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  The toughs staggered, suddenly weakened as their vitality was drained. Thadeus was close enough to throw a punch, which although lacking in power, still had enough weight behind it to rock Malek back when it struck him in the chin. Overbalanced and weakened, Thadeus fell to his knees.

  More angered than hurt by the blow, Malek unleashed a blast of force. Thadeus was lifted off his feet and flung like a rag doll into a number of barrels stacked against the inn. Earl slammed hard into the wall, his head connecting with a loud crack.

  Unfortunately, Malek lacked control over his power. Barrels overturned and scattered wildly, one of them bursting apart, scattering corn cobs all over the ground. The rear door of the inn slammed shut, cracking its frame with the force of the blow. And to Malek’s horror, Ilyena was knocked prone, where she lay unmoving.

  Thadeus began screaming in pain. He held his left arm, which was twisted at an awkward angle, clearly broken. Earl seemed to be out cold, slumped beside the stoop of the door.

  Malek was focused on Ilyena. Horror dawned in him at what he had done. He abruptly unleashed the remaining power, letting it flow gently back into the earth as Magellan had instructed. He knelt over the girl, shaking her gently. She was cold to the touch, her skin as pale as a corpse, with dark rings surrounding her closed eyes.

  “Oh, gods… I’ve killed her. No… no.” Malek slumped to the dirt and stared in horror at the girl he’d fallen for.

  “What in the Abyss happened out here?” a voice bellowed.

  Malek looked up to see Maisy, the innkeeper’s wife, standing in the doorway, hands on hips, and scowling at the mess. The stout cook was intimidating when angry, but Malek barely noticed.

  “Ilyena, she…” He couldn’t finish. Tears threatened to overwhelm him.

  Maisy bustled over, barely sparing a glare for the two fallen bullies. Her face softened as she knelt over Ilyena. She patted the girl on the cheeks, and after a few gentle slaps, Ilyena’s eyes opened, and she caught her breath with a gasp.

  “Shhh… Just rest for a moment,” Maisy said.

  Ilyena’s eyes traveled from Maisy to Malek. The look of fear in them was like a punch to his gut.

  “I’m sorry, Ilyena, I… I couldn’t stand to see them hurting you,” he stammered.

  Earl had regained consciousness and gotten unsteadily to his feet. He helped Thadeus, and the two of them ran off around the corner of the building, casting looks of hatred and fear in Malek’s direction.

  “You made all this mess with your magic, boy?” Maisy looked around again, and her face hardened with anger. “You could’ve killed the poor girl!”

  “I… I know. I’m sorry, ma’am. It’ll never hap—”

  “No, it won’t. Get out of here right now, and don’t let me find you harassing Ilyena again, or I’ll inform Constable Newstead, and he’ll have you arrested.”

  Constable Newstead was an old man who was occasionally sent for to lock up one of the town drunks to sleep off their stupor in the village’s tiny stockade. The thought of being locked up in the drunk tank and ridiculed by the whole town was daunting.

  He climbed to his feet and backed away. He wanted to call out to Ilyena again but couldn’t think of anything to say. It was then he noticed the dead circle of grass surrounding him and the two women.

  I stole too much earth magic from the plants, just like the vitality from Ilyena and those two bullies. I could’ve killed her like I did that bandit chasing me in the cornfield years ago.

  Maisy helped the serving girl to her feet. Ilyena glanced at Malek, but all he could see was the fear in her eyes, and he felt ashamed and disgusted with himself. An angry gesture from Maisy sent him packing. He fled the village until he was out of breath. He stopped, hands on knees, his breath wheezing in his lungs. His wheezing turned to sobs, and he dropped to the dirt, angrily pounding the ground with his hands.

  Even the thought of an angry scolding from Magellan barely registered. He could only think about how there was no way he could ever go back to town again—they would think him a monster and a freak.

  ***

  Malek awoke with a groan. The upbraiding from Magellan had never happened. Instead, the old mage had been sympathetic to Malek’s plight. He remembered the sadness on his master’s face after the events of that day.

