Resonance-Harmonic Magic Book 3 - P.E. Padilla(ang.)

RESONANCE HARMONIC MAGIC BOOK 3

P.E. PADILLA

Copyright © 2017 by P. E. Padilla All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Damonza (https://damonza.com/)

Created with Vellum

For my brother Marc,

May your travels to other lands provide you with adventure and happiness.

CO NTENTS

PEP Talk Map of Gythe - Overview Map of Gythe - Detail North Map of Gythe - Detail South Beware… Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21

Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Epilogue Glossary Thank you! Newsletter About the Author Also by P.E. Padilla

MAP OF GYTHE - DETAIL NORTH

MAP OF GYTHE - DETAIL SOUTH

BEWARE…

Beware the call of power. It approaches as a thief, a lover, a poisonous serpent, and then it is too late to save oneself from folly.

Zouyim master Chetra Dal Keeping to the Wireh

PROLOGUE

Z

ouyim master Chetra Dal had narrowly escaped death. His fellow monks had not. He was not in the clear yet, though. The creature, some sort of guardian, had found them searching where they did not belong. It hunted him still. Its heavy footfalls shook the stone floor of the passageway, and it sniffed for him with a wheezy inrush of air. Dal was not sure he would survive being found. The master monk stopped and drew in a deep breath. He let it out slowly, soundlessly, allowing it to leave his body on its own, not forcing an exhalation. As the breath exited, his body relaxed and his mind cleared. He could not match his hunter in physical combat. His only chance was to outthink the beast. Another deep breath in and another peaceful out-breath, and he was completely

calm. Dal’s eyes swept his surroundings. The crumbling stone corridor smelled of earth as only a place below ground could. He was not sure of his exact location because of the confusion of the battle and his frantic escape after the monster had killed his three brothers. The creature had destroyed them in so short a time. It should have been impossible for anything to defeat three Zouyim monks so expediently. But he had witnessed it. The Zouyim were masters of combat, experts at a martial system that had been developed over hundreds of years. More, though, they were adept at using the rohw, the pervasive vibrational energy that suffused all life and surrounded everything at all times. The monks’ rohw attacks seemed to have bounced off the creature, having no effect at all. How could that be? Nothing should be able to withstand the universal energy like that. The corner of his mind that was always calm was puzzled, and more than a little disturbed at the thought. The stomping grew closer. The grunts of the monster’s breathing rang clearly now. Dal would have to formulate a way to defeat his adversary soon, or he would die as quickly as his brothers. The corridor held nothing that could be used as a weapon. As the Zouy began running again, looking back over his shoulder, he cut a turn too

closely and struck the edge of the wall hard with his shoulder. Pain shot through his arm as if he had been struck by lightning. So hard was the collision that part of a stone block rattled and moved a few inches, bringing a shower of stone dust down on top of him. Though he suppressed a cough, the sound of the collision itself captured his enemy’s attention. It grunted, and the thump of its footfalls grew more rapid. The monk sprinted, not bothering to look behind him any longer, only looking ahead. He took three more turns down random corridors before he stopped short. He was in some kind of chamber. It was twenty feet on either side, square, and had one opening. The one he had just come through. There was no escape, with stone blocks surrounding him and the monster quickly coming upon him. He could not see it yet, but he heard it getting closer. It seemed as if his time in this life was done. Deriding himself for thinking so despairingly, the Zouyim master snapped his mind back into focus. He went through all his available options and decided on the one that would give him the best chance of surviving. Without another thought, he ran at top speed. Back toward the approaching creature. He had barely made it out of the chamber when he caught sight of the greenish-brown scaled beast. Its massive bulk filled the corridor. Close to seven

feet tall and at least five feet wide, it moved with a fluidity that belied its squat form. Its feet were thick and wedge-shaped, coming to a point at the toe. Dal had seen what that toe had done to Chilk Triss just moments before. The creature had kicked the Zouy and the toe had acted like an ax, splitting the monk almost completely in two. He had died instantly. The tree trunk legs of the beast pumped, moving the barrel-shaped body toward Dal. Its arms, each carrying a multi-bladed weapon, readied themselves to strike when it saw the remaining Zouyim monk. A wicked grin split the fang-filled mouth that took up more than half the bestial face. Yellow, gimlet eyes locked onto Dal and glittered. Chetra Dal dove past the creature, spinning in mid-air and barely dodging the blows from the weapons aimed at him. He rolled smoothly to his feet and was running again before his adversary had even turned. Its bellows pursued him down the corridor. Dal knew he had only moments to live unless he executed his plan perfectly. Glancing quickly toward the beast, he darted through a short corridor and under an archway he had seen moments before. Here was where he would make his stand. His senses told him to duck and he did so, feeling the wind of one of the monster’s weapons pass just above his head. The blades, arranged in a

pattern much like the boughs on a pine tree along the main shaft of the weapon, whistled as it cut the air. The Zouyim master knew he couldn’t dodge the next blow. He would have to act now. Dal separated himself from the material world, sinking deep into his core. He focused on the center of energy just below his navel and drew up all the power he could muster, both from himself and from his surroundings. With a sharp exhalation, he channeled all the rohw through his hands and struck at the archway with both palms, one over the other, hoping he had acted in time. The creature’s other weapon failed to strike Chetra Dal. As soon as the Zouy struck the archway, the massive blocks making the top of the opening began to fall, one of them deflecting the blow that would have ended his life. The world seemed silent and calm for a moment, and then the roar of falling stone surrounded him and the monk dove clear, desperate to escape being trapped himself. He landed roughly on his side, pain shooting up through his torso and making his vision narrow at the sides, but then he regained his perception. Peering through the dust filling the air, he let out a sigh of relief. The creature was pinned by tons of rock, only parts of one leg, a shoulder, and its head showing up through the rubble. It wriggled, trying to free its arms, but it was unable to get loose. Its

grunts seemed as much from frustration as from anger. Chetra Dal knew what he must do. His fellow monks had tried to pierce the creature’s hide with their swords, to no avail. Its skin was too thick to be cut. There was but one thing to be done. He hoped it would be enough. He knew that eventually the beast would free itself, and then nothing would stop it from killing him. Dal walked slowly to where his adversary was trapped, eyes scanning the scene for any sign it could actually move to attack. He looked into the creature’s eyes. “I am not sure if you understand my language or not,” Chetra Dal said in Ancient Kasmali, a language that had not been spoken in hundreds, if not thousands, of years. By the cessation of its movements and the narrowing of its eyes, it seemed that the monster did understand. “I know you are performing your task, your duty. You are to be commended for your commitment. However, I cannot allow you to kill me. I have work still to do in this life. Please know that I respect your task and honor you.” The monk saluted the beast, right fist cradled inside the left hand, both held out in front of his chest as he bowed. The Zouyim master breathed deeply for a moment, generating as much energy as he could.

His body warmed and his hands began to glow. The creature’s eyes widened at first, and then it relaxed. It let out a huff of air and its sad eyes dropped to the cavern floor. Failure, the Zouyim master thought, was something felt by all intelligent creatures. Dal made a few motions with his hands, concentrating his energy even further. Then, with lightning speed, he struck the top of the beast’s head with the open palm of his right hand. The monster’s eyes became unfocused, but still held the light of life. Three more strikes to the same spot, alternating the right and the left hands, did more damage. Finally, the last strike broke through and the monster’s head caved in, its eyes glazed over, and it ceased moving altogether. It was done. The monk regretted causing the creature pain, but using his energy to the full could still not kill it in one blow. He had done the best he could. Chetra Dal bowed weakly to the corpse once more and looked around. It would take quite a bit of exploring to regain the chamber in which they had first found the creature, but he would persevere for as long as it took. The guardian was obviously left to protect something of great value. Now that it had been defeated, the monk would see what it was. Three hours later, Master Chetra Dal found his

way back to the small chamber in which the bodies of his fellow monks still rested. Sadness radiated through his body like a winter chill. If only they had thought more quickly, perhaps one or more of his friends would still be alive. There was a lesson there. He would meditate upon it when he returned to the temple, and he would make sure to note it in one of his books of wisdom for the temple disciples. Wisdom was hard-gained, and the honorable man shared it with whomever would accept it. Master Dal turned to the end of the chamber, where they had first spotted the guardian. On a simple shelf carved into the stone wall itself, he found a box. He ran his fingers over it, the carvings smooth under his touch. He was not sure what they depicted, whether words or simple designs. It had once been wood but had fossilized. Only three hand spans wide and perhaps two high, it seemed a small thing for the death it had caused. Grasping the cover, the monk opened the lid. As he raised it, there was a hiss of air escaping. Within were five scrolls rolled upon wooden cylinders, which also felt as if they had turned to stone. The scrolls were exquisitely made from some natural fiber, but it seemed to be woven of many fine threads, tight and perfect and in the same condition as the day they went into the box. The Zouy began to skim the scrolls to get a general sense of what secrets they revealed. They

were written in Ancient Kasmali, which made him recall that the guardian had understood him when he spoke that dead language. He was only part-way down the first scroll when his eyes widened and his heart began to beat faster. The scrolls explained an energy, related to the rohw but superior. He had never heard of this energy, called awkum, before. He would have to study these scrolls carefully. Perhaps he would be responsible for expanding the Zouyim Order’s understanding of universal energy. He would study them in secret, master the knowledge written there, and then he would share it. Until then, he would not tell anyone about what he had found. He would, most of all, have to make sure it was safe for others. He was a master, with the experience and wisdom to investigate things such as this. If it was safe to use, then others would benefit from what he had learned, but not until then. Bowing to his fallen brothers, Chetra Dal put the scrolls into his pack and navigated the twisting corridors to the outside world. He would have much to study when he got back home to the Zouyim temple. Anxious to begin, he forced his weary feet to speed him home.

CHAPTER 1

T

he bhorgabir assassin Vahi scrutinized Chetra Dal, who had just returned from Iboghan. The old man held in his hands the two artifacts his apprentice Ayim Rasaad had been hunting. Chetra Dal spoke. “I am afraid Ayim is no more. She was defeated by those who were hunting her.” Dal’s face was wrinkled, but his thick body seemed much younger. He was old, in his late eighties, but he still moved with the grace of someone decades younger. Head swiveling toward Vahi, yellow eyes locking onto the assassin, he held the bell and drum artifacts in his withered, veincovered hands. “I retrieved the artifacts Azgo and Orum, so all is not lost,” the old man said. “We have but to

obtain the last artifact, Bruqil, and our success will be complete.” Vahi’s large dark eyes met Dal’s yellow. “How did it come about that Rasaad was lost but the artifacts were not?” The acrid odor of torch smoke lingered on the older man’s clothing. That and the sharp tang of blood, along with a dank, wet odor— a scent that made Vahi think of deep tunnels— assaulted the bhor’s acute sense of smell. Chetra Dal gave Vahi an account of what happened. He told it without inflection or flair, but as a simple interchange of information. Still, Vahi could picture the scene as the story unfolded. To his keen mind, it was as vivid as if he were there himself. They were in Iboghan, in a cavern far below the surface of the land. The chamber in which they fought was littered with stalagmites, and the torch light flickered, causing the scene to have a surreal quality, almost as if not fully solid. While two of the small party opposing Ayim Rasaad held her soldiers at bay in the narrow opening to the cavern, the woman herself fought against Rindu Zose, the Zouyim monk; Nalia Wroun, the Sapsyr; and Sam Sharp, a man from another world who was reported to be the “Hero of Gythe.” Meanwhile, a small furry creature, a hapaki, stood guard over the two artifacts he had pilfered from Rasaad before she could react.

Rasaad, once a Zouyim monk and briefly one of the Arzbedim, was more now, able to meld her physical fighting abilities with her use of the rohw, the vibrational power all Zouyim used. In addition, she used the awkum Dal had taught her to use, a power in many ways the opposite of the rohw and in many ways more powerful. Her opponents were no match for her. Rindu Zose had tried to use his rohw to push Rasaad, but his impotent energy attacks merely slid off the shields she had constructed. His defenses were not so potent, however, and Dal’s apprentice lifted Rindu with her power and hurled him across the cavern. Nalia Wroun and Sam Sharp had no more success in hurling their useless energy at Rasaad. Chetra Dal, cloaked in shadows of his awkum, watched his apprentice. If the woman could defeat the enemies, then so be it. If not, he would step in and aid her. At the appropriate moment. In the meantime, he would watch and see what unfolded. It seemed to him that Rasaad would handily defeat them. They could not contend with the power that was unfamiliar to her opponents. Dal saw Ayim Rasaad gather the power within herself for a final, deadly assault. Soon now, soon. He watched with interest as the three arrayed against her. From the side of his vision, he saw a glow. Sam

was gathering his own power within himself. Not awkum, but rohw. He had strength, this one, but still not enough to break Rasaad’s shields. He would die along with his two friends. The ex-Zouyim master tilted his head and looked more carefully. What was Sam doing? He was not gathering his power for an attack, neither for a defense. He reached out, trying to connect to… As Chetra Dal watched, Sam’s intention became clear. But Dal was too late. Sam’s energy encompassed Rindu and then Nalia, and then the power from the other two slid perfectly into synchronization with his. They became one harmonious well of rohw, shining like the sun. Dal realized at that point that Rasaad was lost. More, he was not sure even he could withstand the onslaught of such force. He watched in horror as Sam directed the rohw to batter Rasaad’s shields. No, not batter. His power swept her impervious barrier away as a leaf in a strong wind. But it could not harm her. So perfectly balanced were the two opposing forces that they nullified each other. It would remain so, unless Sam chanced upon a revelation about how to use his power. He seemed to learn quickly, figuring things out intuitively. Any second he might determine the correct path. No, it was too risky for Chetra Dal to engage in

a battle with so many unknown elements. The wiser course would be to retreat and regroup, fighting when the odds were surer. Though the loss of his apprentice was unfortunate, the important thing was to get the artifacts. As he distracted the hapaki with a small use of power, causing a stalactite to fall near it, Dal swept up the artifacts and moved further into the shadows at the edge of the chamber. While he prepared to use Azgo, the bell, to teleport away, he witnessed Nalia Wroun battle physically with Ayim Rasaad as the other two combatants focused on keeping Rasaad’s shields down. Just before Dal winked out of the chamber and appeared in his own fortress, the Sapsyr defeated Rasaad, separating her head from her body. Chetra Dal finished his account and dipped his head. “Perhaps we could have defeated the three together, but it was far from certain. I alone am left to wield the awkum and the rohw and could not chance both of us being killed. It was unfortunate, but necessary, I think.” “I believe you are correct,” Vahi said. “I have observed these and have battled with other Zouyim. They can be very resourceful, I think. We will have another chance, and now we have two of the three artifacts.” “Yes, yes.” Dal sounded like he was convincing himself. “But now we must plan. We must get to

the third and final artifact, Bruqil the tuning fork, before our adversaries do. Once we have all three, we can destroy this new government at will, fortress or no. Summon Tingai for me. We have planning to do, and he will have a part.” Vahi bowed, his long, gangly body bending almost double, and then turned on his heels and left the room. There would be killing soon, and he would be in the middle of it. As he should be. It was, after all, what his people were created for.

CHAPTER 2

“S

o, what do we do now?” Sam Sharp asked no one in particular. He paced the library that Dr. Walt had taken as his base of operations. Rindu Zose the Zouyim master and Nalia Wroun, last of the Sapsyra Shin Elah sat at one of the long tables. Dr. Walt was there, too, of course. He rarely left the room. “I am at a loss as well,” Rindu answered. “When we obtained the drum artifact Orum before Ayim Rasaad, I believed we had succeeded in halting her plans to use them to take control of all Gythe and set herself up as its ultimate ruler. After we defeated her and then found both rohw artifacts missing, all that we knew changed.” Rindu was as solid as ever, despite his hesitation. He reminded Sam of a huge stone that could weather all storms without so much as

shifting. His expressionless face, slightly tilting dark eyes flanking a wide, flat nose, didn’t betray the uncertainty Sam felt. “It is still a mystery to me how the artifacts disappeared,” Nalia Wroun said. “How was someone able to snatch them from beneath our very feet?” Her beautiful face took on a cast of irritation as her delicate nose crinkled in distaste. Sam shook his head, disgusted. “We had them, both of them. All we had to do was to keep track of the items. I should have been paying more attention.” No, Sam, Skitter sent to his mind. It was my fault. I had them in my possession, but in watching the battle between you and Ayim Rasaad, I let my attention shift. They were right next to me, and I never saw the thief who took them. Sam had almost forgotten that Skitter was in the room, too. He bent to look under the table and saw the hapaki’s stocky, brown-furred body curled up on the floor. His wise little face, nose pointed and whiskered like a cross between a raccoon and a lemur, turned toward the human. Sam and Skitter could communicate mind-to-mind through a mixture of feelings, the normal way hapaki communicated, and words, Sam’s human method for expressing himself. I think we’re all to blame, really, Sam amended, sending along feelings of sadness and

disappointment. We thought Rasaad was the only enemy to worry about. We had no idea there was another one. “What is done is done,” Rindu said, cutting to the heart of the matter. “The milk should not cry over the cracked eggs.” Three human heads and one hapaki swiveled to look at the Zouy. “I think you may have mixed two sayings up,” Sam said to him. “I think what you’re looking for is ‘you shouldn’t cry over spilled milk.’” “Ah, yes. Of course. That makes much more sense.” Sam had given the Zouyim monk a gift of several books of “wisdom.” Rindu was fond of quoting wisdom from old masters, so Sam brought him the books from Telani, also called Earth, the world from which Sam came. Rindu was trying to learn English so he could translate the books into Kasmali, the language spoken on Gythe, but his grasp of the language was tenuous. It made for some confusing, and often humorous, phrases. “The point is,” Dr. Walt said in his British accent, “there is but one artifact left, and we need to find it first. If our adversary obtains it and uses the three together, we would not be able to withstand his power.” The doctor shook his grizzled head, white mane flying as if in a windstorm. He pushed his glasses further up onto his nose. “That’s the other thing,” Sam said. “We’re not

even sure who or what we’re fighting against.” “According to Lahim, we do know the name of the one who took the two artifacts,” Dr. Walt pointed out. Lahim Chode was a seer, a man with the ability to remote view events, as he explained it. His glimpses of places and times were sometimes helpful, sometimes confusing, and sometimes downright frustrating. He said he had obtained information about their foe, though Sam wasn’t sure yet how reliable the information was. He didn’t doubt that Chode had talent and saw things, but he doubted the interpretations at times. “Chetra Dal,” Sam said. As he did so, he looked to Rindu. The Zouy had reacted strangely when he heard the name from Lahim Chode just a few hours before. He and the other Zouyim master Torim Jet had said they knew the person. Rindu’s face was normally all but unreadable. There was emotion there now—his eyes round, nostrils flaring, mouth slightly parted. “You knew Chetra Dal, Master Rindu?” Rindu’s eyes pointed toward the stone wall of the library but looked as if they were focused on something outside the room, hundreds of yards away. He was silent for a moment. Turning his eyes toward Sam and focusing them, he spoke. “Chetra Dal was a great Zouyim master. He was instrumental to my training in my

younger days at the temple, but not just mine. He influenced everyone who met him. He had an aura of peace and wisdom about him that even those not sensitive to the rohw felt. “The brothers tried on more than one occasion to make him Grandmaster of the Zouyim. He always refused, stating that others were better suited for the position. Still, the Grandmasters rarely made an important decision without consulting Master Dal. He was the wisest and most powerful man I have ever known. “He it was who taught me what it means to be a Zouy, and he it was who showed me how to walk the path, the wireh. My calligraphy brushes and supplies were Master Dal’s, and he taught me everything I know about the characters of Syray and the art of writing them to come into harmony with the rohw.” Rindu’s expression drooped, becoming sadder than Sam had ever seen it. “When I was but fifteen years old, Master Dal went on a dangerous mission. He never returned. Word of his death reached the temple, and we mourned his passing for several weeks. We could not believe he was gone. The Zouyim Order lost much that day.” The others were quiet, waiting to see if Rindu would continue. After a moment, he shook his head as if to clear the memories. “I find it impossible to believe he is

responsible for any evil. That he lives is possible because I could believe that even death could not defeat my master, but to work against us, against all Gythe? This I cannot believe. Perhaps Lahim Chode saw what he has told us, but there must be a misunderstanding in what he observed. Master Chetra Dal could not be the power behind the wickedness we have seen.” Wood crackled in the fireplace. The others looked at each other in silence, none wanting to be the first to speak. Finally, Dr. Walt cleared his throat. “I am sure there’s a logical explanation for it, Rindu. Maybe we should focus on the artifact itself, and this other matter will resolve itself. No matter who it is we are fighting against, one thing is clear. He is trying to gather the last of the artifacts so the three can be used together to destroy the government we are working so hard to create. If we prevent him from using the three together, we will succeed, whoever he is.” “It is so,” Rindu said, regaining his normal stoic, expressionless demeanor. “I don’t know about the rest of you,” Sam said, “but I’m tired from all the running and battles and other things that have happened today. I think I’m going to try to get some sleep and tackle this problem tomorrow. Maybe after sleep, things will be clearer.”

“That sounds like the right idea, Sam,” Dr. Walt said. “Perhaps we can get together after breakfast and talk more about what we have to do. Time is of the essence, but a few hours of sleep will give us a new perspective.” Everyone agreed and headed off to their own chambers to sleep. In the morning, thought Sam, we can start fresh. Maybe things will seem simpler. They couldn’t get any more complex. Of that he was sure.

CHAPTER 3

T

he next four days were interminable. Sam was on edge the entire time, wanting to do something, but not knowing what he could do. Without information about the last artifact’s location, he and the others had no clear course. Emerius was as tense as his bowstring, stalking around and snapping at any who talked to him. Any except Ix. The hunter and the assassin seemed to have become friends. Sam didn’t spend much time with either of them, though. He spent most of his day helping Dr. Walt, looking through the libraries for information about Bruqil. He squeezed in lessons with Rindu and some sparring with Nalia, but barely. He was thankful he could. Without those outlets to his pent-up energy, he would have gone mad.

There was an insistent sound trying to crack the shell of Sam’s thoughts. “I say, Sam, did you hear me? Sam?” Dr. Walt said. “Oh. What? I’m sorry Dr. Walt, I was just going over some things in my mind. What did you say?” “It’s quite all right, my boy. I understand. I said that Lahim is here. He says he has had a viewing.” Sam’s head snapped up. Lahim Chode had come into the library and was leaning on his walking stick. The man really did look healthier. Aside from his limp, which Sam was sure would disappear completely in time, he was the picture of health. With his face fleshed out and his hair cut and neatly combed, he hardly looked like the crazed seer he appeared to be when Sam first met him. “Hi, Lahim,” Sam said, waving at the man. “How are you? You are looking fit as a fiddle these days.” The seer looked at Sam quizzically. Okay, maybe that wasn’t a saying in Gythe. “Thank you,” he said with the slightest hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure if it was a compliment. “I just wanted to tell you”—he motioned to Dr. Walt, Torim Jet, and Rindu—“and the others, that I have had a viewing. I’m not sure how much it will help, though.” “That is wonderful, Lahim Chode,” Rindu said.

“Please, sit here while you tell us.” He took a small stack of books off the cushioned chair beside him. Chode took the seat while whispering his gratitude. “It is a partial vision, mind you, something that makes no sense to me yet, but I am hoping it will become clear later on. I have been trying to find the last artifact, the tuning fork Bruqil, but with remote viewing you cannot consciously focus on something to see it. You have to do it in a…roundabout way. I have to convince myself I am not looking for something, while still allowing the deeper part of my mind know that I am in fact looking for it. It’s a difficult thing. In any case, I think I have seen the hiding place of the artifact.” Sam couldn’t contain himself. “That’s great, Lahim. How can you say it won’t be helpful? That’s exactly what we’ve been looking for.” The seer’s downcast eyes made Sam realize that the information probably wasn’t exactly what he had been wishing for. “I saw a doorway. It was large, maybe twice as high and twice as wide as the double doors to this library. It was made of stone, but it was also not of stone. It blended into the surrounding rock, but as it opened, it glimmered as if lit from within. I caught glimpses of snow surrounding it, and a crystal clear lake that was perfectly still just to the side of it. “Then, I saw through the door to a tunnel that

seemed to have been bored from the rock of the mountain, cut with such precision that I didn’t see any chisel marks at all. My vision skipped then to a chamber located further into the tunnel. I felt danger but did not see it, and then I was in the room, standing before a pedestal, which held the tuning fork in a depression perfectly fitted to it. There was light all around it, as if sunlight poured through a hole somewhere to fall upon the artifact, but I saw no hole in the rock. That was all. My vision ended there.” Sam understood now the seer’s caution about the information. It really didn’t tell them anything useful. All those gathered in the room were silent for a long moment. Finally, Dr. Walt spoke up. “Thank you, Lahim. As you say, the information may not help us right now, but put together with other information we find, it may be the key to determining the location we are looking for.” The scholar was still scribbling on a piece of paper in front of him, no doubt his notes about the vision. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more,” Lahim Chode said. “I will keep trying to find more information. It is frustrating at times, this power of mine.” Sam put his hand on the seer’s shoulder. “I’m sure the information will be very helpful once we’re able to tie all the clues together. Thank you.

Will you stay for a few minutes and have something to eat, maybe chat with us?” Chode smiled at Sam. “Yes, I think that would be nice. I can spare a few moments before going back and trying again.” After Lahim Chode and the two Zouyim left, Sam sat heavily onto one of the chairs. “This is driving me crazy,” he said to Dr. Walt. “We are just sitting around while Chetra Dal is heading toward the last artifact. I’m sure he already knows where it is. He doesn’t seem to be the type that would initiate a series of actions unless he had planned and obtained all the information he needed from the start.” “I understand, Sam. I can’t help but feel like it is my failure. I’ve spent my life searching for knowledge, and now the one piece of information that could save this world eludes me as if all my research skills amount to nothing.” The two sat silently for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, staring at the tables in front of them until Dr. Walt spoke. “I just wish we could read the data files from those machines you found in the library at Roswell. I mean Kawkibon.” Sam’s eyes lit up. “That’s right. Those things are like computers. Maybe if we figured out how to make them work, we could get more information. They don’t deteriorate like books do, so I bet

there’s a lot stored that we haven’t seen yet. Why don’t we give it a try?” Dr. Walt had no better idea, so the two of them went to where Sam had teleported the entire library. He had found the collection of records in a buried research facility near where Roswell, New Mexico was in Telani. It was ironic, Sam thought, that the location would be significant in both worlds. The Old Kasmali name here in Gythe, Kawkibon, meant star rock, or meteorite. Using his rohw abilities, Sam had teleported the entire library to a huge room in the fortress. Dr. Walt had searched many of the books and files, all in pristine condition because the whole research facility had been sealed tight, but hadn’t found the information they needed. Just inside the doorway, Sam stepped up to the closest desk. A flat screen, much like a computer monitor, projected upward from the desktop, and a cube measuring ten inches or so square with a circular hole on the top sat beside it. Sam stared at it, wondering what to do to make it turn on. They had done this before, staring at the ancient machines, trying to figure out how to use them. They didn’t even have any visible power cords. What’s more, the data—or so they believed —was stored in little solid cylinders. The data objects fit perfectly into holes in the computers themselves, but putting them in didn’t cause the

machines to go on. Sam was perplexed. He sat down on the chair in front of the desk. “So,” Sam said, “these are probably some kind of computers.” “Agreed,” Dr. Walt said. “The computers we know need a few things. Power, for starters, but also a display, which—” he pointed to the screen coming up out of the desk “— I think this is. Then, there’s an input device like a mouse or keyboard.” “Unless it’s voice activated,” Dr. Walt said. “In that case, we would need only power and connections to the monitor.” “Unless the monitor connects wirelessly,” Sam added. “Is such a thing possible?” “Of course,” Sam said. “Oh, I forgot, you’ve been in Gythe for a long time. Wireless connections for computers are common now on Telani, though I haven’t seen wireless monitors.” Dr. Walt scratched his head “Right. Just power then.” “Look at this plate set into the surface of the desk,” Sam said, running his finger over a slick plate about half the size of a normal keyboard. “There’s a light layer of dust over everything that has accumulated since I moved the library here to the fortress, but none of it is on the plate. It’s like it repels dust.”

“My word,” Dr. Walt said, readjusting the glasses on his nose. “You’re right. Fascinating.” “Look at the monitor,” Sam continued. “It’s thinner than any monitor I’ve ever seen. It looks like it should be bending under its own weight, only as thick as maybe twenty sheets of paper, but it’s strong enough that I can’t bend or budge it.” He ran his finger over the top edge of the monitor. “Dust is on the top of it, but none is on the screen itself.” “That material looks the same as the plate on the desk. Is it some sort of polymer?” “I think so,” Sam said. “It’s certainly not stone, ceramic, metal, or wood. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It’s very slippery.” “Hmm, yes,” Dr. Walt said as he ran his finger over the monitor first, and then the desk plate. “Power,” Sam said, tapping his forehead with his index finger. “There are no cords, no place to plug one in, nothing. I don’t hear or sense any kind of whining or vibration, either.” Dr. Walt stared at the box. “If they truly are computers, they would also need some type of processing unit, a brain. And internal memory, possibly in addition to external storage.” “I think it’s pretty clear all the little cylinders on the shelves are storage units,” Sam said. “They fit exactly into the holes on the top of the computer boxes. As for the other things, those would be inside the box. Except there doesn’t appear to be a

way to open them up to see what’s inside. It seems solid and smooth.” He picked it up and shook it hard. “Nothing rattles or moves when I shake it, either.” “It seems they are literally black boxes.” Dr. Walt laughed. Sam looked at him. “Ahem, sorry. A little science humor.” “When we first stepped into the facility,” Sam told Dr. Walt, “there was a hiss as of air escaping… or being sucked in. I think the entire wing had been vacuum-sealed to prevent deterioration. Each room seemed to act as an airlock; we heard the hiss with each new room we entered except the ones that had collapsed or been breached in some way. Even the computers back home would last forever in an environment like that. I bet they still work, if we can puzzle out how to give them power and start them.” Dr. Walt’s brow furrowed. “That sounds reasonable.” Sam frowned at the screen. He had a feeling he was missing something. Something important. He thought through it all again and came up with the same result. “Can you please hand me one of those cylinders, Dr. Walt?” he asked finally. The older man took one of the cylinders from the rack closest to him and handed it over. Sam turned it in his hand, inspecting it for any seam, any

defect or blemish. He found none, not even a scratch. It was smooth, like some type of plastic, but it didn’t feel cool like he would have expected. It wasn’t warm, either. He touched the surface of the desk and then the cylinder again. The desk felt cool to the touch, but the little device seemed to be temperature-neutral, like a stack of paper. Sam tapped it lightly on the edge of the tabletop. It did not sound hollow, nor did it seem to have parts within it. “Must be some kind of solid-state technology,” Sam said. With nothing left to do, he carefully inserted it into the hole in the computer. It fit perfectly with not a hair’s breadth around the edge. It sat exactly flush with the surface of the computer, almost disappearing as if part of the box itself. He realized with a start that he didn’t know how to get it out of the hole. He picked the box up, turned it upside down, and shook it. The cylinder stayed put. Sam looked at Dr. Walt, concern on his face. “Any ideas? I’d rather not pry it out with a knife. I’d probably damage the computer and the cylinder.” Dr. Walt stared at the box for a moment and then shook his head. “No idea.” Sam put the box down again. “Maybe there’s a release. If I push it,” he put his finger on it to do so, “maybe it will—” There was a click before Sam

was able to press down. The cylinder slowly rose an inch, enough for Sam to grab and remove it. “That’s odd,” Sam said, rolling the cylinder in his fingers again. “I’d say. I would think that type of mechanical mechanism would wear out with the use these machines probably had.” “No. It’s not mechanical. I never actually pressed down. But that’s not the strangest part. As I brushed it with my finger, I could swear that it… reached back. I don’t know how to explain it, but it seemed to take something from me, some little bit of heat or energy.” “Fascinating,” Dr. Walt said. Sam put the cylinder back and put his finger lightly on the top of it once more, focusing on what he felt as he did so. The cylinder ejected once again. “Yes, it definitely took something from me. I think it leeched a bit of my rohw.” “Are you proposing that these machines are actually powered by rohw, Sam?” “I think maybe they are,” Sam said, tapping his index finger on his lips. “Let me try something.” Sam closed his eyes for a moment and pictured the rohw energy that constantly swirled throughout the pathways in his body. Keeping his lids closed, he put his hand on the small pad in front of him. In his mental picture, he saw his rohw eddy and whirl about his palm. Then he watched as it was sucked

into the pad. It seemed to tug at his skin, pulling a little bit of himself into the pad. The box emitted a hum as of something coming to life. He opened his eyes in time to see a string of Old Kasmali words flash across the screen, and then a hologram burst out from it. It was a woman’s head, and she was speaking. Sam only caught one of every five words, but he understood a bit more of the text scrolling across the air in front of him. It seemed he was being given the choice for voice interaction or text. As he moved his hand on the pad, different areas of the hologram lit up. It not only moved from side to side, but somehow it tracked three-dimensionally. He marveled as a miniature version of his hand circled the woman’s head when he shifted his real hand only slightly. The computer seemed to combine his intentions and his minor adjustments in position on the pad. Though it should have been difficult to control—he was used to keyboards and mice, after all—it all seemed intuitive and easy. He liked it. He looked to Dr. Walt, knowing that his own face showed amazement as much as the scholar’s wide eyes and slightly parted mouth did. “I think maybe we have found something,” he said through a smile.

CHAPTER 4

W

ithin an hour, Sam had gathered the three Zouyim and Nalia and brought them down to the “new library.” The four arranged themselves around him at the desk he’d been using when he discovered how to use the ancient computers. “I’m not sure exactly how to explain it,” he said to them, “but these machines are powered by rohw. By rohw from the user himself.” He saw Nalia eyeing him and amended, “or herself.” She nodded, and her mouth quirked into a tiny smile. “I should have figured it out. Those plates on the doors in the library sucked rohw from me and activated using my own energy. It’s the same concept, only with lower power requirements.” “I have never heard of such a thing,” Rindu said, stepping up to the desk. “I have never even

read of it or thought it possible.” “It was a surprise when I discovered it…again.” Sam sat down and faced the monitor. “I’ll show you what I did, and maybe you can see something I missed. Especially watch my hand as I put it here to activate the computer.” As Sam placed his hand on the little pad, the box hummed and the familiar text appeared on the monitor, soon followed by the hologram projection. He heard at least one quick intake of breath from behind him. He tilted his head toward the rear so everyone could hear him more clearly as he manipulated through the space in the hologram and circled the woman’s head, demonstrating how to use the system. “You can move like this through the information stored on the computer. The little cylinders carry what is probably thousands of books worth of accumulated knowledge. From what I’ve seen, it’s all in Old or Ancient Kasmali. I think the machine automatically turns off when you break the connection, like this.” He removed his hand from the pad, and the hologram disappeared at the same time the screen went blank. “It is like the computer you had at our home in Telani,” Nalia said, “but different, too, with no keyboard, no mouse.” Rindu, Torim Jet, and Palusa Filk all wore expressions that were a mix between confusion and

open astonishment. “Those little cylinders can hold thousands of books? Each?” Torim Jet asked. “That means that this room contains the knowledge of millions of tomes. Is there so much information in all the world?” Sam turned in the chair to face the Zouy. “That’s just a guess. I’m not sure how much information is in each, or if they’re full to capacity or mostly empty. I just based it on computers from my world. I’ve done very little in the way of exploring. I wanted to show you all first so we can all search.” “And you have chosen us because of our abilities with the rohw?” Rindu asked. Sam nodded. “Yes. I believe anyone can use the machines—I don’t think the entire world was filled with rohw users when these were made—but we’ll have to puzzle that out later. Dr. Walt already tried placing his hand on the pad and nothing happened. For now, we will have to help him out. How about it? Will you use them with me?” Palusa Filk stepped up to the desk next to Sam’s. “Of course. It is like a dream to have all that ancient information beneath our hands. May I try now?” Sam’s smile grew wider. He spent the next few minutes walking around and coaching the others. Soon, all four were

happily moving through the holograms projected in front of them. Dr. Walt hovered over Rindu’s shoulder, asking the monk to explore this part or that of the matrix in front of him. Nalia had used computers during her stay on Telani, so she was already staring in front of her, the tip of her tongue peeking out of the side of her mouth. A warm tickle traveled up Sam’s spine and lodged in his head. She only did that when using computers, and he found it adorable. Torim Jet and Palusa Filk needed a little more help, which Sam provided. The older monk’s eyes were watery. “Perhaps the information lost to the Zouyim when the temple was destroyed is within these machines. By the universal rohw, it would lighten my old heart to know that it is not gone forever.” Sam understood the sentiment. “Master Torim, we will bring one of the computers to the new temple when it is built.” A tear slid down the old monk’s face. “Truly, Sam? That would be wonderful. Oh, to see the temple rebuilt and the library restored, even increased, before I die. It is more than I had hoped or dreamed.” “Maybe we can even figure out how to put new things in, such as the book you have been reading. The one by Master Dal.” Sam paused. Why had he never made that connection? “Is that book written

by the same Chetra Dal we’re fighting against?” Rindu answered firmly, “I still cannot believe Master Dal would stray so far from the wireh. It must be another with the same name, even one who took the respected name for some nefarious purpose.” “Okay, okay,” Sam raised his arms up. “I meant no disrespect. I had just never thought about the author of the book before now. It’s not important. What we really need is to find information about Bruqil so we can get it before our adversary, whatever his real name.” Apparently placated, the monk looked back to his computer and continued searching. They searched for the next two days. It was difficult for all of them to focus on their goal. Between trying to figure out the filing system of the data and how to navigate the operating system itself, there was distraction enough, but they constantly found interesting information that had nothing to do with their search. Their varying familiarity with Old and Ancient Kasmali also affected the speed at which they could explore. The first time one of them came across an image rather than text, everyone stopped to stare. Palusa Filk had somehow opened up a threedimensional image of the fortress they were in. The detail was incredible, down to the grain in the black stone from which the fortress had been made. They

could zoom in and out on the image and turn it about as if it was a model they held in their hands. After ten minutes of virtual exploration, Rindu cleared his throat. “We have a goal, something for which we search. I am fascinated by what you have found, but we must focus on what we mean to do.” Sam wasn’t the only one who flushed. “Yes, yes,” Dr. Walt said. “You are quite right, Rindu. We must find the location of the artifact.” “Try to save that file, or figure out its location so we can get back to it,” Sam said. “That will be useful in the future. We still haven’t explored the entire keep.” Late in the second day, they found what they had been looking for. “Nawrpul,” Dr. Walt read from the file displayed on the computer Rindu was operating. “That is the name of the area in which the last artifact is located.” The others had left their desks and gathered around Rindu and Dr. Walt. They all studied the hologram in front of them. It depicted jagged mountains, rugged terrain, and deep snow unmarred by any visible tracks. “Apparently,” the doctor continued, “this location is north of us, and east. On the other side of the mountain range that separates the west coast of this land mass from the rest of the continent.” He

looked at Sam. “It looks to be well into what is Canada on Telani. From the information in this file, I would say it is approximately where Banff National Park is in our world.” Dr. Walt nodded to Rindu and the image zoomed out, became a flat map rather than the three-dimensional topographical model it had been. A red dot in one location obviously marked where they had zoomed out from. “We are here.” Dr. Walt pointed to a location south and west of the dot. Sam recognized the area, nearer the ocean. “That’s great,” Sam said. “At least we have a location now. It seems like a long journey, though. I don’t know any areas near there, so we can’t teleport there. We could start at Gromarisa—the Grand Canyon—but then we would have to traverse the canyon to go north. If we started at Iboghan—Carlsbad Caverns—it would be a very long trip. It’s much shorter going straight east from here and then turning north, but to do that we’d have to cross the mountains. That seems especially difficult at this time of year.” “It will be difficult, but with Ix’s skimming to help, perhaps the mountains and the snow will not be as much of an issue,” Rindu said. “There’s that,” Sam answered. “Plus, I don’t really see any other way. We can’t wait for summer. We have to try to get there before Dal.

Anyone have any other ideas?” No one did. “Okay, I guess we have our location. What else does the file say about the artifact?” Dr. Walt had been whispering to Rindu, having him quietly move through the files on the computer to find other information. The old scholar looked up. “I don’t see any other information yet, Sam. I think we were lucky to find the scrap of information we did. It does not appear that anyone ever went looking for Bruqil. There were wars going on at the time these computers were being used, after all. I will keep looking, of course, but at this point it doesn’t seem that there is anything more than a general location. That one dot covers perhaps hundreds of miles of wilderness. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay,” Sam said. “We have enough information to start traveling. You can keep looking while we make our way toward the area, and maybe you’ll find more before we get there.” The others agreed, and they all headed up to a dining hall to eat a long-overdue meal. All that was left was to depart. During his meal, Sam asked Ix about traveling with them again to try to make it to the last artifact. She agreed without hesitation. “I think I have come up with something to help us travel faster, too. I’ll explain it to you when we’re ready to leave.” “Sounds great,” Sam said. “Anything that can

give us more speed is welcome.” Sam finished eating and got up to head to his room. Dr. Walt called to him, “Sam, I wonder if I could borrow a little of your time.” “Sure, Dr. Walt, what do you need?” “I have a meeting in a few minutes with the city leaders who remain at the fortress.” He looked uncomfortable. “I have to explain to them that an army is being built and will be heading toward us any day. I thought maybe you could provide a little moral support. If they see you confident about the future, maybe they won’t be so nervous.” Sam looked at Dr. Walt and noticed how tense the old scholar seemed. “I’m sure it’s tough dealing with all these little details. You’re doing a great job, Dr. Walt. Sure, I’ll help in any way I can.” “Thank you, Sam. I’m not the one who should be leading this development of the new government. I’m just a scholar, a researcher. I’m no politician or leader.” “Believe me,” Sam said, “I know how you feel. People keep trying to treat me like a leader, like ‘the Hero of Gythe.’ It gets tiring sometimes. I suppose we all just have to do what we have to do, though.” Dr. Walt patted Sam’s shoulder. “Yes, I believe that’s the way of it.” The older man swallowed, straightened, and started walking down the hall. “Let’s just get this over with.”

With so many different rooms in the fortress, it was no problem to set up the “New Government Meeting Hall.” It was a large room, probably meant as some type of audience chamber. It would easily fit ten times the number of delegates they had. Of the twenty-three current members of the development team—including Sam—only nine attended. It was difficult enough for community leaders to meet regularly without neglecting their duties back home, but the winter made it even more time-consuming to travel back and forth. When they started trying to recruit members from farther away, the complexity would multiply. Once the structure was complete, the logistic difficulties would lessen. Representatives from each community would be chosen, and the leaders would be free to actually lead their constituents in their own village, town, or city. They had to finish developing the structure, though. That was the rub. Dr. Walt walked into the room and began gathering the others for their discussion. Several sets of eyes locked onto Sam, and several people whispered to the closest person. He couldn’t catch most of what was said, but “Hero of Gythe” seemed to pop up with alarming regularity. He sighed. Sam looked around at those gathered. Raire and Akila Gonsh were there, of course. The co-leaders of Patchel’s Folly had rarely left the fortress since

the Council formed. They were committed to the new government as strongly as Dr. Walt was. Georg Santas, the leader of the city of Wethaven, had wedged his obese form into one of the sturdy chairs at the front. He nodded to Sam enthusiastically, making his chins jiggle as his cheeks stretched into a wide smile. Next to him, sitting perfectly erect, Fulusin Telanyahu from nearby Seamouth glanced up from her notes. She had proven to be a staunch supporter of the project although she was also the one who, by her hard questions and demand for explanations, caused the most friction. She didn’t do it maliciously. She just wanted the Council to do things right. Stumin Kile, from faraway Somas, with his silly hair style—long locks combed over and hanging down the left side of his face, the right side shorn close—had placed himself near the back of the room. Shiran Slayth, the Miray of Krysyq, chose a seat as close to the front of the room as possible. She tossed her red hair and smiled at Sam, waving with enthusiasm. Sam smiled and waved back. There were also a man and woman Sam did not recognize. The woman wore an elegant dress, almost as if she was going to a ball. The man was older, his wizened face turned toward Dr. Walt, oblivious to the whisperings about Sam. Another man was there who made Sam do a

double-take. He was big, in what looked like farmer’s clothes, with a mop of dark brown hair resting on his head like it had dropped there from the sky. His eyes met Sam’s and then he averted them. As he flicked them up again, Sam smiled at him and waved. The man—Malcolm, if Sam remembered correctly—looked surprised but then formed a small smile and waved back. He was the leader of a small town called Raihar. The last time Sam had seen him, he and a group of villagers were trying to take Sam captive because Ix had told them Sam’s party had come from the Gray Man. Sam was glad to see Malcolm representing his town. “Good evening,” Dr. Walt started, his voice loud and firm. “I would like to share with you some news. It is important for each of us in our local capacities, but more important for the new government as a whole.” The others settled into their seats and gave Dr. Walt their full attention. A few still cast glances at Sam, but mostly they sat patiently, waiting for the news. “I have spoken little about the things that have been happening the last several months because we have been occupied with trying to determine the proper method of governing our section of Gythe. The situation has become more complex now, and there are things you should know.

“We learned nearly three months ago that someone was searching for some ancient artifacts, items that would increase her power so as to allow her to become a tyrant like the Gray Man and the Arzbedim before him. In fact, Ayim Rasaad was selected for inclusion into the ranks of the rogue rohw users many years ago. She alone escaped when the Gray Man destroyed all the Arzbedim, only because he was ignorant that she had been accepted into their number.” Dr. Walt looked at each of the leaders, then at Sam. He took a deep breath and went on. “There are three artifacts, and despite our best efforts,” he motioned to Sam and all eyes swiveled to him, “she obtained two of them. Along the way, she destroyed at least two communities and nearly destroyed another city when her army passed through. She is no longer a threat, but—” Fulusin Telanyahu, the Seamouth representative, raised her slender hand. She sat with her tall frame arranged with perfect posture, waiting for Dr. Walt to acknowledge her. He did so. “Dr. Walt,” she said in a smooth, firm voice. “Are you telling us that we very nearly had another tyrant with power equal to the Gray Man ready to crush us, only one item away from doing so, and you didn’t say anything? I, for one, take offense at that.” “I understand, Fulusin. You must understand,

however, that we were working night and day trying to find information we could use to combat Rasaad and her forces. We weren’t hiding it from you, only waiting until we had sufficient knowledge to present it to you. In the end, Sam, Nalia, Rindu, and a few others defeated Ayim Rasaad. She is dead now.” There was a collective sigh in the room, but Dr. Walt was not finished. “Unfortunately, the story did not end there. After Rasaad’s forces were defeated, the two artifacts she had obtained disappeared. Someone took them. We believe we know who, and he is perhaps more dangerous than Rasaad ever was. In fact, the man, Chetra Dal, seems to have been her master.” The leaders started murmuring to each other again. “So then, you are saying we are still within one item of being at the mercy of a powerful magic user.” This was from Georg Santas, from Wethaven. His chair creaked ominously as he motioned with one large arm. “That is not comforting, Dr. Walt.” “Yes, yes,” Dr. Walt said impatiently. “Sam and the others are working on that problem right now as well. But our conversation has gone astray. Chetra Dal is the possibility of danger, a potential threat. We have time yet to defeat him. There is something else of which I must inform you. An army has been

gathered, its size at least five thousand soldiers at this time. It is coming for us.” Akila Gonsh, one of the co-leaders of Patchel’s Folly, opened her stern mouth and said, “What exactly do you mean, ‘coming for us,’ Dr. Walt? And to whom, exactly, does this army belong?” “I mean that they are on the march at this very moment. They are coming toward us, here. They are moving toward Whitehall. They intend to crush the new government before it has a chance to take root. We expect it to arrive within a few months. We assume it belongs to Chetra Dal, but we are not completely sure at this time. We thought it was Ayim Rasaad’s.” The room erupted with noise, the leaders talking, arguing, shouting with each other. Dr. Walt sat down and waited for them to calm themselves. It took a few minutes, but the noise tapered off and they looked up toward the scholar. “Now, I want you to know that we are doing what we can to prepare ourselves. Danaba Kemp is increasing the number of our own soldiers and training them. We are stockpiling food and water. We are surveying the defenses the fortress has. Remember that this is a fortress. They cannot enter it easily. “It is your choice as to whether you will remain in the fortress or go back to your communities. We believe the army will come from the south and east,

so most of you will probably not be in its path as it comes here. I will keep you informed of its progress, as well as our own. And of course, Sam and the others will continue to try to track down the last artifact and Chetra Dal to ruin his plans for domination. That is all the information I have right now. Are there any questions?” There were, of course. By the time Sam left the room with Dr. Walt, he felt like he had been put through a meat grinder. Backward. He thought he would rather be in a battle than to go through that again. “Thank you for being there, Sam,” Dr. Walt told him as they slipped out of the meeting room before anyone noticed they had gone.“As you saw, there was a lot of tension in the room. I appreciate your presence and how it deflected some of it.” “I’m glad I could help. Hopefully we’ll defeat Dal before the army has a chance to make it here, and we can somehow disperse it. We’ll do our best.” “I know you will, Sam. Thank you.” Yes, Sam thought, we’ll do our best.”But will our best be good enough?

CHAPTER 5

T

he party gathered at their normal traveling point, just inside the eastern edge of the fortress walls. Sam, Rindu, Nalia, Emerius, and Skitter were there milling about when Sam saw Ix arrive. They would not be taking the mounts because the extra bodies would only fatigue Ix more. “I have thought of a way we can increase the distance we go each day,” the assassin said to Sam as she walked up to the others. “My idea is for me to skip over the distance, making my jumps by myself. Once I have completed several of them, I will return to the group and teleport you, Sam, to the furthest point. You can learn the area, and then we can come back and you can teleport the entire group. If we do that, rather than me jumping with the whole party, I’ll be able to travel much farther

without getting too tired.” Sam thought it was a great idea, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Nalia said, “No. You will not be taking Sam to some unknown location to ambush him.” Sam looked at her with astonishment. He had thought Nalia was over her mistrust of Ix after all they’d been through in the last month. Ix seemed to take it in stride. “I figured you would argue about it. I can take Sam and Rindu, or even Sam and you, so that you will feel more comfortable. If I take more, it will only tire me out faster. It’s your choice. I’m just trying to help.” Nalia looked at Sam and then at her father. Her gaze settled back on Ix. “You will take Sam, me, and my father. Know that I will be on guard. Even if you transport us into a circle of archers, I will kill you before an arrow can reach me. If we die, so will you. If you think to teleport away again to save yourself, know that I will be holding onto you so I will travel with you. Do not try to betray us.” Ix’s smile held no warmth. “You know, Nalia, you really need to work on that suspicious streak you have. Not everyone is out to betray and kill you.” Sam cleared his throat. “So, I suppose we have a plan. Unfortunately, the areas you’ll have to go through have some of the highest mountains around, and the ones with the most snow. In my

world, they are Mount Rainier and Mount Baker. To go due east, we’ll be running into some very high elevations compared to here. How long do you think it will take to complete those first handful of jumps, Ix?” “It will take little time. Remain here. I should be back within the hour. I have to be careful because of the mountains. Once we cross those, it will go more quickly. I’ll see you in a little while.” She disappeared as the last word still hung in the air. Sam looked at Nalia. “You know, she has been a great help in what we are doing. Can you give her the benefit of the doubt?” Piercing blue-green eyes met his steel gray orbs. “No. She may convince me yet, but she has not at this point. I would rather be too suspicious than get caught unaware.” “Suspicion breeds suspicion, with the only winner being the grave,” Rindu whispered to no one in particular. Everyone else remained silent.

NALIA WAS LOUNGING in one of the chairs that had been brought out for them to use. She started as Ix appeared right where she had disappeared a little over an hour before. The Sapsyr’s shrapezi were

already halfway to the woman before Nalia stopped them. Ix shook her cloak out and stomped her feet. Snow fell from her clothing as her wind burned face scrunched up. “Ooh,” Ix said, shivering, “it’s cold up there, and snowing, in case you didn’t notice.” She looked to Nalia’s movements with her swords and raised an eyebrow. “Did I surprise you? Sorry.” “Did you see anything of Dal or his forces? How far did you get? Did you run into any trouble?” Sam asked questions faster than the woman could answer them. “No, about fifty miles, and no.” Ix smiled. She obviously thought she was being witty. “The weather is bad where I stopped, though. It’s snowing hard and visibility is not good. I thought it best to come back so you can learn that location and give us a starting point for the next series of jumps.” “Yes,” Sam agreed. “That sounds good to me. Let’s go back there, then.” He looked her up and down, then said, “Unless you want to get some warmer clothes. It’ll take me several minutes to learn the area.” The woman eyed Sam for a moment and then she nodded, a small smile creeping across her face. “Yes, actually, I think I will. Thank you. I’ll only be a moment.” She disappeared again. Nalia looked to Sam. How could he trust this

woman? She was an assassin, after all. Her employment required her to kill people. For money. Nalia wasn’t a stranger to killing, but she only did so when it was necessary, not for personal gain. That it was necessary so often made her sad, but she had obligations and duty to consider. It wasn’t just the killing, though. The woman had chosen to work for the Gray Man. Lying, stealing, murdering for money, the assassin’s whole life was based upon dishonor and the exploitation or harming of others. Why did Sam trust her so easily, as if she was an old friend? It was one of Sam’s greatest strengths and greatest weaknesses that he trusted people. It would get him in trouble someday. But she would be there to protect him, and always would be. From himself as much as from others. She looked at him, his eyes shining in the morning light reflecting off the snow and the white walls of the fortress. Her cheeks tightened as the smile dominated her face. Yes, she would protect him. She would not live her life without him, could not. Once all this business with saving the world was finished, they would go somewhere and spend time alone, with no one trying to kill them and no responsibilities. A vacation. It was something they did in Telani, and she thought she would like to try the concept here in Gythe. Ix appeared in Nalia’s line of sight as she gazed

at Sam. The insufferable woman caught her midsmile, looked surprised, and then looked behind her toward where Nalia’s eyes had been aimed. Her mouth quirked into what could have been a smile or a smirk, but then she fell expressionless so quickly Nalia was almost unsure she had seen it at all. “All set,” Ix said to Sam, turning in a circle to show heavier winter clothes she had put over her dark assassin’s garb, a pair of rabbit skin gloves, and a cloak that was considerably thicker than what she had been wearing only a short time ago. “Shall we?” Sam, Rindu, and Nalia gathered around the assassin. Emerius Dinn was sitting on a bench, glaring at the rest of them. “Oh, come on then,” Ix said to him, holding out her hand. “I don’t want you sulking all day because we left you out. One more person shouldn’t make too much of a difference in how tired I get.” The hunter’s face showed shock at first, eyes lighting up, but then his mouth set in a thin straight line as he walked toward the others. “Okay,” he said, “if you insist.” Ix winked at him. Just what was going on with those two, anyway? Nalia would have to watch them. Maybe they were plotting together. The little party grabbed different parts of the assassin and held on tight as they teleported her last location. The snow was falling heavily and the wind

bit at them, snapping cloaks and scouring exposed skin. Sam took the several minutes he had promised to learn the area. Once done, he teleported them all back to the fortress. “It will be easier if we come back here each time,” he said, “especially if the weather continues to be like that.” He turned to the assassin, “Ix, how are you feeling? Are you tired?” “I’m fine, Sam. We can do the same thing at least two or three more times today before I start to get tired. I’ll go back now and start jumping ahead.” “Be careful,” Sam told her. “With weather like that, you could run into an avalanche or slide down the mountain or something.” “I’ll be careful. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to me. That would make it tough for you to get to the third artifact. And Nalia would be so depressed she wouldn’t be able to eat for a month.” She winked again and then, in a blink, disappeared. Irritating woman. Twice more they repeated the process, each time Sam learning the final area while the rest of them shivered in the driving snow, despite the heavy winter clothing they all wore. By late afternoon, Ix was tiring and the rest of them seemed fatigued just from the constant changes in temperature. Nalia felt as if her energy had been stolen from her.

They stopped traveling for the day, discussing how far they had gone and the progress they would be able to make as they finally passed over the mountains to get to the flatter area on the other side. They were all satisfied with the day’s distance. Nalia had to admit that this new way of traveling was a good idea, even if it was Ix’s. The next day, on their third jump, they came across a little valley nestled deeply between two mountains. A scattering of buildings peeked out of the snow. Paths carved in the thick white blanket— it wasn’t snowing at the moment and apparently hadn’t all morning there—indicated that people had been moving about from one structure to another. The traffic seemed heaviest in the area surrounding the largest building in the village. Ix looked at Sam. “Well, what do you think? We can jump to the other side of the valley, missing it completely.” Sam considered, squinting his eyes to see through the glare coming off the snow. “It would be good to let these folks know about the new government, not to mention the danger if the army should try to cross the mountains, though that is a pretty low probability, I think. Plus, I would hate to miss an opportunity to get information on Dal’s forces.” “Yeah,” Emerius said, “or a chance to have another group of people try to kill us. We don’t

know who’s down there. I have never seen a community as isolated as this, not even my own.” Nalia agreed with the hunter. It was too risky to explore when they had other work to do. “Sam, we should leave. There is no reason to go there. We have business to be about.” Sam nodded absently. “I know, Nal.” She could almost see the thoughts churning in his head. “I have a feeling we should talk to these people. I don’t know what it is. Just a feeling.” Rindu stepped up to Sam. “Is it the rohw? At times, the energy reveals to us things we do not understand with our senses. Some call it intuition, but for those of us sensitive to the universal energy, it is something more.” “I don’t know. I just think we need to see what’s down there. How do they survive out here? How do they get out? It won’t take long to find out. I’ll go alone if you want, and let the rest of you stay here. I’ll be quick.” “No,” Nalia said. “If you insist on exploring like a child, I will accompany you. I would not have you fall down and hurt yourself like a clumsy oaf.” She tried to inject humor into her voice, but she knew her irritation was coming through. He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Nal. I know I can always count on you to support me.”

CHAPTER 6

A

ll of the others went with Sam, realizing that he would not relent. The way down to the village was not difficult with the snow shoes that they had brought. He, Nalia, and Rindu had the shoes Sam had brought from Telani—Rindu was using Nicole’s pair—but the other two wore cruder ones crafted by a tradesman at Whitehall. Crude, Sam thought, was probably not an accurate description. They were made from treated leather straps and flexible wood bent into the classic teardrop shape, and they were skillfully done. They weren’t the aluminum, plastic, and carbon fiber of the ones he brought, so he looked at them as being more rudimentary. He had to admit that they worked just as well and were close to the same weight. As they neared the first of the buildings, Sam

was surprised to see that they all resembled Asian structures he had seen in Telani. The gracefully sloping roofs and ornate scrollwork on the eaves made him think of pagodas he had seen pictures of back in his own world. Rindu’s eyebrow twitched as the monk surveyed the collection of structures. Sam thought the monk had told him once that many of the buildings in the temple were designed similarly, to take best advantage of the flow of rohw around them. The buildings are shaped like that to gather the rohw? Skitter sent to Sam. Yes, Sam sent back. I think so. We have buildings shaped like that on my world, too. They help with the flow of energy and they’re thought to repel bad spirits. Skitter sent skeptical thoughts at that last part. I still think tunnels with solar tubes are better, the hapaki sent. There were not many more than twenty of the buildings scattered about. They were in close proximity—most likely to reduce travel between them in the winter months with the heavy snows— and they all seemed to be arranged around a larger central building. That one must be the meeting room or community structure. Still, as close as they were, there were no people visible. The smoke coming from several of the edifices indicated someone was there, but they remained invisible.

It wasn’t until Sam, in the lead, set foot in the space between the first two buildings that two men stepped out from the main central building and padded on soft boots toward the party. The others from Whitehall bunched behind Sam, walking in the same pathway through the snow. Nalia was just behind him, with Ix and Emerius, shoulders almost touching, and Rindu close on their backs. Skitter was huddled in Sam’s backpack, as he had been for most of their travels. He wasn’t accustomed to traveling all day as he had been when Sam was in Gythe last time. Sam was taken aback at first. The men were both of medium height, one with jet black hair cut close to the scalp and the other with hair a little longer, streaked with gray. Their faces held no expression, but seemed serene and calm. They had not spoken yet. The thing that really stood out was their clothing. It was a light gray, almost dirty or sooty looking, and it consisted of loose pants, a shirt of the same color, boots that ended in laces that wrapped around the leg up to the knees, and flowing robes. They were all made of a coarse woven cloth. It also looked exactly like the clothing the Zouyim wore, except the color, which was a little darker. “Greetings, travelers,” the gray-haired man said, his mouth twitching into a tiny smile. Sam

thought it was only for their benefit. He sensed that the man probably did not typically show emotion in his expressions. Just a feeling, but it was a strong one. “It is not often we receive visitors. It has been, in fact, more than ten years since someone from outside the valley has entered here.” “Good day,” Sam said back to him. “We are traveling through the mountains and saw your village. We were curious about who would live this far from other settlements.” The man opened his mouth to speak again and stopped before he had uttered a word. Rindu had moved out from behind the hunter and assassin. As soon as the two men caught sight of him, they dropped to the ground and prostrated themselves. “Master,” they both said, “we study, we ponder, we meditate, and we wait.” It sounded to Sam to be some kind of ritual. “What is your will?” the men both asked Rindu in perfect synchronization. Rindu raised one eyebrow at the two forms in the snow in front of him. “Please, get up. I do not know what you are talking about. Please, rise.” Both men climbed shakily to their feet, a look of open wonder on their faces as if they had seen a legend made flesh. The older man spoke alone this time. “Have you come to give us our charge, to allow us to fulfill our purpose? Is the time at hand at last?” “I am afraid I am confused as to what you are

speaking about,” Rindu said. “Perhaps we should start at the beginning, such as where we are and by what names you are called.” “Of course, of course,” the man said. “I am Dilkin Turin, or Brother Dilkin, as I am called by the other brothers and sisters. I lead here, in the absence of a true Zouyim brother. Please come with me to the Order House, and we will drink tea and discuss it.” Sam looked at Rindu, a question in his eyes. Rindu gave a nearly imperceptible shrug and followed the two men toward the large building in the center of the village. Sam and the others trailed behind him. The inside of the Order House had the look of both a place for general meetings and for religious rituals to Sam. He felt a reverent sort of atmosphere inside, maybe some type of vibration. It could have been the presence of rohw, but it was different than he had ever felt, a bit strange. The main chamber was perhaps fifty feet long and half again that wide. Rugs covered the hardpacked dirt floor, and the walls were made of whole logs arranged so perfectly that there were few gaps between them. These gaps were sealed with some type of mortar. It seemed well insulated because the temperature was almost warm, welcome after the biting cold outside. There were scrolls mounted on the walls, some

depicting peaceful landscape scenes with others holding passages in Old Kasmali and in Kasmali. Some of them appeared to be bits of wisdom and admonition to put first peace and balance in all things. At the front of the room, opposite the door through which they entered, a table held a large pot surrounded by several smaller pots. Each of those had sand in them, and sticks of incense bristled like tiny spikes. Some of the incense smoldered, creating a sweet-smelling haze that hung over the chamber. The two men led the party through a door to an adjoining room, this one containing a large table with eight chairs. It looked to be some type of meeting room. “Please, sit,” Dilkin said. “Brother Mosian will make tea as we talk.” Rindu chose a seat and the little party sat around him. Rindu introduced himself—receiving a bow from both brothers—and the others followed suit. After stepping into yet another room to put on a large kettle to heat water, the other man busied himself in bringing out cups and a glazed ceramic container of tea leaves. Brother Dilkin faced Rindu, still unable to maintain eye contact, and bowed his head. “As I said, I am Brother Dilkin. The village in which you find yourself is called Rohwbyt, and we

are the Order of the Rohw. Do you not know of us? Elsewise, why would you be here?” Sam looked to Rindu and nodded. The Zouy looked back at him. Sam would let the monk speak, and he would listen. “I am afraid we do not know of you, Brother Dilkin. Perhaps you could tell us why you are out here, many miles from hospitable land and any other people.” The man looked confused for a moment, but then shook his head and focused on Rindu again. He muttered something that sounded like, “…sure he was here to fulfill…” but Sam couldn’t make out any more than that. “We of the Order are fully dedicated to studying and coming into harmony with the rohw, a sentiment I do not need to explain to you, Master. Our sole purpose is to gain that balance and to attain an enlightened state of being creatures solely of the rohw.” Sam’s thoughts raced. What this man was saying was that they studied the rohw, as the Zouyim studied it. They seemed to regard the vibrational energy in almost a religious manner. He leaned toward the man, elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, and focused on the conversation. “How is it that you have come to be here, in this place?” Rindu asked. “Ah, yes, that is the place to start,” Brother

Dilkin said. “I see that now.” “One hundred fifty-five years ago, Brother Pred Turin, a monk of the Zouyim Order, left the temple in search of answers. He was dissatisfied with his knowledge of the rohw, the same knowledge that had been handed down from generation to generation in the temple. It was not that he disliked the Order or his fellow monks, but he knew there must be more out there, things others had not seen or learned. It was a tugging, as if there was something else, just out of reach, something important. “He traveled for a time, communing with nature, seeking the wisdom that only the universal energy could provide. He began to change, to develop extraordinary sensitivities to the rohw. Still he traveled, always searching, meditating for many hours a day, exploring the subtle flows of power that swirled around him and everything else. He saw in those flows things that he had never seen before, things the masters had never mentioned. “As he made his way across the land, certain people noticed that he was different. He had an aura of peace, a gentle power that seemed as enduring as stone, and just as patient. Some left the lives they knew and followed him, begging to be taught.” Brother Mosian poured the tea into the cups he had placed in front of each of them. Sam hadn’t

even noticed the man moving about. He was engrossed in the story. He nodded his thanks to Mosian and continued listening. “Pred Turin had no desire to be anyone’s master, but neither did he stop the others from following him and observing him. As time passed and his new students tried to emulate his actions, he would correct them or speak with them of weighty things. In this way did he slowly fall into the role of master, and in this way did they learn to come into harmony with the rohw. “Eventually, the small group wandered farther afield, always led by Brother Pred’s sensitivity to unique vibrations. After several years of wandering, he found this location and settled here. We have been here ever since, families creating children who became the new disciples in the faith. We now have thirty-eight people living here, all unified in the goal of attaining the ultimate oneness.” Rindu tapped a finger on the table. He picked up his tea and took a sip, a thoughtful look on his face. Still holding the cup aloft, he said, “The Zouyim monk was named Pred Turin. Your name is also Turin.” “It is so. He was my ancestor. I am in a direct line from Brother Pred.” “Do you also train in the fighting method of the Zouyim?” Brother Mosian answered for the leader. “Oh,

no.” He sounded offended. “We are peaceful. We study only the rohw, not combat of any kind. Our use of the vibrational energy is solely peaceful, used for healing and for upbuilding others.” The edges of Rindu’s mouth turned down slightly. “I am sorry. I meant no offense. I am merely curious as to what of the Zouyim Order has been maintained.” Brother Dilkin bowed his head again. “There is no offense taken. We are peaceful, it is true, but we have the utmost respect for the Zouyim. In fact, it was foretold by one of our particularly strong rohw seers more than one hundred years ago that the Zouyim would visit and would gather us and take us away to fulfill our destinies. It is for that I thought you had come.” Sam felt bad for the man and his whole Order. They had waited all these years, living in this inhospitable wilderness, waiting for someone to snatch them up and tell them what their future would be, and when the deliverers came, they knew nothing of the brothers or their prophecy. “I am afraid we have come here quite by accident,” Rindu said. “We are in the midst of a crisis for all of Gythe and chanced upon Rohwbyt.” The man’s gray-flecked head dipped. “I understand. We have waited so long. When I saw your robes, my heart rejoiced that the time had finally come. Please, have something to eat with us,

and we can discuss matters in the wider world. None of us now living have ever been out of this valley and would enjoy news of the outside.” Sam spoke up. “I’m afraid we can’t stay and eat right now. As Rindu said, we are on a crucial mission and must continue. We will come back within a few days, maybe even tonight after we’re finished with our daily traveling, and then we can tell you whatever you would like to know. Does that sound fair?” “Yes,” Brother Dilkin said, “that would be wonderful.” He looked at Sam as if he was trying to puzzle out what species he was. “Pardon me. I mean no offense, but you are not Zouyim, that is plain. It is not just your clothes, but something else. You are powerful in the rohw, but it is a different power than Master Rindu’s, or even the Sapsyr. It confuses me, your aura and your ability. Will you tell me of yourself?” Sam smiled at the man. “I’m…different. It’s true. I am not from this world, but from another called Telani—” Brother Dilkin and Brother Mosian eyed one another. It was obvious they had heard the name before. “Oh, you’ve heard of Telani?” Sam asked. “We have. Perhaps it would be best for you to complete your journey and then discuss it when we have more time. The matter is becoming more and

more complex as we speak.” The leader of the Order raised an eyebrow. “One thing only. I am confused about how you can complete your journey yet come back to us within a few days and perhaps this evening. Are you so close to your journey’s end that you can finish it and then backtrack so quickly?” “No,” Sam said. “We have a long way to go yet. The short answer is that Ix here,” he pointed toward the assassin, “has an ability to transport herself and others to somewhere else in the blink of an eye. I can use the rohw to mimic that ability as well, though in a slightly different manner. Once I study this location, learn the vibratory signature, I can come back here anytime I want almost instantly.” Brother Dilkin grew a knowing smile. “Aha. I have discussed such matters with others of the Order in the past. I believed such things would be possible, but none of the others believed me. They thought me a dreamer. I would dearly love to see that.” Ix had been fidgeting for the last few minutes of the conversation. She finally burst out, “Sam, I’m going to jump ahead so we can put in some more miles today. I think we may be able to get out of the mountains by evening if I don’t get too tired.” Oh, so that was it. She was bored and wanted to continue.

