navigated his way through the airborne debris. When he heard the one of the bowmen coughing, he drew his sword and angled toward the sound. The dust cloud suddenly sprang to light, revealing the silhouette of a man trying to regain his feet. Cam scaled the pile of crushed rock with leaping strides and swung hard, his blade whirling as it lopped off the man’s head. Not slowing, Cam and Puri scrambled down the pile of the rubble and into the compound.

Cam stepped out of the dust cloud and the compound sprang to daylight when Ashland’s bright stone landed just a few strides away. Puri stood beside him, searching the lit compound yard. Cam spotted Wraith ahead as he broke into a run toward the barracks.

When he neared the building, Cam saw men running out the back door. He ran toward them with his sword ready. As the fifth man emerged, a loud crack sounded and the roof collapsed, sending a blast of dust and debris spraying out the open doorway. Distracted by the imploding roof, the men turned toward the barracks. Cam took the opening to strike, slicing into the backside of the nearest man.

The other four turned toward Cam, holding their hands up to block the light. He swung low, taking one in the leg. As the man fell, another sliced at Cam. Dodging it, Cam spun to see Puri lunge out and slice the man’s sword arm off at the elbow. She slashed and opened another man’s stomach from hip to hip. Cam heard Puri cry out as her opponent fell to his knees, trying to push his entrails back in. The fifth man yanked his sword from Puri’s stomach and turned to face Cam. A rush of anger gripped Cam. He swung hard at the man; his sword exploding into the man’s mid-section, nearly slicing him in half. Still filled with anger, Cam took the head off the man and spun about to stab the hamstrung man through the chest.

He turned toward Puri to find her on her knees, holding her stomach. Blood covered her hand and seeped onto the ground. Her tanned skin had turned pale.

Her eyes met his, locking gazes for a moment. “I love you,” she said as she collapsed to the ground.

.   .   .

Brock kept his back to the light as he faced the two men. They advanced toward him and he backed a step. A black blur struck the man to his right, slamming him to the ground. The other man glanced to the side and Brock reacted, crouching and launching himself high into the air. Swinging his arms downward, he rotated, and his staff connected with the swordsman’s skull as he flew over him. Completing his rotation, Brock landed softly on his feet. He turned to find the man he had hit lying face-down in the dirt. A glance toward the other man revealed Wraith standing over him with his throat torn open. Looking around the yard, there was no other movement. All was quiet.

He stepped closer to Wraith, scratching behind her ears.

“Good girl.”

“Brock!” Cam came running from around the ruined barracks. “Come quick. It’s Puri!”

CHAPTER 58

Brock stared at the ruined barracks. No portion of the outer walls remained intact and only small sections stood higher than Brock’s head. The entire roof had fallen inside of those walls, the tiles of the roof shattered into small pieces. He could still hear occasional moans from survivors, but he had no idea how to get them out. Part of him wished they hadn’t had to kill these men, but it was a small part. A far larger part of him hated them for what they had done to the poor, innocent people that they had held captive.

He turned to find Puri and Cam carrying an unconscious guard over to the ruined barracks. They sat him upright beside the other survivor, his bound wrists behind his back as he leaned against the broken wall. Cam stepped back, putting an arm around Puri. Brock smiled as he watched his friend look at her, seeing the adoration in Cam’s eyes. Brock thanked Issal that he had healed her before she had lost too much blood. It had been close.

Shadows crossing the light drew his attention. Wraith was hopping about, anxious as she led his companions into the compound. It had taken a bit of coaxing to get her to go find Ashland, but he was happy to see that the effort had been worth it.

As his friends approached, Brock noticed blood on Parker’s shirt, skin showing through the hole within the crimson streak.

“Are you okay, Parker?” Brock asked.

“Yeah. I thought I was dead, but Ashland saved me.” Parker smiled. “I’m hungry enough to eat like Cam now though.”

Brock smiled at the reference as he turned to find Benny, Tipper, and Libby approaching with everyone’s packs.

“Tipper, Benny,” Brock called out. “Can one of you dig some food out for Parker?”

“Puri needs some food too,” Cam announced.

