Interlude Songs and Stories

Interlude Songs and Stories

He knew all the storiesor enough of themand the history, from both worlds. Even so, the Goblins seemed sodifferent from any generic monster in a video game to Kevin that he never thought of them like that.

They didnt look like dirty, horrific evil placeholders in the army for the heroes to kill by the thousand. Oh, yes, they had vaguely shark-like features, lots of pointed teeth, red eyes, and green skin.

But they never acted like monsters. In fact, Kevin vaguely suspected that some had better hygiene than he had ever practiced in his life, like Calescent. Normal Goblins were short, but not unintelligent. When one looked at you, it was with more insight than, say, a little kid.

Sometimes, they were so weary and old that a two-year old made Kevin feel like hed seen and done nothing. Mainly, though, they could be, like people, good and bad. Glorious and mundane.

Numbtongue. Now, Numbtongue was objectively handsome. Some Goblinsmore than Humanswere naturally bald, and that went across genders. Numbtongue had hair, the kind of physique only an exercise-freak like a Redfang got, and he looked good, especially since Lyonette gave him clothing and he wore it.

Objectively. Hot. Kevin wasnt an expert in male beauty, but he had a private dream hed never told the [Bard]. And that was someday, somehow, to find a way back home. To San Diego, California, and take the Hobgoblin bar hopping for a night and justsee what happened. What would happen if Humans with no context for Goblins just saw Numbtongue rock in, and begin strumming on his guitar?

It might have been chance, a habit from growing up and avoiding danger or battle training, or innate style, but the Hobgoblin liked to choose the shady corner of the room. Youd hear music, and see him there, eyes glowing crimson in the darkness, shoulders and claws illuminated by sparks of electricity as he played on the guitar. Style. Kevin wished he had a look like that.

It wasnt a grand dream, or even a noble one. It was a quintessentially Kevin dream, though. Life should be like that. Not full of fire and glorynot all the time. Rarely. Once or twice in a lifetime was enough for him.

Just full of mundane highs and lows. He couldnt be an adventurer. Hed tried. Right up until he, Joseph, Rose, and all of the others, equipped with relatively good gearenchanted evenhad gone on their first adventure, financed by Magnolia Reinhart.

Corusdeer skins were worth money. So were the horns. Heck, you could eat Corusdeer. But somehow, Kevin had completely forgotten that you had to skin animals to getskin.

Theyd given up and botched the job. Then they fought Eater Goatsand that was enough. Enough. As Magnolia Reinhart had probably intended, it brought home everything to the Earthers. We can die. And stabbing a screaming, writhing, biting Eater Goat until it stopped moving, even when he tore half of its jaw off and it kept trying to bite the spear impaling it through the head?

Kevin wondered how Erin had stood it. The Goblins told him she had fought in battles and killed people. To hear them talk about her, she was a one-woman army who could throw a knife through your skull, or melt you with a jar of acid.

The Destroyer. An old nickname. Kevin had asked why, and they, the original Goblins of the Flooded Waters tribe, including the Chieftain of Goblinhome herself, had told him about the time Erin Solstice killed her first thing in this world. A Hobgoblin Chieftain, with a pot of boiling oil.

That was the difference. Kevin knew it well. He knew it with Erinyet he had forgotten that the same applied to Goblins.

They were so chill that until they went to war, he thought they were quite similar. Redscar, trying to ride a skateboard, slamming into half the rocks down the slope until he gave up and declared it a stupid device. Calescent, pestering him to talk about the Carolina Reaper, the hottest pepper in the world. Chasing after Poisonbite whod stolen his Android and didnt want to give it back

Little Goblins obsessively crowded around, watching a video or listening to a song. And then? Finally noticing the Wyvern flights out, wondering where all the Ogres were. Rags coming over and

Well.

Rags had the Healer of Tenbault. That was what Kevin heard from the outpost theyd established in the foothills. He had only their word because the city of Tenbault was a storm of settling dust, flashes of lightobscured in the distance.

The [Shaman], Taganchiel, was first to arrive. Goblins posted sentry in the narrow pass leading up, or standing watch from the piled boulders and dirt looked up, but they didnt swing their bows or crossbows up at the Wyvern flying low.

The skies were safe from threats. The ground? Not so much.

Taganchiel shot down, with a chatter in the Goblins tongue Kevin missed. The lone Human in the camp hovered as a handful of Goblins raced around, the rest holding their positions. They were administering a stamina and healing potion to the snapping Wyvern, coaxing it back towards Tenbault.

Tagan, whats happening? Did Rags get her?

Yes! Humans too fast! Chieftain pursued! Gave orders. We go! Go!

The [Shaman] snapped. Kevin looked up as Taganchiel began casting more magic; two Hobs with shields and spears grunted as they grew two feet in height. The Wyvern flew back, and Kevin looked out and saw the Goblins fleeing.

The Humans were already coming after them. But Rags had planned out the retreat almost as much as the attack. The Wyverns dove, loading Goblins not on horse or wolf-back up, flying, ferrying them to the outpost. The rest proceeded on their mounts, and the Ogres ran, as fast as they could, lugging their steel and iron armor and weapons.

Heading for the outpost. From there, they loaded the Wyverns a second time and sent them flying back towards the High Passes.

Not far. They leap-frogged to the outpost, and from there, into hiding. It was too far to fly into the true High Passes, but there were caves, and increasingly inhospitable and remote ground. All the Goblins had to do was get ahead of the Humans and lose them. Then smaller bands could lay low until they got home. Or were picked up.

However. The plan was astray already. Rags didnt return. Nor did a quarter of the Goblin force. And the ones who did

Redfangs rode into camp and shook their heads as Taganchiel shouted at them. Poisonbite, whod been in the fighting, was similarly distressed. She looked up as the [Shaman] addressed the dirt-covered, bloodied fighters whod been in the thick of it.

Where is Chieftain Rags? Where is Redscar?

The leader of the Redfangs wasnt here either, or Thunderfur. Kevin saw Poisonbite dig at one ear. He saw, with a shock, a bit of dried red running from her pointed ears.

What? What?

Taganchiel shouted right in Poisonbites ear, but the Goblin was deaf. Crowdcaller Merdon. Many of the Redfangs were deaf, despite their precautions. Whether it was temporary or notit had made the retreat bloodier. They hadnt been able to hear their comrades, and some had failed to miss the maneuvers or gotten lost in the dust storm.

The rest? A Redfang slung herself out of the saddle, and finally roared an answer.

Redscar with Chieftain! Fighting! Followed! Cut north.

North? Why?

Followed. Humans fliers. We go!

Without further guidance, Taganchiel led the retreat as Poisonbite was disabled, and the other leadership, Badarrow, Snapjaw, Calescent, Redscar, were all occupied. He knew what to do. Wyverns flew off, but they had a far longer flight to the secondary dispersal points.

Meanwhile, the Goblins held the hill theyd set up in and waited, tending to their wounds. They knew the Humans would come after them.

So Kevin got to see Goblins make war. From a distance. He sat in their command outpost, nervously holding onto the self-defence wand. Watching as Taganchiel grimly cast spell after spell.

Even they hadnt predicted how furiously the Humans would come after them. The first group was hot on the heels of the Wyverns and riders, though this outpost was nearly fourteen miles south of Tenbault. Kevin waited, and waitedthen there was violence and death. Waiting as they regrouped, rapid loading of Goblins onto the Wyverns backs.

Fiercer fighting as the Goblins numbers dwindled and the Humans grew. Yet, even then

They finally reached the first line of Goblins. Kevin saw the infantry, the foot, charging up the slope. Six sallies of [Riders] had been broken, even with [Mages] in tow. It had been a bloodbath the last two times, but whoever was leading them hadnt had an organized force, just the fastest groups, and had been clearly incredulous that they were being beaten back by Goblins.

They had shields, which protected them from the slings and casual arrows loosed by non-[Archer] classes. However

The Thunderbow fired with a sound exactly like its name. Kevin saw a Hob, calmly standing behind the turret, aim and loose a gigantic bolt through two Humans charging with howls in the first rank. Another aimed her oversized crossbow, training it on a [Mage].

A bolt of lightning blinded Kevin. When he could see again, the Goblin was gone. One of her companions blinked at the charred body, then grabbed the Thunderbow, and with a roar, shifted the aim and took down the [Mage].

The second, a Redfang, didnt reload the damaged Thunderbow. He had so many stripes of red warpaint he was practically covered in the stuff. One for each fallen comrade, or so Kevin had been told.

He came down the slope, into the Humans skirmishing with the line of Goblin pikes. An axe in each hand; the Humans looked up as the howling Redfang cut through them. They were already breaking; his charge put them to flight.

Come back! Ecraw!

Taganchiel howled. The Redfang lit up with a faint, glowing, misty aura that saved him from the first two arrows that shot towards him; they glanced off like theyd hit rubber, not flesh.

However, Ecraw kept going, cutting down fleeing Humans, charging towards the army exchanging bolts with the Goblins in their superior cover. He was headed straight for an officer. He went through a [Footsoldier], five of the militia, even what might have been an [Armswoman] or

Kevin looked away as the Redfang fell. Taganchiel stared down as the Humans tried to regroup. He hissed.

Too many Humans. Now. Now, now!

The Wyverns had returned. Instead of flying back, though, two took off and strafed the clustered Humans below. They aimed up and one went down, screaming. But the other dropped a payload over the enemy and the screaming

What was that?

It looked likemist to Kevin. A spray of liquid? Hed heard of Rags dust-cloud tactic, and the Wyverns had dropped rocks too via Chests of Holding. But that? The [Shaman] bared his teeth.

Acid. Too much water. Only burns.

It only burned? Kevin blanched. He saw the Humans falling back, but they stopped long enough to end the Wyverns screaming.

Humans running!

No one cheered. The latest force was pulling back, but Poisonbite, whose hearing was partially restored from healing potions literally poured down her ears, snarled. Twice, her commando-Goblins had gone down to stab Humans, vanishing and reappearing, and Goblins had died as much as Humans.

Taganchiel! Break! Get Goblins going!

They had a reprieve to load the Wyverns. Howeverthe [Shaman] took one look at the loss of a Wyvernalready down since Rags had taken two with herand at the Humans already trying to regroup. He came to the same conclusion as Kevin had.

Cant get all Goblins on Wyverns. Have to run.

Run? You want run-run-stab-in-back death? Humans have horses!

Poisonbite scoffed. The [Shaman] gave her a steady glare.

Have to run. Scatter Humanswe go. Redfangs!

The Goblins finest looked up from where they were tending to their Carn Wolves and horses. Taganchiel gave them a long look.

Buy time.

They grinned, teeth and eyes flashing. Kevin just looked at them. How could they grin and laugh?

The attackers werent as hotly after the Goblins here as Rags, but since they could catch these Goblinsthey were arriving in more numbers. The Goblins had to scatter them first, though, so the disordered mob retreating, tending to the acid burns, looked up and saw four Wyverns, the only four left to Taganchiels force, strafing over them.

The memory of the acid and dust cloud attacks sent the Humans fleeing in a disorganized mass. The Wyverns pursued, screaming. By the time the Humans realized the Wyverns had no more cargo to jettison, they were already banking. They landed on the hill, loaded the last Goblins they could carry, and took off, overburdened, to the High Passes.

The rest of the Goblins and lone Human, the rear-guard, fled on every mount they had available, many running on foot. They might have been pursued, but there were still Goblins on the hill.

Forty Redfangs stood on the hill, banging swords on shields, hooting, loosing the Thunderbows down at the Humans. They dared the Humans to come and take it, aiming at the riders, if not their mounts.

So they did. The Redfangs collapsed the dirt walls of the pass, fought with the Thunderbows as the Humans came up, and made them work for every step. Then they set fire to the Thunderbows, broke them beyond repair, and fled on their mounts backs.

They held the enemy for nearly fifty minutes. Kevin had no idea how they did it. What he did know was this: when they caught up to the group running for the High Passes, there were only six left.

It had been one of the more successful battles as Goblins counted it. Not all of them had died. In fact, less than a hundred had. The slaughter at their outpost had been one-sided. Humans had run into waves of crossbow bolts until they stopped. Only at the end had it gotten bloody, along with casualties from fighting adventurers in the city.

However, a hundred Goblins had died. Kevin had even known some of them, briefly. Still, they had died and still they had followed Rags for this risky plan. They had picked their battles, and there was no chance of all of their tribe being wiped out like at the Floodplains.