“That sounds like a good idea to me,” Sam said. “We’ll stay here and talk with the brothers until you come back for us. How are you feeling now?” “I’m fine, just a little tired from the traveling earlier. I’m good for several more jumps with all of us yet.” Brother Dilkin’s face showed mild confusion. “If you are fatigued, we can help. The use of the rohw that we have developed is primarily involved in healing and empowering. If you would allow it, I could remove any fatigue you have.” Ix eyed the man carefully, as if looking for deception. Her penetrating gaze locked onto his eyes and held there for much longer than seemed polite to Sam. Dilkin waited with no sign of discomfort. Finally, she said, “I will allow it. What do I have to do?” “Nothing at all. I will do everything. Please remain relaxed. It will take but a moment.” The man stood and brought his hands together in front of him just below the navel, the center of a body’s energy. Brother Dilkin’s hands started to glow softly with the rohw. Only those sensitive to the energy would have seen the glimmering, so to Emerius and maybe Ix, nothing would seem to be happening. To Sam, the visible energy was not even the greater part of it. He felt it, like a beam of sunlight

striking him on a cool, cloudy day. The heat radiated and warmed the side of his body closest to Dilkin. The man began to weave his fingers together into complex positions. He did so smoothly, sliding his digits over one another and then holding the twisting postures for a second or two before moving on to the next one. With each new movement, Sam saw the glow change and become stronger. He locked his eyes on Dilkin’s hands, fascinated. The finger weaving went on for only a few minutes, and by then light radiated off the man’s hands so brightly, it almost hurt Sam’s eyes to look at it. Then he started drawing symbols in the air. His hands moved independently to draw what seemed to be pictures or symbols of some kind in empty space. At times, he would bring both hands together and continue drawing, but mostly both hands drew individually. The glow surrounding those hands didn’t increase, but it changed, began to pulse and mutate. Finally, Brother Dilkin exhaled a slow breath as he made a pushing motion with his hands toward Ix. The assassin stiffened as Sam saw the glowing energy move into her, and then she relaxed. She blinked once, and then stood up. “That…that was…incredible,” she said, eyes wide. “I feel like I have slept for an entire day. How did you do that?”

“It is a simple matter,” Brother Dilkin said. “I merely borrowed energy from our surroundings and put a small bit of it into you, charging your pathways with the rohw. It is the process we use for healing, empowering a person’s own systems with more energy so that they can combat whatever it is that ails the body.” “Thank you.” The assassin bowed to the man. Actually bowed. “I have never experienced anything like it.” She rolled her shoulders and bounced on the balls of her feet. “I’m ready to jump now. I’ll see you in a little while.” With that, she disappeared, causing the two Brothers of the Order to release small gasps. “I thought I saw her release a small amount of the rohw just before she disappeared. Is she a rohw master?” Mosian asked. “If so, she has learned to mask her ability such that I cannot detect it in her.” “No,” Rindu said. “She uses the rohw instinctively. Her teleporting is an ability she was born with, but she has no training in other uses of the universal energy. She could learn, I believe, and would be powerful in it, but she walks another path.” Brother Dilkin smiled. “It is wonderful to see other things the rohw can accomplish. It is easy to become complacent or unappreciative when you see the same thing every day.” “Yes, I agree,” Rindu answered. “For example,

I have never seen such a use of rohw as you just demonstrated. What was it that you did?” “That is the sibyt, the finger weaving to connect more powerfully with the universal rohw. Do the Zouyim not practice this?” Rindu’s eyebrows drew down as he considered. “No. I have never seen nor heard of such a practice. Perhaps this is a technique that your ancestor Pred Turin discovered?” “Perhaps it is so,” the man agreed. “I thought it was of the Zouyim. I would very much like to discuss the rohw with you or with whomever in the temple would be the appropriate person.” “I, too, would like that. I suppose I am as appropriate a person as exists. There are but three of the Zouyim left now, and I stand the highest, if going by the old ranking.” Brother Dilkin’s mouth dropped open. Sam saw that Brother Mosian wore the same expression. The older man’s eyes became watery. “Three? How is it that there are only three? What has happened?” “I am afraid,” Rindu said, “that the Gray Man, a powerful rohw user, destroyed the Zouyim temple and killed almost all the brothers and sisters. For many years, I thought I was the only Zouy left alive, but I have recently found two of my brethren. We are the last of the Zouyim Order.” A shrill sound like that of an injured cat reverberated in the small chamber, leaking out into

the larger hall. Both of the brothers keened, tears beginning to pour from their eyes, faces masks of sorrow. Sam thought it strange that it affected them so profoundly, though they had never seen the temple, or even a Zouyim for that matter. Rindu reached out and patted Brother Dilkin’s back gently. “Please, Brother Dilkin, do not despair. Please. We three still live, and with us lives the potential for re-establishing the Order and the temple. In fact, we have plans to do just that. Please calm yourself.” It took several minutes, but the men finally settled themselves and became calmer. “You must tell us how this happened. Who would have the power to destroy the Zouyim? Why did the Sapsyra not support them?” Sam looked to Rindu. The monk’s lips had compressed slightly. Sam knew Rindu well enough. He did not want to tell them that bit of news. “I am the last of the Sapsyra,” Nalia said. “My sisters were all destroyed, as was Marybador, at nearly the same time as the Zouyim. I, too, plan to rebuild. Marybador will be constructed anew and sisters will be trained. Both of the guardian orders of Gythe will arise again. It will be so.” After a few more tears and another calming down period, the men were ready to ask more questions. At that moment, Ix appeared, right where she had been when she disappeared.

“We must be going now,” Sam said. “When we come back, we will tell you the whole story and discuss whatever you desire. We’re sorry we don’t have time right now.” Brother Dilkin bowed deeply to Sam and the others, even more deeply to Rindu, almost bending in half. “We understand. Thank you for the information you have given us. We will inform the other brothers and sisters and ask if they have questions for you as well. When you return, we will discuss many things.” Sam smiled as he bowed to Brothers Dilkin and Mosian, saluting them with his right fist in his cupped left palm. He touched Ix’s forearm and looked around one final time before finding himself in another location, miles away from the village of Rohwbyt.

CHAPTER 7

T

he party traveled until late in the evening, thanks to the energy infusion Ix had received from Brother Dilkin. Even with their brief stop in the village, they traveled almost a hundred miles. It was excruciatingly slow going through the treacherous mountains, the terrain and the weather interfering with Ix’s ability to cast her senses out to avoid materializing inside a rock or tree. In more hospitable areas, Ix could jump nearly the distance they traveled that day at once. They were nearing the edge of the mountains, the lower lands visible ahead of them. Nalia thought traveling would become easier in the flatlands. There would still be snow, but not the difficult and dangerous mountain conditions. She was the first to arrive at the traveling point the next morning.

“Hi, Nal,” Sam said, as he hugged her from behind. His chin rested briefly on her shoulder before he turned his head and kissed her ear. Lightning shot through the lobe, into her face, and down her whole body, somehow triggering a smile as it did so. “Good morning, Sam.” She tilted her head to the side and kissed his cheek. “Are you ready for another day of travel?” “I am.” He seemed in a good mood. She supposed that doing something, working toward their goal, was the reason. They had all agonized when they didn’t know what to do next. She thought maybe each member of their party was relieved to be in motion. She was. Ix and Emerius showed up, followed shortly by Rindu. Skitter had decided to stay at the fortress and spend the day with the kittens, making Sam promise to let him come with them when there was more for him to do than sit in a backpack. Within a few minutes, they were all situated in a loose circle around Sam. Sam took up the seated posture he used to attain the khulim in preparation to teleport them all to their stopping point. Nalia liked it much better when he transported them. For one thing, she still could not find it in herself to trust the assassin fully. And when Ix was responsible for their traveling, they all had to gather close and touch her. With Sam, they could stay where they wanted and

he would transport them all in the bubble he created. They appeared in the snow-covered meadow where they had stopped their traveling the night before. It must have snowed during the night, because the tracks they had made the day before were gone as if no one had ever been there. The unmarred snow was dazzling in the early morning light, like thousands of the little clear stones Sam had shown her in Telani, diamonds. They had settled into a routine, so as soon as they arrived, Ix waved her hand in farewell and disappeared to make her next jumps. The others plowed through the snow to a pile of rocks a dozen feet away. Nalia and Sam dusted the snow from the boulders and sat. It would be an hour or two before Ix returned. Before long, Rindu stepped up to Sam. “Sam, we should take this opportunity to train.” Sam jumped to his feet. “Yes, that would be great. Kori rohw?” Rindu looked around the meadow. The snow was almost two feet deep. “Perhaps. Or we could work on redirecting flow and resonance. Either way, we must have room to move about. One moment.” The monk dropped into a low stance and began to breathe deeply. Putting his hands out to the side just above his shoulders, he forcefully exhaled as

he pushed his open palms out and down. It looked like he was trying to flap his arms to fly, but in very slow motion. The snow for a dozen feet in a circle all around him moved as if some giant shovel was scraping the ground clean. He stood in a ring of bare earth with some few remaining shreds of grass clinging stubbornly to the ground. Nalia smiled at the surprise on Sam’s face. He should be used to Rindu’s use of the power, but he seemed to be more amazed by mundane uses than the complex or fantastical ones. Nalia watched Rindu and Sam as they discussed matters and Sam tried to emulate things her father showed him. Time passed quickly, and soon, Ix had returned. She did not have snow on her cloak, a good sign. “I made it out of the mountains. The weather is still chilly, but it’s not extremely cold and it’s not snowing, so that’s a plus. Are you all ready?” Emerius was the first to step up to her. He had been sitting on a rock, carving some sort of figurine out of a piece of wood as he watched Sam and Rindu. He seemed bored. Nalia wondered what was going on in that one’s head. He had changed with the death of his sister and younger brother. He was more subdued, calmer. He also didn’t joke as much as he used to, and when he did, it was very dark humor indeed. It was to be expected, she thought. She knew the feeling, remembered when her

mother died. He would settle into it eventually, but he was not done changing yet. The party gathered around Ix, and they teleported to another location. The mountains they had been in were now to their west. They would start moving north soon. Ix rested for a few minutes, drinking some water and snacking on dried fruit. Then she disappeared again. The others went back to occupying themselves as before, Sam taking the first handful of minutes to meditate and learn the vibratory signature of the area. Hours passed. Nalia saw Sam glance occasionally at the location where Ix last teleported out. He looked worried. “It has been three hours,” Nalia said. “She has never taken this long. Is she trying to travel many more miles this time?” Sam’s mouth turned down to a frown. “I don’t think so. She would have told us. I hope nothing happened. If she teleported in front of a family of bears or a group of bandits, she may have been injured. Or maybe she fell into a ravine or something.” “Do not let your mind create problems that do not exist, Sam,” Rindu said. “It is said, ‘the dangers we fear most are those we create in our imaginations.’ She can teleport in the blink of an eye. If she landed in danger, she would simply teleport out of it. Let us wait and see. In any case,

there is nothing we can do now. Let us continue our training.” Nalia held her silence. Another two hours passed. “There’s something wrong,” Sam said. “We have to try to find her.” “She probably finally betrayed us,” Nalia offered. “She abandoned us, though to what end I cannot determine.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Emerius said. “What good would it do to leave us here? Sam can take us back to Whitehall any time he wants. If this was a betrayal, it was the stupidest and least effective betrayal I have ever seen.” Nalia glared at the man but said nothing. He did have a point. “No,” Sam said. “This was not her doing. Something happened to her. We have to find out what. She said she would be going due east from here, so that’s where we’ll go. Just as soon as we go back and retrieve the rakkeben and Oro.” Sam would not be dissuaded, and Nalia could not think of a reason why they should not begin traveling without the assassin. If she had left for good, they would need the mounts to get to their destination. They might as well start as soon as possible. They returned to Whitehall, gathered up the rakkeben, Ix’s manu bird, and Emerius’s bear Oro, and traveled back to the snowy meadow in minutes.

With a firm set to his mouth, Sam whispered to Shonyb and they were off, the wolves and the bear pushing through the snow toward the east. The area through which they traveled was a plateau, higher in elevation than Whitehall, but not so high as the surrounding mountains. Sam said it was less than two thousand feet in elevation and that on his world, it was a desert, mostly devoid of trees compared to the western part of the region. They traveled the rest of the day, taking three short breaks to allow their mounts to rest. During the breaks, Sam would gaze at the ground, his eyes losing focus as he traced the ley lines that Nalia could feel. He was making sure they didn’t go one extra mile they didn’t have to. Following a ley line that traveled due east would keep them on track. Of course, there was no road, no path, not even an unobstructed line through the scattered trees and snow drifts. They had to circle around rock formations, depressions in the land, and the occasional denser stands of trees. Still, Sam always brought them back to their line going east. The light started failing while they were still moving forward. They had been traveling better than a half a day and had seen nothing. “Sam,” Rindu said. “We must stop. It is treacherous for the rakkeben to travel through the snow. It will be doubly dangerous in the dark. They could plunge through the crust into a hole and

break a leg, or worse. We must go back to Whitehall and begin again tomorrow.” “I know,” Sam said sadly. “I know.” He dismounted without another word and sat down in the middle of a clear area, paying no mind to the foot of snow he was sitting in. Once he had learned the area, he nodded to the others and they all teleported back to Whitehall. They didn’t find Ix until late in the morning of the next day.

CHAPTER 8

T

he party came through the trees and into the clearing. Sam was in the lead, Shonyb loping at the same pace they had kept all morning, even though she was probably getting tired. It was nearing noon and he was starting to worry that they had passed Ix without knowing. Thoughts of her injured somewhere burned through his brain, even though logically he knew that she should be able to teleport away from anything short of unconsciousness. His eyes flicked to the side as he passed into the afternoon sunlight. Without the tree cover, the light brightened and he squinted at a shape off to his left. With his eyes half-closed, he had almost missed it. At a light squeeze of his knees, Shonyb skidded to a halt. The shush of the others sliding to a stop followed immediately after. They had almost run

into him. Oro bowled past him and stopped another dozen yards ahead. At the edge of the clear area, Ix hung suspended five feet off the ground, seemingly unable to move. She was almost erect, tilted slightly to the front as if she was leaning into a headwind. Her eyes pleaded for them to release her. Sam got off Shonyb and started toward her. Rindu’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Wait a moment, Sam,” the Zouy said. “She is in some sort of trap. We must determine what it is first, or we may also be snared.” Sam shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Of course,” he said. “Thank you, Master Rindu. I don’t know what I was thinking.” “It is understandable, Sam. We have been searching for Ix, fearing her injured. Your first instinct was to help her. That is good. However, you must always be mindful of your surroundings. First make sure it is safe, and then act. The monkey trying to pull another monkey from the jaws of a crocodile will join his fellow in the belly.” Rindu set about circling the area where Ix was hanging. He didn’t appear to be doing anything other than walking in an ever-smaller circle around her, but Sam knew he was using his rohw sensitivity to see if danger lingered there. About twenty feet from her, near the edge of the trees, he stopped. The monk appeared to be inspecting something on

the ground. Sam rushed over to him. “Fascinating,” Rindu said, peering carefully at a box of some kind resting on the decaying leaves and needles. Upon closer inspection, Sam realized it was actually two boxes, one inside the other. “What is it?” Nalia had joined them. “It looks like some kind of bomb,” Emerius said over her shoulder. “It is a device, true,” Rindu answered, “but it uses the rohw. It reminds me of some of the traps we encountered when searching for the Gray Man.” “What does it do, Father?” “I believe it sensed Ix’s use of the rohw, or maybe teleportation specifically. It activated and trapped her, flooding her body’s rohw pathways with energy meant to immobilize her.” “I’d say it worked,” Emerius said, looking to Ix. “Do you know how to get her out?” Rindu looked from Ix to the box and back again. With a grunt, he stood and walked over to the assassin. Energy glowed around him as he borrowed rohw from the surroundings. He manipulated it first, swirling it this way and that, and then he finally thrust his hands toward the assassin, projecting his energy precisely at specific points on her body. She dropped toward the ground as if Rindu had cut invisible strings holding her up, awkwardly

twisting backward as she regained some control over her limbs and overcompensated for the fall. Rindu caught her in his arms as easily as if she had dropped from a few inches. She chuckled weakly as he let her down to her feet. “Thank you. Even with the grass, that probably would have hurt.” “You are welcome,” Rindu said. The others rushed toward her, Nalia last. “Are you okay, Ix?” Sam asked. “I’m fine. A little thirsty, though. I have been hanging there for almost a day.” Sam handed her his waterskin. “We’re sorry. We traveled as quickly as we could. You covered a lot of miles. We had hoped that you kept to going due east.” Ix took three long draws from the water skin, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and smiled. “You did great, Sam. All of you. Thank you. I would have died if you didn’t find me.” “I do not think that would have occurred,” Rindu said, causing everyone to turn to him. “Why do you say that, monk?” Emerius asked. “The smaller part of the box, now worthless, was a trigger for the rohw construct within the main part of the box. It was set here intentionally, and I doubt it was the only one. Someone anticipated Ix or Sam teleporting through this area. I believe the trappers will return to check their traps periodically.

They would have found Ix. Perhaps they have other devices to nullify the trap so they may take her away, or simply kill her. Perhaps they are rohw users themselves. “One thing is sure: we cannot teleport into areas we do not know. We are being hunted, as surely as we are hunting the third artifact.” Ix had taken another swallow of water. She lowered the waterskin and spoke. “Are you saying I can’t jump so that we can cover more ground anymore? That’s ridiculous. We’ll never make it in time if we do that.” Rindu only looked at her with that emotionless face of his. “And should you run into another of these traps a day away from where we can find you, and the hunters return to check their traps? They will know this one was activated. They will begin to narrow in on our position. What then?” The assassin couldn’t answer. “Ix,” Sam said. “He’s right. We can’t risk it. We can check the areas where we teleport from each day to make sure there are no traps so I can teleport us out, but we can’t blindly jump when there may be more ahead. It’s too risky.” Ix lowered her head and mumbled something Sam couldn’t hear. “Let us move farther away from this location and then return to Whitehall,” Rindu said. “We will discuss our options and begin anew tomorrow. By

the time we have sufficient distance from here, it will be late in the day.” The party mounted up, Ix patting her manu the party had brought, and they traveled another ten miles before stopping to let Sam learn the area and then teleport them back home. Before he used his power, they checked the area thoroughly for more of the box traps. “I still think I can do it,” Ix said the next morning. “What are the chances that they placed another one of those traps in the path we will be taking?” She had been arguing about it all through breakfast. Sam sighed. “Ix, we understand that you want to do your best, that you want to help, but no. It’s too dangerous for you to skim like you’ve been doing. The chances are very good they have placed another in our path. They know we’re heading to the third artifact, and now they know exactly what route we’re taking. It’s too risky.” “Sam, please,” the assassin said. “If we don’t teleport, we will never make it to the artifact before them. Doesn’t the fact that the trap was ahead of us mean that we’re already behind? If we can get ahead of them, we won’t have to worry about traps any longer and we’ll get there first. It’s worth the risk.” “We are not risking you, Ix. It’s not just that your skills are valuable to us. You are one of us,

and we don’t want to see you hurt or captured. It’s not going to happen. I want your word on it. Tell me you will not go haring off and teleporting to try to gain us some time.” The assassin’s face transformed from the stern and defiant look to that of a child that had been caught with a stolen cookie in her hand. Sam knew he had caught her out in what she had planned. She would have argued and then acted disappointed to give in, but in the end, she had planned to jump forward anyway to try to make them some time. “Ix,” he said firmly. Ix sighed and her shoulders slumped. “Okay, I give you my word. I will do as you say and travel in the slowest possible manner, along with the rest of you.” Sam chuckled. The assassin looked like she was pouting. “Thank you. We will do what we must. Hopefully it will be enough.” “It is said,” Rindu said, “‘Do not look where you fell, but where you slipped.’” Sam stared at Rindu, waiting for him to say something else, but the monk nodded and began shoveling food into his mouth. Sam looked to Nalia, who shrugged, and then to Ix, who rolled her eyes. After their meal, the party readied themselves for a long day of travel. On the way down to the traveling point, Sam saw Danaba Kemp. The man was rushing through the hall, as he always was

when Sam caught sight of him lately. “Good morning, Danaba,” Sam said. “Oh, good morning, Sam. Off to find the artifact again?” The man’s piercing brown eyes flashed in the torchlight. “Yes. How is the army-building going?” “Slow. I’ll train this bunch of little girls yet—” He winced, looking at Nalia, and shrugged. “Figure of speech. I’ll get them trained, but will it be in time? And will I have enough? Those are the questions.” Nalia sniffed but didn’t say anything. “I understand,” Sam said. “What about fortifications? Are we relying only on the walls, or do you have other things up your sleeve?” The man finally smiled. “I have things up both sleeves, Sam. You ought to know that. If it comes to a siege and they attack us, no matter their number, they will find some surprises. I guarantee you that.” “Well, if anyone can pull it all together, it’s you, Danaba.” Sam slapped him on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work.” “You too, Sam. You too.” As soon as Sam got to the traveling point, he sat in his cross-legged position, ready to attain the khulim. “Sam,” Ix said, “can I teleport us to where we ended yesterday? I’d like to feel useful.” It was a bit of vulnerability he’d never seen in the woman. His heart warmed to see the proof that

she was becoming more comfortable with them, letting down some of the shields protecting her emotions. He smiled at her. “Sure, but it’ll make you tired with all of us and the mounts, too. Are you sure?” “Yes. It won’t tire me out much with just one time. Thank you.” The others gathered around and, after a few minutes of figuring out how everyone and the mounts could be touching Ix so they would teleport with her, within seconds they were where they had ended the night before. With a sad look toward the northeast, the direction they would now be traveling, Ix mounted her manu and got into line behind Sam, Nalia, and Rindu, side by side with Emerius. It seemed like it had been a long time since they had traveled this way, and Sam felt constantly anxious that the artifact would slip through their fingers. It was not a new sensation, but it was a worrying one. Traveling by mount seemed so slow after getting used to teleporting everywhere. The day’s travel was uneventful. Ride, take a break to eat and allow the mounts to rest, ride some more, and continue until either the mounts showed fatigue or the light began to dim as the sun sank past the horizon. They continued like this for three days. On the fourth day of traveling in the more

conventional manner, they found another trap. Rindu stopped the party as they passed through a sparsely forested area. Most of their travels the day before had been through areas with more tree cover and the mounts were taking advantage of the sparser vegetation, speeding through, enjoying the chance to go faster than the plodding pace they had been keeping. A loud “Stop!” from Rindu halted everyone abruptly. Sam’s thoughts had been drifting, so the sudden command made him jerk erect and almost fall from Shonyb. “Wait here,” the Zouy said to the others. Sam watched as the monk walked toward a rock protruding from the grasses surrounding it, snow only half covering the pale green. He made out something on top of the stone, but couldn’t tell what it was at that distance. After several minutes, Rindu begin to glow, drawing in energy from his surroundings. Sam squinted to try to see what was happening. The monk moved his hands in some sort of circular pattern, and a flash obscured Sam’s vision for a moment. When he could see clearly again, Rindu was coming back toward them. He was carrying an object in his hand. It looked the same as the trap they had seen just a few days before. “Is that—?” Sam started. “Yes,” Rindu said. “Another trap. I have

drained it of its energy, so it is now harmless.” Nalia scowled at her father. “That was reckless. What if you had triggered it by using your rohw near it? What then?” Rindu’s eyes held no anger, no embarrassment. In fact, he looked as if he and his daughter were talking about the weather, not something that could have ended their quest for good. “I was relatively certain it would not be triggered. I was careful. Besides, I do not think it has a range capable of sweeping all of you up in it should I have triggered it from over there.” He jerked his head toward where he had found the item. Nalia exhaled forcefully but did not say anything further. “I guess that answers the question of whether or not other traps are out there,” Sam said, eyeing Ix as he did so. “We have to be careful. I’m sure they’ll figure out soon enough that we’re no longer teleporting around, and then they’ll set other kinds of traps. They may have done so already.” “Sam,” Rindu said, holding up the box. “Do you feel anything from this?” Sam closed his eyes to concentrate and projected his senses out from him, trying to feel anything out of the ordinary. He felt the others around him, the familiar auras of Rindu and Nalia, the peculiar energy signature of Ix, and the sensation of normal life from Emerius and the

mounts. “I do feel something. There’s something else in there. It’s a strange sort of twisting of the rohw flowing around us.” “Very good. Take a moment to explore that feeling, to recognize it. It is weak because it is merely residual energy within the box. An active trap will feel much more powerful. You must be mindful of this feeling, and any other sensation that is not normal. We have not been practicing enough with maintaining an awareness of energy around us. We must remedy that. If we encounter more traps, and I believe we will, you must help me detect them. I am only human and may miss a crucial clue. You must also be ever mindful to aid me in this.” Sam had been examining, in his mind, the box and the energy around and within it. He had it fixed in his consciousness now. “I will try to keep it in my mind, Master Rindu.” “Good. That is all I ask.”

CHAPTER 9

N

icole Sharp looked at herself in the mirror on the wall in her room. How had she gotten to this point in her life? Her reflection didn’t seem any different than it had been in Telani. Maybe a bit more vibrant, more alive. And a bit more tired. She felt different. Since she came to Gythe, she had been exposed to dangers, had adventures, learned about her limits—much greater than she had ever believed—and found things that were so very important to her. She had always had Sam, the most important thing in two worlds, but now she had other things: a cause and a job to do. It really was something. One last look into her own blue eyes and she left her room. There was a Council meeting, and it wouldn’t do for her to be late.

Outside the meeting chambers, she caught a snippet of conversation. Not in the corridor or the room, but in her mind. Max, Skitter, Sammy, she sent. Good morning, Nicole, Max sent back. Have you gone into the room yet? No. I’m in the hall outside. We will be there in just a moment, Skitter sent. No sooner was the sending completed than the familiar red-brown fur of Skitter, Max’s darker brown fur, and the skunk-like pattern on Sammy came into view around the corner of the hall. The three hapaki seemed excited. It was the first large meeting they would attend together. Nicole felt their anticipation, pleasure, and pride at being the representatives of their hapaki communities. Sammy and Skitter were official delegates in the group creating the new government—they had started referring to it as the Guiding Council—but Max was allowed to take part as an honorary member because there had to be other hapaki communities that required representatives. The three hapaki and Nicole went into the chamber and sat at their assigned seats. Carpenters at the fortress had made raised chairs for the hapaki, ones that allowed them to see over the table. They climbed up and waited patiently, chatting mind-to-mind about what the Council

would be discussing. Dr. Walt stepped up to the head of the table, where a small podium rested on a low dais. “Welcome, everyone, welcome. I’d like to get started if we may. We have many things to discuss and never enough time to do so adequately.” The other Council members, twelve of them in attendance, took their seats and lowered their conversations to whispers. Raire Gonsh caught Nicole’s eye and waved enthusiastically. He all but idolized Sam, and it seemed he had transferred some of that to her. She liked him. He seemed informal and almost comically enthusiastic, but she found him to be bright and conscientious in his role as co-leader of Patchel’s Folly. His wife Akila was a good complement to him, the pair being formidable, fair leaders. Shiran Slayth also waved and smiled at Nicole. The woman was gorgeous, at least by Telani standards. With her thick red hair, green eyes, and a body so fit and perfectly formed it was impossible to believe real, she would have had the world at her feet in Telani. Here, she was considered horribly ugly, though. Not for the first time, Nicole’s mind spun with how different the views of beauty on Gythe were compared to Telani. Still, the woman was very charismatic. Nicole often watched how she interacted with others, and

people reacted well to Miray Slayth—a miray was kind of like a mayor but with more power—and she often convinced opponents of her viewpoints. Nicole smiled and waved back. They had many fantastic conversations since the Miray Slayth had been staying at the fortress for the activities involved with the new government. “We have had a series of meetings,” Dr. Walt continued, “about what exact form the charter will take. Georg Santas and Fulusin Telanyahu have kindly been acting as secretaries—no, as framers— of the document that will institute the new united government. I have provided copies of the draft, and the primary goal of today’s meeting is to address any deficiencies, note any additions, and to bring us one step closer to final ratification of the charter of the Republic of Gythe. Let us start, shall we?” Most of the meeting was going through what had been written already, line-by-line and word-byword. It was exhausting for Nicole. It wasn’t just reading a long document that sounded like a lawyer had written it, but it was translating the hapaki’s sendings and then expressing them adequately in Kasmali, a language of which she still had a somewhat tenuous grasp. “A standing army,” Stumin Kile said, “will cost a lot of money to maintain. How will this be paid for?”

Fulusin Telanyahu’s mouth tightened into a thin line. Stumin Kile was the mayor of Somas, a trading town, and he often thought in terms of money: cost and profit. “We have discussed this,” she said. “And I believe it is adequately covered in Article Seventeen. All member communities of the Republic will pay taxes, each according to their population and ability. These taxes will be collected and disbursed to provide the necessary items and services for the members.” “Yes, yes, but it is unclear how exactly that ‘ability’ will be determined. Will my town be taxed more heavily because we trade in goods and more iron crosses our palms as compared, say, to a town that barters for everything?” Nicole reminded herself that in Gythe, iron was used as currency. “It is as we have discussed,” Fulusin said, her eyes narrowing to barely slits. “The exact rules have not yet been decided. The Council has already agreed that you may be part of the committee for determining the exact regulations for controlling the tax system. Stop complaining about something that does not yet exist. You know these answers as well as the rest of us. It is on record. Leave over.” Much of the day was similar, those leaders championing one cause or another, stretching for one more advantage. Nicole started thinking Sam was the wiser one, avoiding anything to do with the politics. It was necessary, though, so she would do

her part. After all, she couldn’t always be out there fighting with knives, though she had become rather proficient at it. Why are you smiling? Max’s voice asked in her mind. She had been practicing holding her thoughts in, not transmitting them to all the hapaki within range. She hadn’t realized she was doing it by habit. I was just thinking about throwing knives at targets. Not anyone in here. Well, not many of them, anyway. Max laughed, as did Skitter. Sammy wasn’t sure about what she had sent. He wasn’t as accustomed to human thought and humor as the other two. He probably thought she was serious. After an entire day in session, Dr. Walt finally called a close to the meeting. Immediately after he did, he fell heavily into a chair as the other members of the Council got to their feet and started moving out of the room. Nicole hoped Sam appreciated what she was doing. By all rights, he should be in the meetings as a full member of the Council by unanimous vote. He communicated much better than she did too, both to the hapaki and to the others in Kasmali. She let out a long breath. At least she was done for now. We are going to go play with the kittens, Max sent. Do you want to come with us? At nearly four months old, the young cats

weren’t really kittens any longer, but Nicole wouldn’t point that out. They were born just before she, Sam, and Nalia came to Gythe this last time. Along with Sam’s cat, Stoker, and the mama cat Molly, they were the only housecats in Gythe. The hapaki had instantly bonded with them, especially Skitter. The three spent a great deal of time with the six young cats. And the two older ones, for that matter. Yes, she sent back to them. I think playing with them is just the thing to wind down after a meeting like this.

CHAPTER 10

T

he next day, Sam and his small party found another trap. Sam felt it at the same time Rindu did, he thought. The Zouy could have been waiting for Sam to say something, testing him before informing the others, but Sam didn’t think he would do that with something this important and dangerous as these devices. The others stayed several hundred yards away as Rindu showed Sam how he had disarmed the other trap. Concentrating with his eyes closed, Sam could see what Rindu did through his aura. He thought he might be able to do it if it meant life or death, but he was glad that Rindu was there to disarm it. When they found another trap the day after, they had to accept that their foes knew exactly where they were headed. There was no way they had put enough traps out across the region to cover

every conceivable route to such an extent they had already run into four of them on their path. “It’s a good thing we didn’t teleport,” Emerius was saying. “They obviously have their sights on us. If we were trapped and helpless, they would have swept us up or just killed us, whichever they liked.” Sam was watching Ix as the hunter spoke. She flinched and wore an embarrassed look as she averted her eyes to the trees surrounding them. “We could not have known that there were more traps,” Nalia said just as Sam was about to speak to comfort the assassin. “We supposed that there would be more and we made the decision to be cautious. One cannot blame another for an eagerness to help.” She flashed a half smile at Ix, who wore a look of open astonishment. No one spoke for a moment. Sam thought that the rest of them were probably as surprised as he was. It sounded like Nalia had just stuck up for Ix. He smiled at both of them. “That’s right,” Sam added. “We have to make judgment calls sometimes. At times, we’re right, at others we’re not. We all do the best we can. The important thing is to work together. Now we need to figure out what to do.” Emerius leaned his bow against a tree and stretched. “If they didn’t know exactly where we were before, they do now. The traps Rindu has

disarmed trace a perfect trail for them to follow us. If they have a way of communicating with each other, even if it’s just messengers on fast mounts that overtake us while we rest at night, they will be figuring out how to ambush us. They’ve learned that the traps will not work.” Ix opened her mouth to speak, but Emerius continued. “But that doesn’t mean that we can risk teleporting.” Ix closed her mouth with a snap. “It just means we have to watch out for more conventional dangers now, too.” Everyone agreed. They discussed changing their route, but the geography of the land prohibited changing it too much or they would take much more time to get to where they were going. “Up until now, there were some options. We could have taken a path through more rugged territory at the expense of a little time, but we’re going to need to turn more northward soon, if the maps I looked at were correct, and we’ll be restricted to passes going through the mountains. “There’s nothing for it but to continue as we have been doing,” Emerius said. “Maybe I should start ranging out in front a little to scout for more conventional traps. It wouldn’t do for us to find and disarm all the rohw traps but then get caught in an ambush and be killed by arrows.” As they finished their break, Emerius and Oro went ahead to scout, letting the party catch up

every hour or two. The rest of the day was uneventful, and as they teleported back to Whitehall, after checking for any more rohw traps in the area, Sam wondered if there was something else they could do to move faster. He was anxious to get to the third artifact, but he also had the feeling that something was waiting for them— something dangerous. The next day, they were traveling through a rocky area with small trees and shrubs inhibiting their travel. The first Sam knew of the attack was the grunts carried to him on the air. Then came the sounds of large bodies crashing through the foliage, followed by several howls and screams as their ambushers charged into sight. “These are new,” Emerius said, looking at a tall, skinny mutant that moved so gracefully it seemed boneless. Sam watched as the creatures ate up the distance between them. The tall one pointed to the left while looking at some of the mutants and at the right while focusing on others. Those he indicated peeled off to where they were directed to flank the party. “The big ones, too,” Ix said, pointing toward a group of towering mutated creatures with four massive arms each. Sam referred to them in his own mind as “tanks,” mainly because they were built like them.

They must have stood over seven feet tall, blocky with muscle and moving with speed he would have thought impossible for such big creatures. Their four arms, two on each side, set one above the other, were as thick as a normal man’s leg. One of the creatures struck a tree with an enormous club. The trunk shattered. There were five of the tanks, the one willowy creature that reminded Sam of the description of the assassin that had tried to kill Dr. Walt, and at least a dozen other mutated creatures, all roughly humanoid. At least there didn’t seem to be any mutated hapaki in the group. His last thought before the enemies came within range was that this must be a scouting party called into service to ambush them when they located the travelers. If it had been an attack planned far in advance, there would have been more, he was sure. Sam looked to Nalia on his left. She had her shrapezi out and a stone-hard look in her eye, the one that meant she was listening to the song of battle. Rindu, to Sam’s right, calmly unsheathed his swords, the two together named Sunedal. Sam himself separated his staff Ahimiro into two sticks and prepared to fight for his life. Arrows started whizzing by Sam’s head. Not toward him, but from behind. Emerius was firing two or three each second. Some of the lesser mutants stumbled and went down, arrows in their

throats or eyes. Just before the mass of enemies got to Sam, he noticed arrows bouncing off the skin of the big, four-armed creatures. Tanks indeed. They seemed to have some sort of armor plating, or their skin itself was as durable as boiled leather, if not harder. Three of the creatures veered toward Sam. He deflected claws and teeth and thanked the powers that be that the mutants didn’t use arrows. One of his adversaries, approximately the same size as him and dressed in some sort of loin cloth, had blades where his hands should have been. It jabbed straight at Sam’s face while bringing the other around to slice him from the side. At the same time, a shorter mutant tried to tackle him, and a third leapt at him, teeth flashing and claws reaching. Sam moved fluidly, easily, twisting his torso just enough to allow the blade-hand to pass while deflecting the slash from the side with one of his sticks. The sharp edge skidded down the length of Sam’s weapons with a screech. Right into the opponent that was launching itself toward Sam’s knees. He had only to flick his wrist to roll the stick around the blade and strike downward onto the head of the tackler. The creature grunted as the deflected blade bit into its shoulder and its face slammed into the ground from the stick strike. That was satisfying. Sam’s evasion and deflection threw the blade-

handed mutant off balance. Sam pivoted, delivered a hard strike to the creature’s neck and collar bone with his other stick and, using the momentum of his turn, caught his other adversary with a perfectly placed spin kick, levering the beast up and over him to strike a nearby tree with its back, upside down and limbs flailing. Taking advantage of the momentary pause, Sam looked around to see Rindu and Nalia whirling about with their swords, killing mutants with every slash, and Ix teleporting around the battlefield to slash at throats. Four of the four-armed tank mutants were still up, two of them bristling with arrows that had somehow penetrated their natural armor at their shoulders and the joints of their arms, but Emerius was concentrating on them to keep them at bay. The creatures hadn’t yet been able to get close enough to the hunter to attack him, but that would change. Sam’s adversaries were recovering from the first round of attacks, finding their feet and starting toward him. It was time, he knew, to use lethal force. Sadness welled up in him, but he pushed it down and concentrated on the song of battle, on the calmness of his rohw. They came at him in a clump. Blade-hands was moving his right arm awkwardly and wheezing. The strike Sam had delivered had crushed its collar bone and damaged the throat. The shorter mutant

was dazed but still stumbled toward Sam. The jumper was limping, approaching behind the others. This time, Sam attacked first. He feinted with the left stick, aiming for bladehand’s heart. It reacted with its right arm, but slowly. Sam tapped the blade away with the stick in his right hand and then thrust the end of it to the creature’s chest, ejecting a strong rohw pulse as he did so. It was a strong enough burst of energy to shatter stone, and the front of the mutant exploded out through its back. It dropped dead instantly, but Sam was still moving, weaving through the arms of the short mutant and striking the reaching arm of the third opponent. He used as much force as he could muster, striking the hairy appendage from opposing sides with his sticks. There was a loud snap, and the claw dangled from the shattered arm. Sam was now within a foot of the taller mutant with its one uninjured arm, his own arms crossed from the momentum of his strike. He thrust his left foot back and met the throat of the shorter mutant as it tried to grab him from behind. Its head snapped forward, and through his boot Sam felt the vertebrae in its neck shattering. At the same time, he wrenched his arms outward and struck either side of the taller mutant’s head, right at the temples. With rohw force added to the blow, the top of the creature’s head sheared off and spun away. Sam

ended with his sticks at the ready, crouched in a low stance, right leg extended and left bent underneath him. That’s when he noticed that two of the four-armed behemoths had apparently decided he was easier to get to than the archer. The hulking monsters moved more quickly than Sam would have believed. Too fast for their bulk. Sam bobbed and threaded his body through the eight limbs attacking him at once. One of the beasts had two clubs in its arms and the other had a club and two swords, although in its hands they looked like long knives. As he barely escaped being crushed, slashed, and pummeled, Sam took inventory of what was happening in his peripheral vision. It had only been seconds since the fighting started, and more than half the mutated creatures had fallen. Three of the tanks still fought, including the two Sam faced, and everyone else was busy with their own battles. Sam was on his own. He hoped he survived the fight. Sam ducked behind a tree as one of the tanks sliced at him with a sword from either side. It wasn’t a large tree, maybe eight or nine inches thick. The swords whistled toward him and sheared the trunk cleanly. Sam had to jump clear to keep from getting crushed by the falling mass of wood. Before it had fallen, the swords had reversed direction and come back toward him. Sam jumped

up, turned a flip, twisted in the air, and struck down as hard as he could with both sticks while infusing the strike with rohw. The sticks struck the creature’s ugly face. Sam felt lightning shoot up his arms, as if he had hit both funny bones. It felt like he had struck solid granite. He had no doubt that if he had been holding anything other than porzul wood, his weapons would have shattered. Yeah, he thought, I’m definitely in trouble here. All Sam could do was to evade the creatures, hoping the others would be able to help him before the behemoths killed him. He deflected some blows, though even that was difficult because of their sheer force, but mostly he evaded them. He was tiring fast and didn’t know how much longer he could last. You’re thinking too much, and in the wrong ways. Relax, come into balance, and feel the rohw. He heard it in Rindu’s voice, not his own. It helped. He relaxed. As much as one could when walking a knife’s edge between life and death. Calm washed over him as his body moved without thought. The tanks trying to kill him had not relented, not slowed one bit, but now that he moved in harmony with the song of battle, he didn’t need to think about individual movements anymore. His evasions seemed easier, more fluid. He spun and dipped and dodged around the small clearing his opponents had chased him into. And he

began to plan. When Sam lunged directly toward one of the tanks, surprise showed on its face. It had probably never seen anyone do that before, and it hesitated for a fraction of a second. The tank beside it had no such hesitation. That one swung a sword and a club, and a third arm aimed a long, arcing blow with the mallet of its fist toward Sam’s head. Sam ducked under the arms of the tank in front of him, barely slipping to the side in time. The satisfying sound of a heavy thud and a fainter squish told him that at least two blows meant for him had landed on the hesitating tank. From behind it, Sam turned, dropped one knee to use every bit of hip rotation, gravity, and rohw force he could muster, and drove his hands down, jabbing the short ends of the sticks where the kidneys would be on a human. Hoping the anatomy was similar, he rolled out of the way, just evading a club and sword that shook the ground. Rolling again, he came up on the other side of the creature he had struck and delivered another rohw strike to the lower back, on both sides of the vertebrae. The splintering sound could only have been bones being pulverized, shortly followed by the creature’s scream and the thud of it hitting the ground when its legs no longer worked. Sam had been hoping the armor plating covered only the front, and he was glad to see that it was so. But he

still had one more adversary to deal with. The final tank battered the one that was falling, shoving its twin out of the way to get to Sam. As it stepped over its fellow, the club and two swords it held came at Sam in a blur intended to crush him from above and cut him from the sides at diagonally downward angles. Sam jumped, swinging his sticks outward and downward to deflect the swords. The force of his parries allowed him to jump almost six feet straight up, where he kicked at his opponent with both feet. When Sam’s feet connected to the creature’s armored chest, he shot backward as if he pushed himself off a concrete wall. He knew he wouldn’t move the beast much, but he was surprised that it didn’t move at all. He jetted back so quickly that he was already out of range when the club came down where he’d been. Sam executed a graceful back flip and landed lightly, ruining the effect somewhat by sliding back a pace on the blood-slicked ground. Sam reattached the sticks into staff form and tried to keep his foe’s strikes at bay. It took all his focus, and he barely managed it. Try as he might, he was unable to circle around the mutant to strike it from behind. Apparently, it had learned from watching Sam dispatch the other tank. He was rapidly tiring. One mistake and the creature would have him. Parrying a flurry of blows and delivering a few

of his own that bounced off the hardened skin of the tank, Sam tried to figure out a new strategy to compensate for his fatigue. He wondered if he could get a strike through to its eyes. The extended brow on the beast’s face seemed custom-designed to prevent that, but Sam was running out of options. He shifted his weight to allow another sword slash to pass him by within a hair’s breadth. Gathering the last of his precious energy in a final attack, he hoped he’d have enough left afterward to survive. The creature’s eyes widened as steel tips emerged just below them. It made a strangled choking sound, dropped its weapons, and then crashed face first to the ground. Sam had to jump out of the way to prevent being crushed by the mass of flesh. Behind the falling beast, Ix landed on her feet, obviously having jumped to reach the back of the tank’s skull. She crossed her ring daggers in front of her in salute and disappeared. Sam saw the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye that told him where she had gone: right beside a furry mutant whose throat she immediately cut as she materialized. Sam looked around and saw that only a few of the mutants were left standing. In fact, as he watched, Rindu and Nalia finished off the last of them. Emerius was standing to Sam’s right, hands holding his long knives on his knees, breathing hard. His bow was on the ground nearby, and the

quiver on his back was empty. Ix appeared next to him, looking him over for injuries. Sam found a few gashes on himself he didn’t remember receiving. The rest of them seemed to lack serious injury, though he could pick out some cuts and bruises on Emerius. Rindu and Nalia, though covered in blood, seemed not to have been hit. “Well,” Sam said between labored breaths, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen those mutants before.” He pointed to the two tanks in front of him. “Tough little buggers.” He looked to Ix and saluted her. “Thanks, Ix. I don’t know if I would have survived that without your help.” She smiled at him and winked. “That’s what friends do, cover each other’s backs.” Nalia fixed her with a level stare but said nothing. “It seems as if the forces of the one who calls himself Chetra Dal have found us at last,” Rindu said. “I do not think we will have an easy time traveling from here on out. We must be more wary.” Emerius was picking through the corpses, retrieving his arrows. He seemed to be looking for something, his eyes flicking over the bodies as he pulled his arrows free. “Are you looking for something, Em?” Sam asked.

The hunter’s head snapped up as if he had forgotten the others were there.“Just surveying the types of creatures. There was one, a tall wiry one, completely hairless, that seemed to be directing the smarter mutants with gestures. Quick as lightning, that one. It dodged several arrows, twisting its body in ways it shouldn’t have been able to.” “I killed it,” Nalia said, pointing with one of her shrapezi. “It is over there.” Her weapon moved again. “And there.” Once more she shifted her blade. “And there.” Her wicked smile made Sam shiver. They all gathered around the head of the creature. Its bald pate looked too big for the body that lay a few feet away. Its eyes were large even in proportion to the oversized head. Pointed ears lay flat against its egg-shaped cranium, and wicked, sharp teeth ringed the mouth that was frozen in a snarl. Sam inspected it carefully. “That looks like the assassin described by Torim Jet, Danaba Kemp, and Palusa Filk. The one that tried to kill Dr. Walt.” “Yes,” Rindu said. “I would hope it was the same one. I do not like the thought of more than one of those creatures in the world.” “It was very difficult to kill,” Nalia said. “It moves as something boneless, a snake perhaps. Its hide is tough to cut, as well. I inflicted several slashes that would have opened wide the flesh of

normal people, even most of these mutants, but they merely scored this creature. It was distracted when Ix appeared beside it to kill another of its fellows. It was then that I was able to truly hurt it. Still, it took me almost a minute to injure it enough to land killing blows.” Nalia looked to Ix. “Perhaps I, too, must thank you. Had you not taken its attention, I might still be fighting it.” Ix nodded, taking the indirect thanks without forcing Nalia to actually say it. Sam was glad she didn’t say anything sarcastic, as was her nature. After checking themselves and their mounts thoroughly for injuries, and mending those they found, they traveled another hour before stopping and teleporting back to Whitehall. Not wanting to waste daylight, they split up to wash and change out of their blood-soaked clothes and met again at the traveling point half an hour later. Sam was nervous about teleporting back to where they had left off, with thoughts of other packs of mutants, even ones with traps to set, intruding in his mind. They arrived safely, though, and their travel was uneventful until evening when they stopped for the day. Things had changed. Sam felt it, but he could see it in the faces of his friends. Tired, resigned looks and slumped shoulders confirmed they saw it the way he did. Even the safety of teleporting each

day was gone. They would be facing danger at every moment, and Sam wasn’t sure they even knew all the threats arrayed in front of them. He hoped they didn’t find out the hard way.

CHAPTER 11

V

ahi leaned toward Chetra Dal as the old man gave him instructions on his

mission. “Unfortunately, we will have to split up the bhorgabir, at least at first,” Dal said. “We do not know where our adversaries are and until we do, we must have a bhor with each group of soldiers or mutated creatures to oversee things.” Vahi understood but wasn’t sure he agreed. The bhorgabir usually worked alone, not in groups. Because of the special challenges of the current mission—to find and destroy the small party that eliminated Ayim Rasaad—he thought it would be advantageous for the bhor to work together in a small unit. Together with the other bhor, not with the unthinking mutants Baron Tingai had been creating. Chetra Dal didn’t see it that way, and Dal

was the leader. The bhorgabir were created for one purpose only: to kill through stealth and assassination. They were the ultimate assassins, developed during the Great War and used by both sides to kill key personnel in the opposing armies or governments. All of their abilities were specifically planned and developed to make them unequaled in killing quickly and silently. They were tall and lanky, with extreme flexibility that allowed them to do everything from squeezing through small spaces to evading attacks in ways that seemed impossible. The skin covering them had been created to be as tough as boiled leather, allowing them to move freely but still giving them the protection of armor. Thanks to very large eyes and pupils that gathered even the smallest amount of light, the bhor could see in almost total darkness. Their ears were as keen as most animals’, due not only to physiological manipulation of the hearing organs, but also anatomical enhancements to the structure of their earlobes. Even their sense of smell was enhanced, olfactory organs modified using canine subjects so that they could smell as well as a hound. The original donors of the genetic material used to make the handful of bhorgabir were also selected for their intelligence, and even that was enhanced through the high technology existent on Gythe during the time of the war. The brain centers for

puzzle-solving, strategy, and improvisation were augmented, creating assassins that could not only follow orders but react to changing circumstances to complete their missions successfully. Physically, the bhorgabir were also created to have great strength and dexterity. But their creators did not stop at endowing their tools with the raw materials for becoming the perfect assassins. They also instituted a regimen to train specific abilities and refine them so that the bhor were in truth the perfect weapon. This training included an entire culture for training subsequent bhor. Because they were allowed to retain the ability to reproduce, a social structure was set up so that subsequent generations were trained to be as lethal as the original mutants. In fact, so thorough and efficient were their cultural and social structures, the bhorgabir survived long after the governments that created them had disappeared. When the war came to a climax and most of the population of Gythe was destroyed, a small group of the bhorgabir survived. Over the centuries, the mutant assassins reproduced and continued to train their young in the arts of assassination. They were not prolific. Their few offspring were just enough to maintain the small number of bhor, neither increasing nor decreasing their population. The bhorgabir always chose the best of them

for a leader. This was not necessarily the best fighter or the strongest or the quickest. Instead, they chose the best all-around assassin and the entire community followed the new leader, including the previous one. The current leader, Vahi, had been a clear choice since adolescence. He happened to be the fastest, strongest, and quickest, but what solidified his leadership was that he was also by far the cleverest and most devious of them. Vahi had been leader of the bhor for almost ten years. He was the one who brokered the deal with Ayim Rasaad and Chetra Dal to serve them. The bhor had no interest in money or power. They simply wanted a place of their own, a land to call home where they could raise their young, train, and continue to become better assassins. Dal had promised them this for helping to eliminate his opposition. Vahi thought of the remaining bhor. There were only twenty-three of them altogether. Would Chetra Dal keep his word? When the last artifact was obtained, the fledgling government was destroyed, and Dal had taken control of Gythe, would the bhorgabir be able to live on the land they were granted, building a society that would proudly stand as the greatest assassins in this world? “I am making you responsible for the deaths of these troublemakers, Vahi,” Chetra Dal said, breaking Vahi from his thoughts. “I will not allow

them to thwart my plans for getting the third artifact. I have planned too hard, waited too long. You must stop them from getting to it before I do. Is that clear?” “It is clear,” Vahi said. “Between the mutants my brethren are commanding and my small group here, we will eliminate the Zouy, the Sapsyr, and the man from the other world. Once we find them.” “That is all I ask,” Dal said. Vahi slipped silently through the corridors of Mwantgeray, lost in thought. Chetra Dal’s fortress was named appropriately. The bhor spoke Old Kasmali, of course, since that was the language in vogue when they were created. Set apart since the destruction of the old world, they maintained the pure language, though in their infrequent dealings with outsiders they had learned modern Kasmali as well. The name meant “death magic” and from what Vahi had seen of Ayim Rasaad’s and Chetra Dal’s power, it fit the fortress well. Even without paying attention, he slunk naturally, unnoticed by any of those he passed. He found himself in front of the complex of rooms the bhorgabir were occupying. He missed his village, tucked away safely in the mountains to the south. He wondered if his people would ever be able to go back there, would ever be done with the warfare and power struggles that made up their existence. It was what the bhor were created for, but sometimes

he longed for a simpler life. As well dream of catching a star from the night sky with a net. “Tenu,” he said to the first bhor he saw as he entered the complex, “gather everyone. We have new orders.” The other bhor, an inch or two shorter than Vahi but thicker around the middle, nodded and headed deeper into the warren of corridors. Vahi turned left at the first intersection and walked down the hallway to the second door on the right. He opened it and entered a large chamber that was used for meetings and sometimes training. He set about lighting the braziers and torches. It wasn’t necessary—all the bhor could see well enough in almost complete darkness—but for some reason he wanted the light for this. As his fellow assassins filtered into the room, Vahi greeted each of them, asking how they were, what news they had. Chetra Dal had been using them for reconnaissance and the occasional killing. They all reported to Vahi when they returned from their assignments, but the questions gave him something to talk about, something to distract him until they all arrived. He saw Tenu slip in behind two others and took the opportunity to take a quick count of how many were there. Eighteen present. There were still two bhor out on assignment and three more somewhere in the fortress. They would have to hear what he

was about to say at a later time. It was time to start. Vahi raised his hand and the room became instantly silent. He nodded. “I have called this meeting so I may tell you the plans Chetra Dal has for the bhorgabir. Plans beyond the individual missions I have been assigning. He is coming close to the completion of his plans and would have our help. The kind of help only the bhor can provide.” Looking around, he spotted Lika. He thought once that he would take her for his mate. He still might. Bhor did not love, not in the conventional sense. He had read about such things and did not think his people were capable of it. Still, she was desirable, with her sleek body and delicately turned ears. If any part of a bhor could be called delicate. He enjoyed her company and delighted in looking at her hips, perfect for reproducing. Her dark eyes found his and her mouth opened slightly, showing the points of her sharp teeth. He looked away so he was not distracted. Hila, his second-in-command, stood near the back, eyes fixed on his leader. He would be leader, if not for Vahi, but he held no hard feelings. All bhor always did what was best for the community, whether that meant sacrificing their lives or sacrificing opportunities to serve. Vahi had no stauncher supporter nor any that opposed him. It was not the bhorgabir way. The leader nodded to Hila and continued.

“The enemies of Chetra Dal are becoming more of an annoyance. They are in search of the last artifact and are determined to snatch it from our master’s grasp. We are to shift our activities from spying and consulting to that of leadership and combat. “Starting today, each of you will be assigned a force of the new mutants.” Vahi sneered at the idea of the creatures created by Baron Tingai. They were so obviously inferior to the bhor or anything created during the Great War that it was hard to even think about dealing with them. Many of the other bhor grimaced like they had eaten something sour. “One or two of us will lead each of the units of these forces,” he continued. “Our job is to hunt down these opposers and destroy them.” He scanned the chamber to see the reaction of his people. Even the sour looks from a moment ago were disappearing from them, replaced by a cold, neutral expression. They had been created for seeking out and destroying their enemies. This assignment was nothing new. The only difference was that they had to lead Tingai’s creatures. They would do their jobs to the best of their abilities. That meant they would be successful. A purposeful creation and a lifetime of training had forged the bhor into weapons. Nothing would stop them. Not even the counterfeit mutants they were saddled

with. “I will draw up a schedule and assignment list. We are to mobilize immediately. I will be informing you individually where you will go and what you will do. Prepare yourselves. By this time tomorrow, no bhor will remain in the fortress. You are dismissed.” As the other bhor were leaving, Hila approached Vahi. “You do not agree with Dal’s orders.” It was not a question. “You know me too well, Hila. No, I do not agree fully with them. Are we not bhorgabir, the finest assassins who have ever lived? Are we not the embodiment of all that is martial, the very personification of death?” “We are.” “Then why must we be burdened with these new mutants?” The scorn he invested in that word was nothing compared to the disgust he felt. “Tingai’s creatures. The man is an imbecile, trying to emulate the genius of those who created us and the other weapons during the Great War. We should be allowed to handle these opposers in our own way.” “Have you mentioned this concern to the master?” Hila asked. “Yes. He says that we are bound to him, that we must obey him unquestioningly. We were not meant to be on such a short leash. Of old, we were given

an objective and allowed to develop a solution, what we thought was the best course. I do not like being told how to do something. “These enemies, the small group of them, killed Ayim Rasaad. They are as skilled a gathering of opponents as we have ever faced. It is not the time to split the bhor up and dilute their power by adding inferior creatures. We are all capable, but we are even more formidable when acting as one unit. I understand that we do not know exactly where our targets are, so we must be spread thin, but it concerns me that we are being separated from each other.” Vahi looked into Hila’s eyes for any sign of emotion. There was none. The bhor rarely showed feelings of any kind. “I disagree with these tactics. I fear that if we dilute our strength, our people may not survive the folly. But Dal is right about one thing. We are bound to him by oaths stronger than our own lives. We will do what we must, but I think it is the wrong way to do it. No other bhor will hear of this.” He knew Hila would take that as a command. “Of course not. Community first. It is the bhorgabir way.” He turned and left the room. Vahi looked at his hands, his greatest tools aside from his mind. He wondered if they would be enough to allow him to survive the task he had been given.

CHAPTER 12

T

orim Jet stood on the balcony of the small library he had been reading in and looked out over one of the parks below. Soft light slanted in from the west where the sun slowly sank toward the horizon. The air was chilly, but he wasn’t high up in the keep, so his heavy clothes and cloak kept most of the cold out. The grounds were beautiful, but the snow covering almost everything visible reminded him of his former home, of the temple at Kokitura Mountain. It had only been nine years since the Gray Man had killed all the Zouyim monks in the temple and destroyed the buildings themselves, but it seemed like much longer. Vivid images still played in the old monk’s mind, pictures of the bodies he had seen when he returned to the temple from a mission. He had lost some part of himself, of his mind, that day.

In the time after that, constantly trying to avoid the Gray Man’s assassins, he came close to losing his mind completely. He was so far removed from reality that when Rindu and his friends stopped in Tramgadal, the small village at the base of Kokitura Mountain, he did not recognize them and attacked. Luckily, Rindu recalled Torim to himself before he caused any harm. Since he had found out about the Gray Man’s demise, it seemed to him that the disjointed, swirling thoughts that had plagued him for so many years were settling. He was regaining himself, his balance. That was good because he had much work to do. The temple must be rebuilt and the Order restored. There was only him and… Palusa Filk walked out onto the balcony with the older monk. She stepped up next to him and looked out over the park. “It is beautiful,” she said. He laughed and saw her flinch as though expecting some kind of outburst. “I was just thinking of the discussion we had all those years ago when we were on the mission that ended with us finding two of our fellow Zouyim murdered by the Gray Man’s assassins. We were discussing beauty. It struck me as ironic that you would comment on the beauty of the parks below.” Her shoulders relaxed. “Yes,” she said. “I remember the conversation. But what are you thinking about now, out here in

the cold?” “I was thinking about Kokitura Mountain and our temple home there.” “Yes, it is on my mind also. We must rebuild it and begin to increase our number again.” Torim Jet looked at his young companion. He remembered her as a child and also as the young adult she was before the temple was razed. “With all that is going on at this time, it feels selfish to wish for the temple to be rebuilt. There are hard times ahead, perhaps even full-scale war. Will any of us live to erect the structures once more, let alone train the new disciples? Will we even be able to find new disciples? We have Bao Ling, the little girl Ix brought us from Zhong, but will there be more?” “There will be, Master Jet. There are those in the world yet who are of good heart and who have the necessary affinity with the rohw. We will find them, or they will find us.” He looked at Palusa Filk, really looked. It was so recently that he’d found her again; perhaps he was guilty of still seeing her as the young disciple she was when the Gray Man forced the few surviving Zouyim to split up and go their separate ways. She was not that young girl anymore, but a woman, a full Zouyim sister who had faced hardships and danger and had maintained her training and honor over all those years.

She noticed him focusing on her. “What is it?” she said. “When I last saw you all those years ago when the temple had just been destroyed, and briefly in the meeting mere months later, you were a young girl, a disciple. I just realized that you are a wise Zouyim sister, a full monk and a shining example of what a Zouy should be. It makes my old heart glad to know that there are such as you still with us and as you say, it makes me hopeful that there are more. That there will be more.” He put his hands together in a formal salute and bowed to her. He smiled when she flushed a soft crimson. “Thank you, master,” she said. “I appreciate your praise and will do my best to be worthy of it.” She tilted her head to the side, and her eyes focused on nothing. “To be truthful, I find it exciting that we have the privilege and the challenge to begin anew, to shape the lives of the young to become our brothers and sisters. It is a great honor, one I do not take lightly.” This time, Torim Jet’s smile was so wide he could feel his face stretching. “That is exactly the perfect attitude, Palusa Filk. We will be successful, you and Rindu and I. Have we not already one outstanding disciple in Bao Ling? I thank you for reminding me of the proper attitude.” “It is ever my pleasure and my honor to help my brothers and sisters, even should they be my

master.” She smiled and he knew she realized she was repeating something he had told her many times before when he had taught her some lesson. “It is almost time for Sam and the others to return for the day,” he told her. I would like to take our meal with them to find out how their quest is progressing. Shall we go meet them?” The two went toward the dining hall the others used each day. On the way, they stopped by the main library Dr. Walt haunted, knowing he had probably lost track of the time and wouldn’t know it was meal time. Torim Jet chuckled when Palusa Filk joked that the old scholar could probably forget meals entirely, wondering why his stomach was rumbling while still too engaged in his research to think about food. They had only just sat down in the dining hall when Sam and the others arrived. Besides Sam, Nalia, Rindu, and Ix, two men accompanied them. They wore familiar robes—though not in a familiar color—and spoke oddly. “Oh, good,” Sam said as he walked up to the table. “I was hoping you would be here. Master Torim Jet, Palusa Filk, Dr. Walt, I would like you to meet Brother Dilkin and Brother Mosian. They are from a village called Rohwbyt, deep in the mountains to the east. They are brothers in the Order of the Rohw.” Torim exchanged greetings with the brothers,

noticing that they were nervous. No, not nervous. Excited. They shifted their gaze between himself, Palusa Filk, and Rindu, who had brought a heaping plate of food to the table and was conscientiously scooping it into his mouth. There was admiration, almost awe in their eyes as they looked at the monks while Sam told the story of their city and the Order. “Pred Turin,” Torim said. “I think I have heard that name before, but I do not remember in what context. It is clear that you are long-lost brothers. Welcome to Whitehall. Your story is fascinating, and it is a great honor to meet you.” As Torim saluted them and bowed, the eyes of both of the brothers went liquid, but they said nothing, only bowed deeply. “There’s more,” Sam said. If Torim Jet was surprised by the news about the city and the Order itself, he was even more so about the peculiar way the brothers used the rohw. “Can you demonstrate for us?” he asked them, and they nearly fell over themselves with eagerness to comply. The brothers looked at each other, seeming to be at a loss for a suitable demonstration. Brother Dilkin finally rested his gaze on Dr. Walt, who looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and Torim had noticed a bandage on his left hand, though he had not yet had a

chance to ask about the apparent injury. “Dr. Walt,” Brother Dilkin said, “is your hand injured?” Dr. Walt had been paying attention, but his eyes were glassy, unfocused. At the mention of his name, he jerked his head up, which was slowly sinking toward the table. “What? Oh, my hand. Ah, yes. I am clumsy and cut myself as I was putting my razor away after shaving. It’s nothing.” “May I perhaps heal it?” the brother asked. “As a demonstration.” “Heal? Heal a cut? Yes, of course.” Dr. Walt removed the bandage, which Torim noticed had an appreciable amount of blood on the inner wrappings, revealing a long incision across the scholar’s palm. Brother Dilkin began a complex series of movements, each increasing the glow of the rohw around him and changing the nature of the energy. Torim watched with fascination as the movements gathered more rohw and then channeled it into Dr. Walt. When Dilkin finally relaxed, the cut looked like it had healed for a week. Even the dark circles under Dr. Walt’s eyes had disappeared, and he looked generally well-rested. Torim Jet stared at the cut, mouth open. “That is incredible,” he said. “I have never seen the rohw used in that manner.” Torim Jet looked to Palusa Filk. Her mouth was

open too, and she was staring as if trying to determine something, perhaps whether or not she believed what she had just seen. Rindu had stopped eating and was looking at the two other Zouyim with a quizzical look. It was obvious he had seen a demonstration before. Dr. Walt had on his face the look he got when confronted with a mystery of some kind. Sam filled the silence. “As you can see, the brothers have developed some interesting uses of the rohw, but at the heart of it, they have spent their lives trying to emulate the Zouyim as they waited to be brought back into the fold. “Their prophecies say that they will be taken from isolated Rohwbyt and will again become part of the Zouyim Order. I was hoping that you, Master Torim, and Master Rindu could discuss it and figure out what needs to be done.” The words he had exchanged with Palusa Filk only hours ago came back to him. Had he not wished they could find more disciples with which to build the Zouyim Order once again? Was this not an unexpected gift? He opened his mouth to speak, but a look from Rindu made him close it again. “We can discuss these things later,” Rindu said. “For now, let us eat and enjoy each other’s company. We can tell the brothers what is happening in the greater world and the challenges

we face at this time.” There were nods all around. If the brothers saw anything amiss about Rindu’s abrupt dismissal of the question at hand, they did not show it. They smiled, bowed, and began to eat their meals, asking questions and answering them. After the meal, Rindu asked Palusa Filk to show the brothers to rooms they could use for the night. The next day, they would be shown around the keep, with its libraries, parks, and training facilities. “The Order of the Rohw have a deep respect for the Zouyim,” Rindu said when the brothers had left with Palusa Filk. “They were promised a place with the Zouyim and they desire it above all else.” Torim Jet waited several breaths to see if Rindu would continue. He did not. “Is there a problem with bringing them in?” he asked. “Perhaps,” Rindu said. “It is unusual for adults to be brought into the Order. It has happened, once, but it is unusual. We are discussing an entire village of adults who have their own lives and their own experiences. You and I, Brother Torim, are the only masters left, and as such it is up to us to determine what is appropriate for the Zouyim Order as a whole.” Torim Jet understood now. “You are thinking that perhaps with an entire group of those who have lived by a strict code, there will be much

pressure to change what is the Zouyim way?” “Exactly. It is said, ‘The ideal disciple is a new piece of parchment.’ If they are brought in as disciples—bringing them in as full brothers is preposterous—they might try to insist upon ways that are not as they should be for a Zouyim monk.” “What then?” Torim asked. “Shall we reject their desire to be part of the temple, reject the thing their entire lives have been based upon?” “Not that,” Rindu answered. “Never that. Perhaps something different, though, something new. Would it be amiss to see them as associates, much like the Sapsyra are associates? They could remain a group unto themselves, a subset of the Zouyim but not full brothers. In time, as they individually decide to adopt the Zouyim way more fully, changing some of their own traditions, they could become disciples and eventually brothers. Any of the young could decide to be in either group and would be raised up and trained accordingly.” Torim thought about it for a moment. “That seems acceptable to me, but will it be to them? Would they see it as an insult?” “That is my concern as well,” Rindu said. “The brothers hold authority with the Order, and they seem reasonable. I propose we discuss it with them and see what they think.” Sam, Nalia, and Dr. Walt had remained silent during the exchange, knowing that it was Zouyim

business. Torim Jet turned to Sam. “What of your opinion, Sam? What do you think about this situation?” Sam jumped as if startled. “Me? Why ask me?” “You are tied to us, Sam,” Rindu said. “In a sense, you are the leader of us all, Zouyim, Sapsyra, and the new government. All look to you for leadership.” Sam gulped. “I still don’t understand why—” Nalia’s touch on his arm made him stop what he was saying. “I think that sounds like the most logical way to do it. With the brothers, I mean. I have a feeling that there will be a give and take in this. The Zouyim will modify a few things that the masters see fit to change, but the Order will make changes, individually, as they try to fit into the Zouyim lifestyle. Within a generation, there may be only one Zouyim Order or there may be both, each fulfilling a specific purpose.” “Yes,” Rindu said. “I had not thought of it that way, but of course, you are right. We may be witnessing the dawn of a third powerful group dedicated to the protection of the people of Gythe. I am fond of that idea.” “I, too,” Torim Jet added. “I believe we should discuss this with the brothers in the morning.” “It is agreed then,” Rindu said, “but it will be you who discusses it with them, Brother Torim. We will leave them here tomorrow as we continue on

our quest. You can discuss it with them, and when we go to travel on the day after, we will take them back to their village. Your consultation with them will dictate what happens after that. “Palusa Filk will take part as well. She is not a master yet, it is true, but she will be valuable in the discussions. And, of course, we would like to hear your opinion, Dr. Walt, though you do not need to take part in the actual discussions if you do not desire it. We know you have much to do with the new government and your research.” Dr. Walt nodded. The next day, Torim Jet and Palusa Filk showed the brothers around the keep. Their eyes started the morning wider than normal, and by the time they had finished with the first library, it did not appear that their heads could contain the huge orbs any longer. The group moved along to some of the training rooms, indoor arenas, and the parks that dotted the outskirts of the keep. “I had not imagined a structure such as this,” Brother Dilkin said. “It is not just that it is massive, but the craftsmanship of the building and the foresight of the builders amazes me.” Brother Mosian nodded emphatically in agreement. “Yes, it is a marvel,” Torim Jet said. “I have not been here long and am still discovering things I did

not know existed.” “I also sense in it some type of power, but not really the rohw. Was it built by rohw users?” “Ah, you are very perceptive. Apparently it was built using some type of power thousands of years ago, even before technology took hold, increased, and led to the Great War. We do not know what power it is. As you say, it seems related to the rohw, but then again, it is not the rohw. I do not know if we will ever discover how it was done, though Dr. Walt, for one, plans on doing research until he can do so.” Torim Jet chuckled. “Amazing,” Brother Mosian said. The group stopped at one of the parks and sat on a bench beneath a willow tree near a little stream. Torim Jet looked at Palusa Filk, who had seemed content to be mostly silent during the tour. She looked back at him, her face unreadable except for a little tension in the corner of her eyes. He was not sure how to discuss what he must discuss. He began anyway. “Brother Dilkin, what are your plans for the future?” Torim asked. The man looked startled. “My plans?” “Yes, your plans for the Order of the Rohw.” “I…I am not sure what you mean, Master Torim. My plans are what they have always been for the Order. We have awaited the time when the Zouyim would retrieve us and bring us out of

Rohwbyt and into the Order of the Zouyim.” “Yes, I understand,” Torim Jet said. “What I mean is, in what way are you expecting to be brought into the Zouyim Order?” Dilkin wore confusion on his face. “I do not know. The prophecies say that we will be brought out, but they do not speak of the time after that happens. We have always focused on the Zouyim finding us and not on what happens after. It would depend on what you decide.” “I see.” Torim Jet rubbed his temples and considered what to say next. After a moment, he continued. “There are some differences that have grown in your many years of isolation, beliefs and attitudes and traditions that differ from the Zouyim.” The master watched Dilkin’s face as he spoke. Understanding dawned on his features. “Yes, Master Torim. I agree and understand now.” He sighed in relief. “You are concerned that our ways may water down or change the Zouyim way, and so we should be brought into association in such a way that we do not affect the traditions of the Zouyim. Is that correct?” Torim Jet smiled, partly in relief and partly because it was a pleasure to deal with such an astute man. “Yes.” “Do not concern yourself, Master Torim. We will accept whatever type of association you wish to impose. We are humble servants, waiting for our

masters to rescue us from our isolation and to tell us which way we should go. Should you tell us to forget all that we know, we will do so and start as newborn babes.” “Now,” Torim Jet said, hands raised as if warding off the idea, “do not be so hasty. It is not as serious as that. You have developed abilities and uses of the rohw we, in our rigid traditions, have not. That is good. It will take time to sort through our differences and to decide on the future of the Zouyim Order, but do not fear that we will subjugate you and take these things that make you who you are.” Brother Dilkin bowed. “It is as you say, Master. We will do as you direct, trusting in your wisdom and honor.” “Excellent,” Torim said. “We will have to decide how to structure the taking in of your Order and where to house you all and what tasks you may do to aid us in our current crisis. There is more than enough room for all the people from Rohwbyt right here in the keep. We can—” “Pardon, Master Torim,” Brother Mosian said, “but Brother Dilkin and I have discussed this at length. Would it be too presumptuous to request that we be allowed to go to the site of the former Zouyim temple on Kokitura Mountain? Might we settle there and begin rebuilding the temple structures? With your guidance, of course.”