As Benny dug through his pack for some food, Brock pointed toward the ruined barracks.

“You were right, Benny,” he said. “Increasing the weight of the beam at the peak of the roof brought the whole thing down.”

Benny nodded, handing some dried meat to Parker and Puri. “I can tell. You sure don’t mess around, Brock.” He shook his head in wonder while staring at the ruined barracks. “The building is just a pile of rubble now.”

Brock turned his attention back to their prisoners. “Ashland, can you please heal these two men? I’d do it, but I’m a bit exhausted right now.” The fight with the guards, followed by healing Puri had taken its toll on him.

She nodded. “Sure, Brock.”

Kneeling beside the first man, she put her hand on him and closed her eyes. A moment later, the man shook and was gasping for air. However, he did not wake. When she healed the other man, his eyes opened wide, and he gasped for air.

Brock smiled. He wanted some answers.

“I’m so happy you’re awake,” Brock casually said to the man. “What’s your name?”

The man glanced around, fear already showing in his eyes. “Um…Terrance.”

Brock stepped closer to the man. “You’re lucky, Terrance. I’m giving you the opportunity to live, and I won’t even subject you to torture. I just need you to answer a few questions.”

Brock crouched, looking the man in the eyes. “However, my big friend here and this Tantarri woman both know a thing or two about inflicting pain.” He gestured toward Cam and Puri, hoping they would do their best to look menacing. “If you don’t cooperate, I’m afraid we’ll have to see what they can dream up.”

The man’s eyes looked haunted as they flicked from Cam, to Puri, then back to Brock. “What do you want to know?”

Brock smiled. “Good choice.” He stood upright, sweeping an arm wide. “What is this place? Who runs it?”

“This is a mine,” The man replied. “The Hand set it up. I work for them because they pay well. There’s a lot of gold to go around.”

Brock squinted. “They mine gold here?”

“Yes. There are gold deposits. They mine it and send it off to mint it into coins.” He paused, looking around. “I’m starving. Can I have something to eat?”

“I’ll get you some food after you’ve answered my questions,” Brock responded, glancing toward his friends then back to the man. “You mentioned The Hand. Who are they?”

The man shrugged. “I can only tell you what I know.” He glanced toward the unconscious man beside him. “He works for them. His name is Tom Gambo. Another man, a Master Eldarro, he works for them, too. He was here with some woman from the Ministry a number of weeks ago. She departed soon after, but Eldarro stayed until he and a number of the guards left to pursue someone.” He paused, staring at Brock for a moment before continuing. “The Hand has a network of people working throughout the Empire. They send us new prisoners from time-to-time to replace the ones who die.”

Brock thought of what the man said. The Hand. The name reminded him of the mark he had seen on Samson, Varius, and Eldarro. He stepped close to the unconscious man, tipping his head forward. In the light coming from Ashland’s charged stone, he could see the same mark at the bottom of the man’s hairline. He stepped back, leaving the man’s head drooping at an odd angle.

The guard was telling the truth, a truth that was now becoming clear to Brock.

“Do you know why the Hand is doing this? What’s their agenda?”

Terrance shrugged. “Gold I guess. Most of the prisoners are Unchosen. I always assumed they use them because nobody will miss them when they’re gone.” He paused, his brow furrowed. “Oddly, some are marked with the rune of Issal. I asked about that once, but they told me to shut up or leave without my gold. I shut up.”

Brock’s eyes widened. “There are prisoners marked with runes? Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” The man nodded. “We get one or two a year.”

Brock thought on this news, deciding that he needed to see about the prisoners.

He stood upright. “We need to open those buildings back there.” He pointed to where the prisoners slept. “Where are the keys?”

The man glanced toward Gambo. “He should have them. If not, they’re buried in the barracks.”

Brock glanced toward the ruined barracks behind the man before looking down at Gambo. He bent over and searched the pockets of the unconscious man. He pulled a set of keys from an inside coat pocket as the man began to stir.

When Brock stood, Gambo raised his head, blinking in the light. His eyes drifted up until he was looking Brock in the face. The man’s eyes grew wide.

