Arthur Daigle's Blog - Posts Tagged "war"

Homecoming

By Arthur Daigle

Soldiering was supposed to be filled with danger, excitement and riches, but Castmal was certain that walking belonged at the top of that list. Three years a soldier and he’d walked something over a thousand miles through mud, brush, rocks and whatever else the world could throw at him. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d ridden by wagon or boat, and it had never been for long. Travel might broaden the mind, but it certainly wore out the boots.

“When shall we reach our destination?” Balefire asked.

“Soon,” Castmal said. “I can see the lights from here.”

Normally he didn’t like talking to Balefire, but today he traveled alone. This road to Ironcliff went through farmland. The broad fields had been harvested long ago and farmhouses were few and far away. This late in the year there was little traffic so he wouldn’t arouse suspicion. It was also getting dark, so there would be even fewer people who might see Castmal talking to himself.

“It shall be good to find friends,” it said, “worthy allies to serve your rise to power.”

Castmal sighed. “I told you to cut it out. You’re going to get me killed talking like that.”

“Your concerns are warrantless,” Balefire told him. “Your future was set when we met. This journey will only add to your strength once we reach your friends and kinfolk. We can count on their support in the years to come.”

“I just hope they’re all right,” he said as he passed a farmhouse. “A lot can happen in three years. I’m proof of it.”

“If your kin are in danger we will protect them,” it said with its usual boundless confidence. “If they have left for greener pastures we will find them. If they have gone to the next world, we will mourn them and avenge their passing.”

Balefire no doubt meant that to be reassuring, but it didn’t know IronCliff. Castmal had grown up in the city and knew the heights and depths it could reach. A hundred thousand people in one place left a lot of room for thieves, assassins and other vermin to hide, like serpents in a wheat field. He hadn’t worried about what might happen to the people he loved when he’d joined the army, but now that he was coming home the thought was foremost in his mind.

Ironcliff hadn’t been dangerous for Castmal when he’d lived there. One look at him convinced most people to leave him alone, and that had been before he’d joined the army. Tall, strong, with dark hair and scars alone his jaw, he was an intimidating sight. Fighting had only added to that. The worn clothes he’d once had were replaced with chain leggings and shirt, a steel breastplate and a shoulder guard on his left arm. He’d kept his long sword and two daggers when he left the service. The weapons might arouse suspicion in other cities, but not in IronCliff. Castmal wore a cotton uniform and cloak over his armor, a backpack and a leather strap wrapped tight over his left arm from the elbow to his fingers. The strap never came off around people.

“Are those lights in the distance Ironcliff?” Balefire asked.

“That’s home,” Castmal answered.

“We will not reach it until well after nightfall,” Balefire cautioned.

“Yes, mother,” he said sarcastically. “I’m not going to travel at night. I’ll find a place to stay, and you need to keep quiet.”

“I was quiet for centuries. It is overrated.”

Castmal looked at the farmhouses along the road. There weren’t many to choose from, and most of those were already sealed tight. He knew better than to knock on closed doors at night. The countryside wasn’t as dangerous as Ironcliff, but there were dangers that crept out under the cover of darkness. Only fools let in strangers at this hour.

That put Castmal in a predicament. He could drive off enemies with a look, but that would close doors, too. He’d rather not spend another night under the stars. It didn’t help that he’d run out of food this morning.

There was a farmhouse not far ahead with an open door. A young man sat outside sharpening a hoe with a steel file. His clothes were a simple cotton tunic and trousers, and he looked bored. The next nearest house was miles down the road, making this his best bet.

“Greetings,” he called. The farmer looked up in surprise. Castmal stopped a healthy distance from the man and said, “Forgive the intrusion, but can you spare space on your floor for a man in need? I wouldn’t ask, but it’s getting dark and I don’t trust these roads at night.”

The farmer looked him up and down. “I can’t see anyone bothering you, night or day.”

Castmal shrugged. “I’ve learned not to tempt fate. I can pay for the help, provided you accept trade.”

A young woman appeared at the door. Castmal guessed she was the farmer’s wife, and judging by her belly they’d have a son or daughter before the month ended. She asked, “What kind of pay?”

Castmal dug into his backpack and pulled out a handful of furs. “Rabbit and squirrel. I caught them earlier this week.”

The farmer and his wife came over to look at the furs. The farmer studied Castmal’s armor while the woman ran her fingers over the furs. She smiled and said, “These are good. I can make mittens from these.”

“We can put you up for the night and feed you, but as you say, the only place to sleep is the floor,” the farmer told him.

“That’s generous.” Castmal kept his face neutral, but he was surprised how quickly they let him into their home. In his experience people ran inside and barred the doors when armed men appeared.

The couple let him inside and the wife quickly put the furs away. The farmhouse was a small, one room building. Farm tools and clothing took up one corner opposite a bed with a straw mattress. The kitchen was a brick oven against the back way. There were bags of dried food and clay pots filled with local spices and pickled fish.

“You’re back from the war?” the farmer asked. He offered Castmal a stool while he and his wife sat on the bed.

Castmal sat down, only too glad to stop moving. He slid off his backpack and set it on the floor. “I was mustered out two months ago.”

“Is it going well?” he asked.

“Wars never go well.” Castmal would have liked to end it at that, but the couple looked eager for more. They’d probably let him in so they could hear news of the outside world. If words could smooth his stay then he’d talk.

“The fighting is a mess,” he said. “We lose men and the Principalities lose men. I suppose someone’s keeping track and one day they’ll decide who won, but for those of us doing the fighting you win if you live to see the sun rise.”

“You must have seen interesting places, though,” he pressed.

“They’re not interesting after they’ve been fought over.” Castmal looked at the fire in the brick oven. It reminded him of the last town he’d been in before he left the army. “Soldiers take whatever they can find. They have to when supplies don’t come in. All the animals are killed for food, wild and domestic. Wrecked homes are broken up for firewood. If there’s anything of value it’s sold for food. The locals run away if they can and beg for help if they can’t.”

The farmer whistled. “You couldn’t pay me enough for that.”

“What did they pay you?” his wife asked. Her husband looked at her, and she held up one of the furs. “You said you’ve no coin. I’m happy with the furs, but I would think you’d barely be able to walk under the weight of your wages.”

“My wages.” Bitterness crept into Castmal’s voice. “I was promised ten silver pieces per month and three meals a day. I’m owed three hundred silver pieces back pay, and there are better odds of me flying than ever seeing it. As for the food, we did well if they fed us three meals a week. We foraged for the rest. Creator help me, there were days I wondered whose side our generals were on.”

The farmer’s wife handed Castmal a wood bowl filled with oatmeal and a small wood plate with two eggs. “Sounds beastly. I know it’s not as much as you’d like, or need, but it’s what we can spare.”

Castmal took the food and smiled at her. “This is good food for the little I gave you. Eggs. It’s been a long time since I had eggs.”

Castmal wolfed down the food, glad to have a full stomach. He was halfway done with the simple meal when the farmer said, “But you must have taken money from the enemy.”

“Let him eat!” his wife chastised him.

Castmal ate one of the eggs and said, “Principalities soldiers were paid as poorly as we were. They had few coins and no jewelry. We sold what little we found to merchants for food. We used the weapons we took from the enemy when our own swords broke.” He tapped his long sword’s handle and said, “This used to belong to an enemy officer.”

“Don’t suppose you found any treasure,” the farmer said.

It took a lot of effort not to look at his left arm. “Nothing I could sell.”

They’d found treasure in the early days of the war, looting enemy homes and castles for anything of value. Officers had a bad habit of taking the best pickings for themselves, so Castmal and his fellow soldiers had to be quick. ‘No sir, nothing here, sir’. Castmal’s captain, an aristocrat named Becack, had suspected them of holding back loot and ordered the men searched. That had ended badly.

Castmal didn’t tell the farmer that, or any number of horrible things that had happened. You can’t explain to a person what war was really like. The long weeks of boredom between battles, the intense fear waiting for an enemy, or how even a farm field can become a place of horror when a battle begins. Nothing in normal life could compare to the gut wrenching fear of a fellow soldier screaming, ‘Wizard!’ before fire and death rained down around you.

“Were there monsters?” the farmer asked.

“Husband!” his wife said sharply. “You’ll have to forgive him, he seems to have left his manners outside.”

“There were monsters,” Castmal said. He finished his food and handed back the plate and bowl. “There were wyverns and chimera. We fought a hydra once. The blasted thing wouldn’t die. Finally ended up burying it alive when we collapsed a stone tower on it. Not sure if it’s still breathing down there, but I wouldn’t risk digging it up. Monsters weren’t what we really worried about.”

“No?” the farmer asked. He leaned in closer.

“There were never many of them on the front,” Castmal explained. “Monsters eat too much. You could feed a platoon with what one monster ate, and nothing but meat would do. If they didn’t get fed they’d attack their own men. They never followed orders well regardless of what the beast tamers say. Monsters panicked if there was a big fire and they ran if a fight got too serious. Smart that way.”

Castmal chuckled. “Funny thing happened once with a mimic, though. The thing looked like a big wooden chest with a fancy metal lock. Real convincing. It wasn’t working for the Principalities, just saw the fighting and snuck in for a free meal of horsemeat after a failed cavalry charge. The fool thing stayed too long, though, and my captain spotted it. He though he’d found an enemy pay chest and stuck it rich.”

“What happened?” the wife asked.

“It kept pretending it was just a chest. The captain couldn’t get it open, so he ordered some men to get an ax and cut it open. The mimic heard that and ran off screaming. It knocked the captain over and ran right over him! We laughed so hard a company of crossbowmen came over and then some lancers. The captain kept ordering us to shut up and we just laughed harder.”

The couple laughed. It was funny, one of the few happy memories Castmal had from the war. Happy times were few and far between back then. Of course getting back to Ironcliff was no guarantee things would be better, but they’d have a hard time being worse.

Worried by what the answer might be, Castmal asked, “Has much happened in the city?”

The farmer shrugged. “Taxes went up a couple times to pay for the war. It’s all we can do to keep a roof over our heads and food on our plates. There are executions, sometimes three a week. A lot of thieves end their lives hanging from a tree.”

Three executions a week was normal for Ironcliff and no threat to Castmal’s friends and families. They stayed clear of that kind of trouble. But there were bigger threats that could sweep up the innocent with the guilty. He asked, “No plagues or riots? No fires?”

“No, Creator be praised,” the farmer’s wife said.

“Good,” Castmal said. “I was worried a refugee might have brought in a plague. A sword’s no good against that.”

The farmer’s wife smiled and got up. “I have a blanket you can lay on, and you’re welcome to sleep by the fire. The bricks will stay hot most of the night.”

“Generous of you,” Castmal said. He looked at the door and asked, “Mind if I step out for a moment? I like to look around before I go to sleep. Old habit.”

The farmer nodded. “Feel free.”

Castmal got up and opened the door. He studied the farmland, looking for threats. It was foolish to think something would happen here. He heard only the wind and some bugs. There was nothing to see but farmland as flat as a table, and the stubbly on the field offered no cover for attackers. Now that he thought of it, there was no one who might attack. The Principalities was far away. Monsters wouldn’t come this close to a city. There were bandits, of course, but they attacked people with money. One look was enough to tell that none of these farmers were prosperous enough to bother robbing. But Castmal had done this every night for three years, and likely would until he died.

The farmer walked up alongside him. “Crickets are singing. They’ll be gone when we get a strong frost.”

Castmal glanced at the man, not sure why he’d said that.

The farmer looked at the setting sun. “They only live a year. They spend all their time in one field, then one day there’s a frost and they’re gone.” He looked ashamed. “I don’t want to be like that. I love my wife, but I don’t want to spend my whole life here, never moving, never seeing anything but these fields.”

The good reception made sense now. The farmer didn’t just want news. He wanted more than his simple life here, and hearing stories was the closest he was likely going to get. It wasn’t surprising. Castmal had been seduced by the same dreams of wealth and adventure, as had many of the men he’d served with. Some had joined out of desperation, running away from debts or the law, but most had been tricked into thinking they were going on to glory instead of horror and deprivation.

“I’d give anything for the life you have,” Castmal told him. “Anything to take away the last three years.”

The farmer stared at him. “You want this?”

“Yes. So would the men I’d served with. I’m going home broke, but some of them are returning crippled. A lot of them aren’t returning. I’m not even sure what I’m coming home to. You have a livelihood here with your farm. You have a wife and a child on the way. You have a future. I’m not sure I do.”

“Ahem.”

“Did you hear something?” the farmer asked.

Castmal rapped his left arm against the doorframe. “No. I…wait.”

“What is it?”

“The cricket’s stopped singing.”

A cloud of fetid air washed over them, heavy with the stench of rotting flesh that Castmal had become familiar with. The farmer coughed and covered his mouth and nose with his shirtsleeve. Castmal drew his long sword and stepped away from the farmhouse. He couldn’t see the source of this stench, but it wasn’t natural.

The sun was nearly set, but a full moon offered at least a little light. Castmal peered into the darkness. He heard something moving, crushing the wheat stubble underfoot. There were one, two, three things moving out in the fields. The footsteps were irregular and make no effort to avoid making noise. The stink got worse, and Castmal saw three shapes that might be men shuffling through the fields ever closer to the farmhouse.

“Inside, now!” Castmal ordered the farmer.

The farmer backed away. “I—”

“Do you have a weapon?” Castmal demanded.

“A pitchfork,” he said.

“Get inside and grab it. Bar the door if you want to see the morning!”

The farmer ran inside and slammed the door shut. Castmal heard a thunk as the door was barred, followed by the farmer and his wife speaking in worried voices. The shambling forms were a hundred feet out and coming closer. One tripped on the stubble and got up slowly. They weren’t moving fast, but they weren’t stopping.

Castmal unwrapped his left arm to reveal a silvery gauntlet covering his arm from elbow to fingertips. It was a masterpiece, beautifully embellished with a dragon.

“Finally,” Balefire said.

“We’re earning our meal tonight,” Castmal said. He stepped away from the house to give himself room to move. “Zombies. I count three.”

“I despise these abominations,” Balefire said in disgust. The gauntlet warmed up and flowed like melted wax, oozing down his arm. He held up his left hand as the silvery liquid reformed into a short sword with a dragon emblem on the blade. It lit up like a torch, providing much needed light.

The light showed that Castmal was right. The three shambling things had been men once. Their clothes were muddy rags. Their skin was discolored and torn. One of the zombies had no eyes, but that didn’t slow it down as it advanced on Castmal. They would be on him soon.

Castmal charged the closest zombie, hoping to dispatch it before all three were on him together. The nightmarish thing tried to grab him, its movements slow and awkward. He stepped to the left and swung his long sword in a low arc. His aim was good and he took off one of its legs at the knee. The monster fell, but no sooner had it landed than it crawled after him.

Zombies didn’t die like men or animals. Their organs were just dead weight, so a blow to the chest or stomach was worthless. They couldn’t bleed to death, either. Castmal had fought their kind before and knew he had to behead them, and the best way to do that was to cripple them first.

“The others are coming on your right,” Balefire said.

Castmal brought his long sword down on the crawling zombie, taking its head off with one blow. The monstrosity slumped to the ground as the second and third zombies came at Castmal. He lashed out and took off one of his attacker’s hands with his long sword, then followed up by driving Balefire into its belly.

“Burn!” he ordered.

Balefire blazed with a terrible white light, cremating the zombie from the inside out. The light spilled out of its mouth and open wounds as it arched its back. Then decaying flesh and bones alike burned away. There was nothing left of the zombie but ashes on the field.

The last zombie grabbed Castmal by his left arm. It pulled him to the ground and leaned over him, its jaw opened wide for a bite to his throat. He brought his legs up and kicked it in the head with both feet. That was enough to knock the zombie on its back. They both scrambled to their feet, but Castmal was faster. He swung his long sword and took off the last zombie’s head before it could stand.

“Well done, my King.” Balefire said.

“I told you to stop that!” he shouted. He sheathed his long sword and pointed at his brow. “Do you see a crown here?”

“A temporary situation. I served kings and was buried with one. When you freed me from that wretched tomb I knew I served another. One day you will rule.”

Castmal grumbled and bent down to inspect the last zombie he’d defeated. “There are rope marks on the neck and wrists. This man was hung. He’s not too far gone, either. A necromancer must have stolen the body after he was executed and animated it.”

“Check the other one.”

The first zombie he’d killed was in better shape. “No rope marks or wounds. No signs of disease, either. He was pretty young. I think this one may have drown.”

“Both are freshly dead, no older than a week,” Balefire said.

Castmal rubbed his chin. “Zombies are mindless, but they serve their maker. Why would a necromancer want to kill these people? They have nothing to steal.”