  “Take note of this, lad. The common folk fear what they don’t understand. They may label you a monster. You will find yourself feared and unwelcome amongst them. That is why you need to maintain control over your power. Fear it not, but hold a healthy respect for it. You must keep it a secret from everyone. There are those that may even try to befriend you to use your abilities for their own need. In time, you’ll gain the wisdom to see through those that aren’t true in their intentions.”

  After that day in the village, he had seen Ilyena around town on occasion, of course, but she had avoided him, obviously still frightened. As a result, his shame led him to give her a wide berth whenever possible. The fear that he might accidentally hurt her again, perhaps worse the next time, continued to plague him.

  One good thing had come out of the events that day: Thadeus and Earl avoided him as if he had turned into Shaol himself. They never troubled him again—or Ilyena either, to his knowledge. He supposed that was a valuable lesson—to deal with bullies forcefully, as long as he didn’t let circumstances get out of control again.

  Several more years passed, and Malek found out that Ilyena had wed another boy from the village. Soon after that, Magellan was captured, and Malek had left his home and the village behind.

  Try as he might, he was saddened to find he couldn’t picture Ilyena’s face anymore. It was a blur to him, as if the features were slowly being blurred and wiped away by the chilling fog. The face that did come to mind was Nera’s—he realized he missed her companionship, her feisty attitude, confidence, and charming grin. He hoped she and Endira had survived and escaped from the encounter with the Pale Lord.

  They betrayed you and left you to this fate. He tried to summon some sense of anger as if that might keep him warm, but he could barely find a spark. A numbing sadness and loss was all that took hold.

  It was for my own good. Again, I lost control of my power. I’d have destroyed everything, and innocents in Nexus would have been harmed in the battle. I am a monster—I deserve this fate. I can’t blame them for turning on me.

  He rolled over and got to his feet with a groan. He was chilled and sore all over. The stone he had imbued with heat had long since gone cold. He clutched his cloak tighter and tried to think of what he should do.

  Allowing himself a few sips from his waterskin, he munched on a couple pieces of his dwindling supply of salted pork. He knew he needed to ration while still eating and drinking enough to keep his strength up.

  His search had thus far turned up nothing of interest. He could find no sign of the people that had lived there, other than their crumbled architecture. He hoped to find a library or some surviving pieces of literature to study.

  Naught to do but keep exploring. I can’t hold on to what power I have left forever. Eventually, it will be gone, so I need to keep my eyes open for a way to keep warm and find some food and drink—maybe even a way out of here.

  The last thought came with considerably less hope than the previous. He picked the direction he thought he had been traveling in before he had slept and started walking again.

  Chapter 7

  Nera and Endira sat beside each other in the Laughing Lunatic Zombie, quietly conversing while Waresh quaffed ale noisily across the table from them.

  Their table was at the rear of the tavern, which was nearly empty save a handful of folks at that late hour. Any other night prior to the foundry’s destruction, the tavern would’ve been filled with customers, but with the current conditions in the city, people seemed to be staying home and saving what little coin they might have—except for Waresh. The dwarf seemed in a jolly mood, spending coin freely and draining ale as if it was about to run out.


  “You best not overimbibe, dwarf,” Nera said. “You’ll need your skill with that axe soon enough.” She had left a message at the Shiny Gem earlier for him to meet them at the Zombie, and the dwarf had already had an ale or two under his belt when they arrived, she guessed.

  Waresh chuckled. “Don’t ye worry about me. It takes more than a couple tankards of this weak swill to put me under the table.” He belched loudly and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  Nera rolled her eyes, and Endira shrugged.

  “Are you sure about this one?” Endira asked telepathically with a dubious look at the dwarf. “I’m not sure he can be trusted.”

  Nera had grown used to the silent means of communication. Whereas her first experiences had made her feel strangely violated, she now admitted it had its uses. “Best we’ve got to use in these wretched times. I trust him slightly more than I would any regular sellswords, were there any staunch ones to be found anymore. Which, I suppose, is a step above ‘not at all.’”