Torim Jet paused. He realized his mouth had dropped open and he closed it with a click. He saw that Palusa Filk’s head jerk toward the brother. “Build…rebuild the temple?” he stammered. Brother Mosian misunderstood and bowed deeply. “I am sorry, Master. Have I shown disrespect? I did not mean to. We have fine craftsman, and I thought it a good use of our hands and our effort. We will do whatever we are directed, of course, should it be building privies for the army or gardening in the parks. Please do not take offense.” The old Zouyim regained his composure. “No, brother, you have not been disrespectful. In fact, what you have offered is more than I could have hoped. I had simply not thought of it.” His vision became blurry from the moisture in his eyes. “The thought of rebuilding the temple now brings joy to my heart. I did not believe we would be able to do so until the current crisis is done, perhaps years from now. But what you say is reasonable. I will have to discuss it with Rindu, of course, as well as Sam and Dr. Walt, but I think it is a wonderful idea.” The huge smiles that appeared on the brothers’ faces, as well as on Palusa Filk’s, told him they were satisfied with his answer as well.

CHAPTER 13

S

am looked out at the miles of forest to the north. They would have to pass through all those trees. He sighed. Things had been so much easier—and faster—when they were able to use Ix’s abilities to skim from place to place instead of having to travel by rakkeben all day. He guessed he was just spoiled. “What are you thinking, Sam?” Nalia asked as she came up alongside him on Cleave. Sam looked over at her and smiled. “About how much traveling we still have to do. It feels like we’re going so slowly like this. I’m afraid Chetra Dal will reach the artifact before us.” “I understand,” she said. “I too am concerned about that. But we are doing our best to travel quickly. There is no sense in worrying about whether or not we are going fast enough. It will be

what it will be.” Sam blinked and rubbed his hand across his eyes, then blinked again. Nalia gave him a quizzical look. “What is wrong?” she asked. “Oh, nothing. I just had to make sure it was you and not your father I was speaking to.” He chuckled. “Very funny,” she said as she slapped his shoulder. “It is true. It is needless to worry about such things. We will do our best, and if we reach the artifact, we will keep it from Chetra Dal’s grasp. If not, we will determine another way to foil his plans.” “You’re probably right,” Sam said. “I’ll try to remember. Anyway, we should get moving. One thing I am sure of is that if we don’t move, we won’t find the last artifact.” The others came up to them. Rindu had as close to a frown on his face as Sam had ever seen. “I am uneasy,” he said, looking around. “There is a feeling in the air, within the rohw. I do not know what it is. I do not like it.” Sam thought for a moment. He felt uneasy, too. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, but something didn’t seem right. It was almost like when—long before he had ever heard of the rohw —he felt someone’s eyes on him, like he was being watched. It was unsettling.

“Me, either,” Sam said. “It is as if there is the shadow of something sinister, a memory of some wrongness,” Rindu continued. “We must be wary today, I think. Even more than normal.” The others remained silent, but their expressions were set, their body language showing their resolve. Even the rakkeben seemed extra alert. “We might as well move out,” Sam said. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, trying to remove the tension there. He looked around, expecting something to jump out at him. It was almost like he was traveling in a haunted forest. The word “spooky” came to mind. He sniffed, dismissing the thought. It was the same forest they’d left the night before. Maybe he was just tired. As they moved, Ix came up to him on her manu bird. “What do you think the brothers thought of Whitehall?” “I was thinking about that, too,” Sam said. “I’m sure they were impressed. How could they not be? The place is amazing.” “True,” the assassin said. She thought a moment and then continued. “What will the Zouyim do with them, do you think? Not the brothers, but the whole Order of the Rohw?” “What do you think, Ix?” Rindu asked. “How

should the Zouyim treat a whole community that believe they will be brought into the Zouyim Order?” She looked almost embarrassed. “I…I meant no disrespect.” “Nor was there any taken,” the monk said. “I asked the question sincerely. What do you think should be done? I would like to hear your opinion on it.” “I think that—” The assassin was not able to finish. Rindu launched himself from his rakkeben and tackled her, pulling her out of the saddle. She rolled to her feet, glaring murderously at the Zouy, but then her eyes shifted to an arrow quivering in a tree just to the side of where she had been. She gave a tense smile to the monk. The two jumped back to their feet in an instant, just as other arrows streaked toward them. Emerius dove to the ground, the humans leapt off their rakkeben, and the big wolves charged into the forest to take cover. Sam broke his staff into the two sticks without thinking and swept aside two arrows at they came at him. Nalia cut three from the air as well. The projectiles seemed to be coming from the same direction, to the northeast. Sam started moving toward the source, but Rindu was faster. He and the assassin were strides ahead of him, moving

through the growth between the trees. As he tried to catch up, Sam saw Ix disappear. There was a commotion ahead, some crashing of the vegetation and the sound of hard objects striking each other. Sam knew that Ix had teleported to where the hidden archers were and sprinted faster, recklessly hurtling through the bushes, vines, and creepers. When he, Rindu, and Nalia caught up to Ix, she was battling two foes. One was using a bow stave to try to strike her while the other attempted to cut her with its long fingernails. The pair looked like long, stretched humans, though their heads were much too big to be normal people. They wore only loincloths over their sinewy bodies. Their grayish skin rippled as they moved in ways that it wasn’t possible for a man to move, too flexible and fluid for a normal human. Sam gulped when he realized what they were. Bhorgabir. Even as the others arrived to help Ix, one of the mutants nodded to the other, threw its bow at Ix while tossing some item to the ground, and they both disappeared in the smoke caused by the object. The party searched the area but could not find the creatures. “They’re gone,” Sam said. “What was the point in that attack?” Ix asked. “Were they hoping to whittle us down, striking one

at a time with arrows and then retreating to attack again later?” “That is perhaps the case,” Rindu said, “but I think there is more to it. Let us continue moving, and it could be we will find them again. We may find even more than we expect.” The party continued onward, heading northeast through the tangled and twisted vegetation. Mostly there were pine, but oak and alder were interspersed as well, even an occasional cottonwood, choked with various shrubs in between the trees. With no tracks visible, their progress was slow. They moved unmounted, the foliage too close for them to ride the rakkeben and the manu. Every eye darted around the forest ahead, around, and behind them. The assassins could not have gone far. Sam wondered what kind of game they were playing. Was it a chance encounter, or had the bhor been waiting for them? He shivered at the thought of the latter. Within a mile, it was clear that it was not a coincidence that the bhor were there. They were moving through the green landscape, the rakkeben, Oro, and the manu spread out to the side and behind the humans, when Rindu called them to a halt. “I sense something up ahead,” he told them. “I am not sure what it is, but the rohw is disturbed. Let us proceed carefully.”

It was only another fifty feet before he stopped them again. “Just ahead. I still cannot determine exactly what it is, but there is something…” Each of the others tightened their grip on their weapons. Since the attack by the two bhor, they had all had their weapons out and ready, Sam with Ahimiro, Nalia with her shrapezi, Rindu with Sunedal, and Ix with her ring daggers. Emerius had an arrow nocked, ready to loose in an instant. Rindu was on point, with Sam and Nalia close behind him. Ix and Emerius brought up the rear. Sam noticed the expression on Rindu’s face, such a slight thing that most others would not have noticed. He only did because of his close association with the man. It showed worry and more than a little confusion. As he was wondering what Rindu sensed, a twig snapped softly below his feet. Then it was all motion and chaos. Several large objects hurtled toward the party from straight ahead while at the same time a flash of movement, many small projectiles, came at them from the side. Instinct told Sam he could not simply flatten himself on the ground. Emerius was directly behind him and did not have the rohw-enhanced reflexes Sam had developed. If the objects coming from directly ahead—they appeared to be large wedges, probably razor sharp—passed by him, they would certainly strike the archer. Instead, he whirled,

separating Ahimiro into the two sticks as he turned. Whipping the sticks around in a figure eight pattern, he deflected the darts from the side, some of them striking his sticks and embedding themselves there. He cleared them just in time for four of the larger, wedge-shaped objects to reach him. He was able to pick out each of the arrowhead-like objects and bat it down to the forest floor with his sticks, though he barely was able to strike the last one out of the air before it had a chance to reach him. He only had to clear a corridor in the rain of projectiles the size of his body. The others passed by him without striking him. Emerius hit the ground with a thud behind him, and Sam hoped it was the archer diving to the ground and not being struck. He was absently aware of Ix disappearing before any of the weapons touched her. Nalia and Rindu, of course, deflected a wider swath of the items coming at them. Silence fell. Sam stood there, sticks at the ready, two darts stuck in one and a single dart in the other. He didn’t relax his guard as he continued to scan the forest. “Is everyone all right?” he asked. “I am fine,” Rindu said. “I, too,” Nalia answered. “No worries for me,” Ix said from a dozen feet away. “Emerius?” Sam said, wanting to look back

toward where the hunter had dropped but not wanting to take his eyes off the forest just yet. “Damn it,” Emerius said. “It’s hard for a guy to be around you folks, you know that? Always someone or something trying to kill me in new and inventive ways.” “Were you hit?” Sam asked. “No.” Sam breathed out, realizing he had been holding his breath. “…thanks to you,” the hunter continued. “If you hadn’t knocked those things aside, there’s no way I would have been able to get out of the way in time. I owe you one.” “Don’t worry about it,” Sam said. “We watch each other’s backs. That’s what friends do.” “I guess,” Emerius said as he got to his feet with a grunt. When it was clear that nothing else was going to happen, Sam relaxed and looked at Rindu. “What happened?” “I believe,” the monk said while stepping toward Sam, “that you stepped on a twig which, when broken, released two tightened cords. Those, in turn allowed the mechanism with the projectiles to activate.” “Oh,” Sam said, feeling his face flush. “Sorry.” “Do not worry about it, Sam,” Nalia said. “Even my father was not able to detect the trigger

for this trap. Not precisely, anyway.” “It is true, Sam. You have no fault in this. It was purely mechanical, with no rohw component to detect.” He looked around at the others. “Besides, it appears that no one was struck.” Rindu took one of the darts Sam had knocked to the ground and inspected it. “Hmm. It does not appear to be poison. I do not understand that. I would think that if someone went to the trouble of setting a trap, they would put poison on the darts. I wonder why they did not.” Sam plucked another of the darts off his stick and looked it over carefully. It was made of some type of stone, very sharp. It was crudely chipped, which must have accounted for the way they wobbled in the air as they had been flying at him. As Rindu said, there did not appear to be poison on it. “Maybe they’re not ready to kill us just yet,” Ix said as she appeared beside Emerius. Sam thought about how it would be to be able to teleport instantly like that. His ability seemed so slow compared to hers. “What do you mean?” Sam asked. “They may just be playing with us, trying to shake us up and get in our heads. I don’t believe for a second that those two we saw are the only ones around. Also, this trap took a while to set up. This isn’t a spontaneous thing. We’re being hunted. I

think I should skim ahead and see if there are any other traps,” Ix said. “No,” Sam answered immediately. “They may be trying to get us to do that, trying to make you use your abilities to jump right into one of those rohw traps again.” “I teleported just now to escape those darts,” she said. “Nothing happened.” “I know,” Sam said, “but you didn’t go far. If you skim up farther, though, you may run into the same kind of trap you encountered before. It’s too risky.” “I must agree with Sam,” Rindu said. “We cannot allow you to become trapped. We must continue ahead and be wary of any of these more conventional traps. There are still at least two bhorgabir out there, as well, do not forget. We must stick together as a group and work our way slowly out of this thick forest.” “Fine,” Ix grumbled. “I’ll stick with the rest of you, but I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.” Sam thought that he had never agreed with her more.

CHAPTER 14

V

ahi listened to the report of the two bhor he had sent to harry the humans. Chetra Dal had finally allowed the bhorgabir to gather as one, once they discovered where the humans were. “They are very skilled,” Mahri said. He was only nineteen years old and had been excited to be one of the two who made first contact with the enemy. “Our arrows did not strike them, and I believe we would have been hard-pressed to defeat them. Of course, they outnumber us…” Tenu interrupted, “They would have defeated us, regardless of the reason. It is clear that they are not easy prey. We escaped and remained close enough to monitor their progress and their success at the first of the traps. As Mahri says, they are very skilled.”

Vahi considered for a moment. “I know. I have fought two of the Zouyim. One of them struck me. I do not underestimate their prowess in battle.” He rubbed his pointed chin and looked off into the forest. “Still, we have planned and prepared. The traps may injure one or more of them, weaken them. Even if they don’t, they will be affected. They will be tired, overly wary, their nerves on edge. We have time. We will be patient and strike at the right moment.” He turned his attention back to the two in front of him. “What is their status right now?” “We turned over the reconnaissance to Lika and Hila so we could report to you,” Tenu said. “They are tracking the humans now.” “Good,” Vahi said. “You can go back into rotation with the others. Be sure that you are careful if your turn comes up again to watch them. The Zouyim can sense us when we are too close. Being drawn into a battle with such as these without our full number would be…disappointing.” Mahri straightened and his chin came up. “They will not sense us. We are bhorgabir. We can ride shadows and disappear in bright sunlight.” Tenu, the older of the two by a good seven years, shook his head. Mahri was young yet. He would learn caution. If he survived this assault. Vahi was completely truthful; these foes were more dangerous than any they had faced before.

Attacking the party without caution could be disastrous. He would make sure that they were careful. Very careful. Throughout the day, pairs of bhor reported to him. The party drew closer to where the bulk of the bhor waited, defeating each of the carefully laid traps in their way. Based on the encounters the humans had with Dal’s troops in previous days and assuming that the humans knew where the last artifact was, the bhor had scoured the area of the countryside where Vahi expected them to be. He had already figured out that they transported themselves away by some magic every evening— probably back to their fortress—and back every morning. All he needed to do was to find exactly where they were at any given time, and then he could put his plan in place. Chance had let the bhorgabir find where the people had been the day before. They ran into the trail very close to where it ended. The humans were not trying to hide evidence of their passing. There was even a depression in the grass where the young one had meditated. Chetra Dal said that one used the rohw to teleport, much like the artifact Azgo, the bell, could. To do that, he had to meditate and learn the vibration of the area to which he wanted to travel, his master had said. Vahi mobilized his bhor, leaving two close by to harass the enemies and taking the rest with him to lay the necessary

traps. The bhorgabir had all night to prepare. They couldn’t assume the humans would travel in the right direction, so they would need to be prodded, harried, goaded into going where Vahi wanted. A series of traps and possibly short encounters with some of the bhor would channel their prey to the location Vahi chose, where they would be attacked by the full number of the mutants. The key was to find a location where the humans’ superior combat skills—as loath as Vahi was to admit—could be neutralized, or at least mitigated. He had found such a location, far enough away from the original starting point that the humans would be tired, far enough that it would take them more than half a day to get there moving warily because of the previous traps and attacks. “Mahri has been killed,” Hila told Vahi. His second-in-command had taken himself out of the rotation for tracking the humans as they got closer to the final confrontation. Well, so much for passing a few more years and losing some of his recklessness. “How did it happen?” Vahi asked. “They were sloppy and allowed themselves to be seen. The Zouyim threw some kind of dart and struck him in the eye. While he was trying to regain his composure to escape, three arrows struck him in the other eye. The Sapsyr finished him quickly with

those hooked swords of hers. Tenu escaped, but barely.” Vahi sighed. “Our first casualty. Make sure the others recognize that they cannot be seen. Let the traps do the work, watch from a distance. Do not engage the enemy.” “I’ll tell them,” Hila said. “Maybe with Mahri’s death, they will understand what we face.” Despite the warning, two more of the bhor fell. That left nineteen, including Vahi himself. The scouts reported that the humans had suffered minor injuries from some of the traps and combat with the bhor who were careless enough to be seen. Still, they were sound, able to fight well enough to remain a great threat. And they were coming closer. “They will be at the last trap soon,” Hila said. “I have pulled everyone back to their positions in anticipation of the final ambush.” “Good,” Vahi said. He wondered if they should go through with this. He had been sure the traps would have taken at least one or two of the party by now. All five were still alive. He didn’t like the odds, even with their well-planned ambush. “Will we proceed?” Hila asked, obviously guessing what his leader was thinking. “We can disappear and regroup at the backup location. We have time to try to grind them down again in the coming days.” Those were Vahi’s thoughts exactly. Could they

defeat these five? “No,” he said. “If they pass through the last trap and continue the rest of the day unhindered, they will return tomorrow with more warriors, or with devices or weapons that will shift the odds even more in their favor. We must act now.” “Very well,” Hila said. “I’ll assemble the bhor in their places.” He started leaving, but then turned back to face Vahi. “It will be a battle for the stories, this one. I can’t recall any tales of bhor fighting Zouyim or Sapsyra, let alone both.” Vahi nodded, still not comfortable with either of his choices. “Yes, it will be. Prepare the bhor. I will be there in a few minutes.” Hila nodded and walked away briskly. He had a job to do, and he would do it, just as all the bhorgabir would. Vahi hoped it would be enough. The leader of the bhor listened as the last trap was activated. It was a nasty thing, consisting of trip wires, pits, projectiles, and several stout branches that swept an area big enough for ten times their number to be caught. There was even a young tree that had been bent backward and attached to a cascading series of trip wires so that —well after the initial trap was sprung—it struck downward with a package of rocks tied up in cloth to crush any underneath. It was like a giant flail wielded by a huge arm. He didn’t hear any screams. Disappointing.

From the trap, the only way forward was through a narrow area between trees and a cliff face. It was not a place Vahi himself—or any prudent person, for that matter—would go, but it was either that or go back. The humans would expect a trap there, but they would have no alternative. At that choke point, Vahi planned to take advantage of his numbers and stealth. The bhorgabir were arranged around the narrow pathway, a few in trees, some on the cliffs, but most hunkered down in the thick foliage surrounding the path. Each was ordered to keep the next bhor in sight. Vahi would start the countdown by holding both hands up, then slowly counting down while dropping fingers. Each subsequent bhor would do the same, up to the last one in the line. Only a fraction of a second’s delay would be introduced. All the assassins had bows. Once the count got to five, they would pick up their bows in one of their hands, arrow already nocked. Some had grumbled about not being able to look their enemies in the eyes as they killed them. They didn’t seem to realize that in a face-to-face confrontation with these humans, the results would be unfortunate for the bhor. Vahi raised both hands, letting the bow lean against him. He saw the next bhor, Hila, raise his hands, and then two more bhor in succession, before those further down the line were not visible

to him. He took a breath and dropped one finger, noting that Hila did the same. He waited a few seconds to drop another finger. He now had eight in the air. Seven. Whereas he had only heard the humans until then—actually, he only heard the young one and the bear; the rest made almost no noise—he spotted movement through the vegetation. Six. Five. Vahi reached down and picked up his bow, fitting an arrow to the string. He put his right hand back in the air with his fingers up. Four. He could now see the first person, the Zouyim. His off-white robes moved as he walked but he made no sound. He was moving slowly and warily. Three. The young man came next, the Sapsyr at his side. Two. The other two, the woman who carried the circular metal weapons and the hunter, came into view. One. The rakkeben ghosted through the foliage, along with the bear. It was the biggest bear Vahi had ever seen. He hoped they could take it down with arrows. Vahi had picked this spot partly because the wind seemed not to shift. They were downwind, so they would not be detected by the wolves or the bear. Vahi dropped his hand and put it immediately to

his bow. He drew it to his cheek smoothly, aimed at the young man—Chetra Dal had told him killing this man was the priority—and released. Eighteen other bowstrings strummed at the same time, but he didn’t pay attention. He was already drawing a second arrow and releasing. The bhor leader had assigned targets to his underlings. Fully half of them shot at the young man, their highest priority target. He wasn’t sure why Dal wanted him dead more than the others, but Vahi followed his orders. The other half were assigned to the Zouyim and the Sapsyr, five on the first and four on the second. The other two humans could be targeted after their primary prey had been dispatched. The archers could fire two arrows per second for a few seconds, and then fatigue would slow them to one per second or even once every two seconds. Vahi hoped the wave of arrows would be enough. The young man twisted and spun, separating his porzul wood staff into the two fighting sticks. He batted away several arrows and dodged the others. Most of them. He was grazed by one of Vahi’s arrows and another struck his forearm, but it was not severe enough to make him lose his grip on the sticks. The bhor leader kept shooting. A single mistake could end this for the man. As his target, as well as the monk and the Sapsyr, dodged and struck arrows from the air, the

small, black-clad woman disappeared. Movement in the foliage off to Vahi’s left made him realize what had happened. She had teleported to where one of the bhor hid and engaged him. If she surprised one of them, she may be able to incapacitate or kill him, making one less archer. He hoped she didn’t take too many of them down before she herself was killed. The three targets still persisted in avoiding the arrows coming at them. The wolves and the bear had rushed into the trees, obviously going to attack the hidden archers. Already, the numbers of arrows flying had dropped by half, a combination of redirecting the projectiles to charging beasts and archers switching to melee weapons. It was not looking good. The tipping point was reached as the enemies closed in to engage individual bhor, and almost all of the bhor swapped their bows for either their own claws or other weapons. The humans were jumbled within them so closely that the bows had become worthless. The hunter still targeted bhor with his bow, but the assassins opted for their weapons of expertise. Close range weapons. Vahi himself shot three more arrows at the hunter. One of them grazed his shoulder, but he moved so fast, dodging this way and that, it was difficult to aim at him. He shot four arrows almost at the same time and Vahi slithered around them.

Dodging arrows was like bread and butter to the bhor. It was almost the first thing the young assassins-in-training learned. When Vahi stopped moving, he sensed more than saw a blade coming at him. He moved automatically, twisting to the side and a little down, allowing the blade to slice the air a hair’s breadth away. He recovered and looked at his opponent. It was the Sapsyr. He looked her in the eyes and flashed a wicked smile. His sharp teeth were gruesome and his large eyes fear-inspiring, he knew, but they did not seem to faze this one. She crossed her swords in a salute, put on a small smile of her own, and came at him. Vahi slashed viciously at her throat with the left hand and her midsection with his right, coming in from opposite directions. The woman didn’t even flinch. She blocked the claws to her throat with one sword and sliced the tip off two of his claws going for her abdomen with the other. Vahi jumped back before the twirling blades could take his head. His skin was tough, as all bhor skin was. So were his claws. In fact, they were so tough that most edged weapons could not even penetrate the skin. He had not thought that anything could cut his claws as she had just done. This one might be trouble. Before the next attack, two bhor rushed the Sapsyr. Chala and Behru. Vahi scanned the other

parts of the battlefield before joining them. The Zouyim was fighting three of the bhorgabir. Three! And he was striking them occasionally. That in itself was impressive, but Vahi thought he saw bruising on one of the assassins. The monk must have been striking not just with his hands and feet, but with the rohw as well. The hunter had killed two bhor by striking the eyes multiple times with arrows. The bhor knew of their own weakness and had long ago evolved reflexes and musculature to twitch their heads very quickly to foil such a strategy. This hunter must be extremely skilled to hit such a small target while compensating for the defense mechanism. The female assassin popped in and out across the battlefield, taking advantage of surprise to try to incapacitate the bhor quickly. She was having some measure of success, though he saw at least three groups of bhor clustered so one group could strike out if the woman appeared near another. That seemed to be working as well as could be expected. As for the young man, he was fighting two of the bhorgabir with those sticks. Vahi could have sworn that at times, when the stick struck part of one of the man’s opponents, it glowed slightly. He was using the rohw as well, and holding his own against master assassins. Vahi drew his attention from other parts of the battlefield and concentrated on the Sapsyr. Two

bhor were striking at her, one on her left side and the other behind her. She was still facing Vahi, so he rushed in to help. Wary of the swords, Vahi decided to attack her legs. If he could trip her or damage her legs, she would be much easier to defeat. He kicked at her tendons just above her heel, hoping to sever them, but one of her feet came up and turned aside his strike. Then the foot shot up more quickly than Vahi thought possible, and he felt himself tumbling to the ground, half his face burning as if it was on fire. He shook his head to regain his senses and joined the fray again. But the Sapsyr had not paused. As her foot came down, she swung her swords to block Behru’s claws with one while reversing the other and digging a furrow into Chala’s chest. She turned the block into a circular motion, sliding the razor-sharp blade around Behru’s wrist. Vahi was surprised to see a red line grow into a wound that leaked blood in a constant stream. She had almost taken his hand off at the wrist, despite the thick, leathery skin protecting it. Both of the bhor flowed away from the woman, out of range of her swords, then like waves, came crashing back. Chala tried to grab at her left arm to wrench the sword from it, and for that, she lost half her arm as the Sapsyr brought the long blade down along the arm and then pulled the hook toward her

to capture the appendage. Blood spurted from the wound, and Vahi knew that Chala would weaken and die soon. Behru, wrist still bleeding, tried to move around the Sapsyr’s guard to slash at her eyes while Vahi struck at her spine from behind, hoping to land a blow and affect her ability to move. Chala, knowing she was doomed, launched an attack with her good arm as well, from the Sapsyr’s right side and aimed at her throat. The human spun counterclockwise, bringing her swords near her body like a shield. There was not a great amount of power in them, so the blades could not penetrate the bhor’s thick skin, but the force was enough to deflect all the strikes of the three assassins. She continued her spin while moving to her side, away from them. As she traveled, she extended one of her swords and slashed. The momentum from the spin, coupled with the extension of her arm, gave the strike a tremendous amount of power. Behru almost dodged the blow, but it sliced his ear, shearing it completely from his head. Vahi was beginning to get frustrated. He had once fought two Zouyim and a warrior with a sword and had taken only one hit. There was no way this woman should have been able to foil their joint attacks. The proof was there, though. Chala stumbled. She was weak from blood loss and would

soon not be able to stand. She was finished with this battle. Vahi looked to Behru and nodded. Without hesitating, they both rushed the Sapsyr again. Vahi struck at the woman over and over, as did his fellow. High strikes to the face became slashes to the abdomen, which in turn became flurries aimed at her throat, eyes, and other vital areas. He struck out as fast as he could, trying to inundate the Sapsyr. She turned aside every blow she did not simply dodge. His fellow bhor had no more success. The one saving grace in the battle was that since they attacked her relentlessly, she was unable to swing the sword in large enough arcs to do serious damage to the bhor skin. Still, Vahi could see a few scratches on his companion and knew he himself had some as well, even if he couldn’t feel them in the heat of battle. Suddenly, Behru made a noise Vahi couldn’t quite place. It was something between a gasp and a gurgle. Vahi didn’t like the sound of it. The other bhor looked at his leader, shrugged slightly, and then his eyes dulled and he fell forward. As he did, Vahi saw what had happened. The Sapsyr had somehow maneuvered the bhor so that she could wrap her arm around him and pull the spiked part of her sword toward herself. It was enough force to puncture the brain stem at the base of his skull. Now it was only Vahi and her.

Vahi glanced around him. The only two other bhor standing were fighting losing battles to the humans. It was done. They had lost. The Sapsyr burst into motion, twirling those blades in a complex figure eight type movement that kept her covered at all times. She moved toward him, feet twitching as if preparing to kick. Vahi feinted a few times, trying to draw her guard out, but she didn’t bite. He kicked at her legs with lightning speed, but she casually shifted them a few inches, just enough to keep from being struck, and then she whipped her swords out in double slashes that Vahi barely avoided. He realized there was no way he could defeat the woman while she held the blades. His mind whirled trying to figure out what he would do. She came at him with combinations of slashes, jabs and kicks, twirling to gain momentum for her strikes yet maintaining her guard even as she spun. Vahi slapped aside two slashes and moved in to jam a spin kick as it hurtled toward him. He struck out three times, lightning quick, trying to strike her face and throat. He had stopped her spin, but she was too skilled a warrior to be surprised by his strikes. She raised a shoulder to deflect one, rotated her arm to block the next with one of her swords, and struck at Vahi’s arm to foil the third. The woman was fast! Continuing the motion from the sword strike to

his arm, the Sapsyr spun the blade up and around, dragging the spike across the bhor’s forearm. Pain screamed through him as it scratched him. The wound was not serious, but it hurt. Extending her arm as she rotated her body, the hook side of the same sword slashed across Vahi’s chest. This time, he felt the skin part. He jumped back to avoid the sword strike from her other arm. Looking down, he saw blood oozing from the gash in his chest. Too close. He had to think of something fast. The woman did not let up. She lunged at him, and he slithered to the side just enough to miss the blade. He dropped his shoulder and rolled to his right to gain some distance. As he did, he grasped at an object on the ground so that when he came to his feet again, he was holding the quiver with arrows still in it. Grabbing the arrow shafts near the fletching, Vahi flung the quiver itself at the woman. She easily knocked it from the air with her sword and squared off against him once again. She had a curiosity in her eyes, as if to ask him what he planned on doing with the arrows he had in his hand, but she said nothing. It was time. Vahi threw the dozen arrows at the Sapsyr, rotating his torso to lend them power, splaying them out just before releasing them so that they went toward her in a fan. The wall of projectiles, though not as fast as if from a bow, still

took all the woman’s concentration to dodge or deflect. In the second it took her to defeat the obstacle, Vahi turned and ran through the heaviest foliage, away from the rest of the humans. As he darted, four arrows came at him, almost at the same time. One struck his shoulder but did not penetrate, and the other three narrowly missed him as he darted to the side, expecting that the hunter would shoot at him as soon as he was not in close proximity to the Sapsyr. Three more arrows struck trees as Vahi flowed around them. No matter their other skills, these humans could not catch him at a dead run through thick vegetation. He moved like a snake, losing no speed in dodging smoothly around obstacles. Soon, he was far enough away that he could not even hear them finishing off the last of his brethren. The wound in his chest would not cause him to bleed to death, but he’d need to stop the bleeding anyway. Bhorgabir healed quickly, as they were created to do. He would survive, but that did not minimize the pain he felt in his heart over being the last of the bhor. In one battle, an entire species was doomed to extinction. Yet he still lived, and as long as he lived, there was hope for the future. He had to get back to Chetra Dal and report his failure. He would not enjoy that. He would do it, and he would mourn his people, and then he would determine how to take

vengeance on those who had destroyed the entire race of assassins. It wasn’t personal, and he didn’t think it with a hot temper. It simply needed to be done. Somehow. He was the only one left to do it, so do it he would.

CHAPTER 15

N

alia watched as the last bhorgabir fled through the forest. It was unnatural the way the creature moved through the terrain, flowing around objects as if it was made of water. The forest was not her domain, and she knew she could never catch her foe. Emerius had stopped shooting arrows after the first eight. The bhor could no longer be seen through the thick trees and undergrowth. It was gone. She surveyed the battlefield. There were corpses of the foul creatures everywhere. They bled surprisingly little compared to normal humans, but red still splashed foliage and rocks throughout the clearing. It wasn’t a clearing when the battle started. It was a space between trees filled with bushes and other small plants, but those had all been trampled or cut in the melee.

“Are you okay, Nal?” Sam asked as he limped up to her. She could see three parallel gashes on his right leg, obviously made by the claws of one of the bhorgabir. Nasty creatures indeed. “I am well,” she said. “How are you? Are you injured badly?” “No,” he responded, “just a few nicks and scratches. I’m satisfied, considering what we’ve just been through.” The others were moving as well. Ix and Rindu walked toward where she and Sam stood with Emerius, who was scanning the bodies to see if any were still alive to ambush them when they were no longer wary. Any he found, he finished by plunging his long knife into their over-large eyes. She did not have it within her to stop him. The rakkeben were sniffing around for survivors as well. Shonyb found one, and all three of the wolves set upon it and tore it to shreds. The lupine creatures all had injuries as well, though none that were too serious. Oro had some gashes, but seemed lazy and ready for a nap, as he always seemed—except during the battle. His ferocity was fearful when the fighting was hottest. The manu bird wandered nearby, oblivious of the nearness of death for it and its rider. “Well,” Ix said, “that was…interesting. Do you think there are any more of them? Other than that one that just got away, I mean.”

“It surprises me that there were this many to begin with,” Rindu said. “Who could have thought that creatures created during the Great War would still be around in such numbers?” “I don’t know,” Sam said. “There seem to be a lot of the riati, so why not these too?” “That is a valid point, Sam,” Rindu said. “I wonder what other things there are from the Great War that we haven’t met yet,” Sam said. “These were bad enough. Are there worse things? If so, when are they going to come after us?” “That is something to think about another time,” Nalia said. “For now, I believe we should return to Whitehall to dress our wounds and rest for tomorrow’s journey. We are not done yet. Chetra Dal still seeks the last artifact, and we must obtain it before he does.” “I hate to suggest this,” Sam said, “but I think we should leave this area before I learn the location we will return to tomorrow. I don’t like the thought of returning to this spot and being ambushed by others who may have not been included in today’s battle. Besides, there will probably be a lot of wild animals here tomorrow, eating the corpses. I’d just as soon not fight them, too.” “Sam’s right,” Ix said. “As much as I don’t want to do it, we should put in a few miles before leaving.” “Eighteen.” Emerius said as he limped up to the

others. “That’s how many there were, aside from the one that got away. I just counted them. Twice. That sounds like it should be all of them, though it’s hard to tell because they were so spread outwhen I tried to count them earlier.” The hunter had a broken off arrow in his left thigh, another in his left calf, and was bleeding in several other locations where arrows had grazed him. He looked a mess. He picked up on the mood of the others. “What did I miss? What’s going on?” “We just realized we have to leave the area, get some distance away before we stop and teleport back to Whitehall,” Ix said. “Yeah,” the hunter sighed, “that sounds right. We don’t want to pop back here tomorrow morning in the middle of packs of scavengers fighting over food.” Ix winked at Sam, which caused Nalia to glare at the woman. “It is decided, then,” Rindu said. “It is said, ‘the hardest step is the first one.’ Let us begin.” Emerius needed help to get onto Oro’s back. The rakkeben were sound enough to be ridden, but only Sam mounted. Nalia’s scratches and cuts did not interfere with her walking, and Rindu had surprisingly few wounds. Nalia marveled once again at her father. An entire clan of bhorgabir could not injure the man. Ix had few injuries, too, no doubt because of her ability to teleport away

from danger. To be fair, however, the assassin was skilled at combat. Nalia knew this from personal experience. Ix had done her part in the battle, though she could have teleported away. She was not a coward. The party traveled for a long two hours. Nalia saw Sam and Emerius wince and heard them grunt occasionally when their mounts crossed over a difficult patch of forest. Her own cuts stung as she moved, but she ignored them. Pain was an old friend to her. Sam finally brought them to a halt. “Do you think this is far enough?” he asked no one in particular. Each of the others traded glances but said nothing. “Emerius?” The hunter’s face had become pale. They had not removed the arrows still in him, wanting to wait until they could stop the bleeding more effectively and keep the wounds from getting infected. He nodded to Sam. “This should be good,” he whispered, not able to draw up the strength for a normal volume. “Okay, good.” Sam slid off Shonyb and grunted as his landing jarred his leg. They had bandaged it to stop the bleeding but did nothing else to treat it. “Give me a few minutes to learn this area, and then we’ll go home.” It took almost fifteen minutes for Sam to learn the area. Nalia thought it was probably because the

pain and blood loss weakened his focus. She wished she could help, but it was something only he could do. Ix had offered to teleport them all back to Whitehall, but though not as injured as Sam, she was so fatigued she had to cling to her manu bird to keep from falling. If she had tried to bring them all back to the fortress, she may not have survived the attempt. At least, that was what Sam claimed. Nalia thought he was probably correct. Once he signaled to them, they all gathered around him and he teleported them back to Whitehall. First would be healing, then rest. Sam had been gathering herbs during their travels when he happened upon them. Thanks to Inoria’s teachings, he knew enough to create a respectable stockpile of analgesic and antiseptic herbs back at Whitehall. Hopefully they could travel the next day, but that remained to be seen. It was enough that they were still all alive. The other things could be worked out. When they appeared in their normal teleportation spot, Dr. Walt and Lahim Chode were waiting for them. “There is something we need to discuss right away. It’s an emergency.” Sam had barely noticed the men when Emerius stumbled and started to fall. Sam caught the hunter, ducking under his arm to support him. The big man’s head lolled toward Sam, and his eyelids fluttered over green eyes. He had lost a lot of blood

and was weak. Dr. Walt stopped speaking as soon as Emerius fell. His eyes became progressively wider, his bushy white eyebrows climbing up his forehead, as he noticed the injuries on each of the others as well. “Oh, no,” Lahim Chode said. “It happened already. I was too late.” Sam didn’t pay any attention to the man. He felt weak himself and was having a hard time holding Emerius upright. “We need to get him to a bed right now,” Sam said. “Yes, yes of course,” Dr. Walt said. “Here, let me help.” He got on the other side of the hunter and supported him as Sam was doing. They walked as quickly as they could toward the keep. “Stop,” Ix shouted. Sam and Dr. Walt both paused and looked at her. She came up next to them. “I can teleport him right to his room. Well, near it anyway, to my room. Then we can walk him to his. It will be much quicker.” “Yes, good idea,” Sam said. “Thank you.” Ix edged out Dr. Walt and put Emerius’s arm around her shoulders. It made for an interesting sight because the hunter was a good foot taller than her. “Ready?” she asked Sam. “Yes.” “I will bring a healer to his room,” Dr. Walt said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Ix only nodded, and then Sam felt the familiar feeling of displacement that always accompanied her teleportation. It was different than what he felt with his own traveling. He wondered if it was because he was not the one actually causing it to happen or if it felt different to everyone. He’d have to ask Nalia. They appeared in Ix’s room. They headed out the door and down the hall to the room Emerius used. He tried to help, to walk, but his legs buckled. He was muttering something unintelligible, but Sam only picked out a few words here and there. “Inoria,” “Ancha,” and “not yet” were the only ones Sam could understand. Because of their relative heights, Sam had to do the majority of the work in supporting Emerius. Ix helped how she could, but was too small to get the leverage to do much. Still, they got to Emerius’s room and got him settled onto his bed. “Water,” the hunter croaked. Ix grabbed a pitcher from the nightstand near his bed and poured water into a cup for him. He tried to grab it, but didn’t seem to be able to control his arms well enough to do so. Instead, Ix tipped the cup to his mouth and let some of the liquid trickle into his mouth. He took several gulps and then turned his head, closing his eyes and sighing. Sam felt Emerius’s forehead. “He’s getting warm. I think some of his wounds are already

starting to get infected. The herbs can’t work with the arrows still in his leg. I hope the healer gets here soon. He can take the arrows out.” Ix looked from Sam to Emerius, letting her gaze linger on the two arrows in his leg. “There is something I’ve been practicing, something that might help.” “What is it?” Sam asked. “I think I can control my ability enough to teleport myself and the arrow away. It’ll be less shock to his body if we don’t have to yank them from him.” Sam considered. He’d never thought of using teleportation like that. “Are you sure it’s safe? Won’t you just teleport him along with it since the arrow is inside him?” “I think I can do it without moving him,” Ix said. “The thought occurred to me a week ago, and I’ve been practicing it a little bit each night. I’ve had success in selecting one or two things that are touching each other but not me and only bringing those I choose with me when I teleport.” “I guess it’s worth a try. Even the healer can only rip the arrows out of him. That can’t be good for all the tissue in there.” “Okay,” the assassin said. “Hold onto him. I’m not sure if this will hurt or not.” She waited for Sam to get a grip on Emerius. He nodded to her when he was ready. Ix grasped the

broken arrow in the hunter’s thigh, holding it carefully to keep from touching him. A look of concentration came to her face, and then she disappeared. The arrow was gone with her. Emerius grunted in pain. Ix appeared again almost instantly next to where she had been, holding half an arrow shaft half covered with blood. The tip was a sharp triangle. Sam winced when he thought of pulling the projectile out of Emerius’s leg. There would have been more damage from that than it did going in. The assassin said nothing, only grabbed hold of the arrow in the hunter’s calf. She disappeared again, along with the arrow, and then reappeared holding it up for Sam to see. “That was great,” Sam said, releasing the man and digging into the pouch at his belt. He chewed up the herbs he had collected to make a pulpy compress and placed them over the arrow holes. “Can you shred some of the blanket to make a dressing?” Sam asked Ix. “The holes started bleeding when you removed the shafts.” Ix took out one of her ring daggers and in no time had bandages wrapped around the leg holding the compress to the wounds and slowing the bleeding. Sam took the opportunity to put more of the chewed-up herbs on the hunter’s other wounds. He rinsed his mouth with water from the pitcher

and spit it out in the basin. “Yuck,” he said. “Foul tasting stuff.” “Then why did you chew it?” Ix asked. “I had to. It needed to be crushed up and pulpy. That’s the most effective way without specialized tools. Inoria taught me that. I hope I haven’t swallowed too much of it, or I may get sick sometime soon.” Ix patted Sam’s arm. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Dr. Walt burst through the door, breathing heavily. Right on his heels was an older woman. She was heavyset and wore her gray hair wrapped up in a tight bun. Sam wasn’t sure what impressed him more—that Dr. Walt ran as fast as he must have run to get there so quickly, or that the woman did. “This is Marge Tousin,” Dr. Walt panted. “She’s one of the healers who have offered their services to the new government.” She pushed Sam aside and went straight to Emerius, searching his body for wounds. She dropped her bag to the floor as she did it. “Where are the arrows?” she said in a voice that seemed used to people obeying it. “I was told there were two arrows.” “I took them out,” Ix said. “Teleported out, not yanked.” “I see.” The woman eyed Ix, shrugged, and

then turned her attention back to Emerius. “You have put feverbane on the wounds. Very good. Your work again?” she asked Ix. “Nope. That was him.” The woman finally noticed who she had pushed aside. “Oh.” Her eyes had gone wide and her hands busied themselves in brushing off her dress. “Master Sharp. I didn’t see you there. My apologies. I—” “It’s fine,” Sam said. “Can you do something for him? We gave him water and dressed his wounds, but he feels like he’s getting a fever.” “Yes, yes, of course,” the woman said, regaining a bit of her composure. “Leave it to me. He’ll be all right. I’ll take care of everything.” She picked up her sack and started rifling through it, taking out jars and packets. It seemed like she had completely forgotten again that anyone else was in the room. Sam backed away to let her work. Ix and Dr. Walt did the same. When they got near the door, Sam saw Rindu and Nalia. He hadn’t heard them at all. For all he knew, they arrived the same time as the other, noisier two. “How is Emerius?” Rindu asked softly. “I think he’ll be okay,” Sam said. “He lost some blood, and his wounds are starting to get infected, but I put some herbs on them and the healer is taking care of him.”

“Perhaps we may be of assistance,” another voice said. Sam saw that Torim Jet, Palusa Filk, and the two Brothers of the Rohw were coming up the hallway. It was Brother Dilkin who had spoken. “Thank you,” Sam said, “but I think Marge has it under control.” The two brothers bowed their heads but said nothing. “Sam,” Torim Jet said. “You may want to let them do what they can. Remember, they have unique abilities for healing, ones I would very much like to see put into practice again.” “Okay, let’s give it a try.” Sam turned to Marge, who was busy lifting Emerius’s eyelids to look deeply into his eyes. “Marge, Brother Dilkin here is going to use some of his rohw magic on Emerius to try to aid in your treatment.” The woman’s eyes lit up and she looked as if she was going to argue, but then obviously decided she should not do so with the Hero of Gythe. She nodded and stepped aside. “Actually,” Brother Dilkin said, “Brother Mosian will perform the healing. He has a stronger ability with it than I. Brother.” He gestured toward the hunter. Brother Mosian stepped up to the bed and inspected Emerius. Taking a deep breath, he settled into a sort of relaxed stance, feet parallel, knees slightly bent. The healer frowned, and Torim Jet

leaned a little closer. The brother held both hands out in front of him, gracefully flowing into movements so complex Sam could hardly follow them. They didn’t seem to be separate motions, but one long continuous one that flowed like kelp Sam had seen underwater when he had snorkeled. Sam felt his eyes grow heavy, as if he was being hypnotized by the gyrations. Torim Jet had leaned even further forward, as had Rindu. Both were staring intently at Brother Mosian’s hands. Marge Tousin had settled back to lean against a wall, arms crossed in front of her. The others watched almost as intently as the Zouyim. Light began building from the brother’s softly glowing hands. As he moved through the hand motions, Sam realized where he had seen something like this before. Rindu had shown him how hand movements in the air could trace out characters in that odd ancient language, Syray. He thought maybe that was what Mosian was doing. The glow continued to increase. When Brother Mosian completed the hand gestures he had been performing, he lowered his palms—now shining brightly to Sam’s rohwsensitive sight—to Emerius’s left leg. The glow traveled from Mosian’s hands to the leg, surrounding it and going within it. Emerius grunted and twitched.

The energy coming off the brother’s hands sank into the leg, especially the wounds themselves, and there was a kind of flash. It reminded Sam of something being neutralized. The light changed from pure white to a dull orange and then dissipated. Mosian continued applying energy to other wounded areas and then finally onto the hunter’s head itself. When he waved his hands over Emerius’s forehead, the man tensed once, then relaxed, face going slack as his breathing became easier, the regular breathing of sleep. Brother Mosian stepped back and made a few motions with his hands, pointing his fingers down toward the floor. Sam wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw energy leaking out of his hands and dissipating into the room. Mosian took a sharp breath and then his shoulders slumped. When he looked Sam in the eyes, he looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days. “I have removed the infection and have begun the tissues knitting themselves. He will rest easy now. After a good night’s sleep, he will be able to move around, though I wouldn’t recommend battle.” He laughed, but seeing that no one else did, cut it short. “Thank you, Brother Mosian,” Brother Dilkin said. Sam was sure that the Zouyim and Nalia had seen the glowing rohw being used, but even without

that, the abrupt change in Emerius’s breathing was sign enough that something had happened. Marge shouldered her way to the bed and began looking over her patient. After listening to his heart, peering into his eyes—she had to lift his eyelids to do it— and feeling him for fever, she looked dumbstruck. She hesitantly lifted one of the compresses, the one on his thigh wound, and gasped. “How is this possible?” she asked. Sam looked at the arrow wound, which had been a nasty torn hole because of all the movement when the shaft was in his limb. It had closed up most of the way and looked like it had been healing for a week. “It is a simple thing, really,” Brother Mosian said. “In theory. Application is a little more difficult. The vibrations of the rohw stimulate the body’s repair mechanism. Energy infused in the right way causes it all to speed up, tissues to reproduce much more quickly than would otherwise be possible. So, too, with the infection. The rohw attacks it, vibrates it so quickly it liquefies, and then turns to gas so that it can be drawn out of the body and expelled where it can do no harm. Have you not seen the Zouyim do such things?” “The Zouyim,” Torim Jet said, “have never been able to do such things. True, we can correct imbalances in the rohw in an individual, and we can

promote healing so that it occurs more quickly than otherwise, but we cannot mend physical wounds in such a manner.” “Truly?” Brother Dilkin said. “Perhaps it is something discovered in our years of isolation. We would be honored to discuss it with you and show you what we know.” “That would be marvelous,” Rindu said. “Thank you, Brothers.” Marge stood near the bed wringing her hands. There were tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said as she bowed. “Thank you. I have never seen anything like that in thirty years of healing.” “You are very welcome,” Brother Mosian said. “It was my privilege to help.” Dr. Walt had produced a small notebook from somewhere and he was furiously writing in it. Sam was sure the brothers would be interviewed later. “Let us allow Emerius to rest,” Torim Jet said to Nalia, Rindu, Sam, and Ix. “We still must dress your wounds as well. And then we can speak of this miraculous use of the rohw.” They all agreed and left the room. This, at least, was a bit of good news to temper the day they had endured. He thought maybe they would be able to travel. His own injuries weren’t that serious. He just hoped they wouldn’t be too late to get the last artifact. Maybe he wouldn’t be laid up for several days after all.

CHAPTER 16

“Y

ou have learned how to harmonize your rohw with others,” Rindu said to Sam as they sat and ate breakfast. “You finally understood and implemented the technique in time to help defeat Ayim Rasaad. You, Nalia, and I melded our energies, matched frequencies, so to speak, so that we could act as one. With that energy shielding Nalia, she was able to defeat Ayim Rasaad in combat without being harmed by her awkum.” Sam nodded as Dr. Walt sat down. Sam thought the scholar had probably heard half of what Rindu had said. He looked interested, his eyebrows high up on his forehead, his eyes focused on Rindu’s mouth. “It is a good skill to have, and we will practice it later so that it may serve you without fail should

you need it in the future.” Sam nodded again, and Dr. Walt was so engrossed, he nodded too. “However,” Rindu went on, “there is another skill that I have not shown you, arguably a more powerful one. It deals with resonant energies.” He waited for Sam to say something, but Sam didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent. “Do you know of such things?” Rindu prompted. “No,” Sam admitted. “Is it resonance in a sense of waves and frequencies you speak of?” Dr. Walt asked, gesturing with a spoonful of some sort of oatmeal. “I speak specifically of the rohw, but the same applies to such things as you mention, I believe.” “Oh,” Dr. Walt exclaimed, “then I may be able to add some information to the discussion.” “By all means, please do so.” Rindu waved his hand toward the scholar in a seated bow. Dr. Walt pushed his glasses up on his nose as he constantly did, and used his lecturing voice. “Well, then, first let’s speak of resonance itself. Resonance is the tendency of a system to oscillate with greater amplitude at some frequencies compared to others. The specific frequencies that cause the maximum amplitude are called resonant frequencies. The key here, I think, is that at resonant frequencies, even small waves can produce large oscillations.”

“Um, okay,” Sam said. “I can understand that. I remember reading about a suspension bridge that started vibrating because of the wind and then began resonating. Eventually it shook itself apart—” “Very good Sam,” Dr. Walt interrupted. “That is a wonderful example. The Tacoma Narrows Bridge. You have it right.” “Yeah,” Sam said. “But I still don’t understand what this has to do with the rohw.” “Just this, Sam,” Rindu said. “If you are in tune with the rohw you are using, you can find the resonant frequencies and increase the power of the energy many times over. At least, you can cause the effects to be multiplied because of the increase in the size of the waves through which the energy is expressed. Does that make a little more sense?” “I suppose,” Sam said, scratching his head. “Can you show me a practical application?” Rindu’s mouth twitched into an approximation of a smile. It was merely a hint of movement of his top lip at the corners, but for Rindu it was close to a smile. “Of course, by all means. I want you to watch what I do, Sam, so that you can duplicate it. Watch closely. Are you ready?” “Ready.” Rindu pointed his hand at an empty bowl sitting on the table. The bowl lifted a few inches and began to spin. Then it slowed, stopped, and then

floated back down to rest on the table. He arched an eyebrow at Sam. “Did you see the rohw I used to complete the task?” Rindu asked. “I did.” “Good.” The Zouy stepped back. “Now I want you to do the same thing, and I will add rohw at a resonant frequency so we can watch the effects.” “Got it.” Sam began controlling his breathing carefully, taking deep, measured breaths. He closed his eyes for a moment to picture the energy he had seen coming from Rindu and then duplicated it the best he could. He opened his eyes to watch the bowl rise shakily off the table. It wobbled for a moment as he tried to start it spinning, but then the spinning became more stable, more fluid. Finally, it was rotating without a wobble. “Very good, Sam,” Rindu said. “Now, observe.” Rindu flicked his hand and the bowl began spinning faster and faster, madly zipping around. Sam could hear the sound of it cutting through the air, a soft whirring. It increased, the sound becoming more high-pitched as the bowl spun faster and faster. Sam was afraid it was going to shake itself apart and spray them with ceramic shards. The Zouy was already motioning to the bowl, though, making the reverse gesture, as if pulling the energy back out of the spinning dish. After a few

moments, the bowl stopped spinning and settled back on the table. The entire time, Sam had not done anything with the rohw after getting it started to begin with. “Thus you see a small demonstration of how even small acts with the rohw can be magnified. The trick, of course, is knowing the resonant frequencies of the particular rohw. Do you understand, Sam? “Yeah, I think so,” Sam said. “Would you like to try it?” Rindu said. Sam had expected that.“Sure. What do I do?” “Become one with the rohw, the particular energy that is performing the task,” Rindu said. “Okay, but how do I do that?” Rindu raised his eyebrow again. “It is not so unlike what you did to harmonize with my own and Nalia’s rohw. The difference is that you are trying to become one with the active rohw, the energy that is performing a specific task. It is much more difficult.” “Oh.” “Here,” Rindu said, motioning toward the bowl to make it rise again. “Look carefully at the threads of the rohw, at what they are doing, how they are formed, what their basic makeup is. Do you see?” “I see some, but not great detail. Is that because it’s a simple web of energy?” “Perhaps,” Rindu said, “and perhaps not. As it

is said, ‘The fool sees the cloth, but the skilled man sees the thread.’” Sam sighed. “Now,” Rindu said, “soften your eyes and look at the makeup of the energy, how it is used. Then using your connection to the rohw, add your own force to it to make it resonate. Add a little of your own rohw of the same basic makeup to make the motion speed up.” Sam let his eyes go out of focus so he could see and feel the rohw Rindu was using. He thought he saw a pattern in the fine strands making up the force that was spinning the cup. He then reached out his senses and felt what was moving it. Once it seemed that he had an understanding of it, he tried to emulate Rindu. He flicked his hand toward the spinning cup, projecting a small amount of his own rohw into it. Nothing happened. Sam frowned at the cup. He flicked his hand again, sending more rohw into the spinning cup. The dish remained unchanged, rotating at exactly the same speed. He tried one more time, thrusting his hand out and projecting a large burst of rohw energy. The cup hurtled away from him as if he had struck it with his hand. Still spinning, it bounced off the table and then fell, end over end, until it struck the stone floor and shattered.

“Oops,” Sam said, and felt his face go hot. “That was not resonant energy, Sam,” Rindu said. “That was close to a tantrum.” “Sorry. True, I was frustrated, but I thought that if I put more energy into it, then I could do it.” “Rarely does adding brute force make things better,” Rindu told him. “It was not the amount of energy you were sending, but the manner and the frequency in which you were sending it.” “I tried to match the frequency,” Sam said, “but it didn’t seem to work for me.” “It is fine. We will practice and you will become more proficient at it. Please just remember that it takes very little rohw to cause great changes if you have discovered the resonant frequency.” “I’ll remember,” Sam said, shoulders slumping. Dr. Walt had remained silent the entire time. Sam looked over at him, and the scholar looked back at Sam with sympathy in his eyes. “It’s fascinating to me to watch lessons such as these. When Rindu has tried to teach me things in the past, I myself cannot grasp even the simplest of concepts. I do love to see it when others who are much more proficient with the rohw—like you, Sam—are learning new things. It’s like watching real life demonstrations of physics concepts I’ve always known but never truly appreciated fully. Magnificent.” That lifted Sam’s mood a bit. He enjoyed it that

Dr. Walt got so excited about such seemingly simple things. The three finished their meal, and before Sam had a chance to do it, a servant came to clean up the shards from the cup he had shattered. “Sorry,” Sam told the man. “I was going to clean that up myself.” The servant nodded to him and smiled. “I think we need to do some traveling still today,” Sam said as they were leaving the dining room. “I’ll go and check on Emerius first, and then the rest of us will go out and try to get a half a day in, at least. Tomorrow, with or without Em, we’re back to full travel days. We don’t have any time to spare if we mean to get the artifact before Chetra Dal does.” Sam found Ix in Emerius’s room, chatting with him. The big hunter looked well, if a bit tired. Thinking of it, though, Sam probably looked tired as well. “Ix was just telling me what I missed, with the healing by those Brothers of the Rohw and all that. Make sure to tell them thank you from me and to let them know if they ever need anything, I’ll be happy to repay their kindness.” “I’ll tell them,” Sam said, smiling, “but you’ll see them again. If not today, then another time. I think we’ll be seeing a lot of them in the future. You look good, Em. How do you feel?” “Actually,” Emerius said, “I feel better than

I’ve felt in a long time. Maybe they healed more than they thought. I’m ready and able to get back in the fight.” Ix gave Sam a knowing look. She had already had this conversation with him, it seemed. “Great,” Sam said, “but not today. A few of us are going to go do a partial day of traveling, just to get the muscles moving and to see how the rakkeben do with being on the trail. They were all injured, so we’re not sure how much they can handle right now.” Emerius narrowed his eyes at Sam and tilted his head slightly. “Part of a day? You’re only going to jog around, not do anything big or explore much?” “That’s right. It’ll be pretty boring really. I’d probably rather take a nap, but you know, I kind of have to go.” “Yeah,” Emerius said, “sure. Is Ix going?” At the same time she said yes, Sam said, “If she wants to.” Then, Sam added, “But we don’t need her to go.” Sam got glares from both of them. He didn’t know what he did to earn those, but he wasn’t going to let it deter him. “Really, Em, it’s not going to be much. I only need two or three people with me. I could probably do it myself, just to get a little further toward our goal and then learn a new place to teleport, but I’m sure someone will want to come with me to make sure I don’t trip and fall on my

face.” “You do need someone to look after you,” the hunter agreed. “Fine, I’ll stay in bed and rest. I’ll even let Ix go.” “Oh,” the assassin said, “you’ll let me go, will you?” She disappeared. The shock on Emerius’s face made Sam laugh. “I’m pretty sure she did that to make a point,” he said. “Yeah. I got that.” The assassin appeared again, right where she had been. “It’s pretty hard to keep me from going when and where I want,” she said. “You know, just so you understand that.” “Okay, okay,” Emerius said. “Point taken. I was joking anyway.” “Good, now that we understand each other—” Ix turned toward Sam. “If you don’t need me, I guess I’ll stay here today. Maybe I can show Mr. Hunter here how to play stones.” “Sounds good to me,” Sam said. “I’ll be taking the brothers back to Rohwbyt first and then putting a few miles on. We’re starting late and will end early, so it’ll be an easy day. Tomorrow, we’re back in business, though. We need to get that artifact.” Sam gathered up Nalia and Rindu and then the brothers, and headed to the stables. Torim Jet walked with them, discussing things with Brother Dilkin the entire way. It sounded to Sam as if it was

the same conversation as the day before about the healing techniques used on Emerius. It was fascinating, but he didn’t understand much of what they were discussing. Nalia smiled at Sam. “How did you get Emerius to agree to stay in bed?” “Actually, it was pretty easy,” Sam said. “I told him it would be a partial day and that we wanted to see how the rakkeben would do since they were injured, too. I said only a few of us would go just to keep our muscles moving and to evaluate whether the rakkeben could try whole days again starting tomorrow. He decided he’d be better off staying here and resting.” Nalia looked at Sam quizzically. “Ix is staying to keep him company, is she not?” she said. “Uh, yeah.” “I thought as much. They have been inseparable lately.” “I think it’s good,” Sam said. “They balance each other out. I think it only strengthens the team.” She nodded but said nothing more. Shonyb came up to Sam and nuzzled his hand. She seemed to be in good health. Of the rakkeben, she had received the fewest injuries, just three or four shallow gashes. Her movement was the same fluid motion she normally used, so she at least didn’t seem to have any lingering effects of

yesterday’s battle. Sam absently petted her shaggy head, giving her ears a good rubbing as he watched the other two rakkeben. He wondered how Skitter was doing with the Guiding Council meetings and his friendship with the cats. Cleave had some visible cuts, areas where fur had been torn off, but they glistened with the salve the healers had applied and didn’t seem to affect his movement. Rindu’s mount, Zumra, was humming as he normally did, dancing as if he was ready to go back to traveling. Two of his cuts looked deeper than those the other two rakkeben had received, but they didn’t seem to faze him a bit. Sam smiled at his antics. “Are we all ready to go?” Sam asked loudly so that everyone could hear him over the conversation. There were nods all around and a few affirmative statements. “Good, then let’s get started. First we’ll go to Rohwbyt to drop off Brothers Dilkin and Mosian.” He nodded toward the brothers, who inclined their heads toward him. He took his position on the ground and quickly entered the khulim. Nalia knew him well enough by now that she quietly positioned the humans and their rakkeben in the most effective manner. No sooner had everyone said their brief goodbyes and Torim Jet moved aside than Sam teleported them away.

CHAPTER 17

T

hey appeared just outside of Rohwbyt. Sam didn’t like teleporting into a place where people may be standing around. He had never materialized within something, either inanimate or human, and he never wanted to “Okay, Brothers,” Sam said to Dilkin and Mosian. “I will be back in five days to move you— and all that you want to bring—to Whitehall. Are you sure that is enough time? I can come back whenever you would like.” “That is sufficient time, Sam,” Brother Dilkin said. “Thank you. Our whole way of life was based on being able to pick up and leave almost instantly when our Zouyim brothers found us. Five days is more than enough. Anymore and we will become extremely lazy, and the Zouyim will have to punish us to instill a good work ethic.”

Sam laughed. “All right. We wouldn’t want that to happen. You can bring whatever you like. I’ll find a large courtyard or something to teleport to in Whitehall so that you won’t have to worry about leaving anything behind. I’m not sure if you’ll ever be going back to what has been your home your entire life.” Brother Dilkin considered. His face grew serious as he pondered. “Yes, that is right. This is really the end of the way of life we have always known. In five days, our existence will be completely changed. In all the excitement, I had not really thought of it.” His face brightened as he continued, “But this is our purpose. We will help our Zouyim brothers rebuild the temple. There will be our new home, as was promised us so many years and generations ago. It will be marvelous!” Sam watched Brother Mosian as his companion spoke. His face still remained stern. Sam thought that maybe he had not considered exactly what the events that had transpired meant for his way of life. He hoped it wouldn’t be a problem. “We should probably get going so we can put in a few miles today,” Sam said. “Yes, yes,” Brother Dilkin said. “Thank you for your help Sam, and thank you for finding us to begin with. Without you, we would have never had the chance to meet our long-lost brothers. We are indebted to you.”

“No,” Sam said, “it was chance that caused me to be here, not some plan of my own.” “Was it not?” Brother Mosian said. Sam lost his train of thought for a moment, but then recovered. “Anyway, it’s my pleasure to help out. After all, you are planning to do the bulk of the work in starting to rebuild the Zouyim temple. We will forever be indebted to you for that.” “Be safe, Sam.” Brother Dilkin saluted and bowed to him. “And you, Master Rindu, and our Sapsyra sister Nalia. We look forward to seeing you in five days.” There were salutes and bows all around, and then the two brothers turned and started the short walk back to the town. Sam wasted no time in transporting the party to where they had stopped the day before. He wanted to get as many miles as he could today. Tomorrow would start the routine of full days of travel. They still had a long way to go, and they were racing Chetra Dal. They had to beat him to the third artifact. They simply had to. If they failed, all of Gythe might fall as well. If there was any time for him to be a hero, now was it. The day’s travel was uneventful. Snow dusted the party a few times during the day, but it didn’t seem as if nature was completely serious about the attempt. Sam thought that maybe they had turned the corner and spring would be there soon. “We are in Sutow-Tolit,” Nalia told him when

he mentioned it. “It is the last month of winter. Soon it will be Tid-Hud, the first month of spring. The weather will warm, but conditions may become dangerous. Thawing snow carries hazards too, as you well know.” Sam did know, though only within the context of “civilization.” He’d never had to cross vast expanses of snow in the spring. Well, he would now. The small party had only traveled for four or five hours before Sam settled into his normal meditating position and learned the area that would be their starting point the next day. Then he teleported them back to Whitehall in time for dinner. “So,” Emerius said, “how’d it go?” Sam had found the man in the dining hall with Ix, Dr. Walt, the two Zouyim, Sam’s mother, and Bao Ling. Even the hapaki and Danaba Kemp were there. “It was…boring,” Sam said. “We didn’t go very far. We were able to get closer to those mountains we’ve been seeing for the last week or so. They’re called the Rocky Mountains where I’m from. They run just about the entire length of the continent, so we have to cross them eventually. I guess ‘eventually’ is now.” “We can easily go through them if you’d just let me teleport us,” Ix said. It was an old argument. “It’s dangerous trying to cross mountains like that,

especially at this time of year.” “I know,” Sam said. “We don’t have any choice, though. We can’t risk you running into another one of those traps. We might not be so lucky this time. Whoever set the trap may be there waiting, or find you before we do. It’s just too risky, Ix.” The assassin huffed but dropped the subject. She knew he wouldn’t relent. “How are you feeling, Em?” Sam asked. “Do you want to rest another day or two before tackling full days of travel?” The hunter gave Sam a level look. “I’ve done much harder traveling with much worse injuries. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I feel great. Whatever those brothers of the whatever did to me, I’m completely healed, not to mention better rested than I have been in a long while. I’m going.” “Okay, okay.” Sam put his hands up as if warding off the verbal barrage. “Sam,” Dr. Walt said after a few minutes of relative silence as everyone concentrated on eating their meal. “I’ve been thinking about our earlier conversation about the terrain through which you are traveling. Attempting to follow where roads have been built on Telani is a sound idea, but even with detailed maps of the passes the roadways take —which we don’t have, by the way—it is still rather dangerous to brave the mountains alone.”

“I know,” Sam said. “It worries me, too. I didn’t think we would have problems when we started because we could just teleport through the mountains, jumping over and around any obstacles. Worse comes to worst, we could teleport back here and then start over again. With this trap situation, things are more difficult, not to mention timeconsuming.” “Quite,” Dr. Walt agreed. “As I said, I was thinking about the issue and made some inquiries. I believe I have come up with at least a partial solution.” “Really? That would be great. What have you got?” Dr. Walt shifted his attention to another of the tables on the other side of the dining hall. Three men sat there, eating and chatting. When Dr. Walt waved in the direction of the men, one of them caught the motion and nodded. He said something to his fellows, causing them to look over at Sam’s table, and then he was up and striding toward them purposefully. He was a big man, about the same size as Emerius and probably the same weight. They looked cut of the same mold, hard as granite and tough as oak roots. His black hair was pulled back into a long pony tail and tied with a thin leather thong, keeping it out of a face that was sundarkened and rough, where the skin could be seen

around his beard. The beard was neatly trimmed, though the rest of the man looked unkempt. His clothing, almost a match to Emerius’s, was dark green and functional, thick woolen material with bits of leather here and there. As he approached, he eyed Emerius and scanned him. Apparently, what he saw met his satisfaction, because he nodded to the hunter and got one in return. “Ah, here we are,” Dr. Walt said. “Everyone, I would like to introduce you to Togo Cairn.” The scholar went around the table, introducing each person. The man’s eyes flicked every time he got a new name. Sam had no doubt he had memorized each one as it was said to him. He fairly exuded mental competence. Introductions complete, he sat down next to Dr. Walt. “Togo here is a tracker and guide. He has spent his life in and around Shumashin. Sam, that is approximately the area between Spokane, Washington and Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. He has intimate knowledge of the area within a few hundred miles of that town. He knows the mountain passes through the Bongana Mountains—the Rocky Mountains on Telani. If there is anyone who can get you to the other side of them, it’s this man.” Sam felt some of the weight on his heart lighten. “That’s great, Dr. Walt! Togo, it would be wonderful if you could guide us. None of us are really good in the wilderness. Well, other than

Emerius, but he’s a thousand miles from the areas he knows.” “It would be my pleasure to help lead you to where you need to go, Sam,” the tracker said. “I’m part of the new government’s army now, and General Kemp here—” he nodded to his commander “—says I can serve best by guiding you. I joined because I wanted to do my part in repaying what you did when you took on the Gray Man. I’m thrilled to be able to serve you personally.” “Are you able to start immediately?” Rindu asked. “I am,” Togo Cairn said. “Give me a few hours to get provisions, and we can start anytime you want.” “Oh,” Sam said, “provisions won’t be necessary. We’ll return each night to sleep here at Whitehall.” The man looked at Sam as if he had lost his mind. “Here, let me explain.” Sam explained teleporting to him and how they typically traveled. Togo looked incredulous until Sam nodded to Ix and she disappeared, appearing instantly at the end of the room. She spooned up a bowl of stew, then disappeared again, popping into existence right where she had been before, sitting next to Emerius. She handed the bowl to Togo and he stared at it for a moment, then at Ix, then settled his eyes on Sam.