Castmal’s mind raced. “Could be someone wants the farmland. It’s got to be worth gold, and if the owners are dead it could be claimed. It might be the work of the Principalities. No one can spread fear like a necromancer, and killing farmers would keep food from soldiers still on the front. Or the necromancer might want bodies and not be picky how they die.”

“Or the necromancer is insane and there is no reason,” Balefire suggested. “Madness is an occupational hazard in their profession.”

“Yeah,” he said. The air was still foul, more so after he’d cut open the zombies, but he heard nothing. There was no sign that he was still in danger, but he kept both his long sword and Balefire drawn. “I’d bet gold to silver than whoever made these is close by. They’d have to be to recover the zombies after the attack. Wouldn’t do to let them wander around and be found.”

“Zombies can’t follow complex orders. He could order them to kill the farmer and wife, but they wouldn’t remember a second order to come back afterwards.”

“Why do you say he? Could be a woman who did this.”

“This is the fourth necromancer I have faced. They’re always men.”

“Then he’s going to come pick up his zombies,” Castmal said. “When he gets here he’ll find them in pieces. Has to figure if someone took them down then he’s in danger. You think he’ll run? Running would be smart.”

“It wouldn’t be smart,” Balefire said. “If he killed the family and left with their bodies, few could say who or what did the deed. But with witnesses and destroyed zombies, there would be no doubt who was responsibility for the attack. The authorities would begin a manhunt of epic proportions, turning over every stone until they found him. The punishment for necromancy varies by kingdom. It starts at burning at the stake and gets worse from there.”

“So he’s got no choice but to fight,” Castmal said. “I hate fighting people with no way out. They do stupid things. Dim your light. We’ll wait for him and finish it here.”

As Balefire’s light diminished, there was a creak behind them. Castmal turned to find the farmer opening his door. Before the man could say a word, Castmal shouted, “I said keep that door closed! This isn’t over, and it’s going to get worse!”

The door slammed shut.

“We could be in a lot of trouble,” Castmal said. “The necromancer could attack the farmer and his wife, or one of the other farms here. I’d have to defend them and fight him at the same time. Can’t call on the farmers living here for help, either. Poor weapons, untrained, they’d be butchered.”

“A bad situation to be sure, but we will be victorious. Honestly, though, you don’t need two swords even for a job this important.”

“If men saw me using you, they’d kill me without a second’s hesitation to have you for themselves. If they don’t see me with a sword at all then some idiot would pick a fight, maybe try to rob me. You stay covered up and quiet unless you’re needed.”

Castmal waited in the darkness. The ghostly light from the full moon helped a little, but not much. He didn’t hear anything approaching. The stink of the dead zombies clung to him, making his stomach roll. He tried to guess how much time had passed. Clocks were rare even in cities, but there were some in Ironcliff so he was used to thinking in terms of hours. An hour crept by, then two.

Ironcliff was still visible in the distance as a collection of lights. There were fewer of them burning at such a late hour, but it was still a beacon in the night. He thought again of his home city, of the family he’d left behind. Oddly his mind kept coming back to his favorite restaurant, a nameless, dimly lit little hole in the wall that cooked the best meals he’d ever had. Of course with no money he couldn’t eat there when he got home.

There was no getting around it; he was coming back empty handed. He had no money and nothing he could sell except his armor and long sword. Three years of his life gone and he didn’t have a coin to show for his sacrifices. How could he face his family?

He had Balefire, but he dared not sell it. The sword was alive. You didn’t sell living, thinking beings. But even if he was that depraved, he was smart enough to know that anyone who might buy it would prefer to kill him and take it off his body.

His old captain Becack had tried to kill him. When he’d ordered the men searched for holding back loot, he saw the leather strap covering Castmal’s arm. Becack guessed something was under it besides a wound and tore the strap off. One look at Balefire and the fool’s eyed had lit up with greed, and drew his sword. It had been all Castmal could do to fend off Becack’s furious attacks. The other soldiers had saved him and made it look like a sniper killed the captain.

But Castmal had more immediate problems. “You’ve fought necromancers. What can I expect?”

“I thought you’d fought zombies before?”

“Zombies, but not necromancers.” Castmal was silent for a moment before he said, “It happened before I found you. The Principalities hired a necromancer and had him animate the bodies of our dead, then sent them at us. Happened three times in a week.”

“That must have been horrible. What happened to the necromancer?”

“It ended when a Principalities platoon came under a flag of truce and gave us the necromancer’s head. They said they weren’t party to hiring him, and once they realized what was going on they did something about it.”

“An ending worthy of such a fiend.”

“What can I expect from him?” Castmal asked again.

Balefire’s voice took a harsh tone when he spoke. “Most of their magic is devoted to creating the undead. They have dangerous combat magic as well, but the range is limited.”

“Arrow range or knife range?”

“Their magic reach as far as a thrown rock, but does terrible damage. I will offer warning if I recognize any of his spells. Hold back nothing against this foe, for he will show you no mercy in battle or in death.”

That was a possibility Castmal hadn’t considered. If he died the necromancer would animate his body and send him to kill others. He’d be nothing but a mindless puppet with the necromancer holding the strings. The only mercy would be that without his mind he couldn’t control Balefire.

“He’s here.”

Castmal crouched down at Balefire’s warning. “Where?”

“You see those light coming up the road? They’re called corpse fire, a necromancer’s way to light the land. He can see through them, too.”

Castmal stared down the road and saw pinpricks of light floating at head height. There were five of them, bobbing up and down as they came closer. They were a mile away and moving lazily toward him.

“Not much of a rush,” Castmal said. With his enemy so far off he stood up straight again. “Figure he knows something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. He’s too far away to see the zombies or the farmhouse they were going to attack.”

The corpse fires came closer. They spread out across the field, moving at a leisurely rate. Castmal saw figures moving far behind them. There were five of them, four shambling and one walking more smoothly.

“He’s got more zombies. Those corpse fires, can they hurt me? Can I hurt them?”

“No to both questions.”

Castmal frowned as the corpse fires spread out farther. “Doubt we can avoid them. No place to hide except the farmhouse. We’re going to have to fight them head on.”

The corpse fires, zombies and necromancer came ever closer, showing no sign of haste or alarm. It was tough odds even with Balefire. The thought that he might die within sight of Ironcliff disgusted Castmal. He’d survived terrible battles for years. To die so close to home seemed wrong. And if he died the farmer and his wife would be the necromancer’s next victims.

The corpse fires came close enough for Castmal to see them clearly. They looked like flaming skulls hovering through the air. One of them floated over the first zombie Castmal had destroyed. The other four circled about until they found the second destroyed zombie. Then one saw Castmal.

He smiled at it. “Surprise.”

That corpse fire backed away while the others approached. Two studied the farmhouse and the other three circled Castmal.

“You’re sure I can’t kill these things?”

“Quite certain.”

The corpse fires kept their distance as the necromancer and his four undead minions came ever closer. They still didn’t hurry. That annoyed Castmal. The necromancer had proof that two of his zombies were destroyed, and the third was missing and presumed dead. This called for action! But the necromancer continued his stroll like a man on a shopping trip. It was almost offensive how little this seemed to bother him.

The zombies and their master finally got to within thirty feet of Castmal before they stopped. Two corpse fires hovered over their master while the other three stayed by Castmal. The four zombies were far more decomposed than the three he’d already face, missing their eyes and skin. It was a good bet they wouldn’t last the week even if Castmal didn’t defeat them. The necromancer kept behind his minions, but Castmal still got a good look at him. He wore billowing robes and leather boots. But his boyish face caught Castmal off guard.

“I thought he’d be older,” Castmal whispered.

“A common misconception,” Balefire whispered back. “Few necromancers live long enough to get gray hair.”

“You were right, it’s a man. I owe you a beer.” Balefire chuckled in response.

“This is annoying,” the necromancer declared. He had a petulant expression and an annoying voice that made Castmal want to slap him.

“We went past annoying a while ago,” Castmal replied. He considered the reasons why the necromancer might be here. The man didn’t look insane, just spoiled. That meant this night’s horror was probably over money. “You’re not getting paid enough for this.”

The necromancer’s look of irritation slipped for a moment to show surprise and a touch of fear. But he recovered quickly. “And what are you being paid to die tonight?”

“Me? I got two eggs.”

“Eggs? Eggs!”

Castmal nodded. “Eggs. And some oatmeal. Truth is I’d have done it for free. Do you know where I’ve been?”

The necromancer folded his arms across his chest. “You’re another washed up old soldier, battle fodder for whatever war is popular this year. Your kind infests the roads like lice on a peasant. No one cares where you’ve been and no one will care when you die.”

“Can you say otherwise? Is anybody going to care when you don’t come home tonight?”

The necromancer’s face flushed red. “I’ll show them! All of them! My parents, my classmates and the people who laughed at me! They’ll know my name and they will weep for years to come!”

“Don’t lie to me. I saw the look on your face when I guessed this was about money. You have excuses, but if you’re getting paid then that’s all they are. Kid, I’ve put enough men in the ground to fill a cemetery. I took down three of your rot bags without getting a scratch. Four more aren’t going to save you. I’m giving you a chance to be smart. Walk away now and this ends.”

Hopefully it would end in a platoon of Ironcliff soldiers chasing the necromancer down and hanging him. Castmal wondered if the fool had thought that far ahead.

“You’re right on one count,” the necromancer sneered. “This ends.”

The four zombies came at him while the necromancer stayed back. They were close enough that they’d come at him in a group rather than one at a time. But they were clumped together, and he could use that.

Castmal charged the zombies and hacked at the first one’s leg. He didn’t take it off, but he cut through enough muscles that the zombie fell over. The next zombie stumbled over the first one. The other two went around the pile, giving Castmal enough time to attack the fallen zombies and decapitate one. The two still standing attacked, and he backed away and stabbed one with Balefire.

“Burn!” Castmal shouted. The zombie went up like a torch, burning away to ashes in seconds. The necromancer shielded his eyes from the sudden light. That left Castmal to fight only two zombies and the necromancer, and he could handle three to one odds.

The necromancer spoke strange, forgotten words. His eyes turned black and he threw back his head. A gurgling noise bubbled from his throat before he vomited out a stream of black steaming liquid like a geyser. The filth stunk like boiling tar, and there was far more than his stomach could possibly contain. Castmal jumped out of the way as the glistening, ebony stream splashed where he’d been standing. It struck the two zombies on the ground, one dead again and the other struggling to its feet. Both dissolved under the caustic spray and left behind nothing but bones.

“Two more behind you,” Balefire warned.

Castmal backed away from the necromancer and what he’d thought was the last zombie. He glanced behind him and saw two zombies coming from up the road. The necromancer’s slow pace made sense now. He’d directed two of his undead minions to attack Castmal from behind and waited until they were in place. But the attack’s timing was off. The zombies were coming in two groups and could be handled separately.

The necromancer stumbled away. The spell had clearly taken a lot out of him and he needed time to recover. Castmal charged the last zombie in front of its master and hacked off its left arm. He tried to push past it and get to the necromancer, but the thing grabbed him with its remaining arm and tried to bite him. Its teeth didn’t break through his chain shirt, but the force of the bite bruised his arm. Castmal stabbed it in the face with Balefire and forced it off, then took off its remaining hand. His next blow removed its head.

The necromancer shook himself like a wet dog and stood straight. He pulled a thighbone from inside his cloak and pointed it at Castmal. The necromancer spoke more foul, forgotten words, and the bone began to glow.

“Cover your eyes,” Balefire said.

Castmal wrapped his right arm over his face and turned away just as the thighbone shattered into a cloud of long, sharp bone splinters. They hit Castmal like a wave of nails. Most broke against his armor, but some drove through his chain leggings and shirt, and two cut gashes across his forehead.

“Die!” the necromancer screamed. “Just die, you pathetic, washed up tramp!”

Castmal pulled his arm away and wiped the blood off his brow. The last two zombies were almost in range to attack. Whether he faced the necromancer of his zombies, the other could strike him from behind. But the necromancer was the bigger threat, and more importantly, he could feel fear.

Howling a battle cry, Castmal charged the necromancer. His enemy cast another spell and produced a shadowy viper ten feet long. The magic snake hissed and threw itself into the air at Castmal, its jaws wide enough to fit his entire head inside. Castmal swung Balefire and jammed the blade through its head, pinning its jaws shut. He followed with a stroke of his long sword that cut the serpent in half. The snake turned to a viscous slime that splatted across Castmal and the farm field.

The necromancer’s jaw dropped in surprise and he ran with Castmal a step behind. But the necromancer wore no heavy armor, and with each step he put more distance between them. Once he had enough breathing room, he cast another spell. His hands twisted like squid tentacles and he cried out in pain. His fingernails suddenly stretched out until they were a foot long and glowed sickly green.

Castmal swung his long sword at the necromancer’s chest. He needed only a glancing blow to draw blood, and a solid hit could cripple his foe. The necromancer countered the blade with his freakish claws. Sparks flew as he stopped the sword cold. The necromancer swung his other hand at Castmal’s face. Castmal blocked with Balefire, and neither the magic sword nor his enemy’s claws gave way.

For a moment the two pressed against one another, swords and claws locked together. Castmal would have bet anything that he could knock over the necromancer, but the fiend held his ground. Neither budged an inch.

“Why kill these people?” Castmal shouted at him.

“Someone had to be first,” the necromancer snarled in reply. “They’ll all die, everyone here, screaming and begging and—”

“The zombies are catching up to us!” Balefire warned.

The necromancer stared at the sword in confusion. It was all Castmal needed. He stepped back and the necromancer stumbled forward. Castmal went left and swept his long sword at the man’s ankle. It wasn’t more than a glancing blow, but enough to cut through the man’s boot and his Achilles’ tendon. The necromancer screamed in pain and fell forward as his leg gave way. He reached out with both hands to break his fall, which kept him from blocking an attack with his claws. Castmal drove Balefire through the necromancer’s gut and pulled it out again in a flash. The necromancer fell to the ground.

“Behind you!”

Castmal whirled around to find both zombies within arm’s reach. He swung his long sword at a zombie’s head, but his aim was off and the blade sunk deep into its shoulder. The two zombies pummeled him with their fists and drove him to his knees. Castmal hacked through a zombie’s knees with Balefire. The monster fell backward, and when it did it took the long sword with it, pulling the weapon from Castmal’s hands. The other zombie grabbed him by his neck and throttled him. He rocked back and forth, trying to break free. He pulled at the zombie’s hands, and to his horror he tore off its fingers.

Behind him, the necromancer pulled himself to his knees. He pressed both hands against his wound and began to cast another spell.

Castmal drove Balefire into the standing zombie, but his throat hurt so much he couldn’t order Balefire to burn. The zombie clubbed Castmal with its arms. He pulled Balefire free and plunged it into the zombie’s knee. The zombie fell on top of him and he threw it off. Both zombies were down but not destroyed, and they crawled after Castmal.

The necromancer continued with his spell. He stopped twice, gasping in pain, but did not stop. Castmal ran at the necromancer and reversed his grip on Balefire so it pointed down. He grabbed the hilt with both hands and kicked the necromancer over, then drove the sword through the necromancer’s heart. The necromancer gasped and fell to the ground, finally dead. The crippled zombies slumped over at their master’s death, and the corpse fires winked out, plunging the land into darkness once more.

“How badly are you hurt?” Balefire asked.

Castmal slumped down to the ground next to the necromancer’s body. He croaked, “Give me a minute.”

He put the sword down and rubbed his throat. Castmal pulled the bone needles from the necromancer’s thighbone weapon out of his arm. His arms and face hurt, and he likely looked like he’d wrestled an ogre. He was bruised and cut in a couple places, but he’d been hurt worse than this before.

“Why didn’t you burn the necromancer when you first struck me with him?” Balefire asked.

“Need, need his face. Someone might know who he is, and they can’t identify a pile of ashes.”

Balefire turned into a silvery liquid again and slithered up Castmal’s left arm. It reformed into a gauntlet and asked, “Do you need a healer?”

“No. I need a week to rest.” He laughed, his voice sounding harsh. “And I’m not getting it.”

“What do you mean?”

Castmal struggled to his feet and stumbled over to the two zombies. He grabbed the hilt of his long sword and put his foot on the dead monster’s chest, then pulled hard. The blade came out so fast he nearly fell over. He stood on unsteady legs and pointed the sword at the necromancer. “Someone hired him to do this. Someone knew who he was and what he did, and they hired him anyway. They did it outside my home city. There’s a price to pay for that.”

Staggering back to the farmhouse, he asked, “You know what we’re going to do? You and I are going back to the farmer and his wife, and we are going to tell them everything is okay, that this is over. And we won’t be lying, because we are not walking away from this mess. In the morning we going home and find anyone who will still talk to me, and I’m going to tell them what happened here.”

“Does that include the authorities?”