  She again wished her good friend Wyat and his mercenary company, the Steel Rage, were there, rather than campaigning off plane. She felt she could really use a staunch friend and some dependable muscle to aid in her mad endeavor.

  Her mind was still reeling from the revelations of her dream of the past night. The dreams were occurring more frequently and seemed so real she could scarcely tell them from reality. The stench of sulfur had still haunted her after she’d awakened that morning from the latest dream.

  The Engineer… my father? That cannot be. Throughout the day of preparations, she had tried to convince herself the claim was sheer madness. Despite her denials, however, the insecure orphan in her wanted it to be true—to finally come to know her parents. And that desire, she knew, could be dangerous, blinding her to danger and opening her up to manipulation.

  She shifted her thoughts back to the matter at hand. Just as she opened her mouth to bring up their objective of retrieving the Bracer of Fellraven, the tavern’s background noise suddenly died out. The door slammed shut, followed by the jingle of armor and creak of the floor beneath heavy boots. She could’ve heard a copper bit hit the floor all the way across the common room in the sudden silence.

  Magehunters, Nera thought instantly. Who else could silence a crowd like that? Sure enough, the glint of silvery armor and white tabards became visible in her peripheral vision. She avoided looking so as not to draw their attention, yet could feel the weight of their gaze settle on her. After a moment of silence, she accepted the fact that there would be trouble. Slowly, she turned her head, resigned to a coming fight, even as her hand stole to the hilt of Lightslicer.

  “We will join your quest if you will have us.” An effervescent voice boomed through the near-empty common room. “Sol has guided us here, for our feet now alight upon the same path.”

  Nera was relieved at first when she saw the source of the rich voice. They weren’t Magehunters, but the few patrons in the Zombie gaped in surprise at the three new arrivals—or the first two, more accurately. They stole all the attention, the third going nearly unnoticed. Two towering figures in shining silver plate mail stood midway across the common room, their presence dominating the room as if a pair of gods had stridden in. The dark corners of the tavern seemed to retreat and brighten by virtue of the pair’s presence. Their hair shimmered like molten platinum, and their eyes reflected the light with a blue as pure as a font of holy water.

  Obviously siblings, the plane-blessed were hale and beautiful, the male standing near seven feet tall, while the female herself was over six. Even had the party members been standing, the new arrivals would’ve towered over them. Nera was the tallest and was only about five and a half feet tall. When the duo approached her table, she felt like a child with them looming over her.

  “And who in the bloody Abyss be ye?” Waresh barked. His face had a look of amused disbelief.

  The man frowned at Waresh’s curse, but the woman gave a warm smile and spoke again. “I am Idrimel of the Temple of Sol, and this is my brother Athyzon. And our companion—”

  “Yosrick Sparkspinner, at your service.”

  Everyone’s eyes turned toward the third figure as if surprised to notice him there. He bowed low, looking almost as if he’d topple over. At first, Nera took him for a dwarf in his plate armor and heavy warhammer strapped to his back, but then she noted the pointed chin, long nose, and scruffy-bearded face of a gnome. Yosrick was nearly invisible beside the plane-blessed pair, standing out as much as would a dirty, tarnished copper plucked from the mud and placed beside a pair of polished gold crowns.

  After a moment of uncomfortable staring, Endira spoke up. “Were you expecting any aid, Nera? Truly, we could use all the help we can get.”

  Nera snapped out of her momentary trance, annoyed that she had been staring like a slack-jawed fool as the rest of the tavern had. “Huh, just what we need—a pair of giant, blessed Sol preachers,” she muttered so only her companions at the table could hear. The sense of goodness emanating from the pair put her ill at ease, making her pulse quicken as a feeling of anxiety stole over her. Whether the effect was from their racial heritage or by virtue of their religion, she knew not.

  “Aye, what say ye, lass? We can use a few good swords,” Waresh rumbled. “This lot should make for interesting company, at least.” He snorted what could’ve been a laugh.

  “Are you sure this is the one?” Athyzon asked his sister. He glowered at Nera, barely sparing a glance for the elf or dwarf. He appeared as impressed by her as he would by a clod of dung on the sole of his boot.