“Okay, I believe you.” “Coincidentally,” Sam told Togo Cairn, “we are just about to reach Shumashin. It will be a good place for us to start on the path you choose for us.” “That will work out well,” the man responded. “No one knows those mountains better than me. I’ll get you through the Bonganas to where we can head north to your destination. Dr. Walt told me where you want to go, even showed me a crude map he had drawn.” “Have you been that far north, Togo Cairn?” Nalia asked. “No, I’m afraid not. It’s hundreds of miles away from the farthest I’ve traveled, but maybe we can find a local guide in one of the cities or towns.” “Maybe,” Sam said, “but if not, it should be fairly easy. Once we’re on the other side of the big mountain range, we just have to follow its eastern edge north and we’ll get there.” The tracker stared at Sam, his expression unreadable. “Uh, have you done much crosscountry traveling, Sam?” “Since I came to Gythe, yes. I have actually traveled quite a lot here.” “On roads, paths, well-known forested areas?” Togo asked. “Things like that?” Sam felt his face flushing. “Yeah, pretty much. Why?” “Oh, it’s nothing,” the tracker said. “But I find

that intelligent people who have seen maps believe that when a mountain range ends on a piece of paper, it ends as abruptly in the real world. The simple fact is that once we get to the other side of the Bonganas, there will still be plenty of mountains, foothills, and tricky crossings unless we want to go east a few hundred miles to get out of them and then work our way back west to get to your destination. I’ve been a tracker all my life, but I’m wary of traveling mountainous country I’ve never been in.” “Oh,” Sam said. “I guess I was probably simplifying it at that.” Togo patted Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. That’s what I’m here for, my experience. We’ll get there, Sam. Just don’t underestimate the danger nature can throw at us. That’s a good way to get caught by surprise. When nature surprises you, death can come quickly.” Sam pondered what the man told him as they got ready to leave the next morning. Just when Sam thought he had gotten the hang of the whole questing thing, something always came up to show him he didn’t know as much as he thought he did. It was fine, though. He didn’t need to know everything. That’s what his friends were for. Once they had teleported to the location they’d stopped at the night before, the party settled into loose ranks and started forward. Sam looked

around at his friends. Emerius, on Oro, was chatting with Ix, who was riding her manu. Togo Cairn was in front, riding his own manu, a large brown and yellow bird that seemed more intelligent than other manu birds Sam had seen. When it looked at him with those big gray eyes, Sam could swear it was analyzing him. Nalia was next to Sam on Cleave, Rindu on his other side on Zumra—the wolf was humming softly to himself, as normal—and Skitter was on his carrier behind Sam. Did you call me? the hapaki sent. No, Sam responded. I was just thinking of you, considering the rest of our party. Oh. Can you afford the time to travel with us? Sam sent to him. Isn’t there a lot of work to do with the new government? It’s fine, Skitter sent back. Max is attending the meetings for me. I need to get out into the open, travel with my friends like I used to. You’ll probably be bored. At least, I hope so. I could use a little boring travel instead of being attacked every time we turn around. Togo Cairn slipped back so he was next to Sam. “Travel today will be uneventful,” he said. “It’s pretty monotonous landscape until we reach Shumashin. We’re in a valley, and most of the land around the town is used for homesteads, fields, livestock, that kind of thing. The forest isn’t too

heavy here, so that makes it easier.” “When will we get into the mountains?” Sam asked. “We should get up to the base of them within a couple of days.” “That quickly?” Sam said. “Good. I want to get through them and out the other side as soon as possible. We need to get to that artifact.” “I’ll get us there as quickly and safely as possible.” The two were silent for a moment, Sam looking at the surroundings, trying to see it all, and Togo Cairn scanning them for danger. Then Sam spoke. “So, you grew up around here? Was it a good place to live?” “I did. I think it was a good place to live. Shumashin is not so small as some towns and villages, but not so large that it has big city problems. With mountains and flatter valley areas as far as you can see, I always had things to do as a child. Yes, a fine place to live.” “How did you become a tracker and guide? Did your father do that kind of work?” “No, not dear old dad,” the man said. Sam heard the bite in what he said. “My uncle Torin, my mother’s oldest brother.” Togo’s eyes flashed. “It was said that he was born out in the wild and only came to visit humans once in a while, even as a baby. I believe it. He has a special way with nature,

almost like she is his lover and will do things for him she won’t do for anyone else. “I first met him when I was four years old. I remember it clearly, though I don’t remember anything else from that age. He was dressed in animal skins. They dripped off him like it had rained the pelts and he got drenched. He was huge and had a wild look in his eyes, like he was some sort of wild animal himself. I got scared and started to cry. “When my mother picked me up, laughing, she held me out to the monster. My mouth seized up, not even able to cry anymore. I thought my mom was feeding me to him. Instead, the man took me from my mother’s arms and hugged me to himself. He sang a snatch of something—I can’t remember what it was—and I remember my surprise. The song sounded of the wind blowing through the trees, of a stream burbling by as a deer chewed on wild grass. It made me see the stars through a hole in the canopy of trees, brighter than anything I’d ever seen in the night. It calmed me and made me feel secure. “I remember looking into those blue eyes of his and knowing we would be good friends, that I would learn many secrets from him. I smiled at him, then, and he smiled back. “The next day he took me out into the forest for the first time to show me things I’d never seen.

That’s how it started. He trained me for years, our family rolling their eyes whenever I was mentioned, much as they did when he was brought up in conversation. He’s the one who made me the tracker and guide I am today, and he’s the one who made me the man I am today.” “That sounds fantastic,” Sam said. “I’d like to meet him someday.” “Yeah, well, that can’t happen,” Togo Cairn said. “He’s dead now.” Sam felt his heart drop. “Oh, I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. He was killed by some of the Gray Man’s Collectors over some stupid misunderstanding that no one even understands. What a waste.” The tracker sighed, but then rolled his shoulders and straightened. “That’s why I joined the new government. I don’t ever want bloodthirsty men to be allowed to roam freely and do what they want with official sanction from those in power. I want to do my part.” “I understand,” Sam said. “That’s what I want, too. That’s what we’re all fighting for.” “But enough of the sorrowful tales,” Togo said. “We’ll be in Shumashin in a couple of hours, but in the meantime let’s enjoy the countryside and the easy travel.” “Sounds good to me.”

CHAPTER 18

S

humashin was a small town, not unlike many of those Sam had passed through on his travels. The buildings were clustered in small groups, with tracks, not quite streets, weaving between them. The structures were sturdy wooden erections with shallowly-pitched roofs, making Sam recall that this area on Telani got less than half the annual rainfall as Whitehall. It must not get very much snow either. They didn’t actually enter the town. They already had the provisions they needed, and Sam did not want to waste any traveling time. Instead, they skirted the bulk of the community and headed east toward the mountains. “The path remains fairly easy until we get to Teacher’s Valley,” Togo said with one last glance at his home town behind them. “After that, we’ll get

into the mountains proper. That will be tomorrow’s travel, though.” “Teacher’s Valley?” Ix said. “That’s a strange name.” “I was going to say the same thing,” Sam said. “Why is it called that?” It was the kind of question he usually asked of Dr. Walt when they were traveling. The scholar knew surprising things about this world, had knowledge that even most of the native people didn’t know. Togo Cairn smiled. “As it turns out, I actually know the story. Many centuries ago, long before the Great War or the scientific era that spawned the war, this was a wild, unforgiving land. Unlike now.” He winked at Ix. “Believe it or not, even the valley here was more heavily wooded, a great gnarled forest as far as could be seen from the local mountains. There were always indigenous peoples here, as there were everywhere. And, as it usually goes with ancient peoples, they were more in harmony with the land and nature as a whole. Compared to technologically advanced people, that is. “There is a story of a man—his name has been lost in history—who came to this area searching for the meaning of life. When he got here, he believed it was the place he was looking for. The strange phenomenon of the rain shadow effect and the protection of the mountains made the climate more

moderate than surrounding areas, and the man took this as a sign. He was a clever survivalist and so began to build a home from local materials, eking out a small space where he could live and grow his own food. “The indigenous peoples, the Kechaala, became curious and observed the man and all his activities. This was before other strangers had come and exploited them, so they were not biased or afraid, just curious. They watched him for weeks, careful not to be seen. “The man, for his part, was not so blind as they thought him to be. He began leaving things for his silent watchers, food or trinkets he had made. He set them well away from his home, in the surrounding forest. The members of the local tribe did not know what to make of it. “Finally, a young man, cocksure in the way only the very young can be, walked boldly into camp, his long knife thrust through his belt and his bow slung over his back. He bellowed for the man to come out and speak with him. “When the man did so, the young tribesman almost lost his nerve, but he remained, though visibly shaking. The man’s face was kindly, and that calmed the younger man’s nerves, but when they tried to speak to each other, they found that they could not understand. They were speaking different languages.

“The other natives watched from the trees as the man drew pictures on the ground, made gestures, and tried his best to communicate. The young tribesman did likewise. At times, it was humorous to realize the miscommunication that had occurred, and at times anger flared in one or the other because of some perceived insult. The two kept at it. No other native showed his or her face to the man in all that time. “After several weeks, the man and the local had forged a kind of friendship. They had learned enough of each other’s languages to communicate more effectively. Soon, the man was fluent in the native tongue, and members of the tribe started to come and visit him. “They started to call the man by a title, an honorific: Teacher. He taught them many things from his world, but the most important was the knowledge that is universal, the ability to look within oneself and, regardless of spiritual or religious beliefs, find the goodness and balance there. He was a sort of philosopher and his teachings not only made the local tribe happier, but allowed them to think creatively and grow their society until they were the most powerful tribe for hundreds of miles. “The tribe, having the balance and peace they had attained from Teacher, were peaceful and loved by every other tribe that encountered them. They

nurtured trade, were able to stall hostilities, and coordinated the exchange of technology between tribes. And it was all because of Teacher. “When he died, he was honored for five days’ travel in all directions, and the place where he had built his little home was named for him, Tchela Aenora in the native tongue, but translated and kept with the same meaning in Kasmali. Teacher’s Valley.” When they reached Teacher’s Valley the next day, Sam had a better appreciation for the community. The community was no larger than Shumashin, and in fact looked much like it, but dominating the landscape was a massive building. It looked almost a castle, though it had no defensive walls, only decorative ones. It looked as if it had been added onto many times, either to increase it or to repair sections that had been damaged or destroyed. This gave it an eclectic and almost eccentric look. “The Learning Center,” Togo Cairn said, pointing to it. “The citizens long ago decided that they would carry on the Teacher’s work, so they created a university of sorts. Even the Great War could not destroy it completely, though it was a near thing. A few scholars survived, and they increased their number and thrived. It is still a small group, but it is the pride of the entire region. Of those who know about it, anyway.”

“That’s fantastic,” Sam said. “I didn’t know there were places like this on Gythe. I wish we could stay and talk with them, but we have more pressing business.” “I agree,” Rindu said. “It is a mystery to me how the Zouyim did not know about this. We could have exchanged information…when the temple still stood and the Zouyim were still present.” “It’s not that confusing,” Togo Cairn said. “They tend to keep the Center secret. I only know because it’s less than forty miles from my home town, and even then because I range farther than most. I would say not one in every hundred in Shumashin know about the place, if even that.” The party skirted the main area of the town, passing by to the south, an easier route. As they came upon the Learning Center, Togo Cairn swung them around to head north, their path circumscribing the Center’s ground. Sam gaped. This close, the building looked like some giant creature of stone and wood preparing to pounce. It seemed both tense and relaxed at the same time, perhaps the mixture being due to different styles of architecture melded together in a building that had been constructed piecemeal over hundreds of years. Just in the relatively small section Sam and the others passed by, there were squat, solid stone structures—looking like battlements or a guard

house—sweeping wooden-roofed portions that to Sam appeared almost whimsical, slat-sided buildings that were functional and unadorned, and many others. Sam was no expert on architecture, but even to his eye, some of the parts clashed with others adjacent to them. It surprised him when he felt a wide smile crack his face. “What is it, Sam?” Nalia asked him. “I don’t know. I think I find the Learning Center, the building itself, both comical and wonderful. All the different parts, they don’t really go together, and the whole thing should be ridiculous, but I find that when I look at it as a whole, it seems to fit. The different pieces seem to give it a character, and a noble one. Noble, but without pretension, as if it knows how important it is, but doesn’t let it go to its head.” Nalia looked askance at him. “You speak of it as if it were a person.” “Yeah,” Sam nodded. “I guess I do. It seems like that. When this is all over and we have time, I really need to bring Dr. Walt back here to explore this place. I bet the inside is even more fascinating than the outside.” She shook her head at him and patted his shoulder, then walked toward her father, chuckling. Cleave followed her. After leaving the Learning Center ground behind, Togo brought them into some thick trees

and they continued to the north. “There aren’t really any roads or paths to speak of from here until the other side of the mountains. It’s a rough, inhospitable land. We’re done with the easy travel for now. This is where nature reigns supreme, without the touch of man evident. Welcome to the Bein Bongana, the forest of the Bonganas.” Togo wasn’t kidding. Sam had traveled quite a bit in Gythe, but as always, each forest had its own unique makeup of trees and vegetation. He scanned the foliage as they traveled, picking out trees and bushes, even some herbs. As always, the wild places and all the different types of vegetation reminded him of Inoria Dinn, Emerius’s sister. She had died outside of Gutu, so heart stricken over killing the creature her younger brother had mutated into that she threw herself at the enemy forces. An act of suicide. She had loved trees and other plants, teaching Sam a little about how to identify them and how to use them as medicines and as sources of other useful compounds. Sam looked over at Emerius. They had been twins. He wondered if a minute ever passed that the hunter didn’t think of his twin sister. Probably not. He thought of bringing it up, talking to Emerius about it, but didn’t know how to start that conversation. He’d have to think of something. Sam

wanted to tell his friend that he was there to listen and that he felt a small part of his pain of loss as well. For now, though, they had work to do, and comforting others was rarely on the top of the priority list. Not when the lives of hundreds or thousands were at risk. They had traveled for two hours through the thick vegetation, Togo Cairn slipping through the undergrowth as deftly as a wild animal. The temperature was above freezing, if barely, and the snow crackled under their snowshoes, the crust bursting with each step to reveal the softer snow beneath. They were coming upon spring, and Sam was glad of it. It was just his luck that all of the traveling that had to be done was during the winter. Why couldn’t the threat of world domination happen in the warmer months? “Stop.” Rindu’s voice shook Sam from his thoughts. The party members all stopped, questioning looks on their faces, Togo Cairn most of all. “Please remain still,” Rindu said. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and began to move off to his left. The trees were a little thinner there. It wasn’t quite a meadow, but it wasn’t as choked as most of the rest of the terrain they had passed through so far. The Zouy continued to move slowly, hands out as if feeling something that wasn’t there. Sam

softened his eyes and saw that the monk was casting his rohw out, probing. What was he looking for? Rindu came to a stop and bent down. He carefully dug through the snow at his feet, cautious as if there were eggs buried there and he didn’t want to break them. After getting almost to the ground level, he grasped something and then straightened. It was a small box. Sam gasped. It looked like the traps they had found before, like the one that had captured Ix. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked. “Yes,” Rindu said. “It is a rohw trap, waiting for someone to teleport into its general vicinity.” Sam could see Ix gulp. Her face flushed and she looked toward the ground. “They are still putting those traps down,” Sam said. “It’s a good thing we have been traveling in a more conventional manner.” Ix whispered, “Point taken.” It was enough. “Well,” Sam said, “there’s no harm in it if we don’t teleport into its field of effect. We should keep moving. We don’t know if the ones who set it are still around or not. Let’s be careful.” The rest of the day’s travel was uneventful. At one point, Sam saw a pantor, one of the few he’d ever seen, crouched on a rock outcropping, eyeing them. It looked to Sam like the panthers he had seen in zoos and on television except that it was

colored a dusty brown. It seemed unconcerned with the visitors into its domain. Game was probably plentiful here. Rindu noticed Sam’s gaze. “Ah, the pantor, chief of the predators here on Gythe. Aside from humans, of course. Do you have cats such as that on Telani?” “Yes,” Sam said. “We have a number of big cats. Tigers are probably the top of the hierarchy. They are much bigger than the sleek pantor there. Still, all types are dangerous, with their claws and their teeth.” “They are marvelous creatures,” Rindu said with obvious respect in his voice. “Do you know that some of the forms of the kori rohw, as well as the more mundane martial forms, are based on the movements of the pantor?” Sam looked sidelong at the monk. “On our world, too. There are tiger forms and strikes in some martial arts. Leopard, too.” “I have not had the opportunity to observe a pantor using its formidable fighting skills,” the Zouy continued, “but Zouyim through the centuries have. I have of late been watching your cats, especially the small ones—kittens, they are called?—and can see in their movements what masters through the ages have seen. It is good to see how animals act instinctively, showing movements that are at once natural and sublime. It is enlightening, to say the

least.” Sam smiled at the thought of Rindu watching and playing with the young cats. He knew Skitter loved all the little fuzzballs dearly, but for Rindu, they were a window to a better understanding of the rohw and nature itself. “Speaking of the rohw and proper movement,” Rindu said, “we have been remiss in our training lately. It is understandable with the attack of the bhorgabir and the injuries resulting, but we must continue if you would learn and progress.” “Yes,” Sam said. “I agree. Maybe we can get back on track this evening when we go back to Whitehall. Spring is here, but the days are still fairly short, so we’ll have lots of time left when we stop traveling for the day.” “Time for what?” Nalia asked as she moved up beside the two men. “To do some training with your father,” Sam answered. “That is a good idea, I think,” she said. “You are getting soft, physically and mentally.” She poked Sam in the ribs and he tightened his stomach so she would feel how hard his muscles were. “Who’s soft?” he said. She moved her hand to his hair, stroking it gently while looking into his eyes. He relaxed instantly at her touch. “You are.” He supposed he couldn’t argue when his knees felt like rubber. He

scowled at her, but she only smiled and kissed his cheek. “Anyway,” he said, trying to snap out of the spell she had put him under, “as soon as we get back, maybe you can work with me on the many things I still need to improve upon.” “That sounds like a great idea,” Rindu said. Sam looked up at the pantor as he let Rindu drift away from him behind their guide. The cat had not moved, but its head followed the humans as they passed out of sight. Sam wondered what the animal thought of what was happening in the world. He supposed that things in its domain were the same as they had always been. All it had to worry about was finding enough food to eat. He envied the creature that.

CHAPTER 19

I

n the failing daylight, Togo Cairn stopped them for the day, and they were soon back at Whitehall. Rindu sat in front of Sam in a small room in the fortress keep, both of them in their cross-legged position they usually used for rohw training. “I will attempt to strike you,” the monk said, “with a concentrated burst of rohw. You will try to resist being struck.” “Okay.” Sam prepared himself for the attack. He knew Rindu would not hurt him, and he was no stranger to sparring, but he still felt nervous. They had only worked a little on defensive use of the rohw, so it was still unfamiliar to him. As the experience with Ayim Rasaad had shown, though, it was important for him to develop these skills. Just when Sam thought he had learned, or at least been

exposed to, all the things he would need, Rindu would let him know in no uncertain terms that there was much more that he didn’t know than that which he did. The first attack came at him like a slow fist. It pushed toward him, slow but inexorable. It was an easy matter to project some of his own rohw to deflect it. This type of attack was just a warm-up, Sam knew, with simple attacks much like physical sparring. He kept his eyes closed, but he could see the energy in his mind coming at him like a giant fist. It was almost humorous. The second burst came at him like a hook punch. This one he stopped with his energy in a hard block. He even felt a jolt in the rohw he was holding. It was followed by two quick strikes, one toward his chest and the other to his forehead, both coming straight at him, not curving in the least. He slapped both aside simultaneously with his rohw. That was one advantage to this type of combat. He was not limited to two arms and two legs. He could, if he had the power and the concentration, deflect or block many attacks at a time. In practice, his limit seemed to be six. Rindu said that was respectable, but encouraged him to develop so he could increase that number. As if in answer to his thought, he sensed several rohw pulses coming at him. All thought left his

mind as he prepared to defend himself. To Sam, within his mind, it seemed as if several small missiles rushed in at him. Face, neck, left shoulder, right shoulder, abdomen, groin, left leg, right foot—all of these areas were targeted and attacked simultaneously. Splitting his attention in so many directions wasn’t possible, so he allowed the energy he held within him and his own primitive mind to do the job. Without thought, his rohw deflected or blocked all of the attacks. Not one got through. But Rindu wasn’t done. Another barrage of pulses came at him immediately after he had defeated the others. This time, there were just too many. He couldn’t even register the locations of most of them. All he knew was that as his energy swelled and he neutralized some of the attacks, others slipped in. First he felt a strike land on his left cheek, then on his right arm— with enough force to make the whole limb tingle— and then his concentration shattered and energy pelted him from many different areas at the same time. It was over within seconds, but he smarted in at least half a dozen places, some of which felt like bruises were developing even as he thought about it. Sam looked over at Rindu, who sat in a relaxed posture as if he was meditating. The Zouy’s eyes fluttered open and he looked into Sam’s.

“That was very good, Sam,” he said. “You defeated eight attacks at one time. Very impressive.” Sam didn’t think so, not after being so thoroughly pummeled by the last barrage. “Yeah, but that last one made up for it, shattering my concentration and breaking down my defense completely.” “Do not focus on the bad, Sam, but the good. You are improving, so I made an extra effort to introduce an attack that would be impossible for you to withstand. Do not allow your eyes to become downcast. You were successful in defeating two more attacks than your previous best. Continue to strive for success, and that number will become ten, or twenty, or forty. There is no limit to what can be achieved with diligent work. As it is said, ‘The tree grows tall, but not in one night.’” That did make Sam feel better. He didn’t know why he was focusing on the negative aspect of his training. Eight was much better than the six he had previously been able to withstand at one time. “You’re right, Master Rindu. I don’t know why I’m being pessimistic. I think I’m distracted.” “It is understandable,” Rindu said. “Let us practice on concentration. Now that you have ‘warmed up’ your rohw with the parrying and blocking, we will work on shielding. Please sit down over there.” The monk gestured to a location

twenty feet away. “Assume the khulim and prepare a shield for yourself as we have practiced, visualizing your aura and then hardening it to prevent my attacks from passing through.” Sam did so. They had practiced this technique before, and it had come in handy when fighting with Ayim Rasaad. Of course, he had been in harmony with Rindu and Nalia at the time, so he was able to create a stronger shield than he had either before or since. Rindu wanted him to practice until his shield would thwart almost any rohw attack. The Zouyim monk recognized that Sam had raised his shield. “I will repeat that last attack, the one that caused your focus to fail.” Eyes closed, Sam nodded, knowing Rindu would sense the gesture. Within his mind, Sam saw himself sitting on the floor, a shining bubble surrounding him for four feet in all directions. Then, he saw—and felt—Rindu’s rohw pulses strike it. It felt to him like hard rain hitting a t-shirt. It didn’t hurt precisely, but he felt the impact. Rindu kept up the barrage for a long time. At least, it seemed like a long time, but it was probably only a handful of seconds. Like rain, the number of pulses—droplets?—that hit the shield ebbed and flowed. Sometimes there were a dozen at one time, sometimes only half that. When the attack finally

slowed and then stopped, Sam felt relief. None had made it through. He began to relax, though something deep within him warned him against it. A sudden, powerful rohw pulse blasted through Sam’s shield. It wasn’t extremely fast, but it moved with the implacable force of a boulder rolling down a hill. It crushed the shield, got to Sam, picked him up, and threw him ten feet back. Sam’s arms and legs spun as he tried to gain his balance and land safely, but the thought came through his mind that he wouldn’t be able to maneuver his body in time, so he prepared for the hard landing. It never came. He felt like he landed on some type of cushion or pillow. His body bounced slightly midair and then settled to the floor without a bump or jar. Eyes open wide now, he looked at Rindu. The monk had a hint of a smile on his otherwise expressionless face. “My apologies for scaring you, Sam,” he said, “but I wanted to show you the limitations of your shield defense also. As you just experienced, a particularly strong or large rohw pulse can defeat the shield quite easily.” “Yes,” Sam said, gingerly getting to his feet, expecting to feel sore or bruised. He didn’t. “I noticed that. Is that because I am not good at making shields yet, or is it that you are just so

strong, or both?” “Those may contribute, but primarily it is because defenses with the rohw must be tailored to the situation. You saw that the shield easily defeated the attack that you were unable to counter with parries and blocks. So, too, you saw that it was not able to withstand my last attack. Do you know why?” “Because it was the wrong defense?” Sam asked. “Exactly.” “Okay,” Sam said. “I can understand that, but what is the correct defense?” “Think on it,” Rindu said. “Ponder how it would be if we were speaking of physical attacks.” The Zouy paused for a moment. “Perhaps a story would make it clearer?” Sam thought he knew the answer, but it was too late. The monk had the twinkle in his eyes he always got just before telling a story. There was nothing to do but hold on and listen. “There was once a ferret—” Rindu started. “Are there ferrets here?” Sam asked. “I haven’t seen any or heard them mentioned.” Rindu eyed him coolly and Sam looked toward the ground. He felt bad for interrupting. The monk shrugged and answered. “Yes, there are ferrets, though they are wary creatures and so do not show themselves readily.

Especially when the lookers are with rakkeben. “But to continue—” Rindu cleared his throat, and Sam felt a pang of embarrassment “—there was a ferret, and he trained hard at becoming the best fighter on Gythe. He was smaller than many of his opponents, but he was fast and his technique was flawless, no doubt from his constant practice. “He found himself in the grand tournament, the contest of the best fighters in the world, and he was determined to win. His tiny whiskered face showed his astonishment as he walked around the tournament grounds, noting other competitors he had only heard of. There was snake and crane, pantor, rakkeban, monkey, even a hapaki fighter, which seemed to the ferret to be a contradiction. His eyes were wide as he saw them, but inside he was watching, calculating, planning how he would beat them all to be the supreme champion. “The fighting commenced, and from the beginning, Ferret did well. He was small, but his fast strikes and evasions make him nearly unbeatable. One by one, his opponents fell and he rose in the rankings. Soon, there were only three competitors left. Ferret watched the match that would determine which would fight him for the title of Grand Champion. “The match pitted a kuwpo—the large, intelligent gorillas of Gythe—against a bison. The two bowed to each other, and when the referee

signaled the start of the match, they charged. “Both of the fighters were many times the size of Ferret, and when they clashed in the center of the ring, the ground around them shook, almost knocking poor Ferret off his feet. It actually did knock some of the other smaller competitors standing near the ring onto the ground. How could Ferret compete with either of these monstrous opponents? “The match soon ended, Bison pummeling Kuwpo into submission despite the clever tactics the simian utilized. “And then it was Ferret’s turn. “He swallowed hard as he made his way to the ring. Bison looked even bigger close up, his black eyes reflecting no light as they stared at the smaller fighter. Ferret felt like he was going to be swallowed up by that eye. It was almost as big as his whole body. Bison nodded in greeting as Ferret went to his side of the ring, but others in the crowd were not so respectful. He heard comments that made him blush beneath his fur. One voice jeered that they had better have a healer close by. “The competitors bowed to each other formally, and then the referee started the match. Bison did not move, waiting for Ferret to attack first. Ferret obliged him, rushing in and striking at the monstrous opponent with his best techniques. “His speed was unmatched, and he had

surprised many opponents with the power he was able to generate with his perfect form and his ability to infuse his strikes with rohw. Neither of these helped him with Bison. Ferret danced in and out, striking multiple times and then ducking clear before Bison could counterattack. He struck Bison a hundred times in the first few minutes, but none of his attacks did any damage that anyone could see. “It was when Ferret struck one of Bison’s eyes that the bigger fighter started attacking in earnest. The eye strike—not with full force, but enough to make the huge orb water—maddened Bison so that he wanted to finish the contest and be done with it. So it was that Bison went on the attack, striking with all four limbs as well as his horns and other parts of his massive head. He even whipped his short tail around to strike at Ferret. “Ferret, for his part, evaded most of the blows. He parried one or two, but with the sheer strength in them and the curving nature—Bison did not favor straight line attacks—his parries most often did not move the strike far enough away. The consequence was that the smaller warrior was struck glancing blows and thrown around the ring. “Next he tried to block some of the blows. That he only tried once. Bison jabbed with one of his front limbs, and when Ferret tried to block it, the strike blew through the block, almost broke both of

his little arms, and struck him in the chest so hard he was thrown ten feet in the air to land roughly on the far side of the ring. If it hadn’t been for Ferret’s flexibility and extraordinarily honed reflexes, the match would have ended there. He was still in fighting shape, but how long could he keep this up? “Bison began to press hard, relentlessly attacking, needing only to get one solid strike in to end the match. Perhaps to end Ferret’s life. The tiny fighter did not think Bison was trying to hurt him seriously, but one of those attacks could easily kill if landed squarely. “Knowing his time was growing short, Ferret decided to try something another competitor, Mongoose, had discussed with him and demonstrated for him. He danced in and out, tempting Bison, taunting him. Soon his dangerous work paid off. “Bison rushed in with an attack to which he committed his entire body. He focused all his power, all his mass, on one strong punch with his front hoof. This was what Ferret had been waiting for. “Ferret deftly slipped to the side and, as the strike came past him, he turned it aside and redirected it, grabbing it with both paws and pulling this way, pushing that. His redirection was enough to cause Bison to twist—too caught up in the momentum his body had generated—and to get

further and further out of control. At exactly the right time, Ferret rotated his own body, twisted Bison’s wrist, and—to the astonishment of all the onlookers—threw his massive opponent completely out of the ring. “Bison landed in a heap—on his back—with a loud groan. He rolled painfully to his belly but still did not get up. He tapped his other front hoof on the ground signaling that he had given up. “After going to make sure that Bison was not hurt seriously—his pride was damaged, but he would be fine—Ferret patted his opponent on his massive head and went back into the ring to be announced the Grand Champion of Gythe. The voice he had heard before suggested that the healer take a look at Bison just before the entire crowd erupted in cheers for the new champion.” Rindu stopped talking and looked at Sam as he normally did when he finished a story. “So,” Sam said, “the ferret won.” “Yes.” “And he did it by redirecting the bison’s force and using it against him.” “Yes.” Sam waited for Rindu to say something else. Rindu looked at Sam “That’s what I need to do with the rohw,” Sam said. “Yes, that is correct,” Rindu responded.

“Okay.” Sam paused again, waiting for Rindu to speak. When he didn’t, Sam continued. “How do I do that?” “Ah,” the monk said. “That is the question, is it not?” When he saw the exasperated look on Sam’s face, he added, “Think upon that, turning it over in your mind. Ponder all the other lessons you have received, and when we meet again to train, perhaps you will tell me the answer to your question.” “I’ll think about it,” Sam said. “Thank you, Master Rindu.” He stood straighter, saluted the monk, and bowed. Rindu returned the salute and the bow. As Sam was leaving Rindu’s room, the monk spoke again. “Oh, Sam. While you are thinking, do not neglect the importance of the kori rohw and the movements of those exercises.” Sam nodded as he left, his thoughts bouncing so violently in his head he thought he might have a headache later.

CHAPTER 20

T

he party continued their travel through the rugged mountains, with Togo Cairn leading them to passes they never would have found on their own. Even Emerius commented on the skill of the guide. Their path was strewn with obstacles, and the vegetation thick in most places, but they were making progress. Ix thought that was about all anyone could ask. Well, anyone else. Personally, it drove her crazy that she couldn’t use her ability for fear of triggering one of those traps. Walking and riding for miles each day rather than teleporting—how barbaric. She hadn’t realized how dependent upon her means of travel she had become. Their slow pace was maddening. She looked over at Nalia and couldn’t help but to allow a small smirk on her mouth. The Sapsyr

was all right, she supposed, if a little stiff and formal. Ix did enjoy poking at her, though. At first, she did it because the other woman was fairly asking for it, with all her accusations and biting comments. It had changed, though, over the course of all their travels. It was lighter, more humorous, more like teasing than the verbal attacks from before. They acted almost like sisters, picking at each other for their own, as well as for others’, amusement. Ix didn’t know how the woman warrior felt about her. Did she still hate her? Did she still not trust her? She thought about how it would be if they were friends, and her little smirk turned into a small smile. Eventually she’d win her over. They may never brush each other’s hair or giggle and gossip— Ix had never done that anyway, even as a child— but the assassin thought they could have a solid friendship built on mutual respect. Once the Sapsyr got over the whole you-tried-to-kill-us thing. “Something funny?” Emerius asked her. “Nah,” Ix responded, putting on her fake smile that looked exactly like a fake smile. “Just thinking of something amusing.” “Uh-huh,” the hunter said. “Are you planning on putting itch powder into Nalia’s bed?” Okay, so maybe she wasn’t being as circumspect as she had thought. “Mind your business, hunter,” she said to him

with mock severity, “or you may find a surprise or two yourself.” “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your little play vendetta. Just wondering, that’s all.” He moved up toward where Togo Cairn was picking their path. The hunter did move softly, even through the tangled and twisted vegetation they were going through. He was skilled, that one, and smart. She had never really been a person for partnerships or for being in groups, but she liked working with him. He was no-nonsense when it came to the task at hand. She appreciated that. He also had a dark, twisted sense of humor. She appreciated that even more. She looked over to the stupid manu bird that was her mount and tugged the reins so it would stop wandering. She wondered if any of the rakkeben would bond with her. It had been a sore point with the Gray Man—she supposed she should respect Sam’s request and call him Grayson—that the rakkeben would not bond with someone who was… creative when it came to morals and ethics, to put it delicately. He had his own code of ethics, a strange one, but his tendency toward killing for apparently trivial things seemed to preclude him from bonding with a rakkeban. He had tried several times with different groups of wild rakkeben. Most often, they wouldn’t even

show up as he waited. A few times a wolf or two showed up but made it clear he was not suitable for a bond-mate. Two of them actually growled warnings at him. She wondered if she had changed enough for them to accept her. Was she one of the “good guys” now? Nalia didn’t think so. Did Sam? Anyway, none of this pondering was getting her anywhere. She would try to get one of the wolves when they had a spare moment to do so. In the meantime…she looked at her manu again and sighed. “C’mon Feather, we’re falling behind.” She realized that everyone else had stopped when she almost ran into Rindu’s back. The monk glanced over his shoulder at her, face as expressionless as it always was. She backed up a step so she wasn’t breathing on him. Togo Cairn gathered the others in a small circle. She joined as he began to speak. “There is a group of men ahead. They have a temporary camp. We can go around, but it’ll take us an extra two hours or so to do it. There are twenty-one of them, some injured.” Sam looked thoughtful. “Are they armed? Do they look like traders or trappers or something else?” “Yes, they’re armed,” Togo Cairn said. “Very well. They’re soldiers.” “Soldiers?” Sam said.

Togo Cairn looked Sam in the eyes. “Yep. They don’t have uniforms, but I know soldiers when I see them. They look to be handy with the weapons they carry, and they jump when their leader issues orders.” “What kind of soldiers, Togo Cairn?” Rindu asked. “From where?” “Honestly, Master Rindu, they look like the Gray Man’s soldiers. I’ve seen quite a lot of them in my time, living so close to the Gray Fortress.” “Show me where these men are,” Ix said, stepping up to the tracker. The man looked to Sam, as if for permission. Ix gritted her teeth. Sam nodded and Cairn started moving toward the north. Ix followed him. To her surprise, Sam and Nalia came with her. “You have to try to move quietly, Sam.” She winked at him. He knew he wasn’t as skilled as the rest of them in stealth, but the wink softened the reminder. It wasn’t long until they came within sight of the soldiers’ camp. The tracker had brought them through a gap between the sentries they had put out. It seemed that the men were so used to not being attacked, they were lax with securing their campsite. Ix thought about it. Who would attack a group of more than twenty armed men? Still, it shouldn’t have been as easy to get close as it was. It was as Togo Cairn had described. The tents

were set up in an orderly manner, lined up and spaced so that they made straight rows. There were only three manu birds—they were picketed near the center of camp—and no rakkeben. It confirmed what she had expected to find. Scanning the scene, she saw a man who must have been the commander. He was a big man, dark hair cut short on his blockish head. Ix knew him, though he looked more competent, tougher, and a little leaner than the last time she had seen him. She drew the others away from the camp so she could speak. “They’re soldiers of a kind,” she said. “They’re the Gray Man’s Collectors. In fact, they are Collector Unit 1, the first and finest of them.” “How do you know that?” Togo Cairn asked. “I used to work for the Gray Man, remember? I’ve met the man, talked to him, though briefly.” “Why are they here?” Sam asked. “Or maybe more importantly, why weren’t they with the Gray Fortress forces we fought and defeated?” Ix rubbed her chin and thought. “I think I remember hearing something about a long mission for one of the groups. I guess it could be that. If they were gone for several months, they might not even know that the Gray Man is dead. News doesn’t travel easily over the Bongana Mountains.” “You know about them, Ix,” Sam said. “What should we do? Will they attack us on sight, or is

there some way to pass without alarming them? I’d hate to backtrack and go around them if we lose a lot of time doing so.” “I’ll go talk to their commander. He knows me. I’ll find out what he knows. The chances aren’t good that they’re working for Chetra Dal. If they were, the unit probably would have been split up. I’ll get to the bottom of it.” Nalia looked into Ix’s eyes, trying to read deception in them. Trying to find out if she meant to betray them. As if the woman could tell if she was lying. Ix was too great a master of the assassin’s tool of lying for one like Nalia to see through it. Of course, she wasn’t lying, but the Sapsyr obviously thought she was. Apparently satisfied with what she saw in Ix’s eyes, Nalia gave a small nod and looked away, toward Sam. He was meeting the others’ eyes, judging what he saw there. Ix guessed he found what he wanted to know. He gave a nod even smaller than Nalia’s and simply said, “Okay, Ix, it’s all yours.” Interesting. She wondered why Nalia didn’t accuse her of anything like she normally did. Giving her enough rope to hang herself? “Okay, I’ll be back in a little while.” She headed toward the camp like a shadow, as quiet as one but harder to see. Ix stepped up to the commander and put a hand

on his shoulder. “Ru Wilkes,” she said. The man spun, sword coming out of its scabbard and the long knife leaving its sheath at the same time. Ix stepped closer to him, jammed the sword arm, and deflected the knife coming at her with her other hand. The deflection turned into a wrist lock and she shifted her stance, twisting the man’s arm painfully, heaving him off his feet, and slamming him onto the soft ground on his back. He huffed as the air was knocked out of his body. “Don’t do that,” Ix said, smiling at him. She saw his eyes go wide and then saw them narrow again in recognition. He relaxed and lay there. “Ix,” he said. Putting a hand out to him—it seemed silly because the man was twice her size—she said his name again. “Ru Wilkes. What is the First Collector Unit doing in this wilderness?” He took her proffered hand, but got up mainly on his own. “We’re coming back home. Finally. We’ve been on a long-range assignment for eight months now.” “What assignment?” The commander dusted off the bits of leaves and twigs that had stuck to his clothing. “There are some lakes, the largest anyone has ever seen, far to the east. The Gray Man sent us there based on a rumor that there were ruins and artifacts there that must be reclaimed. We could have used your

teleportation abilities. It was a long, arduous journey.” “Did you find the ruins you were searching for?” “Yes, and no,” the commander said. Other soldiers had noticed her by now, but when they recognized her and saw that she was already conversing with their commander, they went about their own business. “We found some ruins, but they had been picked through. We spent quite a bit of time there, trying to find hidden buildings or underground facilities, but they didn’t yield any of the things the Gray Man wants: books, scrolls, and other objects of knowledge. “We did see a great fortress along the way, several hundred miles from here. It didn’t appear to have anyone occupying it, but it was shut tight and we weren’t about to try to break in. Owners of fortresses don’t usually care for people who do that. I figure when we tell the Gray Man about it, he may send us back out with other troops to see what’s inside the walls. “Yeah, about that,” Ix said, dropping her eyes to her hands. “The Gray Man was killed a little more than five months ago. Almost all his forces died with him. You are the last unit of any kind, the last of the Gray Man’s soldiers.” Ru Wilkes’s head snapped up, eyes alight. “What? You’re joking, right? You have a reputation

for being a trickster. You’re just yanking my chain.” “I’m afraid not,” Ix said, her face neutral. “Shordan Drees, the Gray Man, just about everyone else is dead and gone. The fortress belongs to someone else now.” The commander dropped to the ground as if his knees had turned to water. He pulled his hand through his hair and his gaze became unfocused for a moment. He whispered, “All that time on this mission. For what?” as if he was arguing with himself. When he turned his gaze to her again, his eyes held a dangerous glint. “Who would have the power to do that? Should we try to avenge the Gray Man? Why are you still alive if everyone else is dead?” “It was a group of people,” she said. “A small group, but powerful. It included the remnant of the Zouyim and the Sapsyra, along with another powerful rohw user. They battled through all the soldiers and even Shordan Drees, all the way to the Gray Man himself. I am alive because I was defeated by the Sapsyr but allowed to live and teleport away. If you think that means I’m a coward, so be it. I am alive, and all the others are dead.” Wilkes shook his head. “No, I don’t think you’re a coward. I don’t see things as black-andwhite as Shordan Drees does…did. It’s hard to

believe anyone could defeat the Gray Man, though. It’s easier to believe that someone could kill all the soldiers than to beat him.” “It’s…complicated,” Ix said. “The other powerful rohw user? He’s the Gray Man’s nephew. They were somehow able to bring up some old memories, show him who he used to be before the Arzbedim tortured the humanity out of him. Once he realized what he had become, he gave the fortress and everything in it to his nephew, and then took his own life. Did you hear nothing of this in your travels?” “No. The areas we traveled were, for the most part, isolated. Even when we did find towns or villages, even cities, they were too far removed from our little corner of Gythe to have heard about such a local issue. I had never realized before how truly large the world is. Spending my life within a few hundred miles or so of where I was born made me believe things were more important than they actually were. The Gray Man was supreme in our area, but completely unknown in others. It was a sobering—and humbling—realization.” Ix nodded. She hadn’t remembered Ru Wilkes being so wise, so grounded. But he was always one of the few commanders for the special units she’d respected. He wasn’t the bloodthirsty kind of soldier that was so common in the Gray Man’s forces. He had grown, it seemed, because of the

harsh conditions to which he’d been exposed. She wondered if the Collectors under his command had the same attitude. “What should I do, Ix?” Ru Wilkes asked, looking deflated and still more than a little shocked. “I’ve spent nearly a decade in service to a man who is no longer alive. True, no one loved the man, but some respected him and most feared him. I disagreed with some of the things we had to do, but I’m a soldier and I followed orders. There are no orders anymore.” Ix looked at him carefully, the defeated posture with his shoulders slumped and his head hanging down. She wasn’t sure how receptive he’d be—let alone the soldiers in his unit—but she figured it was worth a try. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I have a suggestion. All of you are basically free to do as you want. If that means going home to your families, that’s fine. If it means joining or forming packs of brigands, that’s also your choice.” The commander was waving his arms as if to protest. “Wait,” Ix said. “Let me finish. I said you could all do any of those things, but that’s not my suggestion. If you want to continue to be a soldier, and maybe for something more in line with your viewpoint, you could join the forces of the new government that is being set up as we speak. It’s based in the Gray Fortress, though the stronghold has a different name now. I can bring the person to

you who can give you the details, if you’re interested.” Ru Wilkes eyebrows rose at that. “They would take former members of an enemy army?” “The ones responsible for setting up the new government don’t judge people by their former associations, but weigh each person individually. They accepted me, though I did my best to kill them when we previously met. If they allowed me to be part of their cause, I’m sure you will have no problem.” “Hmm.” The commander scratched his head. “A chance to continue to serve, but without the irrational commands. It sounds interesting. When can I meet this person you referred to, the one that can give me details?” “Twenty minutes.” His eyebrows rose higher at that, then drew down again as he realized something. “That’s right, you can teleport him here.” “Well, no,” Ix said. “He’s actually about a half mile or so that way.” She pointed toward the southwest. “Go get him. I’ll talk to my Collectors, tell them what you told me. He can speak with all of us, and then we can figure out what to do.” “I’ll go and fetch him. Be warned, though. If any of your soldiers decide to try to avenge their master and attack, they will be killed as quickly and

efficiently as you have ever seen death come to another. Two of the five I will bring are a Zouy and a Sapsyr. I am no slouch in combat either.” “I will make sure there are no problems,” Ru Wilkes said. “If someone tries, I’ll take care of them myself. My word on it.” “Good. I’ll be back shortly. You may want to give the call for the sentries to come in. Or would you rather I tap them on the shoulder and scare them before telling them myself?” Ix wore a wicked grin. “Uh, no. I’ll go ahead and give the signal.” Ix left, strolling through the edge of the camp and out into the thick forest, snatching a branch from a bush as she went and twirling it in her fingers idly. She wasn’t sure how this would turn out, but she had high hopes. If they could get even the commander to join the army, he would be a great asset to Danaba Kemp. The way she saw it, they could use all the help they could get.

CHAPTER 21

S

am was a little nervous. He knew Ix could take care of herself, but with the potential for some of those weird teleportation traps around and a whole squad of Collectors, he was a little tense. “It will be fine, Sam,” Nalia said to him, coming up and rubbing his neck. “There is no reason for the Collectors to attack her. They were all the Gray Man’s creatures.” He gave her a half-lidded sidelong glance. She hadn’t really taken the opportunity to say derogatory things about the assassin lately. She could have, certainly, but she didn’t. He wondered why. “I know, but it’s a whole group of soldiers. Some of the Collectors we met in the past were not…completely rational. What if this group is

bloodthirsty and attacks as soon as they see someone who isn’t in their own group?” “Ix will not be seen if she does not want to be seen. She is experienced and skilled. She will be fine.” Sam turned his head and looked into her eyes. He could hardly believe what he had just heard. Praise? For Ix? He decided he wouldn’t ask about it. If felt like one of those things that might disappear like fog in the summer sun if examined too closely. Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything. Ix suddenly appeared at the edge of the trees ten feet away. She didn’t teleport, just used her stealth to come into the camp unseen and unheard. Even the rakkeben gave a start when she spoke, not realizing she was there. Of course, the slight breeze was in her face, so the wolves hadn’t caught her scent. Still, it was impressive. “Let’s go,” she said to Sam. “I talked with the commander, someone I remembered and who knows me. We are lucky. He’s actually a reasonable man, unlike many of the Collectors I’ve met in the past. I told him about the Gray Man’s defeat and told him that you would talk with him.” The others had gathered around. Sam wasn’t sure how he felt about talking to a group of Collectors. “Why didn’t you just tell him everything?”

“I am not an official representative of the new government,” she said. “I’m not either,” Sam answered. Rindu took up the conversation. “Technically, Sam, you are. All of the leaders have requested that you take part in the government, most wanting you to lead it. Dr. Walt relies on your opinion and advice. Maybe more importantly, Whitehall and all in it belongs to you. Grayson himself gave it to you, not to mention that you are his nephew. These things will be important to men who just found out they are masterless.” Sam understood what the Zouy was saying. For better or worse, he seemed to be in a leadership position. There was really no use fighting it. “Okay, fine. We’ll go talk to them. Can you tell us about them?” Ix explained briefly about their extended mission and the hardships they faced. She gave her impression of the man Ru Wilkes and what she had seen briefly in the camp, how the other Collectors comported themselves. “The soldiers themselves should be given the option, I think, to join the new government’s forces or to simply go their own way. I would suggest offering Ru Wilkes a leadership position in the army. He is a shrewd, experienced commander, and Danaba could really use his abilities.” She looked off toward the east. “I also think he

has an attitude that will fit in well with what Dr. Walt and the others are trying to do. He was never a good fit for the Gray Man’s army. He always seemed too principled for it. He was so competent, though, they couldn’t pass up the opportunity to use his talents.” “He sounds like an interesting man,” Sam said. “Well, let’s get over there and talk to him. We still have traveling to do today.” As they followed Ix to where the Collector camp was, Ix cautioned them. “I made a point of telling Wilkes that any hostile acts toward any in our party would be met with swift death. From my experience with the Gray Man’s forces, there are always those in any squad who have their own agenda and think they can act as they desire. The commander said if any tried to attack, he’d kill them himself. I believe him.” “Okay,” Sam said. “Thanks for the warning. We’ll keep on guard.” As if the members of their group were ever anything else. They arrived at the camp and saw the men lined up in ranks. As Togo Cairn said, there were just over twenty of them. The big dark-haired man at their head would be Ru Wilkes. Sam looked him over as he approached. He was fit, though a little haggard, with arms twice or more the size of Sam’s. Like Emerius, he was well-muscled yet held himself lightly, as if he could move in a blink. Sam

didn’t doubt he was fast for his size, fast for any size, really. Scars on his arms, hands, and even a few on his face, caught the sunlight. None of them were from deep cuts, but it was obvious the man had seen battle. A lot of it. As he was appraising the man, Sam saw in the blue eyes facing him that the commander was judging him, too. “Ru Wilkes, this is Sam Sharp,” Ix said, gesturing toward Sam. “He is the Gray Man’s nephew. The Gray Man gave him the entire fortress —now called Whitehall—and everything in it. He speaks for the new government.” Sam gave her a look of frustration when she said that last, but he supposed he needed to get used to it. He would try to sound official and get right to the point. “Commander, let me just say that I’m sorry for the hardships you have suffered on your long mission. Ix has told me about it and how long you’ve been gone from home.” The man nodded, still scanning Sam, still apparently making up his mind about him. “I would like to tell you briefly of our situation so that you have the information you need to make a decision. We are at a critical time right now. The new government is still being set up, with the cooperation of many of the cities and communities within a few hundred miles, more in some cases.

It’s slow work, but I don’t doubt it will be successful. “Maybe more importantly, there is another powerful person who wants to follow in the footsteps of my uncle and become the sole ruler of at least one section of Gythe, perhaps the entire world. Chetra Dal is an energy user much like Grayson—the Gray Man—was. He is looking for the third of three powerful artifacts that will allow him to crush all resistance, and we are in a desperate race to stop him. “At the same time, we have word of a large army that is being arrayed against us, an army whose only purpose is to crush the new government and all resistance to Dal’s rule. We, in turn, are trying to build our own army.” As he spoke, Sam’s eyes passed over the other Collectors, judging their reaction as well as Ru Wilkes’s. Many of the men stood rigidly at attention, their faces unreadable, but a few showed distaste. Whether of Sam, the new government, or what he’d said about the enemies set against them, he didn’t know. “The point I’m trying to make,” Sam continued, “is that each of you have the ability and the experience to be valuable members of the forces of the new government, to be able to take part in protecting the peace of our friends and family from tyrants and other dangers. We need you and would

like you to join us. We are able—” There was a flicker of motion off to Sam’s right, and before he knew what he was doing, he felt the rohw pulse within him. Time seemed to slow, each second becoming an eternity. He was vaguely aware of his left hand lightly gripping his staff while his right swung in a circle back to front. In his slowed-down state, it seemed as if he was moving at a normal, leisurely pace, but he knew that to an observer, he was moving faster than could be tracked by the human eye. Midway through his circle, his hand intercepted and closed around the hilt of a dagger as it spun toward him. Time sped up, and Sam watched as Ru Wilkes’s sword cleared his scabbard and lashed out in one motion. The head of one of his soldiers, a man in the front row off to the side of where Sam had been facing, rolled across the ground with a spray of blood. Wilkes held his sword at the ready, scanning the other men for any hint of motion. Sam looked down at his right hand and was surprised to find it holding a knife, balanced for throwing. The commander, once he was sure no others would attack, looked at Sam with his mouth open. He shook his head and snapped his mouth shut before opening it again to speak. “I…I’m sorry. I had no idea, though I should have been watching Crendan more closely. He always did take too

much joy in the bloodier tasks we were given.” The man looked nervous, as if Sam or the others—who Sam had just noticed were on alert, Rindu and Nalia with their weapons bared, Emerius with an arrow knocked and drawn, Ix on the balls of her feet and ready to pounce—might punish him for the attack. The wolves had their hackles up with teeth bared, and Oro growled softly. The manu bird cocked its head at the people, the same posture it used when begging for food. Sam flipped the knife to grab the blade then held it out to Wilkes. “It’s not your fault, Commander.” He gestured with the knife until Ru Wilkes took it from him. “Everyone relax. The man responsible for that interruption won’t bother us anymore.” He was proud of the way his voice sounded so calm despite the fact he felt like his bones would shake loose. The others relaxed marginally. At least, they put their weapons away, but their postures, though seeming relaxed, were like coiled snakes, ready to strike if there were any other “interruptions.” “As I was saying…” Sam noticed that almost all the soldiers were paying closer attention. In fact, he saw a few slight nods and looks that could only be respect on some faces. It was a start. “My uncle, the Gray Man, did some horrible things. In the end, he realized who he was and what he had done because of the years of torture by the Arzbedim.

He told me to use the fortress and all in it to do some good. That’s what I’m trying to do. “The way I see it, all of you have a choice. I would like it if you would all join the forces of the new government, but I don’t expect that will happen. Some of you may be tired of the violence, tired of living by your skill with weapons, and you may just want to go home. I can respect that. Some of you may want to do your part to make Gythe a more peaceful place to live, and to you we will welcome you and anything you may do to help us be successful. Others may not like either of those choices and may choose another path. That’s fine, too. “Any who do not actively oppose us, or me, as Crendan here did, can go their own way with no hard feelings. I will transport any who wish to go back to the fortress, either to join us or to leave from there to go elsewhere. Any who wish to stay here or leave from here, that is your choice and we won’t argue with you. “One thing must be clear, however. The Gray Man is no more. His soldiers are no more. His Collectors are no more. As of right now, your future is in your own hands, your own choice. In a half an hour, I will teleport those who want to go back to the fortress. You have until then to decide if you want to go with us or not. Think about it, discuss it if you want to, but make a decision. Things are

moving quickly, and we can’t wait long.” Sam nodded to Ru Wilkes, turned, and walked toward a clearing they had passed a quarter mile away. Nalia, Rindu, Emerius, and Ix fell into step beside him, the wolves, manu, and Oro flanking them and ranging ahead. “That was something,” Emerius said. “How did you react so quickly to that knife coming at you?” “I have no idea,” Sam said, expelling a breath and finally giving in to the fear he’d been tamping down since the attack. He held his hand up, level to the ground, and watched as it shook violently. “It was something with the rohw. I’m glad it happened, but I didn’t do anything consciously. I think I just got really lucky.” “It is not luck,” Rindu said. “You have become accustomed to holding your rohw out in an aura around you. Your practice has increased your sensitivity so when something encroached upon your space, the energy you held within you reacted. It is much like when someone strikes your knee and your lower leg kicks out. A reflex. It was nicely done, and fortuitous. I sensed the knife in my own aura but was too far to do anything about it.” “I believe the soldiers will respect you more now,” Nalia said. “They will discuss it amongst themselves and will attribute it to ‘magic’ that you share with your uncle. They have seen incredible things from him and so now expect them of you. I

do not believe the next attempt on your life from them will be so simple.” “Thanks, Nal,” Sam said. “Now I’m going to be nervous someone will try to assassinate me and that my aura may not decide to help me next time.” He sighed. “I may never sleep again.” They arrived at the meadow and each found a rock or tree to sit on. “That was a nice speech,” Ix said, probably just to fill the silence. “Thanks,” Sam said. “I didn’t really know what to say. I know some of the remaining Collectors want nothing more than to go join a group of bandits or to start their own. As Wilkes said, some enjoyed the things Grayson had them do more than they should have. But I hope some will join us. I hope one of them is the commander.” “He’ll join,” Ix said. “You had him from the start, but the way you reacted to that attack, especially not blaming him, he’s completely yours. Wait and see.” Sam had learned the meadow where they waited so he could return. When the half hour was up, they went back to the camp. Almost all of the tents had been taken down and packed away. Three remained, obviously people who were not going to return to the fortress with them. Ru Wilkes met them as they approached. “We are ready,” he said. “Three will not be coming with

us. One of those is a Collector who was a local guide, from Shumashin, who will be going back home. The other two will go off somewhere else, I don’t know where. They say they’re done with being soldiers. The rest of us will come back to Whitehall, but only fourteen will join the forces there, including me. The others want to leave from Whitehall to go back home. They’re sick of violence and just want to see their families again.” Sam nodded. It was a better turnout than he had expected. “That sounds reasonable to me. Are you all packed up and ready to go?” “We are,” the commander said. “Are you going to use those bell artifacts that the Gray Man used to attack the Zouyim temple?” Rindu raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t speak. “No,” Sam said, wondering if he should ask questions. He decided not to, that he could always ask later if necessary. “I am able to teleport groups on my own, sort of like Ix, but her ability is part of her and I use the rohw to do it. It’s something I learned from Grayson—I mean the Gray Man— before he died. Gather everyone around so we can go back to Whitehall—that’s the new name of the fortress—and introduce you to the leader of the new government’s forces.” Within moments, all those who would be going to Whitehall grouped together in tight, orderly

ranks. Sam told them they didn’t need to clasp hands or grab each other’s shoulders as they started to do. “Okay, it’ll take a minute or two for me to prepare,” he said. “My teleportation is not instantaneous like Ix’s.” He sat down on the ground and as promised, they were all transported to Whitehall within a few minutes. When it was done and the soldiers looked up toward the keep and the walls of the fortress, they all gasped. “Now you know why it’s called Whitehall,” Sam said. “I changed the color of the stone so that it wouldn’t be confused with the Gray Man’s fortress. This way, the new government can have a fresh start, not being tied to the history of the place.” The few men who were leaving to their homes departed immediately. The others milled around until Ru Wilkes brought them to attention. “Do you want me to march them into the keep to meet this general of yours?” he asked Sam. “No, there’s no need for that. We can just walk in an orderly manner to where he’ll be drilling his soldiers.” Rindu and Nalia took their leave, as did Skitter, Ix, and Emerius, all promising to be back in front of the stables within half an hour so they could do more traveling with the remainder of the day. The

rakkeben and the manu remained in the area awaiting their riders. “Okay,” Sam said. “Let’s get you all settled.” He led them to Danaba Kemp who was, as he thought, trying to drill and train some of his soldiers. Sam briefly explained the situation and who the soldiers were, highlighting that they had a lot of experience both in battle and in following orders. Danaba Kemp and Ru Wilkes looked at each other like two cats placed in a small room together. They were both obviously used to command and skilled warriors. They eyed each other silently for a little while before Danaba shrugged and patted the other man on the shoulder. “I think we could use you as a commander, Wilkes. Does that sound fair to you?” The big man formed a small smile. “Yes, that would be acceptable.” “Good, good. Now, come on over here. I’ll tell you about…”

CHAPTER 22

T

he two men walked off toward the trainees, and Sam knew things would work out well. As for himself, he had more traveling to do yet, so he went back to the stables and waited for the others to arrive. When they did, he was sitting there petting Shonyb, ready. They circled wide of the Collectors’ camp site in case the men left there were waiting until the next day to leave. There were no hard feelings from Sam’s side about the Collectors not wanting to join with them, but he thought there may be some ill will from those who now had to go and do something else with their lives. They passed within a quarter mile of the camp and didn’t see any movement at all. “I was thinking,” Sam said to no one in particular, and to everyone there. “We could be traveling faster.”

Ix’s eyes lit up and she opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it and through sheer force of will waited patiently for Sam to continue. “When we can ride the mounts, we can go at a fair clip, even though the snow makes it slower than if there wasn’t any. When we can’t ride them, though, it’s too slow slogging through the snow and ice, and the snow shoes, while they speed things up, still aren’t very quick. We need skis.” They all looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language, except Nalia. She knew what he was talking about. “Explain it to them, Sam.” Her gaze scanned the others. “It is a good idea. You will see.” “Skis are long wooden boards that you strap to your feet,” he said, but then shook his head. “Hold on.” They would need a practical demonstration. He looked around for something suitable and his eyes fell on a half-buried portion of a fallen tree. Insects had had their way with some of it, almost completely hollowing out the inner wood and leaving a U-shaped section barely thicker than the bark. Sam dug around the sides of the log skeleton and then put Ahimiro underneath and pried it up. That was enough to loosen it from the soil and the snow, but it was too big yet. Taking a deep breath and pulling in rohw from the environment around him, he struck down sharply on one section of the

hollow log. It broke with a crack, leaving him a piece about three feet long with a diameter of a little over two feet. He was easily able to pick it up and move it to a small hill. Using his staff, he scraped the rotting wood from the inside of the “U” and set it down with the open side up. He pushed it through the snow, making a large furrow. The snow was relatively fresh, so he pushed the log all the way down the hill, hiked up, and pushed it down again. By this time, the snow in the depression he made was getting packed. “Okay,” he said to them. “Watch this.” He put the log in the track he had made and sat down in it. Then, he pushed off and slid down the hill on his new sled. He didn’t go extremely fast, but fast enough for the wind of his traveling to sting his face. When he reached the bottom of the hill, he stood up and looked at everyone. Emerius looked at Ix. “Did he just take fifteen minutes to show us how to make a sled?” Ix nodded, staring. “I think so. Do you think he’s finally lost it? I mean, Grayson wasn’t too far from being insane himself. Maybe it runs in the family.” Rindu was standing there, looking calmly at Sam. “Are you trying to illustrate something Sam? If so, we do not understand.”

Sam could feel his face, red hot, hot enough to melt the snow around him. Maybe they would think it was from the cold wind. “I…I didn’t know you had sleds here, otherwise I would have just mentioned it.” “Of course we have sleds,” Rindu said. “What else would children do in the snow, besides have snowball fights? Do not be ridiculous.” It’s true, Sam, Skitter sent. Even young hapaki make sleds much like you just made for us. “All right, all right,” Sam said. “Skis are like a sled, except that they are strapped to your feet and they are long and skinny. With them, you can travel quickly over snow, much like you can when going downhill in a sled. I want to have skis made for all of you so we can use them to travel faster. I have three pairs at Whitehall. Mine, Nalia’s, and my mother’s. We should be able to have a carpenter or a bowyer make some for our use. It’ll speed things up.” The looks he got ranged from confusion to frustration, but they all agreed or nodded politely. Sam would talk to a craftsman when he got back to the fortress at the end of the day. For the remainder of the day, Togo Cairn led them toward their ultimate destination. They were making their way inevitably toward the final artifact, but it seemed to Sam that they were inching along at a pace that would take years to

arrive. If only they could come up with a better way. As soon as they returned to Whitehall, he fetched his cross-country skis and took them to Dr. Walt. “Why are you carrying skis around, Sam?” the scholar said when he looked up from the book he was reading to see who his visitor was. “I had the idea that we could travel faster if we used skis,” Sam said. “I want to get some made for the others. Hopefully they’ll be quick studies, and we can start moving at a better pace.” “I see. Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” He looked at Sam quizzically, as if to ask again why he was standing there holding skis. “I thought that maybe you’d know a craftsman who could make the skis for the others,” Sam said, and he saw understanding on Dr. Walt’s face. “A bowyer sounds like the obvious choice, though a carpenter or cooper might work, too. They would have to work with a smith to get the bindings done, also.” “Ah, I know just the craftsmen to ask. I can take you to them now. I probably need a break from reading anyway.” Sam went with him, carrying the skis, and soon he had promises that the work would be started the next morning. Both craftsmen saw no problem in having it done within a week.

“That’s great,” Sam said. “I wasn’t sure how long it would take.” He gave them some rough dimensions based on the size and weight of the party members. The size of the skis would be close enough. They weren’t going to be competing or anything. With that task done, Sam ate dinner with the others and then went to bed. They would have to suffer through the same slow method of travel for a few more days, but then they would have their skis and be able to go faster. Four days later, Sam was standing in front of the others, all with their new skis. Well, all but his and Nalia’s. Theirs weren’t new. “These are cross-country skis,” he told them. “You can use them to go down hills, but they are good for flat ground and even slight uphills as well.” He shushed around the area he had selected for them to practice. It was a little-used corner of one of the courtyards with snow that, even though it was slightly slushy, was not tracked through. When he stopped, he looked at the others. Nalia was nodding, but she already knew how to use the skis. Rindu looked like he was trying to figure something out. Ix had a disgusted look on her face. Emerius was trying to keep from laughing. Togo Cairn was looking back and forth between Sam’s and his own skis, as if trying to compare them to see if they were the same.

“Okay,” Sam said. “Who wants to go first?” The blank looks he got from them made him want to chuckle. “Come on, it’s not that hard.” Within an hour, everyone was moving around the area on their skis, some with more finesse than others. All of the party members were fit and had good body control—it was one of the prime requisites for a warrior and not much less so for a wilderness guide—and Sam was pleased that they had picked it up so easily. He debated whether or not to bring the rakkeben with them. He wanted to let the big wolves rest, but Shonyb looked at him in such a way that he understood she wanted to come. He figured it would be good to have them along, if for nothing else than to use their sense of smell to detect enemies. Given the choice of his litter or a backpack Sam would wear, Skitter, chose to ride on Shonyb. Less than an hour and a half after introducing everyone to their new skis, they were ready to leave. Sam teleported them to where they had left off the day before. He only had to get up from his cross-legged position and put his skis on and they were off, eating up the miles as they traveled in two lines through the snow. “This was a good idea, Sam,” Nalia told him as they moved through the forest, which was not as heavily wooded as they had been traveling through.

“It feels like we are making progress. Finally.” Sam smiled at her. “Hopefully we’ll get into a nice rhythm and get to the last artifact in time. I think we’ll need to try out another idea I have, if I remember the maps I once saw of the area we’re going to go through. We’ll see. I think we have a few days yet.” By the end of the day, Sam could see that everyone else was as tired as he was. The rakkeben didn’t seem to be tired at all from their running alongside the skiers. It was good that they were able to rest while the humans exerted themselves. “I am going to sleep really well tonight,” he said. The others nodded. “It is a different motion than I am used to,” Rindu said. “I believe I may be sore when I wake up in the morning. It has been many years since I have been able to say that.” They continued skiing each day for three more days. The terrain was surprisingly mild. Sam knew they were going through the Canadian Rockies, called the Bongana Range here on Gythe, but they didn’t have to climb high peaks. There was a wide valley that snaked its way through the high mountains, so they rarely had to do any technical climbing. They went generally north, but for two days they took a sharp detour to the east, following the easier route through the mountains. Sam couldn’t

get over how gorgeous the area was. The snow was melting, though the base was still thick enough for them to continue skiing, and here and there he saw plants and flowers poking their way up through the slushy white blanket covering the landscape. The crisp air, not too cold but just perfect, invigorated him without burning his lungs as he breathed it in. He thought, not for the first time, that he wished he could just enjoy the area instead of worrying about getting through it to their destination. At one point, where their route took a sharp northeastern turn, Sam saw what he had been waiting for. There was a long lake that stretched out ahead of them, still with some ice floating here and there, but mostly thawed out. As far as he could see, the water stretched toward where Togo Cairn said they were headed. “It’s time for another method of travel, I think,” he said as the party stopped at the edge of the lake. “Give me a few minutes to learn this place, and then I’ll explain.”

CHAPTER 23

O

nce he was ready, Sam teleported back to Whitehall, taking the rakkeben, Oro, and the manu with him, then right back to where everyone was waiting. When he returned, he brought with him three canoes and six paddles. The mounts he had left at the fortress. “It’s going to be faster to go across the lake than to try to go around it,” Sam said, smiling. “It’s thawed out enough for this to be a viable method of travel.” The others were open to the idea. Togo Cairn congratulated Sam on good thinking and inspected the canoes, nodding. He seemed like he had used one before. Sam and Nalia took one canoe, Emerius and Ix another, and Rindu joined Togo Cairn near the third. They launched onto the lake, and in a few

minutes, it seemed as if all the party members had been born to paddle across the water. The terrain had been growing more and more beautiful to Sam with every mile they traveled, but as he paddled through the water, he was able to see it even more clearly, not the least because he was not in the middle of trees that obscured his view. Above, wispy clouds floated lazily across the deep blue sky. The mountains surrounding the lake were sharp and rocky, with trees up their sides but their tops bare gray dirt and stone. Some of them had piles of gravel and scree that had slid down and accumulated, leaving their lower portions bare of vegetation also. Some of the piles went all the way to the water’s edge. Sam took a deep breath and smiled at Nalia as he continued to paddle in a steady, rhythmic cadence. Her smile told him that she was enjoying the beautiful landscape as well. The soft burbling sound of the paddles entering the water, moving through it, and emerging was relaxing and almost hypnotic. “It’s so peaceful here,” Ix said, breaking the near-silence. “It makes it hard to believe that we’re fighting for our lives and our freedom.” “Yes,” Rindu said. “It is as one hapaki said to another as they rested in their den, ‘Surely there is not a care in the world, nothing that can intrude on our peaceful world.’ So, too, like the hapaki, we

cannot see the turmoil in the world for our sheltered, peaceful surroundings.” When the Zouy did not continue, Nalia rolled her eyes as she looked at Emerius. Sam strained to keep from laughing, mostly unsuccessfully, but Rindu didn’t notice. Apparently, he thought he had made his point and was scanning the shoreline. During the day, Sam saw several different examples of the local wildlife. Deer and elk were a common enough sight, but once he caught a glimpse of a small brown and red fox stalking some other animal further into the trees. A black bear and her two cubs looked up from where they were drinking from the lake to watch the strange procession go by. There were many types of birds, from bright blue jays to some type of dark-colored bird with white stripes on its wings and tail. He liked seeing animals in the wild, as long as they weren’t predators looking back at him as if he would be tasty. They paddled up the long lake, much bigger north to south than it was east to west, for three days. Then they headed up the river that fed it. Two more days of paddling got them to a much larger river. “I once saw a map with this river on it,” Sam said. “It goes for hundreds of miles to the north. We can follow it until we are near where we will head to the east to get to our destination.”