Laughing even though it hurt, Castmal said, “They couldn’t even feed me when I fought a war for them!” Thinking better of it, he said, “I’ll tell them. If I don’t the farmer will. But I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for them to fix this. You, and I, and my friends and family, we are going to find who is behind this. We are going to hunt them down no matter where they are or who they are, and we are going to kill them.”

Balefire glowed brighter, and its voice was heavy with pride. “As my King wills it, so shall it be done.”

This is the first part of the Dana Illwind and Sorcerer Lord Jayden story Rescue.
* * * * *
“I thought there would be fighting in a war,” Dana said. Jayden glanced at her, and she added, “The kingdom is at war with three nations at once, except you’d never guess it by looking around. Everything is so…normal.”

“It’s not surprising,” he told her. “Moving thousands of men hundreds of miles takes weeks, especially when they have to carry most of what they need with them. Even when they reach the enemy, there’s only going to be a few major battles and a number of skirmishes and ambushes. When autumn arrives, the fighting will stop until the following spring.”

“Assuming neither side wins,” Dana said.

It was a warm spring day as Dana Illwind and Sorcerer Lord Jayden marched down a lonely road. There were few farms or ranches, mostly pastures with fresh green grass. In time herds of cattle would be driven here to feed, but for now there was nothing but wild animals and the occasional traveler.

Dana had been following Jayden ever since he’d saved her village from a monster. She’d joined him in large part to try to redirect his fury away from the king and queen and onto legitimate threats. She’d thought that a sorcerer could do great good for the common man, making up for the lack of support from the throne. Too late she’d learned how much suffering the king and queen were responsible for. For years Dana had been afraid for her homeland. After twelve months traveling the kingdom, she’d come to be afraid of her homeland.

“What’s upsetting you?” he asked.

“It’s that obvious?” Dana frowned. “It’s just, I used to think the kingdom had problems, but nothing we couldn’t deal with. It was a bunch of little things people could overcome if they worked together. Since we’ve been traveling together, I’ve seen most of our problems are from our own leaders and the men they’ve surrounded themselves with. What can you do when tens of thousands of soldiers and their leaders are behind what’s going wrong?”

“We face no small challenge, Dana. Ending the war is a massive undertaking, made worse by the overwhelming number of men who serve willingly and embrace the chance to visit war upon neighboring lands and their people. Dealing with this threat is going to take years, and we will take enormous risks throughout that time. Make no mistake, we are trying to stop if not entirely remake a nation gone mad.”

In the last year he and Dana had done what they could to prevent the king and queen from going to war with Brandish, Kaleoth and Zentrix, three small neighboring kingdoms. They’d stolen armor, killed monsters, rescued child slaves, even defeated skeletal armies made by a now dead necromancer. They’d enjoyed far more success than Dana had dared dream possible, yet had failed in their mission. The king and queen had declared war on Kaleoth the preceding winter, and on Brandish and Zentrix early in spring.

Jayden had fought tooth and nail for decades to prevent such wars. He’d waged a one-man campaign against the royal couple, hurting them at every opportunity across the entire kingdom. His friends were few, his enemies were legion, and hope as rare as gold. Dana was just a farmgirl until meeting him, and was staggered at the risks he ran, even more so because he was the king’s son, long thought dead. Who could do this without breaking?

So far Jayden was holding up, but the strain was showing. The world’s only sorcerer lord had a fierce temper, and it was getting worse. His black and silver clothes were fraying at the edges. His backpack was getting thin as he spent more and more of his limited money. Jayden’s perpetually messy blond hair was even worse than normal, and he’d refused her offers to cut it. He needed her help to stay focused, but just as importantly he needed some shred of hope, a sign that they weren’t on a fool’s errand.

If Jayden was looking worse, Dana was improving. She was in good health and had managed to replace her worn out clothes weeks ago with new summer wear, simple but comfortable cotton clothes. Her long brown hair was tied in a ponytail. She was even armed, a rarity among peasants, and with a magic sword called Chain Cutter.

Chain Cutter had been crafted using dwarf rune magic, Jayden’s shadow magic, a chimera horn and a sliver of magic metal called uram. The short sword was black edged with silver, serrated ridges on one side and mystic runes near the base with a black hardwood handle. Chain Cutter had proven devastating in combat, cutting through nearly anything. Jayden was still giving her sword fighting lessons, and she was learning fast.

“The war is heavily delayed, in part because of us,” Jayden explained. “We destroyed the only major bridge to Kaleoth, leaving them safe for the time being. Suzy Lockheart closed one of the mountain passes leading to Brandish. This will limit how much fighting can take place until the routes are clear.”

“What about Zentrix?” Dana asked. “We weren’t able to help them.”

“There are relatively few routes into Zentrix. Each one can be bottled up by small armies. Zentrix also has competent armies and generals. Barring disasters, they’ll hold.

“That is what gives us a chance, Dana. Maintaining three offensives requires huge numbers of men, leaving much of the country’s interior lightly defended. If we can find and destroy critical weak points such as supply depots, armories and bridges, we can slow or even paralyze the war effort. But we need to work fast. The late and unlamented necromancer Cimmox claimed the king and queen are flooding the kingdom with new followers, each one equal to him in depravity. Once they arrive in force, the war will be almost impossible to stop.”

“What are we going for first?”

Jayden paused. “I don’t know. Before defeating Cimmox, the heavy snowfall trapped us in a small village for two months. Much could have happened during that time I don’t know about. Even before that, we were focused for months on dealing with local threats. I don’t know what has been happening elsewhere in the kingdom. I need information before we can act.”

Dana reached into her backpack and pulled out a wanted poster with Jayden’s face on it. These posters were plastered across every village with more than a hundred residents, and the reward grew by the month. “Finding people you can talk to might be hard with this price on your head. It might be hard for me, too. These posters started mentioning me months ago, even if the descriptions are vague. Who can we talk to when we’re both wanted criminals?”

Jayden smiled, a rare and welcome sign. “Why Dana, I thought the answer to that would be obvious. Other wanted criminals.”

Dana stopped walking. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“If it’s any comfort, I won’t either. Years ago, I visited a small outlaw community called Weirdwood in the wilderness near the border with Zentrix. It is an indescribably foul place filled with the worst examples of humanity you could have the poor luck to meet. Such communities are sadly common in isolated places, sprouting like mushrooms after a rainstorm, only to be destroyed by the authorities or infighting until new ones arise. This one has stood for fifteen years and is considered almost stable.”

“If it’s full of criminals, they won’t have information you can use. They’d be chased out of nice parts of the kingdom.”

He looked at her curiously before saying, “I keep forgetting your peaceful upbringing. Dana, it’s a sad fact of life that the criminal element is welcome in society if it stays in the shadows. Smugglers, gamblers, thieves and poachers can find unscrupulous men eager for their wares. Communities like Weirdwood are frowned upon, but ignored so long as they are useful rather than damaging. The men I need to talk to will have traveled far and wide, tolerated if not welcomed.”

“You trust wanted criminals to be honest?” she asked skeptically.

“Honor among thieves is a rarity, but I have certain advantages in securing their cooperation. I have funds enough to buy their services, and such men appreciate hard currency. I also have enough power to inflict horrific retribution should they betray me, a point I made very clear on my last visit to Weirdwood.”

Dana put a hand over here face. “How much damage did you do?”

“It was severe but localized.”

As day transitioned into night, they passed scattered farmhouses on their way to Weirdwood, all of them built to resist attacks with brick walls, tile roofs and arrow slits. Men traveled armed and in groups, and they gave Dana and Jayden wary looks as they passed. Jayden nodded to a few of them and continued without incident.

“They don’t look happy to see us,” Dana said.

“Most of Weirdwood’s residents have the good sense to limit their crimes to distant lands, but there are always a few drunken idiots eager to cause trouble. Honest men living near Weirdwood are always ready for trouble.”

“Why don’t they tell the king and queen where to find this dump and let the army burn it down?”

“The king and queen don’t care about small farms like these any more than they did your friends and relatives back home when you first called upon my aid. If a few dozen or hundred people live in fear, or don’t live at all, it’s nothing to the crown compared to cities with hundreds of thousands of people.”

“You said this place has been around for fifteen years,” she pressed. “That’s a long time to ignore a problem.”

“They’ve ignored problems far greater for far longer.” He hesitated before saying, “It makes me wonder if a member of the royal court is protecting this pigsty. A rich man could make himself even richer here, if he was careful and heavily armed.”

Jayden pointed at lights in the distance. “That’s our destination. There are no friends where we’re going, Dana. We must take precautions before going further.”

Dana saw him take cloth wrappings from his bags. “Wait a minute.”

“This won’t take long.” Jayden covered her face with a cloth mask with narrow eyeholes. He handed her gloves that reached up to her elbows and leggings to cover what little skin her skirt and boots didn’t hide. “I am known and feared in Weirdwood. You, being an attractive young woman, will be seen as prey. You run a lower risk of being bothered if you look mysterious. You also don’t risk someone describing your features to the authorities.”

“Lots of soldiers have seen me with you,” Dana said as she pulled on the gloves.

“If you check your no doubt excellent memory, you’ll recall those meetings were almost exclusively at night where visibility was poor. The only exception that comes to mind was our attack on baron Scalamonger’s estate with Lootmore. In that instance, enemy forces had been drinking heavily before they saw you. I doubt they could describe your features after the hangovers they must have suffered. For your own safety and that of your family, please put these garments on.”

Dana finished putting on the clothes and checked her reflection in a nearby pool. She did look more intimidating. “I’m just glad you’re not trying to leave me behind. Sometimes you get too protective.”

“No place this close to Weirdwood is safe, and we won’t be safe inside the town. No matter what, eat nothing, drink nothing and stay close to me. If anyone looks dangerous, they are. Avoid speaking if you can help it.”

“Are we torching this place on the way out?”

“Don’t tempt me. I was weaker the last time I visited this cesspit, with fewer spells mastered. My progress has been considerable, but not enough to destroy a town.”

They approached Weirdwood slowly, keeping an eye out for danger. When they finally saw the town, it met Dana’s low expectations. The community was a collection of ramshackle buildings made of cheap lumber and scrap wood. None of the shops had signs advertising their services, nor were there street signs. Light from open doors illuminated much of the street to reveal a cast of miserable characters. Most were humans, although Dana saw an elf and some dwarfs. Like many places they’d visited, Weirdwood stunk of wood smoke, dung, livestock and body odor.

Then there was the noise. Dana heard shouting and laughing, more than she would have expected for a town this size. Animals brayed, neighed or in some cases growled. Music came from what she thought was an inn, but she didn’t recognize the tune or even the instruments.

A woman in a store called out, “What’s your pleasure? Stay awake, put you to sleep, open your eyes to other realms. I’ve got brews for whatever your fancy is.”

“Pass,” Jayden replied. The woman cursed at him before offering her vile concoctions to another man.

A man pointed at Dana and asked Jayden, “You selling or renting?”

Jayden cast a spell, and moments later a giant black hand with claws scooped up the man and hurled him onto a nearby rooftop. The hand dissolved back into the shadows, and after that no one on the street bothered them.

Jayden led her through the streets without hesitation. Their passing drew considerable attention, but no one tried to bar their way. They reached a dingy bar and went inside to find a collection of the dirtiest, loudest and most heavily armed people Dana had ever met gathered around a bar and cooking fire.

One of the men banged a ladle against an iron pot over a fire. “Boys, it’s our old friend, Jayden! It’s been years. What’s brought you back to Weirdwood? Still fencing stolen horses?”

Jayden strode fearlessly into the room. “Not this time, Clevner. I’m buying rather than selling.”

Clevner was a tall man, rail thin and filthy. His leather clothes looked like they should have been burned rather than washed, and his collection of knives and daggers were tarnished and rusty. He gave Jayden a lopsided grin and gestured for the other men in the room to make space.

“Now that depends on what you’re buying. We’re light on stock at the moment, which is why I was happy to see you.”

“I seek words rather than goods,” Jayden said. “I’ve been busy for the last few months and need up to date information on my favorite targets. You travel more than most and may have seen the opportunities I seek.”

A young man stepped away from the bar and pointed at Dana. “Hey, the sorcerer brought a pet. Ooh, all covered up like that, the pretty thing must be shy.”

“She’s none of your business,” Jayden said firmly.

The youth swaggered closer. “I’ll decide what’s my business or not.”

Jayden stepped up until he was within inches of the youth’s face. “You must be new to Weirdwood, or unbelievably stupid. Adults are talking, boy. Find someone else to amuse yourself with before I remove pieces of your anatomy.”

Clevner cleared his throat. “You’re right, he’s new to my little family. Go back to your drink, boy. I’d rather not clean your blood off the floor.”

The idiot looked at Clevner without fear, proof either of drunkenness or overconfidence. “He’s a tough one?”

“Last time Jayden paid Weirdwood a visit, a few blokes thought they could take horses he’d brought without paying for them. I buried them and bought the horses, for a fair price, I might add.”

Jayden turned his attention back to Clevner. “Armies are moving, threats and opportunities in equal measure to the man bold enough to act. I need to know where they are, how powerful they are, and if they’re leaving assets exposed. Words for gold, Clevner. You won’t get a better deal.”

“That might not the case.” Clevner casually took a sheet of paper from behind the bar and held it up. “See, we had a visitor just after the snow melted, and by we, I mean everyone in town. Tall fellow, fancy clothes, very nice diction. He made an offer on behalf of the king and queen. Anyone who swears loyalty and obeys orders gets a blanket amnesty for all past crimes. As of four weeks ago we became fine, upstanding citizens.”

“You must be joking,” Jayden said.

Clevner offered him the paper. “See for yourself.”

Jayden snatched it and read quickly. “What did you have to do to earn this amnesty?”

“Exactly what we were doing all along. Poachers hunt animals and rare monsters to sell the carcasses, smugglers bring in stolen goods, and slavers deal in human flesh. The only difference is, these days the king and queen pay us for our labors.”

Jayden’s face betrayed his disgust. “There weren’t slavers here on my last visit.”

“Weirdwood has been diversifying as of late, with new opportunities for the openminded. It’s not to my tastes, but I’m not in a position to throw stones. Back to our original topic. It’s too early to see if this will last, but for the time being we’re working for the throne, and the king and queen may not take kindly to us telling their secrets to an enemy, if that’s what you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

“This part is a tad delicate, so curb your aggressive tendencies,” Clevner cautioned. “That same visitor who gave us this second chance thought you might drop by, your reputation being what it is, and he told us to pass along a message if we saw you.”

Jayden’s muscles tensed, and Dana grabbed the hilt of her sword. Clevner waved his hands downward and said, “Aggressive tendencies, Jayden. It’s an opportunity, not a threat. The king and queen are offering the same olive branch to you.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” he yelled. “I’ve harried the king and queen for my entire adult life! In the last year I’ve destroyed two noblemen’s estates, stolen a fortune in armor and killed their iron golem, Wall Wolf.”

Jayden’s outburst didn’t bother Clevner in the slightest. “Which is why they want you. You’re right, Jayden, it’s war, and wizards are a prized commodity in any army. The thinking goes anyone who kills an iron golem is a man you want on your side. If they hire you, that’s one less threat and one more asset. We both know changing sides isn’t rare for a man with skills in demand.”

Clevner took a cup off the bar and sipped it. “I and my merry band are temporarily useful to the king and queen, but if they win their war, they won’t need us any longer. Maybe their offer goes away when they can get respectable men to do the work. If they lose, nobody’s going to honor the deal. But you, well, sorcerer lords are a tad rare at the moment, so whoever wins is going to want you.

“There’s more. Your wanted posters were undated. The cash offer is off the table. Instead the king and queen are offering a dukedom to anyone who brings you in, dead or alive. Seems a certain Duke Wiskver managed to upset the royal couple so badly they ordered his execution. He ran off a few minutes ahead of the sheriffs. I’m told his land is a bit of a mess and his followers fled. Still, it’s not every day a fellow can jump to nobility. Plenty of strong lads will take the chance.”

Jayden handed back the paper. “I’ve no interest in changing sides, now or ever. My goal remains the same, and I think you are bold enough to play both sides, especially when you admit your amnesty might not be honored. Allow me to make you richer in case the day comes when you need to leave with whatever you can carry.”

Clevner paused before nodding. “I’ve heard and seen a few things that might interest you, and there are men in Weirdwood who might know more. First thing’s first, we need to agree to a price before I say word one.”

Just then one of Clevner’s followers walked past Dana and ran his hand up her leg. She shrieked, and the men burst out laughing. Jayden raised his hands to cast a spell, no doubt flashy and massively destructive that would ruin any chance for a deal.

Moving fast, Dana kicked the man in the butt, knocking him over. The laugher doubled, and the man scowled as he tried to get up. Before he could rise, she drew her sword and swung it at the pot hanging over the fire. Chain Cutter spit out a cloud of sparks as it hacked through the iron pot top to bottom, spilling its contents on the fire and extinguishing it as both pieces of the pot landed with a bang.