Even so. Kevin rode with Poisonbite behind him. The Goblin was so tired shed tied a rope around her and Kevin, then either passed out or simply let the rope support her.

Shaman. Where we going?

After others. Where Ogres? On foot? Find them! We run!

Taganchiel snapped, looking back over his shoulder. They were being followed, despite the Redfangs sacrifice. Already, they were spotting Humans on an intercept course from the eastKevin wondered if theyd make it to the High Passes.

They found the Ogres, jogging at a good clip, but not towards their next rendezvous spot. Some of their Goblin companions were with them. One leaned out of her saddle and snapped at Taganchiel.

Humans.

She pointed the direction they had to go. Taganchiels eyes roamed backwards, then to the High Passes, then the other ascending foothills and parts of the great mountain range dividing Izril in half. He pointed, and without a word everyone broke right, racing in the only direction they could go. He looked at Kevin once, and the young man wondered what hed say.

The Goblin only shrugged. Rags had the Healer. Hopefully shed make it back. If they lived, they lived. If not?

Well. Poisonbite roused long enough to poke Kevin hard in the side.

Why gloomy? You wont die. Heh.

All of the Goblins found that insanely hilarious.

The thing about stories was that you told the same ones time and time again. Just in different ways. Sometimes, they werent stories you told; they just happened to you.

Loss, triumph, dangerand the thing about such stories, if there was an upside?

You didnt have to make the same mistakes. You didnt have to tell your part the same way twice.

It was rare that he took notice of the weather. Yet, even in his busy dayand every day was busy for King Itorin IIhe noticed how blustery it was. He remarked on it over breakfast with his family.

Immediate family, that was, and the ones in the capital. Itorin II was, in the way of many Terandrian monarchs, in the habit of spreading his bloodline around. So while he wasnt as prodigious as Calanfers royal family, which he was at war with, he had five offspring.

Two daughters, three sons. A good mix age and gender-wise. You could make doagain, like Calanferwith more of one than the other, but this was almost perfect. Sometimessometimes Itorin wondered if that too had been arranged.

He didnt like to think of that. Still, the [King] was a rather indulgent patriarch in private, and of the family in the capital, he often breakfasted with his youngest daughter and son, or elder daughter if she could spare the time from Ailendamus magical academy. For his two elder sons? If one was returned from his command in safety, but at the front, they would make small festivities of it. The other was in training. With the half-Elves.

Again, his two youngest were easiest as breakfasting companions. They loved to talk about tutoring, what they saw on the scrying orb they were glued to, songs from the Songstress, the Singer, questions about some part of ruling Ailendamus they found fascinating, badgering his wife, Oiena, to buy them a trinket while knowing he might indulge them

But today they were unusually eager to finish breakfast. Itorin II, somewhat content to let silence reign given all the people whod speak to him shortly, kept glancing out the window. It was, naturally, spelled, but he couldnt miss the leaves and even branches and dust positively whirling about the castle.

My. What a windy day. Did a [Weather Mage] perhaps commit an error?

That idle question garnered such looks of patented surprise and even scorn from his son and daughter that Itorin Zessoprical II was quite taken aback. His daughter, the youngest, but still already ninenine, how time flewOesca, informed her father patiently.

Its the Wind Runner, Father. May we be excused? We want to fly.

The King of Ailendamus, great superpower in the world, rising star to the faded kingdom of old, King Itorin II, Heir to the Lance-Arrows of Ailendamus, Keeper ofetcetera etcetera, gave his daughter a blank look.

Do what now?

They had to explain, and assure him that no, no one had been taking artifacts out of the vaults. Especially given what their Uncle would think of that. The name also made Itorin recall something.

Wasnt thatthe prisoner? The one whod resulted in the costly death of one of the Great Knights, and that operation in Izril that might lead to one of the Five Families wrath? The one that had obsessed Rhisveri so?

When Itorin finally came to the window, he saw her. Just like yesterday, when Rhisveri had thrown a huge tantrum for reasons beyond him. He locked eyes with the Wind Runner of Reizmelt, the Courier from the scrying orb.

Ryoka Griffin.

She was outside the castle, summoning the wind to blow mightily. Whirling around this part of Ailendamus in such ferocity

No, wild grace. Mighty gusts of wind, yes, but only terrifying in a way that exhilarated, as you felt when you beheld a mighty storm without rain, whipping trees and grass around. When you realized how mighty nature was.

The air whipped at her dark hair. Her silk guest clothing was light purple running to green jade, and it blew in a way about her naturally as the wind snatched at it that some movie directors paid lots of money to emulate.

Her eyes were open wide, and she had a strange smile on her lips. Patently mysterious. As if this wasnt just weather magic, but something else. Oh yes, and one more thing.

Itorin II could see her quite well because she stood, arms outstretched, facing towards him. All fine, all understandable, but he was in Ailendamus palace. It didnt exactly have a 360-degree view all around. In fact, the royal chambers were quite high up.

Thusly, the Wind Runner was standing on top of a tower. Right on the edge, in fact, as the wind blew around her. Facing the royal chambers.

Oesca and Ivenius pointed at Ryoka, the older [Prince] bouncing on his feet like he was as young as his sister was and not a [Squire] in training.

Itorin vaguely wondered if he should call the guard. What was she doing up there? How did she know where the royal chambers were?

Is that Duke Rhisverisguest?

Oiena sounded horrified, as a former [Princess] of Taimaguros might. Itorin II didnt immediately respond. Ryoka Griffin smiled at him, with that same enigmatic look. Then she bowed.

Only then did Itorin realize that a pair of armored figures wearing the colors of the Order of the Thirsting Veil were doggedly trying to climb up the tall tower towards her. More were gathered below, but the Wind Runner didnt appear concerned as one finally reached the lip of the tower and hauled herself up. She just smiled, lifted something up, and jumped.

Oiena gasped and Itorin went to shield his son and daughters eyes before they saw the splat. And he knew from experience it wasnt a splat. It wassomething you never forgot.

Yet her limp body did not bounce from the roof and land terribly still far below. Rather, the Wind Runner leapt off the tower as the [Knight] reached for herand flew.

For a tenuous second, her bare feet began to descend. Then her momentum shifted. She flew up as the wind blew in a fierce updraft. Up. Itorins mouth opened. He had seen [Mages] fly. He had used flying artifacts himselfwho didnt, when they had the chance?

But this?

Shes flying! I told you, Father! Look, look!

Oesca danced, pointing with simple delight. The Wind Runner held onto something that ballooned out above her. Itorin II recognized it. It was not the strange, triangular contraption shed used to fly in her dramatic run, or even her Windsuit; he supposed those things had been taken away from her, if he even knew they existed.

No, this was a simple parachute. Abedsheet.

Silk. Strained as it inflated perfectly in the wind. Ryoka Griffin soared past the [Knight] who made a grab for her and nearly fell off the tower. She floated down and away as the King of Ailendamus watched.

Pay no attention to the barefoot runner with the bedsheet.

Of course, she got in trouble. No less than the captain of the guard was ready to slap her in irons and beat her for daring to interrupt the royal family. To which the Wind Runner vouchsafed one thing that kept her alive before the [Prince] and [Princess] came running to demand flying lessons.

Duke Rhisveri hasnt prohibited me from using my powers.

The [Royal Captain] hesitated. He stared at the angry Thirsting Veil [Knights], at Ryoka, and at the band on her wrist supposed to lock down her magical powers.

Which it did. All her amazing magical powers like casting uh, [Flashlight]. Ryoka Griffin knew that he knew what it was. She gave him a big, unhelpful smile.

Take it up with Duke Rhisveri.

She saw how his eyes flickered at that. Even if they didnt know he was the true power, the Duke was still the Duke, and he had a reputation. Ryoka was still ready for some impositions, but then came a striding figure.

Ryoka Griffin. We must speak, if the winds say it so. By earth and sea, by land and tree, will you speak with me?

The Wind Runner turned. To her eyes, a limpingwoman made out of branches turned to stone came her way, her bark fossilized with time, damaged with battles or trials long gone. A mask hung around her neck, a tiny version of the one in the Court of Masks, but one shaped with exquisite care, more than those there.

It was a perfect replica of what everyone saw, and Ryoka did after she adjusted her perspective. A shortbut not too shortDwarf woman, almost as old, hair gone white rather than grey.

The [Captain of the Guard] instantly turned and bowed.

Lady Fithea! Forgive the interruption. We were just attending to a matter of royal security. We did not intend to disrupt the gardens. Rather, the culprit

Instantly, Ryoka noticed that the [Guards] hurried off the grass theyd been standing on. They looked somewhat apprehensively at the woman they knew as the Conservator of Forests, a high-ranking position in Ailendamus.

Fithea gave the man a blank look. Her voice was no different than it had been in the Court of Masks. Dry, cracked, but with a spark of life.

You are pardoned. I must speak to Ryoka Griffin. Privately.

Yes, Lady Fithea, but

The Dwarf woman stared at the [Royal Captain]. He looked ready to insist, but then came two screaming figures.

Wind Runner! Wind Runner! We want to fly!

The [Prince] and [Princess], both with their friends, and followed more timidly by a gaggle of Ryokas biggest fans. The [Royal Captain] tried to block the [Princess] from this miscreant. Upon which point she grew vexed at him.

Ryoka felt bad for the man. But she wasnt done. So she winked, checked to see if she still had a certain monarchs attention. She thought she did, although his face wasnt in the royal quarters.

I can see Im disturbing the peace. And the grass. So Ill move away. Lady Fithea, I would be delighted to speak to you. Maybe in an hour? Ill just step over here

So saying, and before they could grab her, the wind blew up her sailcloth again and she glided over the heads of the guards, and awed children. Like a herd of cattle following the parasailer, they raced after her as she flew away.

All I need now is some candy. Actuallyisnt that an activity back home? Someone flies around and scatters candy for kids? And here I thought I was the first person to channel Mary Poppins.

Ryoka Griffin landed. She turned, and her fans swept around her, begging to use the bedsheets. For a second, the Wind Runner remembered kids doing this for the first time. She looked towards the palace, where a [King] no less had come out to talk with the royal guard. She looked at the bangle on her arm, imprisoning her.

I have done this before. Not in the same way. Not exactly like this. But it was familiar. This timeRyoka Griffin bent down.

Im sorry, I didnt realize I was in the presence of royalty. Your Majesty, Princess Oesca, I think? And Prince Ivenius? Good morning to you! I hope I didnt disturb you?

The Courier sketched a bow. The [Princess] drew up short and everyone else drew back as they realized they had crowded in front of her in their excitement. Rank still existed in Ailendamus. The [Prince] caught himself and the boy, roughly Hethons age, maybe a bit younger, sketched a guilty bow.

Courier Griffin.

Igreet you, Courier Griffin. I am Princess Oesca. But I hope you will not wait on my title.

Oesca sounded unhappy. As a child might, when reminded of her rank as an impediment to fun. Oesca and Ivenius, named after their parents. Naming traditions. Ryoka had researched all this. She smiled.

Not at all. If I may, I could call youOesca? Im the Wind Runner of Reizmelt. I think youve heard of me?

You can make people fly. Could Ifly?

The girl asked eagerly. Ryoka saw a woman sprinting at her, faster than the worried [Knights].

Holy crap, thats one angry [Nursemaid].

Well, in for a pinch of pain, in for a wagonload. That was the Ryoka way. And if she wanted to make an impactshe hadnt made one yet. So she winked at Oesca.

I can indeed, Oesca. You could even fly around like I did. Although I dont know if your guardians would let you go so high.

Oescas lips twisted unhappily. As if Ryoka was going to let her soar hundreds of feet in the air holding a bedsheet, friendly wind or not.

They wouldnt, I fear. And I should hate for you to get in trouble, Miss Griffin. Did that young man find you yesterday? I directed him towards you, but I heard little of his fate.

Sammial? Ryoka blinked.

He did indeed. Thank you for that. I should thank you, Princess Oesca! As I was saying. If it was just you, Im afraid I cant let you fly alone that high. Everyone can certainly sail around on the ground. But if its not just you. Well. Would you like to go for a ride?

She held out a hand, and smiled, a twinkle in her eye. The twinkle of little girls who broke laws and rebelled. She still had a bit. She wasnt surebut then Oesca glanced over her shoulder.

Your Highness! [Protect the Innocent]! [Protect the Innocent]! Step away from thatyour Highness!