The paddling was not easy, and at times they had to exit the water and travel on land to avoid the rapids in the swiftly moving water. Still, they made good time, better than if they had to try to go through the foliage and rugged terrain. During their rest breaks, during which they came ashore, Sam and Rindu would find a small clearing or meadow and practice what Sam started referring to as “rohw combat.” It consisted of exercises to generate large amounts of energy and then to use them offensively with the other person. Of course, the one being attacked would be using his own energy to try to defend—and to counterattack as well, of course—so in effect the two were sparring but doing so either standing or sitting still. He knew it was a strange sight to the others, especially when one of Rindu’s attacks would get through his defense and either knock the breath out of him or actually cause his body to be thrown aside. “You learn quickly,” Rindu told him. “I am rarely able to successfully strike you with the same attack.” “Thank you,” Sam said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Why did Rindu never sweat when they sparred or did exercises? It was unnatural. “It feels more comfortable now, though I still have to focus. I haven’t reached the point where my rohw activates and defends me all by itself as you spoke

of.” “It will come, with time and practice. Do not be impatient. You are making marvelous progress.” Rindu convinced Nalia to take a turn with Sam. She was proficient at this type of combat, too, but not nearly as unbeatable as she was with physical combat. While he still wasn’t able to strike her a solid blow, he felt like he had her pressed hard and scrambling to deflect or block some of his attacks. It was the closest he’d ever been to actually getting through her guard. “I must practice my rohw combat more,” she said. “You are more capable than I would have thought possible after so short a time. I would not want you to beat me. You would never stop talking about it. It is better for everyone if I continue to pummel you relentlessly when we spar. Yes, better for all.” She smiled at him when she said it, but she showed entirely too many teeth. If Sam didn’t know better, he would say she was making fun of him. Ix watched the combat carefully. Sam knew that she didn’t really see anything, just two people motionless with looks of concentration on their faces. Perhaps the occasional grunt or movement of a body when an invisible blow landed. “Would you teach me something of how to use the rohw, Master Rindu?” she asked one day after Sam saw her chewing her lower lip and darting her

eyes as if she was nervous. He waited for Nalia to object or to make a cutting remark, but it did not come. When he looked at her, she was merely looking toward her father, waiting for what he would say. “Yes,” the Zouy said. “It is desirable for everyone to know about the rohw. With your heritage, I am sure you have an affinity for it. I can sense in you an ability greater than most people. It is the same with Bao Ling. I have great expectations for that little girl. She will do well.” “Thank you,” Ix said, bowing and saluting the monk with her right fist cradled in her left palm held out in front of her chest. “She will be a good example to my clan. To all in Zhong, to tell the truth. We have never had one of our people become a Zouy.” “It will be advantageous to all concerned,” Rindu said, returning the salute. “The first thing we must do is to determine your sensitivity and improve upon it. Please come here and sit in front of me.” He suited his own words by sinking into the familiar cross-legged position. When the assassin took the same posture in front of him, he began. “The rohw is all around you and all through you. The name comes from…” Sam smiled and turned toward the others. His smile grew when he saw Nalia wore a similar one herself. Maybe she was finally starting to trust the

assassin. That would be wonderful, one less worry. Rindu and Ix only worked on rohw sensitivity for fifteen minutes before they rose and came over to the rest of the party. “I know we must continue on, so I made it short this time,” he said matter-of-factly. Turning to Ix, he said, “We will find time to train more properly. I will work it into the schedule Sam and I already keep.” Ix seemed happy for it. “That would be wonderful, Master.” She went toward the canoe she and Emerius shared. He said something Sam couldn’t hear, and she just shrugged and started dragging their boat back to the water. The big hunter looked toward the others, so Sam heard it when he mumbled, “…and soon everyone will be doing magic…” As the party went farther north, the mountains became higher and sharper. The jagged stone precipices made a sharp contrast to the sky and the soft, drifting clouds. Snow still covered most of the slopes, though on some bare places the white blanket had slid off the sharp pitches. “Avalanche country, if ever I saw it,” Togo Cairn said, his eyes never staying in one spot. He scanned the peaks, especially those closer to where they paddled through the water. “It’s better being here than moving around on land just below the slopes, but I still don’t like it. I don’t relish the

thought of being buried alive in snow.” Sam gulped. Looking more closely, he saw how thick the snow was on some of those mountains. One bare patch above them clearly showed how much of the packed snow had fallen. The remaining snow ended abruptly in a wall of white that had to be thirty feet deep. He thought he agreed with the tracker and wondered if there was anything they could do to make things safer. As if reading Sam’s mind, Cairn said, “There’s nothing much we can do about it, though. No matter which way we go, we’ll have the same problem. This mountain range goes on for hundreds of miles, by the look of them. We can try to be quiet. I’ve seen avalanches start with some fool yelling. The sound makes the snow vibrate, I suppose, and that shakes it all loose.” “It is true,” Rindu said. “As with the rohw, the voice causes vibrations that can be powerful enough to set things in motion. In this case, those things would be massive piles of snow.” Sam had an idea. “Would it be better if we projected some rohw and caused avalanches in front of us so there would not be the danger of the snow falling on us?” A look of horror crossed Togo Cairn’s face. Rindu spoke before the tracker did, though. “No. Do not forget that we are not the only ones in the world. There may be people in these trees and there

are definitely animals. We do not have the right to set off such a catastrophe for them. Many will lose their lives. It is better if we pass through without incident, trying to remain quiet, and hopeful that the melting and settling of the snow does not cause it to drop on us.” Cairn nodded vigorously. “Oh, right,” Sam said, loosening the collar of his shirt to help to cool him down. Why did it get so hot all of a sudden? After five days, they finally ran out of unobstructed water in which to paddle. The river continued on, but it became too dangerous to try paddling upstream. “Well,” Sam said. “It looks like it’s back to traveling on land, at least for now. I hardly think that bodies of water will be more thawed out as we go north. I’m expecting them to be frozen solid. Still, it was good while it lasted. I think we made up some time.” Sam was sad to have to teleport back to Whitehall to leave the canoes there, though it was good to see the rested rakkeben when he searched them out. Oro seemed happy, too, seeming to understand he would be reunited with Emerius. Feather, Ix’s manu bird, stared blankly ahead, occasionally pecking at Sam for any treats he may have. They could travel three more hours before it became dark outside. They would not attempt to

travel at night, not in the terrain they were in. It was dangerous enough during the daylight. Doing it at night would be insane. “I think we’re getting close to where we need to cut across the mountains to the east,” Sam said as the party was eating their dinner in one of the dining halls. “At least, according to the map Lahim drew us. We’ve had it pretty easy, sticking to the valley that goes due north. I’m relieved, but I’m also a little apprehensive. We don’t know where Dal is. He may be close to where we’re at. What will we do if we get to the artifact at the same time?” “We’ll probably get into another fight,” Emerius said. “Based on what’s happened with the other artifacts.” “Yeah,” Sam said with a sigh, “you’re probably right.” “Do not dwell on what may be, Sam,” Rindu said. “It is sufficient for us to think about obtaining the other artifact, finding its hiding place. We can think about the other issues if and when they occur. ‘Each day is sufficient for its own problems,’ after all.” “Was that a quote from the Bible?” Sam asked. “It was listed in one of the books you gave me and attributed to someone named Matthew.” Sam shook his head. He knew the Zouy was correct, but he still felt anxious. He was looking

forward to meditating before bed to clear his mind and regain his balance. All the anxieties about their quest and what may happen had him tense. He didn’t like it. The next day started their full days of travel on land again. It was more difficult than ever, even using the skis. Sometimes they would get lucky and find an animal trail they could ski through, but most often, they had to take the skis off and hike through the thickest undergrowth and trees Sam had ever seen. It was miserable and slow. At times, it seemed as if he was playing Twister with the entire forest, branches reaching out and trying to grab him at every turn. Whenever there was a small clearing, even some spacing in between trees, he thanked whatever power might be for his luck. It wasn’t just him, though. The rest of the party seemed frustrated with their slow pace as well. All except Rindu, that is. He may have felt frustration, but no one would have ever known it from his face. They were in one of the small clearings when the entire world seemed to shake and fall apart.

CHAPTER 24

T

he first thing that registered in Sam’s mind was that everything had gone still and silent, as if all of the universe was waiting for something to happen. A few seconds later, there was a rumbling sound. No, not just a sound. There was a rumbling that he could feel through the ground, up to his feet and throughout his whole body. He thought at first that it was an earthquake. He looked around, wide-eyed, and saw that the others were as shocked as he was. Shocked and confused. It was several more seconds until he understood what was happening. The crashing, breaking sounds that accompanied the rumble were really what made him understand, allowed his mind to finally grasp what had been eluding him: they were in the path of an avalanche.

Sam didn’t know how long they had. He knew that avalanches could travel at over two hundred miles per hour—though they more commonly went at just under half that speed—but even the slower “wet snow” avalanches about twenty miles per hour, faster than they could run. The party had seconds to do something or they would all be buried to suffocate, if the snow itself didn’t crush them instantly. Eyes darting, Sam looked around for any kind of shelter. There was none. They were in the midst of the same trees and shrubs they had been traveling in all day. There was a promising pile of boulders less than twenty feet away, but they wouldn’t provide enough shelter to withstand the wave of snow and ice plummeting toward them. Still, it was a start. “Get behind those rocks,” he yelled. His voice seemed to snap the others out of their own thinking. He wondered if any of them had a better idea. They would never be able to touch Ix’s skin so she could teleport them away in time, not with all the confusion and the heavy clothing she wore. If they did, they had better say something, because otherwise they had only seconds left to live. They all sprinted to where he had indicated. He joined them there. The first thing to hit them was a strong wind, like a storm wind, strong enough to knock them

down if they hadn’t been pressed against the downhill side of the boulders. If the wind preceding the avalanche did this, what hope was there to withstand the snow itself? Sam’s mind was spinning. There was something he was missing, something he should know. He desperately reached for anything that could save their lives. It was up to him, it seemed. The others were wedged against the rocks, but by their faces, they knew they were doomed. Even Rindu, whose face rarely showed emotion, had a distant look in his eye, as if he was calling on all his vast experience to help. Nalia was gripping Sam’s hand, bravely facing upslope as if to defy the avalanche by sheer force of will. Just as the wind turned to snow spray at the leading edge of the main body of the mass of frozen water, Sam found what he had been groping for. He had only time enough for half a breath before he dug into not only his own rohw stores, but also into the rohw of the surroundings, including the other party members. Snapping his mind into focus, he desperately projected the energy out from himself. He had done many things with his body’s own aura since he had first started learning about the rohw. It was a useful method for visualizing and feeling the energy that surrounded him. He had used it to “see” in total darkness; used it to sense things intruding on his space—like attackers—and he had used it to push things away from himself,

widening his energy field and using it like a shield. This last he had only done with small things: butterflies, small twigs or stones thrown at him, and the like. He knew that a weak shield like that wouldn’t help them here. As he poured every bit of energy he had into his bubble of rohw, he was vaguely aware of Rindu turning his head sharply in Sam’s direction. He wasn’t sure, because his vision was starting to blur, but he thought he saw the Zouy smile slightly and nod his head. He immediately felt an infusion of more energy. It was Rindu feeding his own rohw into Sam, bolstering him and strengthening him. A few seconds later, he felt another burst of energy from Nalia, not so strong as from her father, but still significant. With their energy combined, Sam pushed harder, forcing his body to not only act as a conduit for the rohw from the other two, but burrowing into his own body and extracting every bit of energy he could steal from himself. It reminded him of the pulmonary function testing he used to have to take for work. The purpose was to find out how much air could be pushed from the lungs to determine if he could safely wear a respirator while working. He had to blow into a tube, a big burst at first, but then a sustained exhalation for ten seconds. After two or three seconds, it required him to tighten up his

stomach muscles and push air from his lungs that didn’t seem to be there, forcing the last tiny bit of it from his body. It was uncomfortable, even painful. This was worse. It literally felt as if he was pouring his own life into the shield he was creating. After an eternity, the rumbling died and the world became silent. Not the silence he experienced shortly before. Not the silence of the land holding its breath. It was the silence of the tomb, of death, the complete lack of sound that he imagined only occurred when one was buried alive. The party waited, silent as their surroundings, for five seconds. Five of the longest seconds of Sam’s life. Throughout those five seconds that lasted a hundred years each, he continued to force himself to push outward with his rohw. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and darkness started to close in from the edges of his vision. He knew if he continued to exert himself for much longer, he would pass out. After the five seconds, he tried to gradually release the pressure he was exerting, but instead, his concentration shattered and his aura-shield simply disintegrated. Staggering, he thought he would be crushed instantly. He had given it his best try, but it just hadn’t been enough. He waited for his death. Another five seconds passed, and then ten. He was dizzy, had somehow fallen to the ground, but

he was alive. He hadn’t been crushed. Why? Nalia was next to him, her arms around him. Had she caught him when he fell? He couldn’t remember. Things were hazy, dream-like. He couldn’t seem to think clearly. “Wha…?” he forced out through a throat that seemed ill-suited for speech. He cleared it weakly, causing the spots and stars in front of him to dance madly about and his head to spin. “What happened? Are we still alive?” Nalia hugged him to her chest. “Yes, Sam, we are still alive. Thanks to you.” “Sam,” another voice said, a man’s voice. “Sam,” it said again and someone came into his view. Rindu, that was his name. Master Rindu. “Sam, are you well? Are you injured in some way?” As the monk asked him, he was running his hands over Sam, especially his head. He must have been trying to detect any rohw blockages or damage within Sam’s body. “Fascinating,” Rindu said, and then everything went black.

CHAPTER 25

I

t started with a pinprick of light and a blurry world, gradually widening into a fuzzy field of vision that came into focus with agonizing slowness. Sam shook his head slowly, trying to cast off the shroud of confusion that covered him. “Did I pass out?” he asked hoarsely. Nalia passed him a waterskin and he drank. “You did,” she said to him. “How do you feel?” He handed the waterskin back to her and rubbed his temples. “Like a giant leech sucked all the energy from me…and then I was hit by a truck.” Rindu stepped into view. “Are you well, Sam?” He held up two fingers. “How many fingers do I have?” Sam smirked. “You have ten, or eight along

with two thumbs, if you want to mince words.” The Zouy nodded and his mouth twitched into one of his not-smiles. “Good.” Rindu grew more serious. “Sam, what made you think to do what you did? I have never heard of such a thing.” It suddenly all came back to him. The avalanche, the snow piling up, his use of the rohw. He jerked and looked up toward the sky. There was no sky. Instead, there was solid white several feet above his head. Snow. It was packed tightly, by the looks of it, but it was snow. In fact, as he looked around, he saw that they were in a bubble of air no more than fifteen feet in diameter and only eight or nine feet high. There was no break in the barrier around them, no door, window, or hole. “Oh, that,” Sam said, looking at the monk. “I heard of some devices on my world, these airbag things, that not only can help keep someone so they ‘float’ near the surface of an avalanche, but they can also create a space to breathe if snow settles around you. I figured that making at bubble around us would do the same thing. I wasn’t sure if it would work, though. I didn’t know if I had enough power.” “That was very cleverly done,” Rindu said. “You saved all our lives with your quick-thinking and your rohw abilities. Even if I had thought to do

the same, I would not have had the power to do so. It is very difficult to project that much rohw outward and to keep it in place while thousands of pounds of ice and snow are heaped upon it. I do not believe I have ever seen such a show of sheer rohw power as what you have done.” Sam felt his face heat, which was good, because it felt like a layer of ice was forming on him as he breathed. “I felt you and Nalia add your energy to mine when I was about to fail. We all cooperated to do it.” He looked toward the hard-packed snow he was sitting on. “Still, it felt like something happened when I pushed harder at the end. When I saw that even with all three of us, it wouldn’t be enough, I pulled every bit of rohw from my body, and it almost felt like something in me broke.” “Yes,” Rindu said. “I noticed that. We must discuss it later and perhaps we will come to understand it. I have sensed no injury in you…” His gaze shifted to the ice walls for a moment, and he looked as if he would say something else, but he changed the subject. “We must decide what to do now. We will run out of air to breathe eventually. We should leave this sanctuary now that the movement outside has stopped.” Emerius spoke for the first time since the avalanche. “Easy. Sam can just teleport us to Whitehall. Or Ix can.” Sam saw Ix nodding her head behind the hunter.

“No,” Sam said. Emerius frowned. “What do you mean no? Do you plan on setting up a summer home here in this bubble?” Sam was still rubbing his temples to soothe his muzzy head. “If we teleport out of here, then when we continue tomorrow, we’ll have to start over again at yesterday’s stopping point. We’ll have wasted a day of travel. It won’t do much good to memorize this place. I’m not going to teleport us back to this cave tomorrow. No, we have to get out first, then find a suitable location, and then we can go back home.” The light of understanding entered Emerius’s eyes, and Ix nodded that she realized what he was saying was true also. “Oh,” the big man said. “I guess you’re right about that. So what are we going to do? There could be ten feet of snow on top of us. Twenty. Maybe more.” “Maybe Ix could go to Whitehall and get some shovels so we can dig our way out?” Sam suggested. “If there was one of those traps around, it was probably destroyed in the avalanche.” “I could do that,” the assassin said. “I could help, also,” Rindu added. “I can use the rohw to generate heat to bore a hole in the snow. It would be too exhausting to melt a great quantity of snow, but a little help as we dig is possible.”

“Yes,” Sam said. “That’s a great idea. Both of them. Ix, can you go get shovels? Rindu, Nalia, and I will work on softening the snow while you do that.” “I’m on it,” Ix said, and without further conversation disappeared. “I’ll never get used to how quickly she can do that,” Emerius said. Sam looked at where the assassin had been scant seconds before. “Yeah, me either.” He got to his feet and went to the edge of the open area. Remembering the lay of the land before the avalanche occurred, he picked out a spot just to the side of the boulders that made up part of the wall of their ice cave. “I think this will be our best bet,” he said to Rindu. “I’m not sure how much strength I have left for this, though.” “Do not worry, Sam,” the monk said, putting his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “I will do this. You should rest.” Sam didn’t like sitting around idly, but he acquiesced and sat down to watch Rindu work. The monk prepared himself by taking a low stance, much like the one he used when preparing to break bricks or stone. He breathed in deeply through his nose, causing a slight whistling noise because of its shape. As he exhaled slowly, Sam could see rohw swirl around him, being pulled from

the surroundings, cascading across his body and concentrating on his hands. To Sam’s rohwsensitive sight, his hands glowed red like metal in a forge fire. Instead of projecting it forcefully or striking something as he did when breaking objects, Rindu merely moved his hands toward the wall of the snow cave they were in. There were currents, like waves of heat, flowing out of his hands into the ice. It began to melt, slowly at first and then faster as the heat built up. By the time Ix returned with some shovels and a couple of pick axes, Rindu had made a dent in the wall more than a foot deep. Seeing the assassin, he relaxed, allowing his shoulders to slump. Sam could only imagine how tired the Zouy must be from drawing in and using that much energy. Ix handed a pick to Emerius and held out a pick and a shovel for Nalia, who took the other pick. The assassin gripped the shovel that was in her other hand and Togo Cairn grabbed the last shovel. “Well, let’s get started,” she said. “This pile of snow is not going to drill a hole in itself.” Sam was able to help a little after a time. When the four found a particularly dense or icy part of the wall, they would allow Sam or Rindu to melt it partially so they could get through it. Both Sam and the Zouy were tired from their exertions, but Sam thought that maybe he had it a little easier because

his staff so effectively channeled his rohw. Using it as a conduit, making the tip glow with heat was not a problem. With all of them combining their effort, it still took over an hour to finally bore through the wall of the snow shelter and emerge into the daylight. The entire area was changed. Not only was snow piled high—their shelter walls were at least ten feet thick from the accumulation of snow—but the force of the avalanche had uprooted trees and toppled fair-sized rocks, and there were even a few glimpses of fur here and there, animals that had not escaped nature’s wrath. It was a sobering reminder of how close they had come to death themselves. Using their snowshoes to climb to a relatively clear area, they sat down in the snow and ice and waited as Sam learned the location and then immediately transported them all back to Whitehall. As he did, he saw Ix smack her forehead with her palm. “I could have teleported outside the snow with Sam so he could learn the area,” she said to Emerius. The next day they were back on their skis, heading north. Sam felt no lingering effects of his unprecedented use of the rohw once he was able to eat and get some sleep. Lahim Chode had given them several drawings, landmarks that they would use to navigate the

treacherous mountains in what was the Canadian Rockies in Telani. The first of these drawings was of two sharp peaks, thrust upward as if to punch holes in the sky. They were similar, but not identical, and they guarded the way to a high crossing through the mountain range, or so Lahim Chode said. Two days after the avalanche, they saw the mountains. “Did Lahim Chode name these peaks?” Nalia asked. “No,” Sam said. “He just drew the picture and told us to go between them. There’s no doubt, though, that these are the mountains he was talking about.” Sam held the picture up and compared it to what he was seeing. “He is very good at drawing. It looks exactly the same. He obviously viewed this.” The picture could have been a photograph. They spent the better part of the day getting through the mountains to a flat area, almost a plateau. “This is the crossing he told you about,” Togo Cairn said matter-of-factly. “Has to be. It seems to stretch off to the northwest. Looks like fairly easy traveling, especially with the skis. The snow is dryer here than farther south.” It was true, and they made good time. In fact, they reached the next landmark before they ran out of daylight. It, too, was easily identifiable. The river, which had been their constant companion and

primary means of navigation, split, one part going due north and the other wandering off to the northeast. They followed the northeastern branch. After returning to Whitehall to rest, they were out the next morning, skis shushing through the pristine wilderness. The crossing afforded them beautiful views of the surrounding mountains and the valleys beneath them. With fresh snow that had fallen the previous night, they followed the obvious path that snaked its way through the high, rocky peaks until Sam spotted the next landmark, two massive mountains they were to travel between. The river they had been following turned south, and Sam bade it goodbye. He almost felt as if it was a friend after so long together. Knowing they were in the correct location, they followed another gentle valley to the northeast until the flatlands spread out before them. They were nearing the end of their journey to the last artifact, and Sam was getting more and more anxious. They traveled until it was too dark to see, too dark to travel safely in unknown territory, and they went back to their base of operations once again. Once they found the last of the landmarks, another river traveling to the southeast, they followed the obvious curve of the land between the forbidding mountain peaks on either side, keeping near the river. Finally, they went east until another mountain rose up directly in front of them. They

traversed the lowland around it until they found the lake. The party looked at the body of water they had come to find. They knew it was the right one. It matched Lahim Chode’s drawing as well as the other landmarks had. “It doesn’t look like much of a lake,” Emerius said. “We’re only looking at the end of it,” Sam said. “Supposedly, it stretches on for more than ten miles.” He looked at the water. “What I want to know is why it is not frozen like every other lake we’ve seen for the last week. We’re a lot farther north than we were before, and every body of water we’ve come across is still frozen. There’s barely even any snowmelt yet.” “You are observant, Sam,” Rindu said. “I was wondering the same thing. In fact, I can feel the remnants of some power, though not the rohw. It is difficult to describe.” “I don’t like the sound of that,” Ix said. “I’m sure if some power regularly kept the lake from freezing, it would have been investigated. It’s not the normal condition, obviously. Something must have happened.” Sam looked out over the part of the lake they could see. There was a fair-sized area directly north of where they stood. It could have been a mediumsized lake on its own, hemmed in by hills and

sharp-peaked mountains. “Lahim drew a map,” he said, showing it to the others. “It curves around to the east. It’s much bigger than it looks from here.” He could see now that it actually wandered off to his right as he looked across the section he thought was the entire lake. “Where is the artifact?” Emerius asked. “It’s five or six miles around that bend there,” Sam said. “Rindu, can you sense it from here?” “I cannot,” the Zouy said. “I do sense something, but perhaps it is the power that melted the ice on the lake.” The party stood looking out at the lake, probably in disbelief that they were finally here, as Sam was. He shook his head to break the spell. “Okay, I guess I should go to Whitehall and get the canoes. We should get started as soon as possible.” He sat on the ground and learned the area. It was quick work to go back to the fortress, retrieve the canoes, and return. Within minutes, they launched onto the water, paddling toward the stone monoliths directly across from where they started. They passed a family of mountain goats as they went. The big ram stood proudly on a rock outcropping near the water, looking at the party as if challenging them. The others were making their way around the lake, a few bending to drink. Sam

smiled at the two kids as they capered and chased each other around their mother. He saw Nalia watching them, too, a smile on her face. Sam figured that everyone loved to see baby animals playing, but then he looked at Emerius. The big hunter was staring at the animals, face stern and eyes hard. He wondered what the man was thinking. His own smile slipped a little as he thought of their task. They continued to paddle across the lake, Sam taking the lead. It took over two hours to get to where Lahim Chode told them the artifact would be found. He had even drawn the entrance. Sam held the paper up and compared it to the landscape. On the north side of the lake, a mountain made of bare stone rose up into the sky. There was snow covering parts of it, though it was obvious that some had fallen off in avalanches, baring the gray rock beneath. Over the years, parts of the stone had broken off, falling down toward the water. It was all piled up in front of the mountain, almost reaching the edge of the lake, except for one area where it appeared that it had been forcefully cleared by some power. Sam looked at the others. “I guess that’s the place. Lahim’s drawing shows the entrance there, but it doesn’t show it like that. I’m afraid Chetra Dal may have already been here.” “Maybe he didn’t find the artifact,” Ix said

hopefully. “Yeah, or maybe he’s still in there looking,” Emerius added. That earned him a glare from the assassin. “What? He could be. That would be better than him having already gotten it and leaving.” Ix nodded, reluctantly agreeing with him. “There is but one way to find out,” Rindu said. They beached their canoes, dragged them up onto the soil, and picked up their weapons. With a shrug, Sam headed toward the hole in the side of the rock, and the others followed. As they passed through the opening, Rindu spoke up. “Sam, I am sensing that strange kind of energy again. It feels like the energy that Ayim Rasaad used, the awkum. I fear that it confirms Chetra Dal was in fact here. I believe now that it may have been he who taught the use of it to Ayim Rasaad.” “Well, we beat her, so we can beat him, too,” Sam said. Rindu’s face became sour for a moment, as if he had heard something distasteful. They were only twenty feet into the tunnel when they saw the first body. It was a man, a soldier. He was lying face down, a jagged hole in his back. He was obviously dead. Emerius knelt next to the corpse and inspected the wound. “It looks like something big was rammed through him, something the size of a tree

branch. It had to have been sharp, though, to go through him completely like that. Either that or it was shoved with such force that it didn’t need to be sharp.” “Is it Dal’s soldier?” Ix asked. “I’m sure it is,” Sam said. “All the clues point to him having been here.” He felt like the sun had suddenly gone out. His despondence seemed like it would swallow him whole. They continued, finding other bodies, some with holes in them like the first and others that had been torn apart. “What could have done this?” Sam asked no one in particular. “It was whatever guardian was present to protect the artifact,” Rindu said. “We saw similar things at the first artifact in Gromarisa. That protector was a rock creature. Perhaps this one is similar.” “Maybe it killed Dal and we can get the artifact ourselves,” Emerius suggested. Maybe they killed each other.” “Perhaps,” the Zouy said. The caverns seemed to go on for miles, but the side passages were smaller. The party stayed to the main, larger passageway, and soon they stepped into a wide chamber. There were bodies strewn about, more than they had seen at one time up to this point. Some soldiers were torn completely apart

and others had only one wound, but all were dead. Strangely, the entire room was wet, as if it had been flooded. Water dripped from the clothes of the corpses, the floor, and parts of the walls. In some of the little depressions, there were standing puddles of water. Sam wasn’t sure what it signified, but he noted the mystery in his mind. The cavern was roughly round, about a hundred feet in diameter, with a ceiling that was too high to be seen. There were not many marks from chisels or picks, but instead looked like the entire thing had been scooped out with a giant spoon, leaving relatively smooth walls and a floor only slightly rougher. In the center was a stone pedestal like they’d seen before, looking as if it had grown up from the floor and was part of it. On top of the pedestal was a perfect impression of a large tuning fork. Nothing rested in the depression. “Damn!” Emerius spat. “Dal got the last artifact,” Sam said despondently, his legs going weak and buckling. He slid to the floor. “That means he has all three. He has won.” “Do not be so quick to admit defeat, Sam,” Rindu said. “As it is said in your world, ‘It is not over until the overweight woman warbles.’” Sam didn’t have the energy to correct him.

CHAPTER 26

C

hetra Dal sat heavily in his cushioned seat. That was the one thing about aging that bothered him the most: the constant aches. He could handle not being as spry any longer, not having the strength or endurance he used to have, but the aching, that was the worst. He sighed as he slumped in the chair, but then straightened as he looked toward the other two in the room. He didn’t want to show weakness around these two. “I have obtained the last of the artifacts,” he said. “I now have all three.” “Then we have won,” Tingai said, smug in his opinion. “Not yet.” The look on Tingai’s face slipped off, replaced with one of confusion. “You have all three artifacts, the goal we have been striving for all this time.

What else is there to do?” Chetra Dal sighed. “These items are not simple tools, to be picked up and used by anyone. They utilize a power that no one has mastered in thousands of years. I have come closest, but even I cannot simply gather them together and use them with expert skill. I must commune with them, learn them and how to use them as one. And they must learn me as well.” “Learn you?” Vahi said. “You speak as if they’re alive.” “In a sense,” Dal said, “they are. They are alive with power, and for one to use that power, there must be a connection. That connection is not created quickly. It will take two or three weeks of work to commune fully with the items. I will start immediately.” The other two silently nodded. Tingai bit his lower lip as if wondering if it was safe to comment further. He finally decided to do so. “What are we to do while you commune?” “Continue your preparations for the attack on Whitehall. The army should reach the fortress soon, but your work in creating your perfect soldiers is not complete yet. Continue with that. When I am ready, I will use the bell and teleport us all to our final confrontation. To the seat of the new government. To Whitehall.” Tingai nodded again. “I’ll get to it, then.” He

left the room, casting a wondering glance at the bhor as he did so, almost as if he regretted leaving the assassin to speak alone with Dal. “And what of me?” Vahi asked. “You will remain here, close,” Chetra Dal said. “When we go to the final battle, I want you near me. There may be tasks suited to your skills. In the meantime, do as you like. If your people mourn, then do so in your way, over the loss of your brethren.” “My mourning for my race is done. We are not a sentimental people. I will take the time to train and rest and prepare for the opportunity to repay those who put an end to the bhorgabir. I will return in three weeks.” “Very well,” Chetra Dal said. He shifted his attention to the bag on the floor in front of him. The three artifacts were in there. He would rest for a short time to prepare himself, and then he would begin communing with the objects. It was several minutes before he realized that Vahi had not left. The bhor stood stone-still and silent, as if waiting for something. “What is it, Vahi?” The bhor’s over-large eyes locked onto Dal’s. “What happened at the site of the last artifact? You left with four hundred soldiers, but less than a hundred returned with you. Half that.” “Ah, yes,” the awkum master said. “It was not

wholly unexpected, but there were surprises. Yes, there were definitely surprises. I suppose I can tell the tale. Sit, have some tea, and I will tell you.”

I T HAD BEEN A LONG , arduous journey. Chetra Dal was not as young as he used to be, and his old bones complained constantly at the rigors of their travel. The terrain was wild and rugged, too much so for him to ride in a cart or wagon. He had to ride his manu bird, something that did not agree with his aged body, which was sore the entire time. The awkum master had to hand it to this Sam. The idea of traveling during the day and then teleporting back to his home each day to sleep in a bed was a good one, one Chetra Dal stole with unabashed enthusiasm. If it hadn’t been for soaking in a bath each night and sleeping in his own bed, he was not sure he would have been able to make the trip. He would learn their finishing location each day, as his spies had told him Sam did, and then he could use the bell to teleport there the next morning to start their travel fresh. It took a month to get to the final artifact, Bruqil the tuning fork. He was occupied with his own travels and so did not receive word on how the forces he had sent out had fared in stopping his

adversaries. There were groups that had set traps along their route and groups that monitored the traps to check for their activation. There were some wandering units seeking the enemies out in conventional fashion, trying to find them and kill them militarily. And there were the bhorgabir. They were the best chance to eliminate the opposition to Chetra Dal’s plans. He communicated with Vahi using pigeons, as the travel exhausted him each day and he did not want to waste his precious energy teleporting more than once. Instead, he focused on getting closer and closer to the artifact he sought. The other issues would work themselves out in time. Bruqil was the most important thing at this point. When Dal and his party finally made it to the shore of the nameless lake he had been searching for, he let out a sigh of relief. He had arrived before Rindu and his allies. All he had to do was to retrieve the artifact and then teleport back to Mwantgeray. The lake was still frozen over. It was spring, in the month of Tid-Hud, but so far north the thawing had not started yet. It was just as well. Traveling over the ice would be easier than using boats to get to his destination. He could sense the strange energy of the artifact somewhere to the northeast. It was not the rohw, nor was it the awkum precisely, but another

type of energy, perhaps a melding of the two. He recognized it from his dealings with the other two artifacts, but it was still awkward and strange to him. Still, he could follow it right to where Bruqil was resting. It was midday by the time they arrived at the lake. Chetra Dal considered going back to his fortress and starting off the next morning, but then decided he would push on until he was at the very gate of the artifact’s resting place before stopping for the day. He had no doubt that it would be better to start actually searching the hiding place of the artifact in the morning, with a full night’s rest behind him and a full day of light ahead of him. He wasn’t sure what safeguards had been left to protect Bruqil, but he would not underestimate them. Dal and his forces had marched over the lake much like they had been marching over solid ground. Near sunset, they arrived at the location where the awkum master sensed the artifact within. It was a large stone hill, maybe large enough to be called a mountain, right at the edge of the water. He wondered why those who hid the artifact would choose this location. The other two artifacts had been placed where there were recognizable landmarks. Gromarisa was unique, as was Iboghan, but this area, Nawrpul? It made no sense. He did not even understand why the area was so named.

Nawrpul in Ancient Kasmali meant “fire fog.” There were too many things he did not know. Chetra Dal did not like it when he did not know something. The mountain had most likely changed during the years the artifact was interred there. Scree piles had accumulated, leaning up against the sharply pitched sides of the gray, unforgiving rock. Somewhere underneath all the rubble and soil was the doorway he sought. It would be quite an undertaking to get through it all. He sighed. He would not be entering the Bruqil’s hiding place the next day. It would take at least an entire day to excavate all the obstructions to get to the doorway itself. Another delay. Would it be enough to allow his adversaries to catch up with him? He realized as the question formed in his mind that he expected Rindu and the others to survive all that he had arrayed against them, expected them to survive and to carry on with their quest of foiling his attempt at gaining the last of the artifacts. That was an interesting thought. Not for the first time, Chetra Dal regretted not taking the chance to finish them off while he was in Iboghan, unknown and unseen by them. But there was no use in secondguessing the past. He could only carry on. As he ruminated, the sun sank deeper in the sky, dipping below the mountains in the west, the mountains he had passed to come to this place. A

mist had begun to form, perhaps a condition of the last of the sun’s rays making the snow and ice turn to vapor and the cooling temperatures causing it to condense. He watched the orb as it disappeared inch by inch, his gaze locked on the reds and oranges it cast up into the sky in front of it. Just before it ended its journey for the day, a flash of red traveled across the sky, ricocheted off the snow-covered peaks nearby, and bounced through the valley in which the lake lay. It illuminated the rapidly growing mist, lighting it up as if it was ablaze. He heard some of the soldiers gasp, others emit exclamations. It looked like the surface of the lake itself carried flames. It lasted for a handful of seconds, and then it was gone as the shadow of the mountains engulfed them. Fire fog indeed. That was one mystery solved, in any case. Chetra Dal quickly learned the area he was in so he could use Azgo to return the next day, and then gathered his forces and returned to Mwantgeray. It took the better part of two days to clear the scree from before the doorway. It was a difficult task, made no less so by the nature of the rubble. The ramp of the obstructions had built up over centuries from parts of the mountain flaking off in the constant heating and cooling cycle of the seasons. As new rock fell, it slid down on top of the

older material and then in turn was covered with even newer pebbles and soil. As they cleared away the bottom of the pile, material from above continued to slide down. It was tedious, hard labor. The awkum master was able to help the effort, to a certain extent. He could use powerful blasts of his energy to clear away some of the more stubborn parts of the pile, but he was not able to transport it away from the area. He would occasionally phase parts of the rubble out so the soldiers could move the lighter material more easily, but it still took manual labor from his soldiers. By shovels, buckets, and by hand—for the larger rocks—they cleared the area, inch by painstaking inch. When he thought about it, Chetra Dal realized how truly extraordinary it was that they only took two days. Of course, he used all the soldiers he had been traveling with and all the rest still in his fortress to do so. They worked day and night, him teleporting in new workers to relieve those already exhausted by the work. He would have to think of a suitable reward for their hard work. Midmorning on the third day, he stood in front of the solid stone of the mountain, a thirty-foot wide path cleared up to where he sensed the door to Bruqil’s hiding place. He looked toward the west, half expecting to see his enemies rushing toward where he stood, but there was nothing but the flat surface of the frozen lake, punctuated by

snow drifts that had accumulated there. He looked at his commander, all the troops in ranks behind him. The man stiffened to attention. Chetra Dal nodded to him and the man saluted, fist to chest. They were ready. The awkum master stepped up to the wall, waving his hands to find the exact location of the door. He could feel it, as if it was calling him. He stopped, hands mere inches from the cold rock. This was it. The final artifact would be his, and then he could continue with his plan for Gythe, his plan to transform the entire world to what it should be. He closed his eyes and concentrated his energy on the doorway ahead. It took a moment to find the correct frequency, the proper vibration that was the key to unlocking the portal. When he did, he projected a precise pulse of energy toward the stone wall, and a section of it disappeared, revealing a dark tunnel that seemed to go to the heart of Gythe itself. He did not even have time to turn toward his commander before the first of the creatures hurtled out of the opening at him.

CHAPTER 27

M

aster Chetra Dal first started training in combat at the tender age of five years old. Throughout his life, he had continued training, both in physical combat and in the use of energy, first the rohw and then the awkum. Thus when he sensed movement through the doorway he just opened, he was able to evade as well as buffet the creature with his energy, causing it to slide past him instead of harming him. The commander of his forces was not so lucky. The man was standing twenty feet away from Dal, but he may have just as well been standing right next to him. With a flash of blue-white in the morning light, whatever it was that came from inside the mountain closed the distance and thrust one of its appendages into the commander. As it went through him, he gave a grunt and slumped.

The thing had pulled its limb back to allow the head of Dal’s forces to drop to the ground. But it was already moving onto its next target. Chetra Dal was finally able to lock his gaze on the creature as it moved through the ranks of men, killing them indiscriminately. It was roughly manshaped, with two legs and two arms, even something that could have been a head. It seemed to be made entirely of ice. As it moved—more quickly than any man the awkum master had ever seen—it made a crunching, slushing sound. The soldiers, well-trained, had regained their composure after the initial surprise and had drawn their weapons. It didn’t seem to matter. The ice creature waded through them, jabbing its arms through their bodies, impaling them and instantly ending their lives. When one of the fighters tried to strike it with a weapon, it would either slither around the blow or it would simply absorb it. The weapon would sink into whichever part of the body was struck, as if melting through it, and then emerge from the other side, leaving the creature unharmed. It was clear Dal had to take a hand. He leapt toward the creature, as if to do battle with it hand-to-hand. It was a feint, of course. He had stopped fighting physically decades ago. He trained and maintained his fitness, but he was eighty-seven years old, after all, and didn’t desire or need to engage in such rudimentary combat.

Instead, he used his presence as a distraction. The ice monster, sensing that this was the greater foe, turned to engage Dal. It clashed its arms together, throwing off ice and snow, and charged. Chetra Dal calmly raised his hand, projected a strong burst of awkum, and blew the creature apart. Its pieces sprayed the soldiers close by, but no one complained. Four men had died in little more than a few heartbeats. A hush came upon the ranks, whereas they had been shouting rallying cries just seconds before. “Lieutenant Garan,” Chetra Dal said, brushing ice from his robes. “You are now the commander of my forces here. Congratulations on your promotion. Get the men together. We are going inside.” A tall, lanky soldier with dark hair with just a touch of gray in it stepped forward and saluted. “Yes, Master Dal.” He turned to the soldiers under his command. “Form up. We’re going inside. Weapons at the ready.” Dal nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. Was that the sole guardian for the artifact? If so, he was disappointed in the foresight of the ones who hid Bruqil. He wasn’t sure what guardian there had been for Orum, but Ayim Rasaad had told him of the first guardian, the rock creature watching over Azgo. This ice creature he just destroyed seemed too weak to be the sole guardian. Perhaps the

hiders had not counted on someone of his power. It mattered little. He would go inside and see if there was anything else that confronted him. He was sure he was up to the task. He had seen many things, done many things in his life. Nothing would stop him from achieving the dream he had been pursuing for decades. Nothing would stop him from getting the artifact that would help make that dream a reality. The new commander directed his soldiers to enter the doorway, equipped with torches and weapons in clenched fists. He would let them go first. He had long ago given up wanting to lead gloriously in battle. He saw as he entered the tunnel that the torches were not needed. Light—from where exactly, he did not know—suffused the place, a pale blue glow that was more than adequate to see by. He was going to command the torches to be snuffed out, but some of the soldiers carried them as if they were talismans, so he let it go. Let them take comfort in whatever they could. The stone passageway itself seemed to be water-carved, smooth without marks from cuts by tools. Water-carved, but level as if designed for easy traveling. How was it created, Dal wondered. He felt some echo of power, but could not place it. All the years, all the decades, he had studied the rohw and then the awkum, and in the last few

months he had encountered types of energy he had never known existed. Oh, to have just another decade or two of life to try to unlock the secrets of these new powers. They had only gone a few hundred yards when the tunnel split into three identical passages. The soldiers scouting ahead had stopped to wait for him, wanting to know what they should do. As he stepped up to them, three more of the ice creatures came from one of the tunnels and started cutting through the men and women like they were made of paper. One of the monsters was particularly brutal. It rammed both its arms through its victims and then ripped the appendages outward, literally tearing its enemy apart. The combination of jagged edges and strength as it rent through flesh was terrible to watch. Chetra Dal coolly got within range of the beasts and with well-placed pulses of energy, blew them apart as he had with the one they had encountered at the opening. The creature that had been tearing its victims apart resisted his attacks, chunks flying off but not exploding as easily as the others, until the awkum master got close enough almost to touch it, then it shattered with the force of his awkum burst. So, thought Dal, it was not just the one. And that one was not even the strongest. Twelve more soldiers had been killed. They left

the bodies there—as well as those they had carried in from the entrance—and moved on. There would be others, Chetra Dal had no doubt. He moved up to the front of the soldiers, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He could feel the unique energy of the artifact. More correctly, he could feel the hole in the rohw around the artifact, the camouflage that the hiders had used to keep rohw-sensitive searchers from finding it. The absence of rohw seemed to be coming from the left passageway, the one from which the three creatures had come. He knew that the tunnels probably twisted and turned, but they would follow this one. It was a place to start. The remaining members of the force moved slowly through the tunnels, Chetra Dal in the lead. They encountered few side passages of insignificant size. Dal felt the artifact somewhere ahead, so perhaps they had chosen the correct branch. Some of the ice monsters chanced upon them occasionally, typically attacking the party from the side passages after the awkum master had already passed. He wondered if it was coincidence, or if the creatures were showing intelligence or cunning. There had been no mass attack, so it could have just been happenstance. They had seen no organized effort to eradicate the intruders. Dal’s forces were being whittled down, slowly but surely. When the bulk of his soldiers were

attacked from the side or the rear, he lost several people before he was able to get to the attackers to eliminate them. Nothing his forces did would harm the icy foes. Even using torches was only a temporary measure. Parts of the creatures would melt, but then the water would flow as if by their own will, refreezing the way it had been seconds before. It was like flies constantly biting at them and gradually wearing them down. By the time Dal realized that their passage was not the correct one —it dead-ended into a solid wall—the soldiers were frazzled and jittery, jumping at every sound or shadow. The force—less than three hundred strong now because of their losses—had to turn around and go back to the junction with the three split passages. This time, Dal chose the center one. He didn’t have a sense of which of the two would lead to the artifact—how could he when they twisted so—but he chose that one because it was next in line and he had a fifty-fifty chance of being correct. He huffed at wasting so many hours already in search of Bruqil and resented how many lives had been snuffed out in the false passage. It was more than another hour until Chetra Dal got evidence that the passageway they had taken was the correct one. The tunnel widened out into a circular cavern, more than a hundred feet in diameter with a ceiling too high to be seen in the

strange blue glow that permeated the entire cave system. It had been a hard-fought journey to get there. The attacks from the side passages were more frequent, and the numbers of ice creatures greater than in the first tunnel, leading Dal to believe that they were on the right track. By the time they got to the chamber, their number was down to barely two hundred soldiers, and Dal was starting to feel fatigue from rushing to destroy the monsters before they killed even more of his forces. The chamber was unadorned, no stalagmites thrusting up from the level floor and no stalactites descending from above. The sole feature of the cavern was a pedestal in the center, looking as if it had grown from the floor and was part of it. Resting on it was a glint of metal. When Chetra Dal looked at it more carefully, he saw that it was a tuning fork, half again as long as his hand and half as wide. The cold metal glinted in the subdued blue of the cave’s light. It was Bruqil, the last artifact. Standing just to the side of the pedestal was the largest of the ice creatures they had seen yet. It was at least fifteen feet tall and its eyes—ice chips that glittered with some kind of internal light—were fixed on Chetra Dal alone, as if all the others were insignificant insects. The awkum master figured that was exactly what they were to this powerful creature. The thirty or so smaller ice monsters, of the same varieties he had been destroying all day,

were not so selective in their gazes. Their eyes pointed directly forward as they stood in ranks behind the larger creature, focused on everything and on nothing. Dal stopped forty feet from the ice king. His forces stopped their march behind him. He could hear muttering, quiet cursing, even a few whispered prayers. The men couldn’t be blamed for that, he figured. They had seen the ease with which these monsters had been killing their fellows all day. He wasn’t sure he would survive this confrontation, let alone be able to protect his remaining soldiers. There was no discernible signal that Chetra Dal could see or hear, but as one, the smaller creatures rushed to attack. He had to give credit to the new commander and to most of the soldiers. They readied their weapons and stood their ground. Only two dozen or so fled. The former Zouyim master spun and began to dish out energy pulses as if he was dealing cards in the card game Glirim. For every creature he destroyed, however, many of his men were killed by those remaining. It would not be long until all his soldiers were dead and he would have to face the remaining ice monsters alone. His mind whirled as he tried to figure out another option, but he could not. Even escape would not be possible without the loss of all his forces and his eventual engulfment by his enemies. So he continued to blast his foes to

pieces, hoping he had the strength to persevere until they were all gone. Then the ice king entered the battle.

CHAPTER 28

T

he largest of the ice creatures had been watching, waiting patiently, for a full minute as his minions attacked, killed, and were destroyed. Chetra Dal caught a few glimpses of his adversary during the fight, and he did not like the intelligence he saw in those hard, icy eyes. When it moved, it was with lightning speed. It did not bother with the soldiers but went straight for Dal himself, recognizing him as the most dangerous foe. Jabbing with its sharp, icy arms, it came at him in a rush, to the exclusion of all else going on around it. Dal dodged the arms and the legs that swept out to cut his own out from under him. Barely. The creature was so fast, and Dal was so old. One mistake would kill him. He had to battle on his own terms, not the creature’s.

Ignoring the screams of his men and the smaller ice monsters causing them, he aimed both hands at the ice king and blasted it with all the energy he could muster. It was a combination of rohw and awkum, power enough to blow a hole through most castle walls. It pushed the monster back a few inches with no discernible damage. Chetra Dal realized he was in a great amount of trouble. The creature swiped its massive icy arms at Dal, and the former Zouyim monk evaded the blows, but barely. He was tired from fighting the lesser creatures all day. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to stay out of reach of those deadly appendages. As he dodged, others were left in the path of the attack. The hardened ice, sharp at the edges, cut cleanly through two soldiers as they were trying to defend themselves against one of the smaller foes. Yes, he would have to think of something quickly, or they would all be destroyed. Chetra Dal retreated with all the speed he had. Though the ice king had targeted him, it delayed for a few seconds here or there to kill some of Dal’s soldiers unlucky enough to be in its path. That gave the awkum master a few precious seconds to think. He used them well. What weapons did he have at his disposal? He was no match for his enemy physically. His rohw and awkum powers seemed to barely faze the beast, at least when used as a blunt force weapon. He

might be able to pinpoint a strike, put an edge on it, so to speak, to try to cut into the icy body of the monster, but he rejected that idea as soon as it came to him. The lesser ice creatures could heal damage to themselves, so he was sure this one could as well. He could use his energy to generate heat as well as a powerful thrust. That might damage his foe. To generate that much heat while projecting his energy out for a strike was risky, though. He would be using so much energy that if it didn’t work, he might be too weak or just a little too slow to evade the next attack. That option might work as a last resort, but there had to be a better alternative. Think, Chetra, think, he berated himself. He dove out of the way of yet another attack by those massive ice arms, rolling to his feet to continue his evasion. As he completed his roll, he felt the awkward shape of his backpack making his roll haphazard and sloppy. He recalled that he had the first two artifacts, Azgo the bell and Orum the drum, secured within. Of course! His mind shifted. Within his pack was the artifact that would allow him to teleport instantly to his fortress, or even to the location outside that he had memorized. But what good would that do? Would he come back with more troops? He supposed he could, but he wasn’t sure that would

help with the ice king. At least he would be alive to figure something else out, though. Dal ducked behind one of the few remaining soldiers to escape the larger creature, which had gotten too close to him. He had to do something now, or he would be killed. Pulling his pack off while retreating farther toward the opening of the room, he reached in for the bell, but the drum was on top of it. It filled the pack to such a degree that he would have to take it out completely to get to Azgo. Cursing under his breath, he extracted it with numb fingers. Fear was starting to set in, causing him to be clumsy. He had to get to that bell… Instinct alone saved the awkum master as his body moved to the side, just out of reach of a downward strike by the ice king, one that made both ice and stone chips spray from the floor where the collision occurred. The strike was too close. The next one would be Dal’s death. With no other alternative, a crazy idea came into Chetra Dal’s head. Snatching one of the drum’s strikers from its holder on the side of the cylinder, he focused his mind, held Orum toward his adversary, and struck down hard on the taut surface with the head of the striker. What he saw gave him hope. A wave of power, almost palpable, shot out from the drum. It caught the huge ice creature up

and threw it ten feet to the nearest wall, where its dense body cracked some of the stone there. It shook its head like it was stunned. That was it, Dal realized. Not the bell, but the drum. Why had he not thought of that? Despite the battle—actually, it was more of a slaughter—raging around him and the ice king starting to regain its senses and to move away from the wall, Chetra Dal sat on the floor in a crosslegged posture. He rested the drum in his lap and removed the other striker from its holder. The ice king was coming at him, beginning to show its normal speed. A few of the smaller creatures had noticed him and were heading toward him as well. Dal fixed in his mind what he planned to accomplish. His body began to glow softly, the intensity growing with each second. The larger creature and the smaller ones would reach him in a few more seconds. When they did, there was no way he would be able to dodge their attacks. He would be instantly killed. He had to hurry, but he had to remain calm as well. Dal closed his eyes to the distractions. His heat, his energy, was all encompassing. He was almost ready. Almost. The monsters were nearly at arm’s reach. They raised their limbs to strike as the ice king cocked its right appendage to deliver a vicious stab. Dal could

feel it in his aura. Almost, Dal was almost ready. He visualized his actions, made a connection between his rohw, his awkum, the heat inherent in the energy itself, and the drum Orum. The strikes came at him. In another half second, his body would be torn apart from several different directions. His plans, and his life, would be at an end. With everything in place mentally, Chetra Dal struck down hard with both strikers, contacting the tight leather head of the drum. A hollow but thunderous boom echoed in the cavern as a nearly invisible, red-tinged wave of force exploded outward from the drum in all directions. The effects were instantaneous and surprising, even to Dal himself. Though the creatures around him were caught in the torrent and dashed to pieces as it projected outwards, it did not seem to affect the few humans left alive or the bodies that were not. The combination of the heat and the pure concussive force of the drum caused every ice creature within sight to disintegrate into water that was instantly turned to vapor by the energy attack. Quiet settled over the cavern, broken only by the moans of the few injured soldiers still alive. Most who had been attacked had been killed, so the quiet hung like a pall over everything. Chetra Dal

slumped, hands still clutching the drum’s strikers. Lifting his heavy head, he surveyed the scene. He had maybe thirty soldiers left of the force with which he entered the cavern. Surprisingly, his new commander was one of the living, though he appeared to be injured. Half his left arm had been torn off. By the looks of it, it was caused by a glancing blow from one of the creatures. How he had survived this long was a puzzle, but Dal knew that in battles, sometimes pure dumb luck was as important as skill. The man was already cauterizing the wound with a torch he had picked up. He bit back a scream as his flesh seared. He would need attention, as some of the others would. The chamber looked to have been submerged in water. Everything in it, including all the living and the dead, were soaking wet. Whatever he had done with Orum had not only disintegrated the ice monsters, but had melted them completely as well. He had no doubt they were well and truly gone. Getting to his feet with a grunt, Chetra Dal walked slowly to the pedestal. Despite the water, the tuning fork had not moved from its resting place. He stepped up to it, throwing out his senses to detect any traps. He found none. Maybe the hiders of the artifacts believed the creatures to be enough protection. He agreed with them. The awkum master reached out and picked up

Bruqil. As expected, nothing happened. The artifact was surprisingly light for its appearance. It was probably eight inches long and less than three inches wide at its widest point. The metal gleamed in the blue light of the cavern. He had expected it to feel solid and heavy. It did not. When he picked it up, it hummed softly. Dal had the urge to strike it against its pedestal so he could hear its sound, but resisted. He would have to study the object first, try to understand its power, before using it. An accident with a powerful item could ruin everything. After taking out the bell Azgo, he slipped the tuning fork into his pack and then pushed Orum on top of it. He had all three artifacts now. The first part of his plans was done. It was time to move onto the next. “Commander Garan, have your second-incommand get the troops left alive into the center of the room. We will be leaving.” The man’s pale face looked to Chetra Dal. It had a clammy look and he was sweating profusely. Yes, this one needed a healer quickly or he would die. He nodded and then picked out one of the remaining men and said, weakly, “See to it.” The other man saluted and started chivvying the others to move where directed. Dal went to the commander and waved his hand over the cauterized wound while touching

focus points on the ear, jaw, and the side of the neck with his other hand. The blood and fluid leaking from the jagged wound slowed and the pained look on the commander’s face eased up a little. It didn’t heal the man of his injury, but it made it a little more tolerable. He had removed some of the pain and had infused the wound itself with rohw to allow it to start knitting itself. The awkum was worthless for healing. Its very nature was more suited to causing injury than healing it. Still, the rohw sufficed. By the time he had finished with the commander’s wound, the other soldiers were gathered where he needed them. Most of those left were uninjured. Perhaps they ran or were just lucky, but they lived and the others did not, so he could not argue with their methods. The commander muttered a weak “Thank you,” and Dal nodded to him. “When we get back to Mwantgeray, those of you who are uninjured will immediately take the injured to the healers.” Most of the men snapped to attention and saluted, those who were physically able. Using the bell artifact—he had practiced enough with it to use it now without thought—he and all the soldiers left alive disappeared from the chamber and instantly appeared in a familiar courtyard. As he had directed, the able-bodied soldiers

picked up the wounded and carried them off to the healers. Within minutes, Chetra Dal stood alone, bell in hand and the other two artifacts in the pack on his back. He let out a breath. It was a near thing, but he was ready to move onto the next part of his plan. As he walked slowly toward the main keep building, he wondered if Vahi and his bhor had been able to eliminate his foes. It would be unfortunate if all of his adversaries were killed, but if they could not defeat their attackers, perhaps they were insufficient as disciples in any case. Ayim Rasaad would have to be replaced, that was clear, but as to who would be his new apprentice, he had no idea and no expectations. For probably the hundredth time since he had made the choice, he wondered if he should have tried to kill Rindu and the others in the cave at Iboghan. As always, he shrugged and told himself that arguing with past decisions was counterproductive. He shuffled toward his rooms, artifacts in tow.

CHAPTER 29

W

hen Sam, with the others, returned to the teleportation area in front of the stables at Whitehall, he immediately noticed that something was different. Looking out across the bailey, he saw movement. People ran to and fro, and other people hurried along the walls. He’d never seen anyone on the battlements like that. What was going on? He looked to Rindu and Nalia. They both had blank expressions on their faces, hers a little closer to confusion than his stony appearance. Emerius raised an eyebrow, and Ix’s head swiveled as she tried to take in the scene. Togo Cairn moved his head around as if he was looking for some sense in all the movement. “What’s going on?” Sam asked the empty air. “We’re under siege,” a voice said from behind

him as one of the stable hands took the manu’s reins. “An army showed up a few hours ago. A big one, so I hear.” “I want to check out the army.” Sam headed for the walls. The others fell in step behind him as he took the closest set of enclosed stairs to the top. The stairs zigzagged back and forth inside the tower. Halfway up, Sam wished they had taken one of the many sets of exposed stairs so he could have seen something other than white stone. The stairs finally opened up onto the walkway, affording a view of the sky and the lands surrounding the fortress. Sam squinted at the light reflecting off the stone after being in the dimly lit stairwell. He remembered these walkways. He had come onto them from the other side, from the face of the wall itself, when he, Rindu, and Nalia were infiltrating the fortress to rescue Dr. Walt and to try to get the information he needed to go home. It seemed like years ago. The causeway along the battlements was wide, more than fifteen feet. The crenels of the parapet came up to just above Sam’s waist, and the merlons between rose to the middle of his chest. He chose a place in front of one of the crenels and looked out at the buffer zone below. There was a cleared area, a buffer zone, surrounding the entire fortress. Surrounding all but the main pathway, where the road cut through the

forest met the cliffs. The ring of unbroken flat plain was designed to keep a force from sneaking up on the walls, Sam had been told. His mind spun off into thinking about how the buffer area had no plants at all growing on it, not even the smallest weed. The builders of the fortress must have used some kind of power to keep it from being overgrown. But that was unimportant right now. In the barren area between the fortress cliffs and the Undead Forest, he saw what everyone had been dreading since Lahim Chode had viewed and told them about it. An army, thousands strong, spread throughout the previously empty buffer zone. They were arrayed near the pathway up the cliffs, just to the north. Sam had seen its like in movies, but seeing it in real life was nearly overwhelming. The thought that every individual waiting down there wanted to kill him and his friends was sobering and more than a little scary, despite the high walls and cliffs protecting them. The horde sprawled out over a quarter-mile of the treeless area. From the distance, Sam couldn’t pick out individuals. The entire thing was one squirming mass. Some tiny shapes were bigger than the others, either manu or—more likely—some type of mutant. There were tents and thick lines that looked like latrines that had been dug, and smoke drifted up from some of the fires that had

been built and started early. It was a disorganized mess, it seemed to Sam, but what did he expect? These were not welltrained and well-disciplined troops. It was a ragtag collection of bandits-turned-soldier, a few legitimate soldiers, and mutated creatures whose only aim was to kill and maim. He wasn’t sure if that observation made him feel more comfortable or less. “They arrived this morning,” Danaba Kemp said, stepping up to Sam, “and began immediately setting up camp, staying together near the path and the switchbacks. They’ll try using the walkway that winds up to the main gate of the fortress, I think. Trying to scale the cliffs and then the walls while we kill them at our leisure doesn’t seem like sound strategy. Then again, who knows what mutated creatures will try?” Sam turned to the former Red Fang. “How many are there? I’m no good at estimating numbers by looking at a group like that.” “Approximately seven thousand. Chode was right, it seems.” “Yeah,” Sam said, “lucky us. How many soldiers do we have?” Danaba Kemp ran his fingers through his hair, pausing to tug on it before dropping his hands. “Not quite a thousand.” “Oh.”

“However,” the general said, “we have me, and I am worth at least several hundred.” His smile recalled how he used to be—brash and lively— before he shouldered the stress and responsibility of being the head of the forces of the new government. “And you are worth at least four or five soldiers.” He winked. “Hey, I’ve been practicing. I’m worth at least six soldiers. Maybe two or three mutants,” Sam responded, laughing. It was nice to break the tension. “What are your plans, Danaba Kemp?” Rindu asked seriously. “How will we meet this challenge?” Kemp looked back out at the army arrayed before them. “I will wait to see what they’ll do. These cliffs, these walls, they’re a tough nut to crack. You know that as well as anyone. We’ll wait them out and see what happens. When they take action, we’ll counter it…if we can. There’s no chance of starving us out. We have food enough for almost a year, water forever, and if worse comes to worst, Sam here can teleport anything we need in from some of the major cities. We’ll be fine.” Sam wished Danaba’s expression didn’t give lie to what he had just said. “So, tell me the good news,” the general continued. “Tell me you got the artifact so we don’t have to worry about some guy with god-like powers

coming in and destroying us all while we stand watching.” “Um,” Sam hedged, “about that. We were too late. Chetra Dal got the last of the artifacts. He has all three now.” “Lovely.” “Yeah,” Sam said. “We need to get to Dr. Walt and see if we can figure out what to do. I’m not giving up yet. Chetra Dal is not down there with the artifacts, so maybe we can still come up with something.” Kemp slapped Sam on the shoulder, regaining some of the boisterous attitude he used to display so readily. “That’s the spirit. I’ll come with you. There’s no need for me to stand here and watch them make dinner.” The group went down one of the exposed stairways—much more pleasant than the inside stairwell—and headed for the keep. Togo Cairn took his leave to go to the barracks. Surely there was something else they could do. It couldn’t be hopeless, could it? As the group entered the keep itself, Danaba took the lead. “Dr. Walt will be in one of the audience chambers. He’s been stuck in there with the delegates for the new government all day. Let’s see if he has any hair left.” The man grinned, but it looked to Sam like a predator baring its teeth before striking.

Fifteen minutes of walking through corridors later, they approached a set of huge double wooden doors with metal bindings. Even though the doors were closed, shouting voices poured into the hall. Sam heard the sound several corridors before they actually reached their destination. He looked at Danaba Kemp, and the general shrugged as he reached for the door handle. If Sam thought it was loud in the hall, he was shocked at the level of sound as Danaba swung one of the doors open. There must have been thirty people in the room, though it could hold many more than that. And every one of them seemed to be shouting at once. Dr. Walt was on the far side of the chamber, up on a dais, standing behind a podium. His normally flyaway hair was positively Einsteinian, and his eyes darted frantically around the room. When they locked on Sam, the look on Dr. Walt’s face reminded Sam of news footage showing people rescued from floods or other disasters. He breathed out and his shoulders slumped. As Sam and the others stepped inside, the room became quiet as if on cue. All eyes watched him walk up to Dr. Walt at the podium. Soft whispers started swirling in the still air. Sam heard bits of it: “Sam Sharp,” “Hero of Gythe,” “will take care of things now,” and other such nonsense. When Sam looked behind him to say something to Nalia, he realized that the others had stayed in the

doorway. He was on his own. “Dr. Walt,” he said, as if there weren’t almost three dozen people looking at him. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to talk about something, if you have a few minutes.” “Yes, yes, of course, Sam,” he said, breathlessly as if he had been exercising. “We were just discussing what needs to be done about the army outside the walls.” “What are you going to do about it, Sam?” a man’s voice said from the mass of people. “Yeah,” another said, “we’re trapped here. What will happen to us?” Several other people spoke up, also, but what they said was drowned out by the cacophony of the voices. Sam raised his hand and the sound died down. “I have just returned to Whitehall to find the army outside. I am as shocked as you are, though we knew it was on its way here. That is one of the things I need to talk to Dr. Walt about. “Danaba has the matter well in hand right now. The army has not attacked, nor will they be able to anytime soon. I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re in a fortress. With the cliffs and the walls, I don’t expect it’ll ever come to a battle.” “Sure, but what about us,” said another voice he didn’t recognize—this one a woman’s. “We’re trapped here.”

“Well,” Sam said, “that’s easy enough to remedy. If you would like to leave, I can teleport you somewhere else.” The voices started up again, not shouting for attention, but discussing what Sam had just said amongst themselves. He wasn’t sure why, but Sam was quickly becoming irritated. It was probably the loss of the last artifact and his fatigue, but his temper flared. “I would have thought,” Sam said, cutting through the noise of the discussions, breaking them into pieces to restore the silence, “that as leaders of your respective communities, you would want to stay and work out how to protect not just yourselves but your constituents as well. If you would like to flee, though, see me after I have talked to Dr. Walt, and I will help you run back to your homes. While they still stand. Those of you who will act as respectable representatives may remain here, safe in the fortress, while the future of Gythe is decided.” Sam paused. The silence was now absolute. No whispers, no discussion, not even the sound of feet shifting or papers shuffling interrupted the calm, quiet air. “There are important things happening, and you all decide it’s the right time to squabble? I told Dr. Walt that I would not be part of this government, not because I don’t believe in it, but because I

don’t feel worthy to take on such an honorable task. Seeing what I just witnessed, I have not changed my mind, but my reason. I don’t want to be part of a group of children whining about not getting their way.” He looked around the room, making eye contact with many of the delegates, some he had met and others he had not. “Now if you can stop arguing for a few minutes while I discuss with Dr. Walt matters that have to do with our future, I will be more than happy to help you run away to your homes afterward.” He scanned the audience one more time, caught Dr. Walt’s eye and jerked his head toward the door, and walked out of the room. Dr. Walt followed him, and as they crossed the threshold, he expected to hear the room burst out in sound again. It didn’t. He took a final look back, and they were all looking at him, some of them with reddening cheeks. He closed the door. Sam let out an exasperated breath and ran his fingers through his hair. Looking around, he saw his friends all looking at him. Emerius’s mouth was open. “What?” he said. “Sam, that was…” Dr. Walt said, “that was fantastic. I think you gave them something to think about.” “Think about?” Sam said incredulously. “My temper got the best of me and I said things I’ll

probably regret. It was all true, but I probably shouldn’t have said any of it. They just had me so frustrated. We’re trying to save the world, and they want to go home to their mommies. Ugh.” Danaba Kemp slapped Sam on the back. “You did exactly the right thing, Sam, and you are one of the few who can probably get away with it. Those delegates have been acting like spoiled children since they arrived. It’s about time they got spanked.” Sam didn’t understand it. Rindu was regarding him with some expression he didn’t recognize. Was that pride? Nalia smiled openly at him. Ix had a smirk on her face. Dr. Walt looked more relaxed. They were all crazy. “Anyway, none of that matters,” Sam said. “Dr. Walt, we need to figure out our next step. Chetra Dal got the last artifact. Is there anything we can do now? Is there any way to combat the artifacts when they’re used all together?” “He obtained the third item, then?” Dr. Walt said. “That is unfortunate, truly. I did find one bit of information that may be of use. I reread one of the books that had a reference to all three of the artifacts. It was conjecture, but it is something. “You see, the artifacts were never used all together. There was never the need to do so. They were used—before they were all hidden away—a few times individually, but never together, as far as

I can tell. “Anyway, one passage proposes that because of the unique situation of taking three powerful items endowed with different qualities and using them together as one, there would need to be some acclimatization. In other words, the user would have to learn how to use them as one and, maybe more importantly, the artifacts would have to learn to work with the user. He would have to spend time communing with the items in order to use them effectively. The author proposes that this might take a few weeks to accomplish. Once the user had communed with the trio, however, he could not imagine any power being sufficient to stand against them.” Rindu rubbed his chin. “Yes, that does sound reasonable. Perhaps the author is correct. We do not know if Chetra Dal knows the area here well enough to teleport here, but if he did, he probably would have come already to finish us if he could use the artifacts efficiently. Perhaps we still have time yet.” “So what you’re saying,” Sam said, “is that Chetra Dal probably needs some time until he’s able to even use the artifacts?” “That is what I think, yes,” Dr. Walt said. “So if we can get to him before he finishes communing with the three items, we might be able to stop him before he gets too powerful.”

“Yes.” It might be grasping at straws, but at least it was something. It gave them at least a possible way to succeed. “Then that’s what we’ll do,” Sam said. “We’ll go and tear the items right out of his hands.” He thought a moment and then sighed. “But we don’t know where he is, do we?” The others shared his disappointment, sagging as if deflated. “Would the seer know anything about it?” Emerius asked. “We can hope,” Dr. Walt said. “I’ve been so busy with the delegates that I haven’t had time to talk to Lahim lately. We should go ask him. The people in the room can wait a little longer for me to return.” The procession made their way through the keep to Lahim Chode’s room. Any they passed goggled at the large and varied group as it hurried down the corridor as if the fate of the world hung on them getting to their destination. None of the observers could have known that it really did. After knocking and hearing Lahim’s “come,” they all crowded into the small chamber. “Uh-oh,” the seer said. “What has happened, and what information do you seek? Does it have to do with the army?” Dr. Walt stepped up and took the lead. “Lahim, we did not get the last artifact before Chetra Dal.