  “Yes, Brother, I am sure of it. Marius said I would know her when I saw her, but I know not her name…” Idrimel looked at Nera expectantly, a beatific smile on her face.

  The woman was stunningly beautiful, as was her brother, and Nera instantly disliked them. The gnome she disliked simply because he was a gnome.

  Balor’s balls! We could use some help, but should we really join up with this lot? Interesting company, indeed. She put her face in her palm as she considered what to do. Sabyl, I could really use some guidance.

  As expected, the goddess made no reply.

  I’m no leader… why do they all look to me?

  “Why don’t ye sit yer arses down and have a tankard?” Waresh said. “Ye’re makin’ everyone nervous, standing around like that.” He snorted and took a long draught of his ale.

  The trio looked at Nera inquiringly, as if seeking her permission.

  “Fine,” she huffed, gesturing curtly to the open seats at the table. “I’m Nera, and this is Endira and Waresh.”

  “Pleasure meeting you,” Endira said, obviously more receptive toward the idea of company than Nera was.

  “The pleasure is ours,” Idrimel replied politely although she seemed a bit less confident at Nera’s less than warm reaction.

  Yosrick sat by Waresh, and Idrimel slid in beside Nera. Athyzon took the chair at the end of the table since it was obvious he couldn’t wedge his bulk into the seats along the sides.

  Nera was instantly uncomfortable with the woman’s proximity. She didn’t know if she truly radiated goodness, but it felt like pinpricks against her skin, irritating her and making her uneasy. That, and she suddenly felt claustrophobic. She quickly took a draught of ale before sizing the woman up.

  “Well then, I’ll ask the obvious question. How is it you think you know me and my business? Why are you here?”

  “My brother and I are here on a divine quest—we seek to inhibit Abyssal portals from spawning demons throughout the fair worlds of the multiverse. We fought some foul demons after a portal opened in our fair home world of Ellorya. After arriving in Nexus, we tracked down and slew the fiend responsible for the destruction of the foundry, but alas, it was too late. His evil plans already were afoot, and we couldn’t save the foundry and the many lives lost there. Sol has blessed me with a vision, guiding us to you, for you have a part to play in stopping this invasion and restoring the lands. Any opponent of Sh
aol’s evil plans will be a worthy ally in my opinion.”

  Nera’s thoughts turned to her last dream of the Engineer, who had said much the same thing. Dreams and visions… This is bloody madness. I just want to save Malek and be done with all this nonsense. Let these Solites carry on with this noble quest. I’m neither good nor noble.

  Waresh barked laughter. “This is turning out to be a lot more than finding a lost mage. Mayhap it’ll make a tad more sense after more ale.” He slammed his tankard on the table and bellowed for a refill. A barmaid quickly appeared and took their orders.

  “The dwarf is right,” Nera said. “I aim to find a friend of mine, a mage by the name of Malek, nothing more. As far as saving the city and the multiverse—you’re on your own for that.” She met Idrimel’s eyes and saw disappointment there.

  The priestess exchanged looks with her companions. Athyzon just looked on smugly, as if his opinion of her had just been validated.

  Yosrick shrugged. “You had the vision, not I, Lady Idrimel. All I know is that we are truly buggered, as my Uncle Flurbinger says, unless we find some way to fix this Machine.”

  And the only way to do that is to find the Engineer.

  The barmaid returned with ale for Waresh, Yosrick, and Nera. Endira had a tea, and the Solites water. An uneasy silence stretched over the table.

  “Isn’t that a retrieval officer collar?” Yosrick asked Waresh.

  “Aye,” he replied with a glare. “What of it?”

  “Nothing in particular. Just noticing.” The gnome shrugged and took a long draught of ale.

  Nera thought of the daunting fight ahead just to recover the bracer. She could only speculate as to what obstacles they might face beyond that in trying to find Malek. She eyed the siblings and gnome over the rim of her tankard. Perhaps they can be of some use. After all, here I am drinking ale with the very same bastard that was trying to kill me a few days ago. Doubt these two will stick a knife in my back, at least—they practically ooze virtue and honor.