The [Carer] racing towards Ryoka was clearly trying to use a Skill and failing. Oesca stared at her, the adults, and then at Ryoka. She took Ryokas hand, and gasped as Ryoka put a hand under her shoulder.

Hold tight. And no one else beg me for this later. Its special. Get your parents permission.

She winked at Ivenius. Then Ryoka gripped Oesca tightly with one arm, and lifted the bedsheet parachute with the other. The wind dragged them up as the [Carer] leapt. She had a good pounce. But even so, she missed and dove head-first into one of the [Prince]s buddies as Ryoka and Oesca shot up into the air.

The [Princess] scream made her father and the people on the ground panic like hell. But it was only of surprise for the first, dizzying second of ascent. Then she screamed and laughedin delight. Ryoka Griffin held on hard, wishing shed practiced this. But the loop of cloth on her hand meant she wasnt one grip away from dropping both of them. She kept tight hold of Oesca.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, dont drop her.Next time I need to make a harness or an easier way to hold onto them!

However, the Princess of Ailendamus knew none of this. She waved with both arms in an astonishing display of trust at the people below, the envious children, as she flew around the palace, and awed people looked up. Ryoka saw a snappily dressed man tilt his head so far back he nearly fell backwards. She nodded at Baron Regalius.

He wasnt the only person who saw Ryoka that day. A better question was who didnt see her. While children were first to know, it was hard to miss a flying Courier. The Wind Runner was in Ailendamus. And she was seen, skipping across the ground with the [Princess] of Ailendamus no less, racing across the gardens, as the wind blew strongly. Laughing with the delighted girl in tow.

Right up until the Great Knight, Gilaw, caught up to her, and with an amazing flying drop-kick, literally kicked Ryoka Griffin out of the air before catching the [Princess] in her arms.

No one said you didnt pay the price for troublemaking.

Ryoka Griffin actually missed a lot of the punishment and haranguing. Mostly because King Itorin II, the furious [Caretakers], Royal Captain, and all the others, even Rhisveri, took one look at her curled up on the ground as Oesca berated Gilaw, and felt bad for her.

It was an amazing flying kick. Ryoka had to hand it to Gilawor she would if she could move. The Great Knight, who Ryoka deeply suspected to be some kind of avian immortal, had gotten nearly fifteen feet of air.

And shed still managed to not only catch Oesca, but hit Ryoka so hard that she broke two ribs and ruptured her stomach.

Punishment had been administered, so Ryoka actually left the [Healer]s without any more flying done two hours later. Ribs were bound with a poultice-infused gauze, and theyd actually spot-applied potion to her stomach. Ryoka was just grateful she had no appendix anymore or Gilaw might have popped it.

Miss Griffin, by order of the throne, you are to refrain from laying hands on the royal family without express permission and supervision. You will also confine yourmobilityto the royal grounds and not the palace itself.

One of the [Knights], Dame Chorisa, informed Ryoka with a blank face. Ryoka, wincing, put her hand over her ribs.

Duly noted. Do they want me? The royal family, that is.

They are at their lessons.

Good, good. I dont think the winds particularly nice right now. Was thatGreat Knight Gilaw who hit me?

Lightly, yes, Courier Griffin. She was defending the royal family.

Lightly?

The Thirsting Veil Knights gave her bright smiles behind their visors, Ryoka was sure, that mixed schadenfreude withRyoka suspecteda bit of familiarity.

The Wind Runner began walking down the corridor, now perceiving a certain amount of looks her way, but she spoke to Chorisa.

Can I askwhat Order of [Knight] is Gilaw?

The Great Knight is anindependent [Knight]. A powerful one, as is obvious.

Very. When did she appear?

Chorisa exchanged a glance with the other invisible [Knights].

It must have been twelve years ago she was accepted into Ailendamus service. She is anunusual case, Miss Griffin. Zealous beyond reproach. Mute, however, and prone to overeagerness in some regards. Without manners or social graces, but she is entrusted to monster-slaying and guardianship of some of the most important members of Ailendamus.

She was approving about the zealous part, but Ryoka swore she saw a patch of air wince at the overeager part.

Especially on the training courts.

Another [Knight] muttered. Ryoka, wincing, nodded. Dame Chorisa eyed her, then walked in front of Ryoka and came to a stop. It was walk into her or stop, so Ryoka stopped.

Miss Griffin, regarding your conduct. You have invalidated my orders watchfulness in front of the royal family. In light of your specific nature as Duke Rhisverisguest, you were allowed some licenses other prisoners of state are not. However, if you conduct yourself so again, we will be forced to address the issue.

Her blank face but slightly clenched jaw told Ryoka exactly what shed like to do. The Wind Runner smiled winsomely.

Thank you for being forthright, Dame Chorisa. Ill keep it in mind.

That wasnt the response Chorisa had been expecting, nor was it characteristic of Ryoka. She gave Ryoka a narrow-eyed glance.

My warning

Completely understood. You have to do what you have to do. Ill hear you out if I make any errors you feel cross the line.

Ryoka waited a beat.

Good luck in stopping me.

Before Chorisa could respond. Ryoka glanced around.

And now, I would like to visit Lady Fithea, the Conservator of the Forest. I have an invitation. Can you escort me there?

Chorisa looked like she wanted to escort Ryoka to a locker and keep her in there. But she blinked at Fitheas name.

Lady Fithea? That would be the private section of the palace. The Estexil Wing. Adjacent to the Court of Masks. Visitors are not allowed license to entereven Baron Regalius or a [General] would be prohibited to enter.

Well, she wants to meet with me. You can ask her, but we could go over rather than waste time. Court of Masks, you said? I know the way.

Ryoka began to trot down the corridors. Chorisa hesitated, then strode after Ryoka.

We will escort you and confirm you have an appointment. Dame Lacres.

Another figure materialized and marched off. Chorisa followed Ryoka, speaking hotly as the Wind Runner practically skipped along.

If you disturb the peace again, Miss Griffin, we will not let it go unaddressed.

Mhm. Yep.

This is not an idle threat. Guest or not

I understand. What, are you going to beat me with sticks?

We are not barbarians.

Ah, so youll beat me up in private. Want to go hand-to-hand? I like non-lethal fistfights. You can even book a timeslot in the Ryoka-asskicking schedule. Hows tonight sound? Ill take advance payment on any beatdowns.

Chorisas mouth worked. Ryoka smiled to herself.

Well. She didnt have to change all the best scenes.

They were being followed. Doggedly; with literal dogs, or so the Goblins speculated. Kevin didnt actually see them.

Both sides were using camouflage and speed Skills, and Poisonbite was leading them now, so she was making the best use of her Skills, which were suited to the job. Even soshe scowled as she tossed more of the [Thief]-brand scent-destroyer on their trail.

Too many Humans. Too fast. Place to hide? No good. Place to die?

She gave the others a thumbs-up shed learned from Kevin. In short, as Kevin translated it, the Goblins had no way to find a hiding spot. Not with the Humans being able to track them and literally overturn every nook and cranny.

They could find a place to hole up and hope to outlast or just make a glorious last stand. The Goblins accepted this with equanimity, to some extent. They didnt want to die, but they werent going to be paralyzed by the thought of it.

Now, the Human and Ogres were a bit more unhappy by the idea. Especially the Ogres.

Somo, the lead Ogre warrior from the clan shed been poached from, rumbled and checked her shiny shield.

No dying. Bring back big birds.

Wyverns? Cant. Ogres cant fly.

Poisonbite sneered. Somo rumbled.

Chieftain promised potions and fighting. Not death.

There were ten Ogres present. All of whom looked pretty upset at the idea of dying. Evendangerously upset. The Goblins were remarkably calm; the tallest Goblin was shy of seven feet here, and they were hobs. The Ogres were nine feet tall or larger. They had literally knocked down Tenbaults gates and Kevin saw blood on their weapons. Even Gold-ranks didnt like fighting Ogres en-masse, and these ones had discipline.

And armor.

Not die. You use Skill. You use magic.

Somo insisted, urgently, pointing a huge maul she wielded one-handed at Taganchiel, then Poisonbite. Both Goblins shrugged.

No good magic or Skills left. High Passeswe climb and look for good spot? Maybe climb so fast Humans dont catch?

Good way to find Gargoyles or Eater Goats. Or nastier. Lets do.

Poisonbite grinned. It certainly sounded like a better option than a slaughter in a cave mouth. They peered up at the mountains.

It was Kevin who decided he had to make a stand. He cleared his throat.

Leave me behind. Ill only be a nuisance. I can slow them down. Tie me up and Ill tell them you went the wrong way.

The Goblins glanced at Kevin. Poisonbite slapped him on the shoulder.

Smart! You dont die, we maybe die less.

She fished around for some rope. Conversationally, she looked at Kevin.

Maybe Humans dont believe. Truth stones. If kill you, can I have skateboard?

He began sweating instantly. Kevin hadnt thought of that, but even so, he held out his wrists to bind up convincingly. It wasnt much, but it was a Kevin-level sacrifice.

It was Somo who interrupted. The other Ogres werent deaf, although given their own language, it was doubtful how much theyd completely gotten of the Goblins own stylistic dialogue. But it was clear they werent happy. One was clearly of the opinion, lets smash these Goblins for getting us killed before we die in a clear display of Ogre-logic.

Somo was a bit smarter, though, and smacked him so hard Kevin saw the ground actually move a bit under his feet. The Ogre, cross-eyed, slunk back in line as she snapped.

No death! No death! Goblins wrong!

She waved a club. Instantly, Poisonbite went for the dagger at her wrist. She casually held a deadly, glowing blade coated in poison as she pretended to fiddle with Kevins bindings, smiling at him. She was ready to turn and throw, but Taganchiel gave her a warning look.

Not die if we can help it, Somo. Come, climb.

No. Goblins wrong. Not die. Not climb. Betterway.

Somo was conferring with the other Ogres. She frowned mightily, sniffed the air, and checked the mountains nearest to her. She looked at the others.

Close?

They were doing the same things as her. But they apparently couldnt tell, so one got a better sense. Not by checking the mountain, but by stomping over to the nearest tree, tearing off a branch, and munching on it. Another scooped up some dirt, found a stone, and began to chew.

The Goblins and Kevin both stared. Yet Somo got an answer as an Ogre nodded. She turned to Taganchiel.

Not climb. Better way. Maybe die. Maybe. Humans die too. Not follow long.

She stressed maybe as if it was a huge accomplishment. Which, to be fairTaganchiel raised his brows.

Redfangs dont know other way.

Red-fang. Not Ogres. Ogres know hills. Ogres gohere.

Somo made a snorting sound and spat. She gestured around the lower-lying areas of the High Passes on the Humans side, which, to be fair, the Redfang Tribe had seldom if ever colonized. If other Tribes had, they werent here and had died.

Ogres had more staying power. Ogres had memory. Ogres were also not like onions and got no jokes in that regard, Kevin had learned.

Tastes like old place. Old place. We not go up. We go there.

Somo pointed. Apparently they knew something. The Goblins began to move, after the short break, and the jogging Ogres were suddenly leading. They broke out of the narrow forest theyd been using for cover, yet there was a confidence that sped the step. Taganchiel asked the obvious.

Where are we going?

Down. Bad. Dangerous. Maybe die. Maybe. Humans not follow long. Not stay long. Bad stay long. Maybe die. Maybe

Somo repeated herself. Getting nervous. And she hadnt been nervous, even when she heard they were raiding Tenbault. Shed only demanded a 60% cut of all mana potions seized.

Kevin traded a glance with Poisonbite. Taganchiel patiently raised his eyebrows.

Where are we going, Somo?

Down. Into dark place. Ogres know. Ogres came. Ogresdont go anymore.

Kevinreally didnt like the sound of that. But it still beat having no place at all. He gulped.

Whats down there, Somo? You sound nervous. Uh, whats there to fear?

Her head turned. She did not look confident at all.

Thing many Ogres die. Place big clan once go. Fiveno, fifteen lives ago.

Fifteen lives? Oh, she meant fifteen generations. Kevin wondered how long that was. Ogres could live a long timehe licked his lips.

What tribe? What happened? Whats there?

Maybe gone. Maybe all gone!

Somo looked happy at the idea. Then she frowned.

Maybe still there. Big clan die. Somo and nine Ogres and Goblinsnot live long. Humans die too, though.

That seemed to be some consolation. Kevin really didnt like this. Taganchiel didnt either.

What tribe?

Thousand Warriors Clan.

Kevin traded a look with the others. One of the surviving Redfangs slowly began checking her weapons, grinning as her friend traced new lines of red on her skin. Somo waited.

