Ryk E. Spoor's Blog, page 50

Phoenix in Shadow: Chapter 5

 

Well, Our Heroes had decided it was time to get moving…

 

 

——

 

 

Chapter 5.

     “A far finer parting, this, than the last time you left us, Kyri,” said Jeridan Relion, the Watchland of Evanwyl. The ruler of the little country bowed extravagantly low to Kyri, and took her hand in his. Poplock felt the tiniest twitch from Tobimar at that, and wondered how long it would be before his friend talked to Kyri about what he felt. I mean, he can’t be unaware of it… can he?

“That it is, Jeridan,” Kyri said, and her smile held a grateful laugh. There was no sign of the subliminal tension he’d seen in her a couple of times around the Watchland – times that, she admitted, for some reason she found the Watchland to feel more distant, though there was nothing overtly different about his behavior. “I have avenged my brother, we have found the rot at the heart of our country, and have begun the healing. But we can’t stay longer; there are still so many questions left unanswered, and we must seek the answers.”

The Watchland nodded; he had walked, rather than ridden, to bid Kyri and her friends goodbye, and Poplock could see why. While one of his chosen Arms to guard and assist him today was Torokar Heimdalyn, a Child of Odin in massive armor that was obviously styled something like that of the Justiciars (and thus reminded Poplock of Bolthawk), the other was Gantrista-[unpronounceable], a Shellikaki. Usually called Gan, the gigantic land-crab with his carefully-crafted shell was one of only a few that lived in the forests near the river. Gan obviously wasn’t one to ride on any ordinary mount, but was so formidable that accommodating his slowness was generally well worth it.

“So where do you seek?” Gan asked in his sharp, whirring voice. “To the East and the Wanderer? To the North,” his massive claws made a shielding gesture, “and the Hollow?”

“Eventually to Moonshade Hollow, I think, yes,” Kyri answered, “but first to the Spiritsmith.”

“What?” Torokar Heimdalyn spoke up in surprise. “Is your Raiment damaged, then?”

“Oh, it’s not for her,” Tobimar spoke up. “It’s for me.” As per their agreement, Tobimar did not draw attention to Poplock. Thus far, the fact that the little Toad was often overlooked, and even if noted discounted as a familiar or a pet, had worked drastically to their advantage. Even here, Poplock tried to mostly maintain a stolid, dumb-Toadlike façade and be taken as such. Whoever the enemy really is, he, she, or it might still have spies here.

“My equipment isn’t up to the standards of the Justiciars,” Tobimar went on. “So Kyri believes we can get better equipment there.”

“You most certainly shall,” agreed the Watchland, “if, of course, the Spiritsmith will see you.”

“There is that,” admitted Kyri, “but I think he will not refuse. He implied that I might be able to return without having to run his gantlet again.” She turned and gestured. “And I will not be leaving Vantage Fortress unwarded this time.”

The Watchland’s face registered genuine surprise and gratification as Lythos came forward. “By the Balance, I had heard rumors, but it is truly a wonderful thing to see for myself. Sho-Ka-Taida, I could not hope for better hands to hold the Fortress while its masters are gone.”

Good, he’s happy. Or he’s a really good actor. Poplock, honestly, didn’t like having to be suspicious of everyone, and everything, but after what they’d gone through, it just made sense. The Watchland was trusted by everyone in Evanwyl, which to Poplock’s mind made him one of the prime suspects. In theory that was true of Lythos, too, but he and Tobimar had checked the Elf out pretty carefully after his reappearance, and Kyri had no doubts he was who he had been the last time she saw him.

But the Watchland seems to be, well, who he seems to be, too. Poplock studied him carefully through his two front paws, held to guide spell-born mystical sight. General aura’s positive, very positive, not dark at all. No sign of shapeshifting. Some traces of magic, but everyone uses some, and he may have quite a few spells around his armor or home. Don’t see anything else around him that doesn’t belong. That doesn’t prove anything, but it’s a good indication. Neither of his Arms look suspicious, though that shell of Gan’s has got some fairly hefty wards on it!

“I thank you, Watchland,” Lythos was saying, and bowed deeply before Jeridan. “I shall do all in my power to ensure that Phoenix Kyri’s work is not undone.”

“Then we shall have few fears indeed.” Poplock saw Tobimar’s distant expression as the Watchland looked down the road that led to the south, and the little Toad recognized that his friend was exercising the strange not-magic disciplines to sense the way of the world about him. Good, he’s double-checking me.

“You have returned from Zarathanton,” the Watchland said. “How was the journey? Can we expect –”

“No, Watchland,” Lythos said bluntly. “I was myself sorely beset three times on my journey. Evanwyl is cut off, now; be grateful that the great war keeps the larger powers occupied, with no effort to spare for such a small country as ours. The forces behind these disasters are great, and subtle, and wide-ranging indeed. Evanwyl must rely upon itself alone.”

Tobimar moved his shoulder front-and-back – a subtle cue that would just look like a man shrugging or loosening a tight joint, but that they’d agreed meant All clear. Obviously Tobimar didn’t see anything wrong with the Watchland or his entourage either.

The Watchland nodded. “Alas; I had suspected as much, when no messengers I had sent returned, and no travelers but young Tobimar here. So then I must ask, what of Lady Victoria?”

“My aunt,” Kyri said slowly, “has sent, with Lythos, the direction that Vantage Fortress shall pass to me. She does not know when she will return, for she has other duties which have become more pressing.” They had decided not to detail those “other duties”. After all, Poplock thought, whoever the overarching enemy was, it was probably responsible for all the disruptions around the world, including Aegeia. No need for there to be any hints as to the family’s involvement in that mess.

The Watchland looked surprised. “That has a ring of finality about it. Is she well?”

“Last I saw her, excellently well, Jeridan, and so Lythos confirmed, but she can’t return and doesn’t know when she will. From her point of view, since I’ve taken up responsibility for Evanwyl anyway, it’s time for me to inherit everything.” Kyri looked down. “I’m still going to think of it as hers, though.”

Jeridan laughed. “As will every one of us, I am sure. She was mistress of Vantage Fortress in the time of my father, let alone in my time. So still I shall hope for her return.”

“If she does,” Kyri said, “I’ll give this right back to her.”

There was a chuckle around the small group. “I see you have your traveling pack on; you are leaving this very minute?”

“We are, sir,” said Tobimar. “Now that we’re assured of the Fortress’ safety, we have to move quickly. Kyri’s time was well spent here, I think, but we have taken a great deal of time and given our adversaries a chance to recover.”

“Then we shall delay you no longer,” the Watchland said decisively. “May the Balanced Sword guide and protect you all.” He bowed again to Kyri, shook Tobimar’s hand – and flickered the very slightest of winks at Poplock.

Hm. So he does know. Does kind of limit how much I can rely on those results of my vision. Still, hiding significant facts from those spells took a lot of work.

“Farewell, Jeridan! Goodbye, Gan, Torokar! Goodbye, Lythos!”

The small party turned towards the south and walked onward, towards the distant mountains of Hell’s Rim. Poplock, as he often did, watched behind.

And he could see that Jeridan Relion did not move, but kept his eyes on Kyri, until they disappeared into the forest.

 

 

 

 

Phoenix in Shadow: Chapter 4

Kyri and her party had just had an unexpected guest arrive…

 

 

 

Chapter 4.

 

Tobimar hadn’t recognized the tall Artan, but he knew the name that Kyri gasped as the warrior nearly fell face-first to the polished stone floor. He taught her entire family, including her parents, her brother, and her sister.

Kyri reached the Artan warrior, whose deep-violet hair pooled slightly on the floor before him as he sat on all fours, arms and knees supporting him so he looked like a man broken. “Lythos… Sho-Ka-Taida, are you all right?”

The head lifted then, and Tobimar could see a tiny smile, a glint of amusement in the eyes that matched the hair. “More exhausted and worn than I have been in many generations, but my injuries are minor. I have… perhaps driven myself too far, too fast, and have so failed to take my own advice, eh, Kyri Vantage?”

“You… you…” To Tobimar’s astonishment, Kyri suddenly burst into tears and threw her arms around Lythos; by the Artan‘s expression, it was at least as great a surprise to him. “Lythos, I thought you might be dead! Thank the Balance!”

A great sadness descended upon Lythos, clouding the long, aristocratic features and dimming the smile. “Ah, of course you would have. Nearly I was, as well. It has been a trying time – but no less for you, I think.”

Leaning slightly on Kyri’s arm, Lythos stood. “If you will allow me to sit at table with you, I can refresh myself some and speak with you a while, before I must rest. But now that I acknowledge my body’s warnings, hold them no longer at bay, I will admit that rest must come soon.”

Kyri helped him sit. “You said you were injured, Lythos.” She said the word as though she found the concept impossible to grasp. Then she shook herself and straightened. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling. I sound like I’m fourteen again.”

Her hands rested on Lythos’ shoulders, and the gold-fire glow of the power of Myrionar shone out, the power that Kyri Vantage could wield because she was the one, the true, and only Justiciar of Myrionar. Even though this was far from the first time he had seen that power, the sight still sent a tingle of awe through Tobimar. His own god, Terian, rarely granted such powers to warriors who walked the world, nor did He often intervene directly.

Lythos’ head came up, and in his eyes Tobimar saw an echo of the same awe, and, at the same time, something else: vindication. “So it is true, Kyri Victoria Vantage. You are now the Phoenix Justiciar, the one to reclaim the honor that was lost and cleanse the stain from Myrionar’s name. So I heard rumor as I approached.” His voice was stronger, though still exhausted, and the lines that had hinted at pain and injury were gone.

Kyri bowed. “Because you taught me, and I learned, I suppose, enough.”

“Enough, yes.” He smiled again, and that simple expression made Kyri smile back at him. For a moment Tobimar found himself wondering if there was something else in that smile, then kicked himself, mentally. If there is, it is no business of mine. Besides, he is Artan and ancient; he wouldn’t think of … and there I go again! It’s not my business! Stop thinking about it! WHY am I thinking about it?

Vanstell himself laid a plate with carefully prepared delicacies before Lythos. “Welcome home, Sho-Ka-Taida,” he said. “You have been greatly missed.”

“Many thanks, Vanstell.” Lythos took several bites, sipped at water, and seemed to finally begin to relax. “Milady Kyri Vantage, I bring to you a message from your aunt, your middle namesake Victoria.”

Formality; it is an important message, then.

Kyri had clearly caught that implication as well. “May I have the message, then?”