The laughter stopped.

“Keep your hands to yourself, or she’ll take them off,” Jayden said.

“Outside, now,” Clevner ordered the man on the floor. When he tried to protest, Clevner said, “You’re ten seconds from getting killed, by the girl if you’re lucky and by the sorcerer if you’re not. I don’t much care if you die, but once Jayden starts killing men, he might not be in a mood to stop. Go.”

The man left, his face red and his fists clenched. Clevner turned his attention back to Jayden. “I need time to get the secrets you want. Come back tomorrow night with a hundred gold coins, no less. Don’t argue over the money. You’ll make it back ten times over with what I have to say.”

“Fair enough,” Jayden said. “My associate won’t be joining me, as you seem to have trouble controlling your followers.”

The insult didn’t seem to bother Clevner. “I think that’s for the best.”

Jayden and Dana left the bar without another word. A drunken man saw them and laughed, saying, “Thrown out that fast? Guess he didn’t offer enough for the girl.”

Jayden didn’t break stride as he punched the drunk in the gut and doubled him over. He grabbed the fool by the collar and swung him head first into the bar’s front wall, and followed up by stomping on the man after he hit the ground. Bystanders watched with casual interest before moving on. Jayden continued as if nothing had happened, stopping only once they were far outside Weirdwood.

“That was really disturbing,” Dana said as she took off her disguise.

“It was, and I apologize. Weirdwood has degenerated even faster than the rest of the kingdom, and it was no pleasure to begin with. If this sort of depravity is acceptable even in a small corner of the kingdom, how soon until it spreads?”

“It might not. If Clevner is right, he and his friends might get thrown out with the trash when they’re not needed anymore.”

“They can do incredible amounts of harm before being cast aside.” Jayden scowled and looked back at the disgusting town. “In years past I was never happy dealing with such revolting people. I rationalized it as a necessary evil. Today I see that choice for the mistake it is, for if it was acceptable for me to deal with such men, it is no less so for the king and queen.”

“Can we get this information anywhere else?” Dana asked.

“Not in time. The peace and quiet we now enjoy won’t last. Armies will march soon, and if we are to do anything to stop that we have to know what to hit and where. We also need allies for the coming battles, and while the men of Weirdwood don’t qualify, they might be able to point out others who do. I don’t trust them, but I need them.”

They spent the night camped far away from Weirdwood in case its unsavory residents were tempted to collect the price on Jayden’s head. They spent the following day practicing with wooden swords. Dana wasn’t Jayden’s equal, but she was getting to the point where she could hold her own.

As the day wore on Jayden noticed more men coming into and out of Weirdwood. He frowned and said, “I need to find a safe place for you while I’m gone. Given how far the town’s residents travel, it would be better for you to be farther away. There is a village deeper in the mountains and the road leading there is difficult, so Weirdwood’s loathsome residents should avoid it.”

Jayden led her to a small walled village perched next to a river. The river flowed slowly through the mountainous terrain and frequently branched off along narrow channels. People had set nets across the water to snare fish and watched them warily, but thankfully didn’t panic at the appearance of strangers.

“It’s rustic, but safe,” Jayden said. “Weirdwood’s noxious residents avoid this place ever since some of their men came here and never returned. Whatever is responsible ignores less revolting people, and I feel certain no one will bother you.”

Before he left, she said, “Promise me you’re not doing this to keep me safe while you run off and fight those jerks alone.”

Jayden smiled. “I respect your abilities and judgement too much to go without your help. I will return as soon as I have finished dealing with Clevner. From there our journey will be more dangerous. Rest, and enjoy what little these people have to offer.”

Dana felt nervous as she watched Jayden leave. Not because she feared for herself. She was worried for him. Weirdwood was easily the foulest town she’d ever set foot in. Jayden was worthy of respect from friends and fear from enemies, but those villains might think surprise and superior numbers could win the day. She was tempted to follow him.

In the end she didn’t. There would be too big a risk that she’d draw attention from evil men, ruining Jayden’s chances to finish this deal, and possibly forcing him to rescue her. She was honest enough to admit she wasn’t ready to fight her way into or out of a town like that, especially since she didn’t know what dangers lurked there. They could have tamed monsters, golems, witches, wizards or any number of other threats.

A woman walked by, and Dana said, “Hello there.”

The woman mumbled a response and kept her head down. Dana tried talking to another woman and got the same reaction. Villagers went about their business as if she wasn’t there, shying away when she approached. She couldn’t figure out why they were so scared of her, but maybe they were used to strangers being dangerous. After all, they weren’t far from Weirdwood.

Dana had been just like these people only a year ago. The small town she’d grown up in was quiet and did its best to avoid attention from royalty and monsters (both being dangerous). She would’ve been wary at the approach of a stranger, not hostile, but cautious in case the person was dangerous.

Their apprehension would make finding a place to stay difficult. These people wouldn’t want to open their home up to a stranger, even a paying one. There didn’t seem to be an inn, either, but that wasn’t surprising for such a small community. Few travelers would come this way, and many would be the kind of men they wouldn’t want around. It looked like she’d be roughing it tonight.

Dana searched the area for good camping sites. Options were limited. Much of the land was too rocky, and every inch of flat ground was planted with grains or vegetables. She ended up going far down the nearest trail before finding a patch of tall pine trees she could make camp under. Fallen needles offered bedding of a sort, while the trees would provide cover.

She’d just begun to lay out a blanket to sleep on when she saw a woman of about twenty creep down the trail. The woman was pretty but simply dressed. Curious, Dana watched the woman go to a small branch of the river and set a straw mat onto the water. With this strange task done, the woman went back toward the village, never seeing Dana hiding among the pine trees.

This was odd enough to worry Dana. Once she was sure the woman was gone, she went to the river and found the mat slowly flowing downstream. The mat was thick enough it could float even with a loaf of bread, two apples and a smoked fish sitting on top of it.

“Who’s that for?” Dana asked out loud.

The current carried the mat away, and Dana followed it. The branch of the river was wide but not very deep, and it flowed between large boulders before going into a cave. The mat leisurely floated into the cave and out of view.

“This doesn’t make sense,” she said. “That’s not the kind of food you would give to an animal or a monster. That means there’s a person in there the lady is providing for. Why doesn’t he stay in the village?”

Dana peered into the cave. Was someone trapped down there? That didn’t make sense, either. If someone was stuck inside, the woman would get her friends and family to rescue them. Maybe the stranger was hiding in the cave and the woman had merely agreed to provide meals. That didn’t make even less sense. If someone was so scared they’d hide in a cave, it would be smarter to run to a safer place, and there had to be safer places to hide than a village near Weirdwood.

“Laura?” a man’s voice called out from the cave.

“Um, no, sorry, I’m not Laura,” Dana said.

“That is a relief and a pity,” the man answered. Dana heard him eating the crunchy apples.

“Why are you in there?”

“That’s not a story I am eager to repeat. Young lady, I am told there is a village not far from here. Tell the people Brasten sent you, and they will open their doors that you may spend the night in safety.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Dana said. “Wait a minute, you were told there’s a village nearby? It’s so close I can see the light from their cooking fires. How could you not know where it is?”

“I came here before there was a village, and have never left.”

The statement was mysterious, but it was also unbearably sad. “Can you leave?”

“No.”

“The girl who floated the food to you, she’s Laura? She’s trying to be nice, but she can’t save you.”

“She has a beautiful soul and seeks to ease my confinement. I could survive without the meals she sends me, and without her company when she can spare the time, but it makes my stay more bearable. To hear tales of the world beyond is a pleasure and makes me feel like I am still a part of it, if only in a small way.”

Dana went through her baggage and brought out a torch. She lit it and held it in front of her as she stepped into the water. “I’m coming in.”

“I can’t guarantee your safety,” the man cautioned. “There is danger within this cave.”

“Then you need help,” she said as she waded through the cold water. It came up to her knees, but flowed so slowly she was in no danger of being washed away.

“Laura would like you.”

Dana only had to wade a short distance before coming onto a ledge. She found the straw mat in the water. Standing on the ledge was the man.

This man…oh my. He was the sort of that drew women’s attention, tall and lean with sculpted muscles. She guessed his age at twenty-five at the most, with dark hair and brooding eyes. His clothes were simple cotton, a tunic with short sleeves, pants that stopped just below his knees, and a sword strapped to his leather belt.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said formally. “I am Brasten the Unbeaten. Please forgive the lack of accommodations. I’m afraid the few creature comforts I could offer rotted away long ago.”

“Hi.” Dana was having trouble forming words at the moment. She held out her hand, and Brasten shook it with a firm grip. “I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t see what’s keeping you here.”

“It’s a long story and a sad one, but you have gone to some effort to meet me, so I feel I should reciprocate in some way. I fear my tale offers little hope. Come, and I will show you why I stay.”

This is the conclusion of the Dana Illwind and Sorcerer Lord Jayden story Rescue.
* * * * *
Brasten led Dana through the cave to a large chamber, easily a hundred feet across. At some point most of the cave’s ceiling had collapsed to reveal the sky far overhead. There was dirt on the ground and grass grew to knee high. Dana saw the moon and stars shining above as bats left the cave.

“You can see in the dark?” she asked. “I mean, I have a torch, but you were in the dark before I came.”

“I have lived here long enough to know every inch of this cave,” he replied. “Dark or light matters little. Girl, you came here to save me, a noble goal, and proof of the goodness in your heart. I am pleased I should meet someone so pure they would save a stranger’s life. It pains me to say what you seek is impossible.”

Dana folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve seen lots of impossible things. You tell me what the problem is and I’ll help you find a way out of it. If I can’t help, I know a man who might be able to break you out.”

“Your optimism is refreshing. Forgive me, but the years have left me jaded. Girl—”

“Dana.”

Brasten bowed. “Forgive me, Dana. There is a chest at the opposite end of this cave. Do not approach it, for it is guarded by an implacable defender.”

Dana saw the chest, a beauty two feet long, one foot wide, a foot tall, and made of sea green bronze and obsidian carved in intricate patterns. She didn’t see the defender he’d warned her of. The room was empty besides her, Brasten and the chest.

“Where is it?” she asked.

“Not it, but whom. I have the displeasure and dishonor of defending the chest, a role I have played to my eternal shame for three hundred years.”

“Wait, what?” Dana staggered back. “You can’t be, I, no, I have a brother your age!”

Brasten tilted his head to one side. “My appearance is deceptive. I was born three hundred years ago, give or take a few decades. Forgive me for not providing an exact date, but after a certain point the years flowed together.”

Dana frowned. “This is weird, but I can deal with it. Brasten, sit down and we’ll talk.”

“I would like that.”

Both of them sat down on the grassy cave floor. Brasten piled up old straw mats and gestured for Dana to ignite them with her torch to provide both light and heat. Dana pointed at him and said, “You can’t have lived this long naturally, so there’s magic involved. Who did this to you?”

“Three hundred years ago, a small group of men and women uncovered spell tablets of the ancient sorcerer lords. They translated them to learn that long forgotten school of magic. My master was a lesser nobleman and one such new sorcerer lord. He and his fellow practitioners sought to form a kingdom of sorcerers as in the days of old.”

“I’ve never heard this before.”

“It did not last long or end well. My master gathered together many students and trained them in magic, so many the king grew concerned. He need not have been. Rival sorcerer lords grew paranoid. They worried he would forge his students into an obedient army to conquer them.”

Puzzled, she asked, “Why would they do that?”

Brasten shrugged. “I don’t know. My master argued incessantly that he was spreading their message and magic so they could one day overthrow the king, nothing more. It didn’t help. The stronger he and his students grew, the greater others feared him. One day they gathered together and waged war upon him. Sorcerer lord fought sorcerer lord, a tragic repetition of ancient history. Few survived.”

“Are you a sorcerer lord?”

He smiled. “No. I was a farm boy with a strong back and a weak mind. My master owned the land I farmed, and by law he ruled me. He wanted to teach me his magic, but I could never fathom the strange words and bizarre meanings behind them. He abandoned the effort when his fellow sorcerers turned on him. If I could not serve him as a sorcerer, I could serve him as a soldier. I excelled as a swordsman, becoming my master’s best and most favored warrior. He gave me the magic sword you see at my side.”

Brasten looked sad as he continued. “Warriors serving rival sorcerer lords grew to respect me, then fear me, then run from me. It shames me to say I once took pleasure in seeing the terror in their eyes. Please do not judge me harshly, for I was young and foolish, and I listened to wicked men rather than good ones.”

“Why is a feared swordsman trapped in a cave?” Dana winced and said, “Sorry, that was rude.”

“I take no offense. Many have asked the same question. My master held off his enemies for years until they rallied together with aid from the king to defeat him. His estate was razed to the ground, his spell library looted or destroyed, his wealth carried off. He and I escaped only with the chest you see before you. My master cast a spell called Eternal Guardian on me. He ordered me to stay here until his return, to not touch the chest, and to slay any who did with my sword Oath Breaker.” Brasten nodded to the sword sheathed on his belt. “I’ve carried out these orders for centuries, victim of my master’s magic.”

“The spell is keeping you young?”

“Just so. I thought it was an honor at first. My master had lost all his followers save me, and in reward for my loyalty he’d made me ageless. I could still die in combat, but the years did not touch me. Nor did I hunger or thirst, although I can eat and drink. I can’t sleep or even grow tired.”

Brasten stared into the fire. “He left, never to return. Perhaps he meant to and died before he could, but his spell ensured my imprisonment when he did not, a risk he was willing to take. I once gloried in battle, taking so many lives I can’t count them. I thought myself an honored servant, and that this sword was proof of the faith he had in me. Now I see the truth, that I was a vain fool in the service of a greater fool. This sword was his way to make me a more efficient killer, nothing more. I have come to despise it. I was his property, to be used or expended as he saw fit. Being ageless made my imprisonment an even greater burden, but in truth it is a fair punishment for my actions.

“My master would overthrow the king, and a new leader would replace the old one, but nothing would change. Men like myself would still be ruled by others, serving their masters onto death before being replaced with more expendable men. My master and his rivals mistook intelligence for virtue, and in their arrogance destroyed one another until the king could defeat the few who survived.”

Dana hesitated before asking, “Do you think sorcerer lord magic makes people turn on one another? I mean, they fought each other long ago, and the same thing happened again to your master.”

Brasten chuckled. “No, child, magic does not make a man good or bad. Before my imprisonment, I met noblemen, rich merchants, judges and sheriffs equaling if nor surpassing my master in their arrogance. Power corrupts men regardless of its source. Too many hunger for it, striving to be better than their peers rather than helping them. In my experience, it is a rare man who can turn down power or willingly give it up. Such men are to be cherished and protected, for their lives are often cut short by the ambitious.”

Tears formed around Dana’s eyes. “That’s terrible. You’ve been alone down here for so long.”

“Not entirely alone,” Brasten replied. “On rare occasions I have visitors such as yourself. I once spent weeks talking to a sage from a distant land who wanted to know more about sorcerer lords. Later still a monk spent decades meditating with me. I credit his help to my becoming a better person.”

“And there’s Laura.”

Brasten paused. “There is Laura. She entered my cave ten years ago, fleeing criminals from a town called Weirdwood. I protected the poor child from them.”

Hesitantly, Dana asked, “When you say protected…”

Brasten pointed to three mounds of earth and rocks at the edge of the cave. “I take no pride in the title Unbeaten I held so long ago, but it is accurate. I thought that was the end of the matter once the child left, but she returned time and again. Sometimes she would speak to me, other times like tonight delivering meals. She grew with time while I remained the same. Now a woman, she has twice expressed an interest in me.”

“Interest?” Dana asked. She saw Brasten blush and hastily said, “Oh, that kind of interest. I take it you said no.”

“What other answer could I give? I could not provide for her or any children we had together, nor could I protect them from harm if they were attacked away from this cave. She is a good woman, beautiful in body and spirit, and deserves better than what little I can offer. I had hoped she would marry another, but she continues to come to me. She reminds me of the fiancée I had so long ago.”

Dana perked up. “You were going to be married?”

“My master had selected a young woman to be my bride. She was a beauty like no other. She was also the worst cook I’ve ever met, and nearly killed me with food poisoning. Bad yams nearly did what a hundred enemies could not.”

“What happened to her?”

“She fled when my master’s enemies came for him. I take no offense at her choice, for it saved her life.”

Dana stood up and helped Brasten to his feet. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“Others have tried and failed, some at the cost of their lives. The Eternal Guardian spell forces me to defend the chest yet will not let me touch it, which includes moving it out of the cave. If any attempt to touch or move it I instantly kill them. I am compelled by the spell and have no choice in the matter. If you touch the chest, even accidentally, I would kill you before I even knew what I was doing.”

“Then I’ll have to be careful.” Dana approached the chest like it was a bear trap. “What happens if the chest is destroyed?”