Want know why clan famous?

Uhwhats down there, Somo? What got the Thousand Warriors Clan? Somo, whats there to fear, exactly?

She licked her lips as her Ogres led her unerringly towards the entrance to below, ahead of the Humans who had spotted them. The Ogre came to a stop, and pointed, as the stone changed, and they found a tiny crack in the foot of the mountain. That led to strange, ghostly granite, so hard even Poisonbites dagger could make no impression. Down into darkness. Down into the deeps.

What did Ogres fear?

Drums. Drums in the darkness.

Ryoka Griffin missed meeting Fithea. She was actually busy with work, but she gave orders that Ryoka Griffin be admitted past the Golem Sentries in this private wing of the palace.

Not the Order of the Thirsting Veil, which made them mad as could be. Ryoka also wondered if this was against Rhisveris orders.

She had not missed the way the Wyrm looked at her when she taunted him with the magical obol. However, he had refrained from summoning her instantly.

Fithea, thoughshe looked at Ryoka differently. Like, well, the last member of a dying species seeing hope for the first time. It bordered on maniacal, having gone way past obsessive.

Ryoka just hoped it would help. Meanwhile, she realized she had just been invited into the immortals wing of the palace.

And there were no minders. Ryoka hurried along the corridors, and noticed a few things at once.

Good gracious, its dirty here.

No cleaning staff were presumably allowed here, so it looked like someone literally just blasted a tidal wave spell through the corridors every now and then. Ryoka suspected that because of the streaks of dirt on the marble.

And feathers. Someone had a feather problem. Evendandruff? Huge dandruff. There were discarded seeds here and there, footprints

Ryoka Griffin wished she had slippers as she padded bare-foot down corridor after corridor. Yesthis was definitely a lair of multiple people. It even had an entrance from the Court of Masks.

Of course. Sophridel, the Elemental of Masks, ensured their secrecy. It was the caretaker of the Court of Masks. Rhisveri was the boss, or at least, the first among equals. Probably the boss.

So what was Fithea? Refugee? Guest? Another sharer of power? Gilawshe was younger.

A lot younger. Compared to all three, she was practically a baby. Still old enough to pretend to be a Great Knight and dangerous as all hell if a light kick could nearly kill Ryoka, but the Wind Runners senses were not to be fooled.

She was still not an expert on the wind, her running was arguably surpassed by the best of both worlds, and so on, but she was probably a reigning expert in immortal studies. She could tell Gilaw was young.

Who else was here, though? That was the question. Ryoka got her first answer soon enough. She came to what looked like a hallway leading to various activity-rooms. The sound of splashing water hinted at a bath, or pool. Ryoka peeked into open doorways; there werent many doors here, although shed passed by what might have been the living quarters back a ways.

Library. Huh. I wonder if theres an immortal librarian. If its an orangutang, Im leaving. Lets see. Is that a greenhouse? Wowoh.

She nearly stopped in the verdant place, which was probably Fitheas, but the pool was on the other side and Ryoka just had to look inside. She peered through the door, and saw a huge, just, multiple-olympic-pool sized body of water. Noa practical lake in itself. Was there a dimensional spell on the room?

There had to be! Ryoka gaped up at the sunny ceiling, which looked like it was actually outside. Onto a beach on the far end, and what looked like a damn reef and other underwater nods. She heard laughter, the clink of glass.

so there I was. And I realizetheyre flirting with me. Both of them!

No. Twins? What did you do?

Nothing. Do you think Im going to shed my disguise? Rhisveri the mighty told me to keep it quiet. But could you believe it? Prince and princess of? Do you think they were serious?

I dont know. I wish I could travel.

Maybe next time you can come with. I was justGilaw, come in. You can swim in that form?

A defiant womans voice, rather like a squawk, but translated through a Human set of vocal chords, answered.

Suit yourself, but were not coming over. You have to learn to swimcome on. Aunt Fithea! Aunt Fithea, tell Gilaw to stop being silly and

A laughing group was in the middle of the body of water. They were teasing a dark-skinned woman with her huge mane of hair. She looked decidedly younger, despite the illusory spell, as she nervously peered into the water she was definitely afraid of entering. Not that she should have feared drowning.

Not among the company of the laughing group inside. They werent actually all that Human. Maybe it was inbreeding with Drowned Folks or a mistyping of legendsor theyd grown more Human in later legends. But some had beautiful scales, rather than skin.

Ryoka saw light silver scales running down one young mans arms. Gills, or something, and fin-like protrusions. Webbed fingers.

Completely Human on others. There were only, oh, eleven she saw visible. Eleven. Yet they swam around, as energetic as could be. With floating dishes, gossiping, talking about their experience on land, as fast in the water as Ryoka was on land. Maybe faster.

After all. They had huge tails, some forked, others the single flipper you imagined. Some didnt have scales, but a sharks skin. Some had predatory teeth, others not.

Neverthelessthey were definitely Mermaids. A laughing young man turned sun-bronzed skin to the door. He saw Ryoka instead of Fithea and went still. Gilaw, shuffling away from the water, glanced up.

Uh.

Ryoka had not expected Merfolk of all species. It made sense. Drowned Folk existed. Unicorns had once existed. Why not Mermaids? But she just hadnt

A Human! An intruder! Shes seen us!

One of the Merfolk screamed. He pointed at Ryoka with a look of such genuine terror Ryoka backed up.

No, wait. I was invited

Call Rhisveri! Flee! Flee! Gilaw, run!

They dove so fast Ryoka didnt even get a chance to answer. Gilaw looked as the Merfolk dove, and Ryoka felt the underwater panic vibrating beneath her. Gilaw rose, her eyes flashing.

Oh shit. Gilaw, Fithea invited me. Fithea

Too late. The Great Knight charged at her with a cawing scream. One fist raisedand she did look like she knew how to brawl. Ryoka backed up.

Gilaw, dont

The immortal leapt. It was a predatory strike, and it might have actually torn out Ryokas stomach or throat, for all it wasnt the way Humans should move. It would have worked, but Gilaw ran into a wall of wind. It flipped her into the pool.

She landed, eyes wide, and immediately began thrashing and drowning, making screaming protests. Ryoka hesitated, but she saw the Merfolk moving in the water below.

Oh shit, were those weapons? Ryoka didnt wait to find out. She ran for it. She dashed down the hallway, hoping to get back before Gilaw found her, so Fithea could sort this out. But she heard the angry, wet Great Knight tearing after her, so Ryoka dodged left, praying Gilaw didnt have a sense of smell, and opened the first door she came to and shut herself in.

That was when she met the immortal named Menorkel.

It was obvious after mere moments of descending into the darkness that this place was not natural. Kevin felt it in his bones.

The strata of the rock was uniform. Some ultra-tough material even Poisonbite couldnt chip a flake off of, at least not on the move. They had to move quickly too; the Humans had seen them entering and were coming.

A big army. Yet the Goblins were cheerful. As one Redfang, Atter, cheerfully explained to Kevin, this was a good place to die.

No light. Humans hate no light. Small tunnels. Good to fight many in. Except [Fireballs].

She was a former Mountain City Hobgoblin, hence her advanced command of linguistics. Compared to that, the Redfang next to her, a normal-sized Goblin, yet wearing the Redfang paint, was practically unintelligible and had no Shaman-name. He was called Pillowhead.

There was a difference in Antinium and Goblin naming conventions. Antinium were random, like Kevin2 and Infinitypear. Pillowhead? Kevin stared at the pillow strapped to the back of the Goblins head.

Why does he have a pillow on the back of his head?

Good sleep. Also, cheap helmet. If he dies, he gets to sleep a long time comfortably.

Atter assured Kevin. Pillowhead, who had grunted after surviving the outpost stand, gave Kevin an amiable grunt. Kevin looked at them.

He had known them for exactly two minutes by name and already he didnt want either to die. Die they might, though. Taganchiel had placed a ward at the entrance. He was monitoring it as they fled, following Poisonbite now, because her eyes were best and the Ogres only knew this place, not the layout.

Down they went. Through smooth stone tunnels. Debris became increasingly apparent, and some kind of detritus on the ground. None to obstruct movement, but it proved someone had been here.

No. Someone had built this place. Kevin shined a wand up and saw the strange, pale stone. Why was it so cavernous yet so clearly made? The answer came to him as they passed by a more intact part of the caves. He gasped. Atter made a sound.

Oh. Dwarves.

The part of the tunnel not worn to craggy stone was clearly a road, and the walls were not yet fully obscured. Kevin saw cut stone, old reliefs on the walls, depicting some design or muralhe swung the wand of light around.

Oh no. He had a bad feeling about this, and that was about as clichd as

Ward gone. Humans behind. Hurry. They are coming.

Taganchiel snapped. Kevin looked at him.

Dont say that.

What? Humans coming. They are

Dont say it like that, Tagan. Justtrust me.

It was too silent down here. The Goblins moved, and the heavy tromp of the Ogres and the jingling of armor was the only sound Kevin heard. But he had been promised something. Drums. Drums in the

Perhaps no one was here anymore? Kevin really, really doubted it. More likely, whatever was here might not have known there were intruders yet. However, any hopes of that ended as their pursuers entered the caves, spreading out through the branching tunnels, or as Kevin now knew, hallways. They made a lot of sound, a furious din in the distance.

They had to come on foot, probably, so it was a foot-race, but the Goblins were slowing. They felt it too.

Something was down there. Something Kevin really didnt want to meet. He didnt want a damn magic ring either. Invisibility spells were cheap and hed seen Ryokas missing fingers.

All of Kevins worst fears were crescendoing in his head into a fever of paranoia. He almost wanted something to pop out as the Goblins marched downwards. Just get it over with! What was it, Crelers? Evil horrors? Actually

Atter. How do you know this is a Dwarf-place? Is it obvious?

Mountain. Underground? We lived in Dwarf-place. Many around. This one old. Very old.

The Hobgoblins voice made Poisonbite scowl for breaking silence-discipline, but since they were already followed, she let it slide. Kevin nodded, gulped.

Sowhat could be lurking down here?

Whatever kills Dwarves. Could be bad. Horrific-death.

Great. Uhone last question?

Mm?

Do, uh, Balrogs exist? Ever heard of one?

He really had to know. Atter glanced at Taganchiel. She was about to dispel his fears that this particular horror was unknown to her when it happened.

Thum.

The first beat rose upwards from the ground. An earth-shaking sound. It made the Goblins and Ogres freeze. It made Kevin pee, just a bit.

Were all dead.

Even the Humans stopped for a second. Everyone turned their heads wildly, setting themselves, waiting for an attack. But Kevin knew. Oh, he knew. That sound was huge, and in this confined space, it echoed for perhaps miles. It had come from far away.

It was the sound of something coming. Something waking up. He heard it again as Poisonbite wavered. Then she glanced over her shoulder, bared her teeth. Light from behind them.

Run! Run or die!

The Goblins ran. Now, Kevin heard shouts.

There they are! Get the monsters! To me! To me!

Someone was blowing a horn, and the pursuers converged, finding the tunnel the Goblins were heading down. Kevin pumped his arms and legs, and one of the Goblins turnedtossed something down and the howls of pain told Kevin they had deployed a trap.

Even so. It was a race downwards. Yet everyone was waiting. Waiting for the next

Thum.

That was the sound it made. The sound of a drum, the boom of it in your bones. Less loud this time? Perhaps. The first had been a wakeup call. But this next one, when it came, did not leave the silence lingering long.

Thum. Thum.

The beats began. Picking up in speed. Kevin heard them, the boom of something in the darkness. They were coming. Oh yes.

Thum. Thum. Thum. Thum.

And the drumbeats were picking up in tempo. Even the pursuers seemed nervousbut it meant they picked up speed instead. They wanted the Goblins dead now, before this trick or external threat got them.

The Goblins and Ogres sprinted into a huge space, some giant walkway or gathering point, mere seconds before the Humans. Somo actually turned and struck low someone charging after her. There was a screampursuit slowed a bit as the Humans realized they still had to fight at the end.

Regroup! Box them in!

More pursuers were coming out of other tunnels. Poisonbites head whirled; she saw the other pathways, and pointed straight down the huge intersection.

This way!

Thats towards the drums!

Kevin yelped. Somo groaned.

No, no. Bad. Other way!

Poisonbite just snarled. She did an amazing dive sideways and a crackling ray blasted the stone. Everyone started running after her, dodging as Taganchiel shot magic back.