“That symbol!” Gambo exclaimed. “Why are you marked with that symbol? It’s evil!”

Brock smiled at the man. “Can’t you tell? Look around you.” Brock said, with his arms spread wide. “Surely, you can see for yourself. Your worst fears are coming true.” He crouched down and leaned close, looking into the man’s eyes as he held his open hand out. “You might be a member of The Hand,” Brock squeezed his hand into a fist, “but I am the fist, the fist of Chaos. I’m going to crush your plans. The Hand will pay for what they’ve done here.”

CHAPTER 59

Rubbing at his weary eyes, Brock tried to shake the sleepiness he felt. After a draining and emotional night, two hours of sleep was not enough.

He motioned for Wraith to sit, and he scrambled atop the boulder near the mouth of the mine tunnel. Turning to put his back to the cliff wall, he faced the crowd assembling in the shade before him. Beyond the congregation, the morning sun brightly lit the western part of the compound and remains of the wall.

He patiently waited for the men and women assembled to settle as they finished their meal. Upon discovering that one of the buildings was a mess hall, they soon located the prisoners who were the camp cooks and set them to making an overly large breakfast. Many of the prisoners even went back for seconds, eager to eat more than their typical allotment. Looks of amazement still reflected from the eyes meeting his. Many would absently rub at their raw ankles, now free of shackles for the first time in months or years.

As he waited, his eyes drifted to a girl his age sitting in the front row. Salina smiled at him, tears filling her dark eyes again. He still couldn’t believe she was here; she couldn’t believe that she was free from her bonds. When Salina disappeared from the Academy the year prior, he had assumed she had quit and gone home, since that was what they were told by Academy leaders. Salina explained that she had been kidnapped at the beginning of winter break. Brock thought of the carriage that had almost run over him and Ashland while in Fallbrandt. The girl had likely been inside the carriage, on her way to this godforsaken mine.

When the cooks stepped from the mess hall, Brock decided it was time to make his move.

He cleared his throat, preparing to speak. Benny had explained that his voice would carry from this spot, the sound guided by the alcove of rock walls behind him. Speaking with force, but not quite yelling, he tested it out.

“Can everyone hear me?” Brock’s eyes searched the crowd. “Someone raise your hand in the back if you can hear me.”

When three hands along the rear of the assembly popped up, he nodded in satisfaction. In a long, drawn-out breath, he released the air from his lungs a breath as he tried to calm his nerves. Having an audience of a hundred people made him feel a bit shaky, unused to addressing such a large group. His stomach churned in the anxiety of the moment.

“Good morning everyone.” He began. After all, it was a good morning. “I am very sorry for what you’ve had to endure here. As you may have figured out, you are now free. Your captors have been disposed of, and there is nothing stopping you from going off to live your own lives.”

Cheers rang out from the throng, tears flowing again as they hugged each other. Brock remained patient, letting them have this moment before he continued. After a minute, he took a breath and resumed.

“However, I also have bad news to deliver.” He wished otherwise, but the truth was all he had. “A horrible war is coming. A dark force of incredible strength has come to Issalia and has already swept across Kalimar. I know for a fact that this force has crushed Sol Polis, the largest city in the Empire, in mere hours.”

He paused, trying to pace the message. “I expect that you all have heard of an ancient enemy known as the Banished Horde. It may seem like the stuff of legends and fairy tales, but they are real and they have returned. I’ve seen what they can do. It is the stuff of nightmares, not legends. The death and destruction they leave in their wake is horrifying.”

He scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on Ashland. She smiled and nodded at him. With a rush of confidence filling him, he continued.

“This unstoppable force will continue across the continent in their quest to kill every man, woman, and child. It’s just a matter of time before everyone is dead and every city is destroyed.”

He paused again, before delivering the rest. “So, enjoy your freedom for the moment. Your life is soon going to come to a bitter end. I’m sorry.”

He stopped his speech, letting the gravity of it to sink in. For a long moment, shock held them hostage.

Salina stood and shouted. “Why even free us if this is our fate? Can nothing be done? Won’t the Holy Army stop them?”

Brock smiled, mentally thanking the girl for her spirit. He had counted on someone to do it.