“The chest is reinforced with powerful magic to both strengthen it and make it hard to detect. Any attempt to destroy it would likely fail, and would count as touching it, forcing me to attack whoever tried.”

Dana circled the chest. “What if someone threw a rope around it and pulled it out. Technically they’re not touching it.”

“The spell does not care for technicalities. I would strike the rope and then the person pulling it, as a certain thief found out to his sorrow. Normally I regret my acts of violence, but he was a revolting man.”

“What if an animal touches the chest?”

“A number of birds have done so over the years. They were quite tasty.”

Dana tapped her fingers against her backpack. “What would happen if someone touched the chest but you couldn’t see them? I mean, it’s got to be pretty dark in here, and you said you can’t see in the dark.”

“That has happened twice in my time here. In both cases I could sense the chest being touched even when I could not see it. The Eternal Guardian spell drew me to the chest, and I ended the lives of the rats that were crawling on it. I have no idea how I knew they were there, but I did.”

“If I threw something on the chest, what would you do?”

Brasten looked uneasy. “If it was an inanimate object such as a rock, I would treat it as you touching the chest and attack. If, however, you placed a living animal on the chest, I would be forced to attack the animal instead. That happened once when a witch tried to steal the chest. She threw her cat at me, and it landed instead on the chest. The spell forced my hand.”

“That poor kitty!”

“It was one of many deeds I’m not proud of.”

Brasten certainly looked competent, but Dana had fought skilled warriors before. How dangerous was he? She retreated to the grassy area in the cave and went through it until she found a worm. She carried it back and tossed it onto the chest.

She didn’t see Brasten draw his sword or him charge. One second he was behind her, and the next he was in front of her, his sword making a glittering arc before he returned it to his sheath. The worm was cut in half lengthwise.

“You see the reason for my concern,” Brasten said. “Should you even let your dress brush up against the chest, I would kill you no matter how much I don’t want to. Nothing could save you.”

Dana looked at the dead worm. That could just as easily have been her. Jayden’s training had helped her be a better fighter, but nothing she knew could stop someone that fast or skilled. She wondered if Jayden knew a way to break this spell. But would Brasten let him? The poor man had good reasons not to trust sorcerer lords and might attack Jayden. Introducing these two would be a mistake one or both might not survive.

“That was impressive, and massive overkill for a worm,” she told him. “Why didn’t you just squish it with your finger, or pick it up and throw it away?”

“If I only could be so merciful,” Brasten said sadly. “The Eternal Guardian spell forces me to draw my sword. I can’t do otherwise, even when another choice would be superior.”

“What were your master’s exact orders?” she asked.

“Brasten, last of my followers, I give you this duty to carry out above all others. This chest contains my last treasures from which I might rebuild my holdings. Stay in this cave and do not touch the chest, and if anyone ese dares to so much as touch it, strike them dead at once with your mighty sword Oath Breaker.” Brasten spoke the words with obvious distain. “Those were his orders before he left, and that is what I have had to do for centuries.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Dana dug up several worms and brought them to within four feet of the chest. She handed her torch, now burning out, to Brasten. “There’s got to be ways around those orders. I’m going to throw another worm at the chest.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Trust me. You said your sword was magic. I wonder if it’s part of the curse you’re under. I want you to kill it with the torch instead of your sword. Can you do that?”

“I will make the attempt.”

Dana threw the worm, and it landed on top of the chest. She felt a breeze as Brasten charged past her and sliced the worm into four equal parts. He sheathed his sword and handed back the torch. “My apologies, but the moment it touched the chest I was overcome with the need to defend it. I could not resist the urge to draw my sword.”

“You apologize a lot.”

Brasten bowed his head. “I have done much worthy of regret. Forgive my saying so, but you seem surprisingly at ease meeting a man centuries old.”

“This isn’t the weirdest thing that’s happened to me.” Dana frowned as she considered this riddle. Brasten’s orders insisted he use his sword to defend the chest. What would happen if he didn’t? “Have you ever attacked a person or animal that touched the chest with your fists, a rock, anything except your sword?”

“Never.”

Dana pointed at his sword. “Can I look at it?”

Brasten handed over his weapon without a moment’s hesitation. That surprised Dana. Then again, he’d said he’d come to hate it. She took the sword from its sheath and studied it. The blade was longer than hers and had words stamped into it that resembled the letters from Jayden’s spell tables. It was razor sharp and as light as a feather, and the blade glimmered when she swung it, leaving a short-lived trail of stars behind.

Dana handed Brasten the torch back, and without another word threw another worm at the chest. He had the sword out of her hands so fast she barely saw him move, and the worm met the same end as the other two. He handed the blade back to her along with the torch.

“If it helps, I’ve tried doing that before,” he said. “For years I left the sword far away from me, but I always come back for it when the chest is touched.”

“There’s got to be a way out of this,” Dana said as she handed back the sword. No point to holding it when he could get it back so easily. “What if I took it out of the cave where you can’t reach it?”

“A man tried that eighty years ago. He went fifty feet before the curse compelled me to retrieve the sword. Fortunately, he had spells in place to protect him long enough to escape.”

This was a tough riddle, and one that kept a good man enslaved to the will of a long dead master. She had to help him, but how? There had to be a loophole in his orders. She was sure Brasten’s sword was the key. He had to use it, no choice, so removing it might cancel the Eternal Guardian spell. But how? She couldn’t take it from him when he could reclaim it so easily. He couldn’t throw it away. Maybe she could destroy it with Chain Cutter, but the spell might force him to defend himself if she tried, and she had no illusions how that fight would end. What did that leave?

Wait.

“You hate your sword, right?”

“With a passion.”

Dana set aside the torch, now completely burned out. “I want to make an offer. I’ll buy your sword for a gold coin.”

Brasten raised an eyebrow. “Buy it?”

“Buy it.” Dana went through her pockets until she came up with a single gold coin. “I’m asking you to sell me your sword, not give it to me or just hand it to me. I’m not stealing it, either. You get a gold coin and I get your sword for keeps. Deal?”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.”

“Work with me, Brasten. Am I buying your sword or not?”

“Very well, in return for a single gold coin I will sell you my sword.” He removed the blade, sheath and all, and handed it to her.

Dana handed him the coin. “No take backs. The fire’s getting low. Can you throw a few more straw mats on it?”

Brasten did as she asked, turning his back to do so. That was very trusting of him. An unscrupulous person might try to hit him from behind, which would fail. Dana had seen his speed and skill firsthand. She doubted a person could kill Brasten even when he was unarmed.

While he was looking away, Dana threw the rest of the worms she had onto the chest.

“Is that bright enough for you?” he asked.

“One more, please.”

“Done, but it is the last of them.” Brasten threw another straw mat onto the flame and turned around. “Why are you smiling?”

Dana waved for him to join her. “Look.”

Brasten walked back to her, and he gasped when he saw the worms wriggling on top of the chest. “That’s not possible. It can’t be!”

“One way to make sure,” Dana said. He pointed at the cave’s entrance and asked, “Would you like to go outside?”

Brasten ran off, laughing like a man who’d escaped the gallows. Dana heard him splash through the shallow water and then cry out in exaltation. Dana followed him and found him dancing across the trail leading to the cave.

“Free! Centuries of endless waiting, over! What joy it is to feel the wind on my skin, to breath fresh air, to see more than those cursed walls!” Brasten ran to her, dropped to his knees and kissed her hand. “Good woman, kindest of souls, what magic did you use to free me?”

“No magic,” she told him. “Your master’s orders were if anyone touched the chest you had to kill them with your sword, Oath Breaker. The sword’s not yours anymore. You sold it to me. The curse didn’t force you to fight with your fists or any weapon, only the sword. Selling the sword makes it impossible to carry out your orders.”

He stared at her. “Glorious child, you saved me.”

Dana looked down. “It may have come at a cost. If we broke the Eternal Guardian spell by letting you go, you may have lost the benefits you got from it, like not aging.”

Brasten stood up again. “You are right. I feel tired, sleepy, a sensation lost long ago. If that gift is gone then I must assume the others are, too. I can grow old and die as all men do. Do not pity me for the loss, for I have not known joy in the centuries I have lived.”

He took her hands in his and said, “You have done what no other could, even when I tried to discourage you. Name your reward, even if it is my life. I have little, but it is at your command.”

“Your master thought in those terms. I want you to be free to choose your own path. The only thing I want is for you to consider one thing.”

He sounded curious when he asked, “What is that?”

“You’ve outlived your friends, family, even your enemies. You’re going to have to start from scratch with nothing except one gold coin, but I can give you more.”

“Don’t. You have given me enough.”

Dana smiled at him. “Consider where you can go from here. The whole world is open to you, but I know of a woman who cares a lot about you.”

“So there is.” Brasten turned to leave. “You have my eternal gratitude. Keep the chest if you wish. After being trapped with it for three hundred years, I have no desire to see it again or its contents, whatever they may be. I pray that the good fortune you brought me may be returned to you a thousand times over.”

Before he left, Brasten looked thoughtfully at the night sky. “I was a farmer once. I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but it was a good life. I wonder if I can be one again.”

Dana watched him leave, happy that she’d saved a man. For a second she wondered if Brasten would suddenly age three centuries now that the spell was broken, but he went on his way happy and healthy. The entire kingdom was still in a terrible mess, but one person’s life was immeasurably better. It was small wins like this that made life worth living. And she did it without any fighting. Most of her victories with Jayden were extremely violent.

Once Brasten was long gone, Dana went back into the cave and tried to pick up the chest. It was so heavy she could barely drag it across the floor. She eventually gave up trying to move it, opened the chest and took out the contents. There were pouches of gold, a silver necklace set with rubies, and two sorcerer lord spell tablets.

“Oh my.” Dana put on the necklace. “Jayden can have the spell tablets, but I’m keeping this.”

Dana returned to her camp under the pine trees, hid the necklace among her baggage and tried to go to sleep. She’d nearly nodded off when she saw a light. She got up and rubbed her eyes. There was a bright glow in the distance.

“Weirdwood is burning!” a man shouted in the nearby village.

More people ran out of their houses and pointed at the light. Many danced and cheered, and a woman cried out, “We’re finally free of those criminals!”

Dana put a hand over her face. “I just can’t leave you alone, Jayden.”

Jayden returned to the village hours later, looking tired and smelling of wood smoke. “Ah, Dana, I didn’t expect to see you still awake. Lovely night, isn’t it?”

“You torched the place, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“Oh, good, you accidentally burned a town of lowlifes and thugs.”

“A sadly accurate assessment of the situation,” he told her. Jayden sat down beside her and dusted ash off his shirt. “The evening started well enough. Clevner had the information he promised, but before he could say much a large number of cutthroats decided to take my head. Clevner escaped while I fought my way through them, which unfortunately attracted even more men after my life. I set a fire to cover my retreat. Do you recall a rather vulgar woman in Weirdwood offering dubious potions?”

“I remember wanting to slap her.”

“That’s her. It turned out her questionable brews were surprisingly combustible, and they detonated when the fire reached them, spreading the fire across several blocks. Weirdwood doesn’t, excuse me, didn’t have fire fighters, and the flames spread across the entire town.”

Jayden turned to her and said, “It was a partial win at best. I spent a lot of gold for a little information, but Weirdwood is gone. Its criminal occupants fled without time to gather their ill-gotten gains. With no base of operations, goods, even food, they are a spent force little able to aid the king and queen.”

“And here you thought you weren’t strong enough to destroy an entire town.”

“Normally it would be a questionable achievement, but it was necessary. I should have taken you with me. Your absence didn’t ease the transaction, and your presence would have done much to speed my exit. Worse, we’re going to have to spend days guarding these people in case Weirdwood’s now homeless citizens come to steal food or other goods.”

“I think they’ll be okay without us.” Brasten the Unbeaten no longer had his magic sword, but Dana figured the man would be incredibly dangerous with a pitchfork, hammer or even a shovel. “Don’t feel too bad. I had a pretty good night.”

“Really? How so?”

Just then a woman ran up to Dana and embraced her. Tears running down her face, she cried, “Thank you! Oh, thank you!”

“Jayden, this is Laura.”

Jayden looked amused. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m curious what prompted such an enthusiastic greeting.”

Laura pulled back and looked at Jayden. “Brasten told me about you, but he didn’t mention a man traveling with you when you saved him. Is this your husband?”

“Oh dear God no,” Dana said. Jayden laughed. Annoyed, Dana tossed the spell tablets onto his lap. His jaw dropped at the sight of them. “Those comes with a sword, too.”

I have written many stories with Dana and Jayden, without them ever meeting or even seeing the king and queen they oppose. I felt it would be helpful to have a series of short stories to introduce them.
* * * * *
The king and queen strolled down a castle hall escorted by eight soldiers. In most castles so many bodyguards would be excessive bordering on paranoid, but after five assassination attempts the king took no chances. Normally the king kept busy at such an early hour with the endless paperwork of his job, but today he and his queen had to be in the throne room after they were done with breakfast. The day promised to be busy, with four noblemen seeking an audience, an update from his army commanders by way of magic mirror, and representatives of the dwarf corporation Golem Works expected later in the day.

No couple could pose a bigger contrast. The king was a man in his early fifties, still strong and handsome to behold. His black hair showed hints of gray, and there were wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, but otherwise he looked younger than his years. His clothes were the finest furs and silks over magic chain armor, and he never traveled without three magic weapons.

His wife was his junior by twelve years and looked even younger than that. Her dress was the finest silk dyed golden yellow, her long hair expertly combed and styled, her jewelry the finest gold, and none of it was enough. Her face was etched in a permanent scowl, the look of the outraged who couldn’t strike at the source of their annoyance. It marred what should have been legendary beauty.

They turned a corner and passed the castle library. The king didn’t break his stride, but his eyes lingered on the door. He hadn’t entered the library in twenty years. When he needed a book, he had a servant bring it to him. The room reminded him of his long-departed son. There had been times when the boy would spend every waking hour there for weeks, learning of the ancient past, preparing for his tutor’s tests, or simple reading for the love of it. The king recalled having to send meals to the boy, and wondering if he should add a bed to the room. It was—

“You’re doing it again,” the queen said sourly.

The king didn’t look at her as he continued walking. “I am allowed to recall happier times.”

“Brooding over the past helps no one. Prince Mastram is dead and gone twenty years.”

“Twenty-one.”

The queen’s scowl deepened. “How long must you deify a boy unworthy of your attention even when he was alive, and totally beneath your attention now that he’s gone?”

The king was sorely tempted to grit his teeth, to return her scowl, anything to show his displeasure, but such a response would be the act of a lesser man. He’d had many conversations like this with his wife, to the point that it was almost expected, except she usually showed the good sense to entertain this foolishness when they were alone. He trusted his bodyguards, but even loyal men could talk after they’d had a difficult day or too much to drink. His wife should have the sense to understand that.

“I desire privacy,” he told them. His bodyguards fell back enough that they couldn’t hear the royal couple’s conversation but close enough to come in case of danger. He didn’t look at his wife when he said, “We are to have guests soon. Speak your piece now, for I won’t tolerate this in front of others.”

The queen took his arm. “This is madness. You want to be respected, yet anyone with working eyes can see you longing for a past both gone and dead. It’s time and energy wasted. How much longer must this farce continue?”

The king was a practical man who had mastered his emotions long ago. Loss and pain had seared away much of his feelings. That gave him the strength to not slap the queen. Instead he spoke words no less brutal.

“You knew how deeply I loved my first wife before we were wed. Only her death separated us. The marriage between you and I was political when it began and remains so today. Then as now, we need each other, nothing more. You have earned my respect, grudgingly, but nothing you have done has earned my love. I don’t expect that to change.”

He continued before she could reply. “Your family’s soldiers and fortune helped end the civil war, and I honored their demand to marry you. That was all our relationship was, a transaction. Any chance for it growing into something more meaningful ended long ago when your family made more demands, and more, and more beyond those. You spite me every chance you get and wonder why I am cold to you? You wonder why I fondly recall a wife who cared for me, her family making no demands?”

“They demanded nothing and offered nothing!” The queen took her hand away from him. “What chance did I ever have? Your true love keeps your heart, and in death can make no mistakes and have no flaws. I’ve spent half my life competing with a dead woman for a live man’s attention.”

“You are ever careful to omit your own many failings,” he noted. “How many have you destroyed when your temper flared? How many times did I have to rein in your vengeance? I’ve lost count of the court members, lesser nobles and even castle staff ruined for failing to avoid your ire. You wield your authority like an ogre swinging a club.”

“A queen is owed respect. You protest me defending my good name and position, but no one else will, present company included.”

“Lie to yourself if it pleases you, but not to me. I’ve seen the pleasure you take in inflicting punishment on others. You revel in their pain and humiliation. It is a flaw that makes more enemies with every passing year, forcing me to work harder to ensure obedience from my followers. I’d exclude you and your sharp tongue from more meetings, if only I could without your family protesting.”