He now has all three.” “That is not good news at all, but I haven’t seen anything about it.” “There’s more. We believe, from reading some of the records, that he has to commune with the items to use them, a process that may take a few weeks. Sam and the others will try to find him and stop him before he can use their full power. We need to know where he is.” “Where he is?” Lahim Chode said, his pitch rising as he spoke. “I’m afraid I haven’t had any viewings that will tell me his location.” “But Lahim,” Sam said, “you have viewed him. Was there any detail we might be able to use to find him, anything at all?” The viewer put his hand to his chin and thought about it. “No, Sam, I don’t think there was. The viewing was inside, and I couldn’t see anything out of the windows.” Sam’s heart dropped again. This seemed a day for disappointment. A thought popped into his mind. “What about the army? You saw several visions of them, including their travel as they were coming here. We have to assume that the army was assembled at Chetra Dal’s headquarters. It’s the logical place. Is there anything in those viewings that you could use to point us toward where his hideout might be?” “Hmmmm,” the seer said. “Let me think.” He

closed his eyes as if visualizing something. It was a good two minutes before he opened his eyes again. “Yes, I can see their path and maybe extrapolate where they came from. I saw a massive stone fortress in the background when the army was being built and training. It is east of where the last artifact was, and south. I can’t be more specific than that. Judging by the path of the army, it should be almost directly east of Whitehall. I can’t begin to guess the distance, though. I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.” Sam was silent, pondering what Lahim had said. He wondered if it would be enough. “Sam.” Nalia’s voice broke the silence. “Did not Ru Wilkes, the commander of those Collectors, say that they encountered a massive fortress far to the east in their travels, one which they thought of trying to enter but decided to avoid?” “That’s right!” Sam said. He turned to Danaba Kemp. “Danaba, could you bring Ru Wilkes here to compare notes with Lahim? Maybe we’re getting a lucky break and can actually piece the information together.” “I know exactly where he’s at,” the general said. “I’ll send a runner right now.” He turned and left the room, breaking into a trot as soon as he cleared the doorway. They waited for half an hour until Ru Wilkes arrived. Danaba had sent a runner and then

returned to the room, so everyone chatted quietly until the ex-Collector showed up. “Wilkes,” Danaba said. “General,” Wilkes said, snapping to attention and saluting, fist to chest. Danaba returned the salute, looking uncomfortable and even slightly embarrassed by it. “We would like to ask you about something you may have seen in your travels. A massive fortress hundreds of miles east of here, sitting in the middle of flat stretches of land with flat-topped hills scattered about.” Ru Wilkes and Lahim discussed the details of what each of them had seen, and by the time they finished, everyone agreed they were talking about the same location. “That’s great,” Sam said. “Now all we have to do is get to it.” “We don’t have much time,” Ix put in. “You’re going to need me to skim to get there.” Sam looked at her. He hadn’t really thought of that yet. He could get them part of the way there, from one of their ending locations when they were heading toward the last artifact, but if they were to make it in time, they would need Ix’s special ability. “I don’t know. Those traps—” “They’re not expecting us to go to his home. There won’t be traps.” “Maybe,” Sam said. “If there are, though, it

could mean your death.” “Listen,” the assassin said. “We don’t have much choice. If he communes with those artifacts, from what I understand, we’re all dead or enslaved anyway. I could just teleport away if it comes to him attacking the fortress, but I will not abandon any of you. So either I take the risk of being trapped now or of dying with everyone else when Chetra Dal attacks. I say we take the chance. I don’t believe they would ever expect us to go there.” “She is correct, Sam,” Rindu said. “There is risk, but it is small. It appears to be our only means of getting there in time.” They were right, Sam knew. “Okay. I don’t like it, but you’re right. We need to get there in time. Ru Wilkes, will you accompany us? You have been there, and you will be able to tell us if we’re on track and when we are getting close.” The big commander eyed Danaba Kemp. Once his leader nodded, he said, “Of course. I would be happy to assist you.” “It is all settled then,” Dr. Walt said. “We have a plan. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go and tell the delegates that we have matters in hand, at least as well as can be expected.” “Thank you for your help, Dr. Walt,” Sam said. “We’ll leave in the morning, so if you need to talk to us, we’ll be in the keep until then. Sleeping.”

The group broke up after a few minutes of planning. Sam, Ru Wilkes, Nalia, and Ix would spend the day traveling, for as many days as necessary, and then when they got to the fortress, Sam would bring the rest of the party. As he headed off to bed, Sam hoped it would be enough, hoped they would be in time. He didn’t fall asleep for a long time, thinking about the fate of the world in his hands. If he was truly a hero of Gythe, he would have to prove it in this.

CHAPTER 30

S

am and the others met for breakfast before dawn at one of the dining halls. While they were eating, a bedraggled-looking Danaba Kemp came in for a bite to eat. He looked as if he had been up all night. He sat down heavily at the table with them. “Danaba,” Sam said. “You look like you didn’t sleep all night. Are you okay?” The general turned his bleary eyes to Sam. “They started attacking last night to test our defenses, starting an hour or so after I saw you last. So, yeah, I haven’t slept at all.” “They attacked?” Nalia said. “Why were we not woken? What was the outcome?” Danaba put his hands up as if trying to calm someone down. “It’s no worry. We didn’t wake you up because we were able to handle it. They sent

some of the more agile of the creatures bounding up the path to try the walls. Some of the mutations seemed not to have bones, so while we were occupied with shooting arrows at the ones scaling the walls, the others were squeezing through the grate in the portcullis. They didn’t even make it through the gatehouse, though. They may not have had bones, but arrows killed them just like any other creature. It took a lot of arrows, but we handled it.” “That sounds like a waste of soldiers and a waste of surprise,” Sam said. “It seems like they would have wanted to keep those abilities secret until they could use them to their fullest potential.” Danaba looked at Sam like he had just found new respect for him. “You’re exactly right, Sam. Those are my thoughts, too. I wonder if it was a mistake or if they’re trying to manipulate us into something. Maybe they’re taking attention from something else by their ‘mistake.’ I don’t know.” “Danaba Kemp,” Rindu said, “are your soldiers patrolling all of the walls? Are they sure that something is not happening on other parts of the cliffs?” “We’re patrolling and making sure there is no one on the cliffs, walls, or even on the part of the buffer zone nearer the fortress. I don’t like it. Something feels off, so I’ve got them patrolling regularly with four squads that patrol in a random

pattern in case someone is timing the rotation. If there’s something going on, we’ll find it.” “That is good,” Rindu said. “It sounds as if you have the matter under control.” “I expect that we’ll learn more as the days pass,” Kemp said. “If today was any indication, they’re not going to be sitting there waiting for their leader. They’ll test us, taunt us, and try to crack us.” Everyone was silent for a while as they ate. Danaba finished shoveling food into his mouth and stood up. “Well, folks, good luck in your travels. I, for one, am going to bed now that the excitement has died down and I have my captains watching over the keep. I’ll see you this evening when you return.” “Attacked already,” Sam said after Danaba left. “I would have thought they’d wait for Chetra Dal to come with the artifacts. I wonder if they are just distracting us while they implement a plan or if they are testing our defenses to come up with a strategy.” “It will become clear in the days to come,” Rindu said. “The important task for us, however, is to find him and take the artifacts from him. We must leave it to Danaba Kemp to handle the security of the fortress itself.” “Yeah, you’re right,” Sam said. “Speaking of which, we should probably get started.”

Only Sam, Nalia, Ru Wilkes, and Ix would be traveling. Because Ix would be skimming, they had to keep the numbers small. The more jumps Ix could take in a day, the faster they would get to their destination. “You know,” Ix said, “I could just take Ru Wilkes and we could get a lot farther each day. Half the people would mean almost twice the distance I could go before getting tired.” Sam considered it. “I would need to be at the last stopping point each day so I could learn the area.” “Not necessarily. I can teleport to the same location the day after just as easily as you. You would only need to learn the final destination so that you could bring everyone else.” Sam looked at Nalia. She raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t speak. “I won’t feel like I’m useful at all, but it does make sense. I would still want you to come back and get me at the end of each day so I could learn the endpoint location. I may need to know those places for future travel, so I don’t want to miss the opportunity.” “We could do that,” Ix said. Nalia nodded slightly. “Okay, I think that sounds reasonable,” Sam said. “One more thing, though. I think you should take a manu bird and only go far enough in each jump so that Ru can get to you within a day on the bird if you should run

into a trap. I talked with Rindu, and the commander should be able to smash the box to release you if you should be trapped.” “That will make it take more than twice as long as with two,” the assassin said, her brows scrunched up in irritation. “I understand, but we have to take precautions.” “Fine. If we don’t get there in time, you can’t blame me, though.” “I won’t,” Sam said. “There should still be time before he communes with the artifacts.” “We’ll leave right now.” “Great. It will give me a chance to do some other things here at the keep. Thank you, Ix. It’ll be nice to get more distance out of traveling without you becoming so fatigued. I’ll come down to the teleport point around sunset to meet you so you can take me back to the stopping point to learn it.” Ix nodded, and she and Ru Wilkes left to get started. “Well, it looks like we have some extra time we didn’t think we’d have. Maybe I can get some training in. I’d also like to spend some time in the new library, the one we brought back from Kawkibon. Maybe something in there will help us.” As they left the dining hall, Sam felt empty, as if he had somehow lost his purpose. It was reasonable for Ix and the commander to do the traveling, but

he’d been at the forefront of the search for the artifacts and the traveling for so long, it almost felt like a piece of him was missing. Shaking off the feeling, he headed for the library, determined to make a difference in other ways. Sam spent the better part of three hours searching through records in the Kawkibon library. Though it held thousands of books, he decided to peruse the electronic files in the ancient Gythian computers. It still amazed him that he could operate the machines without the use of any external power source, only connecting to it with his rohw and providing the energy it needed that way. However it worked, it was efficient. He didn’t even detect it draining any of his rohw, not like when he had first operated the door to the room. His mind wandered, and he imagined what it might be like to live in Gythe’s golden age. An idea came into his head then, and he decided to try something different. He often compared his experience in his own world with the technological Gythe. He knew that science had taken a different path here, but to keep everything from being unfathomable, he tried to relate it all to what he knew. People loved to share things in his world, they loved to do it with pictures, video, and sound. The people of Gythe couldn’t be all that different than

on his world, could they? He searched for “video” first. It wasn’t as easy as that, of course. He had never heard the word for “video” in Kasmali and didn’t know if there even was one. He tried several different things in his search, finally finding his answer when he used the phrase “moving pictures.” Of course. That was what people called them on Telani when they first came out as entertainment in the theaters. Armed with his newly found Kasmali term, he searched for videos. One of the problems with the computer systems he had found was that they were based on the data stored in the little cylinders that fit into the holes in the computers themselves. He hadn’t found yet how to access some master index to find what information might be on which cylinder. The racks on which the cylinders were stored had labels, but the storage tubes themselves did not. The shelves only had numbers and letters, obviously some sort of cataloguing system, but it was unintelligible to Sam. Despite all this, he found videos on one of the storage units. The clip looked to be an audit of the work done in the research center. The camera followed the auditor as he checked records, interviewed personnel, and wrote up findings. What Sam would have done for a good cat video. He tried other videos on the cylinder he had in

the computer, but they all showed similarly boring research and work topics. Did no one in technological Gythe have any fun? Where were the jokes, where were the videos of people doing stupid things? He would have even settled for videos of scantily-clad women, though with Gythe’s standards of beauty, he thought twice about that. With no other idea, he tried several other storage devices, taking them in order from the closest shelf. He felt guilty, like he was surfing the internet—though this was much more boring than that—but told himself if he could just figure out how the system worked, it would be invaluable for finding any information they might need. And who knew, he might stumble upon something important. As he resolved to stop browsing, he came upon something that tickled his interest. It was a gathering of the researchers at the facility so they could listen to a report by their leader, Magry Adronis. “So you see,” the man said, “using the techniques I have summarized, I believe it is possible to change the actual genetic structure and improve upon nature’s design.” He was a tall man, if the comparison to the others standing near him by the podium were any indication. He was broad-shouldered with long, pale hair. He was wearing the shimmering metallic tunic he also wore in the picture hanging at the

other side of the library. He seemed so familiar to Sam, especially now that he could see the man speak, could watch his gestures. He had so much charisma that sitting and listening to him made Sam anxious to get to work on whatever project was set before him. This man was a leader, through and through. “What is that you are watching, Sam?” Nalia’s voice right next to him made him jump. He really wished she would make more noise. “Oh, it’s just a video I found in this storage cylinder.” “Video.” She sounded the Kasmali words out carefully. “What is that word? I’ve never heard it.” “Oh, it’s the Kasmali term for ‘video,’” he said, using the English word. “I found reference to it in one of the files.” “May I watch it with you?” “Of course,” he said, dragging a chair from a desk next to him up beside him. She sat down and he started the video over. He had only watched thirty seconds or so of it. “He reminds me of you,” she said, smiling at him. He paused the video. “Me?” he said. “Why would he remind you of me? He’s a born leader, he’s charismatic, he exudes power.” “Exactly,” she said. “He reminds me of you. He is more experienced, of course, but if you can find

video from ten years before this one, I am certain he would remind even you of yourself.” Sam looked at her. She was serious. “Really? Do you think I could be a leader like that, someone who can inspire action and make people believe in something?” “You already are, Sam,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “You have but to recognize it yourself. Everyone else does.” They watched the rest of the man’s speech. It seemed to be about a new project they would embark upon. After his presentation, he allowed the audience to ask questions. “That is odd,” Nalia said. “When the others address him, they address him by his first name, Magry. Perhaps their rules of etiquette were different in ancient times. Today, it is very disrespectful to address someone of authority by their first name.” “It’s like that in my world, too,” Sam said, “for the most part. It has relaxed over the last few decades, though. Still, I agree. It does seem strange. Everyone obviously respects him. Maybe he insisted on being called by his first name by his team as a sign that they were close, like a family.” “Yes, perhaps that is it,” Nalia said. “I was to tell you that my father would like to spend some time with you today. You are in need of training, apparently, and he would make sure you receive

it.” “Yeah, I’ve spent too long here as it is. I’ll head over there now. Will you join me?” “Yes, I would enjoy that, I think.” They left the computer room and headed to Rindu’s chambers. When they arrived, the Zouy was at his little desk writing in one of the books he was using to translate the quotes and wisdom from Telani. “Ah, Sam, Nalia, I am glad you are here,” the monk said, cleaning the tip on his pen and setting it down. “It is a good time for me to put aside the pen and work on your training. Please come with me.” Rindu stood and headed out the door, turning left down the corridor. As the three walked, he continued. “Sam, do you recall our lessons on harmonizing yourself with others, with the rohw held by them?” “Yes, Master Rindu,” he said. “How could I forget? I was barely able to utilize it in time for the battle with Ayim Rasaad, but it made all the difference. It turned out that I was making it much harder on myself than necessary.” “Yes. Things in life often are less complicated than we choose to believe. Are you comfortable with harmonic actions now? Are you able to not only work in harmony with others, but also detect and add your own rohw in harmonic frequencies?” Sam eyed the Zouy, wondering if he was being

set up for a story or some lesson. “I am. Since the battle with Rasaad, I have practiced with Nalia and with Torim Jet and Palusa Filk. I think once I experienced what it was like, I stopped holding myself back or blocking myself.” “Good. That is good. But that is not what we will be discussing today.” Sam stopped walking and stared at the monk before realizing he had stopped. He took several quick steps to catch the other two, who had continued to walk on. “A master of the rohw must know the… nuances of the use of the vibrational energy. He must not only be a master of his own energy, but he must be able to meld with and use others’ power. In addition, he must know when to absorb, when to block, and when to deflect rohw, both harmful and not. Do you understand this?” “I, uh, I guess so,” Sam said. “Which of those will we be working on?” The monk had reached their destination, apparently. He stopped at a door and opened it, beckoning the other two in. “We will be working on something else, something related to all of these.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Is this that resonance thing again?” “Ah, you are clever, Sam. Yes, it is ‘that resonance thing’ again. It is very useful, and your training would not be complete without it. I do not

believe you are having the difficulties in applying it as you were with the harmonic energies, but still, more practice would be beneficial.” The room they entered was medium-sized, approximately twenty feet long by maybe fifteen feet wide. Its unadorned stone walls were bare except the one furthest from the door. It had a tapestry of two warriors standing on stumps in wide stances and fighting hand-to-hand. Sam had never seen a scene like it any other place in the fortress, or anywhere else for that matter. He didn’t give the tapestry more than a passing glance, though. What dominated his view, and the room, was a log hanging from a chain attached to the ceiling. The stump was too big around for Sam to put his arms around and still touch his fingers, and it was at least ten feet long. The single chain from the ceiling was attached to four others by a thick ring. The four chains were somehow embedded into the wood—it appeared as if the live tree had grown around the chains before it was cut down. It looked stable, but incredibly heavy. “What is that?” Sam asked. “That is our training tool for this lesson,” Rindu said. Nalia wore a look as if she knew what it would be used for. Sam waited for the master to continue. “As I have described before, resonance is the situation in which a particular vibration is

susceptible to being amplified by other vibrations. In other words, it is when an outside influence can increase the original vibration. Does that make sense to you?” “Yes,” Sam said. “Good. We have discussed it strictly as a function of the rohw and its vibrations, but in order to truly understand it, I want to show you a practical demonstration. Thus our apparatus here. Please push on the log.” Sam did as he was told. He reached out and pushed the log, expecting it would swing easily. He was wrong. It was so heavy, he braced himself, got into a low stance, and pushed for all he was worth, and it still barely moved. “How heavy is this thing?” he said. “Very heavy,” Rindu answered. The log had hardly moved and was swinging ever so slightly, just a few inches in each pass. In less time than Sam thought would be the case, it stopped altogether. “Do you see how difficult it is to move the weight?” Rindu asked. “Yeah, it’s so heavy, it takes a lot of strength to get it going.” “Perhaps you should not be using strength of arms,” Rindu said, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, right,” Sam said, flushing slightly. Nalia giggled.

Standing near the end of the log, Sam dropped into a low, powerful stance. He breathed in deeply, slowly, taking in rohw from his surroundings. As he exhaled, he moved his hands as if pushing something, projecting rohw from his palms toward the log. It swung away from him smoothly to a distance of just over a foot, and then swung back. It continued its motion like a pendulum. He looked to the monk and smiled. “Good,” Rindu said. “Here is where the lesson begins. Using your strength at first, just the power of your arms and your body, make the log swing further than it is swinging now.” Sam was familiar with the technique. It was the same one he used as a child to help his friends on the playground swings. The key was to time the pushes so that they would add energy to the motion already there. If he pushed at the wrong time, it would interrupt the swinging item—the log in this case but his friends on a swing when he was a child —and cause it to slow down instead of speed up. He was always good at timing his pushes, and his friends always swung very high. Nick, his best friend in school, was not as coordinated. Every time he pushed Sam, the swing would stall out or wobble, even throwing Sam off entirely a few times. He went to work. The log was very heavy, so even timing his pushes perfectly, it was difficult to

make it move much further than it already was moving. Over several minutes, though, he did succeed in increasing how far it swung. When it was moving about two feet from its center position with each swing, Rindu motioned for him to stop. “You do that very well,” the monk said. “Your timing adds energy to the log with each swing, making its arc more powerful. Not once did I see you lessen or interrupt the movement.” “I used to do something similar with play equipment when I was a child,” Sam said. “I see. Now, I want you to do the same thing, but with the rohw.” “Okay,” Sam said. He pulled in rohw, felt it warm his hands and his belly. He stood in front of one of the log’s ends in a more natural stance than earlier and timed it. He let it swing toward him and, just as it began to swing away from him, he pushed with his rohw, matching the direction of the swing. It moved a little farther than it had been swinging. He continued this for several cycles. Finally, on the sixth swing, he misjudged the angle just slightly, causing the log to wobble and lose some of its momentum to the sideward direction. “Aha,” Rindu said. “I was wondering if I would have to wait for hours until you made an error. I am glad I did not have to. You are very good at that. You may stop now.” Sam breathed out. He was disappointed that he

had misjudged the push, but he was also proud from Rindu’s compliment. “Did you see what happened?” the Zouy asked him. “Did you see the effects of a slight error in the application of your rohw?” “Yes.” Sam watched as the log settled back into its normal rhythm without the wobble, but it wasn’t swinging as far as it had been. “This is an example of resonance. When your force is applied at a resonant frequency—that is, at a frequency that is complementary to that of the log —it increases the amplitude of the swing. It adds energy to the motion that is already there, making it more powerful. “When, however, the force is misapplied, even slightly, it interrupts the motion of the log and takes energy away because of the conflicting forces. Does this make sense to you?” “It does,” Sam said. “Good. But how do we apply this theory? Is it useful only if we are attacked by large, swinging logs?” Sam laughed. “I hope not. I don’t recall ever being attacked like that, and I don’t expect I will anytime soon.” “Yes, you are correct,” Rindu said. “We must take the concept and apply it to a situation you may face. Nalia, if you would assist me in this?” “Of course, Father.” She stepped up next to

him. “I would like to demonstrate to Sam the way resonance can be used for physical attacks. Please strike me, at a speed that will allow him to see what is happening.” Without hesitation, Nalia’s hand sped toward her father’s head. Face completely emotionless, he threw his own hand up toward the strike, but not in a block or even a classic parry. It matched the trajectory of Nalia’s fist and merged with it. For the briefest of moments, both combatants’ arms were moving in perfect unison, as if they were dancing. Then, Rindu took a half step back, rotated his hips while grasping Nalia’s arm with his own hand, and made a motion that looked like nothing more than a flick of his wrist. Nalia flew ten feet in the air, turned a somersault, and landed safely on the other side of the room. “Again,” Rindu said, and she charged in to try to strike him again. This time, she thrust her foot out in a front kick. Her father barely moved his hand to deflect the kick, slightly match its trajectory and velocity, and then add a little power of his own. The result was Nalia’s leg shooting toward the ceiling, causing her to complete a back flip. She landed lightly on her feet and dropped into a fighting stance. “Good,” Rindu said. “Thank you.”

Turning to Sam, Rindu raised an eyebrow and put his hands in the opposite sleeves of his robe. “What did you see, Sam?” “I didn’t see you use any rohw for those movements,” Sam said. “You are correct. They were purely physical. Tell me not what you did not see but what you saw.” “I saw you redirect her energy and use it against her. It’s like Aikido on Telani. That art does a lot of redirection.” “What you say is correct,” Rindu said. “But that is not all. If I was simply redirecting the force Nalia was using for the strike, I would not have been able to cause the effects I did. She did not punch with enough force to make her entire body fly through the air like that. So, then, what happened?” “I think,” Sam answered, “that you added some of your own energy to cause those effects.” “You are correct,” the monk said. “As with the log earlier, a little of my own force—physical and not the rohw—added to what Nalia had already provided, added up to much more than was originally intended. But my addition had to be precise and correct. It had to be applied exactly where and to what extent was necessary. It had to be resonant with her motions.” Sam was silent, considering.

“Do you see the importance of knowing the qualities of the motion against which you are defending?” Rindu asked. “Yes, I can see it. Just like with me and the log, if you had been slightly off on your angle, your motions would have been a parry, maybe slight redirection, but nothing so spectacular as being able to throw her like that.” “That is the truth,” Rindu said. “So then, the important lesson is to ascertain the precise qualities of the attack and to channel your own force into it in such a way that you not only avoid being struck, but that you add power to counterattack your foe.” “I need to practice that,” Sam said. “It sounds very useful.” “It is indeed,” the monk said. “Even more so with the rohw. For energy attacks, the same principle applies, but the determination of the resonant defense is more difficult. This, too, we must practice.” And so they did. For almost two hours, Rindu and Nalia took turns attacking Sam and demonstrating to him how to use what Sam began to think of as “resonant defense.” It was difficult, and he was tired and slightly beat up by the time they finished, but he felt as if he had learned a valuable new skill. “Thank you for the training,” he said as he saluted Rindu and then Nalia. “I will think on what

I learned and practice it.” They left the room, chatting as they walked through the halls. As they turned at an intersection of corridors, a breathless messenger almost ran into them. “Master Rindu, Sam Sharp, Nalia Wroun,” he said. “We are being attacked. Danaba Kemp sent me to find you. He’s out on the wall.” The three began running for the door to the keep.

CHAPTER 31

T

he commander on watch briefed Danaba Kemp on the situation. It had started like the other attacks, a testing of the response of the defenders. No one really thought there was a chance of a wall breach, with the cliffs and the walls and the only accessible entry point being up the switchbacks, over the draw bridge— which was up—and through the gates and portcullises. There was no practical way for the enemy to even mass together to challenge those behind the walls. Because of this, when large groups of mutants and soldiers made their way up the winding path, the guards didn’t think there was much of a risk. Still, they sent for the general. When he arrived, Danaba Kemp scratched his head. “What are they up to?” he mused aloud. The milling crowd of enemies, several hundred

—possibly more than a thousand—strong, jostled each other on the upper part of the roadway, as if waiting for something. An occasional flight of arrows was loosed, forcing the mob to back out of bowshot range, but the entire thing had the air of a casual dance, not the deadly serious business of war. Finally, as darkness descended, all of the enemy forces raised their weapons and began chanting. It was eerie, the sounds of human voices mixed with some of the mutants’. They continued this for several minutes, the tempo increasing, building on the anticipation that something would happen. Suddenly, a group of about twenty mutated creatures broke free from the crowd, running at full speed toward the chasm in front of the gate house. Danaba called for the archers to take them down as they galloped on all fours like animals toward them. Some of the arrows struck the creatures, but surprisingly few. They were moving fast and their gait was erratic, which made targeting difficult. Kemp watched in fascination as, one by one, the mutants leapt the thirty feet of empty air. While a few of the monsters landed on the ground beside the massive upraised drawbridge, most went straight for the wooden mass. Loud thunks sounded as they hit the hardened wood, making a sound like a hail on planking. It was difficult to see on the other side of the drawbridge,

but Danaba was sure he caught glimpses of some of the creatures—stunned from their collision with the wood—falling to their deaths into the void. The defenders waited, tense and expectant. The chanting had continued its fevered pace, and the attackers waved their weapons in the air, cheering on their fellows. Then the first clawed hand appeared over the top of the bridge. It was soon joined by another, then another, and in no time, no less than a dozen of the hairy, deformed bodies were coming up over the drawbridge and jumping down the other side. Still Danaba didn’t know what their purpose was. The creatures had made it to the plateau, true, but what would they do? There were still the gates and the portcullises to circumvent. “Fire at will,” he said to the archers on the walls. “Pick them off one by one. I’m not sure what they’re doing, but let’s just take them out to be safe.” The archers complied and riddled a few of the leapers with arrows. The creatures were long and sinewy, built for speed, reminding Danaba of pantor he had seen. Their bodies were covered with fur, and their faces, a cruel mixture of human and animal, did seem to have hints of the big cats of Gythe. Many of the arrows bounced harmlessly off them. The ones that stuck were either ignored or brushed away with clawed hands. Only those that struck vital areas—

eyes or throat or the occasional lucky angle into the heart around the sternum and through the ribs— stopped the monsters. They advanced relentlessly. Danaba was surprised when the first one took to the wall itself. The form of its claws seemed able to grasp onto the tiniest crack or bump in the wall and use it as a hold. The ten remaining mutants started climbing, slowly but inexorably, up toward the defenders. The angle at which the archers had to fire became too great for them to hit the climbers, so Danaba ordered the special winches to be used. “Get the harnesses on and the winches ready,” he barked. The men and women jumped to obey. The special archer squadron had trained for such a contingency. Comprised of the best bowusers in the army, there were always several members in any guard detail on duty. There were seven such archers present. The special archers were already wearing leather harnesses strapped tightly to their bodies. Bronze rings were attached securely to the straps, positioned exactly in the center of the wearer’s back. Winches were set on the edge of the walls, their arms going out more than half a dozen feet from the edge. The ropes on the winch had two self-closing hooks—a design suggested by Sam and approved by Dr. Walt—and these snapped onto the

rings on the harness. In this way, the archers could be lowered out over the edge to face directly downward. Three of the special archers were already out, taking their time and firing as accurately as possible directly down onto the climbers. One of the attackers had already been killed. An arrow through its face caused it to peel off the wall, bounce once on the area in front of the gatehouse, and then careen off the cliff walls as it made its way down the two hundred feet to the ground below. Danaba looked out over the milling mass of enemy soldiers on the pathway across the chasm. They still chanted, still looked expectant. What were they thinking? Surely they didn’t believe that any of the climbing mutants would make it over the walls alive to do anything significant. It bothered him. He was afraid they were seeing something he was not. Movement on the rampart fifty feet from him caught his eye. He saw off-white robes swirling as Rindu came up the stairs, Sam and Nalia following him. “Ho there, Danaba Kemp,” Rindu said. “We hear there is trouble on the walls. We offer our service, if it is necessary.” Danaba had almost forgotten that he had a standing order for a messenger to be dispatched

immediately when any attack commenced. If Sam, Nalia, or Rindu were in the keep, they were to be informed of the attack so they could take part in the defense, if needed. The three had requested that it be done. He shook his head, remembering. Apparently they had never experienced sleepless nights from notifications like these. They would soon figure it out. The general greeted the newcomers and quickly explained their situation. As he did so, two more of the climbers were killed, leaving seven to continue their progress upward. As he was explaining, a shadow passed over the walkway just in front of Danaba Kemp. He looked up in time to see a number of winged creatures clearing the wall. They must have come from a direction other than the front gate. Everyone’s attention was riveted on the climbers and the enemies gathered just below them. He watched the first creature, humanoid but with great leathery wings, like those of a bat, soar down toward the ground level, inside the walls. Scanning the sky, he saw five more doing the same thing. “They’re going for the drawbridge controls!” he yelled. “Take those flying things out.” The archers who were not in the harnesses swiveled to fire at the mutants, but the creatures were too fast. Their movements were just like the

bats Danaba used to watch when he was a child, moving instantly in acrobatic ways to catch insects. One or two arrows grazed the creatures, one even going through the membrane of a wing, but for the most part they were ineffective. Sam and the others were already moving, running down the stairs at breakneck speed. The first bat mutant had already landed at the door to the little room housing the controls for the drawbridge. Another touched down next to the building housing the portcullis controls. A third was trying to remove the crossbar on the thick double doors. If something was not done quickly, the walls would actually be breached. If that happened, the force waiting on the pathway might be sufficient on its own to overwhelm the defenders. There was a sound that Danaba Kemp could not place, and then he watched in horror as the drawbridge came crashing down. It was only seconds until the chanting, roiling mass of enemy bodies stormed over the heavy wooden planking toward the gatehouse.

CHAPTER 32

R

indu reached the ground first, with Nalia and Sam mere seconds behind

him. “Go and engage the others,” the monk said. “Do not let them open the doors or raise the portcullis. I will defeat this one.” He was heading for the creature in the drawbridge control room. “I’ll take the portcullis controls,” Sam said as he headed toward the squat, stone block building. Nalia nodded and angled toward the doors where two of the flyers were starting to lift the heavy crossbar from the doors. The door to the portcullis control building was open, the mutant already inside. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw the grating start to shudder and then slowly begin to rise. The spikes on the bottom had not yet cleared the holes in which they were

seated, but it would only be seconds until they did so. He put on a burst of speed and sprinted through the open doorway. As he did so, he spared a glance at the gates and saw that Nalia had reached her enemies there and was engaging them. And then he was in the cramped room. It was a moment before his eyes were able to pick out the dim shape in front of the winch. The sunlight coming in from the doorway illuminated dust motes in the air which he had stirred in his frantic rush. The creature heard his entry and faced him, temporarily leaving off its task to deal with the intruder. Sam immediately broke Ahimiro into two sticks. The confined space would not allow him to use the staff effectively. As he did so, his opponent came more fully into the light. It was almost as tall as he was, humanoid, with wings that were folded up on its back. The tips of the little horns at the bend of the wings poked up over the thing’s shoulders. Its entire body was covered with short, coarse hair, but the leathery skin underneath was visible. The face, still recognizably human, stared at him with big, dark eyes. Apparently the mutation into a bat-like creature did not affect its eyesight. Other than the human face, it looked like a larger version of the bat-creatures he had encountered in the Undead Forest when he came with the others to infiltrate the Gray Fortress all those months ago.

Sharp claws like talons shot out to tear at Sam’s face. He stepped back into the doorway and slapped the arms away with his sticks. He backed up another step, out into the courtyard, hoping the monster would follow him. It did. Sam was relieved. His primary goal was to keep it from lifting the portcullis, and he was succeeding in that. Now he had to keep from getting scratched by those filthy claws. He was sure he’d get some kind of infection from even the slightest scratch, let alone being torn apart if a significant blow landed. In the sunlight, the thing was even uglier. Its too-human face scrunched up in a scowl, and it emitted a high-pitched shriek—almost inaudible— that made Sam’s hair stand on end. Wings flapped in the air behind him, and he barely had time to roll to the side as another of the creatures passed through the space he had just vacated. Coming to his feet, he faced both of them, the newcomer landing next to its fellow. The two enemies rushed in, swiping with both claws. One attacked high, using its wings to lift off the ground and swipe downward while the other remained grounded. Sam ducked low and dipped to the side, under the higher attack while slapping one claw outward with his right stick and delivering a powerful downward diagonal blow to the upper arm of the other clawed appendage coming at him. The owner of the arm screamed inhumanly as the blow

struck. Sam ignored it as he pivoted and circled out of range of both monsters. They came at him again, using the same swiping attacks with their claws. At least they were predictable, Sam thought, as he brushed aside one claw with an outward crescent kick while performing a hard block with both sticks in an X position to stop another claw from reaching him. Turning clockwise, Sam rotated the sticks around the hairy arm trapped within the X, pushing downward and then trapping the wrist while striking as hard as he could on the elbow with his left hand, still gripping the stick. There was a sickening crunch as the creature’s arm broke cleanly. Again, Sam whirled to get out of range as the other mutant swiped at him once more. Sam kept the bat-creature with the injured arm in his peripheral vision as he faced the other opponent. A couple of quick feints with his sticks, and it committed itself to another swinging claw strike. Sam tapped the claw upward to allow it to go over his head, stepped forward with his left foot, and delivered five rapid and powerful strikes. Right stick to the ribs; left stick to the sides of the ribs on the other side; right backhanded strike to the collarbone, breaking it; left horizontal strike to the ear of the creature, stunning it; and finally a powerful overhand strike that came vertically down on the mutant’s head to crush its skull to finish the

battle. All of it was done before the one-armed foe could attack. Sam danced away and spun to face the remaining opponent. He made quick work of his injured foe, batting aside its one good arm and delivering a straight jab with the stick into its chest, projecting his rohw at the point of impact to crush its chest and end its life. Looking around, Sam saw several furry bodies sprawled out across the area in front of the gate. Nalia finished off her fourth enemy, and Rindu was standing patiently with four more lying around him. When he caught Sam’s eye, he nodded and began walking smoothly toward him, as if he was out for a pleasant evening stroll. Neither of the warriors had so much as one drop of sweat on them and were not breathing hard at all. Sam was, and his forehead dripped perspiration. By the time Sam, Nalia, and Rindu returned to the ramparts and Danaba Kemp, the soldiers had cleared the area in front of the gate and raised the drawbridge again. They had used a combination of archers and other soldiers dropping rocks or hot oil onto the invaders. Those of the enemy able to do so quickly retreated across the bridge before others of Danaba’s soldiers used the winch to raise the heavy planking. “Well,” Danaba Kemp said as they returned, “that was unexpected. It’s a good thing you were

here. I don’t think we could have stopped them in time to keep the gates from opening. We would have repelled them, but we would have lost a lot of men to do it.” “I am glad we were here as well,” Rindu said. “I am glad also that we were able to aid you. I am very concerned, however.” “Yeah, me too,” Kemp said. “I didn’t know they had flying creatures. I think they made a mistake in revealing them so soon, but it makes me wonder what else they have out there.” “That is exactly my point,” the Zouy said. “We must be wary. We do not know enough about our enemy to be confident in what he will do.” “I think I may have a solution to that,” Danaba Kemp said. “At least, a partial solution. Chisin Ling has been pestering me to give her the command of a special unit of soldiers that perform clandestine operations. Apparently she learned of such groups that exist in Telani and fell in love with the idea. She has already developed some tactics that are interesting. I think maybe I will give her a chance.” Rindu nodded. “Perhaps we can help her with this. The Zouyim and the Sapsyra are adept at quiet movement as well, and Ix is a master assassin. There may be some guidance we can provide.” “That would be great, thank you. I’ll tell her to come and see you.” Sam spent the next day teleporting the

delegates of the Republic to their homes to check in on their communities. It was tedious and tiring work, but it was necessary, and he was the only one who could do it while Ix traveled each day to find Chetra Dal’s fortress. Nalia accompanied him, which was nice, but there were many other things he would rather have been doing. At sunset, he met Ix and Ru Wilkes at the teleportation point so he could go back with her to learn their last location. When they finally got back to the fortress, he sat down in the dining hall, tired from his efforts. “I think I have taken care of the leaders. While we’re waiting for Ix, we should travel to Kokitura so I can learn the location to teleport the Brothers of the Rohw there. They are itching to go and start construction, but traveling there on foot or by wagon with all their tools and supplies isn’t practical.” “Yes,” Nalia said. “It would be good for you to learn how to teleport there.” “It’s settled, then,” Sam said. “I already know how to teleport to Marybador, so I can take work crews there to let them start work, but we should probably wait until the spring thaws are complete. I don’t think it’s a good idea to try to rebuild your home when the weather is so harsh.” He turned to Ix. “How are things going with your traveling?” Sam asked.

“Same old thing,” Ix replied. “Make several jumps in a day, get too tired to go on, come back here. We’re making good progress, though. We should be there in a few more days. How about you? What’s going on here? I heard some talk about attacks or something…and some kind of flying creatures?” “Yes,” Nalia answered. “It is true. There have been several attacks, and the last one utilized mutant creatures we had never seen before, ones that could fly. They were defeated, but we are concerned that they may have other creatures of which we are unaware.” “That’s not good,” Ix said. “What are we doing about it?” Sam wasn’t listening to what the women were saying. He was thinking about how they were conversing casually, comfortably. It made him want to smile. They were finally being civil to each other. More than civil. They were actually conversing like equals, though not yet like friends. He thought they would get there, though. Eventually. “What are you smiling at?” Nalia asked. Sam replayed the last few seconds in his mind and realized they had stopped talking. Both women were looking at him. The commander was studying his bread. “What?” Sam said, more to stall than because he hadn’t heard.

“Why are you smiling so?” Nalia repeated. He hadn’t realized he had actually smiled. “Oh, nothing really. I was just thinking of something.” “I see,” Nalia said, giving him a look that told him she didn’t see at all, but that when she got him alone, she would not be done with him until she did. “Anyway,” Ix said, “it’ll be soon. I’ll pick you up and bring you there so you can learn the area to teleport us all to Chetra Dal’s fortress. Then we can finish this thing—and him—and be done with it. I think I’m tired of dealing with crazed dictators wanting to rule the world. No offense meant to your uncle.” “Thanks, Ix,” Sam said, “for everything. I’ll be waiting. The most important thing right now is to keep Dal from communing with the artifacts. The sooner we can confront him, the better.” “Agreed,” the assassin said. “Let’s just hope we can take the artifacts away from him. Ayim Rasaad was no slouch, and this is her master we’re talking about. It’s not going to be easy to defeat him.”

CHAPTER 33

N

icole looked up from her seat in the audience chamber. Dr. Walt was still tallying the vote. The method used was simple enough. Each delegate was given two stones, one red and one green. The green stone meant yes and the red no. Has he counted them yet? Sammy sent to her. No, he’s not finished yet, Nicole sent back. It’s very exciting, Max chimed in. The hapaki had been allowed a vote each since they represented different communities. They had both voted yes. Yes, Nicole sent, it is. This will be a historic moment if the resolution passes. It will be the start of the new government, the Republic of Gythe. Dr. Walt and the two other officials for the vote finished their conversation, and the scholar stepped

to the podium. He cleared his throat loudly to get everyone’s attention, but it was unnecessary. They had all been looking at him the entire time. “We have the results of the voting,” he said. “The vote was twenty-seven for the motion and only four against.” He smiled and continued, “The motion is passed. The government known as the Republic of Gythe will be officially formed. We have each had opportunity to read the charter, the constitution if you will, of the Republic, and the vote reflects our approval of that document. Well done, my friends. It is a momentous day despite the turmoil outside our walls. We will now all sign the document.” All the delegates began whispering to each other, some congratulating their fellows with slaps on the back and clasping of arms. Dr. Walt raised his hands to quiet them once more. “Friends, as you come up individually to sign the charter, there is one final task we must complete before we adjourn. We must choose a leader, a First Minister, to head the new government and ensure that it operates in the best interests of not only the constituents of the delegates here but also of all Gythe. We have discussed this before, and I expect that many of you have names ready of those you would nominate. Let us begin.” He turned to one of the officials, the Head

Clerk Dorsin Chelam, and said, “Dorsin, please note the names as they are nominated. We will take any who are nominated and seconded, and then we will vote them down to a mere handful before the final vote.” Raire Gonsh, one of the co-leaders of Patchel’s Folly, raised his hand. When Dr. Walt nodded at him, he said loudly, “I nominate Sam Sharp for First Minister.” Noise broke out all over the audience chamber. Nicole thought most of it sounded like disappointment that the speakers were not able to nominate him first. “I second the nomination,” Georg Santas said, “and at the same time I nominate Dr. Walt for First Minister.” The scholar was nodding as he watched Dorsin writing down Sam’s name on the parchment, but his head snapped up as his own name was mentioned. “No, no,” he said, hands up as if to ward off an attack. “I have had plenty of work already with the formation of the Republic. I’ll not take a leadership role. It belongs to better men than me to handle such tasks. I just want to read my books and do my research.” “I second the nomination of Dr. Walt,” Akila Gonsh said, smiling and shrugging at him. There were eleven names nominated, but two did not receive seconds, and so nine were written

on the parchment. A simple vote, each delegate choosing five names, narrowed it down to the five with the most votes. “Now is the time to decide who will hold the position of First Minister,” Dr. Walt said. “We have five candidates to choose from. They are, in the order they appear on the parchment, Sam Sharp, ahem, Dr. Walt, Rindu Zose, Nalia Wroun, and Fulusin Telanyahu.” The tall, wiry woman who represented the city of Seamouth nodded as Dr. Walt read the last name. “The vote is simple. You each have in front of you a small square of parchment and a pen with inkwell. Please write the name of the candidate you would choose for First Minister and, after blotting and drying the ink, fold the paper in half and hand it to Dorsin here. Once we have all twenty-two votes, we will tally them. As with all the other votes this evening, I have not taken part because I am not actually a representative of any community, only of this fortress. Fulusin, you may vote even though you are a candidate.” The voting only took thirty minutes and then another thirty for the officials to make sure there were only twenty-two votes and to count each and tally them on another piece of parchment. The scholar stepped up to the podium again with the piece of parchment in his hand. He had the look of a man who had just dodged an arrow.

Barely. “We have the results,” he said, and the entire room went silent. “In reverse order, that is, the fifth choice first and the new First Minister last, here are the names. Nalia Wroun, Rindu Zose, Fulusin Telanyahu, Dr. Walt, and Sam Sharp. So, Sam Sharp has been voted the first First Minister of the Republic of Gythe.” As he stepped down from the podium, he whispered just loud enough for Nicole to hear him, “But I don’t know who is going to tell him.” That made her laugh at first, but then she realized that the doctor was probably serious. Sam wouldn’t be happy about this development. She wondered how he would take it. “They did what?” Sam said, incredulous, less than an hour later. “No. Absolutely not. Nope. Not gonna happen. They’ll just have to vote again.” “Calm down, Sam,” Nicole said. “It’s a great honor. You’ll be like George Washington. The first leader of a government that will make the world a better place for all its people.” Sam looked at her as if he didn’t know what species she was. “George Washington? Really? That’s what you’ve got, that I’ll be like George Washington? Come on, mom. That doesn’t help. At all.” “Sam,” Rindu said softly, “it is a great honor, this thing with which they have presented you. Do

not look at it as a punishment. The delegates have expressed their trust in you, their faith that you will lead them effectively.” The younger man stared at the Zouy. “I understand that,” he said. “It’s just ridiculous. They think I’m some kind of hero, and because I’m popular, they want me to lead. They’re not thinking at all of whether or not I’ll do a good job. It’s pure celebrity status that they care about.” He thought for a moment, and then asked, “Master Rindu, if they had offered it to you, would you have accepted? Would you agree to be the First Minister? You were fourth on the list, after all.” “I would not accept,” the monk said. “Zouyim are servants of the people, not leaders.” “But,” Sam pointed out, “the First Minister is supposed to be a servant. It’s in the name. Not the First Leader, the First Minister. I also feel that I should serve the cause of the people, but not in a government position.” Rindu scratched his chin. “I can see your point. Fortunately for me, I was not chosen. You were.” “Yes, but now you understand why I don’t want to accept.” He turned to the scholar, who had been silent after giving Sam the news of his appointment. “Dr. Walt, what is the procedure for declining the appointment? Does it make a difference that I never put my name in to begin with?” “Procedure? For declining?” The older man idly

scratched at his scalp. “There is no procedure. All of this is new. We just developed the procedure for voting on this and other things yesterday. As for your name being put in for you, the agreement was made that anyone could be nominated. The only stipulation was that each candidate had to have someone second the nomination. There is no rule stating that the candidate had to approve or volunteer.” “Okay, then,” Sam said. “If there’s no procedure in place, then it should be as simple as me saying no. I will just politely and respectfully decline. End of story.” Dr. Walt’s eyes darted from Sam to Rindu and then to Nalia and Nicole. They even passed over the three hapaki—Skitter had joined them after the delegate session ended—as if looking for help. “I suppose it could be that easy, procedurally. I would strongly urge you to reconsider, though—” “No,” Sam interrupted. “Please, please, let me finish. I would urge you to reconsider in light of the facts of the situation. We are at war, Sam, with an army right outside our walls.” Sam started to speak, and Dr. Walt raised his hands to forestall it. “I know, you are more aware of that than I. The point is, the delegates are scared. Not only for their own personal safety, but also for their constituents. “Morale is hanging on by a thread, and the

people have put their hopes in you. You—” “Don’t you see,” Sam interrupted again. “I know they’re scared and looking for a hero. Look at who they nominated for the vote. Four of the final five were in the party that defeated the Gray Man. If Skitter could communicate with more than just me and my mother, I’m sure he would have edged out Fulusin Telanyahu. They are scared and want reassurance, and so they want their heroes to lead them. “I plan on doing everything I can to make sure Gythe is safe. So will Rindu and Nalia, and everyone else in this room. There’s no reason to make me the leader of the government. I will do what I need to do. Let them be reassured by that. I’m just the wrong guy for the job.” Dr. Walt took a breath, waited for Sam to continue, and when he didn’t, spoke again. “That is easy for us to see, Sam, and it is very logical. Unfortunately, with an army right outside the walls, they are desperate. I am afraid that if you decline, they will take it as your abandoning them, and the entire project to establish the government will shatter. The delegates will go back to their homes and fend for themselves. I don’t know that we’d be able to bring them back, even if we somehow succeed in defeating Dal and his army.” “When,” Rindu said. “When we defeat this one calling himself Chetra Dal and his army.”

“Of course, of course,” Dr. Walt said. “My apologies. That was what I meant.” “Sam,” Nalia said, “what Dr. Walt says is truth. I have seen disheartened people fall victim to folly before. It is not unusual.” Nicole added, “I heard some of the delegates talking earlier. One of them expressed concern that you might decline. One of the others defended you, saying that you would not abandon us like that. It almost came to blows. There are some who would leave immediately if you told them no. I have no doubt of it.” Sam felt trapped. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think of a way out. He couldn’t see one. “Great. So my choice is either to take part in this farce or to ruin all the work that has been done to create a new government. I don’t like either choice.” Dr. Walt came up to Sam and put his arm on the younger man’s shoulder. “I understand, Sam. It is difficult. I may have a solution, however, though a temporary one.” “Go on.” “Well,” the scholar continued, “you are rather busy with trying to find Dal and defeat him before he can utilize all the artifacts. You are also helping to combat the sorties against the fortress by the army outside. That’s not even to mention the work you have volunteered to do with teleporting the

Brothers of the Rohw and delegates who need to check in on their communities. No one can argue that you have many responsibilities right now. “If you were to accept the appointment but delay taking office until all of these crucial matters are resolved, the delegates would have their First Minister, their fears would be allayed, and you would have more time to think of a way out of your trap. Once the threat of Chetra Dal and his army are taken care of, everyone will be in a much better frame of mind for discussing the issues and thinking through the problem. How does that sound?” Sam looked at the scholar, his mind going through what was just said. It did sound like a solution. It would put off his having to make a decision until he was ready. “That sounds reasonable,” he said, “on one condition.” Dr. Walt’s smile crinkled his face and his eyes lit up. “That’s more like it. Yes, what is your condition?” “That you act as First Minister in my place.” The smile disappeared from the older man’s face.

CHAPTER 34

E

arly the next morning, Sam, Nalia, and Palusa Filk gathered to begin their journey to Kokitura Mountain. “It will finally happen,” Palusa said, the excitement showing on her face. She nearly danced with nervous energy. “We will finally begin to rebuild the Zouyim temple. After all these years.” Sam smiled at her. “We’ll make a start of it, anyway. Construction will have to take second place to the war we’re in the middle of, and to the creation of the new government, but yes, there will be some workers that can be spared to start on the temple. The Brothers of the Rohw have been very assertive in saying they want to get started.” “It is exciting to me as well,” Nalia said between bites. “And it makes me anxious to rebuild the Sapsyra compound at Marybador.”

“Shen Nan says he and the others want to go and settle back on the island, to begin to build homes for themselves as soon as possible, also,” Sam said. “We’re at the beginning of spring now, so it could start soon. I think that project won’t really get started in earnest until after we’ve resolved the war with Chetra Dal, though. None of the remnant of Marybador are experienced in that type of construction.” “Maybe not,” a voice said from the entry to the dining hall, “but I know someone who is, and someone else who can recreate the Sapsyra compound from memory.” Nalia’s head whipped around at the first word, and she was out of her seat and running before the speaker finished. Sam swiveled his head just in time to see her sweep up another woman and crush her in a hug. Beside him, Palusa Filk was beaming. “Regi?” Nalia said, her voice cracking. “It’s really you. You’re alive. I gave up hope all those years ago.” “Heya, Towel-Face,” the other woman said. “They just let you walk around like that, face all uncovered?” Sam was about to say something, to defend Nalia, to call the other woman down, whoever she was, but Nalia just laughed and his mouth snapped shut. “Sometimes,” Nalia said. “Sometimes they

make me stay in my cage.” She was looking into the other woman’s eyes, stroking her long, corn-silk yellow hair. “How, Regi? And why didn’t you find me sooner?” The woman gently pushed Nalia’s shoulders and stepped back. She was slightly shorter than Nalia’s five foot, nine inches and fit looking. In fact, she and Nalia both had perfect physiques, making Sam think that she probably was an athlete or warrior as well. The small movements she made, so fluid and precise, confirmed it. Somehow, though, the other woman’s body was more sensual, with slight differences—a curve or line here or there—that made her so alluring, Sam almost lost track of where he was. Palusa Filk nudged him with an elbow and gave him a raised eyebrow. It wasn’t until his gaze reached her face that the spell was broken. She wasn’t ugly exactly, but she was plain at best. At very best. He studied her face for several seconds to try to figure it out. She was…he thought asymmetrical was probably the best term. It was like her face was crooked, made up of halves of two different people. By Gythe’s definition of beauty, she was probably gorgeous. He shifted his eyes to Nalia’s beautiful face and found her staring at him. For that matter, the other woman was staring at him, too. “Nal,” the woman said, “let me introduce you to the reason. This is Tika.” She stepped to the side.

Behind her stood a little girl, maybe five or six years old. She shared the same blond hair as her mother and some of the same peculiar asymmetry to her face. It was tempered by other features, though, obviously from her father. The man standing behind her with his hands lightly resting on her shoulders looked to be that father. He wasn’t a bad looking man, Sam thought, which meant that he was probably not very attractive by Gythe standards. It was enough to make him want to rip his hair out sometimes, trying to figure out if someone was attractive or not in this world. “And this is my husband, Jondan.” Nalia made one of those cooing sounds women always seemed to make when there were babies and small children around. She knelt down in front of the girl. “Oh, I am so pleased to meet you, Tika. You are just adorable.” The girl clasped her little hands in front of her and swiveled one of her legs, the perfect picture of embarrassed pleasure. That one was going to be a heartbreaker, Sam thought. “My mommy says that you’re my Auntie Nalia, and that you are a real Sapsyra warrior,” the little girl said. “But she said you always wear a mask.” “Yes, it is true, but I do not wear the mask any longer. Do you know of the Sapsyra?” Nalia raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“Oh, yes,” the little girl answered. “I know all about the protectors of Gythe, the Sapsyra and the Zouyim. My mommy says your father is a Zouyim monk, too.” “Yes, that is also correct. Do you know other Sapsyra?” Tika shook her head. “No. My mommy says there are no Sapsyra left. Only you.” Her big eyes became liquid, but she tightened her jaw and raised her chin. “But I will be a Sapsyr, like my Auntie Nalia! You’ll see.” Sam smiled. The girl’s attitude was a perfect mirror of little Bao Ling’s. It seemed they had a good start to the next generation of warriors to protect Gythe. If they could survive the current war. “I have no doubt of it,” Nalia said, hugging the little girl. “We shall talk more later and I will tell you stories of a brave and beautiful Sapsyra warrior I know. Perhaps you will meet her one day.” She glanced at Regi, and scarlet tinged the woman’s cheeks. Nalia turned to Jondan and saluted him in the Sapsyra way, right fist inside her cupped left hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Jondan. I am Nalia Wroun.” He awkwardly returned her salute. “Oh, I know who you are. Regi has told me everything about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Regi, Jondan,” Nalia said, turning toward Sam, “this is Sam Sharp and Palusa Filk. Sam, this is my oldest friend and sister, Reginia, and Jondan…?” “Sparks,” he said. “We follow the Sapsyra way for naming. We are both Sparks, but Tika’s last name is from my family, Steen.” Reginia edged Nalia out of the way and wrapped Sam in a hug. “We have heard so much about you, Sam. They call you the Hero of Gythe.” Sam groaned as he hugged the woman and patted her back. “Please, not that. Just Sam.” Regi hugged Palusa Filk as Sam shared salutes with Jondan. It seemed the two women had met before. “Have you eaten?” Sam asked. “We were preparing to go on a journey to Kokitura this morning, but maybe you can join us for breakfast before we do. Catch up.” They had not, and soon all six were sitting at a table, happily chatting and eating. “We had heard rumors of ‘the Faceless Sapsyr,’ of course, as well as ‘the Lone Zouy.’ Most tales of one included the other.” Regi mopped up some of her porridge onto a chunk of bread and popped it into her mouth, but it didn’t stop her from continuing. “They had to be you and Rindu. How is your father, Nal?” For some reason, Nalia had a twinkle in her eye as if she was about to laugh. “Mother never could

break you of the habit of talking with your mouth full,” she said, shaking her head. “My father is doing well. He is here. I will bring you to him before we leave.” “It’s too bad you’re going on a journey the very day we arrive,” the blonde woman said, tossing her hair absently. “How long will you be gone?” “Oh,” Palusa Filk said. “We will be back this evening.” Regi and Jondan looked at each other in confusion. “I thought you said you were going to Kokitura.” “Yes, that is correct,” Nalia said. “Sam can use the rohw to teleport, to instantly transport us from here to any place in Gythe he has already memorized. He has but to learn the vibratory signature of a place, and he can go there.” “Really?” Regi said in astonishment. “That must be fantastic. I have never heard of such a thing, except maybe in speculation when the Gray Man attacked Kokitura. If only we had been able to do that back then…” She shook her head. Nalia put her hand on Regi’s and squeezed it. “It does prove useful,” Sam said. “Anyway,” Regi continued, “I laid low for a couple of years after I saw you last. I got into some trouble and wasn’t able to make it to our meeting as planned. When I heard about Marybador, well, I knew I had to keep out of sight. I met Jondan and

within another couple of years Tika came along. Once she was in the picture, I had to be even more careful. The Gray Man seemed to be increasing in power and influence, and I had more to think about than just myself. You understand, right?” “I do. You did correctly,” Nalia said, still holding Regi’s hand. “But when we heard of the Gray Man’s defeat, and that the Faceless Sapsyr and the Lone Zouy may have been involved, I knew it was time to try to find you.” “It is the same with myself and Torim Jet,” Palusa said. “With the situation as it is, another Sapsyr is sorely needed, and would be much appreciated.” Tika perked up at that. “Another Sapsyr? Mommy, will I meet the beautiful Sapsyra warrior Auntie Nalia talked about?” A guilty look came over Regi’s face. She opened her mouth to say something, but Nalia beat her to it. “Wouldn’t you like Palusa Filk to tell you about the Zouyim temple instead right now? Did you know that she is a real Zouyim monk?” “Really?” Tika’s blue eyes grew wide. “Did you live at the temple?” “I did indeed,” Palusa Filk said, moving to sit next to the girl on the bench. “I entered the temple when I was a little younger than you. Would you

like to hear about it?” Tika bounced on the seat and clapped. “Oh yes, please.” “Let us move over here a little so that we can share stories, just you and I,” the silver-haired monk said, winking at Nalia over her shoulder. Nalia mouthed “thank you” back at her. Nalia turned back toward Regi, and the smile she had given Palusa Filk disappeared completely. “You have not told your daughter that you are one of the Sapsyra?” Regi put her hands up as if in surrender. “No. Let me explain.” “Are you now ashamed of what you are?” Nalia pressed. “Nal,” Sam said. “Let her speak. It’s obvious she did it to protect her family. Can’t you see how hard it was for her?” Nalia looked from Sam to Regi. On seeing the blonde-haired woman’s face, her own lost its heat. “Is this true?” Regi sighed. “Yes. Children cannot keep secrets. I never told her because if anyone had found out who I am, who I was, the Gray Man’s minions would have hunted me down. Me and my family. I couldn’t. I didn’t even tell Jondan for years after we were together. You don’t know how hard it was, hiding the pain. You don’t know how hard it is to hear my daughter talk with dreamy

eyes about the Sapsyra, not looking up to me because I’m just a mother and not a warrior. I had to keep silent, though, to keep her safe.” “But no longer,” Nalia said. “The Gray Man is dead, the danger is past. The Sapsyra Order is to be rebuilt, and we will need you to help us.” “Yes.” Regi smiled as widely as anyone Sam had ever seen anyone smile. “That’s why I came here. To find you, certainly, but also to help in any way I can. I missed out on the last big battle. I don’t want to miss this one, too.” Her husband looked at her and frowned. “Or at least not miss out on helping to re-establish the Order.” They smiled at each other and he nodded. “We should begin our journey,” Nalia said. “We must reach the temple site as quickly as possible. The closest place Sam knows to teleport to is Marybador, so we still have several days of travel by rakkeben.” Sam nodded. He was anxious to get started also, but hadn’t wanted to seem rude in rushing Nalia’s reunion with her friend. “You’re right. We should probably get going.” Palusa Filk and Tika came back, the little girl all smiles. Apparently she had enjoyed the stories the Zouyim monk told her. “I will see you when we return, little one. Remember what I told you. Always act with honor and truth, and it will go well with you.”

“I will,” Tika said. “Thank you, Master Palusa Filk.” “I told you, I am not a master. Not yet.” “Oops, I forgot. I’m sorry.” The girl hid her eyes in her hands in embarrassment until Palusa Filk hugged her and assured her it was all right. “I will ask one of the serving women to tell my father you are here,” Nalia told Regi. “He will come and greet you and show you around the fortress. We should be back in time for the evening meal.” Regi hugged Nalia, then hugged Palusa Filk, then surprised Sam by hugging him, too. “Thank you, Nalia. I’ll see you tonight. We can catch up more then.” As Sam, Nalia, and Palusa left the dining hall, Nalia seemed to be walking on air. She had just found out one of her oldest, dearest friends was alive, so why wouldn’t she feel that way? It did Sam’s heart good to see the woman he loved so happy. With a smile on his own face, he led them to where he would teleport the three of them to Marybador. “You don’t really have to come with us each day,” Sam told Palusa Filk. “It’ll just be boring travel on roads until we get to Tramgadal.” “I know,” the Zouy said. “I will travel with you today and then decide if I will continue or wait until you make it to the slopes of Kokitura. I have been

within the fortress for weeks now and would like to experience the open road again for a time. If you do not mind, that is.” “No,” Nalia said. “We do not mind at all. Your company is welcome.” “Then let us travel,” Palusa Filk said, smiling and leaping onto her manu bird. “The sooner we can get to Kokitura, the sooner you can bring the Brothers of the Rohw back to begin their work. Gythe has been long enough without Zouyim disciples.” Sam teleported them to the site of the ruined compound at Marybador, and soon they were on their way toward where the Zouyim temple had been.

CHAPTER 35

I

x looked over at her companion. Ru Wilkes—she supposed she should have referred to him as Commander Wilkes —looked older than he had when she had last seen him a year before, much older than the time would account for. He had spoken of the long months on the Gray Man’s business, hardships and danger and then the realization that the entire world had changed while he and his men were trying to make their way back home. He was still solid, though, still vital. If anything, his older, more settled perspective made him seem even more of a soldier. No, not more of a soldier, more of a commander. That was the difference, she realized: he now radiated the air of command. He hadn’t had that before, or at least not as prominently as it was now. She wondered if he was

really as comfortable as he seemed about the new order of things. They had been traveling together for over a week, making their way toward the fortress he had seen, the one they all believed to be Chetra Dal’s. Now that they were closing in on their destination, they were riding their manu birds instead of teleporting. With nothing to do but talk, she had found him to be a good man. As if her opinion on what a good man was meant anything. He wondered if he saw her as a good woman, as someone to rely on. She had never cared what anyone thought of her, but her perspective had changed over the last several months. Her honor meant more to her, and her reputation, especially when it represented her clan name, was important now as it hadn’t been since her parents had died. She hoped she could erase the black marks against her. “It shouldn’t be too much longer,” he said. “I recognize the terrain here.” He swept his arm out as if to include the flat land stretching all the way to the horizon. There were a few scattered trees, mostly short and misshapen things, tenaciously clinging to the land but looking as if the wind would scour them from it and carry them away. Here and there were the mounds of hills, most of them flat-topped with sides that looked like rumpled bolts of cloth curling

around them. The walls, some of them sheer but all looking to be made of dirt and not stone, often had runnels cut into them from the past season’s rains. None were very big, not from where Ix was sitting on her manu bird’s saddle. Maybe they would seem bigger when they got closer to them. As the two rode around one of the flat-topped hills, Ru Wilkes stopped, putting his hand out to signal Ix to stop as well. “I thought…” he said, looking around warily. “I thought I heard something. Maybe it was just the wind.” Still, he remained where he was, scanning the area. He didn’t seem too surprised when the creatures came at him from around a fold in the land that made up the base of the hill a few moments later. He drew his sword as he leapt off his manu. Ix didn’t bother dismounting. She teleported directly off her bird’s back into the path of the incoming monsters. The assassin knew it was the first time the commander had engaged the mutant creatures Baron Tingai had created. They had talked at length about the foes they may face. He didn’t seem fazed, but went about slashing with his sword in a cold, methodical manner. The man was a pure professional. The assassin lost sight of her companion, caught up in the midst of her own battle. With only two of them against what had to be two dozen mutated

creatures, she could fully utilize her teleportation abilities, disappearing as they attacked her, only to rematerialize behind them to slash at them with her ring daggers. She almost laughed at the joy of being able to move again after dealing with the boredom of her travels for so long. A couple of times, it looked as if Ru Wilkes would be overwhelmed by their foes, so Ix would teleport near him, slash and slice and puncture some of his attackers to one side or the other of him, and allow him to move to a more advantageous position. Facing four of the creatures, all human-sized and a jumble of person and animal parts, Ix dropped into a low stance, ring daggers at the ready. Two of the monsters, one with fur all over and strange, lupine eyes, and the other with scales like a snake covering its naked body, lunged in. The wolf attempted to snap at her with its teeth while the scaled creature clawed at her with both hands, quick as the snake it looked like. Ix threw a lightning-fast front kick at the wolf creature’s chin, snapping its jaws shut. She felt something break as she did it, maybe teeth or the jawbone itself. Spinning off to the left, she used the momentum to slash at the snake creature’s arms, cutting a shallow gash in one but striking a much deeper cut in the other. It hissed at her as it drew its arms back.

Before she even realized, the other two—some sort of half-bird creature and a mutant that didn’t appear to have animal parts but instead looked like a stretched human, over seven feet tall—had gotten close. She reacted on instinct, continuing her rotation to lash out with both daggers at the bird monster as it reached for her with its talons. She was surprised to hear a clanging sound, like metal hitting stone, with no apparent effect. Ducking under a wild swing by the stretched mutant, she danced back a step to get a better look at her surroundings. All four of her attackers were moving toward her, the wolf creature whining, the snake mutant dripping blood from its wounds, but the other two uninjured. She spared a glance at Ru Wilkes, his sword darting around blocking and attacking the two creatures in front of him. All that was left was to finish off the remnant. Ix waited until all four of her attackers were almost within reach, then she teleported and struck the stretched man-creature and the wolf from behind, driving the long blade of her ring daggers into the back of their necks. The blade went through their spinal cords and both instantly dropped to the ground, unable to move anything but their heads. The last two took only a few seconds more. She disappeared and appeared so rapidly around the

snake creature, it was confused and stopped moving altogether. Ix took the opportunity to drive her daggers into the kidney and, angling the blade to slip between the ribs, into the heart from behind. That left only the bird creature with the arms like stone. The mutant was quick, as birds are, and it had just enough caution not to respond to most of her feints as she teleported around it to confuse it. She finally lured it to over commit when she appeared behind it and struck toward its neck like she had with the others. It twisted, putting its talons up to block her daggers. When it did, Ix teleported to the side and drove both blades into its eyes as it turned into them. The lifeless corpse slid off her weapons and lay still on the ground. Ru Wilkes walked up to her, a slash on his arm causing blood to run down the length of it and drip off his fingers. Other than that, he didn’t look any worse for the wear. “I guess that would be confirmation we’re close to our destination,” he said. “Not a party sent out specifically to attack us, I think. Just a patrol.” “Yes, that would be my guess as well,” Ix said. “Are you all right?” The commander looked down at his arm and then shook his hand, flicking the blood to the ground. “Yeah. It’s just a scratch. I’ve gotten worse practicing with wooden weapons.”

Still, Ix cleaned and bandaged the wound, telling him to keep an eye on it as it healed. Some of the mutants had nasty diseases, and claw and tooth could easily transmit them. “We should probably be a bit more careful now,” she said. “If there are patrols, I’d just as soon not allow them to see us.” Ru Wilkes agreed with her, and they continued toward where he recalled the fortress to be. It wasn’t far. Within an hour’s time, they were rounding another of the flat-topped hills and the sight opened up in front of them. It was a much larger hill than most of the others they’d seen, and on top of it sat a squat fortress. Ix looked it over carefully. The walls didn’t appear to be very high, though being on top of the cliffs of the hill, the top of the wall was far from the ground. The buildings, poking up above the tops of the battlements, were squat and blocky, too. It didn’t look like much to her. Then again, she was used to Whitehall. She supposed her attitude affected her opinion of any other fortress. “That’s it, then?” she asked her companion. “That’s the one I saw, yes. What do you think? Is that where Chetra Dal lives?” Ix scanned the hill, the walls, the structures. “It has to be. With mutants patrolling, what else could it be?” They had seen two other patrols but evaded them easily. “I should go in and scout it out.”

The commander looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “You promised Sam you wouldn’t go in or engage them in any way.” She cursed softly under her breath. “I did,” she said grudgingly. “Okay, let’s go back to Whitehall. I can teleport us all back here whenever he wants to come.” She moved her manu bird next to Ru Wilkes, grabbed his arm and his manu, made sure her skin was also touching her bird, and activated her power. In a blink, they disappeared as if they had never been there at all.