We find death or we die! Too many Humans!

Thumthumthumthumthumthum

It was fast now, a rhythmic beat Kevin was amazed by. Whoever was heralding their imminent horrific demise also had amazing beat control. Well, if movies could do itthe thunderous sounds were a quick rhythm, just a bit slower than his terrified heartbeat.

Something was coming. Poisonbite held up a claw. She stared ahead.

Something

The Goblins, Ogres and Human slowed in their mad dash. They hesitated, but an army was coming towards them from the rear. Kevin heard the drumbeats change one last time.

Thum-thum thum thum. Thu-thu-thum. Thum. Thum thum.

Kevin stumbled. He slowed, as Poisonbite pointed and everyone ran left, staring at something coming out of the darkness. Wait a second. That was a half-beat. That was

Dude. Its got a rhythm.

That wasnt the sonorous war-drums hed expected. That sounded like something else, suddenly. Terrifying in the darkness, loud as everything. But it also sounded like

Music. Someone had interrupted the steady downbeat, throwing in double-thums and a changing tempo. It was music.

Oh. And it was getting louder. So loud that Kevin didnt even hear Poisonbite screaming at them. He saw her gesturing, pointing. Get to the side! Yet the world was filled with the drums.

Thum-thum-thum-thum

Now it was a march. Thunder in the caverns. The Humans slowed, weapons raised, shining lights into the darkness, illuminating the Goblins, the Ogres, Kevin

And the things coming up from the depths.

They came out of the darkness in ranks. Not with the Redfangs military strictness, but shoulder-to-shoulder, with huge, swinging steps. Just seventeen of them. Seventeen, to face hundreds of Humans.

They were not as tall as Somos people. Yet each one was huge, their skin surprisingly more pale from lack of light. They carried crude weapons by the standards of civilization, but still, huge clubs of bone or axes. Somo backed up, weapon raised, snarling in alarm. She respected these warriors. Cousins of hers.

Trolls.

Seventeen Trolls thundered down the intersection to the beating of that drum. Weapons raised, ignoring the arrows and spells trying to hurt them. They marched past Goblins and Ogres, not oblivious, just confident. The Humans brought up weapons and shields, but they were not prepared. For Trolls or

The drums! It was so loud, now, Kevin couldnt even tell if his heart was working. He only heard that terrifying sound, and he was sure it was no different even for the Humans. A [Mage] was screaming a spell. For a second Kevin heard silence as the enchantm

THUM.

He actually heard the sound blow apart the spell. No one could hear a thing! Yet the Trolls moved, and as the drums rolled, they struck.

Thum thum thum thum!

Every time the drum struck, the Troll warriors echoed it with mace and axe. A fast, yet rhythmic onslaught. They tore forwards, collapsing the first line of Humans like they were made of paper. Kevin was astonished. Yet there was no cohesion in the defenders.

The drum. It was throwing off the other warriors! It was so loud, so pervasive that it echoed through Kevins soul with every reverberation. It threw off the natural timing of the [Warriors], the shouted orders, a hostile rhythm they didnt know and couldnt predict on first contact. They couldnt hear orders, or Skills, or the shouts to retreat or regroup.

The Trolls didnt care. The drums were their orders. It picked up speed and they accelerated. Then a double-beatthey stepped back, slashing, letting the Humans charge forwards into a feint and more slaughter.

Dead gods.

Kevin didnt hear himself say it. He just knew the song from the darkness. It played for nearly three minutes. Three minutes was all it took. The Trolls slowed as the beat lapsed into a very slow rhythm, breathing hard, grunting. But the Humans were in full flight.

As for the Goblins and Ogres? They set themselves, warily, in the corner theyd chosen, staring at the Trolls. For the fighting wasnt done yet.

Thum. Thum. Thum.

An ominous sound. The seventeen Trolls turned back. Maybe they werent as big as Somos people, but Kevin swore he saw a cut on one of their arms closing as he watched. The Goblins and Ogres eyed them, and Kevin realized the thunderous drums could debilitate them as much as they had the Humans.

Thumthumthum

It was slowing. Each beat growing longer, until it stopped. And the silence was more ominous than the music, now. The Trolls waited. Not for the Goblins to say anything, but for the sound.

When it played, everyone died.

Poisonbite was glaring at the biggest Troll, daggers out. Atter and Pillowhead were pointing to a flanking position, glancing warily into the depths for reinforcements. Taganchiel, muttering spells. Everyone was tensed, and Somo was readying the maul, prepared to take down at least one of her foes. Death or victory! The species, all humanoid cousins, glared at each other.

Except for the actual Human, Kevin. He had actually relaxed.

Drums in the darkness. Mysterious inhabitants of the underworld. He had been prepared for horrors.

All he saw were Trolls. And the music was not the impartial war drums of some abyssal creature. Someone had played that. Someone had a sense of rhythm and music.

In short, Kevins opinion was that someone had good taste. Someone could play music, and if that was soKevin had a Kevin-solution.

Taganchiel!

The [Shaman] started as Kevin grabbed his arm. He looked at the Human, who was holding a glowing object and completely ruining everyones night-vision.

Unless of course, one had a damn good reason to do so, and an ego to match. So, amazingly, Cognita was informed she would share passege and that the Four Winds was making one stop.

I am terribly sorry, Miss, erCognita of Wistram.

The sweating [Captain] saw the Truestone Golems head turn. She was reading a book and sitting while watching the waves go by. Cognita looked at Bressa.

Captain Bressa. You are confused as to my address. When you address a woman of uncertain rank, what title would you use?

I would say Miss, uh, if I didnt

Then I am Miss Cognita.

Captain Bressa cast a look at the other [Sailors] of the Four Winds. It was a Garuda-led ship in many regards; she was the child of a Garuda-Human match, but the [Sailors] often had wings. You wanted to harness the power of the Four Winds, the famed Courier-Ship.

Absolutely, Miss Cognita. I am terribly sorry, and it will not happen again. As I was saying, I am so sorry, but we cannot avoid this contract. The other passengers booked our shipthey have travelled nearly nonstop to get to a port and one of the passengers is a famed individual.

I see. I will accept this.

Cognita sat back. She kept reading. That had been, oh, two days ago. She wasnt in that much of a hurry to get to Illivere. The outdoor chair shed been reading in, and indeed, the book, were her company. She didnt read fast; she watched the ocean. Just watched the ocean, birds, plants, activity on the decks, so it took her two full days to close the book, having read it.

She hadnt actually moved from her seat for two days straight. A fact that disconcerted the [Sailors] who had to eat, stretch, and sleep. But Cognita was enjoying herself.

She did not look forward to visitors, however. The Four Winds was hired for her, and she would rather not have passengers who stared and asked questions or treated her likea thing. She wondered how disreputable it would be to toss someone into the sea.

However, it seemed it had to be done. Captain Bressa offered Cognita a partial refund, but the Truestone Golem didnt want a refund. She just wanted no passengers. She watched, face stony, as they pulled into a dock. She wasnt sure which continent it was at first. It was not Zeres, and a far smaller port than the ones she knew. And Cognita remembered every port shed been to, on every continent of the world.

I am told one of the guests has met you before, Miss Cognita. Perhaps that is some comfort?

The Truestone Golems head slowly turned.

I do not enjoy the company of many people who claim to know me, Captain Bressa. We will see how I react.

If the [Captain] had been nervous beforeshe hoped this would not ruin the reputation of her ship. She already had Khelts wrath to worry aboutshe should never have taken that job for the Terandrian crusade! She was just glad they wanted to land on Chandrars south, not anywhere near the Revenant-class undead tearing up the north. She was going to sail wide of the northern coast until that was over.

However, you couldnt refuse some passengers and just refund them so easily. Were they Cognita of Wistram? No, but one was close. The other?

Looks like lots of cargo, Captain! Dead gods, look at that. A menagerie of stuff to load and an entire entourage.

Bressa cursed as Cognitas eyes flashed. She lowered the gangplank and strode down to meet her guestsand advise them they might have to confine themselves to their quarters. All things considered, it went well.

They only drew their blades in outrage once, but their leader was more understanding when he heard the name Cognita. They ponced up the deck, and yes, Bressa felt it was an appropriate verb to describe them. Then again, it was a royal entourage of sorts and her guest was a bit famous world-wide.

As for the other one, when he heard Cognitas name, he came up the gangplank, stopping their leader from introducing himself despite the risk, to Cognita.

Allow me first, [Prince]. She is notamicable at all times. Cognita of Wistram? Might you remember me?

A figure walked up the deck, in travelling boots, and a colorful cloak fluttering behind. In one hand he carried an artifact of such power that Cognita blinked. She recognized it, and focused on his face. Her look of annoyance changed to one of almost pleasure.

You are Barelle the Bard.

One of the worlds famous [Bards] swept her a bow. The magical harp he carried, with strings each of unique power, was held in one hand. Cognita actually smiled at him, then regarded his companion.

I know you as well. Wistram had cause to feature you.

Lady Truestone. I humbly greet you in the name of Nerrhavias Fallen. My kingdom may be mighty, but it is nothing compared to your beauty.

The [Prince] bowed with a flourish. Cognita gave him a level look, but passed him from the sea-dunk test. Prince Zenol of Nerrhavias Fallen had travelled hard to meet the Four Winds of Teral from inland, and it showed a bit, despite his entourage of servant-bodyguards luggage and their larger group.

Barelle the Bard glanced at Zenol as the [Prince] went to oversee the loading of cargo. They wanted to be out of port in twenty minutes or less.

I believe the last time we met was six years ago, Miss Cognita.

Yes. You interviewed me for your latest song. Is it finished?

Barelle looked wistful. He plucked at a chord on his harp. For a moment, the harbor paused, as a single chord stilled the waters, the rocking boat, and made all go quiet.

Such was the power of the great [Bard]. A man Cognita could respect in that sense.

Almost. I have sung it many times, but my tales are more popular. It is one thing for me to sing it, with the Skills and power allotted to me. Another to write something that even a Level 5 [Bard] can recite and bring a room to silence.

That is true. That you know it is well. I am not displeased to meet you, Barelle. I believe your company is more welcome. As for the [Prince]equanimous. Are you travelling in his company?

She had not missed how familiar the two were. Barelle nodded. He eyed the [Prince] as Zenol strode up the decks. He looked fabulously stunning in his rich clothes, without an adventurers armor, but Cognita saw his sword was the most powerful artifact he held, and his defensive armaments. He was a match for any one of the Silver Swords at least, beyond them in terms of gear.

He was also an adventurer by the simplest of reckonings; she saw how he had replaced limbs with less-fitted ones. He had taken wounds and it did not show to non-experts, but it did to her.

He participated in the Village of the Deads raid, Cognita. I saw fit to interview him and many of the others. Yet it is Prince Zenol I follow now, because he returns to Chandrar to chase the lead of the missing team.

The Horns of Hammerad.

Memory stirred. Cognita saw Barelles eyes light up; he could spot a connection.

You know them?

I am familiar with two of their number. They wereare[Mages] of Wistram. They live.

Barelle nodded.

So it seems. Prince Zenol considers it a debt unpaid, so we are bound for Nerrhavias Fallen.

Interesting. Cognita appraised the [Prince] again. He strode up the gangplank, and Bressa called for the ship to depart. Fast as could be, the Four Winds turned for its next destination.

I see. Why do you join him? Barelle the Bard was content to his station. A great song for the ages, but no more adventures. That is what you told me the last time we met. Now, you are headed towards a continent rife with war, and towards Nerrhavias Fallen, at the side of a [Prince] who may endanger you. Why?

Barelle gave her a shamefaced smile. His hair had grey in it. It had not the first time he met her, before he earned the first string on that harp. How soon it changed. Yet she was glad to see something had returned from his youth.

I confess, my ambition died out. I was complacent, Cognita. Perhaps thats why my songs stalled and I just made a comfortable living. But of late, I have hadinteresting days. I was there when the first plays struck Invrisil. I met unique people, and had the chance to perform at an event whichwell, I cannot say. I found myself asking what the stories behind each were, and I did not know.

You were drawn to the stories. That is Barelle the Bard, the Meddling Storyteller of tales.

The [Bard] who found himself in grand tales and sometimes took up arms that they should end the right way. He looked old and young. He smiled, shamefaced.

I confess, it was not just the desire to know that made me come out of my semi-retirement, Cognita. One of the stories I had hoped to investigateended. Too abruptly. I have seen it many times, as you have. Or maybe it is not ended, but I cannot imagine how it will return. The Horns are part of it.