The queen stopped walking and turned to face her husband. “If you have no care for me, have some for your children. You have sons still alive, both desperate to earn your favor, to prove themselves to you, yet you trust neither with high office or even let them attend court meetings. You haven’t even named one as crown prince! Bad enough I contend with the memories of a dead woman, must our sons compete against a boy you sent to his death?”

“An execution you and your family demanded as the price for their help in my hour of need. I did as I must, but never think I did so out of hatred for him or love for you. As for our offspring, one is a brute and the other a fool. I give them no positions of importance or trust them with secrets because they are incapable of handling either. Our sons have proven themselves Prince Mastram’s lesser at every opportunity. In Prince Mastram’s short life he did more that the pair of them have done in twice as long.”

“And were he alive today, Mastram—”

“Prince Mastram,” he corrected her. “I satisfied your clan’s bloody desires by denouncing him as illegitimate, but in the privacy between us I can call him my son and a prince.”

The queen rolled her eyes. “Prince Mastram lived in a world of books. He was small, weak, timid, hiding behind a scholar and a jester. He held to ideals no one could live by, much less rule by. That’s the son you lionize.”

The king nodded grudgingly. “He was a scholar at heart. In times of peace he would have ruled justly, but he lacked the courage and strength for war.”

“You started a war he’d never stomach.” The queen put her hands on her hips. “You’ve always prided yourself on being practical, doing what had to be done. Be practical now. You need an heir ready for your position when you die, or all you’ve done is for nothing. You have two sons, and given how cold our marriage has become there will never be another to pick from. One or the other, husband.”

The king allowed himself a slight smile. “Planning my funeral so soon?”

“No man is promised tomorrow,” she countered. “Death comes for all men, and only a fool doesn’t prepare for his own end.”

“Ture,” the king admitted. He’d long been taking powerful potions to slow his aging, and more to grant him resistance to exotic poisons used by assassins. That plus his skill in battle and loyal followers should put off the grave long enough to set the kingdom on a solid foundation, but life came with no guarantees.

What the queen never seemed to understand, or anyone else for that matter, was that the specter of death was what drove the king so hard. He had only so much time left, and so much to do to save a kingdom filled with enemies within and without. His lands were ever on the knife’s edge between prosperity and annihilation. Mercy, love, tolerance, those were the luxuries of the safe and secure. What were those ‘virtues’ compared to the lives of countless people? He did what he had to do for their survival as much as for his own.

The queen’s expression softened, and her tone was more compassionate than it had been in months. “Will our children never have your respect the way your dear prince did? Will you never give them your heart as a father should?”

“I give nothing. If they want my favor, have them earn it. On the training grounds, in their studies, in lesser court functions where I tolerate their presence, tell them to perform to expectations and I will reconsider my opinion of them. Make them prove we have not sired idiots. Whatever you do, don’t tell them their ascension to the throne is assured, for I will let a stranger not of my bloodline take my crown before I give it to one unworthy.”

The king continued to the throne room without giving his wife another glance. “We have delayed long enough. Come, my queen. Business demands our presence. You may deal with our sons after more important work is completed. For your sake I hope you succeed. The days ahead will be difficult enough without their continued buffoonery.”

Dana and Jayden waited patiently, surrounded by soldiers wearing the red and gold of Bascal’s army over their chain armor. The soldiers looked confused and didn’t point their swords or spears at Jayden. One man stared at Jayden, who smiled at him until the man looked away.

They’d spent the last two hours on this warm, sunny summer day outside a small fort built in the wooded mountainous border between Meadowland and Bascal. The narrow trail they’d taken was flanked by high rough rocks, too difficult to climb for any but a mountain goat. This fort and the barricade across the trail blocked all passage. The hundred soldiers manning it looked capable and well-armed, and thoroughly befuddled.

“Is this going to take much longer?” Jayden asked.

“Not too long, sir,” an archer replied.

“Should we get them something?” a spearman asked. “Refreshments?”

“I don’t know,” the archer admitted.

“Not big on camouflage, are they,” Dana said to Jayden.

One of the archers looked smug. “Bascal’s army has nothing to hide from. Let them send dozens, hundreds, thousands, and this fort will still stand.”

Dana wasn’t sure if that was bravado or he was trying to keep his men’s morale up. Either way, she didn’t share his opinion. The narrow path would only let a few men across it at a time, but a large enough force could keep sending men one after the other until the fort fell, and that assumed Meadowland didn’t send wizards or monsters to support the attack. None of these men looked like they could stop a golem.

One of the spearmen’s eyes went up and down Dana’s body. Annoyed, she put her hands on her hips and demanded, “You’ve never seen a girl before?”

“Not in the last two months.”

“That’s how long you’ve been up here?” She glanced at Jayden and asked, “Is that normal for armies?”

“Long deployments are common during times of peace and essential during war.” Jayden yawned and stretched his arms. “Gentlemen, we’re rapidly running out of daylight. Are there sleeping accommodations for the lady?”

“Not really,” the archer admitted. “The barracks is filled with your prisoners. We don’t have a place to sleep ourselves until they’re shipped back.”

“Horseman approaching!” a scout called out. He pointed up the trail and squinted. “Officer!”

“Finally,” Jayden said.

The mounted officer wore a fancier version of the gold and red Bascal army uniform over his plate armor, with medals on his shoulders and a glowing sword in hand. He slowed to a trot and stopped ahead of the soldiers. Men stood at attention and saluted, only relaxing when he saluted back. “Report.”

A spearman answered him. “Sir, earlier today we heard sounds of battle across the border. I sent a scout to investigate, and he found a Meadowland company in full retreat. They left behind some weapons and food along with eighteen wounded men. It seems this man, the Sorcerer Lord, and the girl following him are responsible. They asked us to take charge of the wounded enemy and then the Sorcerer Lord asked, and I quote, sir, ‘Take me to your leader,’ end quote. We brought the two of them here with the prisoners and sent for you.”

The officer studied Jayden, his expression alternating curiosity and suspicion. “You wished to see a leader of Bascal. Speak your piece.”

“I come seeking an audience with your king.” Jayden spoke more diplomatically than normal. “We share a common foe, one driven and capable, that I cannot stop alone. I seek the aid of your king and offer my own in return.”

“You think he would welcome a criminal into our ranks?” the officer challenged.

Dana stepped closer to Jayden so he was between her and the officer, and then took Jayden’s hand and pressed it softly. She wanted to speak to him, to ask him to keep his temper in check, but she couldn’t in front of this man without making him look weak. She hoped he understood what she was trying to get across without words. A few soldiers noticed but said nothing.

Jayden didn’t look bothered. “He may accept my help or decline it, as is his right. It is my hope, though, that he will if nothing else hear me words, for I have seen things he must know of. You know my name and reputation. I am no friend of Tyros and Amvicta, nor the men they surround themselves with. I’ve fought long and hard against them, and you now fight them, too. I have never raised a hand against Bascal. Indeed, I have visited your land in peace. Despise me if you will, but do not consider me unworthy after the battles I have fought against those who seek to tear down all that you love.”

The officer chuckled. “I’d heard you had a rage within you that could burn cities. It seems your woman has had a gentling effect on you.”

Nearby soldiers winced or looked away. Dana pressed harder on his hand, silently praying he wouldn’t get offended. Jayden’s eyes narrowed, and when he spoke it was with a coldness verging on insult. “She is a friend. I give my respect to few, yet she has earned it time and again.”

An archer cleared his throat and said, “Begging your pardon, sir, but tales claim the girl is one of four who fought Wall Wolf the iron golem. She walked away and it, ah, didn’t.”

The officer kept his eyes on Jayden. “I’d heard the same story. Very well, Sorcerer Lord, I believe you’re a danger to your own homeland and not mine. Whether King Rascan wishes to see you or not is beyond my station, but we will receive you and he will learn of your visit. I can offer no more.”

“That is enough,” Jayden replied.

The officer nodded to the archer who’d spoken. “Gather up the prisoners and bring them with us to the city. I’m afraid you’ll have to walk, Sorcerer Lord.”

“Actually, we won’t be.” Jayden waved for a soldier to bring three horses from behind the fort. “An enemy was obliging enough to provide us with transport.”

“Is he among the living?” the officer asked teasingly.

“It’s an honor not all of his associates share.”

The officer led Dana and Jayden along with ten soldiers and eighteen prisoners down the path. The moon rose and shined far overhead when they left the mountains and reached a sizeable city lit up as bright as day. The city was walled and had round towers that boasted bright beacons and ballista manned by more troops. There were no buildings outside the wall, but Dana spotted wreckage that might have been a house.

“That looks recent,” she told Jayden.

“It is, and there are more of them ahead. I believe our hosts tore down every building outside the city wall so as to provide Meadowland no cover or shelter should they reach this far.”

“That means a lot of people lost everything they had.”

“They would have lost it when a Meadowland army attacks. This way they had an opportunity to salvage what they could.” Jayden rode on a moment in silence before saying, “The owners will also have the blessing of going to safer quarters with more protection than those buildings could provide.”

The officer interrupted, saying, “Take no pity on the men and women who lived here. They gave up their property willingly for the good of Bascal.”

Dana wasn’t so sure how willing those people had been. When men with swords arrived, wise people kept their mouths shut and did as they were told. The owners of these shops and homes may have smiled and nodded when they were ordered to leave, only to weep afterwards. It was sad to see so many lose so much when the war hadn’t reached them yet.

City gates opened to grant them entry, and armed men exited to greet them. The officer explained who his guests were, and they were received without complaint. The prisoners were taken to cells while Dana and Jayden were shown to a house barely large enough to fit them. There were many other brick houses far larger, but they were filled to capacity with people.

“My apologies for your poor accommodations, but space was hard to come by even before the war,” the officer explained. “I’ll have food sent to you and someone will look after your horses. You’ll be sent to the capital tomorrow with an armed escort. What happens from there is your own doing.”

“A roof over our heads and full stomachs is all I ask for myself and the lady,” Jayden replied. He opened the door and ushered Dana in before stepping inside and closing the door. Inside they found straw mattresses on the floor and nothing else. “This is going as well as could be expected, but we still need to be careful. If they have heard of you, they may know about your magic sword and seek to claim it. Let no one hold Chain Cutter without my express permission regardless of their rank or station.”

“We might get robbed by the people we came to for help. Peachy.”

Jayden set down his bags and tested a mattress with his hand. “The rich and powerful often have an exaggerated opinion of what belongs to them. War’s coming will only make this worse, as they seek any and all means to prolong their survival. Our being foreigners will only increase this tendency.”

“They’d rob a Sorcerer Lord?”

He smiled. “They’d try to. Should that happen I intend to abandon any and all efforts to be reasonable.”

“No killing people, Jayden.”

“You do restrict my entertainment.”

* * * * *

Morning brought no attempted robberies and a filling breakfast of eggs and oatmeal. Dana was grateful for fresh food after eating far too much hardtack and dried meat. Their horses were returned, fed and watered, and a new officer approached with four mounted knights.

“I am Captain Stillman,” the man said as he saluted. “I’ve been tasked with bringing you to the capital. The ride should take only three days, and you will be given food and shelter equal to what I receive.”

“Most generous of you,” Jayden said as Dana mounted her horse.

“Word reached us that you helped destroy an army of the undead in Meadowland,” Stillman replied. “I wouldn’t turn down capable assistance.”

Jayden froze. “I’m curious how you heard of that event.”

“A Ms. Lockheart provided vivid testimony, supported by Meadowland soldiers that defected after the outrage.” Stillman smiled and added, “Ms. Lockheart speaks most enthusiastically of the event, and of you.”

Dana giggled. “You left Meadowland, but you can’t get away from Suzy.”

“Death may not be enough to free me of her,” Jayden said grimly, provoking more giggles from Dana.

The trip took a day longer that Stillman said, but it was unavoidable when the road was so crowded. Wagon trained loaded with food, weapons, building materials, livestock and more took up much of the road. Soldiers marching for the front competed for space with civilians fleeing battles. Leaving the road was out of the question when it seemed every square inch of flat ground was either farm fields or homes.

“When last we saw Lockheart, she was going to close one of the passes between Meadowland and Bascal,” Jayden told Stillman. “Did she succeed?”

“Ms. Lockheart’s explosive exceeded expectations,” Stillman replied. “Meadowland soldiers are trying to clear the pass while our men oppose them. That leaves one major pass and river access to Bascal. We hold them all, but pressure increases daily. Your King Tyros seems to have limitless men under his command, and not just men.”

“I may be of some service in reducing the odds against you.”

Stillman glanced at Dana. “Some may question employing you, but desperate times make for unlikely alliances. You and your swordswoman will be welcomed in many quarters.”

“Wait, I’m a what?” Dana asked.

“My apologies if my description of you is inaccurate, but all the tales I’ve heard regarding you speak of you dispatching foes with a magic sword. Have you other skills?”

Dana frowned as she considered the question. Her training with Jayden was far from complete, but she could see why someone who didn’t know her well would think that’s what she did for a living. How else would she describe herself? Mayor’s daughter, farmer girl and trapper of rabbits didn’t sound impressive. Some might describe her as a thief after all the things she’d taken, which left her feeling queasy. “I guess we should stick with swordswoman.”

“It’s a rarity here,” Stillman told her. “Almost as much as Sorcerer Lords. Have you apprentices that could help?”

“None,” Jayden told him, “and this is a poor time to train one.”

“Agreed,” Stillman said. “Training a soldier can take a year. Less than that and you’ve only created a victim. I would imagine training a wizard takes even longer.”

They entered more mountainous lands heavy with trees and a few houses. As they came to the top of a hill, Stillman stopped his horse and pointed at a distance city. “Welcome to Dragon Roost, capital of Bascal.”

“Oh my,” Dana said. She’d seen only a few cities in Meadowland, and many of them were massively disappointing. Dragon Roost broke that record in an awe inspiring way, with towering walls of stones fitted together so well they seemed to be carved from a single piece of stone. Buildings rose high into the air with impressive designs that included huge carvings of eagles. Central to the city was a castle so massive Dana wondered how anyone could ever hope to take it by force.

“I doubt Meadowland has anything to compare to it,” Stillman said smugly.

“Tyros and Amvicta spent their money elsewhere,” Jayden said darkly.

Dragon Roost was a city out of dreams, but as Dana approached, she saw a worrying sign. Guards were common enough, but they were older men and boys younger than she was. They were equipped with armor and weapons equal to the other soldiers she’d seen, but it seemed an ill fit for those clearly not the right age to fight.

Stillman saw her questioning look and explained, “Bascal’s best warriors are needed at the frontlines, leaving a need for warriors elsewhere. King Rascan has called up veterans to serve again and conscripted boys to fill the ranks. They serve here to free up men to fight. Don’t fear for them. Dragon Roost’s strong walls make even boys and gray haired men a threat no one would face.”

Dana didn’t share Stillman’s faith. She’d fought enough monsters and golems to understand how much damage they could do. True, they could fall, and she’d beaten many herself, but that was with Chain Cutter and Jayden. Could these boys do the same without such help?

A smaller gate opened to let them into the city, and they found the interior as grand as the outsides. Dragon Roost was packed with people of all races, draft animals, exotic beasts and more. Larger houses had large pots growing beautiful flowers on their balconies and porches. Dana saw four people on the streets traveling with brightly colored birds as big as hawks sitting on their shoulders, and the birds made no attempt to fly away. Residents were uniformly healthy and well dressed, better than most Dana had seen. Dana and Jayden’s arrival attracted only minor attention as they traveled the crowded streets, no surprise when it seemed like half the men they came across were rich and armed.

“Is it always like this?” Dana asked Stillman.

“It’s a tad more crowded than normal because King Rascan is holding a ball for his followers.”

Dana’s jaw dropped. “During a war?”

“The ball is an excuse to gather trusted allies and enlist more help,” Jayden explained. “Rascan is facing a war that could end his dynasty, and wants to make sure his nobles and allies will do their part. He will meet privately with those he depends most on, assigning duties and promising rewards for their aid. Those not citizens of Bascal, like ourselves, may find rewards for our support, even if we’re held at arm’s length.”

Stillman shot Jayden an angry look. Dana said, “Sorry, he’s as subtle as a brick to the face.”

“True,” Jayden admitted, “but am I wrong?”

“It’s not my place to question my king’s actions or guess his motives,” Stillman said firmly. “King Rascan knows more than I and can better judge what course Bascal should take. I would strongly suggest you consider your words more carefully if he should choose to speak with you. No man is so important that he might question a king.”

“That’s an opinion sadly common among those living in Meadowland,” Jayden replied. “I’ve been my own man too long to bow to another, but rest assured I will be polite to Rascan.”

“King Rascan,” Stillman corrected him.