THAT SAME DAY, Sam, Nalia, and Palusa Filk stood in the middle of what was left of the village of Tramgadal. It had been called “the gateway to Kokitura” because it was at the start of the trail up the mountain to the Zouyim temple. It looked the same as when Sam had passed through it last, more than two years before. Well, less than a year in Gythe time, but to him it had been more than two years. The few buildings still standing leaned as if they would collapse in a stiff breeze. Shrubs and weeds poked up out of what used to be the floors of rooms, and the entire village had the lifeless chill of

abandonment. Birds flitted around them as the little party made their way to the end of what had been the main street of Tramgadal. Sam stopped and looked up the trail. It wound up the slope of the mountain and disappeared after just a few turns. His hands were shaking. “I can’t believe we’re here,” he said. “When we were here last time, I knew we couldn’t spare the hours we’d need to go to the top of the mountain to see the ruins of the temple. Now, though, here, right now, it almost seems unreal. I’ve heard so much about the temple, and now I’ll get a chance to see the history for myself.” “Do not become too anxious, Sam,” Nalia said. “There is nothing left of the temple of legend, just a few stone blocks littered around the area where the Zouyim temple once stood. That is my understanding. I have not looked upon the temple grounds since it has been destroyed.” “Yes, that is correct,” Palusa Filk added. “The last time I was there, nothing was left of the temple structures. However, there were the bodies of my brothers and sisters, and many soldiers. Those will be gone now, back to the soil from which they sprang.” She wilted and Sam knew she was remembering that day. “I know,” Sam said. “I’m not expecting buildings or anything. It’s the place I’m interested

in, the vortex of power where the ley lines meet. I have heard a lot about how powerful the rohw is at that location, even more so because of the generations of masters who wielded the energy there.” Nalia smiled at him. “Yes, that will not have changed. Let us begin. The sooner we depart, the sooner we will reach the top.” The trio made their way up the winding path to the former site of the temple at Kokitura. “I like to think I’m in pretty good shape,” Sam said as they made the turn on yet another of the many switchbacks, “but this is a tough hike.” He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. The air was cool, which he was thankful for. Any warmer, and he’d be soaked with sweat. “It is the height of the mountain,” Nalia said. She didn’t seem to be having any problems with the hike. “As we go up, the air becomes harder to breathe.” Sam nodded. Of course. He knew that the mountain was around fourteen thousand feet in elevation. He hadn’t done much hiking on high mountains. His body didn’t know how to handle it. He would have to watch for signs of altitude sickness. “Cheer up, Sam,” Palusa said. “We are almost halfway there.” Sam expelled a breath and put his eyes on the

trail in front of him. Almost halfway. He focused on putting one foot after the other and then another… His two companions were kind to him, hiking slowly and stopping for breaks more often than they probably would if he was not with them. He ate what he could and drank often from the hydration pack he had brought from home, but it still seemed like the longest day he had ever had. The hike took them over ten hours, but when they finally made the last turn on the trail and a relatively flat and open area spread out before them, Sam knew that he had reached the site of the temple. He didn’t need to see it. He could feel it. His fatigue melted away, and his body tingled as if he was standing on electrified ground. It felt to him as if the hairs on his arms were trying to stand up. Nalia saw his smile and came over to him. “You feel the rohw,” she said. “Yes. It’s…it’s amazing. I’ve never felt such a concentration of the vibrational energy, not even at Whitehall.” “Generations of rohw masters trained and lived here,” Palusa Filk said. “The area is a vortex, a meeting place of several ley lines, but the focused use of the energy over hundreds of years have made this a place of power unlike any I have ever known or heard of.” “It feels like…home,” Sam said. The two

women smiled at him, nodding. “Yes,” they both said at the same time. “Home.” Sam spent more than an hour pacing slowly around the place where the Zouyim temple had once been. The altitude made his breathing difficult, but since he was no longer climbing, he hardly noticed it. Instead, he marveled at the feeling of the currents of rohw as they swirled around him. The area was generally flat, near the crest of the mountain itself. He could pick out a few shapes that appeared to be stone, but most were covered by the dust of years and snow of months. He walked up to one large mound and, scraping away the dirt and snow, found that it was indeed stone, the remnant of a wall of some sort. Nalia had been walking silently beside him. “It is all that is left of the grand temple. A few shattered stone blocks. Nothing more.” Sam nodded as he scratched at the obstructions covering the blocks. He was surprised to see plants, some kind of weeds, growing over and poking up in between many of them. What’s more, there were trees, though most looked stunted and sickly. “Nal,” he said without taking his eyes from the plants and trees, “how are there trees up here? We’re way too far above the tree line for anything to be growing here.”

“Ah,” Palusa Filk said, coming up from her own inspection of the temple grounds. “That is one of the fascinating things about the temple. The masters long ago were able to channel the rohw in such a way as to nurture trees and plants. There were orchards planted around the temple walls as well as within. Fruit trees, vegetables, we had fresh food ready to hand at all times. To see the flowering of the fruit trees in the spring, knowing that it was impossible for them to thrive in this harsh climate, was a joy, but not even the greatest of the wonders of Kokitura.” “Amazing,” Sam said. “It looks as if whatever the masters did, some of it still remains. Once the temple is rebuilt, I bet the trees here could be nurtured back to health. They look unhealthy and weak, but they’re alive.” As he spoke, he noticed the beginnings of buds on the branches of some of the trees. They, at least, seemed to know it was spring. Sam sat down on a particularly large mound that looked to be a stone block. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve looked around enough for now.” He looked toward the sun, moving its way toward the horizon. Even now, he was in the shadow of the peak of the mountain. “I will meditate for a moment and learn this place, and then we can go back and have the Brothers of the Rohw prepare to come here tomorrow morning.”

Both women nodded. They moved off a few feet and began softly conversing, allowing Sam to do what he needed to do. Within minutes, he was done. The vibrational signature of the place came to him quickly, almost as if he had been there before and just needed reminding. No doubt it was an effect of the vortex of power. Beckoning Nalia and Palusa to himself, he dove into the darkness of his mind, set the vibrational signature of Whitehall, and the three left the cold mountain peak without a sound.

CHAPTER 36

“W

e found the fortress,” Ix said as she waved a half-eaten piece of bread about as if to describe the place. “We ran into some patrols of the mutated creatures, so it seems that it’s the right place.” “That’s good,” Sam said, taking a bite of his stew. “We got to the top of Kokitura Mountain, and I learned the place so I can take the brothers up there tomorrow morning. That shouldn’t take long, and then you can take us to deal with Chetra Dal.” Sam noticed Rindu’s face, even more blank than normal, and he opened his mouth to explain himself, but Rindu spoke first. “Do not worry, Sam. I took no offense to your speech. It still has not been proven to me that the enemy we face is in fact my old master, but even if he is, what you say is accurate. We must ‘deal with him.’ It is regrettable,

but necessary. All of Gythe is at stake.” The others at the table grew silent. The silence stretched on for what seemed to Sam to be a long time. “What is your plan, Sam?” Torim Jet finally said, his words loud in Sam’s ears after the silence. “I don’t think we need much of a plan. We’ll go to the fortress, I’ll learn the area, just in case, and then we’ll go in. With Ix, the whole party can be teleported directly into the fortress, bypassing all the walls. We’ll find Dal and kill him.” “Perhaps that is a simplification of a difficult task,” Nalia said. “If it is Master Chetra Dal we face, he will not be defeated so easily. Remember Ayim Rasaad.” “I remember,” Sam answered. “I just don’t see that there is any other way to plan it. I’d welcome any suggestions or changes to the simple plan.” No one said anything. “Okay,” Sam continued, “then we’ll just go with what we have. Let me know if anyone thinks of anything. Otherwise, we can all meet midmorning tomorrow, after I’ve taken the Brothers of the Order of the Rohw to Kokitura. Ix, can you take me to where you stopped after we eat? I can learn the location so I can transport everyone tomorrow. We don’t want to tire you before a fight.” Before sunrise the next morning, Sam met with

those who were going to Kokitura to start the construction of the new Zouyim temple. There were thirty in all, most of them from the Order of the Rohw, but not all. Several craftsman and at least one engineer had decided to go as well, explaining that a few people would not be missed at the fortress but would make a great difference in how the work progressed at the temple site. Sam agreed. Brothers Dilkin and Mosian were nearly dancing in anticipation, though they controlled it well. Sam could see in their eyes how anxious they were to get started, how excited they were to realize their lifelong dream of helping the Zouyim and creating something that would be a lasting legacy for the brothers as well as the Zouyim themselves. “I know you’re eager to begin,” Sam said, “but let’s have a big breakfast. It may be the last big meal you have for a while. I will return each week to see what supplies you need, but if something should happen to me or Ix, it will be a long journey to resupply you.” “Yes,” Dilkin Turin said. “Your words are wise. We will cultivate patience in this, though my heart burns to begin our project.” Sam slapped the older man on the back. “I know. We can eat a little more quickly than normal, as a compromise.” Dilkin smiled at him. “Do you have all the plans and necessary

drawings?” Sam asked Surim Denga, the engineer and leader of the construction team. The man was short and thin with black hair and hazel eyes that seemed extra bright because of the dark hair hanging in his face. He had a perpetual expression of either irritation or boredom, though Sam couldn’t figure out which it was. He was friendly enough, though, and competent. Dr. Walt had highly recommended him. “We do,” he said in a clipped tone. Sam didn’t take offense to his sharp, brief way of speaking. It was just how the man communicated. “We have spent many hours with Master Torim Jet and Master Rindu Zose and know exactly how the temple will be built. It is mostly as it used to stand, but there are a few modifications, I understand, improvements the masters, and previous masters, saw as desirable.” “Good,” Sam said. “And the materials to start with? They are all staged in the section of the courtyard we spoke about?” “It is all there and accounted for,” the engineer stated. “I have briefed the masons and the carpenters, as well as the other craftsmen and the brothers. We are as prepared as anyone can be for the project. The foodstuffs are also in the courtyard with the materials. One month’s supply, more if we ration them.” “It sounds like we’re all set then,” Sam said.

“Remember, if I don’t show up in a week, begin rationing the food immediately and send someone back here to see what happened. It could be anything from the death of me and Ix to the entire fortress and everyone here being destroyed. Make sure the person who comes is wary.” “We have our messenger already chosen,” Brother Dilkin said. “He is an experienced brother, strong in the rohw. He will not fail if he is called upon to investigate.” They finished their meal, chatting about small things, and soon it was time to leave. As they got up to go to the staging point for their departure, Rindu came through the door to the dining hall, Torim Jet following closely on his heels. “Ah, Sam,” Rindu said, picking him out and walking toward him. “I had hoped you had not left yet. I wish to accompany you, if that is acceptable. And Torim Jet as well.” “Of course, Master Rindu. We are honored to have you.” Brother Dilkin and Brother Mosian bowed deeply to the two masters, saluting them in greeting. The Zouyim returned the bows and salutes. “We want to see the temple site as it is now, before reconstruction,” Torim Jet said. “I will make sketches and paint a picture so that we never forget the dark days when Gythe had no temple and the

Zouyim were almost eliminated from the world.” “We were just heading to the place where all the supplies are staged for me to teleport them to Kokitura. If you will follow us, we should be leaving in just a few minutes.” The brothers, the Zouyim, the craftsman, Surim Denga, and Sam filed out in a procession toward the courtyard. Once Sam reached the supplies, he browsed the piles of materials, food, and other necessary items. He trusted that Surim had accounted for and thought of everything they would need, so he wasn’t trying to take inventory, just having a look around. There were dozens of massive stone blocks to be used as the cornerstones of the main structures and the walls themselves. Wood planks and beams were stacked neatly in other rows. Tools were piled or neatly stowed away in boxes and chests. Flour, vegetables, salted meat, and fruit were in another area, along with temporary pens with sheep, pigs, and four oxen to be used for heavy lifting and dragging. Several tents, the cloth folded neatly alongside the support poles, finished off the list. “It looks like everything is here,” Sam said. “How long will it take you to use up all the building materials?” he asked Surim Denga. “I would say that if we don’t run into any troubles that delay us,” Surim said, “it will take at

least two weeks until we need more supplies.” “Good. I plan on bringing more in a week. Hopefully everything goes smoothly and you will never have to stop work because of lack of materials.” Surim Denga nodded. “Pletan Dorr is the engineer in charge of things here in Whitehall. He will make sure the next batch of supplies is always gathered and staged here for you to teleport. If there are any issues, he can speak with all my authority. We are bringing a number of pigeons with which to communicate.” “Then I guess there’s nothing left to do but to go to Kokitura,” Sam said. “Please make sure everyone is within the roped-off area. If they’re outside the rope, they won’t be transported. Give me a few minutes to prepare myself, and I will teleport everything and everyone to our destination.” The engineer barked a few sharp commands and everyone stopped talking, moved to the appropriate location, and waited quietly as Sam sat down on the cobblestones in the courtyard and teleported them to the mountain. Rindu and Torim Jet walked the place where the Zouyim temple had once stood. They both had blank expressions on their faces, though Torim Jet’s hands twitched slightly, almost as if to reach at something.

The older monk soon sat down and started sketching the area. Rindu conversed quietly with Surim Denga as the Brothers of the Rohw and the craftsmen began erecting tents outside of what would be the work zone. In a surprisingly short amount of time, Torim Jet had finished his drawings, all the temporary living quarters were up, and Rindu came back to Sam. The workers lined up in front of Sam and the two Zouyim, looking at them expectantly, like they were waiting for a speech. The silence was deafening. If it wasn’t for the wind whistling over the ridge and the soft sounds of a few of the men shuffling their feet, it would have been eerie. Sam looked to the two monks beside him. They seemed to be content with the silence. It was uncomfortable to Sam, and as it stretched on, it seemed to be so for the men arrayed in front of him as well. Rindu looked around, face as calm and placid as ever, and then his eyes widened ever so slightly. “Oh,” he said softly and, looking to Torim Jet and then to Sam, took a half a step forward. As he opened his mouth to speak, the entire crowd relaxed as if sighing out the tension within them. “You have volunteered to face hardship and the elements to begin the rebuilding of the Zouyim temple,” he said to them, “and for this, you must be commended. It is no small task you have taken as

your own. It is very important to Gythe, to the Zouyim left living, and to me personally. “It reminds me of a story one of my masters told me when I was a young disciple in the temple, not a few hundred feet from where we are now.” His eyes moved to a location on the other side of his audience, and it seemed to Sam that they became unfocused for just a moment. “I would like to tell it to you now.” Sam watched the faces of those gathered in front of them. Most of them shone with reverent looks. They revered the Zouyim, hung on every word they said. Even the craftsman who did not feel as strongly about the monks respected them and looked almost eager to hear Rindu’s story. Sam glanced to Torim Jet, who felt Sam’s gaze and smiled at him. He was sure the old monk had heard every story Rindu had ever told, but he seemed content to listen. “There was once a young beaver. He was industrious, as his kind usually were, but he was ambitious as well. He dreamed of being famous, of being renowned for his skill in combat, his vast intelligence, his unmatched wisdom. He would settle for any of these, really, as long as others remembered his name and looked at him in awe. As long as he was known for the good he did for others. “Yet, when the other animals in the section of

forest in which he lived were practicing to become heroes, the young beaver was forced to take part in the family trade, that of building dams. “‘You must exert yourself and build with skill and efficiency,’ his mother would often tell him. ‘Take pride in your work, and your work will be your pride.’ “He never understood what she meant. To him, it was simple. Without spending time practicing or learning or exploring, he would never gain the fame he so craved. And so, he lived a dull existence, working most of each day building and watching from afar as Fox, Crane, and Snake honed their skills and became great warriors. “Soon it came to pass that his father fell ill and eventually died, leaving the responsibility for making and increasing the family home, and of building dams, to the young beaver. The sadness of his father passing and his new responsibility was too much and the beaver broke down and cried, wondering why life was so cruel. Now he would never be famous, and no one would know his name. “The years came and went, and it came about that the great hero Captain Pantor visited the area in which beaver still lived. With him were three of the warriors who had grown up with Beaver, all of them heroes in their own right. It was fine to see how his friends had made names for themselves, and the celebration of their visit was a grand affair;

he could not dispute that. But still, Beaver felt as if he had been cheated of his own chances. Life, it seemed, was unfair and gave the advantage to some while crushing the dreams of others. “As Beaver sat at the edge of the festivities, head in his paws, a shadow cast in the firelight darkened where he sat. Beaver looked up to see Captain Pantor, the most celebrated hero for hundreds of miles. “‘May I sit with you?’ the captain’s deep voice, rich with the air of command, said. “‘Of course,’ Beaver said, nervous to speak in the presence of his hero. “‘I am told you are the architect and builder of this fine dam,’ the pantor said, pointing toward beaver’s home. “‘It is true. I have spent my whole life building when I wanted to be learning to be a hero like my friends. Like you.’ “Pantor’s face scrunched up in confusion. ‘Why is it that you wanted to be a hero? Was it for fame alone, to have others speak your name in awe?’ “‘That is part of it,’ beaver admitted. ‘But more, I wanted to help others. I wanted to be remembered as someone who saved lives and made my home and the surrounding areas better with my heroism or wisdom.’ “‘I see,’ Captain Pantor said. ‘It is much the

same with me. I wanted to aid others. I have been able to do that, in my way, by becoming the best warrior I could to battle those who wished to invade my home and the homes of my friends.’ “‘Then you understand me,’ Beaver said, relieved that someone recognized what he was feeling. “‘I understand the sentiment, yes,’ the pantor said, ‘but I do not understand your sadness. You have built this marvelous structure, causing the river to back up and create a lake here for all these wonderful animals to live. Your work is known far and wide. When they found I was coming here to visit, many of my acquaintances from miles around asked me to express my thanks and admiration to the architect of the structure that has helped more than any combat I could take part in. If it is fame you crave, you have attained it. If it is to help others that you strive, you have succeeded.’ “Beaver looked at his hero, his furry mouth open and his dark eyes wide. ‘But I have done nothing but the toil and the hard labor forced upon me by my parents.’ “‘Then your parents, too, should be commended. My name will be forgotten, eventually. But your contribution, the dam you have built to benefit all the other animals for miles around, it will stand for much longer. Tell me then, little beaver, whose legacy is greater? It is my honor

to meet you, for I could not do what you have done in selflessly creating something to benefit others. Alas, I am but a simple soldier and so will continue fighting, but know that if I had the skill, I would join you in erecting a lasting monument for the benefit of all people.’ “Captain Pantor, the celebrated hero and finest warrior Beaver had ever heard of, stood at attention and saluted the small builder, then walked back toward the fire, leaving Beaver to contemplate what he had been told. “So, too,” Rindu said to the workers assembled, “is what you begin today of limitless value. You will rebuild the Zouyim temple, a center of learning and the headquarters of the protectors of Gythe. Without you and your sacrifice, your work, this would never come to be and there would be no place for future heroes to train and learn. I therefore salute you,” Rindu stood up straighter and saluted all those in front of him, “and tell you that I am proud to know you, heroes of Gythe all.” As Rindu’s voice faded, the silence grew. Sam watched the audience arrayed in front of the monk, their eyes staring, almost as if they were in a trance. Several of the men blinked, and they began to move. A handful nodded and most of them wore smiles. Proud smiles. Sam had to admit that this particular story was not only appropriate, but seemed to be a hit. Rindu, of course, wore his

normal emotionless expression. “That was a very good story,” Sam whispered to him as they made their way to a spot he could use to teleport them away. “Thank you, Sam,” Rindu said. “I felt that it was fitting in the circumstance.” As they teleported away, those they left at the temple site waved and smiled and looked anxious to start their work. Sam smiled. Fitting indeed.

CHAPTER 37

W

hen the three returned to Whitehall, the others were waiting for them. Ix, Nalia, Emerius, Palusa Filk, and Ru Wilkes were sitting around the traveling point with various degrees of patience. “You didn’t have to wait for us here,” Sam said. “We could have gone and found you.” “Everyone is too impatient for that,” Ix said. “I, for one, want to get this over with, and any delays are unwelcome.” Sam felt his cheeks warm. “Sorry. Have you been waiting long?” “No,” Nalia said. “We have been here but a few minutes. Do not let it concern you, Sam. We are anxious to proceed, true, but starting the reconstruction of the temple is important as well.” Ix dipped her head. “That’s true. I didn’t mean

for it to sound so harsh. I’m eager to get rid of this Chetra Dal. I am tired of war.” The others all nodded. “Okay, then,” Sam said. “Everyone gather around so I can take us to the place Ix showed me yesterday.” Sam seated himself and prepared to teleport them. “Wait,” a woman’s voice said. “Wait for me. I don’t want to be left out again.” It was Regi, running toward them from around the keep, a long pole with blades at both ends held in her hand. Sam looked to Nalia, raising his eyebrows. “I found it in one of the armories,” Nalia told him. “It is almost identical to the weapon she used to use. She was very skilled with it. Even without practice for the last several years, she is capable and will not be a hindrance.” “Thank you,” the golden-haired Sapsyr said, sliding in between Nalia and Rindu. Her smile lit up the courtyard. Sam thought maybe she wasn’t the ugliest woman he’d seen. Not with that smile. Nalia looked at her friend. “You are wearing Sapsyra garb. You swore you would never do so, that you liked your own style of clothing. Clothing that showed off your body, if I recall correctly.” Regi’s face colored. “I now wear the traditional clothing of a Sapsyr as a sign of respect and allegiance to the Order. I have told Tika of my secret and watched her eyes light up when I

removed from the storage box a set of clothing I have kept all these years. I look pretty fantastic in them, right?” Nalia shook her head, but she smiled nonetheless. With everyone ready, Sam matched their vibrations to their destination and the party was instantly in another location. The night before, it had been dark by the time Ix had showed Sam the spot where she and Ru Wilkes stopped. In daylight, he saw the land was generally level plains, with a few flat-topped hills that looked as if their sides had been bunched up around them, compressed and folded like cloth. They were near one of them, and he could see how the patterns were most likely from heavy rains that washed the soil off in runnels year by year. Other than the little hills, all Sam could see for miles was featureless grasslands. Tiny clumps of misshapen trees dotted the landscape in a few locations, but otherwise this was as desolate a land as Sam had ever seen. It would be good for farming, he thought, but it didn’t seem as if anyone farmed the area. The wind whistled past, causing a chill to run up Sam’s spine. At least, he thought it was the wind that caused it. The thought of engaging Chetra Dal in combat could have been responsible. He remembered the fight with Ayim Rasaad. He, along

with Rindu and Nalia, had barely been able to best her, and Chetra Dal was her master. How much more powerful was he? “Sam,” Nalia said. “Are you well?” “Yes. I’m ready. Let’s do this.” Funny how he didn’t feel foolish saying that this time, like he had during his last trip to Gythe. Maybe not just circumstances had changed. Maybe he had, too. Sam looked around at his friends as they prepared to infiltrate the fortress. Nalia, her dark hair gathered in a ponytail, her eyes blue like a summer sky and then pale green as grass in the fall as she turned her head slightly, her look serious and business-like. Rindu, his salt and pepper hair gathered likewise behind his head and cinched with a leather cord, his expression as emotionless as ever, as if he was just lounging around waiting for a bus. Ix, her short black hair moving slightly in the breeze, her hand unconsciously caressing the ring daggers strapped to her legs, looked at him and grinned like a child ready to engage in sporting contest. He nodded to her as her eyes locked on his. Torim Jet, the old master who Sam believed was insane the first time they met. His white hair was neatly held down with a cloth headband, a stark contrast to the wild, flyaway hair that flew behind him as he attacked Rindu at that first meeting. His

eyes, intense as a hawk’s, seemed unfocused, his face reflecting deep thought. No doubt he was contemplating their coming encounter with Chetra Dal, a legend and idol for all the Zouyim, if it was the same man. Palusa Filk’s short silver hair danced as she shifted her gaze from Rindu to Torim Jet and over to Sam. When his eyes met hers, she smiled that pixie smile of hers, making him return the smile automatically. The diminutive Zouy always made Sam smile, but despite her bubbly nature, she was a skilled fighter, as the bruises she had given him could attest. Ru Wilkes, ever the professional, had at least three swords, two long knives, and several shorter knives strapped to his body. He gave Sam a firm nod, his hand moving slowly up like he wanted to salute, but didn’t complete the motion. Sam nodded back to the man. Regi was almost dancing from nervous energy. If there was one person Sam was worried about, it was her. Nalia had said she was an excellent warrior, but that was years ago. Had the woman practiced at all? He would try to keep an eye on her in case she got into trouble. She held her weapon easily, moved it as if it was part of her. That was a good sign, at least. She tossed her long blonde hair, loose but seeming to behave as if trained in its movement, and shifted her eyes to Sam as if she

had felt his on her. The intensity of those blue eyes almost made him take a step back, but then they twinkled as she flashed that amazing smile at him, blew him a kiss, and giggled about it. Nalia’s elbow made him look to her just as she rolled her eyes. “Regi is nervous,” she whispered to him. “But she will be fine. Do not worry.” Finally, Sam looked to Emerius Dinn. The hunter had a new quiver on his back, designed to cover the entire expanse of his wide torso. It must have held more than fifty arrows. He also had a hip quiver bristling with more arrows. His long knives were hanging from his belt, too, just in case he used up his supply of projectiles. For added measure, he carried another great quiver. Sam raised an eyebrow at the man and he nodded so the mop of dark red locks bounced. He smiled, his green eyes flashing. “I’m prepared,” he said matter-of-factly. Sam guessed he was. The eight moved around the hill, and Sam caught his first look of the fortress itself. He took a breath to steady his nerves. Chetra Dal’s fortress was not like Whitehall. It wasn’t massive or nearly as formidable as the place Sam had infiltrated and now called home. Still, it was a fortress, another set of walls to breach, another group of enemies to get through. How he tired of this. How he wished for his simple life in

Telani, not having to worry about killing or being killed. “I wish for that, too,” Nalia whispered to him. He hadn’t even realized he had spoken aloud. “We will complete this mission, and then perhaps we can have peace like that again here in Gythe.” He reached over and took her hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss it. “I hope so, Nal.” “…and I’ll teleport in so I can open the gates for the rest of you,” Ix was saying to the others. Sam only caught the end of it. “Wait,” he said, “What? If you’re going to teleport in to bypass the walls, why don’t we just all go together?” “Teleporting the entire party is strenuous,” Ix answered. “I need to conserve my energy for the fight. Teleporting us all to the other side of the wall takes the same effort as going across Gythe. I can pop onto the other side of the wall, take out whatever sentries I find, and then open the gates for the rest of you.” “It’s too dangerous,” Sam said. “If you run into more guards than you can handle, they could overwhelm you.” The assassin glared at Sam. “Sam,” she said with a forced calm, as if she was explaining something to a particularly difficult child, “I am an assassin. Moving around unseen is what I do. Don’t treat me like I don’t know what I’m getting into. I

have been doing exactly this for years.” “I know, but there is no reason for you to go alone. We’re a team. Let at least one of us go with you.” “No.” “Stop being unreasonable. Just let—” “Sam,” Nalia said, “let her go. She will not be seen unless she wants to be seen. She is very good.” Ix smiled at Nalia and then looked to Sam, nodding as if that settled it. “I don’t want you to face unreasonable danger,” he said, his voice pleading. “I know, and I appreciate it, but if someone goes with me, they may cause us to be seen. Alone, I will be invisible. Trust me, Sam. I know what I’m doing.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair. Looking at the others, he blew out a breath. “Fine. Be careful, though. I don’t want to lose anyone today.” “Aww,” she teased, “I didn’t know you cared so much. Be ready. I’ll open the gate to let you in.” She blew a kiss to him and disappeared. Sam felt his face redden. It wasn’t more than a few minutes later that they heard the crossbar being removed, and then the door on the right swung open a few feet. A black-sleeved arm extended out of the opening and waved them in. The party hurried through the gates. Sam

watched the walls for any sentries, but didn’t see so much as a bird. As he came through the door, he saw five bodies in a pile along the inside the fortress. A flutter of movement caught his eye, and he turned just in time to see Ix appear behind a human soldier. She used one hand to pull his head back with a handful of hair as she drew one of the blades of her ring dagger across his throat. His eyes went wide and he struggled for a moment before his lids drifted closed and his movement slowed and then stopped. Ix and the body both disappeared, only to appear almost instantly next to the pile of bodies. She dropped the new one on top of the others. Six now. The assassin cleaned her weapon on the clothing of the man she killed last. “Let’s get to one of the buildings so we’re not in the open like this,” she said. You would never know from her demeanor that she had killed and stacked a half dozen people. Sam nodded mutely and followed her and the others, scanning the courtyard and the walls. He saw nothing. The building Ix led them to seemed to be an auxiliary building attached to the main keep building. They opened the nondescript wooden door and dashed inside. Ix was last in, making a final sweep of the surrounding area to ensure they

hadn’t been spotted. She closed the door and faced the others. Sam had already created a ball of light on the tip of his staff, and Rindu waved at a torch in the wall sconce. It flared to life. It was a simple room, more of a hallway, with crude wooden furniture. Sam couldn’t guess what it was used for. It didn’t really matter. “Okay,” Ix said, “that was easy enough. There should have been many more sentries out there. I think they’re on a skeleton crew. I haven’t seen any of the mutant creatures, but that’s probably because they’re too unpredictable to use as guards. I’m sure they have some here.” She looked down the short hallway that ended in another door. “I guess there’s only one way to go right now.” Sam started toward the portal, staff held aloft. “What I wouldn’t do for Skitter and his ability to let me see through his eyes right now. He’s been busy with finalizing the new government, though. I suppose we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way, open the door and try not to be too surprised by what we find.” He chuckled, but no one else seemed to find it funny. Sam swallowed and put his hand on the door latch. Looking back at his friends, he pulled the door slowly open and peered into the hallway beyond. Four feet in front of him, a stone wall stared back at him. He angled his view slightly to look left and saw the corridor stretch out for as far

as he could see, curving until he could only view the wall on his side of the hall. There were other doors in the hallway, but no people. Sam poked his head out of the doorway enough to look to the right and saw that the hall was identical to his view of the left. He pulled his head back in and closed the door again. “It seems like the main hallway surrounding the keep. I think it goes in a circle. There are doorways on this side, spaced far apart, giving me the impression that these little entry rooms are arrayed like spokes on a wheel. On the other side of the corridor, there are doors also. I guess we have to go through one of those. I didn’t see anyone, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t patrols.” “Are there markings or anything to distinguish the doors, one from another?” Rindu asked. “No. They all look the same. At least, the ones I could see did.” “If the corridor truly goes all the way around the keep,” Torim Jet said, “then it will not matter greatly which of the doors we take. They will all lead to the center. The choice will become more important as we near the middle, unless the area we are looking for, the area in which the one who calls himself Chetra Dal resides, is in the center itself.” “Yes,” Rindu agreed. “That is reasonable.” “Okay then,” Sam said. “Let’s take the first door we come to and we’ll see what we find. The

keep isn’t nearly as big as Whitehall, but it’s not small, either. If the rooms and corridors are the same size as the one we’re in, we have probably ten layers to get through to reach the center. Maybe more.” The rest agreed and Sam eased the door open again, repeating his cautious looks down both sides of the hallway. Nodding, he stepped out into the corridor while letting the light on his staff go out. The flickering torchlight from the wall torches made the clash of shadows dance and dart around him. Walking briskly to the closest door on the other side of the hall, he put his hand on the latch and waited for the others to join him.

CHAPTER 38

D

anaba Kemp rubbed at his eyes and then blinked them rapidly, trying to focus on the papers in front of him. He sat very still for a moment, then he slammed his fist onto the table, making the inkwell jump and almost spilling the mug of cider resting there. The three other people in the room started and looked at him. “Damn it!” he said to the report in front of him. “We lost another twelve in that last attack? How is that possible? We’re behind fifty foot walls made out of magic stone, for pantor’s sake.” Chisin Ling was to his right, the closest to him of the others in the room. She hesitated as if she wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical, then answered. “They have thousands out there. They don’t mind having them swarm the walls. If half of them die, it doesn’t seem to matter.”

“And half of them usually do die,” Dr. Walt added. “It’s dreadfully nasty business. Our forces are doing a smashing job, but there are just too many attackers.” “Don’t forget the flying creatures,” Nicole said. “I think that’s the biggest problem. Without them, they wouldn’t be nearly as successful.” “True,” Chisin said. “Those damn bird things fly in and try to open the gates. Or they carry others and drop them off to fight us on our side of the walls.” Danaba glared at the captain, but didn’t say anything. “Perhaps if you got some sleep,” Dr. Walt said, “things wouldn’t seem so grim. You have to sleep, Danaba. You’ve been up for, what, forty hours or so? You can’t go on like this.” The general put his head in his hands and let out a long breath. “I know, I know. The men aren’t getting much more sleep than that, either. We have so few. Even rotating them out so that some can sleep a few hours here and there isn’t working. Those damn mutants attack constantly. It’s all we can do to keep them from getting into the keep. If they get past the walls, we’re done for. We can’t stand up to their numbers in conventional combat. Even using rocks, oil, and arrows, we just can’t kill all of them that attack.” “Sir,” Chisin Ling said, “if you would let my

special troops have a chance. We could disrupt their plans, take the control from them. If they are too busy trying to protect themselves from us, they’re less likely to organize waves of attacks on the wall.” “It’s sound reasoning, Danaba,” Dr. Walt said. “They can attack at their leisure because they are safe in their camp. If something they didn’t expect, didn’t understand, happened, it could give us the time we need to come up with a better strategy. It could give us time to sleep so we’re not walking around befuddled from fatigue.” “In our world, special forces play a big part in warfare,” Nicole said. “Many times, their work is what turns the tide of battles, even the wars themselves.” Danaba looked at Chisin Ling. She was impressive, he had to admit. Tall, muscular, and one of the most skilled combatants he’d ever seen. She had been working with her soldiers on all types of clandestine operations. The assassin Ix had been coaching her, and Sam, Rindu, the hunter Emerius, and Nalia had been helping too when they could. He wasn’t sure exactly what she had been doing, but maybe it was time to let her see if she could do anything useful. “Fine,” he said. “I want a full briefing of what you are going to do, with a complete schedule. When do you plan on doing whatever it is you want

to do?” “Tonight,” the woman said, a wide smile breaking her face almost in two. “I have everything planned. You won’t be disappointed, sir. I guarantee.”

L ATER THAT NIGHT, six shadows detached themselves from a hidden door at the base of the cliff. One of the shadows was larger than the others. From another door a half mile away, six more wraiths made their way out onto the barren stretch of dirt between the cliffs and the Undead Forest. The secret doors led to narrow stairs that scaled the cliffs inside the rock itself, ending where the walls started. Rindu had shown Chisin Ling where they were and how to operate them. Though they were made for rohw users, there was a mechanical trip as well, obviously put in place for operatives that did not use the vibrational energy. They came in handy now. The two small groups skirted the camp of the besiegers, going around it and entering the forest itself, though not deeply. They would do their work there. Captain Chisin Ling scanned the area around

her. She and the five members of her squad were close, but she could barely pick them out of the surroundings. They were wearing special tactical clothing she had a tailor make for them. It was snug, yet allowed free movement. She had patterned them after the garb of the Sapsyra, with one exception: instead of mottled gray, they were a very dark blue color. The color would fade into the nighttime landscape better than black, which could be too dark for surrounding shadows if the moon was bright, as it was tonight. The uniform was all one piece, long-sleeved, and had armguards that covered the forearms and the backs of the hands while still leaving the hands free. Gloves could have compromised dexterity. Finishing off the ensemble were tight hoods and a scarf-like piece of clothing that covered the neck and the bottom of the face. In the darkness, it appeared as if six sets of disembodied eyes were bouncing about. The captain made a few sharp gestures with her hands, and they all moved off as one, picking their way through the trees—not quite so dense at the edge of the forest as in the heart of it, she’d heard —toward the light of the enemy camp. As she came closer to the edge of the trees, her mouth dropped open. She had seen the milling masses of the enemy and the hundreds of campfires now in front of her from the walls, but being here, a

stone’s throw from them, she got a real sense of the immensity of the force against them. Thousands of creatures, including some humans, spread across the landscape. The flickering firelight threw shadows across the bodies of the besiegers. Most were humanoid, obviously having been mutated from humans with qualities added from animals or other creatures. There was fur, feathers, leathery skin, scales, and what seemed mixtures of two or more of these coverings. It was, in a word, intimidating. Even worse, the mutants had faces, heads, and limbs of different animals. Here was a feathered head with a beak, there was a snout and fur, and over there some monsters prowled about on four legs, though the front legs looked sickeningly like human arms on some of them. Chisin Ling shook her head. She was letting her thoughts wander, something she could not afford during this mission. She turned her attention instead to the habits of the enemies she saw. They seemed to congregate according to their animal natures. Wolf creatures stayed together, bird creatures seemed to stay in a group, and it was the same for those with other attributes. She wondered if that information could be useful. Dr. Walt could probably tell her. She and her five shadows moved on. The captain thought back to the conversation

with General Kemp earlier. “Tonight’s mission has two purposes,” he said. “The first is to scout out the camp, study its configuration, and figure out if there is any useful information to be found. The second is to make things uncomfortable for the enemy. Make them see that they are not welcome and they are not safe camping on our doorstep.” “Yes sir,” she had responded. Danaba Kemp looked thoughtful. “And a third objective should probably be added. Don’t die.” “That’s affirmative, sir,” Chisin Ling said. As she circled the camp, she noted how it was laid out and what types of creatures made up the army. She saw surprisingly few pure humans, but then realized that they would probably be in the center of the camp where conditions were better and more of the officers were safely nestled. The mutants were merely chattel for the war machine. After almost an hour of collecting what information she could without actually entering the camp, she was ready for her second objective. The other team should be in place, so she motioned to her soldiers to settle deeper into the trees to wait. She didn’t have to wait long. A loud bang pierced the night, and light flared from the camp farther down the line of the forest. Screams and yells followed immediately, only to be drowned out by more explosions. The captain

couldn’t see details at that distance, but creatures were scurrying around like ants from a kicked hill. She smiled under her mask. Taking out a round object, Chisin Ling smoothed the long, flexible tail of the item—the “fuse,” Emerius Dinn had called it—and reached into one of her pockets. She drew out the thick leather pouch padded with cloth and exposed the hard container within. She removed the cap to reveal the small coal inside, still glowing faintly. Blowing on the coal lightly caused it to flare up. The fuse she touched to it, just lightly, and it began to hiss. With careful aim, she drew back her arm and threw the item and its burning fuse toward the camp. The creatures in the camp in front of her were rousing themselves because of the noise, but it was the milling type of action of a crowd wanting to see something of interest, not that of an army preparing for battle. Heads swiveled to the other side of the camp where noise and a few loud bangs and flares of light punctuated the quiet darkness. All that changed when the fuse on the item Chisin Ling threw reached the main body of the device. It exploded with deafening force, tearing apart the closest creatures and immediately increasing the urgency with which the others were moving. Several more explosions crashed around the camp nearby, as Chisin’s squad threw more of the

things called “bombs.” A few more tossed devices, and then she and her five soldiers slipped deeper into the forest and began to make their way back toward the edges of the encampment, careful not to go too deeply into the forest lest they be attacked by some of the denizens rumored to live there. When Emerius Dinn had suggested his “explosives,” Chisin Ling was skeptical. Gourds filled with powders made from urine and bat guano held no interest for her. She was more concerned with weapons, things that could be wielded to defeat one’s enemy. The first demonstration made her reconsider. The bomb he had made, smaller than the ones she was using tonight, blew apart a heavy wooden chest, sending shards flying in all directions. “I can also add small stones or bits of metal so that when it explodes, it shoots the projectiles in all directions, causing even more injury.” Chisin Ling had many questions, but she no longer questioned the little items’ usefulness. Emerius was bored. He took his turns at wall duty, helping to repel some of the many attacks the invaders mounted, but he needed to keep busy. So he made several dozen of the small bombs for Chisin Ling. She had known it was only a matter of time until she convinced Danaba Kemp to give her new stealth unit a try. When he did, she would give him a display that would cement her squad’s place

in the Republic’s forces. As she and her squad ghosted through the forest and back toward where she could cross the barren stretch of land to the secret door to Whitehall, she grinned madly. This small attack would make the besiegers stop and think. It definitely would.

CHAPTER 39

S

am watched as the others entered the room behind. They were two layers into the big circle of the keep and they hadn’t seen anyone or anything yet. He was uneasy about it. The chamber they were in was similar to the others they had passed through. It was longer than it was wide, with a heavy wooden door at either end. In the middle of one of the long walls was another door, all three identical. There were a few chairs scattered about a long table in the middle of the room, and books and maps sat on a table. The bookshelf lining one of the shorter walls, beside the doorway, had spaces where the tabled books obviously belonged. The maps seemed to be of the areas between where the keep was, and the areas around Whitehall. Sam fingered them. They weren’t the

best maps he’d seen. The army had probably taken finer with them on their march. “Why isn’t there anyone in the keep?” he asked. “The number of sentries on the walls seemed a little low, but I figured that was just because most of Dal’s forces were with the main army at Whitehall. With what we’ve seen so far— or, rather, what we haven’t seen—it seems like the entire keep is abandoned.” “Do not worry yourself overmuch, Sam,” Rindu said. “As you say, many of the soldiers and creatures are probably with the army. We have perhaps been lucky, or had good timing, as we traversed the keep. I can sense that there is life yet in this building, though I cannot tell you more than that. It is said, ‘Do not wish for the battle; it will come soon enough.’” Sam nodded and went to the door on the other side of the room. Before he could open it, the latch moved and the door swung inward. He found himself face-toface with two human guards holding chains attached to collars on two mutant creatures on all fours like dogs. Sam was first to move. He jerked the door out of the man’s hand, grabbed him and his companion by their leather breastplates, and pulled them into the room, past Sam and into the center of the room, where the rest of the party surrounded them. The

creatures, surprised but apparently trained to submit when their leashes were pulled, came through the door after them. By the time Sam closed the door and turned around, the men were unconscious and both of the creatures lay unmoving on the floor. Ix pulled one of her ring daggers from the base of the skull of one of the mutants, and Emerius cleaned his knife on the fur of the other. Its head was barely attached, a small flap of skin the only thing holding it on. “There,” Ix said, “are you happy? Now you’ve seen guards.” Sam looked again at the humans. “You did just knock them out, right? They’re not dead?” “They are not dead, Sam,” Rindu said. “I believe we can bind them and gag them. The risk is small that they will sound an alarm.” “Okay, good.” Sam wondered who had knocked the men out. It was only a second or two from when he pulled them in and when he turned back around. He looked at Rindu, Nalia, Torim, and Regi. They all lacked expression, as if they had just been standing around waiting for a half an hour. Well, all except Regi. She had the ever-present mischievous sparkle in her eyes. The others bound and gagged the soldiers as Sam slowly opened the door to look into the hallway. He didn’t see anyone. He was either quick

enough in bringing the men and creatures inside the room, or there was no one around in any case. Either way, it was good. At least he felt better about how eerily quiet the keep was. It wasn’t that he wanted combat. But it seemed too easy, like some sort of trap. It still could be. Glancing back at the rest of the party and seeing that they were ready, he left the room and crossed the hallway to the closest door on the other side. His eyes darted from side to side, up and down the corridor, looking for soldiers, but there weren’t any. He tried the latch. The door was unlocked. With barely a thought, he opened it and walked into the room. Right into a group of more than a dozen of the mutant creatures. Sam went into action, breaking Ahimiro into its two halves and rushing toward the creatures to allow those behind him to enter the room. It was a large chamber, probably twenty feet wide and fifteen feet long, but it seemed crowded with bodies. He attacked a knot of three first. They were surprised at his sudden appearance and more surprised by his attack, but their hesitation lasted only a few seconds. Time enough for Sam to strike one on the back of the head with one stick and the throat with the other simultaneously, and then move on to the creature to his right and deliver a backhanded strike to the throat while jabbing his

other stick into the mutant’s eyes. Both would be out of the fight for the time being. The third monster finally realized what was happening and struck out at Sam with its claws. All of the enemies in the room seemed to be some sort of wolf and human mix. They were covered in fur, had strange luminous eyes, and attacked with front claws and fangs. Now that Sam was engaged in combat and not distracted by surprise, the smell of the room hit his nose like a punch. It was the smell of musky, unwashed fur and the gamey animal smell of predators. It threatened to sicken him, but he pushed it from his mind and focused on the combat. Rindu and Nalia had entered the room and engaged a few of the creatures in combat. The others were close behind them. The one remaining mutant in front of Sam was joined by another, both of them closing on him. In his peripheral vision, he could see another two angling toward him, but they wouldn’t reach him for a few more seconds. Sam sidestepped a swipe from the claw of one of his attackers. He parried the limb with the stick in his left hand while striking the jaw of the other creature with an upward strike with the other weapon. The impact of the stick slammed the monster’s jaw closed with a clack as it tried to bite at him. He wasn’t sure if the strike broke its jaw, but by the whine it emitted, Sam knew it hurt.

Without pausing, Sam struck hard with his sticks: outward strike with the right stick, inward strike with the left, and then an inward strike with the right, all to the exact same spot on its torso. The ribs gave on the second strike, and at least two broke on the third. Another blindingly fast downward and diagonal strike with the left stick sent the creature sprawling. Turning toward the creature still dazed from his strike to its jaw, Sam rained quick and powerful blows to the head, four in rapid succession. When the creature raised its arms to ward off the blows, Sam shifted his weight, rotated his hips, and jabbed one of the sticks hard into its eyes. A few quick strikes to the abdomen so it lowered its arms again and Sam whirled, striking its throat with a left outward strike, right inward strike, and another of the same movement while spinning in a circle to lend power to the weapons from his momentum. There was a sickening, crunching sound as the creature’s throat was ruined. It dropped to the ground, wheezing and pawing at its throat, not understanding why it could no longer breathe. Sam stopped his turning, sticks at the ready in front of him, assessing which attacker he would engage next. There were none left. All of the creatures were on the ground, some obviously dead and some on their way there. All of

the other party members were in the room now, the door closed. “Did we make a lot of noise?” he asked anyone who would answer. “No,” Torim Jet said. “It was not loud, and the walls are thick. I closed the door as soon as I entered the room. I do not believe we have been heard. We shall see, however, within the next minute or two.” “Was anyone hurt?” Sam asked. He was greeted with blank looks as if he’d asked something ridiculous. “I almost turned my ankle when I stepped on one of the first monsters you took down,” Emerius said with a frown. “Sloppy, sloppy. Try to be more organized and tidy in the future.” His face twitched as if it wanted to smile, but it didn’t. “Sorry,” Sam said, “I’ll try to do better.” He did smile. A few minutes and two dead human guards later, the little party gathered in front of a large set of double doors. “Only two guards seems a pitiful defense for something important,” Ix said, “but it’s obvious that this is not an empty room. Shall we see if Chetra Dal is home?” Sam noticed the others only paying slight attention to the door. Their eyes were doing as his were: scanning the corridor on both sides of them,

looking for sentries or patrols. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s finish this.” He put his hand on the door latch, but Rindu laid his own hand on Sam’s. “Sam,” he said quietly. “If our foe is indeed Master Chetra Dal, I would speak with him. May I have the honor of entering first?” “Of course, Master Rindu,” Sam answered, stepping back from the door. “Master Jet, would you do likewise?” The white-haired Zouy put his hands together in salute in front of him and bowed to Sam. “I would. Thank you, Sam.” Rindu looked to Torim Jet, nodded slightly, and opened the door. Sam caught a flash of movement and spun to the side. Rindu was standing there, as calmly as if he were in the doorway of his own room at the fortress, a crossbow bolt in his hand. He darted into the room, Torim Jet following him. Sam was right on their heels, and as the other two moved out of his line of sight, his mouth dropped open. The room was some type of laboratory, with glass vessels of liquid and tubing everywhere. Cages of different sizes were scattered about, as were tables that looked all-too-familiar, like the ones they had seen in Baron Tingai’s fortress with failed mutations strapped to them. There were what looked like crude machines, too, with pumps and

gears and tubing going to and from them. This was a mutant factory. A thin, lanky man with greasy, unkempt hair was picking up another crossbow and raising it toward them. Around him were at least twenty soldiers, big men with boiled leather armor and swords upraised. In front of them were at least as many snarling creatures of all shapes and sizes. Sam had no doubt that this was Baron Tingai, the one responsible for the mutant creatures they had become so familiar with. “Kill them all,” Tingai said in a conversational tone as he fired the bolt at Rindu.

CHAPTER 40

I

t was as if everyone in the room was frozen until that one crossbow bolt went into motion. When it did, it acted like a trigger that spurred everyone to move at once. Rindu was already in motion when the quarrel left the crossbow. Not wanting any of the party behind him to be injured, he spun counterclockwise and brought his hand up, paralleling the projectile coming at the space he just vacated. As it passed, he reached out and snatched it out of the air, allowing the momentum of it to spin his body in a full circle. He released the bolt back toward Tingai. Unfortunately, one of the mutant creatures was jostled by its fellows into the path of the deadly projectile. It struck the monkey creature in the face, just below its left eye. It dropped to the

ground, allowing Rindu to see Tingai’s pale face filled with shock. The scientist knew how close he had just come to dying. As Baron Tingai headed toward the back of the room, the mutations all rushed to attack, the soldiers crowding behind them to find openings to do the same. A handful of men and women had bows or crossbows and were picking targets, trying not to injure their fellows. An archer in front and to the right of Rindu sprouted an arrow in her throat, and her own nocked arrow spun off crazily as she fell, embedding itself in another soldier’s rear end. He yelped and jumped, dropping his sword and leaving off all attempts at getting to the enemies. Emerius Dinn must have been be targeting the foes with ranged weapons. That was good. A wolf creature, a bird creature, and two men with swords came at Rindu. He pulled in a breath, drew his swords, separated them, and waited for his attackers to get within range. In the crowded room, they could come to him. By now most of the party was familiar with the different types of mutated creatures Tingai had at his disposal. The types and, more importantly, the characteristics and abilities possessed by each. With this in mind, Rindu moved to attack the bird creature first, the most dangerous of the group. The Zouy ducked under a clumsy horizontal

slash of one of the swords, slapped away the downward strike with the other, and took a half step to his left. Right into the path of the bird mutant, which was in the process of swinging one of its talons down at Rindu’s head. His movement ruined the attack’s range, and the monk deflected it harmlessly away from him with his other sword. Before the bird could move, Rindu changed the direction of his parry, rotating his wrist, and struck the side of the monster’s beak with the pommel of his sword. There was a cracking sound and the creature yelped in pain. With a flick of his wrist, Rindu brought the blade around to bite deeply into his opponent’s neck. The strike lacked sufficient power to remove its head, but as blood began to gush from the wound, the monk knew the creature would not last long. Utilizing his rotational motion, Rindu sent out a backhanded blow with the sword in his right hand, landing a shallow cut on the wolf creature’s claw, causing it to pull its limb back. At the same time, the monk twirled the other sword behind his head to push aside another sword strike aimed at his neck. He continued the motion and snapped the sword out in front of him to remove the wolf’s other claw, which it had not pulled back. He reversed his rotation and struck out twice, once with either sword, to cut off the other arm of the wolf, leaving it with no claws with which to attack.

Rindu leaned to his right, allowing a sword thrust to narrowly miss skewering him through the back of his neck. He almost casually threw out a powerful rear kick, feeling more than hearing several ribs break. He pivoted on his other foot, spun halfway around to face the two humans, and whipped both swords out, one to deflect the second man’s sword and the other to batter it away with such force that the swordsman stumbled and almost lost his grip on his weapon. Continuing his spin, Rindu struck at the stumbling man with a backhand strike, an inward strike with the other sword, and swung his leg in a large crescent to knock the sword arm aside. An inside crescent kick with the other leg contacted the side of the man’s head. There was a loud crack and the man dropped to the ground, his neck broken. The remaining man could hardly hold his sword because of the pain of his broken ribs. Rindu put both of his swords in his left hand, lunged in to knock the man’s sword aside, and calmly struck him on the side of his head with an open-palm strike. The man’s eyes rolled up and he dropped to the ground, his sword clattering to the stone. The bird creature had stopped twitching, and the wolf creature moved sluggishly as it died from blood loss. Rindu saluted it and then, quick as lightning, struck in exactly the same place on the

monster’s neck with one sword and then the other, cleanly severing its head and ending its misery. Rindu flicked the blood off his blades and looked around. Not that he needed to. He could feel within his aura what he was seeing. The creatures and soldiers were all dead or dying, maybe a few unconscious, or were being beaten by his friends. It was a quick battle, and he did not see any injuries on his allies. A door at the rear of the room clicked closed. “Baron Tingai has escaped,” he said to the others, but they were already looking at the door. After a second’s pause, they all broke for it. Emerius Dinn made it through the door first, Sam right on his heels. Rindu came through next. The room was larger than the previous room and, like the other, it was full of equipment and tables. Baron Tingai was unlocking the chains on one of four massive creatures. The other three were almost to Sam and Emerius. These mutations were different than the others, though the party had encountered their like previously. They were the size of two men, had four arms, and appeared to have armor plating embedded in their skin. Emerius Dinn, eyes going wide and nearly dropping an arrow on the way to the bowstring, fired off two arrows while trying to step to the side. Both projectiles struck the chest of the closest

monster and bounced as if they had struck stone. Sam, thinking clearly enough to move to the side to allow room for the others to enter, thrust Ahimiro, in staff form, at the face of one of his opponents. There was a dull thunking sound and the creature’s head shifted to the side, but there was no apparent damage. It reached for Sam with two of its hands, but Sam ducked under them and moved out of range as Rindu came closer. Tingai backed up until he was against the wall, eyes wide and watching what his specimens would do. The others of Sam’s party poured into the room. Two of the four-armed creatures attacked Sam, one went after Emerius, and the other had seen the newcomers and was stomping its way toward them. “Their eyes and their backs are vulnerable,” Sam called out. He wasn’t sure if the monstrosities understood Kasmali or not, but even if they did, everyone knowing their weakness would help shorten the combat. Rindu joined Sam in fighting off the two mutants trying to attack him. Sam feinted with his staff and then slipped to the side while Rindu came in with his swords and delivered precise strikes to the vulnerable areas, places where the armored skin was not as thick. There weren’t many of them. The area where the creatures’ arms bent and the backs of the knees were softer than the rest of their

bodies, and Rindu targeted them with the precision of a surgeon. Soon, both of the creatures were bleeding heavily and losing control of their limbs. Sam struck at other places on their bodies, such as their ears and their eyes. He didn’t do a lot of damage, but they were becoming more and more enraged, swinging wildly at him as Rindu pummeled and taunted them. Rindu saw from the corner of his eye that Sam was pouring rohw into Ahimiro and had formed one of its ends into a sharp point. The next time one of the four-armed behemoths came at him, he leapt up and jabbed the pointed end of his staff into the creature’s eye. It howled and thrashed for a second until the point reached its brain, and then it went still. He and Rindu finished off the other one quickly after that. When Rindu watched the other of his opponents fall, he looked around to see how the others were faring. Emerius had put several arrows into the eye of one of the other creatures, and the last foe dropped to the ground. Reginia, Nalia, and Ru Wilkes had somehow managed to cut into its throat so deeply that its head was almost off. Tingai looked frantic. His eyes darted from side to side, looking for a way to escape. The members of the party slowly moved toward him, a semicircle surrounding him and closing in. “Wait!” Tingai cried out. “Just wait a moment. I

think we have a misunderstanding. We don’t need to be enemies. Let’s just discuss things like rational—” An arrow flew at the man and scratched his face, leaving a shallow cut. The shaft bounced off the stone wall behind him. Rindu looked at Emerius. He did not like what he saw. The archer’s eyes burned with hate. The Zouy frowned at him. He had never seen the man miss a target. He had meant to graze the scientist. Tingai put his hand to his face and brought it back down with blood on it. When he saw it, he swooned as if he would pass out, but only stumbled and regained his feet. “You have nothing to say that we wish to hear,” Emerius Dinn said, releasing another arrow that cut the other side of Tingai’s face. “No, wait,” the desperate man said. “I’ll give you anything. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Please, just listen to me. I’m too valuable to kill.” “Was my brother too valuable to kill?” Emerius said, shooting another arrow that cut Tingai’s scalp. “Were the citizens of my village too valuable to kill? Were the hapaki?” Two more arrows punctuated what the archer said, causing other minor wounds. Tingai was frantic. He started to babble. “Please. You, Zouy, you can’t let him do this to me,

to torture me. You have honor. Stop him.” “He is correct,” Rindu said to Emerius. “He truly deserves death for all that he has done, but do not torment him. Kill him and let us go find his master.” Tingai’s eyes widened so much they looked like lanterns. “No, no. Please, don’t kill me. As a show of good faith, I will tell you that Chetra Dal has gone to commune with the artifacts. He’s not here. He will be back within the week, though. I can help you set a trap for him. Just give me a chance.” Rindu looked at Torim Jet and then at the others. The other master nodded. He believed the man was telling the truth about his master not being in the fortress. Baron Tingai took the nod to mean that they had agreed to spare him. “Yes,” he jumped on the thought. “I can help you to set a trap. There may still be some of my creatures in the fortress. We can use them. They’re expendable.” Before Rindu could respond, he heard the twang of a bowstring and the whistle of several arrows in flight. The first took Tingai in the shoulder, spinning him around. The second arrow scored a deep gash across the man’s chest. The third and fourth caused shallow wounds on the man’s backside, causing him to jump up and forward. The last caused a large glass container, almost as tall as Tingai himself, to shatter and spray

its contents all over the scientist. Rindu looked to Emerius and saw a look of satisfaction. He did not know why the hunter was pleased with himself. Looking back to Tingai, he saw that the man had landed face down in a puddle of the liquid, a sickly greenish fluid that was as thick as honey. He screamed and beat at his chest as the ichor was absorbed into his wound. Before the eyes of the party, the cuts exposed to the liquid began to change. They discolored as the blood mingled with the green, then became a dull brown. The brown changed into a dull yellow, then a bright yellow, then a color so bright it looked as if it was glowing. And then the skin itself began to change. The wounds deteriorated, looking like they were rotting. Skin sloughed off and new tissue grew. It had the consistency of leather, but leather that had been soaking in water for a long time and had been ruined. In places, it grew so thin that it burst, expelling dull purple fluid. All the while, Tingai screamed. Baron Tingai looked as if he was changing into one of his mutants, but in an uncontrolled way. The party stared wide-eyed as his body convulsed and morphed. It looked like it was fighting the changes and the battle was tearing its tissues apart. Rindu took a step toward Tingai, but Emerius put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t end his agony,” Emerius said. It was not commanding, but pleading. “It won’t last long now, but I want him to experience what he did to so many people, so many hapaki, and so many other creatures over the years. Just give me this, monk? Inoria deserves at least this.” Rindu looked to Sam. Sam nodded gravely, turned, and walked out of the room. Nalia was looking at Rindu, her swords ready to strike, but he simply sighed and followed Sam. The others came after them. All except Emerius.

“THANK YOU ,” Emerius whispered as he watched the others leave. He turned to Tingai, the man’s body racked with seizures, his breathing labored, whistling through airways that were trying to change. “This is only a small repayment of the suffering you have caused,” Emerius said to the fallen scientist. “If I could make this last for a thousand years, it wouldn’t be enough.” He stepped closer, eyes locked on Tingai’s crazed orbs. He set down a single arrow, two feet from the monster Tingai was becoming. “It’s a mercy you don’t deserve, but if you can manage to use it, good luck to you.” He turned and walked away, knowing that whatever

happened, Baron Tingai would be dead within minutes. The party searched the fortress, but Chetra Dal was not there. They encountered a few patrols and some servants, but for the most part the place had been emptied of people, all of them with the army in their siege of Whitehall. “I do not know exactly when the master will return,” one of the servants they questioned said as he wrung his hands nervously. “I believe he said he would be gone for two weeks, and that was just over a week ago. He does not confide his comings and goings with one such as me.” It was the same thing the other three servants they questioned had said. “Go,” Emerius said to the man. “Go to your chambers and don’t come out until evening, or we may mistake you for someone who needs killing.” The man scurried off, darting looks at them every few feet until he was out of sight. Emerius sighed. He had thought killing Tingai would bring him peace, or at least joy. Vengeance was served, and the man who caused so much suffering was dead, but the hole in the hunter’s chest would not be filled. He still felt as if part of him was missing. Several parts, in fact. “You are finding that vengeance does not satisfy you as you thought it would,” Rindu said. Emerius jumped. He hadn’t even heard the man

come up to him. He must really be out of sorts to be surprised like that. “Yeah, well,” Emerius answered, “Tingai needed killing. It’s done now. He’ll never hurt anyone again.” “Revenge does not satisfy the heart, does not bring peace. As it is said, ‘Vengeance makes the heart grow hot, but peace can only be found within oneself.’” The monk walked away, letting Emerius think on what he had said. Crazy old man. He was right, though. Nothing would bring Inoria and Ancha back. He had to find peace within himself. If such a thing were possible.

CHAPTER 41

T

he creatures threw themselves at the walls, literally climbing over each other to try to get to the top. The archers took their time, aimed, and fired their arrows only when they were sure they would score a vital hit. “Don’t waste arrows,” Danaba Kemp yelled at them. “We’re running short and have to conserve. Kill the bastards, but make sure you hit your target every time.” It had been like this for days. Twice, three times, or more each day, the mutant hordes had attacked the walls. The besiegers had built a long platform from the wood they cultivated from the Undead Forest. Though the trees there were twisted and tough, there were enough of the enemy forces to complete the work of piecing together shorter logs and rough boards into something they could

carry up the winding path to Whitehall and place over the chasm in front of the drawbridge. It was long enough for them to cross the space and get to the small area in front of the gate and walls. At first, the defenders had shot fire arrows onto the makeshift bridge to try to burn it down. The wood was so green that it did not catch fire easily, and groups of the enemy waited with water and sand to douse any fires that caught. Then the soldiers of the Republic took to pouring oil onto the bridge and lighting that on fire. The enemy fire brigades were able to put those fires out, too before structural damage had been done to their platform. It was so thick that even many oil attacks didn’t weaken it enough for it to crumble. It seemed that someone in Chetra Dal’s camp had thought the project through. In the end, the defenders stopped trying to burn the bridge because they were running low on arrows and oil. The attacks were relentless. Though hundreds of the mutant creatures died, it didn’t seem to affect the overall numbers. Danaba Kemp was starting to get nervous. “I don’t know how much longer we can hold them off,” he said to Dr. Walt and Nicole Wepp. The two of them had come to the wall to see the state of things, against his suggestions and better judgment. “You better go back down now before the fighting gets to us.”

“We have to hold out until Sam and the others get back,” Dr. Walt yelled over the sounds of clashing weapons and screaming. “If they return with the news that Chetra Dal is dead, it could make all the difference.” “It won’t make a difference to you if you’re dead from getting caught up in the fighting. You need—” Danaba Kemp pushed Dr. Walt and Nicole to the wall of the battlements with his right arm as he tried to draw the sword from his back with his left. One of the creatures bowled into the general and bore him to the ground, clawing and biting as Danaba tried to free his blade from the scabbard. “Go!” he yelled at them, elbowing the monster in the face and wriggling to free his sword arm. “Go!” The black creature on top of him went limp and Danaba Kemp threw its body off him, wheeling to face the three other mutants that had gotten through the line of his men and were rushing to attack him. Nicole hastily pulled free the two knives she had thrown from the creature’s eye and neck, cleaning them as best she could on the corpse’s fur. She looked like she would be ill. Kemp gave her a sidelong look. “First time you’ve killed?” “Y-yes,” she said faintly.

“It’s worse when it’s a person. I’m sorry you had to experience it. Now get the hell out of here before—” The three creatures had reached him and he couldn’t spare the focus to speak. At least they’re the generic kind, he thought, and not those crazy half animal mutants. He sidestepped as best he could on the narrow battlement and slashed downward at the first creature as it passed. It howled, twisted, and came at him again while he was knocking aside the claws of another. The third sprouted a knife in its eye and dropped to the ground, twitching. Three more quick cuts, and the other two monsters were also down on the stone, bleeding and dying, or already dead. “Thanks for that,” he said, tipping his triangular hat to Nicole. “Now get Dr. Walt and get down to where it’s safe. Sam will kill me if he finds out I brought you into battle.” Nicole narrowed her eyes as she helped Dr. Walt up. The old scholar had hit the wall hard and rebounded to the stone floor of the battlement. “Don’t you worry about Sam. I can take care of him. Are you okay, Dr. Walt? Here, let me help you up.” Danaba chuckled. “I know you can, Nicole, but I would feel better if you two were in the keep. You’re too important to the Republic to be playing

soldier.” He paused. “Please?” “Oh, fine.” She retrieved her knife and cleaned it as before on the creature’s fur, grimacing and becoming paler by the second. “I think I may have to go find a secluded place to be sick anyway. Let’s go, Dr. Walt.” The two hurried down the closest set of stairs and disappeared, Nicole rushing out ahead of the doctor, no doubt to find that secluded place she was looking for. Danaba thought for a moment about what the woman had gone through since she had come to Gythe. And he thought of his first kill, all those years ago. That one wasn’t a monster, but a man. She would be fine, but she wouldn’t look at the world the same way ever again. He sighed. “Turkin, what the hell happened there?” he yelled as he turned toward the men who had just finished off a small group of creatures that had made it over the wall. “We almost lost the leader of our new government. Your job is to stop them from getting past you, man.” General Danaba Kemp went and checked on his soldiers to make sure they were holding up. It was barely midday, and they had already seen dozens of attackers make it over the wall. How much longer could they hold out? He hoped Sam got back soon with some good news and some miraculous magic. If not, he might witness the end

of the Republic before it even got started.

C HISIN L ING and her squad of special soldiers made their way silently through the shadows around the walls and toward the cliff where the besiegers’ bridge lay. She scoffed mentally at how lazy the creatures and their commanders were. There was no guard set on the platform they had placed over the chasm. That was their mistake, and an opportunity for the soldiers of the Republic. The black-clad figures made their way to the edge of the bridge. The captain could barely see the handful of her men skirting the wood planking and disappearing over the edge and she did the same on her side. A fog had rolled in, giving the entire place an eerie feeling. They were using a set of tools that had been used years ago when the Sapsyra had breached the walls and tried to kill the Gray Man. Their attempt on the villain’s life didn’t end well, but the metal hooks they used to get to the walls worked as well as anything could have. They had been gathered from where the women had left them and put into a storage room. Nalia had shown them to Chisin Ling one day while telling her the story of how they were used.