Really.

Yes. I met with adventurers from the Village of the Dead raid. They are still fighting over who will gain the Helm of Fire, but the Horns of Hammerad saw what lay in the center of that place. Isnt that a story worthy of Barelle the Bard? Not to mention, the King of Destruction has awoken! He will be more than the lifeless man on the throne. I wish to see it. Soyes. I am going to Chandrar.

The [Bard] stood on the decks, breathing in the salt air as Cognita felt the ship move. She envied the life in his eyes, rekindled by adventure. He looked at her, and took her in fully.

There is a story behind Cognita of Wistram leaving her home. May I ask it?

The Truestone Golem considered him for a long time. Stories. True and untrue, flawed, the stories she told herself about Zelkyr, the ones told by history and the present.

Perhaps. Yes, perhaps it was well we met after all, Barelle the Bard. Let us talk. As for the [Prince]?

She glanced over, to where he was hovering, eyes alight with interest. Cognita glanced at Barelle.

Does he matter? Or is he just a smaller player in your story?

Barelle glanced at Zenol, who hadnt heard them, only saw them looking his way. He bowed again, and Barelle smiled.

Everyone has a story, Cognita of Wistram. Perhaps you will think more kindly of him if I tell you his?

She considered it.

I will listen.

Thus, Barelle the Bard stood, setting his foot on the lip of a railing, and lifted his harp. The deck went silent and even Bressa turned to listen as Barelle the Bard gave a performance. He strummed one chord that sang like the sea, as blue as the sky. His double-harp had a mortal set of chords, and the magical strings on the other side.

Was it music or chant? Cognita listened. It was not rehearsed, but it was free-form, told by Barelle to the ringing notes. He touched the magical chords only rarely; they had power, but it was power that only had its magic because it was spent more rarely than the mortal chords.

There is a story behind Prince Zenol of Nerrhavias Fallen. [Prince of Sands]. Prince of Isphel. One of many of Nerrhavias royal lines that stem from the throne. Long ago, the [Prince] left for an adventurers life. For war, for death, for untimely end and strife. He did so not just for glory or gold, but to fulfill fate. His fathers story, which shapes him. A tale of old.

Prince Zenol watched Barelle the Bard. With a kind of eagerness and pain mixed. Cognita looked at him as Barelle told the story of the former Prince of Isphel. Now there was a man who might have risen higher. Who had risen higher.

A [Prince] who had carried his line into fame. A lion among Nerrhavias sheep.

Who died when his son was but a boy and left their house weakened irrevocably. And a legacy that would never be matched. Barelle touched a string like blood and it echoed across the sea as the Four Winds raced onwards. Past. Present. Future. Zenol listened. He whispered.

[Like a Lion, He Leapt].

With his pride, he died alone. He left only his sword. His last Skill. And the burden of legacy on Prince Zenol Isphel. The lion who leaps. He did not die at the Village of the Dead. For he was taught, by Antinium no less, that the lion never fights alone.

Barelle finished the high chant. There was a moment of silence as the last magic finished humming in the air, then applause. Zenol bowed slightly as people looked at him. He had a [Prince]s air; many couldnt have borne an entire story about them, but Zenol kept his head high.

An [Innkeeper] would have fled. But each to their own and Barellehis eyes lingered on Zenol as he addressed Cognita, more quietly.

Where will fate take him next? For the bonds of adventurers he returns to his kingdom. I do not know where the story ends, but I shall watch and see whether son steps out of the shadow of father.

You are fascinated by such things.

It is worth living dangerously to find out how each story ends. And they should end right. Gloriously, tragicallybut right. So they call me the Meddling Storyteller.

Barelle chuckled self-consciously. Cognita nodded. She took some things from the story. Little sympathy for Zenol. An appreciation of who she was. But perhapsshe looked at Barelle.

I have never known much music. My master never cared for it to the degree of others.

Oh? That is interesting. Did he have no desire for it?

He simply never truly cared for music as made by mortal hands. And Golems play music poorly. They do not create. Perhaps, thoughyou will show me how to play a harp before we land. If one can be made for my hands.

Cognita saw her fingers change shape. Barelles eyebrows rose and his eyes lit up with curiosity.

Ah. There is a tale here. I am glad I travelled. To Chandrar, then, Cognita. Adventurers await. If only I could be everywhere and live longer. But such beings do not exist. Even Djinni are limited.

He smiled. Cognita almost did too.

There is a word for that, Barelle.

Really? Forgive an old [Bard], but I have never known it.

The Truestone Golems eyes glittered.

I would speak it. If you could survive it. There are words that Golems know that even [Bards] lack. Someday, Barelle. When you are a truly great [Bard], seek me out. I hope you will accomplish it before the end of your life.

The mans eyebrows rose. He looked at Cognita. She smiled as she set the flames of his curiosity higher.

It might be an interesting trip after all.

Music rang through the tunnels of the Antinium just once. It was quashed in a moment. The frightened little Worker hid in a corner and Anand had to carry him away with Goat and the others.

He had never heard the Armored Queen, who seemed nicest of all the Queens, even the Free Queen, scream like that. But the terrified little Worker, Pie Piper, had begun to play music and she had heard it and

It distressed him so much he had to talk to Klbkch during their daily debriefing. That was what Klbkch referred to it as. Anand scurried up to the Antinium, reconnecting nerves and muscle. It was a long, painful process, being rebuilt.

However, Anand had to admit that Klbkch looked more dangerous. He was able to talk, and often discussed the building of ships, which was progressing now that they had a guide, albeit a terrified one.

But that was ongoing and neither here nor there. It was over there, in the underground lake. Today was about music. Klbkch had, of course, heard of the incident.

Music will be forbidden in the Hives.

But why, Revalantor Klbkch? Bird sings to the Free Queen.

He does?

Anand hesitated.

No?

Klbkch stared at him. Anand amended his answer.

Sometimes. Is it dangerous, in some way, Revalantor Klbkch?

It is unpleasant.

To Antinium?

To the Queens. The Free Queens decision is not that of the Armored Queen. Did shereact beyond screaming?

Anand nodded.

She was very upset. She told us that we will never make music in her presence again. She seemedpained.

For a long time, Klbkch was still, and the custom-Antinium delicately maneuvering gels to aid the developing body worked in silence.

Yes. She would be. It is not a physical phenomenon, but a mental one that has troubled Antinium since our arrival on Izril, Strategist Anand. I inform you that you may not offend the Queens again and hinder their process. It is a commonality amongst other species as well. Memory causes pain.

He expected Anand to grapple with the problem, but the Worker just nodded.

Yes. It does. It hurts when I think of Erin.

Klbkch was silent. His great wisdom learned from many years had been already internalized.

He expected Anand to shuffle off, but the Strategist hesitated.

Revalantor Klbkchmay I talk to you about being sad? I am sad. I still think of Erin. So are the others.

Klbkch evaluated his ability to move, and also his desire to talk to Anand about sadness and Erin being dead. He clacked his mandibles.

Speak to Wrymvr instead. You informed me he was an inspirational leader in many ways.

Anand hesitated. Yet he did not scurry off to find Wrymvr, who apparently could be more of a leader than Klbkch.

I would, but Wrymvr is not suitable for this conversation, Revalantor Klbkch.

Why not?

He does not care about us.

This time Klbkch actually moved his head slightly. He glanced at Anand.

Wrymvr is constantly appraising your actions, Anand. He is pleased about your progress andkinderthan I am.

Anand nodded amiably. He poked his fingers together, then refuted Klbkch.

Yes, Revalantor Klbkch, but I have misphrased my communications. He can be caring, but he does not care about us. My perception is that Centenium Wrymvr is interested in our worth. Not if we live or die.

Klbkch looked at Anand. Something likeapprobation stirred in him. Because Anand was correct. That was probably what Xrn described. Anand went on.

Wrymvr is very helpful to me. He tries to cheer me up when I am sad. He delivered the ship to me. He does what is helpful. However, I have seen the Twisted Antiniums Hive. Wrymvr does not care about our lives. Only our function. I believe this is so, Klbkch.

Ah. So that was why she called him insane. That was the difference between Wrymvr and Xrn. Klbkch considered Anands statement. If he was going to be depressed for another week, Wrymvr was going to be upset. So Klbkch tried to say the most comforting thing he could imagine.

Do not be disheartened, Anand. Wrymvr may see you as a means to an end, but he is not biased.

How so?

Klbkch raised his mandibles in a fake smile.

If he believed the benefits were worth the cost he would sacrifice me or Xrn, just like any of the Antinium and expect us to do the same. Wrymvr is committed to success.

For some reason, Anand did not look particularly inspired by this information. His mandibles drooped.

Now I am very sad, Revalantor Klbkch.

The Antinium stared at Anand. This was so difficult. He tried a different tack.

I have an interesting factoid, Anand. About Wrymvr as it pertains to this mornings incident.

The [Strategist] latched onto this and Klbkch saw him stop moping.

What is this, Revalantor Klbkch?

It is not permissible to ask for a demonstration within the Queens hearing. However, I can inform you that Wrymvr is, himself, capable of singing.

What.

Anand twitched his mandibles. Klbkch tried to nod, but his muscles werent there yet.

He is capable of singing with multiple mouths. Quite adeptly.

Rather than cheer Anand up, Klbkch got a suspicious look. Anand doubted him! Klbkch had no other recourse.

Wrymvr. Wrymvr.

Klbkchhezeim.

The two communicated, True Antinium to True Antinium. In truth, Wrymvr was one of the few that Klbkch could talk to like this and cared to.

Wrymvr, I must ask you to sing to Anand to alleviate his fears that you do not care for his life on a personal level. Also, because he is growing depressed.

No.

Klbkch paused.

Why not? As I recall, you quite enjoy singing.

I will not sing again. Not until a sign our mission will succeed appears in fullness.

There was something like Adamantium in that promise. Klbkch understood it full well. Exasperated, he kept Wrymvr in the link as he addressed Anand.

I assure you, Wrymvr can sing. He has declined to, but he is capable of music.

Yes, Revalantor Klbkch.

Why are you talking about singing?

I do not know. Anand has another issue he is bringing up. Indulging him boosts productivity.

You lead them poorly.

He perceives you dont care about his fate. I do not care to converse with you given your lack of helpfulness.

Klbkch snapped back mentally, coloring his mental tone with frustration. Wrymvrs response was simple when it came back.

Yet Anand comes to you. Therefore, he senses you do care, or can. This I agree with. That you do not, or do not try, is your failing. He is not of my Hive.

The Slayers mandibles clicked a few times. In the end, he decided to talk to Anand since it was better than Wrymvr.

Is it doubtful that Wrymvr is capable of song, Anand? Xrn is. We are able to perform every function you can. And more.

So Centenium sang?

Anand peered at Klbkch, sitting on a stool, interested again. The Slayer tried to nod again and gave up.

This is so. Are you happy again?

Anand edged forwards on the edge of his seat.

M-maybe. If you answer more questions. Were the Centenium like us? No one will tell me much, even the Grand Queen.

For a moment, Klbkch was dumbfounded. Were they like?

He couldnt help it. A fluttering sound, like an insect, emerged from his mouth. Somewhere else in the Hivelands, Wrymvr copied the sound. Anand was terrified. Then he realized.

They were laughing.

Like you. You are a copy of Galuc. You are nothing close t

Klbkch responded to Anand, and Wryvmrs censor stopped him. He amended his statement.

The Centenium had different personalities. Soyes, Anand. They were like you. Each one was different. Each one glorious. Complete in their function, beyond any other Antinium.

More or less. Some were more capable in all regards.

This time Wrymvrs comment left Klbkch speechless. He was silentthen gave Wrymvr a mental buffet so hefty it closed their connection. That was not an insult to Klbkch. That wassimply wrong.

Anand was still there, waiting for Klbkchs next words. And because of what Wrymvr had intimated in thought, worse than word, Klbkch went on.

Each one had great talents, Anand. Each one wasunique. Designed to be forerunners, exemplars of what they did. Some overlapped in talents. Some were truly unique. Yes, some sang. Of all of them, the hundred, there were some who did sing. Our Queen sang. So many could. Songoh yes. We could sing. Not as you know it.

It pained him to speak, so he stopped. Anand listened, then nodded, his eyes filled with understanding at last. They had sung.

So that is why the Armored Queen was sad.

Sad? YesI suppose.

Did they make music? Or was it just singing that is not singing as I understood it?