From within a case bound to his armor, Lythos withdrew a gem and placed it in Kyri’s hand. Tobimar saw Poplock rise up in startlement. Gem of Speaking; haven’t seen one of those since I saw one conveyed by linkstone to Toron himself. They’re expensive and used only for carrying messages of great import.

Kyri took the gem and held it tightly. “I am Kyri Vantage. Show me the message,” she said.

Tobimar had only seen Victoria Vantage once, from a distance, in front of the Palace of the Dragon, but from that glimpse and the portraits around the house he could instantly recognize the older woman – hair streaked with silver, proud and sculpted features not terribly different from those of Kyri herself – who suddenly appeared in the air before them. She wore a brown and green travel outfit, with a pack perched on her shoulders and a staff in her hand.

“Kyri,” Victoria Vantage said, “As you have this message, you already know that – by great good fortune – Lythos has returned to us. I hope this message finds you well and … successful in your quest.

“I had hoped,” and her voice was wry, “to return to Vantage Fortress relatively soon; I hardly intended to leave you with no support, even if the Dragon King could not aid you, and I was certain I could find someone to watch over Urelle while I returned to assist you.

“However… Urelle took things into her own hands, and has run away.”

Kyri gasped in shock. “Run away? Oh, Myrionar, no!”

Victoria Vantage shook her head. “Now, don’t panic. At least, not terribly much.” The apparently apropos comment reminded Tobimar strongly of the message he’d received from Khoros, where every comment he thought to make had already been anticipated and answered by the ancient mage.

“She didn’t run away from despair, nor to try and catch up with you,” Victoria continued, and Tobimar saw Kyri relax the tiniest bit. She doesn’t want to have that responsibility, of her sister’s safety, added to her problems. “Unfortunately, it is, in a way, your fault. And mine, I admit.”

The tension was back, as the recorded message went on. “You of course recall young Ingram and Quester, who helped escort us here to Zarathanton. I also have little doubt that you noticed that Urelle seemed … rather taken with the young man. Which I cannot entirely blame her for, he is formidable, polite, and rather pretty. But a few weeks after you had left… well, obviously I had to inform your sister of what had happened. Keeping such secrets from her would be an insult to one of our family, and she had to know why you had left, and what it meant.

“In any case, she was as you might guess more than a bit annoyed – one might even say quite put out – that we chose to keep her out of the adventure to avenge Rion and the rest. I believe she actually went out one night and tried to get Myrionar to call her as well!”

Nervous as she obviously was, Kyri laughed at that. “Oh, she would. And I’m half-surprised Myrionar didn’t.”

“Well, a few weeks after that, Ingram received a courier message from home – from Aegeia itself, one that had been spelled to find him – and it apparently contained dire news of his homeland. I of course gave him leave to return home – we had found a decent household by then – but when he did –”

Kyri finished the line along with her distant Aunt, “—Urelle had gone with him.”

“Without warning,” her aunt added. “I don’t believe this was a romantic action – or not entirely. Urelle’s a bit more dramatic in that area than you, Kyri, but she’s not witless. I believe that she got details out of Ingram of what had happened back home, and decided that if she couldn’t help her sister, that she’d help Ingram who’d defended us and guided us. How she convinced him to let her come… I have no idea.”

Victoria Vantage sighed. “So, Kyri, you understand that I cannot come home now. As you can see, I am leaving – the moment this message is finished – to try to catch up to her. Urelle’s not helpless, but you have seen what is happening to the world. I am afraid – I am very much afraid – that what is happening in Aegeia is a part of that. I cannot let my youngest niece and that half-grown boy face it alone, or even solely with Quester’s help.”

She looked momentarily sad and worried. “I pray to the Balanced Sword that you are well, and that you understand, and that – please, Myrionar – you do not need my help now. I know that Lythos will help you in any way he can. May the Balance guide you and support you. I love you, Kyri – and I am as proud of you as I would be of my own daughter. Be well, be safe…” and her smile suddenly returned, “and be victorious.”

The image faded and Kyri stood there for a moment, unmoving. Then she looked down to Lythos, who had continued eating during the message. “So you—”

“—had arrived only a short time after she had discovered Urelle’s departure, yes. She begged me to carry this message to you, if you could be found, and I agreed.” A shadow passed again over his face. “There is… nothing left for me in the Forest Sea, now.”

“My sympathies, Artan,” Tobimar said.

“Thank you. And I forget my manners as well; I am Lythos-Hei-Mandalar, called Lythos by those whom I call friend or ally. As you sit here as a guest, I take you to be at least the latter, if not the former.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lythos!” Kyri looked mortified. “I should have at least done that much before grabbing Auntie’s letter. Lythos, this is Tobimar Silverun of Skysand, Seventh of Seven, and one of three reasons I’m still alive after facing false Justiciar Thornfalcon. That little toad poking around through the fruit is Poplock Duckweed of Pondsparkle, the second reason.” Poplock waved but said nothing; given that his mouth was bulging, Tobimar suspected he couldn’t say anything right now.

“It is an honor to meet you both,” Lythos said, and rose to give them the wide-armed bow of the Artan. “And I suppose that Myrionar’s favor is the third reason?”

Kyri’s blue eyes twinkled. “Well, okay, four reasons. The third I can’t introduce to you because he’s not here, but his name is Xavier Ross of Zahralandar itself.”

The lavender eyebrow quirked upward. “You have indeed found some most interesting allies, Kyri.” He leaned back,and his weariness was clear in the way that he sagged slightly in the chair. “You also obviously know what has passed in the Forest Sea and elsewhere, so I will not insist on telling you that dark tale, not now; I have passed through it and survived, and I do not wish to dwell upon it any more.” He nodded to her. “There are some things I must speak of with you alone, even though these are obviously boon companions and Adventurers of much worth. But before that, I will say this: if leave you must, I will take the stewardship of Vantage Fortress, maintaining its name and strength for you. If this will meet with your approval, that is.”

“Meet my approval? Lythos – this is more than I could possibly have hoped. Everyone in Evanwyl knows you, you’ve been with our family for generations, and even the false Justiciars won’t dare go after you casually.”

That’s for sure, Tobimar mused. A Sho-Ka-Taida of the Artan, someone who trained two Justiciars and their parents… and theirs… Doesn’t matter if he’s not favored by a God, he’d still be open gates of Hells to fight.

“Then it shall be done… as long as you have a clear destination in mind? For I will not approve of just a random wandering to find your answers in this world.”

Kyri’s smile was now brilliant, a flash of white against skin nearly as brown as Tobimar’s own. “Oh, I do have a destination, Lythos.” She looked to Tobimar and Poplock. “Sorry, but if you…?”

“Of course.” Tobimar reached out and plucked Poplock from the table – the little Toad giving him an offended look but hanging onto a small cluster of Pixies’ Apples as Tobimar placed Poplock on his shoulder. He bowed to Lythos; Poplock was good at clinging, so he didn’t fall off. “We will speak later, then.”

“Just as well,” Poplock said finally as they exited the room. “I’ve got something for you. Well, something I think will work and I want to test before I gave it to you.”

“Something you weren’t going to show to Kyri?”

“Well…” The little toad scrunched his face comically. “It’s something only one of you can use, and honestly, she’s got a lot more going for her right now. If it works, it’ll be a useful secret that we have as a little backup.”

“Okay, what is it?” he asked. They emerged into one of the small side courtyards of Vantage Fortress. “Small” was of course relative; while Vantage Fortress wasn’t the size of his home castle, and utterly dwarfed by T’Teranahm Chendoron, the Dragon’s Palace, it was still a big building and the side courtyards were large enough to fit a good-sized house into. This particular courtyard was a sparring and exercise area, one that Tobimar had used a lot for practice of late.

“Here,” Poplock said. From inside the little pack on his back, the toad produced a carved crystal; it was about two inches wide and looked like frosted glass.

“Oh, a summoning crystal? What’s it for?”

“That’s what I want to test.” Poplock bounced off his shoulder and all the way over to the other side of the courtyard, near a notched pell for sword practice. “Okay, now that I’m well away –”

“—are you expecting something dangerous to happen?” Tobimar studied the sphere suspiciously.

“Trust me, Tobimar. Now, all you have to do is say “Come forth!” and throw it down, concentrating on calling something to your aid.”

Despite the Toad’s occasionally low sense of humor, Tobimar knew that Poplock was very much his friend and he would, in fact, trust Poplock Duckweed with his life. “All right,” he said. Envisioning a sudden and powerful need for aid, he gripped the gem. “Come forth!” he shouted,and threw it down.

The crystal sphere shattered with a brilliant flash, and in its place was…

Poplock Duckweed.

Tobimar stared in disbelief, then looked back to where Poplock had been an instant ago. “A teleport sphere?”

“No, a summoning sphere.”

“But… you… It’s summoning you!”

“Yeah, pretty darn neat, isn’t it?”

“What… how do you do that? You can’t summon yourself!” Tobimar stopped, took a breath. “Okay, wrong, obviously you are doing that. But… how?”

Poplock hopped onto a nearby post, his motion somehow conveying smug satisfaction. “Well, you understand how summoning works, right?”

“Sort of, I guess. I know there’s a lot of different types of magic. Summoning… you bargain with a being or a spirit, right?”

Poplock waggled back and forth. “Sometimes. Little minor spirits don’t have much thinking ability so you can’t do much of a bargain, just pull them up, bind them, and let them pop back home when they’ve done the bound service. Bigger ones you can still bind whether they like it or not, but if you do that you’d better be real good at defense, because they’ll be really nasty to you if they get a chance. You would too, if someone just dragged you out of your house and stuck you in a crystal, or forced you to promise to come when signaled – even if you were, like, in a bath at the time or something.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Since he was already here, Tobimar decided to do a little post-dinner exercise. You can never get too much practice.

“But a lot of summoning is more… contacting the target and working out a deal where you can call on them, and in return you give them something. Sometimes you bind them directly into the summon crystal, but usually it’s more a trigger power that just pops open the gate keyed to the target, with their participation helping to draw them to you.” The little Toad bounced up to his shoulder. “So I wondered if I could summon, you know, regular people. Sasha thought that was kind of funny; a lot of summoning students ask that question, I guess, and the answer is yes, you can, if they’re willing, but there’s a catch: the summoning crystal gets really, really big.”

Tobimar burst out laughing. “But that’s because it’s related to the physical size of what you draw through, right?”