“From what I’ve seen, the Holy Army stands no chance. They are outnumbered and out powered.” His intense eyes reflected the serious nature of his statement as his gaze swept across the crowd. “You see, The Horde is made of banshees.”

Everyone had heard of banshees, likely thinking them pure tales of fancy.

“Yes, I said banshees.” He nodded. “They are real. We have seen them and have even fought some. We lost some good people in that fight.” He thought of Lars, missing his friend. “At ten feet tall, each has the strength of many men. They use fear as a weapon, along with long sharp talons that can tear your face off with a swipe. There could be thousands of them.”

Brock could see the previous hope he had given to them fading fast. He hated to do it like this, but he needed them and could not afford to lose any more time.

“However, there is one thing that could turn the tables in our favor. There is one thing that might stop this dark army and save humanity from extinction.”

He paused, waiting for it. Again, Salina was the one to speak out.

“What is it? What can we do?” she shouted.

This was it. This was his moment. Brock raised his arms, holding them wide.

“You can join me and form the most powerful army ever known.”

The hopelessness reflected in those standing before him transformed to looks of confusion. Salina shouted again.

“What are you talking about? Look at us; we’re not fighters. Some of these people can barely walk.”

“True.” Brock nodded. “However, each of you can be worth a hundred fighters. This is because most of you, like me, have the ability to wield magic. The magic of Chaos.”

Confused looks shifted among the crowd. Needing to impress them, Brock decided that a demonstration might be what he needed.

“Watch this.” He jumped down from the boulder.

Brock shooed Wraith toward Ashland, causing everyone to back away in fear of the huge dog as she walked past. He had counted on that reaction, trying to create some space. He pulled a chunk of coal from his coat pocket and traced a large rune on the face of the rock. Closing his eyes, he seized on Chaos and drew it in. He charged the rune, turning to run as soon as it began to glow.

From the look in their eyes, he knew that they were witnessing the rune glowing red in the shade of the cliff. A loud crack sounded as shards of rock sprayed in all directions, falling just short of the front row of spectators. The boulder began to rise until it stood on four stone legs. Scraping and grinding sounds echoed throughout the complex as the boulder rumbled toward him. Before everyone ran in fear, Brock approached the rock, placing a hand on it.

“See what the power of Chaos can do?” He stepped beside the rock, patting it as it stopped beside him. “Using this magic, I brought this rock to life. It is now my pet, willing to attack anyone I set it upon or protect me from anyone willing to do harm. This is but one example among many things Chaos can do. This is what you can learn if you let me teach you.”

Brock scrambled up the creature’s leg, climbing onto its rocky back. “I know quite well that this world has treated Unchosen poorly. I was one of you, born Unchosen.” His gaze swept across the crowd, finding their full attention in his direction. “I have discovered that you all were subjected to living your lives as Unchosen because the power of Chaos is within you. Some people know the truth and they’ve been trying to hide it. They fear this magic, afraid of what Chaos can do. Because you have this inherent ability, they established laws designed to keep you down in fear that you might discover this power within. A group known as The Hand has gone even further, locking you away in this prison to control you because of their fear.”

He searched the faces before him, seeking a spark. He needed to make them angry enough to fight. “I say, damn them all. Sure, we could seek revenge and use Chaos as a weapon against the men and women who have chosen to deceive us and cage us. I ask you: Is that what Issal would have you do? Is it right to abuse this power by harming others for such selfish reasons? Wouldn’t that just prove your hateful captors correct, confirming their motives?”

Brock paused again to allow them consider the dilemma. Now to provide them direction.

“Another option is for you to join me and use this power to stop this demonic army. You can help me save the innocent men, women, and children who will surely die if we do nothing. We can prove our value to the people of the Empire by saving them. We are their hope and are the only ones who can do it. Perhaps, we can then live the full lives that they have previously denied us. Who is with me?”

The canyon was quiet for a long moment. Brock waited nervously, hearing only the soft sound of the wind whistling in the mine tunnels behind him. With a look of determination on her face, Salina ran toward Brock and climbed onto the living boulder to stand beside him. She turned toward the throng and shouted.