Klbkchs head lowered. His mandibles drooped. For a long time, he hung there. Then he spoke.

Only one ever learned an instrument that was not part of their body. If that is the difference, yes. One made music. The rest of usno. To your question, there was one Antinium who ever fulfilled your criteria.

Anand listened to the weary Slayer. To stories of old. How alike they were, how apparently different. Centenium. Of every form? Not all the same? What was Antinium, truly? He yearned to know.

Is his statue among the Armored Queens?

Perhaps.

What is his name? I could look.

Klbkch hesitated.

His name was

Czautha.

The Death of Chains turned. Her body, inside of the Demons domain, was condensed. Still, she was reminiscent of a cloud of magic and color that had decided to take humanoid form. Two glowing eyes narrowed. For she was still wrathful.

The Death of Magic returned the look. Silvenia, Islandbreaker, The Curse of Elves, the Traitor ofwell, one of Terandrias traitors, did not back down.

She was a half-Elf. But Czautha thought that she came closest to the heritage of her kind. If Elves were pure magic, Silvenia was among the closest of her kind to that idea. Certainly, the closest living.

I do not wish to speak with you, Silvenia. Begone.

This was Czauthas domain, and so even atmosphere as other species understood it was different. Still, Silvenia intruded.

Ah, but I wish to speak to you, Czautha. Little whispers have reached my ears since our raid on Chandrar.

Our raid on Roshal.

That was the difference. Little words, which heralded deep rifts. They had not cropped up as the Deathless were returned from their mortal wounds. Then, they had been grateful to live, too busy with the great news.

Flora.

Time had passed since then, and Czautha, the Djinni, Death of Chains, Chainbreaker, was reminded of how Silvenia was. She who loved wars, compared to the Djinni who would liberate her people, all slaves, if she could.

The Deathless looked at each other, and Czautha forced the hostility down. Now was not the time to fight. Silvenia might hold back, but she was always hungry for battle.

Why have you come here, Silvenia?

Two reasons. The first is minor. We have time for the second. Yet the first bothers me. I interviewed the ones we brought to Rhir. One of them is a cousin of yours.

So?

His name is Azam. Or was. He is picking a new one, I know how you are with names, but since he has no new onehe told me something interesting, Czautha.

The Death of Chains knew what was coming. She sighed.

Yes. Which was?

In your raid, you came across a spellbook owned by a Gold-rank adventurer. The one who was on the scrying orbs everyone likes to watch?

Silvenia wasnt as interested in that. She peered at Czautha.

He had a treasure. From the Putrid One. A spellbook. So powerful you could see it. You let him have it.

And?

Silvenia narrowed her eyes as she floated towards Czautha. She was displeased. As if it didnt matter to mention assassinating a [Knight] mid-transit and trying to kill a child and a girl in chains.

You said I had many spellbooks like that one. Did you appraise it? Did you check which spells it contained? Who wrote it?

I do not know. It was powerful, but I did not have time to investigate it. Every second mattered.

Silvenia steepled her hands and sat, floating around Czautha.

Indeed. Indeed. So you did not investigate, but you deemed this spellbook had nothing of value to me. Why?

She was piqued. Former [Archmage] or not, Czautha rolled her shoulders and eyes. Silvenias own damaged features glared at her from their healing/stasis spells. Now here was someone who could bring back someone on the verge of death by magic alone. Flora had helped cure her, and thus she had expedited the return of the others, able to divide her magic rather than barely keep herself from dying.

The Djinni replied in a level tone, dismissing the memories of decades of pain, fighting for life.

You do not need more tomes, Silvenia. I left it with a child of death who could take up arms. Who needed a weapon where he stood.

What remained of Silvenias lips pursed. She was displeased. She glared at Czautha.

There was the adventurer as well. A [Necromancer] of some talent. You should have taken him too. Level 40 would be acceptable as a lieutenant. Especially one who can create undead hordes. He was known enough. If we convinced him to speak and overwrote Wistrams broadcast

Czautha interrupted Silvenia.

Death of Magic. Do not lecture me about possibilities and choices. I am still displeased with you.

The air turned ominous. The magic of the two beings collided, auras unto themselves such that even their distaste for one another created a magical storm that might have killed lesser spellcasters where they stood. Eventually, Silvenia floated back.

Very well. I shall remember this, Czautha. Now is not the time for strife, however. I had two pieces of news. You are needed.

I am resting. Unless the Demon King summons me, or

Czautha was in no mood to be tugged around by Silvenia, but the half-Elfs next words made her move. The Death of Magic turned and looked more serious than before.

Czauthaqshe. One of them is coming.

The Djinnis eyes opened wide. Without a word, she looked at the Death of Magic. Then she followed, swiftly.

The Demon Kingdom was not as the Blighted Kingdom painted it. A horrific land of nightmares? It had nightmares. It had scars from war, like the Blighted Kingdom.

Yet this was home to a people apart. It was protected by the Deathless, beings of unsurpassed strength. It was not unpleasant to live in.

This was not the time to admire the Demons lands, however. Silvenia flew from Czauthas domain. She blinked out of the air and teleported. Czautha just flew, and called out.

The Death of Wings took to the air. Harpies screamed around her as the most grievously wounded of the surviving Deathless flew. Czautha called out in worry, but this moment warranted even that.

They assembled. Not just Silvenia. Not just Czautha, or the Death of Wings. The might of Demons came together, lesser though they might be.

Bazeth, one of the Demons young [Generals], strode into place with every high-level Demon. Flora of Texas followed. Her nerves were humming.

Not just because Silvenia was there. Because all three Deathless were there, and she had only seen them like this twice. When wounded, and when the Demon King summoned them to give his words.

Now, they gathered a third time. Why?

Because they might be needed. Because their guests warranted it. Yet who would be guests to Demons? Only a few factions treated with them. And who warranted this level ofwhat? Respect?

Wariness?

They are coming. Your Majesty.

Czautha addressed the throne. A faint voice replied. Floras eyes flicked leftand the Demons stirred. Bazeth had a tight hold of his weapon. Flora looked at him.

Is it them?

Yes.

A terse answer. She had not seen him tense. Few came to the Demon Kings court without some measure of hardship, but she had never feared guests before. Not Drath. Not Dullahans or Drowned Folk or the few others.

They were not strong allies of the Demons. There was only one species in the entire world who could convene the Deathless by their very presence. One race which was known across the world.

The Black Tide of Izril. The monstrous species that came from Rhir. Yet oh, how they knew the wrong ones.

For nowSilvenia called out, and it might be warning or challenge. The ranks of Demon officers stirred. Flora felt the air grow tight.

You did not know them. Not the remnant that made it to distant shores. Here came the ones who remained.

The Antinium of Rhir.

What did she expect? Thunder and lighting? Portents? Omens? A bestial roar? Flora had never seen any of them, but she had heard Demons talk about the Antinium like the Blighted Kingdom talked about Demons.

With awe, fear, distastelike stories. Now, something split the air as the doors were dragged open. Flora expected to hear the voices of the populace, some kind of murmuring, for the Demon King did not hold with silence. Silvenia would make a comment, or

What she heard was music. The last thing she expected. Music, which by every note and second absorbed and reduced every other sound in the universe to stillness.

It sounded like voices. It sounded like alien reeds, singing. It sounded like what it wasmusic of insects, come to life. Flora had never heard a song like this.

It was a sign and welcome. She realized she could not even hear all the notes; they strayed into areas above and below her hearing. It should have made the sound discordant, but the musician played on multiple frequencies.

On an instrument he had made. Although it seemed not made, but grown, from the same arms and armor they carried. The same material as their bodies. Not the common chitin of insects, but something developed, refined until it became a kind of material analogous to that of steel or other qualities.

The last of it outside of Rhir was embodied in unbreakable swords carried by Klbkch the Slayer. The body of Xrn, the Small Queen. They had fragments.

These Antinium were made entirely of it. Flora saw the instrument was made of a string she could not name. It looked like a spiral staircase, ascending. Yet there were threads within the complex creation.

No normal fingers could hope to pluck the fine threads, of so many kinds, so thinly dispersed together that it seemed impossible to pick one out from the other, let alone distinguish the difference in pitch.

Yet this Antiniums fingers were thin enough to slip between the gaps, and so numerous they played the welcome, orwas it warning?with ease. Vertical strings, horizontal, diagonal, ranging into pitches Flora had never dreamed of.

So came their representative. What Flora thought, her only conscious thought was

How beautiful. Here was an alien. But an alien playing music. Not a bug. An insect of a civilization apart.

How beautiful. Andhow weary. Even the music conveyed that. The Antinium stopped, surveying the Demons, without fear. Flora saw they were seven in total.

Their leader and sixrepresentatives. Bodyguards? She heard Bazeths voice at last, as if he had held his breath for minutes.

Czkelcill Mirrex. The Voice of the Antinium.

Six came with him. Not Centeniumor so she didnt think. True Antinium nevertheless.

These were the ones the lesser Demons watched, for if it came to battle, it would be Deathless versus the Centenium. They would have to stop at least one of the others.

Bazeths hand was so tight on his weaponby contrast, Flora just backed away. She craned her head up at one; they were all different sizes.

All different forms, engineered for war. She was conscious of the weight on her hip. Yet she didnt even move her hand towards the revolver at her side. Even if she had it in hand, would it do any good?

The Demon King rose, slowly, on his throne. Czkelcill halted before him, as the Demons watched.

The Voice of the Antinium did not bow. The Demon King spoke, softly, but audibly in the silence now pervading the room.

We greet the Antinium of Rhir. Our allies.

The Antinium did not gainsay the statement. Nor did they move. At last, Czkelcill spoke.

You are not the Demon King of when last we met.

The figure on the throne smiled bleakly.

My mother is dead. The Demons have their king. Will you speak with me?

Yes.

The Antinium ducked his head. His neck was long. His eyesthere was a glow to them, which never faded. Two of the Antinium stirred, were still.

They were speaking. Communicating, in flashes so fast that Flora could not even tell what was happening. Yet only Czkelcill spoke.

We come to confer. To ask questions.

Then ask. Do the Antinium come to tell us they will leave Rhir a second time? Or do you wish to know about your kin on Izril?

It was Silvenia who asked, gliding forwards to set herself in front of the throne. Next to her, Czautha, the Djinni mighty. The Death of Wings, still bleeding ichor, set herself on the other side. Three Deathless.

They spoke to Czkelcill. The Centenium looked at them as the Antinium stirred. Silvenia had provoked them, and the Demons were uneasy. However, the Centenium was unmoved.

Do they still speak of Klbkchhezeim, Xrniavxxel, Wrymvr?

They do. Though they say Xrn was wounded of late. Not how. Not why. It is a rumor plucked from Wistrams lips.

Czautha answered next. If she hoped for a response, again, the Antiniums strange bard made no response.

Yet she lives.

We would tell you if she dies.

Very well.

An ocean of emotions Flora couldnt see, if the opening wings of the great shelled back on one Antinium were a clue. Scythe blades on another, sharpening against each other. However, it was clear the Antinium were not here to ask about that.

What news of the world?

The Deathless conferred. It was not a question that surprised them. At last, the Death of Wings croaked, though it pained her.

To your kind? Little. The King of Destruction, he wakes and makes great war. We return for battle. Nothing else of note.

She glanced left once. But did not look at Flora. They were lying to the Antinium. Or withholding truth.

And their statement! Two thingsto tell the Antinium. The only things that could even possibly concern them. The return of Deathless and the King of Destructions waking. Not Ailendamus. Not the Four Great Companies. Nothing.

Czkelcill looked at the huge, winged features of the Death of Wings, but no hint of emotion escaped her eyes. Not so for any of the Deathless. Even soslowly, that tall Centeniums head swept around. His fingers plucked at the strange chords.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then he looked straight at Flora. The Demons stirred. More than a few blades shifted. Yet all Czkelcill did was shake his head.

It is not time for war.

The Antinium accompanying him settled down. The Demons breathed again. The glowing gaze turned away from Flora, and she would have fallen but for Bazeth supporting her.

We ask. Perhaps you omit. Now, we ask again. Do not lie. Tell me what changed during the longest day of the year.

The Deathless looked at each other. The Demon King moved on his throne, and Floras head snapped up.

The Summer Solstice? Had they too received children from another world? Silvenias eyes flickered, but she dared not confer.

A great magical event. I sensed it. A weft in space and time, exploited by magic of a scale so great, I cannot explain how it was brought into motion. Yet it was done, by the Blighted Kingdom no less. And it has tornsomething.