Stillman led them through the streets to a hotel large enough to house two hundred people. Staff took their horses to a stable and led them inside the luxurious building. Red and gold carpets covered the floor and stairs, paintings hung on the walls, and gilt cages held brightly colored birds. The hotel’s common room was packed with guests and staff catering to their needs so there was little room to even stand. Stillman spoke to the hotel’s manager in private while Dana and Jayden waited at the entrance.

“The manager doesn’t look happy to see us,” Dana said softly.

Jayden studied Stillman as he continued speaking with the manager. “He’s telling Stillman there’s no room to spare. Stillman is ordering him to find a room even if that means emptying one for us.”

“I don’t want to get someone kicked out on the street,” Dana protested.

“Nor do I, but I believe Stillman has judged us a prize worth having. His superiors will reward him richly for bringing a wizard to defend Bascal. If that means treating someone of less importance poorly, it’s a price he’s willing to pay.”

“Maybe we can stay somewhere else tonight.”

Stillman returned smiling. “I’ve arranged for you to stay at the king’s request, so there will be no charge.”

“Please tell me someone didn’t lose their bed because of us,” Dana said.

“No, but two men of minor influence will have to share a room. I’ll inform the king of your arrival. Whether he sees you or one of his ministers is an open question, but either way you’ll both need more appropriate clothing. It’s not every day a man meets royalty.”

“Oh, it might surprise you how often it happens,” Jayden replied. “If we’re expected to dress for success, can you recommend a tailor for us?”

Stillman waved for a manservant to join them. “Take these two to Cassandra’s. If you’ll excuse me, I need to inform my superiors that you’re here.”

Stillman left the hotel, and the manservant looked offended at being so close to Dana and Jayden. He sniffed and said, “If you’ll come with me…sir.”

“A moment first,” Jayden said pleasantly. He leaned in close to the manservant’s ear and whispered too softly for Dana to hear him. When he stepped back, the manservant’s face was as white as a sheet, his eye opened wide and fixed on Jayden. “Do we understand each other?”

“Yes sir, and madam.”

“Must you make enemies everywhere we go?” Dana asked Jayden as they followed the manservant out of the hotel.

“I don’t make enemies. I deal with them efficiently when I meet them.”

It took them some time to find Cassandra’s, a ratty looking shop far from Dragon Roost’s brightly lit thoroughfares. The windows were dirty and little light came through them, the brick walls needed fresh mortar, and the street had more than its share of trash.

“It doesn’t impress at first sight,” Jayden said as he studied the building.

“Cassandra does quality work even if she’s not favored by the city elite,” the manservant said quickly. “She has a reputation for speaking her mind, sir.”

Jayden cheered up quickly. “Now that is worthy praise. I believe we can find our way back to the hotel without further assistance, and you doubtless have work to do.”

The manservant bowed and hastily left. Jayden rubbed his hands together and opened the door. “Let’s see if the owner is open to accepting work.”

“Whatever happens, don’t threaten her life.”

A bell rang as they stepped into the shop’s dark interior. Unlike the outside, the building’s insides were clean. Counters and shelves were heavy with beautifully dyed cloth, and wood dummies wearing the most beautiful dresses Dana had ever seen stood like dancers. Silks, furs, cotton, wool, linen, even snake skins, there didn’t seem to be a fabric or material missing.

“You said we wouldn’t have to share rooms anymore!” a girl shrieked from the back of the store.

An older woman’s voice answered, “I’m sorry, is the invasion upsetting your delicate sensibilities? Your cousins are coming and need somewhere to sleep.”

Another girl cried, “There’s not enough room!”

“Bread prices have doubled and you’re worried about room,” the older woman’s voice replied sharply.

“Ahem,” Jayden said.

The voices fell silent, and they heard people running to them. A door opened at the back of the room to let in a white haired woman in a beautiful yellow cotton dress and carrying a lit oil lamp. Behind her came two girls no older than eleven dressed in vibrant red skirts and yellow blouses. The girls took one look at Jayden before turning to one another and giggling.

“Shush, both of you,” the old woman said.

“Cassandra, I presume?” Jayden asked. “You come recommended.”

Cassandra gave him a calculating look with a sly smile. “You’re going to the ball.”

“Quite possibly.”

“You and the girl need clothes.”

Jayden studied his fingernails. “We do need appropriate attire.”

“You can pay for them?” she asked hopefully.

Jayden took a coin pouch from his belongings and tossed it to Cassandra. “I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.”

Cassandra tore open the pouch and poured coins into her hands. “Gold! Sissy, Meryl, light the candles and get my shears.”

“I get to take his measurements!” one of the girls squealed.

“No fair!” the other whined.

Dana assumed it would take days to produce clothes good enough to stand in front of a king, but Cassandra had no trouble with the task. She had plenty of clothes already made that needed only slight adjustments to fit like a glove, almost like she was expecting them. Once she had a basic black suit and jacket for Jayden, she embellished it with mother of pearl on the shoulders and gloves, and white accents on the legs. Boots came next, black with white along the sides. She finished with a silver pin and white ribbon to tie back his hair in a ponytail that she slid into the back of his jacket.

“As impressive as I expected,” Jayden told her.

Cassandra turned her gaze on Dana. “Black and silver worked for your man, but I think you need a gentler touch. Innocent, pure, with just a hint of anger.”

“Anger?” Dana asked.

Cassandra grabbed a silk dress and held it up against Dana. “I see it in your eyes. Outrage at offenses too many to count. You hold it back, hiding it from the world, but you’ve a temper to match his. Don’t say otherwise.”

“This is why you don’t get more business, grandma,” one of the girls scolded her.

Cassandra went to work modifying the dress. “I say what I see. Not my fault if others don’t like it.”

Dana’s jaw dropped when she saw Cassandra’s work. Her silk dress seemed to shimmer in even the faintest light. Cassandra added silk the color of ripe red apples on the back and skirt, and gorgeous braided red silk along the forearms and down her back. This came with white gloves that reached to her elbows and white shoes that came halfway to Dana’s knees.

“No high heels?” one of the girls asked.

“This is a girl who runs,” Cassandra said. “I’ve added a sheath for your sword on the back. The ribbons will cover it.”

Horrified, Dana asked, “You think I’m bringing a sword to a party?”

“Your man doesn’t need one with the power coming off him, but you do,” Cassandra replied. She tallied up the cost for their new clothes. When she tried to hand Jayden his change, he shook his head. Cassandra smiled at him. “I get feelings about people. You’ve done more than most and aren’t close to being finished. I see a heart of gold wrapped in rusty chains. Break them off for yourself and those who need you.”

“You’re an interesting woman, Cassandra,” Jayden told her. “I’m glad we met.”

Cassandra wrapped Jayden’s suit and Dana’s dress in paper before sending them on their way. They’d nearly left when Cassandra said, “Wait. We’re not alone.”

Dana looked down the streets packed with people. No one looked suspicious, but she felt a shiver run down her back, like someone had walked on her grave. Everyone on the street suddenly stopped walking and looked around. Whatever caused it passed quickly, and people shook off the effect.

“What was that?” Dana asked.

Cassandra held her shears like a weapon. “Not sure, but I know evil when I feel it. You two be careful. No coincidence that happening the same time you’re here.”

“Wise words from a wise woman,” Jayden said. He took Dana by the arm and left for the hotel. The trip was peaceful with no further chills, but it worried Dana all the same. She’d experienced a lot in the time she’d been following Jayden. This was new, disturbing. They reached the hotel by nightfall without incident and found it slowing down. Most of the guests were in their rooms and staff were bringing trays of food to guests’ rooms. Jayden spoke briefly with a servant before returning to Dana.

“We’ve been assigned room 204. Take our things up to the room and wait for me there. I’m going to have them send us meals and place wards.”

“I’ve never seen you use wards.”

Jayden glanced at the door. “I’ve never felt the need to do so before, but something or someone was on that street with us. I mean to keep it at arm’s length.”

Dana took their new outfits and went up a flight of carpeted stairs to the hotel’s second floor. The hallway was brightly lit by lamps on the walls, and the carpeting dulled the sound of her feet on the floor.

Then she felt a chill run up her back before a door to her left burst open and a man made of water lunged at her. A serving girl farther down the hallway screamed as the water man hit Dana hard enough to knock her into the wall. She dropped the clothes and pressed both hands against him, and pushed hard enough to shove him against the opposite wall. The two struggled, and in the bright light she had no trouble recognizing the face of her attacker.

“Ghost Hunter!”

“I said I’d get you!”

Dana pushed him away and drew her sword. Chain Cutter lit up the hallway even brighter than before, and she slashed Ghost Hunter across the chest. Her sword sliced through his body and came out with no effect. Ghost Hunter gave her a sadistic grin before he swung a fist at her face. She ducked under it and stabbed Ghost Hunter through the stomach no more effect than her first attack.

Doors across the hallway opened up as frightened men and women ran out. They screamed when they saw Ghost Hunter and many ran away. One man tried to grab Ghost Hunter from behind, but his hands went through the watery man.

Ghost Hunter pushed aside two men to come after Dana again. She gave up trying to stab him and punched him hard in the jaw. Her fist went into him and came out feeling wet, but without doing any damage. He swung at her again, hitting her in the stomach. Dana pushed into him, shoving him back a few feet to give herself room to move. When she stepped back, she found her blouse soaking wet.

That’s when she knew how to beat him. He could hold himself together, but not completely if he’d left water on her. She needed to make him lose more.

Dana ran from Ghost Hunter as fast as she could, heading down the stairs and to the lobby. He raced after her, screaming, “You can’t get away from me!”

Jayden saw her coming and drew his magic sword. She waved for him to move aside and called out, “I’ve got this!”

Jayden got out of her way and Ghost Hunter came charging down the stairs. Ghost Hunter went another ten feet toward her before he collapsed to the floor, and looked down to find he was missing his feet. There were wet spots on the carpeting everywhere he’d run, for he’d left behind part of his body with every step he took. Even now water he’d used to make a body was being absorbed into the carpeting.

Dana saw a terrified serving girl carrying a stack of towels with her back up against a wall. Dana took the towels from her and ran at Ghost Hunter. She tackled him and pressed the towels against his body. Ghost hunter thrashed about, trying to escape her, but in seconds so much of him soaked into the towels that he came apart entirely. With his body destroyed, Ghost hunter rose up as a translucent young man. He balled up his fists and scowled at her before fading out.

An older woman wearing furs stepped up beside Dana. “What was that?”

“A guy who won’t take no for an answer.”

The woman clucked her tongue. “Oh, aren’t they the worst.”

“Are you hurt?” Jayden asked.

Dana handed the wet towels to a servant. “It was scary more than anything else. How did he get in here, and where did he get the water to do that?”

“A good question.” Jayden led her up to the room Ghost Hunter had come out of. They found a large tin bathtub, and a woman wearing a nightgown curled up in the corner and shivering.

“I, he,” the woman began before falling silent.

Dana kneeled down and put an arm around her. “Shh, he’s gone now.”

“She must have had the servants draw her a bath,” Jayden said. “That was enough material for Ghost Hunter to create a body to attack you.

“I thought he gave up after we beat him.”

Jayden frowned. “As did I. I’m going to make sure he can’t try that again. We have to assume he will try.”

* * * * *
Dana didn’t sleep well after the attack even though their room was wonderful. She wasn’t used to being hunted, and having someone so hateful after her was disturbing. Jayden had spent the night asleep against the door. Dana frowned when she saw a shimmering shape in the air, almost impossible to see except for the dust in the air it pushed out of its way. It floated close to her, made loops around her head and then drifted off.

“Allow me to introduce Stanley,” Jayden said. “I learned how to summon him from the second spell tablet you received from Brasten the Unbeaten. I haven’t used it before, as the spell takes a considerable amount of time to cast and requires him to stay in one location. But today he is essential and will guard our room faithfully.”

“How tough is he?”

“Exceedingly.”

The shape drifted closer to Dana again. “What is he?”

“Stanley is a nature spirit that favors shadows. Long ago he served the Sorcerer Lords and was delighted to do so again. He quite literally works for a song.”

Dana sat at the edge of her bed. She was glad to have another friend, and was embarrassed to need one. “I’ve never heard you sing. Do you mind if I do it for you? I’d feel better about it if I did.”

“Go ahead.”

Dana took a deep breath and sang a song she’d last heard in church many years ago. It was an ode to loyalty and seemed appropriate. The barely seen thing flew slowly around her, and she heard a faint humming in time with her song. When she finished, the spirit gently pressed against her forehead before drifting off.

“How soon until Ghost Hunter attacks us again?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. Most ghosts are tied to specific locations, and are nowhere near as strong or dangerous. Their deaths were painful or they left work undone so they couldn’t depart, but that’s not the only way one can become a ghost. I fear Ghost Hunter is among the second group and made dark sacrifices to stay on this world. What little I’ve heard of such ghosts is that they need time to regain their strength after battles. How long that will take is unknown.”

Jayden was silent for a moment before he spoke again. “I accept that men seek to kill me. It’s the logical consequence of the life I’ve chosen for myself. One reason I have been reluctant to have friends or allies is what happened to you last night. For me to have a friend means risking losing them, possibly violently. I am having difficulty dealing with that possibility. You are a good woman, better than most, and morally my superior. You should know that the thought of you coming to harm is making me a tad murderous.”

“We beat him twice and he’s still not gone. If we’re going to stop this, I need you to think and not be stabby.” Jayden’s expression showed how unlikely that was, so she tried to focus his attention. “Can your magic hurt Ghost Hunter?”

He shook his head. “While Ghost Hunter hovers between life and death, he isn’t the product of necromancy. This means my spells are not more effective against him than normal, and if anything are woefully inadequate when so little hurts him.”

Dana watched the faint image of Stanley float around her. “If he’s a soul that won’t leave, this sounds more like a religious matter than a magic one. We need a priest.”

“You may be right. Bascal has many, some refugees from when King Tyros evicted the Brotherhood of the Righteous from Meadowland. We’ll see about finding one before meeting King Rascan.”

There was a knock at the door, and Jayden got up off the floor to open it. He waved for Stanley to move aside and let in Stillman.

“I understand there was an attack against you last night,” Stillman said to Jayden.

“Against her,” Jayden replied. “She dealt with him, but our foe is a ghost and I fully expect him to attack again.”

“I’ll have guards assigned to you both to prevent further attacks.” Stillman looked at Dana, his expression betraying concern mixed with pity. “You live a violent life, but I refuse to see a woman put in danger on my watch. This ghost faces the wrath of all of Bascal.”

“That’s only one matter we need to discuss,” Jayden said. “I take it you’ve spoken with your king?”

Stillman turned his attention back to Jayden. “I informed my superiors who spoke with him. Word reached me this morning that King Rascan is indeed interested in acquiring your services. There will be some delay as tomorrow’s ball must occupy his full attention, but he will send word to you through trusted servants as soon as he can.”

“So we’re not going to get to speak with him,” Dana said.

“Not in person, but be assured that any words you hear from me or my superiors come directly from him without alteration.” Stillman headed for the door. “I’ll return shortly with your guards.”

Once Stillman was gone, Jayden drove his fist into the mattress. “This trip is wasted if we only speak with bureaucrats. There’s no way they’d give one of their king’s treasures to a foreigner, especially when they are so disgustingly subservient to the man. It would be like pawning your father’s wedding ring.”

“They probably couldn’t pay us either, not when they need money for the army.”

“You’re certainly right. The best we could expect would be delayed payment, cash or gifts once the fighting is over.” Jayden scowled. “Yet I feel confident they will expect us to take considerable risks on their behalf.”

“Which is not a bad thing,” she reminded him. “If we save Bascal then that’s one kingdom Tyros and Amvicta don’t get.”

“That’s little reward for great personal expense. While this isn’t the worst possible outcome, it draws close to it.”

Dana frowned. “We can’t see anyone with Ghost hunter coming after us. Can you imagine what would happen if he attacked while we were meeting someone important?”

“Then we need God on our side in a very personal and direct way.” Jayden headed for the door. “Come, let us find a Brotherhood church and seek an audience with its priest.”

They found the hotel less occupied than last night and the guests jittery. Dana didn’t blame them when there had been an attack last night, and she heard whispers that King Tyros had been responsible for it. Sadly, they were right. Staff members gave them a wide berth except for a single woman who curtsied to Dana.

Jayden spoke briefly to a manservant and returned to Dana. “There are a number of churches we can choose from. The largest and oldest is a mile away and the most likely to have a holy man strong enough to help us or knowledgeable enough to answer our questions. They may be as busy as the king now that Bascal is at war, but if one can’t see us the others might.”

They left the hotel to the obvious relief of the staff and guests. The streets were as busy as before, and it took considerable effort to slip between crowds, wagons and draft animals. People looked determined rather than worried by the threat they faced, and work went on without complaint.