Poplock bounced affirmatively. “Quick on the uptake there! Exactly. If you’re summoning a spirit – something that’s not physical – the crystals top out pretty much at a couple inches or so, but if you’re pulling through something solid, mundane, it’s gotta be proportional to what you’re calling, and that means, for a human being-sized summon, a rock about the size of Kyri’s helm.”

“Oof. Even with a neverfull pack that’s not something you’ll carry dozens of.” He shook his head, looking down at the little brown Toad. I think he’s smarter than either me or Kyri. “But for you, it’s just a little crystal.”

“Right. And it’s not hard for me to get in contact with myself and convince myself to agree to work for myself, so the summoning and agreement work out pretty well. Now that we know it works, I’m gonna make another of those, and you get to keep it. Just in case something happens.”

Tobimar could imagine a lot of scenarios where having that little crystal could come in handy; Poplock Duckweed was formidable in a way that even people who recognized that he was, in fact, a full-fledged member of the team often just didn’t grasp. “That’s a drought-damned good idea.” He looked down at the spot where he’d thrown the crystal. “I have to invoke it, trigger it with my own power, link it to me when I use it, right?”

Poplock bounce-nodded in reply. “Right, that’s why you have to say ‘come forth’ and concentrate hard on the calling.”

“What happens if you invoke it yourself?”

The Toad’s face scrunched up, one eye practically pulled into the head, the other staring wider in concentration. “Well, it would… hmm, I’d be invoking the magic, but the connection has to go to… But no, wait, that doesn’t work, because…” He shook his whole body. “Grrrgg! Gives me a headache! I have no idea what would happen, and I am not going to try that. No.”

Tobimar laughed. “Wouldn’t want you to risk it. But it seemed a sort of final conclusion to the whole self-referential idea.”

“True enough.” The little Toad hopped back onto his shoulder as Tobimar began practicing combat movements. “Training again, after dinner?”

“If we’re going to be leaving soon, yes. As we so astutely observed before, we’re completely outclassed as things stand; we’d better practice whenever we can.”

Poplock grunted. “Can’t argue that. So just solo practice, or you want to spar?”

“Against you, alone?”

“If you’re afraid…”

“Maybe I should be,” Tobimar admitted. “I’ve seen you in action. But a Prince of Skysand can’t back down from that kind of challenge.” He let the little Toad bounce down and get to the other side of the courtyard. “All right – come at me!”

 

Polychrome: Chapter 28

 

Well, it looked as though Erik was going to get a companion…

 

——

 

 

Chapter 28.

     “So, Lord Erik, we head for the Nome King’s domain once we have landed?”

I turned and smiled at Zenga. She was easy to smile at, having the dark-coffee skin of most of Pingaree’s people combined with the sharper-cut features of her mother to produce a girl of striking beauty. “Yes and no, Princess.”

“You are far too young to speak in riddles,” she retorted, leaning on the rail next to me. “That is the province of wizened old wizards and priests.”

She was dressed in an outfit that I, being totally unversed in the ways of clothing, couldn’t give a name to, but it was some sort of protective clothing that was meant to allow someone free movement… and apparently to still be properly stylish as well. As she came from and was used to a very warm climate, it also wasn’t particularly modest, which did put some slight demands on my eyeball control. Fortunately, I’d had a great deal of practice with that around Poly.

“Old as your father looks, at least. Old enough so that I could have had daughters of my own who had children by now.” I couldn’t use the line that first occurred to me, which was “old enough to be your father”, since the way time flowed and the slightly-faerie humanity of these realms aged, she was still probably as old or older than me in actual years. “Still, it’s not exactly a riddle. Eventually I have to get to the Nome King, but first I have to find the key that unlocks his door.”

“And you know where to find this… key?” She studied me curiously. “I have no doubt there are a number of people that would like to find such a thing.”

I don’t doubt it. “I know, I think, how to go about finding it, even though I don’t know exactly where it is.”

She nodded, though undoubtedly that didn’t really explain much to her. “So first we are heading…?”

“… to the border between Gilgad and the Nome King’s lands. That’s the best region to search.” I glanced into the sky, noting that this time there wasn’t a sign of cloud; so far it seemed that our adversaries weren’t going to attempt another ambush at sea. “I don’t think I’ll say anything more until we’re on our way there.”

She blinked, then looked around the ship. “You … suspect a spy on the Pearl of Gilgad?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” I answered with a chuckle. “However, even an overheard word can turn out to be a danger under some circumstances, and in this case since you’re going to be following me regardless – you made that clear enough – I have no reason to take any risks in that area until we’re somewhere that makes it necessary that you understand what’s going on.”

Her head tilted and she gazed at me speculatively, curiously. “And yet certain things you have made no secret of. I’m not sure how to read you, Lord Erik.”

“Good.” I said, in a voice deliberately deeper with a slight higher-pitched secondary tone which I was pleased to note came out well; my Vorlon imitation was always a tough one.

Zenga blinked in confusion, and I laughed. “The point being that if people traveling with me can’t figure me out easily, then hopefully neither can my adversaries.”

“That makes sense.” She bit her lip – in what was I thought a clearly deliberate affectation that made her look younger and more innocent. “Could… I ask you another question, Lord Erik?”

“As I always say, you can ask any time; whether you get any answers, that’s a different matter.”

She made a very disrespectful face, which of course just made me grin wider. “Why did you let me come along? It was clear to me that you could have said no, and my father would in many ways have preferred it so.”

“Yes, that was fairly clear.” King Inga’s face had shown how worried he was, even if somehow his wife and daughter had argued him into it, and when it had become clear that she was, in fact, going, he’d taken Zenga aside and had a talk with her well out of earshot and mostly out of sight to everyone else.

Some of my reasons I wasn’t going to tell her yet, but there were others I could. “Well, the Prophecy said I had to pick up companions on my way, so I was expecting actually to get one at Pingaree. I suppose I’d originally expected Prince Inga – the books kinda get stuck in your head when you’ve read them so many times as a kid, and I hadn’t thought much about him growing up. Your brother didn’t seem at all interested in coming, either.”

“Nikki?” she said, using the diminuitive of Prince Nikkikut’s name. “No, Nikki’s into the books and studies. It’s all that Father can do to get him out of the library and into the sunlight most of the time. Except for fishing – he’s one of the best pearl-fishers his age.”

“And it was pretty clear to me that you weren’t unable to take care of yourself.”

She patted the hilts of the twin swords that hung near her hips, somehow staying in the inverted sheaths that crossed her back, the tips projecting over her shoulders. “My swordmasters say I’m one of the best. Father did have me trained from the time I was little; I think he was still remembering the time he had to survive the attack on his own.”

“So,” I continued, “I figured that I had good reason to have you along based on the Prophecy. Second, you’re a Princess of Pingaree; even though Pingaree is known to have only a small navy and no army to speak of, its defeat and eventual consolidation of Regos and Coregos gives your country a powerful reputation. King Inga, by sending his eldest child, is sending a message that he has chosen to cast his lot with me and the Rainbow Lord. This is a very significant political signal, and one that I hope will be useful.”

She glanced over my shoulder; I reached up, curious as to what she was looking at, and my fingers found the empty scabbard that was just visible to her. “You didn’t feel you needed protection?”

I laughed. “Not in that sense, Princess –”

“—please, call me Zenga.”

“Okay. Not in that sense, Zenga. Truth be told, I’d forgotten I lost the sword.” I’d lost it, of course, when I’d fallen five hundred feet into the sea. “And honestly speaking, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I keep breaking the swords. I’m surprised I haven’t broken my armor yet.”

She looked at me with an expression of wary suspicion, clearly trying to figure out if I was putting her on. “You do not look so… mighty as that makes you sound, if you will forgive me for saying so, Lord –”

“—Erik, if you’re insisting on ‘Zenga’.”

“Thank you. Then, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, you don’t appear so mighty as to have to worry about shattering your weapons and armor, Erik.”

That got a grin. “No doubt. And I’m not so much mighty as just different. But that’s one of the reasons I need to find the Nome King. He can almost certainly make weapons and armor that will survive my use.”

That was one aspect I’d thought about quite a bit. The sky fairies like those in the Rainbow Kingdom hardly ever touched mundane materials. The Nomes, on the other hand, had to tunnel through rock, work iron and brass and stone and so on. Even though a lot of what they dealt with was, of course, also magical, I was pretty sure that if they understood what I needed they could probably make me stuff that I couldn’t break no matter how hard I used it.

I could see she wasn’t quite clear on why I found my current material so fragile – obviously she wouldn’t be able to break my armor if I handed it to her and let her beat on it all day – but my matter-of-fact delivery seemed to convince her that I wasn’t just bragging. “And you think you can convince King Kaliko to help you, when he’s refused to take sides at all for centuries?”

I shrugged, but then nodded. “I can’t be sure… but yes, if I can find my key and get in front of him, I think I’ve got a good shot at it. He has to know that – like everyone else – in the end Ugu and Amanita are going to come for him. They’ll have to, to secure their realm permanently. He’s too powerful to take a chance on.”

“And you’re not telling me any more.”

“Nope. Not right now. Once we’re alone in the wilds, yes.”

“Well, then, I look forward to being alone with you.”

What? Was that a wink? I found myself staring, momentarily very discomfited, as Zenga swayed across the deck to where a practice area had been set up, drew her swords, and began warming up.

Inkarbleu came up next to me as I watched her practicing. “A man of deep policy is King Inga… or perhaps his Queen.”

“Huh?” I admit this wasn’t perhaps the most witty rejoinder. “How so?”

“A Queen is unlikely to encourage, nor a King agree to, the sending of their only daughter on such a dangerous expedition unless they foresee a potential for vast benefit in it.”

“Well, yeah. They want Ugu defeated and they understand I have to have political backing besides just the Rainbow Lord.”

Inkarbleu looked at me with an expression that made me feel like an idiot. “Hmmm… perhaps you are as naïve as you sound. How … refreshing, in a way. That political backing could have been achieved in a number of other ways, none of which would require risking his eldest and most beloved child.”

“I… suppose. But then what’s the point of sending her?”

Inkarbleu blinked, then smiled. “Perhaps… perhaps none at all, my Lord Erik.” He walked away, shaking his head and chuckling.

What the hell was so funny?

 

 

 

 

Phoenix in Shadow: Chapter 3

 

Kyri was remembering the recent past…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 3.

     The twin swords flickered at her like darting reflections from a pool of water, and Kyri realized just how very, very good Tobimar Silverun was with those weapons. In moments she deflected two strikes with her own sword, and still felt three, no, four impacts of those blades on her Raiment. And I’ve already increased my speed some.