“We used these harnesses with the hooks attached to get up the path to the fortress without being seen,” Nalia told her, putting one of the harnesses on to demonstrate. The mass of straps supported the Sapsyr around the backs of both legs and tied tightly around her waist. Two long lengths of leather strap came from the front of the harness. They had metal hooks with handles attached to them. “We would put one hook on the lip of the stone parapet like this.” Nalia put the sharp point of the hook on the edge of a table next to her. “Then we would hang from it. When we were ready to move, we would pull up on the handle—”she raised the hook above her head and pretended to pull herself up on it “—and then place the other hook two or three feet away.” She raised the hook in her right hand up and out a few feet and then pretended to set the hook in an imaginary edge. “Then,” she continued, “we could rest or we could pull up on the newly placed hook and move the first next to it. We would continue this way, inching up the wall unseen from the path or the battlements of the fortress until we got to the drawbridge, which was down. Crossing the drawbridge was done the same way.” Chisin had nodded her head. “That was clever. Did it work? Did you get to the main walls?” “We did.” Nalia’s expression slipped for a

moment and the captain could see her memories were not good. She knew the story of the slaughter of the Sapsyra once they breached the walls. She didn’t press Nalia for more information. Her mind had spun with different ways she might use the hooks the Sapsyra had made. Tonight’s plan was something she had come upon quite suddenly while watching the mutants swarm across to attack the walls. Chisin Ling set her hooks and lowered herself below the level of the besiegers’ bridge. She moved over ten feet, inching along as Nalia had described, realizing that it was quite a feat of strength to lift herself with one hand like that. She was glad she had only chosen the strongest half dozen of her squad to actually use the hooks. When all six were in place, three on either side, they unstrapped the bundles they had brought with them and began to secure them to the underside of the bridge. This was not as easy as she had thought it would be. The bundles weren’t heavy, but hanging in empty air by two hooks attached to straps made the manipulation of them awkward. The captain looked down between her straps and saw nothing but blackness. It could have been only a few feet, but she knew it was two hundred feet to the ground, certain death if she fell. She gulped and focused on the wood in front of her. She was not

fond of heights. The captain could barely see the other three hanging from the wood planking. She raised her hand to them, made a gesture with three fingers to let them know they would all act simultaneously at the count of three, and removed an object from the pouch hanging from her shoulder. With a quick, swiping movement of the three fingers, she let them know to begin their count. On three, they all acted. Using only the strength of her arms, she swung what was in her hand up against the bottom of the bridge. It was a metal device, not unlike a hand holding an imaginary apple on its fingertips. The “fingers” of the object were sharpened and barbed, and when it struck the wood, it made a dull sound almost like a hammer tap against a tree trunk. The other three sounds melded with hers and she was surprised that it died immediately without carrying. Maybe it was the fog surrounding them. Pulling down on the object, she smiled. It would hold fast. On the bottom of the anchor was a solid loop with a hole the size of her index finger. She removed a stiff metal rod from her sack and fitted it through the ring. When it had been inserted exactly halfway into the hole, it clicked and was held fast. The last part was more awkward than the rest. Chisin Ling and the others removed two small packages, one at a time. They were rigid containers with chemicals Emerius Dinn had put there. They

slid onto the rod and were held firmly against the rough wood of the planking above. The captain had put one of her packages onto the rod and was pulling the second from her sack when she heard the noise. She waved her hand to the others to freeze and they did, having kept her in their peripheral vision the entire time. A light scuffing sounded on the bridge above them. It was so small a noise that she wasn’t sure at first if she had even heard it. The wind whistled softly in her ear as it made its lazy way through the chasm. It was not even strong enough to disturb the fog much more than to swirl it, but it was enough to make her wonder if she had really detected a sound or if it was just a rustle of the breeze. There. The sound came again, almost directly above her. It was accompanied by sniffing this time. She pictured one of the wolf-mutants in her mind and remained perfectly still except for the slow swaying the wind caused. Fearing even to breathe normally, she took shallow, slow breaths and waited. There was more scraping on the bridge above. It was coming closer. Soon, it would see the hooks hanging over the edge of the bridge and it would look down. If that happened, it would rouse the entire camp of creatures just a few hundred feet away on the main path to the fortress. There was

not enough room for the mutants next to the gates, and that area was easily within bow range in any case, so they had all congregated on the pathway on the opposite side of the chasm. Chisin thought of her options. She could motion the group to continue their work and probably be discovered. She could wait and see if the creature left without seeing anything. She could try to kill it without it making any noise. None of these options sounded good. She was willing to die to complete this mission. Her best chance of completing it was to hurry and finish setting up the objects and hope they could finish their job before they were ripped to shreds. She was just about to motion the others, their eyes wide and white in the night, when the sound of the scraping stopped. Right above her. The sniffing grew louder, and she knew it had seen the hooks and was trying to catch a scent of them. There was nothing for it. They had to finish now and hope by some miracle they would survive. A muffled twang filled the air, and a softer sound of sharpened metal entering flesh. A large, dark body fell past her, already still, and disappeared below. She sighed. The others she had set to guard had seen the creature. She thanked her luck and motioned in a circle with one finger to the other three in her squad to finish their jobs. She could

already hear movement in the camp, someone or something having heard the twang of the bow. It was time to leave. After finishing up by placing the other package on the rod, she moved her hooks quickly toward the cliff. So quickly, in fact, that she had to wait for her companion to get to the side and be pulled up by the others. She finally made it to the cliff, was pulled up, and had her feet on solid ground. Blessed, beautiful, solid ground. She wanted to roll onto her back and just lie there enjoying the solidity, but loud footsteps echoed on the wood of the bridge, and her squad started to fire arrows into them. But they had one more thing to do. The packages had thin, strong string attached to them. The four who had set them all pulled at the captain’s gesture. And then they turned and ran. Emerius Dinn had improved the initial design of his devices. When the string was pulled, it removed a small, flat piece of wood that kept two sets of chemicals from each other, allowing them to mix. That mixture ate through another blockage to another set of materials. In the end, it took approximately five seconds for the reaction to start getting violent. The packages were not only what the hunter called “bombs,” but they also had the useful quality

of spreading a sheet of flame over an area, flame that was difficult to put out because the liquid sprayed burned ferociously. The effect was, Chisin Ling thought, worth the risk. In three separate explosions one right after another, parts of the bridge were destroyed in an instant. Even though the planking was still in place when the smoke cleared, it was weakened and burning so energetically that nothing could put it out. Arrows flew from the battlements, killing some of the creatures and slowing others. Chisin and her five ran for all they were worth toward the gates. Even now, she saw one of them swinging slightly open to receive them. The squad member to her left went down, and she looked over to see why. He tucked into a roll and came up, but immediately went down again, sliding across the hard ground. He had some sort of spear in his leg. “Well, that’s a new one,” the captain muttered as she turned to help him, drawing her swords. The mutants never used weapons. There must have been some humans with them. Three more of her men turned with her to help out. In the darkness and madness, she didn’t even know which of her men had taken the projectile. She thought it was Marcus. He had two small

children and a wife waiting in the keep. She would not go and tell them their father and husband was not coming back. The archers on the battlements were firing arrows as quickly as they could, but they didn’t want to strike Chisin and her squad, so when the creatures were within twenty feet of them, they were no longer in danger from above. That left a good ten right in front of them and more coming across the bridge. It looked like they were in for a desperate battle. Looking from side to side, the captain saw that all five members of her squad were gathered protectively around their wounded comrade. It was Marcus, and he was standing mostly on one leg with his sword out. He would not die without a fight. A fierce pride glowed in Chisin Ling over that. She had hand-picked each of the soldiers in her command, and Marcus had seen the most improvement of any of them. She turned briefly to her men and saluted them with her swords. They all returned the salute, Marcus even coming to attention to do so, though his face pinched with pain. Then they turned to the enemies charging at them. “Protect Marcus,” she yelled, “and protect the gate. Both must be preserved.” Her squad yelled in agreement, the two with bows roaring as they fired arrow after arrow into

the mutants coming at them. And then the monsters were there. Chisin Ling cast about her with both swords, lopping off limbs and opening up torsos like an armed whirlwind. The creatures that had reached them were the garden variety mutants, with abilities enhanced beyond normal men, but not particularly dangerous or hardy when compared with the more specialized creatures. As she dodged a set of claws, sliced upward to open the creature’s belly, and ran another through with her other sword, she thought that maybe they would survive after all. That would be a bonus. Then a loud crashing sound boomed around them, and in a flash of sparks and flame, the bridge finally broke. The two halves slid off the cliff and plummeted toward the ground, taking dozens of the creatures with it. The captain let out a long breath. At least their mission was successful. Even if she died, there was that. In her momentary lapse of focus, one of her enemies scored her face with a slash of its claws. If her reflexes were not so superbly honed that she rolled her head with the blow, it would have been a fatal strike. As it was, her left eye filled with blood and she wondered if she would be blind on that side. Or if she would survive at all. As she twisted to the side, she brought her sword up and slashed at the arm that had struck

her. The creature howled until she punched her other sword through its throat and ended the sound abruptly. There were only perhaps a dozen of the creatures left on her side of the chasm. Wiping at her eye—and still not able to see out of it—she surveyed the scene. Some of the soldiers from the keep had joined her squad and were helping with the enemy. At least three of her men were injured, though it didn’t look like any were dead. Yet. They could still get through this alive. Then she saw a shape in the midst of the mutants coming at them. It had feathers on its head instead of hair and was laying about with talons on the ends of its arms. Damn! She hated those bird mutants. She rushed in, a little disoriented from having the use of only one eye. The bird creature was tearing out the midsection of one of the other soldiers. She thanked whatever powers there were that it was not one of her men and then immediately felt ashamed of herself. A man had just lost his life. It shouldn’t matter that he was not in her command. Growling with a savage fury, she threw herself at the bird. Chisin Ling was fast and strong. Few combatants could withstand her flurries when she attacked with both swords. These bird mutants, though, were devilishly fast themselves, and their

limbs were tough enough to withstand blows from even fine steel. It parried her strikes with its forearms and swung out to disembowel her. She stepped back, barely avoiding the talons. And then Danaba Kemp was next to her. “Together now, Chisin,” he said, winking at her, his big two-handed sword in his hands. “Can you see well enough?” He blocked two swipes from the bird’s limbs and sidestepped. “Well enough.” “Good,” he said. “I’ll draw it in. Watch for an opening.” The general dove in with a thrust toward the creature’s midsection. It hammered the sword away with both arms. Quick as a whip, Danaba Kemp flicked the sword up and over the thing’s arms and slashed a shallow cut across its face, just to the side of its beak. Its eyes grew wide and it screeched. He seemed to flow from movement to movement, here one second and there the next. The bird hunted him wherever he moved, screeching more and more with every miss of its claws. It seemed to have forgotten Chisin altogether. The captain wiped the blood from her eye again and was able to see blurry outlines of shapes through it. Not blind, then, just full of red fluid. She watched, circling the creature and looking for an opportunity. Danaba Kemp’s sword slapped dully against the

hardened flesh of the bird’s arms. Clang. Clangclang. The two moved so fast that Chisin could hardly follow it, especially in the dim light and with her flooded eye. Still, she tracked their movement carefully and finally found an opening. Danaba had made a desperate block to a strike that could have taken his head off, the talon slashing downward and frontward at the neck from the back. He swished his blade in a circle and counterattacked so hard the creature had to block it with both arms. At that moment, Chisin spun, slashed at the thing’s neck with the sword in her right hand, turned a complete circle to slash in exactly the same spot with her other sword, and then delivered a slash with her right sword again. The three cuts in the same place wounded its neck deeply, enough to stop its screeching. It put its talons to its throat, but it was too late. Himself spinning in a circle to gain momentum, Danaba Kemp swung his great sword around and struck the back of the bird’s neck, severing its head completely. The rest of the enemies—there were only four at this point—were dispatched quickly, and the wounded were dragged inside the gates. As the massive gates of the keep rang shut, Chisin Ling slumped against a wall. That had been close. Much too close.

CHAPTER 42

S

am and the others teleported back to Whitehall in the evening, close to the time when most of the people they needed to talk to would be eating dinner. They had cleared the fortress, destroying the mutants and sending away the humans, and settled in to wait for Dal to come back. After being there nearly three days, they all started to worry that the awkum master would teleport directly to Whitehall once he had communed with the artifacts, so they returned to wait for him. If he could already use the magic items, combat with him would be the same whether it was at his home or theirs. He was tired from anticipating combat with Dal for three days and getting little sleep, but decided that talking to Dr. Walt and Danaba Kemp was more important than a bath and rest. Nalia and

Rindu joined him as his other companions split up and went their different ways. “Let’s head for the main dining hall,” he said. “Hopefully we can find Dr. Walt and Danaba together so we can let them know what we found.” He started off toward his destination. When they got there, the trio found the dining hall fairly empty. There were less than a dozen people there, eating mechanically with unfocused gazes. Conversation was muted. “What’s going on?” Sam asked. “Where is everyone?” “Perhaps Dr. Walt is in his library or in one of the meeting halls,” Rindu offered. “Yeah, maybe,” Sam agreed. He flagged down one of the servants in the hall, an older, balding man who was cleaning a table. “Do you know where Dr. Walt is? Has he been here to eat?” “No, sir,” the man said, “he has not been in to eat recently. We have sent many meals out this evening, however. One moment, please.” The man turned and disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned, he made a small bow and told them what he had discovered. “Yes, Dr. Walt’s evening meal was taken to the planning room near his library and chambers. I can lead you there, if you would like.” “That is unnecessary,” Rindu said. “We know the room. Thank you.”

“Of course, sir. It is my pleasure to serve.” The three made their way to a room that had been given the name “planning room.” It was just a normal chamber, but when the army appeared at their walls, it had been used several times for meetings on strategy. It was centrally located, convenient, and large enough to hold a fair number of people and all the maps they needed to use. Two massive tables dominated the room, one of which held unrolled maps, their ends weighted with an ink jar and several stone figurines of animals. Dr. Walt was there, as was Danaba Kemp. Two of the members of the new government council, Fulusin Telanyahu and Georg Santas, were also there. The big captain, Chisin Ling, was there too, with half her head bandaged and blood seeping through in places. Sam wondered what could have done that to her but left the question unasked. “Dr. Walt, Danaba,” Sam said, nodding to the council members. “We went to the fortress and infiltrated it. We found Baron Tingai. He won’t make any mutants ever again. Chetra Dal was not there. He is off somewhere still communing with the artifacts.” “That is unfortunate,” Dr. Walt said. “We were hoping you would have good news to bring back. We could sorely use some.” “We waited, but no one there knew when he would come back, and we were afraid he’d come

straight here,” Sam said. “We’re not even really sure if he can teleport directly here, but we didn’t want to miss him. Danaba, what’s going on?” The general rubbed at his eyes and swung his head toward Sam. He looked tired. No, more than that. He looked like he’d been used up and drained of all his energy. Danaba Kemp sighed. “The damn mutants have been attacking several times a day. They built a bridge to get across the chasm where the drawbridge is and have been climbing each other to get up the walls, not even thinking of the arrows, rocks, and other nasty things that come down on them. They’ve actually come over the walls several times. “That is quite a feat,” Rindu said, “to get over those walls.” “Yes,” Danaba agreed. “If you throw enough bodies at something, things tend to happen, difficult or not. We pick our targets carefully because we’re running out of arrows. We’re even running out of stones to throw down on them. We’ve dug up some of the parks looking for more. They’re wearing us down.” “Can you destroy the bridge to keep them from getting across?” Sam asked. “Funny you should bring that up.” Danaba winked at Chisin Ling. “It was built in such a way that it was impervious even to fire arrows and

sheets of burning oil. Chisin here, and her squad of special soldiers, just took it out tonight. Used all that remained of the explosives Emerius made for us. We’re going to need to ask him to make more. I’m sure we’ll need it. “Anyway, Chisin’s squad took it out, but there were casualties.” He gestured toward the captain. “As you can see.” “There were many worse off than me,” she said. It wasn’t a boast, just a statement of fact. “Much worse.” “Well,” Danaba continued, “you and your special forces saved many lives tonight. If we ever figure out what kind of awards for valor the new government will give out, you’ll be in the front of the line.” He smiled a tired smile at her. Danaba turned back to Sam. “They’ll build another one, and this time they’ll guard it so we can’t sneak up and destroy it again. All we’ve done is buy time. We need to finish this somehow, or the keep could actually fall without Chetra Dal even using the artifacts on us.” “Any ideas?” Sam asked. “No,” Dr. Walt said. “That’s why we’re here, actually. We could use some help, some creative thinking, maybe a miracle or two. We were hoping at least for news of Chetra Dal’s defeat so we could boost morale of our own troops and crush that of the besieging army. But alas, we can’t always get

what we want.” “It is more important to want what you get than to get what you want,” Rindu added. Everyone looked at him, then at each other, and almost as one, back to the maps. No one spoke. “We will think upon the matter,” Nalia said. “Perhaps after cleaning ourselves and eating something, it will become clear what we are to do.” Sam had almost zoned out for a moment. “Yes. My thoughts are all cloudy right now. I’m too tired to think. Danaba, you look ready to fall down, too. How about we take advantage of the break in the fighting Chisin’s squad has given us—” he nodded toward the captain and she nodded back to him “— and get a little sleep. We can meet here first thing in the morning and try to come up with a plan.” “Sounds good to me,” Danaba said. “We’re getting nowhere tonight anyway. I’ll check on the troops on the wall and then turn in. I’ll see you at first light.” Sam was tired from the day’s events, but he wasn’t ready for bed just yet. “I think I’m going to go up to the walls, take a look at the army out there,” he said. “I will go with you,” Rindu said. “I am not ready to go to my bed either.” “I will come, too,” Nalia added. The three walked through the keep in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

“What will we do?” Nalia asked after a time, mirroring Sam’s thoughts exactly. “That is the question, is it not, Iba?” “I can’t really think of anything,” Sam said, shaking his head. They fell silent again as they made their way across the courtyard to the walls. They were soon up the stairs and looking out over the scene below. The soldiers manning the wall nodded companionably to them, and Sam gave them a wave in greeting. Campfires dotted the cleared buffer zone around the cliffs on which the fortress sat. There were hundreds of them. Sam had seen the army before, but it still struck him how many foes were set against them. His heart dropped to his ankles. “How can we do anything with so many against us?” he whispered, too silently for the sentries to hear. Almost too softly for Rindu and Nalia to hear. “There are so many.” “Numbers are not all there is to victory, Sam,” Rindu said. “You know this. Have we not been outnumbered many times over in the past? Have we not always proven victorious?” “Yes, but this,” Sam swept his arm out to encompass the entire army, “this is too much. Even with the walls, how can we resist it?” “We can do it because we must. If Gythe is to survive, we must overcome this threat.” The monk

looked thoughtful for a moment and then continued. “It is not the army that concerns me. With the artifacts and the power he already possesses, the one calling himself Chetra Dal is more powerful than all that you see out there. He it is that concerns me. How shall we withstand him and his power? That is our primary problem.” “Oh, yeah,” Sam said. “Him. Right. I forgot about him for a moment. The question remains, though: what will we do? How can we defeat him and the army? I know Dr. Walt has been looking through the keep for something that can help us, items of power, other artifacts, things like that. He hasn’t found anything, but that doesn’t mean these things don’t exist.” “Perhaps therein lies our path,” Rindu said. “I do not know. It is as you said before, sleeping and looking at the problem with new eyes may be the way. I have no answers for you right now.” Nalia had remained silent during the exchange. “Yes, sleep will help. In the morning, all the cleverest people of Gythe will put their minds to finding a solution. We will persevere and succeed. Have faith that we will do so, Sam. It is as Father has taught you about resonance. We will take the force applied against us, add to it our own power, and thereby become even more powerful.” Sam put his arm around Nalia and hugged her to him. “You’re right, Nal. We’ll figure it out. We’ve

been in sticky situations before, and we’ll get through this one, too. I don’t know about you two, but I think I could probably sleep now. Are you ready to head back to the keep?” They were, and so the three walked back toward the keep, talking of little things, until they split up to go to their own rooms. Sam had been right. He got into bed and was soon soundly asleep.

CHAPTER 43

R

indu woke up before dawn and meditated for a time. When it was close to sunrise, he brought himself out of his meditations and made his way to the dining hall in which he was supposed to meet Sam and Nalia. He was early, so he piled his plate with food and sat down to eat it. The two showed up shortly after he sat down. They waved at him and went to get their own food before sitting down at the table. “I couldn’t think of anything,” Sam said, as he and Nalia sat down. “But it’s not for lack of trying. I racked my brain but couldn’t seem to come up with a good course of action. How about you?” Nalia shook her head and took a bite of a piece of toasted bread. “I, too, am having trouble developing a plan

that would solve our dilemma,” Rindu said. “It is a difficult puzzle, even without the leader who possesses the artifacts. Perhaps we only need the spark of an idea from one of us when we meet later, something to build upon. I hope that it is so, and we can find that spark.” “Yeah,” Sam said, starting in on his own breakfast, “me too.” After eating, the three went to the map room. Dr. Walt was already there. He looked to have been there all night. The remnants of his breakfast lay on one of the side tables. “Good morning,” he said, sounding like he was trying to sound positive. His smile slipped as he said it, but only a little bit. “Did you sleep well?” “We did,” Rindu said. “Have you thought of anything, Dr. Walt? We have not, I fear. It is a difficult thing.” The old scholar shook his head, causing his wild hair to sway as if in a breeze. “I’m afraid not, my friend. I had trouble sleeping and so took to reading some fascinating histories to let my mind relax. I find it is much more conducive to creative thought when I’m not trying too hard to force it. “The works I read were from the library Sam brought back from Kawkibon, the ones about the time before the Great War. Let me tell you about—” Right then, the door opened and Danaba Kemp

came in, closely followed by Ix and Emerius. Greetings were exchanged, and before pleasantries were finished, almost everyone was there. Rindu noted that everyone had brought their weapons with them. He himself had gotten into the habit, just in case there was an attack they had to run to meet. Sunedal lay propped against his chair. “I guess we should go ahead and get started,” Sam said. “Anyone else who shows up can just jump in. I think this is going to take a while.” “Yes, yes,” Dr. Walt said. “Quite right, Sam.” He stood and addressed the others, some seated and some still standing. “First off, let me just ask if anyone has come up with an idea they think might work to defeat, or even survive, the siege and the attacks coming against us.” No one spoke. They all looked at each other, waiting. After two solid minutes of silence, Danaba Kemp stood up. “It’s obvious you all are having the same problem I am with coming up with a plan. Maybe we should step back a bit and take this one piece at a time. Let me explain exactly where we’re at, and then maybe we can come up with ideas for each smaller problem and in that way solve the bigger.” There were nods, but no one else spoke. He continued. “There is an army of near to ten thousand enemies camped just outside of catapult

range of the fortress. Though we’ve killed many hundreds, they have apparently been making more because their numbers have actually increased overall. We have less than a thousand troops left here, with maybe an additional five hundred noncombatants. “Most of their army consists of mutants. Mutated humans, mutated hapaki, mutated animals, all of them basically wild and bloodthirsty. Many of them can’t think beyond wanting to kill and eat, but some are cleverer, almost as clever as the humans they used to be. Some can fly over the walls. “We have destroyed their bridge, but I’m sure they’re already building another. They may have already built it as a backup in case something happened to the first. Most of the opposing army has nothing to do all day, so it is likely we’ll see another platform put in place in the next few days. Maybe today. “With the bridge, they attack the walls regularly, making it impossible for our soldiers to rest enough. They wear us down and have come close to getting to the drawbridge controls several times. It will only take once. “On top of that, Chetra Dal has been spending his time learning how to use the artifacts. If what Dr. Walt and everyone else says is true, when he comes against us with the power of those artifacts, even Whitehall’s great walls won’t save us.

“My take on the problem is this: we have to withstand monsters climbing over our walls, somehow stop them with low supplies of every weapon we have, make it so our fighting men—it’s just an expression, Chisin, no offense to fighting women—can get enough sleep, and then somehow kill Chetra Dal before he can use the artifacts against us. Does that sum it up well enough for everyone?” Again, there were nods, but no one spoke. He looked at each person in turn, ending with his gaze lingering on Sam. Sam motioned with his hand in a seated bow. “Right,” Dr. Walt said. “Very accurate and concise, Danaba. I suggest we brainstorm, throwing forth any idea you might have, no matter how ridiculous it may sound. Even if we can’t use it, it may spur thought along other lines and lead to something more effective. I will take notes and we will discuss everything before making a decision. Your comments and ideas, please.” “My special forces can ramp up our nighttime attacks on the camp,” Chisin Ling said. “If Emerius can train us to make more of his explosives, they could turn the tide.” “Noted,” Dr. Walt said. “We will refrain from commenting on the ideas until we have gathered as many as possible.” “Can we lure them up to the entry pathway by

coming out of the gates?” Ru Wilkes asked. “Their numbers would be restricted then, evening the odds, and we could whittle them down.” So it went on. Rindu put forth a few ideas himself, not because he thought they would work, but because he hoped it would tickle an idea from others. A better idea. They continued for several hours, having food brought into the room so they would not have to stop to eat. Rindu rubbed his eyes and sighed. They had gathered more than two dozen ideas, but the stream of them was slowing. Dr. Walt would surely stop them soon and allow them to discuss those ideas they had already written down. An insistent knocking at the door caused a few in the room to jump. “Come!” Danaba Kemp said, frustration and irritation coming through in his voice. A soldier rushed in, saluted the general, and took a breath. “Sir, a man in robes is walking from the enemy camp into the buffer zone. He has a fairsized force with him, and he is carrying something. A few somethings. They are blowing horns and waving flags to get our attention.” Danaba leapt to his feet and was out the door before anyone else could comment on what the soldier had said. Rindu looked at Sam, then Nalia, then Torim Jet, and got up. “Perhaps we will finally see this man who calls

himself Chetra Dal,” Rindu said, and made his way into the hall. Everyone followed him, their weapons with them. The procession raced to the walls. By the time they got there, the entourage of the enemy had stopped midway into the cleared buffer area beneath the cliffs. Danaba Kemp was on the walkway, peering through a looking glass at the group. When the man in robes saw that they had arrived, he spoke, somehow magnifying his voice with power. Rindu could not see the glow of rohw around the man, but he was so far away that he could barely be recognized as a person at all. “Rindu!” the voice boomed. “Rindu Wroun. Or should I say Rindu Zose, the name you are now known by? I would speak with you, Rindu. Come down and perhaps we can discuss matters and come to a reasonable compromise.” Rindu looked at Torim Jet. The old monk’s face had gone white. He recognized the voice as well as Rindu did. It did sound like Chetra Dal. Still, it could be trickery. He would not believe Master Dal turning evil until he saw it clearly for himself. Coming back from the dead was more believable by far. “I believe I will accept his invitation,” Rindu said.

“Are you out of your flaming mind?” Emerius asked. “He’s got a hundred of those beasties with him. You go down there, and he’ll gladly watch them tear you apart.” “If there is any chance of preventing him from using the artifacts’ power or to stop the siege, I must try. If it is a trap or if it is not, I must go and speak with this man. I must find out why he is using Master Dal’s name and what his plan is.” “I will go with you,” Torim Jet said. “You will not stand alone.” “I, too,” Palusa Filk said. “Father,” Nalia said, “you will not go without me by your side as well.” “Wait,” Sam said. “It’s obvious that you’ll go regardless of what anyone says, Master Rindu. Let’s just make this easy. Who wants to go with him? If you do, step over here.” He moved away from the rest of the group, over to where Rindu stood along the battlement. Those who had spoken stepped over. Then Ix shrugged and joined them, Emerius close on her heels. Regi smiled and skipped a few steps to stand with them. Chisin Ling, Ru Wilkes, and even Nicole walked to stand with them as well. “Oh no,” Sam said. “Mom, you are absolutely not going down there. If it devolves into a battle, you are not going to try to fight mutants with a pair of knives.”

His mother looked at him defiantly. “I have seven knives hidden in various locations on my body,” she said, “and I have become very good with them.” “Mom,” Sam said, eyes flashing and hard as stone. “No. There will be no negotiations. I will have Danaba’s guards lock you in your room if I have to. I know you are brave and that you want to help, but no. It’s not gonna happen.” Nicole looked to Danaba Kemp and he nodded. “Sorry, Nicole. If he gives that order, or even if he doesn’t, I’ll do it. You have to pick your battles, and this one isn’t one you should pick.” She sighed and stepped back to join Dr. Walt and a few of the members of the Republic’s Guiding Council . “Fine.” She crossed her arms and let out a sharp breath. “Sam,” Dr. Walt said. “You do realize that if all of our finest combatants go down there at once, there is the chance that we could lose you all in the blink of an eye? It would cripple our effort.” “I know, Dr. Walt, but we are not going to lose Rindu to treachery because he goes down alone. With all of us, even that force Chetra Dal has brought with him won’t be able to defeat us. And if something does happen, Ix will be able to teleport us back here before any of the main army can reach us. It’s a risk, but not as great as you portray

it.” Ix tipped her chin at that. She had to have expected she would be their escape plan. “Thank you all,” Rindu said. “Doubly so. First for not trying to talk me out of going and second for supporting me.” He brought his hands up into a salute, one fist inside the other, and bowed to each of them. “It is my honor to have such good and loyal friends.” Danaba Kemp still hadn’t moved. “If there’s to be fighting, I should be there with you. Turkin, you have the command until I return. You shouldn’t need to do anything, but just in case, you know your duty.” The man snapped to attention and saluted, fist to heart. “I do, sir. Good luck, all you sirs and ma’ams. It is an honor to serve with you.” Everyone knew what they needed to do. They all linked hands as Ix pulled her sleeves up on her tunic so they could all touch a piece of her skin. “Ready?” she asked. Everyone spoke an affirmation or nodded. “Here we go. Be wary.” They disappeared from the wall and in a blink were standing on flat ground in the buffer zone, less than a hundred yards in front of the man in robes and his escort force. Rindu’s eyes focused on the robed man and his mouth dropped open. The enemy was older, his face more wrinkled, and he looked leaner than the

last time Rindu had seen him, but there was no doubt. The man who stood before him was Chetra Dal, Zouyim master and the figure Rindu had patterned much of his life after. He felt as if he could not breathe. Looking over to Torim Jet, Rindu knew he was not mistaken. The older monk’s face had gone ashen, and his eyes filled with tears. “Why?” was all that Rindu could say, and it came out as a whisper that was caught by the wind whipping across the empty space, taking it far away. “Rindu, my friend,” the man said, wearing a small smile. “It has been long since I have seen you. You look well. And Torim, I greet you as well.” “Why?” Rindu said more loudly, still trying to force air into his lungs. “Why have you done this? Why did you fake your death? Why?” The expression on Chetra Dal’s face flattened into an emotionless mask. “Yes, I suppose you would want to hear that first of all. For what it may be worth, I am sorry for the deception. I had important work to do and could no longer afford to carry on my subterfuge. My apologies that I could not tell you. “Do you know, Rindu, that I almost confided in you, that I almost asked you to come with me. I decided against it, of course. You were already too

set in your path, too loyal to the outdated ideals of the Zouyim. If I confided in you and then you refused me, I would have had to kill you. I did not desire that. Never that.” Chetra Dal looked contemplative for a moment. “I have often wondered how things would have been if you had come with me. Would you have convinced me to help the Zouyim, to destroy the Gray Man and save the temple, as well as the Sapsyra?” He gestured to Nalia and Reginia, standing together, both in Sapsyra garb. “But that does not matter now,” Chetra Dal said. “It is past and we are in the present, looking toward a better future. Let us speak of that. “I have rediscovered and refined the use of a better source of energy than the rohw. It is called awkum, and it is the future of Gythe. You have seen its power. It took your combined strength in the rohw to defeat Ayim Rasaad, my apprentice. It is a power that can bring all the world together under one person. Think on that. Imagine what we could accomplish together. Is not that what you are really fighting for?” “No,” Rindu said, shaking his head. “No! A Gythe united under the oppression of one man is worse than a divided Gythe. You are speaking of taking away the free will of every person in the world. You are speaking of being the ruler of all. Power such as this is dangerous and evil, and we

will not allow it.” The older man’s face twisted, and his mouth pinched as if he had eaten something rotten. “You will not allow it? Do you yet believe you can stop me in this, Rindu? Torim? Do you believe that because you are mighty, you can withstand my power? My awkum alone is enough to defeat you, but I also have the artifacts, and I have communed with them. I will use them if I must.” He wiped his face clean of all emotion again, so quickly that it made Rindu uncomfortable. Only someone not quite sane could change their emotions so quickly. “Rindu,” Chetra Dal continued more gently, “there is no reason to stand against me. We want the same thing. Would you be more pleased if I gave the ruling of Gythe over to you, with you beholden to no one except me? Would it serve better if you were king, or Torim Jet, or someone else, with me the ultimate power in the background?” “No,” Rindu said. “Gythe must be free, must be able to decide for itself how to proceed.” “And your new government, this Republic of yours, would do this?” Chetra Dal asked. “As long as men act according to imperfect knowledge, the world will be a sad, ineffective place. One with wisdom must have complete control so that men will not be able to make the mistakes they so often

make. It must be as I say. Gythe must be ruled with wisdom, and that rule enforced with the power of the awkum. No other option is acceptable. I would ask one more time for you to join me. Come, my brother, help me to make Gythe a better world.” “You are mistaken, Master Dal,” Rindu said. He felt a burning behind his eyes, the pressure of tears wanting release. “I have always respected you, always honored you and your memory. It saddens me to see that you are committed to such folly. I will oppose you. You will not become a tyrant, not while I and my friends still live.” Torim Jet nodded, tears freely flowing from his eyes. “Please, Master Dal, do not do this. Do not make us take arms against you. Gythe cannot lose a great master again. Please.” Chetra Dal’s mouth had gone into a hard, tight line. “You would oppose me, truly? Both of you, my disciples and friends? You would lift your weapons to defeat me rather than submit? If you do not agree with me, will you not simply allow me to carry out my plans without having to kill you? It would grieve me to have to destroy the last few Zouyim, no matter how confused or simple they may be.” “We will not allow you to oppress Gythe,” Rindu said. “If you insist on this course, we will fight you as we would any enemy of the people. You shall not prevail.”

The awkum master shook his head sadly. “That is unfortunate. It saddens me, for I would have you, Rindu, as my disciple and heir. Ah, but such things cannot be, I see. I do not have any other choice than to eliminate you, then, as enemies of the future Gythe so richly deserves. I am sorry it must be so.” He gestured to one of the humans standing next to him and closed his eyes. As he began to make soft sounds, chanting under his breath, the human lifted his sword and sliced it down toward Rindu and the others. The mass of bodies surged forward to attack.

CHAPTER 44

“W

e must interrupt him,” Rindu said. “He is preparing to use the artifacts. If he has truly communed to the extent he indicates, he could level the fortress walls. We must not allow him the opportunity.” Emerius drew and shot three arrows before Rindu even finished speaking. Two were deflected off shields held in front of Dal by two human soldiers. The other seemed to bounce off the air itself. The awkum master must have set in place some type of shield of power. “We’ll have to go through the army to get to him,” Sam yelled. “If we’re quick, we can do it before any more enemies get to us from the main camp.” He didn’t say anything else. The first of the mutated creatures had reached him and he was

fighting for his life, staff whirring as it cut the air. Rindu drew his swords, separated them, and set to work. Sam was right. They had to get to Chetra Dal before he could unleash the power of the artifacts and before the whole army was upon them. Rindu whirled, swords lashing out and removing parts from any foes who came too close to him. He saw in snatches the others fighting alongside him. They maintained a loose rank, far enough apart so that they were not in danger of striking their comrades, but close enough to protect each other’s flanks. Most of those coming against them were mutant creatures. Perhaps one in ten or one in fifteen was a human, the only foes with conventional weapons. The very few humans with bows or crossbows could not use their weapons without striking their own comrades, so after loosing a few missiles, they dropped their ranged weapons and drew their melee weapons. Three enemies came at Rindu—a wolf creature, some kind of reptile creature, and a man with a long spear. He spun out of the way of the spear thrust, using his momentum to shear off the wolf’s claw as it came for him. Ducking his head under a lightning-fast strike from the reptile, he batted the spear and, without losing any momentum, landed a spin kick on the side of the reptile creature’s head, causing it to leave its feet and fly back until it ran

into another creature. Rindu dropped low and flicked his sword out, slicing the spear-wielder’s leg. The man cried out and went to one knee, his injured leg no longer able to hold him. The Zouy slashed twice, one sword following the other, and the man’s head rolled from his shoulders to the ground. Continuing in his spin, Rindu threw his swords out again and the wolf creature, just recovering enough to try another attack, lost its other hand. With the amount of blood loss, the creature would weaken and die soon on its own, so Rindu turned his attention to the reptile, which had regained its feet and was coming back toward the monk. Two quick parries with his sword, and then Rindu unleashed a devastating front kick to the center of the monster’s chest, projecting rohw through the kick to crush its chest and destroy the heart within it. It dropped to the ground, dead, after flying back ten feet, but Rindu was already facing new combatants. As four more enemies queued up, Rindu glanced around. Sam was doing well, having broken his staff into the fighting sticks, this time with the top sections formed into a blade, like two slender wooden swords. He was cutting down those who came against him. Nalia, too, was wreaking havoc on her enemies, shrapezi flashing and pieces of her attackers flying.

She and Reginia were close to each other, the latter laughing maniacally. The others were holding their own as well, Torim Jet and Palusa Filk fighting side by side, Emerius foregoing his bow for his long knives, Ix flitting around disappearing and materializing to cover his back. The soldiers of the new republic, Danaba Kemp, Chisin Ling, and Ru Wilkes were putting in a good showing as well. Enemies fell like wheat beneath a scythe. But still they could not get closer to Chetra Dal. The defenders were not wading through the battle unscathed. Several were bleeding from wounds, though Rindu did not see any that were life-threatening. Still, small wounds could add up and slow a combatant down. Would they tire before they ran out of enemies to fight? Would they be in any condition to clash with Chetra Dal? The ex-Zouyim master was still standing there holding the artifacts. His eyes were still closed and he still chanted as before. He had chosen his troops well, for they did not let Rindu and his friends get close. In fact, they were pushing the Republic’s best hope back toward the cliffs, slowly but inexorably. The enemy would fall, given time, but would there be time enough? When Chetra Dal finished weaving his magic, it would be too late. And there were still other forces rushing toward them from the main camp.

Rindu knew what he had to do. Even at the risk of his own life, he would make it to his ex-master. Setting his jaw in grim determination, he cut his way through the four new attackers. The bird creature was most difficult because of its rock-hard arms that could easily block his sword. He whittled the number down to only the bird and some sort of furry creature with well-placed sword cuts and then waited for the remaining two to come at him. When the two were near, and another three had just about reached him, he crossed both swords in front of him, closed his eyes for a split-second, and generated a powerful rohw pulse all around him. It threw the enemies from him and made Palusa Filk stagger ten feet away. With a look of apology—and her look of understanding—he leapt in the air over several combatants toward Chetra Dal. He almost made it. Rindu had seen the arrows bounce from a shield made from some invisible power—that other power, the awkum most likely—but he underestimated the strength of that force shield. He did a flip, generating momentum to strike, and came down with both swords, ready to cut Chetra Dal down where he stood. A foot from making contact, he struck something he could not see and was forcefully repelled backward. It felt like he had run headlong into a stone wall. The Zouy bounced and skidded across the dry

earth of the buffer zone, tangling the feet of three of Chetra Dal’s soldiers and causing them to fall. For a wonder, he was not attacked as it happened, probably because it all happened so fast. Sam struck down another creature and put his hand out to Rindu to help him up. “Thank you,” Rindu said, shaking his head to try to clear the ringing in his ears. “It was a good try,” Sam said, turning back to the enemies arrayed against him. “We’ll have to all rush as a group, I think.” “Yes.” The others had seen what happened and were moving in closer to where Sam and Rindu were. They understood. “Now!” Sam yelled, as he took the lead in rushing forward. All of the others fell in behind him, Rindu on Sam’s left and Nalia on the right. Together, they formed a wedge that drove on toward Chetra Dal, piercing through the lines of the forces in front of them. It was a dangerous tactic, allowing the enemy to flank them and close in from the sides and back. It also compromised the Republic force’s ability to move freely. It had to be done, however. The additional attackers would reach them in a handful of seconds, and Chetra Dal could finish whatever he was doing at any time. It was a gamble, but a necessary one. If they could only get to the enemy

leader in time. But they couldn’t. Chetra Dal opened his eyes while Sam was still twenty feet from him. The exZouy’s mouth twitched into a smile so faint it was hardly there, and then turned down into a look of distaste. Chetra Dal didn’t even gesture, only glanced at his foes, and an inexorable wall of force pushed them back thirty feet while brushing his own forces to the sides. “It is done,” Dal said. “It is a shame to destroy such promise, but I will do what I must do for the sake of all Gythe. I must take the world in my fist and usher it into a better age, without the squabbling and the incompetence that it has always displayed. If I must destroy you all to do so, then so be it. Your time is done.” Rindu watched in horror as more energy than he had ever thought possible swirled around Chetra Dal. The awkum master was levitating the artifacts in front of him, turning them in a slow circle, and the energy built with each rotation. Rindu knew that the only component of the energy he could see was the rohw. How much greater would the display be if he could see the awkum as well? Rindu tore his eyes from the energy and glanced at Sam. He and Nalia had gripped each other’s hands, squeezed, and then released. With the wall of force against them, there was not much

else they could do. Sam straightened and looked into Chetra Dal’s eyes. He would die with honor. As Rindu looked to each of the others, he saw that all of them were standing straight despite their injuries. A feeling of pride washed over him. “It has been my honor to have fought by your side,” he said, holding his hands in salute and turning to make eye contact with each of them. All of them, in turn, saluted back, even Emerius. With few precious seconds left, Rindu generated as much rohw as he could pull from his surroundings. He battered at the shield around Chetra Dal, but it might as well have been a gnat flying into a man’s armor. First Sam, then Nalia, then the other Zouyim added their power to his, but still it was not enough to break Dal’s shield. It had no effect. He was simply too powerful, or the artifacts were. Still, he tried and tried until his head felt as if would explode from the energy rushing through him. Finally, Chetra Dal looked Rindu in the eyes, seeming to have gathered the power he wanted, a hurricane’s force of magic with the sole intention of destroying them and the fortress walls, maybe the cliffs themselves. “Goodbye, my friend,” Chetra Dal said. “I truly wish it could have been otherwise.” And he let loose a tidal wave of energy the magnitude of which had never been seen on Gythe.

CHAPTER 45

S

am could see the rohw component of the energy Dal had been gathering. It swirled and coalesced into a wall of force fifty feet high and stretched as far as he could see to either side. How was that much energy even possible? It began to push out from Dal toward Sam and the others. Toward the fortress. It started slowly, but began to pick up speed with every foot it advanced. There were only seconds until it struck them, and he knew it would tear them apart completely. This was the end. The thought resonated in his mind, bouncing around and becoming larger, louder. Resonated. Sam’s mind whirled. He searched for the elusive thought that had tickled his consciousness. Resonance. Rindu had been working with him,

trying to impress upon him the importance of resonant frequencies. What had he told him? Resonant frequencies were related, kindred energies that could meld, add to each other, be controlled. Resonance and Harmonics, weren’t those the things Rindu had been trying to train him in? Could he use them? The force tidal wave was almost upon him. The rohw users were still linked, their energy pooled into a vast reservoir of power. Could he use it? Sam closed his eyes and sank into himself. His mind locked onto Rindu’s training, a small part of him sensing the impending impact of Chetra Dal’s power. It was almost upon them, but within his calm balance came an understanding of it. He could feel the frequency, feel the vibration of it, even feel what had to be the awkum, a dark and mysterious component that now somehow made sense. All his training suddenly harmonized within him but more importantly, an eerie familiarity with the new magic awakened in him. He put himself deep within it and in so doing, became part of it. As the edges of the power touched him, it all snapped together in his mind. Instead of resisting it, he simply let it into himself, absorbed it, welcomed it as if it were he himself. And in the comfort of the sameness, he added his own pool of power to it. Rather, he added the rohw of all his friends.

It magnified Chetra Dal’s power tenfold. Without thinking about what he was doing, Sam found his body moving with a supple grace, as if he was catching an egg gently tossed to him, moving with the trajectory of his precious gift so as not to allow it to break. He accepted it, swayed with the force of it, and then, gently at first but then with greater insistency, he threw it back from whence it came. Right at Chetra Dal. The ex-Zouyim master’s eyes widened as he saw what had been done. He had time only to whisper, “But…that is impossible,” before the force, magnified beyond what it had been, struck him and his army full force.

R INDU WAS AMAZED . He had thought the colossal wall of force generated by Chetra Dal and the artifacts would have crushed them to powder on the way to destroying the walls of Whitehall. All his attempts to influence it, even with the combined rohw of all his friends, were useless. He continued trying, though it seemed a meaningless act of defiance. Until the power was yanked from his control. By Sam.

The monk could see the energies within the wall. It was eerie to see only the rohw half, with empty spaces that had to have been filled with the awkum. Still, the rohw, glowing more brightly than anything he had ever seen, was enough to track the tidal wave’s movement as it rushed toward them, gathering speed. He watched it with wide eyes as it came, felt its intrusion into his aura. Rindu was not fatalistic, but he knew it was the end of their lives, the end of life on Gythe as all had known it. It saddened him, but he was content with death rather than to see his entire world subjugated by another madman. Once in his life was enough. The swirling wall of power came, and he threw his shoulders back, lifted his chin, and waited for his destruction. It was a good day to die. And then Sam was there, standing to his right and just in front of him, swaying as if he was a sapling in a strong wind. He moved his hands in a circular motion and seemed to catch some of the energy coming against them. No, not some of it. Rindu’s mouth dropped open as he saw Sam catch all of it. Perhaps catch was not the correct term. From what he could see of the rohw, Sam was actually matching the power, vibrating his own body at a resonant frequency, making himself and Chetra Dal’s wall of force one. His young disciple was adding his own power to it,

melding with it. But not just his own power. It was the power of all the rohw users with him, including Rindu’s own power. The Zouy smiled as he realized what Sam was doing. Something so daring, so impossible to conceive of, it almost made the master giddy. Sam was attempting to resonate with more power than any ten rohw masters should be able to withstand. Any hundred. Rindu watched as the power whirled around him, whipping his robes and making them pop in the eerie silence of the maelstrom. Then it was past him, circling around the defenders of the Republic and rushing back toward Chetra Dal. Rindu saw his former master mouth, “But…that is impossible,” before his own power, magnified with the power of his enemies, crashed back upon him and his forces. The result was devastating. Chetra Dal fared the best, protected by the shields he had put up. His followers did not have that shelter. The power ripped through his army. The group around the ex-Zouy ceased to exist. As the wave of energy traveled to those who had not reached the battle yet, the power lessened slightly, and by the time it got to the main body of the army, it merely tore the bodies of the besiegers apart. It went through the camp like an avenging angel, causing death and destruction that had not been seen since the Great War. When it passed through the other side, the lucky few who were only injured

by the spent power dragged themselves from the scene as quickly as their damaged bodies could manage. The siege, and the besiegers, were no more. Chetra Dal lay on the ground, his body whole but broken. His shield had kept him from disintegrating, but could not save his life. Rindu saw that his old master had only moments to live. Rindu walked to Chetra Dal, Torim Jet beside him and the others a few steps behind. He surveyed the scene. The pieces of the artifacts lay scattered before the awkum master. They would never be used again, and for this Rindu was thankful. Blood trickled from Chetra Dal’s mouth, and his limbs rested at strange angles as if he had fallen from a great height. He had a crushed look to him, his body appearing fragile and frail. “Rindu,” he said, coughing up a gobbet of thick blood. “Rindu, my friend and my disciple.” Rindu went to him and knelt beside him. “I am here.” “You must understand, Rindu. I want only what is good for Gythe. The awkum—” He coughed weakly, more blood spilling from his lips. Rindu gently wiped it away with the sleeve of his robes. “—is so powerful. It can…unite all Gythe. Bring peace.” He tried to draw a deep breath and winced from the pain. “Promise me, Rindu,” he gasped.

“Promise…don’t let the awkum die. Scrolls…in my keep…continue my work. Promise.” Rindu looked at his former master, but could not focus on him. His eyes were blurry, and he had to wipe tears from them to see clearly. He wondered at the reason. Was it the loss of a great Zouyim master, or was it the pitiful sight before him? Was it pent-up emotions from nearly dying, or happiness that Gythe would have a chance to be the architects of their own future? All he knew was that his heart ached as it had not ached since Ylleria, his wife, died. He turned his thoughts back to Chetra Dal and his plea. “No,” Rindu said. Chetra Dal’s eyes grew wide and he sputtered. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Two rattling breaths were all he had left, and when they were spent, the former Zouyim master Chetra Dal was a lifeless husk on ground that had seen so many other lives end. Rindu turned his head to Torim Jet, his old friend. The old master had tears in his eyes as well, but a firm resolve showed through. His shoulders slumped and he sobbed, but on seeing Rindu, he lifted his chin, straightened his back, and saluted, one fist inside the other. Rindu saluted back and bowed formally. “It is done,” he said. “Let us leave this place. There is no longer any life here to concern us.”

On his cue, the small party of heroes turned to walk back toward the keep, those less injured supporting their more seriously injured friends. Ix stopped and reminded them that though she was tired, she could still manage to teleport them back to the keep. The others gathered around her, and in seconds the only evidence that anyone was ever there was the lonely corpse of a once-great user of powerful magics.

CHAPTER 46

S

am sat slumped in a chair in the large meeting hall the new government had taken for their official place of business. All his friends were there, including the three hapaki and his mother. “…and what was left of the army has fled,” Danaba Kemp said. “There are maybe two or three hundred left. A scattering of humans and the rest mutated creatures. They won’t trouble us. All the officers were further up in the ranks and were destroyed by the wall of power.” “Thank you, Danaba,” Dr. Walt said as he stood up and the general sat down. “The last obstacle to the initiation of the new government of Gythe is now gone. In three days’ time, we will officially institute the Republic in a public ceremony. A holiday will be commemorated on the day each

year as a remembrance.” It had been two days since the defeat of Chetra Dal’s army, time enough for the injuries suffered by the heroes of Gythe to be dressed and a multitude of stitches to be sewn. Some in the room had wounds that would not heal fully for several weeks, but they had all made it to the meeting, sort of an informal gathering before all the official committees took over. Sam sighed. One crisis was over, but now the real work would begin. Could the government they had so carefully crafted withstand corruption? Would there be another tyrant or some other catastrophe to challenge them? He hoped not. Nalia, sitting next to him, put her hand on his leg and squeezed. He covered her hand and smiled. Maybe now they could spend time just being together, without having to worry about someone trying to kill them. The talking stopped and Sam looked up. Dr. Walt and everyone else were staring at him. He replayed in his mind what he had been only half listening to. “Oh, yes,” he said. “I visited Kokitura yesterday morning and Marybador in the afternoon. They are both doing well. I will take them the supplies they requested tomorrow. The work on the temple is progressing rapidly. It’s unbelievable. Any who would like to go with me are welcome.”

“I believe I would like to accompany you,” Dr. Walt said. “It is an historic undertaking, and I would not miss seeing it firsthand.” There were other requests for inclusion and Sam noted them. “Tomorrow morning, meet me where the supplies are being staged in the courtyard, and we can all go together.” “Right, good.” Dr. Walt cleared his throat. “If there is nothing further, I suppose this meeting is finished. I just want to say how much your work and sacrifice mean to me, and in fact to all Gythe. Without this group of heroes, we would be under Chetra Dal’s thumb even as we speak.” Sam had gone to Chetra Dal’s fortress and retrieved the scrolls the awkum master had told Rindu about. They were kept in a very special place, a locked room in the new library Sam had teleported from Kawkibon. Dr. Walt wanted to study them, but agreed that they were too dangerous to allow others easy access. As people left the room, Nicole came up to Sam. “So it’s done then. The new government will begin functioning—” “With you as one of the Council,” Sam added. “—with me as one of the council.” His mother smiled at him. “The enemy is gone, his army destroyed, and things look bright for Gythe. Which brings me to another important issue…” “Sam has asked me formally if I would marry

him,” Nalia said, her smile so wide it made Sam melt. “We are planning a large celebration to coincide with the festivities for the new government. All of Gythe will know formally that he is mine and I am his.” She eyed him dubiously. “Sometimes he does not think clearly, and so he must have reminders.” Sam pulled her to him with one arm and kissed her. “I need no reminders, but I want everyone to know that I don’t want to go another week without you being officially by my side.” Dr. Walt came up to them. “Well done, my boy. I don’t believe I have ever been to a Gythe wedding. I am looking forward to it.” “Thank you Dr. Walt,” Sam said. “Me, too.” “Oh, something just occurred to me, something I think you will find interesting. Do you recall the library that you teleported here from Kawkibon? But of course you do. That’s a silly question. In any case, there were a few nights there where I simply could not get to sleep, my mind trying to come up with solutions. On those nights, I read a few of the books from that library. “They were not books on technology or anything that was related to our problem. They were rather light reading, stories and biographies. “In one, I found the account of how the hapaki were made.” Skitter’s voice entered Sam’s mind. Made?

What does he mean that the hapaki were made? We traveled here from somewhere else. All the ancient stories say so. “Skitter is asking what you mean by made. He says the old stories say the hapaki came here from somewhere else.” “Yes,” Nicole said. “The elder hapaki in the rainforest at Syburowq said the same thing, that the hapaki traveled and arrived in Gythe.” “Ah, well, I don’t know about that,” Dr. Walt said. “I’m just speaking about the journal I read. It says that this Magry Adronis, the chap whose picture is in the library, he was the one who did it. He was the leader of the research facility, as you already know, but he was the leader because he was a top-notch scientist. “Now, when I say scientist, I mean that in a different way than we normally think of a scientist, Sam. At that time, it meant he was not only a master at technology, but also at using the world’s energy, the rohw, personally. He was, if you’ll pardon the crude analogy, as if Rindu and I were mixed into one person. Fascinating, just fascinating.” “And?” Nicole said, by now used to the way the old scholar rambled. “Oh, yes. Pardon me. Well, it turns out that Adronis created the first hapaki using a lemur-like creature, one that is now extinct. He tried to impart

them with intelligence and abilities that could be useful in the war effort, but his attempts failed several times. “He was about to give up when he decided to make one more attempt. He would use human tissue and infuse it with the rohw and another power—possibly the awkum. He used his own blood and tissue for the project, knowing that it would readily respond to his use of the energy in the process. “It was a success. He created a handful of these new creatures and named them appropriately as he observed their habits. I’ve already told you that the name hapaki refers to their habit of pushing or shoving stones or other materials used for building their dens and such. “Once the colony was established, they were able to reproduce. The records don’t go past the culmination of the war, so it is unclear what happened to them, but obviously some survived.” “But,” Sam said, “what did they do? What were they created for?” “They were created as spies and scouts,” Dr. Walt said. “With their ability to move quickly, especially in heavy forest or brush, it was thought that they could link with their handlers and let the humans see what they did.” Skitter’s sending burst into Sam’s mind excitedly. It is like what we did, with me being your

eyes. Sam sent back a confirmation. “The problem, though,” Dr. Walt said, “was that while Adronis bred into them telepathic powers, they could communicate with no one but him. You see, they were created with his own blood, so they were forever linked with him. Even the offspring of the first generation of hapaki could only communicate mind-to-mind with him. The project was considered a failure, and the hapaki that existed at that time were set free in an area of their choosing.” “Wow,” Sam said. “That’s quite a story. It’s so interesting that they could only communicate with him. Maybe they just hadn’t met anyone else who could communicate. There were probably others but they didn’t find them.” Dr. Walt shook his head. “No, Sam. They could only communicate with Adronis because his blood and tissue was within them.” “That’s ridiculous,” Sam said. “My mom and I can do it and we’re not even from Gythe.” Dr. Walt smacked his palm to his forehead. “Oh, my. I am sorry. I suppose I forgot to mention one thing. The man’s name was not Magry Adronis. Magry was only his title, sort of like a battle leader. His full name was Adronis Wepp.” “What?” Nicole said. “Yes, quite. Apparently, soon after the hapaki were let loose and Adronis Wepp continued with

his work, he studied vibrational shifts believed to link Gythe with another world. Legend called it Telani. He, using his power and a sophisticated device he invented himself, crossed into that other world, but was never able to return. “I think I can say reliably that the reason was the same you face now, Sam. He could not return to Gythe because the technology interfered with his use of the rohw, much like you can’t return home for the same reason. He was never heard from again. Not on Gythe. Apparently he made it safely to Telani and lived out his life there. “You,” Dr. Walt gestured to Nicole and Sam, “as well as Nicole’s brother Grayson, are direct descendants of Adronis Wepp. You have an innate ability to use the rohw, and you can communicate with the hapaki. In a sense, they are your kin as well.” I knew you were too good to just be human, Skitter sent. We are cousins. Sam was silent for a moment as he thought. His mother was, too. “I would like to see these books, Dr. Walt. I would like to learn more about my ancestor and what he did.” “Of course, my boy. You’re in good company. Being a hero seems to run in your family.”

EPILOGUE

T

he wedding was a lavish affair. Nalia and Sam were married—him taking her last name as was the custom on Gythe—and the celebration lasted many days. It wasn’t just the wedding, of course, but though the inception of the new Gythian Republic was a cause for celebration, the emotional appeal of uniting two of Gythe’s heroes added a more joyful air. Sam stood on the hills surrounding Marybador, looking out at the new Sapsyra headquarters being built. It would take months to complete, but he could already see the shape of it. It made him giddy. Nalia, next to him, looked up and smiled the smile that made his knees go weak. “All of our dreams, they have come true. The temple, Marybador, the marriage, even the new

government. It is more than I ever hoped to see in my life.” Sam leaned over and kissed her. “I know what you mean. Just about everything a person could wish for in life.” “Just about?” Nalia said, eyebrows drawing down in confusion. “What is lacking?” “I wish your mother and Uncle Grayson could have been here to see it.” Nalia’s eyes dropped to the ground. “Yes. I wish that too. But we must think of the present and the future, not of the past. My mother would have loved you, Sam Wroun. I know it.” Sam smiled. “One other thing could make this perfect life even more perfect.” “And what is that, greedy one?” Nalia teased. “Maybe some little Sharps running around.” Nalia smiled as widely as he had ever seen. “Perhaps that can be arranged, Hero of Gythe. Perhaps it can.”

GLOSSARY

Following are words that may be unfamiliar. Some are names, others are terms from Kasmali or of other origin. The syllable in CAPS is stressed. For example, the word apple would be displayed as “AP·pull.” Please note that the diphthong ai has the sound like the English word Aye. Other sounds should be intuitive.

Agago (ah·GAH·go) – Baron Tingai’s compound at approximately the same location as Kingman, Arizona. In Old Kasmali, the name means “emaciated” or “wasting away.” Ahimiro (ah·hee·MEER·oh) – the name of Sam’s porzul wood staff, meaning “fire pole” in Old

Kasmali. Ahu (AH·hoo) – a small bird that takes its name from the Old Kasmali word for “funerary monument” because of its habit of digging holes into which it lays its eggs. Akila Gonsh (ah·KEEL·ah gonsh) – one of the two co-leaders of the city of Patchel’s Folly. Her husband, Raire, is the other co-leader. Arzbedim, singular Arzbed (arz·BAY'·deem, arz·BADE) – a group of rogue Zouyim who place their own selfish desires for power above all else; they are the natural enemies of the Zouyim. Awkum (ow·KOOM) – The strange power used by Ayim Rasaad and Chetra Dal. Instead of being based on peace and harmony, it is based on chaos and disorganization. Ayim Rasaad (ah·YEEM rah·SOD) – a former Zouyim who defected to become one of the Arzbedim and narrowly escaped the extinction of that group by the Gray Man. Baron Tingai (TIN·guy) – Chetra Dal’s chief scientist, responsible for the creation of mutations

to be used for combat. Bayton (BAY·tun) – a fairly large city (for Gythe) that is in the exact location as San Franciso in Telani. Bhorgabir (BOR·gah·beer) – stealthy assassintype of mutants genetically created in the Great War and of which there are still a handful. They are called “bhor” as a shortened form of the name, the full name meaning “twilight man” in Old Kasmali. Bongana Mountains (BONE·gah·nah) – the mountains called the Rocky Mountains in Telani, especially the northern parts of the range near the Canadian border. Chen Bao Ling ([ba·OH] ling) – a nine-year old girl of the Chen clan (Ix’s clan). She has come from Zhong, where Ix grew up and is now the first of the new Zouyim disciples. Chen Feng Dao (FONG·[da OH])– fighting monk from Telani who accidentally transported himself to Gythe and founded the clan to which Ix belongs. Feng Dao means loosely “wind knife” or “wind sword”

Chetra Dal (CHE·tra DAHL) – a legendary Zouyim master who is believed to have died while on a mission more than three decades ago. Chisin Ling (CHEE·sin LEENG) – a captain in the forces of the new government, leader of the special forces unit. Cleave – Nalia’s rakkeban. Danaba Kemp (DAHN·ah·bah) – former leader of the Red Fangs, a group of bandits that lived in the area called The Grinder. He is now the general of the forces of the new government. Dead Zone – an area where there is essentially no life because of devastation hundreds of years ago. This area is approximately what surrounds Olympia and extends to the north of Seattle in Telani. Dilkin Turin (DILL·kin TOO·rin) – one of the leaders (elders) of the Order of the Rohw. He is Pred Turin’s direct descendant. Dredden Couch (DRED·den COWCH) – the leader of the city of Bayton. Dr. Walter Wicket – a physicist/archaeologist who

was arguably the top expert in ancient societies’ use of vibrational energy, when he was in Telani. Now he heads the effort to establish the new government on Gythe. Emerius Dinn (eh·MARE·ee·us DIN) – twin to Inoria Dinn. A hunter and tinkerer of supreme skill. Fulusin Telanyahu (foo·LOO·seen tell·an·YAW·hoo) – the leader of the city of Seamouth. Gawzay (GAH·zay) – the artisans who make ceramic glass items, especially weapons. Georg Santas (GAY·org SAN·toss) – the leader of the town of Wethaven. Gray Man – the successor to the Arzbedim, a tyrant who had plans to control two worlds. He is now deceased. Grayson Wepp – a paleontologist who was transported to Gythe by the Arzbedim and who became the Gray Man. He was also Sam’s uncle, brother to Nicole Sharp. Greenfield – a town that is approximately where

Medford, Oregon is located on Telani. Gutu (GOO·too) – Ayim Rasaad’s fortress. The name, in Old Kasmali, means “lip” or “snout,” no doubt referring to the mouth of the valley where it is situated. The location is approximately where Hermosillo (in Mexico) is in Telani. Gythe (GAITH) – the world in which Sam found himself accidentally (in the book Vibrations), and to which he returned (in the book Harmonics). The name, in the Old Kasmali language means roughly “the physical world.” Hapaki (ha·PAH·kee) – a race of furry telepathic creatures that looks somewhat like a lemur mixed with a badger. Skitter is hapaki. Hila (HEE·lah) – one of the bhorgabir, Vahi’s second-in-command. Iba (EE·bah) – the term of endearment Rindu uses for his daughter, meaning “heart” in Old Kasmali. Iboghan (EE·boe·gahn) – the name for Carlsbad Caverns on Gythe. In Old Kasmali, the name means “heart of hell.”

Ikalau (EEK·ah·la·oo) – a small fishing village around where Eureka, California is on Telani. The name means “large fish” in Old Kasmali. Inoria Dinn (in·OH·ree·uh DIN) – twin to Emerius Dinn. She was killed while attacking Ayim Rasaad’s fortress at Gutu. Ix (ICKS) – formerly the Gray Man’s chief assassin. She took her name from the 8th letter of the Old Kasmali alphabet. The name of the letter meant roughly “fence in”, or “destroy.” Jondin Sparks (JON·din) – Reginia Sparks’s husband. Kasmali (caws·MAH·lee) – the language spoken on Gythe. Kawkibon (CAW·ki·bon) – the name for the location of Roswell, New Mexico on Gythe. The name in Old Kasmali means “star rock.” Kechaala (kay·CHAW·la) – the native people that inhabit the Syburowq (Olympic Peninsula in Washington) area, amongst other areas in the Northwest.

Khulim (KHOO·leem) – the state of consciousness just on the edge of going into a trance; “dream” in Old Kasmali. Kimatar (KEEM·ah·tar) – a pear-like fruit with a sweet taste. Kokitura (KOE·kee·too·rah) – The mountain on which the main temple of the Zouyim was located before being destroyed by the Gray Man. The name means “Storm Mountain” in Old Kasmali and is called Mount Shasta on Telani. Kori rohw (KOE·ree roe) – sets of movements or forms for bringing the body into harmony with the surrounding rohw; in Old Kasmali, “rohw play.” Kryzyq (KRI·zik) – in Gythe, the town in approximately where El Paso, Texas is in Telani. Lahim Chode (LAY·him CHODE) – the only surviving prisoner from the dungeons of the Gray Man. He has a talent for remote viewing. Magry Adronis (MAH·gree ah·DRAWN·is) – the leader of the research facility at Kawkibon during the technological age of Gythe.

Malcolm Vayne (MAL·cum VANE) – the leader of the village of Raihar. Manu (MAH·noo) – large birds, somewhat like an ostrich but bigger, typically used as mounts. Marge Tousin (TOO·sin) – the primary healer in Whitehall. Marjin Lace (MAR·jin) – the leader of the town of Greenfield. Mark Sharp – Sam’s father, deceased, previously husband to Nicole Sharp. Marybador (may·RIB·ah·door) – the location of the headquarters of the Sapsyra Shin Elah. The location is called Crater Lake on Telani. The name means roughly “Bowl of Fire” in Old Kasmali. Max – a hapaki, Skitter’s nephew. Medit (med·EET) – a town located approximately where Portland, Oregon is on Telani. Mosian Fleck (MOSE·ee·ahn) – one of the Brothers of the Rohw in Rohwbyt.

Miray (MEE·ray) – a leadership position similar to a mayor but with more power. Molly – a stowaway cat that was transported to Gythe while hiding in Sam’s woodbin. She had a litter of kittens, the only ones in Gythe. Mwantgeray (MWAHNT·geh·ray) – Chetra Dal’s fortress at what would be Bismarck, North Dakota in Telani. The name means ‘death energy” in Old Kasmali. Nalia Wroun (NAH·lee·ah ROON) – one of the Sapsyra Shin Elah, perhaps the last one living, daughter to Rindu Zose and Ylleria Zose. Nawrpul (NAWR·pool) – a location where there is a lake near what is called Banff in Telani. The name means “fire fog” in Old Kasmali. Nicole Sharp – Sam’s mother, wife to Mark Sharp. Old Kasmali (caws·MAH·lee) – an ancient language of Gythe, not spoken any longer except in fragments, much like Latin is on Telani. Onekai (OWN·eh·kai) – a vegetable that grows

close to the ground; the name means “earth fruit” in Old Kasmali. Order of the Rohw –a group of people who are descendants of a Zouyim monk and his close associates, dedicated to achieving balance with the universal rohw. Palusa Filk (pah LOO·sah FILK) – one of the three known surviving Zouyim monks, a woman of an age with Nalia. Pantor – large predatory cats, much like the panthers or cheetahs on Telani. Patchel's Folly – a city in the area of the Dead Zone, located approximately where Olympia, Washington is on Telani. Pletan Dorr (PLEE·tan DOOR) – the engineer for Whitehall who is second-in-command of building and engineering, beneath Surim Denga. Porzul (PORE·zool) – wood from the tree of the same name, having properties of metal and very conductive to vibrational energy. Powmry (POW·mree) – the name of the mountain

named Mount Rainier in Telani. The name means “mouth of waters” in Old Kasmali. Pred Turin (TOO·rin) – a former Zouyim monk who went off to live as a hermit but who attracted followers and founded the village of Rohwbyt. Rabadur (rah·bah·DURE) large four-armed humanoids that were created genetically from humans as weapons during the great war and some of which are still around today Raihar (RAI·har) – a village near where San Luis Obispo and Buttonwillow, California would be on Telani. Raire Gonsh (RARE GONSH) – one of the two coleaders of the city of Patchel’s Folly. His wife, Akila, is the other co-leader. Rakkeben , singular rakkeban (RAH·keh·ben, bahn) – large, intelligent wolves that can be ridden as mounts, if the rakkeban bonds with the rider. Reginia “Regi” Sparks (reh·JIN nee·ah; re·GEE) – a Sapsyr, Nalia’s best friend when they were young.

Riati (ree·AH·tee) – small, thin, hairless mutated humans most often seen in the Dead Zone Rindu Zose (REEN·doo ZOZE) – a Zouyim monk, one of the last, husband to Ylleria Zose and father to Nalia Wroun. Rohw (ROE) – the energy that pervades all life in the universe, from Old Kasmali for “spirit” or “wind.” Rohwbyt (ROE·bit) – a village made up of the Brothers or the Rohw. Ru Wilkes – an ex-leader of one of the Gray Man’s Collector groups, newly commissioned as a commander in the army of the Republic of Gythe. Sammy – a hapaki from a different community than the one to which Skitter and Max belong. Sam Sharp – a man who accidentally transported himself to Gythe and became known as a hero because of actions he took trying to return home. Many people call him “the Hero of Gythe.” Sapsyra Shin Elah, singular sapsyr (sap·SEER; sap·SEER·ah SHIN EE·lah) – an order of women

warriors, the finest person-to-person fighters on Gythe, pledged to honor, justice, and helping others. Nalia Wroun may be the last surviving Sapsyr. Seamouth – a town in approximately the location where Everett, Washington is on Telani. Shen Nan – the husband of one of the deceased Sapsyra, Eoria Nan. Shiran Slayth (SHE·ran SLAYTH) – the miray (a leadership position similar to mayor but with more power) of the town of Krysyq. Shonyb (SHOE·nib) – Sam’s rakkeban; the name loosely means “fang” in Old Kasmali. Shrapezi (SHRAH·peh·zee) – Nalia’s favorite weapon, hooked swords with razor-sharp crescent handguards; from Old Kasmali meaning “iron moon.” Shumashin (SHOO·mah·shin) – the town where Spokane, Washington is in Telani. Skitter – a hapaki who got caught up in Sam’s original adventure in Gythe.

Somas (SO·mahs) – – the town in approximately the same location as Nogales, Arizona in Telani. Sowyndmesh (SO·wind·mesh) – the town in the location where Las Vegas, Nevada is in Telani. The name means “red sunrise.” Srenick Fallows (SREN·ick) – the leader of Medit. Stoker – Sam's housecat. Stumin Kile (STOO·min KILE) – the mayor of Somas. Suka Templar (SOO·kah TEM·plar) – an ancient hero, one whom Emerius Dinn idolizes and patterns himself after. Sunedal (SOON·eh·dahl) – Rindu’s twin broadswords. The name means “teeth of Dal,” referring to Rindu’s old master Chetra Dal. Surim Denga (SOO·reem DEN·gah) – the head engineer of Whitehall, the one responsible for planning the rebuilding of the Zouyim temple.

Syburowq (SI·boo·roke) – the area that is the Olympic Peninsula on Telani. The name means “green finger.” Teacher’s Valley – a city in the location where Coeur d’Alene, Idaho is in Telani. The name in the language of the Kechaala people is Tchela Aenora. Telani (tay·LAH·nee) – Earth, the world from which Sam comes. In Old Kasmali, the word means, roughly, “shadow.” Tika Steen (TEE·kah STEEN) – Reginia Sparks’s daughter. Togo Cairn (TO·go) – a tracker from the Shumashin area. He aids Sam and the others in finding their way through the Bongana mountains. Torim Jet (TOE·reem JET) – one of the three known surviving Zouyim. Tramgadal (TRAM·gah·dahl) – The village that served as a doorway to Kokitura Mountain, located at the base of it. Vahi (VAH·hee) – the leader of the bhorgabir, a race of mutant assassins.

Wethaven – the city in the location where Seattle is on Telani. Zhong (JZONG) – the area where Ix grew up, founded by Chen Feng Dao and in the location of the Salt Lake Valley in Telani. Zirquay River (ZEER·kway) – the name of the Colorado River in Gythe. The name, in Old Kasmali, means “blue snake.” Zouyim, singular Zouy (ZOO·yeem; ZOO·yah) – a class of monks or mages who use vibrational energy (the rohw) and are experts in combat. Their purpose is to aid the citizens of Gythe in living peacefully and honorably. The main Zouyim temple was at Kokitura mountain before being destroyed. Zumra (ZOOM·ra) – Rindu’s rakkeban. The name means, loosely, “singing” in Old Kasmali. He was named thus because of his habit of humming. Zyngim (ZEEN·geem) – the artisans who are able to make steel, the only ones who can do so on Gythe because of the peculiar difficulty of making alloys of iron.

Zyrqyt Lake (ZEER·kit) – The lake surrounding the island of the former Sapsyra headquarters of Marybador. The name is derived from Old Kasmali and means "blue glass."

THANK YOU!

Thank you for reading Resonance, the third book in the Harmonic Magic series. Please consider taking a moment to post a review where you purchased the book. Reviews are important in helping other readers find exciting books and help authors to continue to write them, as well as providing valuable feedback for the author. Your honest review would be very much appreciated.

If you would like to get information on upcoming books, either in the extended Gythe series or in one of my others, please visit my web site at pepadilla.com and join my PEP Talk newsletter. I also appreciate any comments I receive, so please feel free stop by my web site and comment on the site itself or to send me an e-mail at

[email protected].

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A chemical engineer by degree, air quality engineer by vocation, certified dreamer by predilection, and writer by sheer persistence, USA Today bestselling author P.E. Padilla learned long ago that crunching numbers and designing solutions was not enough to satisfy his creative urges. Weaned on classic science fiction and fantasy stories from authors as diverse as Heinlein, Tolkien, and Jordan, and affected by his love of role playing games such as Dungeons and Dragons (analog) and Final Fantasy (digital), he sometimes has trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy. While not ideal for a person who needs to function in modern society, it’s the perfect state of mind for a writer. He also writes young adult fantasy/action & adventure under the pen name Eric Padilla, and lives in Southern California, though he would like to be where there are more trees.

pepadilla.com/ [email protected]

ALS O B Y P.E . PAD ILLA

Adventures in Gythe: Vibrations: Harmonic Magic Book 1 (also available as an audiobook) Harmonics: Harmonic Magic Book 2 Resonance: Harmonic Magic Book 3 (the book you are holding) Tales of Gythe: Gray Man Rising (also available as an audiobook)

The Unlikely Hero Series (under pen name Eric Padilla): Unfurled: Heroine is a Tough Gig (Unlikely Hero Series Book 1) (also available as an audiobook) Unmasked (Unlikely Hero Series Book 2) (to be released late 2017) Undaunted (Unlikely Hero Series Book 3) (to be released very late 2017 or very early 2018)

Boxed Sets (with other authors): Magic After Dark Myths & Magic

Witches of the Elements Series (under pen name Eric Padilla): Water & Flame (Book 1)