Yes. It has.

A whisper. Flora jerked. That did not come from Czkelcill. The Centenium just nodded.

What was done, exactly?

We do not know. Something the Blighted Kingdom wrought.

Silvenia was angry. She could guess. Opened a gateway. Yet her eyes kept flickering across the Antinium. The Demons were wary.

However, it seemed as though they were speaking cross-purposes. Czkelcills antennae moved, but one of the Antinium opened huge maws on its armored body and spoke. Not with the cavernous voice that Flora expected but with a deep, feminine voice.

As if it was but a relay for some other intelligence peering out. Nothat was exactly what it was.

You are magic. Does it lie in your power to stop this event from occurring again?

She addressed Silvenia. Again, the Death of Magic hesitated, and this time Flora, who knew enough of Silvenia from their talks together, realized the half-Elf wasnt confident.

Silvenia did not like admitting there was anything she could not do. So she was uncomfortable as she replied.

I have stratagems in place. It may be impossible to stop, however.

Again, the Antinium conferred. This time with considerable agitation, although the only sign was the flicking of antennae.

Czkelcill replied.

Thencan you sense if another attempt is made?

Oh yes. I can do that.

Silvenia nodded, eyes glinting. Czauthas eyes never moved, but a part of her body changed color and Bazeth blinked. She was signalling the others. Flora knew the Djinni well enough to realize they had complex signs of their own.

What did the Antinium want? It was clear they never came above, and the few times they had were heralded by terrible conflict. Now, though, Czkelcill nodded. A decision had been made, perhaps before they had even come. This was simply notification, politely, as the Antinium did it.

Dispensation will be made. If it occurs again, inform us. We will come to halt it.

What? For a second, Flora didnt get the implications. Yet the Demons officers did. They looked at each other.

Were the Antinium declaring that they were willing to fight the Blighted Kingdom if the ritual occurred again? And their wording?

We will come to halt it. No question. The Deathless looked to the throne, but then Czautha spoke for the Demons.

If your goal is preventing the ritual from occuring again, great Antinium, will you lend your aid to help us crush the Blighted Kingdom?

Czkelcill took a long moment to speak, and Flora saw the argument, invisible, in the air. However, when the Voice of the Antinium spoke, it was firm denial.

No more time can be spared. No more Antinium. We part. Allies.

With that, he turned and began walking back the way hed come. As if there was no more that could be said. It was so abrupt the Demons were caught off-guard with dismay. Czautha opened and closed her mouth, clearly searching for words to use. A [Diplomat] spoke in the Demon Kings ear, but was patently unsure what would work on such foreign guests. Skills? Flora wondered if they dared to try it.

Into the uncertainty, as Czkelcill and the six Antinium were nearing the door, the only one of them who would have dared to speakdid.

Silvenia. The Death of Magic floated higher, and called out in a sing-song, teasing voice.

Just so I know, Antinium. What if we were to tell you the ritual is happeningand make a little mistake?

The Centenium halted in his tracks. Slowly, he turned, as Bazeths face drained of color. The Demons, some horned, other changed by the Blight, suddenly tensed once more. The other two Deathless looked at their insane companion. But it was said.

Slowly, Czkelcill extended one arm. The thin finger changed. To something approaching fingers, which moved with such delicate grace into a single gesture like that of Humans and Demons and species of this and Floras world.

He pointed down at the tiles of the Demon Kings court. Just down at the ground. What if the Demons made a little mistake? Told a little lie?

This ends.

Silvenias smile opened wider, wider, like the gates of hell. Until something happened. The Voice of the Antinium plucked at his strings. He played eight notes. Noexponentially many times that. A complex melody.

Abruptly, Silvenias feet dropped out of the air. She landed hard, and the bindings of magic on her wounds flickered. The Demons exclaimed. Bazeth stared at his enchanted glaive. The steel looked like

Steel.

The Voice of the Antinium turned magic back on after a second. Now, it was dead silence.

And Silvenia was no longer smiling. Again the Centenium turned, but one of the Antinium did not.

A different one, tall, like a mantis but only in the scything talons. It stalked forward two steps and Czautha drew her great relic. The Antinium was so fast. It left behind an afterimage or something, so that only when it moved

But it did not spring forwards. Did not slash or deliver a second war to Demons and Antinium. Rather, it lowered itself. Spoke. A different voice, also female, but more grating. Authoritative, like Bazeth on a battlefield.

Decisions have been made.

The Deathless looked at the Antinium. The other five swung back, and Czkelcill looked at the lone warrior. Waiting.

The True Antinium of Rhirs head rose. Foreign intelligence stared up towards the Demon Kings throne. Itsheaddressed them.

No chances can be taken. It dies. So speaks War Queen Heclaivk. This War Hive will eradicate. Claim Blighted Kingdom. Fortify. Reprisals acceptable now; not before. No chances.

Excuse me?

Silvenia herself couldnt believe it. The Demon King rose on his throne.

Do you mean?

One Hive will eliminate threats. Coordinate assault. Cost acceptable to prevent repeat.

The Voice of the Antinium turned. Not with surprise, but with finality.

So decided.

Flora couldnt believe her ears. The Demons were stunned. Stunnedand worried. Flora saw them looking at each other. If the Antinium took out their great foe, that was one thing. Butfortify? What if the Antinium decidedif one Hive could destroy the Blighted Kingdom, then

Demons were speaking up now, unable to keep silent. Demanding questions of the War Queen Heclaivk, who was waiting for a response from the throne or Deathless. Into this moment, as chaos swirled, the Antinium were leaving. All but this lone warrior, herald of countless more.

Czkelcill passed by Flora, and no one dared to stop him, or the other five. His gaze turned and fixed her with a look again, but he seemed content to leave. A Hive went to war, for better or worse. So

The True Antiniums footsteps slowed. The other Antinium didnt notice. They proceeded onwards, and comically halted after two dozen strides towards the door. Bazeth backed away, shielding her with one arm; he had orders to protect Flora with his life.

Slowly, the Centeniums head turned. Flora saw that bright gaze turn. Suddenlya discordant note filled the air.

The perfect strings on the instrument, snapped. Thousands of them, all at once. This time even the Deathless froze in sudden, terrible anticipation.

The Voice of the Antiniums grip had torn the strings. His own instrument! Flora trembled as his gaze swept over her

And past her. He wasnt looking at her at all. He was staring atat

Suddenly, the Centenium did not seem so weary. He did not seem so tired, or calm. Something filled the air.

Wrath. The other Antinium were tensed. One spoke, aiming towards the throne, the Deathless.

What? Battle?

One word from him and everyone died. Yet the Voice of the Antinium said nothing. Slowly, more strings snapped. Yet when he spoke, Czkelcills voice was filled with the same loathing, the same hatred as Flora felt emanating off of him. A rage beyond naming. Cold fury deeper than any grave.

The enemy has multiplied.

She did not know what it meant. The Antinium did. And it seemed then, as if the world did end. But how did he know?

What did he stare at?

Not even Silvenia and Czautha and the Death of Wings could see. Yet there the Centenium looked. He felt it. He saw

It. It paused on its long journey. Past Terandria, far from Chandrar where it had begun. It had delayed, stalled, meandered. The journey meant as much as the end, after all.

It of the six. It was not alone, but only it dared tread on Rhirs ground now. That was a madness of a different kind.

Even in the land of the dead, Rhir was empty. Two more watched warily from a distance.

The Huntress and the Dancing Man. They had followed it, seeing a change in one of their companions. They were alarmed, but did not tread on Rhir.

Why had it stopped? What was it looking at? For a moment, it stared at something, and the gaze was returned, across a veil thinner than paper, as wide as

But if one person felt it

So did something else. And it too

Stirred.

Stirs. The enemy stirs.

The first croak came from the representative of War Queen Heclaivk. No longer calm, logical pronouncements, but a strained voice.

Suddenly, more voices filled the air, from the other five Antinium. They spoke rapidly, no longer in silence, forcing the words out that they might be heard through one medium or another.

Czkelcill. Return. Return.

The Unitasis Network is breaking.

Queens are dying.

It was so fast. One second everyone was tensedthe next, they were watching a nightmare, but one they couldnt understand. The Centenium turned. Another voice cried out.

Slk Hiveeradicated. Wrchrl Hive under siege. It stirs.

That was enough. The Centenium moved for the exit. The other six were already blurs, and shouts and screams filled the air as they left the throne room so fast the Demons outside thought it was a prelude to war. Silvenia shot after the Bard of the Antinium as he moved after them.

What is happening? Wait! Wait! What about our reinforcements?

He stopped only once, and spoke to the Deathless, the Demons, Flora, as they poured out after the Antinium retreating to fightsomething. Their old enemy.

Our kin on Izril. Tell them we are waiting. We cannot wait long. Not anymore.

Czkelcill stopped a moment. Looked at Silvenia, dead in her eyes. He nodded.

If we fall, flee.

Then he was gone, racing back the way he had come. Leaving the Demons bereft of their allies and fearing, with a mystery. What had happened?

What is it doing?

That was the question. It had nearly died. All of Rhir had stirred, as, provoked by footsteps, even in the lands of the dead

Yet it was insane. That was what worried the others. If they could have, the two would have found all five so they could worry together. Of the six, and they all had foibles, strengths and faults, this one was the mostmost

Unpredictable. It walked past the broken lands of Rhir, now. Not close to Drath; Drath was dangerous in death. But further onwards.

Distance had meaning, but here it could be crossed faster, although time had less understanding too. They followed, watching.

Further still. Over sea, as the last large landmasses faded away into the distance. Past islands, bare pieces of land. Some were tiny rocks, and furthest out, closest to that edge of the world was where the furthest Earther had arrived.

Yet. That was not what it sought. Not that island. Not the living, waking world.

Something else. At last, the two, Huntress and Dancing Man could bear it no longer. Because they feared this inevitable conclusion. It would be beyond insanity. Yet if any of them were of kind and nature to do this

Norechl. What are you planning? Come back! This is madness. Even for us. Do you not know what lies there?

So he called the name of it. And at last, with a kind of gleeful malice, it turned.

Norechl. A being with no face, though they could be anything. No features. No real shape to body, like Tamaroth. It did not change like Kasigna. It was

Nothing. Nothing concrete. The absence of something. It was not of leaders.

It rulednothing. It was of lost things. It was of lost things, and that was what you understood. Lost things, dark places, where the forgotten lay.

Norechl stood there, on the rushing waters, over something that warped even this land of death itself. No ghost would ever emerge from the depths. Here was the end of the world.

The Last Tide? No, the Last Tide was what lay up to it. But that darkness past the edge, as waters roared downwards in a forever torrent. Norechl peered down there.

Dont go closer.

The Huntress grabbed the Dancing Man. They were afraid. But just as afraid of

Do not. You will ruin all. We will overcome them. There is no point to victoryand this would be no victory if nothing remains. Not even us!

The Dancing Man warned Norechl. All he got in return was

A smile. A terrible, malicious smile. A smile with no face.

The exact same smile it had given as it beheld the stolen umbrella, that sword. It turned as the Dancing Man moved forwards, taking a risk

Do not

And fell over the edge.

Gravity. Some kind of gravity, no, something pulled it downwards. For a moment it was visible, a shadow even amongst darkness. The Huntress and Dancing Man peered over the edge.

Norechl is dead.

The Huntress said at last. The Dancing Man hesitated.

What if it is not? The others must know. If it is dead it is one thing. Down there. But if not?

If not? The two looked at each other.

They stared down for a long time, over the edge. Into

The two backed away. They fled, hoping that their kin was dead. But worse things than death existed.

So the music ran still, as Rhir stirred and Antinium held. So music played, a beautiful thing across places, connecting, binding. A powerful force indeed, until you remembered:

There were places you could fall where even music had died.

Authors Note: Im back. The Last Tide finished its Kickstarter shortly before now. Which is good.

Its time to write. Thank you for making it a huge success and I hope you enjoy it! I think its not going to be too long in coming out? Obviously printing takes longer, but the digital versions might be soon?

Im tired so Im not making sense. And I have a confession: I wrote this in two parts, not three because I uh, forgot what day it was. So yesterday I realized very late that I hadnt even done a bit of writing and had to make it up.

Even so, I got a big chapter done! I hope the quality didnt suffer, but Im off break!

And no, this isnt the poll chapter. Sometimes you have to write what fits and I think this fits. Ill give you the poll chapter later in the month. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

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