The raven-black hair was pulled back in a long ponytail that swirled behind Tobimar as he pirouetted away from her retaliatory attack; his brilliant blue eyes measured her, calm yet with a hint of the laughing joy she knew he felt, that she echoed, at this chance to push each other to their limits against a foe worthy of their skill yet not an enemy to be destroyed.

“Heads up!” called another voice.

Oh, no!

The third combatant was so small that even with the hint of his voice she didn’t see him; the sphere of swirling vapor hurtling at them, however, was all too obvious. She called the flame of the Phoenix and carved downward, slashing a safe haven through the spell; at her side, Tobimar did the same somehow, weaving a defense from willpower and the unique discipline of the art which the mage Khoros had taught him.

“Attacking us both?” Tobimar shook his head. “In that case, my lady, shall we?”

“Oh, yes, let’s.”

Now she and Tobimar ran stride-for-stride towards the source of that mystical assault, and a part of her remembered how – even when they had first met, before they had even been formally introduced – somehow they had known how to work together.

A tiny brown streak burst from a clump of grass on that side of the training field, and suddenly the mists erupted low and thick, covering the ground to a depth of two feet. That’s not good; we can’t see him coming –

She closed her eyes, letting the Truth of Myrionar guide her, even as she knew Tobimar would be extending his own senses…

There!

From the ground behind them Poplock Duckweed sprang, and he gave a flip in midair that, astonishingly, caused Tobimar Silverun’s sword to pass just under him. Kyri’s sword blocked the little Toad’s path to her, but he wasn’t aiming for the young Justiciar, but at his partner, Tobimar. Now he was on the Prince of Skysand, scuttling with startling surety under the arm, even as it swung, then around to the back –

And Tobimar flipped and came down on his back. Poplock barely got out from underneath in time, but he had Steelthorn out, the slender blade glittering deadly silver –

— and freezing, as he realized that the immense gold-red sheened sword Flamewing was an inch from his brown-warty hide. “Whoops.”

“Do you both yield?” she asked with a grin, and she could see that Tobimar realized the way she was standing, she could simply run them both through.

“Yield,” said the Toad, sheathing Steelthorn.

“Yield,” agreed Tobimar. Once she lifted her blade, he rose. “Shall we try another?”

“Best four out of seven?” she asked with a grin. “No, I think this is more than enough for today. I’m quite winded.”

“I think we all are.” Tobimar nodded to Poplock, who then bounced to each of them, removing the safecharm from their weapons. “That vortex ball – I didn’t expect that one. Where’d you learn that?”

“Sasha Rithair, of course,” the little Toad answered, bouncing to his accustomed location on Tobimar’s shoulder, as they walked back into the Vantage mansion. “She may specialize in summonings – and believe me, I’ve been learning those, too – but she’s got all the magic basics down, and after what we’ve been through, I figured I couldn’t just sit there and dabble in magic. Time to get serious about it.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Not that it does much when you guys can just cut the spell apart.”

Kyri laughed, and let the Raiment flow off her and onto a nearby rack. “You did warn us in advance. I don’t think you’ll do that with our enemies. Besides, that doesn’t always work.”

She noticed that Tobimar was sheathing and unsheathing his swords; the motion seemed slightly uneven. “What is it?”

He held up the slightly curved, tri-hilted swords with a rueful grin. She saw that the shining perfection of the metal was marred with dings and one was slightly bent. “I am afraid that even the finest swords in the Skysand armory weren’t really meant for contesting with Justiciars – real or false.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She was, truthfully, somewhat annoyed. Tobimar and she were allies against forces that even she barely understood, and the last thing they needed was one of them working at less than their top form.

“Oh, I kept meaning to get them repaired, but we’ve been doing so much putting Evanwyl back together it just never quite got done. You’re entirely right, though, I should have told you and made sure it was done. My apologies.”

His expression was so solemn that she couldn’t keep the serious look on her own face. “Oh, fine, fine, you’re forgiven. But aren’t your weapons magical? I can’t believe that Skysand has no mages.”

“Oh, we have some magicians, of various types, certainly. But … Kyri, you have to understand that fighting things that play on your level just isn’t the same as most battles. I’ve fought quite a few things – mazakh, graverisen, a few demons, once one of the least Wormspawn, a few other things – especially when we were travelling with Xavier – but you and Thornfalcon?” He shook his head ruefully. “My Lady, that is a whole different kind of thing. There were points in that battle where I knew if I had been too close, at the wrong angle, the power that you were both deflecting would be enough to kill me. Training with you… I think both Poplock and I have been learning just how very far we have to go.”

Startled, she looked at the two Adventurers. Tobimar was completely serious, and the Toad bobbed an assenting nod.

“Well,” she began, not quite knowing what to say. “Well… all right, I suppose there must be truth in that. If there wasn’t something special about a Justiciar, we wouldn’t need them. But really, training with the two of you makes me feel the same way. And sometimes I think that Xavier would have been worse.”

“Oh, no doubt,” said Poplock with a chuckle. His tongue snapped out to grab a flying insect before he continued. “He had some very nasty tricks.”

He glanced at the two of them as they hesitated at the base of the stairwell. “Oh, that’s right. Clean up or go to eat? Here, I’ll help with that.”

Kyri saw the Toad make a few gestures and a sparkling, cool mist enveloped her and Tobimar, evaporating to leave her feeling as though she’d just had a nice long shower. “Now that is impressive, Poplock.”

“Sure more useful in most situations than calling the thunder down,” Poplock agreed with a bounce, and held on as she and Tobimar headed for the dining hall. “So like I said, Xavier had some real nasty tricks. But power-wise? We were totally in the mud compared to you two, Kyri. You and Thornfalcon were way, way out of our normal playing level. Look at what you did at the end there, calling on Myrionar and wiping out… well, I don’t know how many, but it was a lot of monsters in one big flare. I’d bet Thornfalcon could do stuff like that too, if he had prepped.”

Kyri couldn’t argue; whatever power had been backing Thornfalcon – whatever it was that lay behind the false Justiciars – had been able to fake the Justiciars well enough that no one could tell. She had to assume anything she could do, they could equal. She seated herself at the table and nodded to Vanstell to have the food brought out. “You’re right. But I’d have been dead, dead, dead if you hadn’t come along. I really can’t see you as being that far below me.”

The exiled Prince of Skysand grinned, and snagged a crispwing as the platter was set down. “I didn’t say we didn’t have some kind of edge. But my poor swords, they didn’t have the edge.”

“Or rather, they don’t have much of an edge now,” Poplock corrected, earning a poke from his friend.

“I really think you need to get them fixed soon, Tobimar,” she said slowly, as she served herself from the other platters. “Evanwyl’s pretty stable now, and I know time’s slipping away.”

Tobimar paused in eating, and nodded seriously. “I know. I wasn’t going to push you – this is your country –”

“But maybe you should have. It doesn’t do any good to help Evanwyl if the threat that’s going to destroy it is still out there.”

“No one’s seen the other Justiciars, have they?”

She shook her head. “Not since they fled from the Temple before Arbiter Kelsley’s wrath, no. But that just means they’ve been taking this time to figure out their next step, while we’ve been clearing up everything… without ruining everything.” The two didn’t ask what she meant; they knew, and she was incredibly lucky the two had been able to stay and help her.

The problem of course was that the Justiciars being utterly corrupt – and in the case of Thornfalcon, vastly worse than merely corrupt – was a shattering blow to the faith that held up Evanwyl. The faith of Myrionar, the Balanced Sword, god of Justice and Vengeance, was represented most clearly by two groups: the priests – Arbiters and Seekers and such – and by the Justiciars, the living symbols of the faith. The fact that the entire order had become corrupt, had committed murders for years and never been caught, had even been able to mislead and trick Arbiter Kelsley undermined all the faith Evanwyl had relied on since before the last Chaoswar, at least.

So Kyri had had no choice but to stay, to shore up the damaged faith. It wasn’t just a matter of keeping Evanwyl together and strong, though that would have been more than enough for her, but it was also a matter of the mission Myrionar had laid upon her. She had to be, as the god had said, the living representative of the Balanced Sword, and surely that included keeping the few remaining worshippers – the people of Evanwyl – strong in their faith.

“You still can’t find the Justiciar’s Retreat?”

She shook her head and sighed. “I’d hoped that I could find it now, because I’m a real Justiciar. But whatever corrupted the Justiciars obviously dealt with that; I get no sense of location even when I head to the West, which I know is the right general direction. Rion told me that all he had to do was think about going to the Retreat and he suddenly knew exactly where he was going. Only one of the other false Justiciars can find their way to the Retreat now.”

“There has got to be some other way,” Poplock said emphatically, voice slightly muffled as he snagged a large green darter out of the air and stuffed it into his mouth. “There’s other gods, and magicians, and so on.”

Kyri nodded. “Oh, I have no doubt there is some other way. I just don’t know what it is. Neither does Arbiter Kelsley, or your new teacher Sasha.”

She saw Tobimar reached for another crispwing, to find that they were all gone. His expression as he looked down and realized he had eaten them all caused her to grin; she gestured to Sanhon, one of the three servers this evening, who whisked the old plate away and replaced it with another. “There you go, Master Tobimar.”

He had tried to convince them not to call him “Master”, but that had failed miserably, as she could have told him if he’d asked. So there was only a slight twitch before he replied, “Thank you, Sanhon. I don’t suppose…”

“You want more crispwings? Don’t you have them –”

“In Skysand? Almost never. They had to be imported from the Empire of the Mountain, at best, and maybe from somewhere in the State of the Dragon King. I think I got them three times before in my life, and these are just wonderful.”

The older woman – well, older than me, but not anything like old – smiled. “In that case I’m sure I can get Dankhron to fry up some more, if you can wait.”

“Thank you so much; I’d be glad to wait. I can always eat something else.” She watched as he surveyed the generous assortment of fruits, vegetables, and cheeses in the center of the table. Grabbing a handful of arlavas – greenish berries with a frosty sheen – he sat back and looked over to Kyri. “Well, all right, let’s leave that problem aside for now,” he said with a quick smile that emphasized the clean symmetry of his face. “Do you think you could leave Evanwyl now? Are things all right?”