“A lot of people are staring at us,” Dana said.

“We’re strangers in their city during a time of war. I imagine many wonder who we are, why we’ve come and if we are dangerous. Try to look friendly, and easier task for you than me, and don’t stare back.”

They hadn’t gone five steps when a fashionably dressed man stared at them in horror and screamed, “Guards! Call the guards!”

Panic spread through the crowd until an older guardsman dressed in gold and red came with a sword. “Sir, what’s the matter?”

“I imagine it’s us,” Jayden said casually. “It generally is.”

“That’s a wanted man!” the fashionably dressed man cried out. People on the street backed away from Jayden and Dana. “He’s accused of arson, assault and horse stealing!”

“He missed a lot,” Dana told Jayden.

“True, but he got his point across.”

The guardsman took the fashionably dressed man by the arm and pulled him aside. “Sir, the authorities were informed of the Sorcerer Lord’s presence last night. He’s come to help.”

“B-but he’s a criminal!” the fashionably dressed man protested. “Have we sunk so low that we’ll take help from anyone? Is Bascal to become home to renegades and vagabonds?”

Jayden looked bored with the accusations and insults made against him, but Dana was worried. The bounty on Jayden’s head was massive and might convince people that he was as monstrous as Tyros claimed. What if these people turned against them? She and Jayden were armed, but she didn’t want to hurt these people.

Speaking louder, the guardsman announced, “King Rascan has accepted the Sorcerer Lord’s offer and expects the people to do the same, sir. I trust you won’t question his decision during a time of crisis.”

Dana watched the crowd’s mood go from fear to acceptance in a matter of seconds. Most moved on as if little had happened. A few stayed long enough to offer a thank you or shake his hand. An elderly man told Jayden, “A drowning man doesn’t ask who’s saving him.”

The fashionably dressed man stood confused as others moved on. He obviously didn’t like what was going on, but with no support from the authorities or his peers he couldn’t do anything. He ended up walking away, looking back every few steps at Jayden.

“That was strange,” Dana told Jayden as they walked again. “It’s like they were under a spell.”

“They’ve been taught loyalty and conformity from birth,” Jayden told her. “Don’t rock the boat, don’t stand out, don’t ask questions. Privately they might have doubts, but they won’t want to look like troublemakers in front of their peers. It’s common enough behavior, and surprisingly works to our benefit.”

Dana frowned. “My father taught me to always ask questions. I mean, technically he was right about you, he just left out the part where you did those things to the country they’re at war with. Someone should have asked him for proof or to explain himself better. Instead they just followed orders.”

“It’s common enough behavior in any kingdom,” he told her.

“It shouldn’t be.”

“I won’t argue the point with you, but we have other matters that demand our attention,” Jayden said as they walked by an open air cafe. “Once Ghost Hunter is gone, we need a way to meet the king without intermediaries. That will be a difficult task when he has so many concerns.”

“Would getting into the ball help?”

Jayden shrugged. “If nothing else it would make a meeting with him possible, but the odds of that happening are low.”

Dana smiled when she saw a familiar face moving through the crowd. It was easy to spot him when everyone bowed or curtsied when he approached. “We could ask.”

“I doubt Stillman or his fellow officers would respond well to a request.”

“I wasn’t going to ask them.” Dana broke away from Jayden and headed for someone who could help. “Prince Onus!”

Prince Onus of Kaleoth stopped in mid step when he heard her call his name. The handsome, dark haired prince wore expertly tailored linen clothes and a sword. Nearby people looked surprised by how friendly she greeted him, and a man said, “She doesn’t bow to a prince?”

Prince Onus glanced at the man and said, “She doesn’t have to. Miss Illwind, it pleases me beyond words to see you. I owe you a great debt, and an apology.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she said playfully.

“It’s true, I do. I sent you to destroy the bridges that would have allowed the invasion of my homeland, a dangerous enough task, but I never intended for you and the Sorcerer Lord to attack Wall Wolf, much less kill the iron golem. You were placed in grave peril on account of my people, and I will never forgive myself for that.” Prince Onus looked around the crowd. “Ah, there’s your friend. Greetings, Sorcerer Lord.”

“Prince,” Jayden said. “You’re a long way from home, and have nowhere near the protection a man of your status requires.”

“It’s unavoidable,” he said. “King Rascan asked me to come to coordinate our efforts to repel Meadowland’s attacks. He refused offers to speak with court ministers and insisted I come in person so any deals made would be binding. Regarding my light guard detail, Rascan made it clear that bringing bodyguards would be insulting when I’m in his capital. Klim brought me here on a magic cloud, but I had to send him back at once. He is needed back home to repel fresh attacks from Meadowland.”

Prince Onus waved at the crowd and explained, “Do not fear for my safety, though, for I have armed men in the crowd following me. Bascal maintains an effective and stealthy security team for my protection.”

“It’s still a big risk walking in the open like this,” Dana told him.

“If I hide, I send the message that I’m afraid, and that Kaleoth is weak willed.” Prince Onus smiled and said, “But enough of my troubles. Seeing you greatly eases my mind. I thought I’d never get the chance to thank you in person. Fate smiles on me for a change. What brings you here?”

Dana smiled back. “Jayden’s looking for spell tablets that belong to King Rascan. We’re supposed to meet someone who will meet someone who might get them for us, but it’s a long shot. Say, I bet you’re going to tomorrow’s ball. Any way you could get us in?”

Prince Onus looked around like someone about to confess a secret. He stepped closer before asking, “Would you? I feel foolish for asking, but Bascal’s noblewomen have made the most improper requests of me since I arrived. They might be more discreet if I’m in the company of a woman.”

Puzzled, she asked, “What sort of request?” Prince Onus blushed, and Dana blushed too when she realized what he meant. “Oh!”

“It wouldn’t hurt to have known heroes in my company, either,” Prince Onus added. “Most of the people I’ve met have been polite, but a few question my kingdom’s commitment to fighting the war, and our capacity to do so.”

“That’s rude! Isn’t that rude, Jayden?”

“Barbaric,” Jayden said dryly. “We’d be most pleased to chaperone you and keep scandalous women at arm’s length.”

The meeting was interrupted when Stillman came upon them with four knights. “Why did you leave the hotel when I told you I was bringing guards?”

“Because your guards can’t hurt a ghost and we need someone who can,” Jayden replied. “Kind of you to make the effort, though. Have you met the prince? Charming fellow.”

Stillman glanced at Prince Onus. “Oh dear. Royal security is going to have my head over this. If we can continue this discussion in private, please?”

A chill ran down Dana’s back, and she saw everyone on the street suddenly look surprised. She drew her sword and said, “He’s back.”

Ghost Hunter hit Stillman from behind hard enough to send him to the ground. People screamed and ran as Ghost Hunter’s new body made from dirt, dung and garbage grabbed a knight and shoved him into the wall of a tavern. The other knights drew their swords and attacked, doing little to a body made of solids and water in equal parts. Their weapons struck to little effect when there were no organs to pierce or veins to cut. He pushed them aside and strode after Dana.

Dana raised Chain Cutter to strike, and was surprised to see Prince Onus step alongside her with his own blade drawn. Men across the street drew hidden weapons and ran to the prince’s defense, welcome help. They should be able to hurt this body more easily than the water one Ghost Hunter had made, but he’d come back twice now. How many more times could he do this?

“Where’s my sickle, wench?” Ghost Hunter demanded. “Give it back or I’ll—”

There was a flash of red at Ghost Hunter’s knees, and he fell to the street with his right leg severed. Jayden held up the red sickle with its glowing blade. “What, this old thing? Hello, Ghost Hunter. I see you’ve built yourself a body that matches your soul.”

“You dog!” Ghost Hunter yelled as he struggled to get up. That ended when Jayden swept the sickle down and took off Ghost Hunter’s right arm at the shoulder. Jayden grabbed what was left of his enemy and shoved him against the tavern wall.

“This is the third time you’ve lost to us,” Jayden said through gritted teeth. “We can and will kill you as many times as it takes to get it through your head that you’ll never win. Do you hear me, you petty, pathetic excuse for a man? You will never win!”

Ghost Hunter scowled back with a face made of filth. “I can lose a hundred times. You only have to lose once.”

“I’m legitimately sorry this won’t hurt,” Jayden said. He stepped back and cast a spell to form his shield of spinning black blades, and diced Ghost Hunter’s body to pieces. Bits of him flew across the street before the spell failed. Ghost Hunter reappeared as a translucent young man, enraged and snarling before he faded away.

“You have problems of your own,” Prince Onus said. He sheathed his blade and said, “They are now my problems, too.”

Jayden helped up Stillman. “Not long ago we fought Ghost Hunter and won, a victory he is intent on contesting. We need him dealt with permanently before dusk.”

“I’ve heard of this fiend,” Stillman said. “He’s said to have fought countless battles over thirty years. What can we do to hurt him that others didn’t?”

“We get holy,” Jayden told them. “Only hours passed since his last attack, so we must assume he won’t need long to regain his strength. Hurry, for time is not an ally.”

“Prince, you must leave,” Stillman told Prince Onus.

That request didn’t go over well. “I have no intention of running when a woman’s life is in danger.”

Stillman didn’t give up. “You have responsibilities to your people and your kingdom.”

“I don’t run from threats, and every second spent arguing is time our enemy can come back again.” Prince Onus looked to Jayden. “If you know our destination, lead on.”

Dana and Jayden led Prince Onus, Stillman, four knights and ten secret agents assigned to Onus down the street. Bystanders got out of their way when they saw so many armed men, and a few called out for the city watch. Dana was worried that every second they traveled gave Ghost Hunter time to come after her again. This was putting other lives in danger, too, including the prince and sole heir of Kaleoth.

Jayden followed directions he’d gotten from the hotel’s staff until they reached a Brotherhood of the Righteous church at the edge of the city. The building was majestic, tall and built of granite blocks to protect it from attacks and the fury of the elements. Large wood doors were open to admit worshipers and stained glass windows let in light and showed saints and angels.

The church took up a large section of the city block, but it wasn’t the only building. Storekeepers beckoned pedestrians to come and buy goods, trying to get attention of worshipers on their way to service. One called out, “War’s not the time to be undefended. Don’t let your children be orphaned when a blade could save you.”

“Selling weapons outside a church,” Dana said. “That’s tacky.”

“What about you, sir?” the storekeeper asked Jayden as he marched up to the church. “A man can never be too well armed.”

Jayden tossed the glowing sickle into the air and caught it. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

The storekeeper gazed longingly at the magic weapon. “Ooh, how much did that put you back?”

A sudden chill ran across Dana, and she grabbed her sword.

“It cost him his life,” Ghost Hunter said as he rebuilt his body. Daggers flew up from the storekeeper’s stall to make a man of blades. Knights and secret agents cried out in shock as their swords were pulled from their sheaths and drawn into the horrible mass of weapons. Jayden and Prince Onus lost both their swords as they were pulled from their scabbards and flew into the air. Chain Cutter nearly flew from Dana’s hands, but she held the handle tightly until the force pulling it stopped.

Ghost Hunter’s new body stood seven feet tall, with swords for hands and more swords sticking out of his back and legs. A malignant sight, the swords and daggers that made up his body glittered in the sunlight. He took a step toward them, stretching his arms and legs before going into a run straight for Dana.

“Scatter!” Jayden ordered as he grabbed Dana and Prince Onus by the hand. He ran into the church with Ghost Hunter only steps behind them. Once they were inside, he pushed the two of them forward while he went to the right.

Inside the church was much like Dana remembered from her youth. There were rows of benches leading to a marble altar. Bowls of holy water were next to the doors and a baptismal font stood to the left of altar, and a huge pipe organ to the altar’s right. Well-worn carpeting covered the floor. Dana spotted eight men and women seated at the benches in prayer, although they looked up as she and Prince Onus ran by.

An elderly brotherhood priest standing by the altar saw them coming and stepped toward them. The black clad priest brushed white hair from his brow and asked, “Sir, madam, people are screaming outside. What is the cause of this disturbance?”

“Angry ghost!” Dana yelled as she ran to the priest.

“Angry?” Ghost Hunter asked as he marched after them, his body of daggers and swords cutting up the carpeting with each step. Worshippers screamed and ran from the walking weapon. “Try murderous, you stupid cow. I’m going to fillet you both!”

The priest’s eyes opened wide and his mouth opened, but surprise was quickly replaced by resolve. He saw Chain Cutter in Dana’s hand and pointed at it. “Place it on the altar, hurry!”

“God’s not going to save you!” Ghost Hunter snarled, and he broke into a run. “No one’s going to save you!”

Ghost Hunter’s hateful taunts ended when a black whip wrapped around his waist. He cried out in surprise, then anger as the whip began to burn through his newest body. Dana saw Jayden behind Ghost Hunter, pulling hard on the whip and trying to stop his enemy. It wasn’t enough, Ghost Hunter was too big this time, too strong, and he forced his way forward. He was slowed, not stopped.

The priest seized a large silver bowl from inside the baptismal font and hurried to the altar. He poured it onto Dana’s sword, and to her shock Chain Cutter absorbed the holy water like a dry sponge. The priest set aside the bowl and called out prayers and benedictions. Chain Cutter glowed white as it took up everything the priest could give it.

“I can make a hundred bodies after this!” Ghost Hunter vowed. “You will die! I’ll kill you, your friends, your family, everyone you love!”

Jayden’s whip cut through one of the daggers that made up Ghost Hunter’s body. Another dagger came apart and fell to the floor, then a sword. He was destroying Ghost Hunter, but not fast enough. Ghost Hunter would be on them before he was gone again.

“It’s ready!” the priest called out.

Dana grabbed her sword and nearly dropped it in surprise. Chain Cutter was warm to the touch, and it glowed a pure white light. She heard voices when she held it, prayers she remembered from childhood.

“You think that will stop me?” Ghost Hunter said contemptuously as he reached the altar. He raised his right arm high and swung it down with two stolen swords aimed at her head.

“Yes,” she told him, hacked off his arm in a shower of sparks before plunging Chain Cutter through his chest.

Dana had seen Ghost Hunter lose three bodies, two to her and one to Jayden, but she’d never heard him scream as he did now. His body of weapons shook, and dropped daggers and swords cut in half as Chain Cutter sliced through it. He staggered under the attack, crying out in agony until his body of blades fell apart. Dana saw Ghost Hunter’s translucent body with her sword driven through his heart. He grabbed it and tried to pull the sword out, and cried out louder as her sword cut his hands.

“You have done great evil,” the priest said as he strode up to Ghost Hunter. “You separated yourself from God and His love when you tied yourself to darkness. You sacrificed everything that truly mattered to hurt others. Even in the throes of evil you had the chance to repent, to be redeemed, and refused it. You will have no more chances.”

“No!” Ghost Hunter cried out. “No!”

“Name yourself,” the priest ordered.

“T-Tellmet Skies,” Ghost Hunter whispered.

The priest’s eyes narrowed, and he pointed a finger at Ghost Hunter. “Tellmet Skies, that sword has severed the bonds that held you to this world. I finish what it started. In His name I order you to leave. Face the judgement you have avoided for so long, and never return.”

Dana couldn’t understand what the priest said next. His words were like thunder that filled the church, echoing between its walls. Ghost Hunter’s panicked screaming was lost in the sound. She saw hands take hold of the ghost and pull him away, but couldn’t see who they were. Ghost Hunter’s rage and spite were replaced with terror as he reached to her for help mere moments after trying to kill her. There was a flash as he disappeared, and the thunderous voice fell silent.

“Wow,” Dana said. She lowered her sword and stared at the mass of weapons on the church floor.

Stillman walked up alongside Jayden. “Is he dead?”

“Tellmet Skies has been dead for some time,” the priest said. “His soul has moved on despite his best efforts to remain.”

“Where did he go?” Dana asked.

“Heaven is an unlikely answer,” the priest told her. He bent down to comfort a frightened woman who’d come here to worship and found her place of refuge turned into a battlefield. “I can’t imagine why he was so foolish as to enter a house of God.”

Jayden retrieved his sword and handed Prince Onus back his blade. “It was a toxic blend of rage and stupidity, aggravated by recent losses to Dana and myself.”

Prince Onus walked up next to Dana. “You killed a ghost. That’s amazing.”

“Oh, ah, it was a group effort,” she told him. Dana was about to sheath Chain Cutter when she noticed it was still glowing. The voices she’d heard praying when she touched it were whispers, but not entirely silent. “Exactly what did you do to my sword?”

The priest looked over at Chain Cutter. “I imagine you’ve never seen that ceremony before. I sanctified your blade so it could hurt him. It now carries within it an infinitesimally small portion of heaven’s glory, enough to put an end to those who immerse themselves in darkness. It’s been quite some time since I had to sanctify a weapon, but thankfully my request for aid was answered.”

“When will the effect wear off?” she asked him.

“It won’t.”