“Let’s do this! If what Brock says is true, we can be something, something special!” Her fierce brown eyes swept across the audience standing before her in still silence. She thrusted her fist in the air and shouted, “Let the Unchosen be the saviors to mankind!”

A deafening roar rose up, echoing off the canyon walls. The newly freed prisoners jumped and shouted, pumping their fists high. Every single one of them.

Brock had them, and he hated himself for it.

CHAPTER 60

The hinge squeaked as the door opened. Brock didn’t have to look up to know it was Ashland. He sensed her approach, similar to how he sensed Wraith’s presence on the floor near the bed. Choosing not to respond, his face remained buried in his hands. A warm hand rested on his arm, but he showed no reaction.

“What’s wrong, Brock?’ Ashland asked. “It worked, just as you planned. I thought you’d be happy.”

Removing his hands from his face, he sighed before responding.

“I manipulated those poor people. They don’t understand what will come, what they will face, but they bought into it.”

She looked him in the eye. “You told them the truth and nothing else. Your method may have been a bit dramatic, but that’s understandable. We don’t have time for them to debate the issue. Our only chance, their only chance, is to commit immediately and begin preparing for the Horde.”

Though Brock knew that she was right and he felt that he had no choice but to do as he did, it didn’t make him feel better.

“How many will die because of me?” he asked softly.

Sympathy reflected in Ashland’s eyes as she cupped his cheek. “Oh, Brock. I realize that this is hard. Yes, many will die in what is to come, but you can’t look at it that way. Would they have lived if you hadn’t freed them from this prison? If you did nothing, these people and thousands of other innocents would die at the hands of the Horde. This way, they at least have a chance.”

She leaned in, her lips meeting his. He closed his eyes, focusing on the warm rush of emotion in the kiss. As their lips parted, he opened his eyes to look into hers.

“Remember, you did give them an option,” she said, “You laid the truth before them and they chose to join you and fight back. It was their choice to make. Now that they’ve decided to follow you, your job is to prepare them so they have a chance. Do your best and we’ll see what fate decides.”

Brock stared into her wonderfully blue eyes, marveling at his luck in finding such an incredible woman.

A knock sounded, causing Wraith’s head to pop up and look at the door.

“Come in,” Brock said.

The door opened and Benny and Parker peeked into the storage closet that Brock and Ashland had claimed as their private room.

Benny stepped inside, holding the door for Parker as he spoke. “We finished taking the inventory of food stores in the cellar.”

Brock nodded. “Good. What did you find?”

Parker responded, “The cooks believe we have enough food to feed everyone for five or six days. With the guards gone, there are about twenty fewer mouths to feed, so that helps a bit, too.”

Benny jumped in, his shoulders rocking. “Apparently, the mine gets food delivered a few times each month. The next wagon is due the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay. We need that delivery to show up so we can remain here for a bit,” Brock said, working it out in his head.

Parker smiled. “That’s not all. We found something else.”

Brock raised his eyebrows in question. “Well, what is it?”

Parker glanced at Benny, who was nodding. “There are casks of ale. Four of them. Apparently, it was for the guards.”

Finding the ale was a bit of a surprise. Considering what was coming, they could use some ale and a little diversion. Brock forced a smile, showing what he hoped was enthusiasm.

“First, let’s work on getting things cleaned up around here today, and then we’ll have some fun.” Brock pointed toward the door. “Tell them we’ll break the ale out at dinner. Tonight, we celebrate our freedom.”

Everyone smiled, seemingly happy to have cause for celebration. Brock tried to focus on the moment, focus on today, fearing what tomorrow might bring.

A Note from the Author

Thank you for reading this book and joining Brock and his companions on their quest. If you enjoyed the book, please help to spread the word by:

-Posting reviews on sites such as Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Goodreads

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-Telling a friend who might enjoy the book

-Watch for the third book in the series, An Empire in Runes, coming in Spring 2017

Regards,

Jeffrey L Kohanek

For information about The Runes of Issalia series, the author, and upcoming events, visit:

www.JeffreyLKohanek.com

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