Kyri considered. The Temple of the Balance was fully repaired, and – more importantly – people were attending regularly again, and she felt their faith, especially when she was there, part of the ceremony with Arbiter Kelsley. Their doubts had slowly faded over the last month or so; she knew this was because pretty much everyone in Evanwyl, from the Watchland to farmers and butchers and the other Eyes and Arms knew her, and they listened to her when she explained to them her faith, her mission, and the need for not just her, but everyone, to believe in Myrionar. “It has already fulfilled much of Its promise to me,” she would say, “and I now know that It will somehow fulfill the rest of it, so long as I stay true. And I know It will bless us all if we can all find it in our hearts to keep our faith in the Balanced Sword.”

“I think… yes, I think they are,” she said finally. “Oh, I’m always going to be nervous that leaving will trigger some catastrophe, but waiting forever will be worse. There’s only…”

Somehow he caught on, perhaps from seeing her glance around the room. “Oh, that’s right. Your aunt isn’t here and so there won’t be anyone guarding the family home.”

“Is that silly of me? I mean, it’s not like the house will fall apart, Vanstell will—”

“It’s not silly at all,” Poplock said emphatically from somewhere near the cheese wheels. She saw him pop up from behind one, chewing on a berry. “The Vantages are a symbol to your people. Even if you aren’t here, this place is going to be a symbol, and someone might decide that burning that symbol down, like they did your parent’s house, would be a great statement of how weak you and your god are. Someone being the false Justiciars, or their boss.” He made a comical face. “Well, okay, hard to BURN this place down since it’s mostly stone, but you get the idea.”

She wished she could argue that, but she couldn’t. Vantage Fortress was a symbol, hundreds, maybe thousands of years old, and if their enemies wrecked it after she left…

She toyed with the seasoned steak in front of her. “You’re right, of course. But I can’t stay here forever. Your mission and mine… time’s not standing still, and we know what’s happening elsewhere. But I need someone who will be able to keep Vantage Fortress… alive, I guess, even if they’re not a Vantage. Vanstell –”

Vanstell shook his head and smiled. “My Lady, I am – with no false modesty – an excellent Master of House, and I have been proud to serve you and your family in that capacity for the last twenty-two years. But I am, regrettably, not a person with the dynamic and powerful presence you would need.”

Kyri smiled fondly at him. “I was about to say something of the sort, because I know what you like to do, and if you wanted to be that kind of person, we’d already know it. But then… who? Or do I leave anyway?”

“You may have to,” Tobimar said with obvious reluctance. “Believe me, I understand your concern – in your position I’d share it – but as you said, the world isn’t waiting for us.”

“Perhaps I might offer a solution,” said an impossibly familiar voice from the doorway.

Almost without realizing it, Kyri found herself standing, staring in simultaneous disbelief and joy.

Tall, angular, straight of figure, impassive of expression, Lythos, her invincible, imperturbable Master of Arms, stood framed in the doorway.

And then the Sho-Ka-Taida collapsed to his knees.

“Lythos!”

 

 

 

 

 

Phoenix in Shadow: Chapter 2

 

And now that the preliminaries are out of the way, let’s get to our main characters!

 

 

——

 

 

Chapter 2.

“Down!” Kyri shouted.

Tobimar reacted just in time; the huge serpent’s venom sprayed above his head, striking the grass and bushes behind them, almost instantly turning them gray and brittle. “Terian and Chromaias!”

If that struck him, he could be killed! Not that getting hit by the thing’s immense teeth or caught by coils the thickness of a strong man’s thigh would be any better, but the virulence of the poison stunned her.

Also somewhat stunning was the pain in her heart at the thought of Tobimar dying. She was aware that this was something she should think about, should understand – but this was not the time.

The green-black monster’s head swayed back uncannily fast, evading Flamewing’s strike, then lunged forward; its teeth, in turn, rebounded from the Raiment of the Phoenix, and drops of venom dribbled harmlessly down and away. Still, the impact sent her tumbling away, a shock of pain echoing through her frame. It’s even stronger than I thought. And I thought a fifty-foot snake would be awfully strong.

Tobimar took a twin cut at the creature, distracting it from Kyri momentarily, but the monster’s scales rippled and deflected most of the force of the blow; what should have been crippling wounds became mere scratches. It slewed around and sprayed more venom at him, but the Skysand Prince anticipated the move and leapt over the downward-slanting spray.

Then the gray, dead bush reached out and grasped Tobimar.

Kyri charged forward, even as part of her stared in disbelief. The bush became its servant upon death? What monstrous thing is this?

The monster was forced to turn away from Tobimar at the last moment or have Flamewing’s blazing blade take its head, but now Tobimar was struggling in earnest. The hideous corruption in Rivendream Pass is worse than I imagined. I never thought of anything such as this. Poplock, where are you?

“Come forth, Son of Fire, and consume our enemies!” shouted a voice from somewhere in the greenery.

A glittering little red crystal flew out and shattered, expanding into a low, squat, four-legged sinuous form that was formed of pure white flame. “Ssssooo it sssshall be,” it hissed, a voice of water striking white-hot steel, and lunged at the huge serpent.

Astonishingly, the monster’s scales were at least partially proof against fire as well, for though it let loose a steamkettle whistle of pain and rage at the salamander’s attack, it did not appear terribly burned.

But it had reflexively turned towards the source of pain, and that gave Kyri the opening she had sought. Flamewing streaked out and around, a meteor and lightning bolt in one, and with a terrific impact the titanic greatsword sheared clean through the serpent. She leapt back to clear the thing’s death-throes, and the salamander scrambled up and down the twisting coils, directing its flames and reducing the corpse to ash. It then bobbed in her direction and in the direction of the voice from the bushes, and vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Well, drought, Kyri!” the little toad said plaintively as he emerged from the bushes. “If I’d known you were going to kill it that fast I might have saved him for another time.”

She shook her head with a grin. “It was that distraction that permitted the blow, o most cautious of Toads.” She looked to Tobimar, who was now standing; the gray bush had fallen apart once its master was slain. “Are you all right, Tobimar?”

“Not… entirely.”

She saw grayish trails across his cheeks and hands; fortunately the thing’s tendrils had not reached the eyes. “Hold still.”

She called upon Myrionar’s power as she touched her friend. The power came, golden light that erased gray, eased pain, restored strength and health.

But she felt resistance this time – both from the dead grayness, a pushing and denial that tried to shunt the power of the God of Justice and Vengeance away, prevent it from touching the parts of Tobimar it had claimed, and from outside, as thought Myrionar were more distant. She set her jaw and drove her will against the grayness, and it shattered, passing into darkness like that which she sensed all around, and then dispersing.

The strain on her face did not escape Tobimar’s observation; one of his greatest talents was to see that which others hid, she’d noticed. “That was harder than usual, I see.”

She straightened and nodded, looking around warily. “Yes. We were warned it would be.”

She remembered how they’d finally decided it was time… A bright day, a good day, a day when things seemed right…

 

 

Polychrome: Second Vision and Chapter 27

 

A second glimpse at an important viewpoint, and Erik arrives at his destination:

 

——

 

 

Second Vision:

     Agony of boiling light, cruel radiance tearing her slowly apart, pieces of her own self taken away, forged with hammers of blazing selfish will and cruel luminant ambition.

But the tiny comfort of the point of darkness remained, and she clung to that. Over days and weeks and untold passage of time, when her eyes and soul felt tormented beyond endurance, she could seek it out, so small, but still there, the one still and solid hope in all the light of the terrible world of ceaseless burning cold mystic fire.

Sometimes – for a moment or an eternity – she thought she saw something else, a flicker of different light, almost familiar, not terrible or destroying but laughing, and it danced around the dark point, then away, as though it did not know why it was drawn to the darkness and fled, heedless, to the realms of killing brightness that lay hidden behind all.

She could scream, but there were none to hear, save those who might be taking the strength from her, and they would not care.

And then, one day, like all other infinite days, but it was not. For on that day, when she awakened from the unsleeping rest she found within the unending baking light of all deserts distilled, she opened her never-closed eyes, and looked, and the darkness was no longer a point, but something else, a shape she could not see, but closer, and she knew and laughed, a laugh soundless and tired and agonized, but a laugh.

For Hope now walked towards her, and a Mortal had set foot on Faerie.

 

Chapter 27.

     I couldn’t help but grin as Pearl of Gilgad pulled up to the docks of Pingaree. In some ways it was exactly as I had pictured it; in others, it was far better.

The pearl-fishing kingdom lay on an island, but one considerably larger and grander than Baum had depicted. Still, it was mostly low, with a sea of green palm trees running to the edge of brilliant white sand beaches, surrounded by a magnificent reef breached only in three places, where three small, swift rivers ran down to the sea. Dozens of ships and boats, ranging from sleek little rowboats or sailboats to dual-hulled catamarans and many others, were moored at the docks, or casting off for another voyage even as we entered.

The major difference was one I’d always suspected – and, in fact, was one of the few areas I’d envisioned differently even when I was a very young man. Despite O’Neill’s illustrations, the description of Pingaree, its tropical climate, the primary occupation of its people, and its surrounding countries had led me to expect what I now saw; a civilization of more Polynesian than European style, with dark-haired, dark-skinned people vastly predominating.

But this was no simple desert island paradise; I could see on a rise a mile and a half from the port a great marble palace, somehow combining many architectural styles from around my old world without seeming a hodgepodge. The city before me wasn’t a collection of palm-roofed huts, but proud houses of light stonework, open courtyards, white stone streets running straight and true through the city. Gilgad had been impressive, but I wasn’t sure if Pindaras (the name of the capital city of Pingaree) wasn’t even more so.

The Pearl had of course been recognized far out at sea, and so I accompanied Inkarbleu and his party as they were immediately escorted to the Palace. My odd armor, light skin, and blond hair naturally drew notice, but mostly they seemed to accept me as just a member of Inkarbleu’s guard.

Pearls were everywhere in evidence, even in the ornamentation of the houses and on all the people, young and old. In truth pearls were what brought me here – three Pearls in particular, gifted to the rulers of Pingaree by the Sea Fairies: the Pearl of Strength, the Pearl of Protection, and the Pearl of Wisdom. If I had interpreted the Prophecy correctly…

Our party was led through the main gates and straight into the castle. I heard both the tinkling of many fountains and, as we continued, an increasing background of music and many people talking. A set of immense double-doors, appearing to be marble-faced with steel interiors, were thrown open before us. “Lord Inkarbleu and party!” our escorts announced.

Inside was a huge, long table, with room for well over a hundred guests; most of the spaces were in fact full, and we had quite an audience for our entrance. Musicians spaced around the polished white and black hall paused as we walked forward.

At the far end, I could see seven very distinct figures, sitting at a raised section of the long table. A slender old man, white hair contrasting splendidly with dark-teak skin, sat next to an equally old woman; both had slender circlets of gold on their heads. Similar circlets of gold adorned the heads of two much younger people, a girl and a boy seated opposite each other. Both were dark-haired and dark of skin, the girl appearing to be about seventeen or eighteen, possibly taller than anyone else at the table – about six feet, I’d guess, though she was sitting down – while the boy was tiny.

They sat to the right and left hand of the pair of seats at the very head of the table, which were occupied by a tall, handsome man with black hair, wearing a larger crown; next to him was a beautiful woman of the same age but with lighter skin, almost an Italian cast to her face.

Seated across from the older couple in a chair so wide both of them could have easily fit in it at once, was an immense man, not terribly short and very much terribly wide, with a great bushy mane of white hair, rosy cheeks and a red nose, who was apparently in the midst of an animated conversation with the others when we had so rudely interrupted.

The latter heaved himself to his feet and glared down the table at us. “INKARBLEU!” he bellowed, in a voice both deep and resonant and with higher overtones that helped it cut across all other speech. “Inkarbleu, you faithless dried-up scurvy dog of a Chancellor, have you deserted your post again? What have I told you about that? Eh?”

“That I will be executed for such flagrant and terrible abandonment of my post, Your Highness,” Inkarbleu replied with equanimity. “But I hope perhaps you will forgive me, or at least wait to carry out my execution until such time as your Highness has finished your dinner.”

King Rin Ki-Tin dropped back into his chair, threw back his head, and gave vent to a long series of laughs. “Ho, ho, ho, hee-hee-hee! When I am… Ha, ha… finished with my dinner! Ahhh, ha! Ha! Finished! With my dinner!” He laughed longer. “Seeking a stay of execution… ha, ha, heeee! … a stay of execution long enough to outlive me, I see! Finished with my dinner? I am never finished with my dinner until it is finished with me, and eventually it’s become breakfast, I think!”

“King Rin Ki-Tin,” the tall man at the far end said, with a fond smile on his face, “Perhaps we should let the doomed Inkarbleu at least tell us what dire errand has brought him here.”

“Oh, indeed, indeed. No executions at dinner, I agree!” the fat King said cheerfully. “Inkarbleu! Justify your conduct, then, to my good friend King Inga!”

I thought so. King Inga. I guess Kitticut retired and handed his son the throne. Which would make the woman with him Zella, I’d bet, if the subtext I got was right.

“A matter of deep policy, Your Majesty.” Inkarbleu said. “And one best discussed in more privacy.”

The look Rin Ki-Tin shot Inkarbleu was sharp and shrewd, greatly at variance with his clownish exterior, and the way his gaze shifted to me showed he might have already guessed some of the essence of my mission. “Policy is so tiring. You know, I believe I once made a song about –” he broke off at a glance from Inga, “—but enough for now. Ah, well, I suppose we could retire to the inner chambers long enough for the extra dishes to be tidied up and the next course laid.”

He moved with surprising ease for a man so fat and old, following King Inga who gestured for us to follow; the tall girl started to rise, but a glance from the King – her father, I guessed – dropped her back into her seat. Inkarbleu motioned for me to accompany him but left the rest of our entourage behind.

The next room would have looked quite large had we not just come from the immense dining hall. King Inga, Queen Zella (if my guess was right), and King Rin Ki-Tin seated themselves on one side of a wide conference table and indicated that we should sit as well. I see. The former King and Queen will remain with the festivities.

Inga turned immediately to me and bowed. “Sir, it is clear that faithful Inkarbleu has risked much to bring you here. I am King Inga, and this is my Queen, Zella. You now have the advantage of us.”

“Erik Medon,” I said, returning the bow.

“An emissary of Iris Mirabilis himself,” Inkarbleu finished.

All trace of the clown vanished as Rin Ki-tin sat up. “Now indeed I forgive you, Inkarbleu. Though undoubtedly I shall threaten you with execution later, just for form’s sake. Deep policy and dangerous, dangerous. So the Rainbow Lord moves at last, does he? HA!” The jolly face was, for a moment, transformed to grim savagery. “Long have I thought my days would end before that day came; you have already brought me great joy, just to hear that hope has not abandoned us.”

“Rin Ki-Tin speaks of hope,” Zella said cautiously, “but we know well the power of our adversaries. What hope is there, truly, Erik Medon?”

I turned to her. “Enough. A prophecy from a source well-trusted by the Rainbow Lord. I may not look precisely as a hero of legend, but I have… certain advantages over others.”

At this range, I could see that the royalty of Pingaree wore – as one might expect – many jewels, especially pearls of all sizes and colors. The King himself wore two earrings with magnificent matched pure-white pearls of extraordinary size. Now, I saw him tilt his head slightly, as though listening to something. He nodded his head and sat a bit straighter. “A True Mortal?”

Excellent. “You see clearly, King Inga.”

“So what can Gilgad do for the Rainbow Lord and yourself?” Rin Ki-Tin demanded.

I grinned. “Already done, and cleverly by your Lord Inkarbleu. What I really needed was to get here. What he needed was to do that without actually committing Gilgad to such a radical cause.” Quickly I explained Inkarbleu’s decision.

The three monarchs looked at Inkarbleu with such approval I saw a faint blush on the old cheeks. “So clever a statesman should have been King himself.” Rin Ki-Tin said, with a gentle laugh.

“Such a clever statesman knows far better than to want the post, Your Majesty,” Inkarbleu responded, garnering a gale of laughter from his ruler.

“Hooo, hooo, hoo! Too true, too true! As I know, from trying in my manful way to flee from the dread and terrible responsibilities.”

Ignoring the byplay with the same fond smile, Inga leaned forward. “So it was to Pingaree you wished to come. What do you seek here? We have no formidable army, in truth, and while something of a naval force we have acquired, that would do you no good against the Usurpers of Oz.”

“Nothing so obvious or direct, your Majesty,” I said. “Here, I seek only two things – besides of course a trip back to the mainland. First, I need your people to build me a ship, a boat of a very particular design. Nothing too terribly large,” I hastened to assure him, “indeed, just something suitable for a long journey for one person. And to have it transported to a particular spot.”

“And that is all?”

“Well, no, that was really one thing – I mean, getting the ship won’t do me any good if I can’t use it where I want to. The second thing I seek… is the wisdom of Pingaree.”

The King and Queen both straightened and looked sharply at me – as did King Rin Ki-Tin. “How exactly do you mean that?” the King of Pingaree said finally.

I grinned.

Inga looked at me for a moment, and then stood. “Excuse me for a moment.” He stepped to the side and through a door which, it appeared, led to a small side alcove.

Zella studied me curiously. “Do you know what you are asking?”

“I think I know exactly what I am asking.”

The door opened again and King Inga resumed his seat. He reached up and – as I had expected – removed the righthand earring. Not without reluctance, he placed the earring with its magnificent white pearl into my hand. “If wisdom there be in Pingaree, you now hold it in your hand,” he said slowly. “No other has ever carried that which I give to you, save only those of my family.”

The Pearl of Wisdom. “I know of this… and I can guess how difficult my request is for you.” I raised the Pearl to my ear. “You advised him to offer yourself to me, didn’t you?”

From the Pearl came a clear, though distant, voice. “You are correct, Erik Medon.”

I grinned, and then tossed the Pearl back. Inga was so startled he almost failed to catch it. “What…?”

“King Inga, these are perilous times indeed. I will not deprive you of what is undoubtedly your greatest resource, especially when – if I fail – you will need wisdom more desperately than ever. I only have a couple questions to ask the Pearl, and that is all.”

The relief on his face, and that of Queen Zella, matched his surprise. “You are a man of some depth, I see,” Inga said after a moment, with a smile. “Ask, then.”

I had thought about this for quite a while. Really what I needed here was validation. I had thought everything I could through, but there was so much I might not know. I couldn’t ask for things of too great detail – that pesky question of over-working the prophecy and making it backfire on me was always looming above me.

“Pearl,” I said, “First, tell me: are my guesses about … a certain individual… correct?”

Inga listened, then nodded. “The Pearl says ‘yes’.”

Good. “Then… The course of action I have planned… is it a good one?”

“Yes.”

I sagged back in my seat. “Then that’s all I needed. That plus the boat, which I’ll sketch out tomorrow.”

King Inga looked at me with a curious expression. “So… you needed only verification of a particular course of action and this boat? You need nothing more from Pingaree?”

“Nothing.” I said. Well, nothing I could ask.

“And you will travel alone… where?”

“After I get back to the mainland? Well, eventually to Oz, of course… but the Nome King’s domain is my next destination.”

For a moment, everyone was silent. Finally, Rin Ki-Tin said, gently, yet with a puzzled air, “Lord Medon… You do realize that the Nome King will help no one, even for the Rainbow Lord?”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “Yet I have no choice. There is no other force sufficient to even have a credible chance against what Ugu and Amanita have to throw at us. Combined with the Rainbow Kingdom’s, it might be enough.” I can’t tell them the whole thing. Partly because the whole thing, in the end, comes down to a big throw of the dice, and whether I’m tough enough to survive the pain and take action at just the right time.

“And do you have… any plan to find the Nome King, let alone convince him to involve himself in this war?”

I grinned. “Oh yes. And that’s what I was asking your Pearl.”

“If the Pearl says it will work, then it’ll work!” a new voice broke in. “So, Father, I’m going with him!”

I turned, startled.

The tall girl from the end of the table stood in the doorway, grinning confidently at us all.

King Inga glared at her. “Zenga, have you been eavesdropping?”

“You said I should take more interest in the running of the kingdom, Father.”

“Not by spying on secret councils!” Inga sighed. “You have no idea what you are saying, anyway. You are far too young to be getting involved in –”

“You were younger than I am when you saved Pingaree, liberated Regos and Coregos, and faced the Nome King yourself!”

“That was entirely –” Inga broke off. I was working very hard to keep a smile off my face, because I was pretty sure grinning at a royal family spat would be very impolitic. “No. I will not play this debate game with you, Zenga.”

Queen Zella spoke up. “Let her go.”

Inga stared at his wife. “I beg your pardon, my love – did I just hear you correctly?”

“Let her go with him.” She rose smoothly and bowed to us. “But this is a discussion for more privacy. My lords – dear Rin Ki-Tin, Inkarbleu, and Lord Medon – please, return to the dining hall. The King of Gilgad never refuses a meal, and I am sure that after weeks at sea both of you would be pleased with a feast. We shall resolve this discussion anon.”

I bowed back. “Of course, Queen Zella.”

We filed out of the conference room and returned to the dining hall, where two seats were placed for us near King Rin Ki-Tin. Inkarbleu glanced at me, shaking his head with a smile. “An interesting development, that. How do you think it will go… and will you take her with you, if that is the decision?”

“I,” I said, reaching out and grabbing a piece of bread, “have gotten about as far ahead of myself as I want to right now, so I’ll leave that decision for when it happens.”

Inwardly, I grinned. I admit I didn’t exactly foresee these details… but even so… all that has transpired here has done so according to my design.

 

 

 

 

Phoenix in Shadow: Chapter 1

 

And before we get back to our main heroes, we need to look in on a more conflicted adversary…

 

——

 

 

Chapter 1.

     Aran felt cold, cold inside, so cold that he was able to ignore his fear entirely. There is nothing to fear here, not now. For what I want and what It wants, they must be the same now.

 

     Even so, he had to steel himself to knock at the great stone and metal portal which was the Hall of Balance, the innermost area of the Justiciar’s Retreat… and the chosen quarters of their leader. He remembered the last time he had entered there, practically dragged by Shrike…

 

“Enter, Condor.”

 

The voice sent a new bolt of fear through Condor’s heart. I’d expected Thornfalcon. Expected that I’d have to argue with him to reach… It.

 

But in a way, this was better. He had no idea why Thornfalcon’s patron would be here now, and even less as to why Thornfalcon would not be present, but at least now there would be no impediments to his purpose. He shoved the fear away, replaced it with the cold-burning rage, and entered.

 

The room was dimly lit, as it nearly always was. Part of him wanted to believe it was because the creature feared light, but he’d watched It in the sunlight far too many times. “You must know by now.”

 

It raised an entirely human-looking eyebrow over a pure-blue eye. “How bold a beginning; not even a hint of the courtesies. But yes, I know, Condor; Shrike has fallen. A terrible loss for you.” The last words carried an almost sincere note of sympathy, that nearness to human feeling making it even more jarring.

 

He gritted his teeth. I cannot get into a duel of words with It. It will enrage me if It so pleases, and then humiliate me, and I will still need to ask this of It. “I apologize for my failure in diplomacy; I am empty of thanks or courtesy this day, for he was my father in all but blood.”

 

“Of course.” There was little irony in the voice now. “And I will tolerate … for the moment … a certain amount of personal clumsiness, Condor. But you did not come here to speak of the dead, I think, but of the living.”

 

He knows, or guesses. Of course. Aran, the Condor, laughed suddenly. “Yes. Of those living who must soon die. This… this Phoenix,” he spat the name out as though it burned his tongue, “killed Shrike, left his body lying in the woods, didn’t even burn it or bury it, like you’d leave some animal in the woods, no ceremony, nothing.” Even as he said it, he heard his voice rising, and suddenly felt no inclination to restrain himself. “Well, I’ll do the same to him!”

 

“Or her,” the other responded with maddening equanimity. “And really, why the rage? You know perfectly well that in all likelihood this is the TRUE Justiciar of Myrionar. You’re the traitors and monsters. Didn’t you say something like that… perhaps even here in this room?”

 

“Do not patronize me, monster! I’m beyond fear of anyone, even you!”

 

Its eyes narrowed, and the blue was like frozen sea. “Have a care, Condor.”

 

“I have no care at all, for all that I had left to care for – once you and Shrike had done with me – is gone. I will at the least follow, for once, the true path of my name, for I want vengeance.”

 

It raised an eyebrow. “As do we all, in our own way. I have hardly barred you – any of you – from hunting down this Phoenix. Indeed, I urge you all to the hunt frequently, and have begun… my own little investigations as well.”

 

“NO!”

 

Actual surprise showed in the falsely-human eyes when it found Skyvault at its throat, and Condor continued. “I don’t want you involved at all! Phoenix is mine!”

 

It stood still, studying him.

 

“But I’m not stupid. This Phoenix killed Mist Owl, killed… killed my sirza.”

 

“And Thornfalcon, but hours agone,” the creature said, its voice unaffected by the threat of the blade.

 

Aran paused in his rage, momentary shock forcing him to re-evaluate the situation. He knew – none better – just what a monster Thornfalcon had been.

 

But this just reinforced his current point. “So, he killed your favorite, too. Phoenix broke Shrike’s axe, carved up one… no, two other Raiments now. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

 

It reached up and gently pushed the blade down with irresistable force. “Interesting. If I choose not to take your soul for daring to draw sword on me, what then is it you want?”

 

“You know perfectly well. I want power to match Phoenix’s, to OUTmatch anything that Myrionar can give its last servant. I want to face Phoenix down, myself, and kill him or her and spit on their grave. I want to rip out their guts and let them die slowly and rot on some forgotten hillside the way Phoenix would have let my father rot.” He had to force the words out through tears and a snarl of gritted teeth.

 

Their leader suddenly burst out in laughter, a sound so warm and human that Aran shuddered despite his rage and determination. No wonder that no one suspects a thing.

 

“And you think I can give you that power, Condor? Do you realize what Thornfalcon was? That I had already given him much power the rest of you lacked, and still he was finished – and rather handily too, or so it would seem – by this Phoenix?” It was smiling in a way that sent shivers down his spine, and a distant part of him was screaming that he should back down, change his mind, run. But in the front of his mind he saw a beloved face in a death grimace, black-caked blood around a shattered piece of metal, and flies hovering for the feast.

 

“If you can’t, then you are finished too, because the Phoenix will find this place – and you – eventually, even if they don’t catch you outside when you’re fooling the rest of the world! You’ve openly mocked the Balanced Sword enough – are you going to back down? Tell me that Myrionar is, after all, more powerful than us, and we’re all doomed?”

 

For a moment it regarded him, still with that gentle smile that seemed to imply terror beyond imagining. “No… no, I would not say that. Myrionar’s power is vastly diminished, for in these centuries at my work it has been eroded, slowly, surely, but nigh-completely. This is a final desperation move, the only one left to a deity in Myrionar’s position. But just as a cornered animal, even wounded, can be surprisingly dangerous, so it is with a near-ended god. All they have left will be devoted to this final Champion. I have many things to devote my own attention to, for – as you learned some time ago – this is but one small part of the grand design. I have such power, perhaps, but I cannot give it to you – especially since, alas, I have seen you are less than dedicated to our ideals, unlike Thornfalcon.”

 

Condor wanted to lash out again at the urbanely-smiling mask in front of him, but he knew that would end any hope of revenge by ending his life. “So you’re saying there’s nothing you can do?”

 

“I am afraid…” it stopped, tilted its head, and the smile suddenly widened. “Perhaps. Perhaps there is. Not something that I can do, no, but…”

 

“What… what do you mean?”

 

The figure turned slowly and considered the polished mirror-scroll set on the desk at the center of the room, and Condor felt as though his guts were going to freeze. It looked back at him with that same smile. “Normally I would not call… but it is true that this Phoenix could be a significant hindrance to our cause, given time. HE has the power you seek, do not doubt it.”

 

“But…” He shuddered, but shook his head. “He has the power, but how could he give it to me?”

 

“We can but ask.” Before Aran could object, the human-seeming figure passed a hand over the mirror. “Great Kerlamion, your servant begs your attention.”

 

The shining surface blackened, became a room of darkness with something darker than any darkness seated upon a throne, the only light from eyes of screaming blue-white. “Viedraverion.” The eyes shifted. “Why is this one before us again?”

 

“A … small problem has emerged in Evanwyl, oh Blackstar.”

 

The eyes narrowed. “You begin with circumlocutions we expect from others such as Balgoltha. Do not follow that path, for we have no patience for it, even for one with such a record as your own.”

 

Viedraverion – if that is its real name – shrugged and smiled. “You are of course right, King of Demons. As I had expected, the Balanced Sword is forced to make its final move, and has produced a true Champion. Now, while I believe I can maintain all as we desire it, this is certainly a crisis of minor but perhaps significant import.”

 

The barely-visible head of blackness nodded. “Go on.”

 

“I have many other duties you wish me to attend to, of course. There are so many … details involved across the world.” He gestured to Condor, who flinched as the alien, deadly gaze turned back to him. “The champion, called Phoenix, has slain three of my false Justiciars. One of them was, in essence, the father of Condor.” It smiled more broadly. “We can, of course, appreciate the strong bond between father and son.”

 

The laugh from Kerlamion Blackstar was the sound of the very rending of air, and the smile a blue-white void of pain, and Condor very nearly did run then. “In our own way, yes, we can.” It leaned forward, and though the mirror-scroll did not change at all, Condor felt as though something immense was looming over him. “And so from us you seek the power to avenge yourself, to counter the final throw of a failing god? Answer us!”

 

Condor swallowed. “Y… yes, mighty Kerlamion.” I am already damned, my soul must already be his as a false Justiciar. “Something that will give me the strength to face the Phoenix, to shatter his or her power, their new-forged Raiment, break their sword and… and tear their soul apart.” If my sirza will find no rest in the afterlife, no more will Phoenix, no salvation by Myrionar or by its allies in death.

 

“And this is the one who thought to abandon us, that was drawn by the Light?” Kerlamion spoke to its servant.

 

“Even so. By a noble and courageous girl, even.” It smiled.

 

Kerlamion chuckled again. “Then we are pleased, and we see that, though you tremble, Condor, you stand firm. Veidraverion sees that the time is nigh, and he is right. Come, then, to us, and we shall give to you the power you desire.” The mirror went blank.

 

Elation warred with terror and confusion. “I… thank you, mighty King…” But there is no way to Kerlamion’s Throne that the living and human can travel!

 

“Fear not, Aran,” their leader said, with a smile even more chilling, and answered the unspoken words with a darker mystery. “You shall walk there on your own living feet, and stand alive before the Throne of All Hells itself.”

 

 

 

 

Phoenix in Shadow: Prologue

Now we begin the sequel to Phoenix Rising, Phoenix in Shadow, second in the Balanced Sword trilogy!

And we start with a look at the real bad guy in the whole trilogy…

 

——

 

 

Prologue.

     This is… most interesting.

 

It surveyed the clearing, smoke still drifting from multiple scattered fires which had – mostly – died out by now, dozens of bodies of monstrous, twisted… things lying everywhere, and a huge scar of blackened earth that stretched from an underground opening to fan out all the way to the edge of the clearing; ash, dust, and blood coated everything black, gray, and red-brown, shocking againt the vibrant green of the jungle. It appears I have arrived rather late for the party. What a shame.

 

It … well, sniffed would have been an appropriate term, but while it did think of the perceptions it gained as scents, they were not; the senses it extended were far beyond those of ordinary creatures, born of its essence and power, and not limited to the physical. A mighty battle indeed, and much more than I would have expected…

 

In all honesty it had expected that – when the conflict came – one of two things would happen; either Thornfalcon would kill the Phoenix, or the new-minted Justiciar would somehow overcome Thornfalcon. If the latter, well, then his expectations would be fully met. But it had thought this confrontation still a bit in the future, and its arrival here was purely fortuitous – a morning conference with its most useful acolyte to make some further arrangements… which, it seemed, would no longer be necessary. So let us see what really occurred.

 

As the senses of magic and power, tracery of traces of past conflict, began to impress itself upon the being’s consciousness, it raised one eyebrow. Oh, now, not nearly so simple as I thought. No, not at all.

 

There certainly was godscent here – it knew the particular tang of Myrionar well. Of necessity, it thought with a smile, for it is rather hard to fool others with a counterfeit unless one truly understands the original. But there were a myriad of other scents. Alchemical concoctions and materials had been used with abandon, and it was impossible – with the god-fire’s interference – to tell if it had all been Thornfalcon’s work, or someone else’s. Other types of magic… and was that another god-scent? It frowned. No, it’s possibly more than one. Or a mixture, magic and god-power. Not familiar directly… but there is a touch of the Mortal God about it that I do not like at all.

 

While it did not – precisely – fear any of the gods, there were those it was very wise to take extremely seriously. The Greatest Dragons, certainly, Chromaias and the Four… but of them all, perhaps the most to be feared by those – like itself – which walked the darkest paths was Terian, the Nemesis of Evil, Light in the Darkness, the Mortal God, the Infinite. Yet it is not the touch of a priest or a god-warrior. Something else, and that is intriguing indeed.

 

Finally it found one of the things it was looking for; Thornfalcon’s body, headless and now burned almost beyond recognition. Now, let us see… It frowned. Scarce anything remains. I can barely sense his soul now. It desperately clings to the remains still, which is why I sensed not his defeat before I came… but it is nigh-obliterated.

 

Reaching out, it drew in what remained, or tried to. But even the effort of pulling in the traces caused them to fade, shatter, just as touching the ashes caused them to collapse into shapelessness, losing whatever they had kept of their shape in life.

 

It smiled with an edge of apology. I had promised you power, Thornfalcon, and of your people you had shown much promise… and begun to learn true mastery. I am surprised your life has truly ended. This should not have happened.

 

One – or more, it corrected itself – of the weapons used upon Thornfalcon must have been made in such a fashion as to break even the most unique changes that the being had made to Thornfalcon’s essence, to shatter that particular soul-hungry pattern and make it impotent. Were it otherwise, Thornfalcon would rise again, though it might have taken time. I would do well to remember this myself, for when the time comes.

 

This did leave another problem, in that it could not simply ask Thornfalcon what had happened, what he had learned in that final and titanic conflict. Must do this the harder way; depending on what the Phoenix learned, and how he, or she, chooses to act, I may be on a rather limited timetable now!

 

It extended its senses farther, to make sure there were no witnesses. I do not want interruptions now; there are things that would need explanation. Fortunately he had come here early in the morning and Thornfalcon’s little estate was set at a distance from other residences, but there would be gawkers, or more purposeful visitors, soon enough.

 

I can see that someone took Thornfalcon’s head. Single cut, very clean, large blade. Definitely this “Phoenix” as described.

 

     But were you fighting him alone, avenging Justiciar of Myrionar? True, you have killed two others, and it smiled to think of what would come of that second killing, one it had sensed only a short time before, but Thornfalcon was undoubtedly much more challenging an opponent, and I did not read your prior battles as ones in which you had no difficulty. No, you had help, I think.

 

It shifted form to one more comfortable for careful inspection of the perimeter. It was at the edge of the clearing that traces would remain of those who had come in… or left. It took some time, but finally it found what it sought: a faint set of marks and tracks leading away, into the jungle.

 

Two sets of feet.. no, three… left here. And, it would appear, at very much the same time. Yes, my little Phoenix, you have acquired friends… and here, I have your scent.

 

It laughed aloud suddenly, a sound that was more tearing metal and shattering bone than human amusement. Kyri Victoria Vantage! A perfect symmetry, and oh, it makes so very much sense of all things. Yes, an excellent choice, Myrionar, a well-played choice of your final piece in our game.

 

The creature could now understand the exact way in which the prior Justiciars had died; they had been undone by their own sentiments, slowed or confused by the child they had known all their lives confronting them with their crimes. Mist Owl would have allowed his death as a sort of futile penance, while Shrike… It smiled. Shrike would have become emotional and desperate for another reason.

 

However, Thornfalcon… The figure shook its head. Thornfalcon would not have been so affected. He did have other interests which might have led him astray, but that of pure sentiment, no. She would have needed help, indeed.

 

It considered the scents of the companions. Both young men, yes. Of a similar age, it would seem. The first… there is a general familiarity about it, but the individual is unknown. But it has been a long time since I scented this particular… could it be?

 

It moved along the trail, finding that the three were traveling in a nearly straight line, and very purposefully… Towards the capital, I think. Yes. Interesting. That may make things difficult… but I must learn more before I act.

 

It retraced its steps, looking for additional clues that it might have missed. Why is there a hint of the Mortal God on this one? There was no immediate answer, though the faint scent taunted him maddeningly. Never mind. Let us examine the third.

 

The third young man… Now that is most interesting. There is a scent with him of… plastics. Electronics. By my Power, this boy must be from the other world!

 

Something about that bothered him. After a moment, he recalled what that was. Zarathanton… the five young people who had been, as they might have said, “framed” for the assassination of the Sauran King… his agent had been emphatic that they claimed to come from Earth. It would be ludicrous to suppose that another such traveller could have come so soon, so this must be one of those five – one who has either escaped the inescapable, or been released.

 

There was also some other energy, a sense, that sent a tingle of warning and anticipation throught the creature. Traces of something ancient, ancient indeed. Yet I cannot quite make it out.

 

But that was not all. There was another trace of presence, another spirit-scent… And this, too, something hinting of the familiar. It allowed itself another good-natured internal complaint about the limitations it was currently saddled with. Necessary for the way things must be done, yes, but there are times I am tempted…

 

Too many feet – humanoid and otherwise – had trampled these grounds in that combat, especially in that endgame against a tide of unnatural monstrosities. And that was very well-done, Thornfalcon. I have a suspicion as to the source of these things, but for you to have found it, been able to make the appropriate bargains… it truly is a shame you are dead. It quickened its pace, criss-crossing the entire clearing, walking, sensing, sniffing…

 

A very faint scent caught at its senses now, and it glanced around and down, found itself looking at a tiny thing that glittered on the ground. Changing shape back to human, it reached down and gingerly picked up the little metal shaft. Pointed. Notched at the other end. It sniffed carefully. Alchemical bolt. But how tiny. Now what could…

 

For a moment it was no longer smiling. Now that is too far for coincidence; first the child of Zaralandar finds his way here and is working with the last Justiciar, and now this? From the center of the Great Forest to here? With the Phoenix and whoever these others are? Voorith had no visible connections here, so what would have led this one hence?

 

Its eyes narrowed and it looked around, suspicious. And if that is the case, other aspects of the plan may be in more danger than it appears. It sniffed again at the ground, and now, with its senses fully alerted, it caught the faintest hint, a chime and a flicker in the background.

 

That it recognized instantly, and it grinned savagely, realizing that all of their plans were in more jeopardy than it had imagined… and it was glad of it, in truth. My oldest mortal enemy… is it truly you again, Khoros? Have you dared to try your hand once more? I must discover if it is so!

 

It was even more glad, now, that its true goals were still buried layers deep, hidden behind the dozen other plots in which it was involved. Kerlamion, o King, your plans proceeed apace… yet they may be doomed to failure.

 

As might be true of the other three branches of the conspiracy. It nodded. I must find a way to have this possible connection discovered, brought to their attention. It would not do to make it easy on our adversaries, yet the King of Demons and our other … allies do not have any need to know how I have learned these things.

 

It glanced up at the sky. Time to leave; I have learned what I could here.

 

More importantly, it guessed what the Phoenix was about to do, and if it was right, there was little to be done to stop her now. However, if it moved very swiftly, it should be able to arrive at Justiciar’s Retreat just ahead of someone else who must be even now approaching.. That should be very entertaining… and useful, if his performance is as expected.

 

It strode into the jungle, chuckling, shape becoming something swift and terrible, arrowing towards the once-holy sanctum.

 

 

 

 

Polychrome: Chapter 26

Well, we should look in on what our villains are up to…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 26.

     Ugu found Queen Amanita in the Third Garden, one of the few spots of green in the Gray Capital. She was apparently experimenting with transformations, morphing a butterfly into a sort of winged centipede with a dozen sets of brilliant wings, then into a bird with butterfly wings, and other variations on flying pretty creatures. She has an excellent eye and appreciation for beauty, but her art is as cold as her smile, alas.

As he waited for her to acknowledge his presence, he reflected that the latter thought seemed somewhat odd. How has this changed me, I wonder. I have found myself spending much time contemplating the best way to keep this realm for my own… and it seems that the best path has led to understanding those around me…

The train of thought made him uncomfortable, and it was almost a relief when Amanita Verdant turned her brilliant smile in his direction. “Oh, my apologies, Majesty. I was so involved in my work I did not see you there. What brings the King of Oz to visit me here in my humble garden?”

Ah, the charming and harmless flower approach. A shame none of your disguises, of body or of speech, work any more upon me. It was sometimes better, then. “Merely… curiosity, my Queen, as to some differences in policy which you appear to have directed without informing me. I would, you understand, prefer to know if any changes in Our directives are to be undertaken, that we appear to speak with one voice to the people.”

Her eyes widened and she gave her most innocent gaze. “To what differences do you refer, King Ugu?”

Play the ingenue as you will, then. “I am certain that you heard – if not with your own ears, then by proxy – my directives to the Viceroys, that assaults on the others of Faerie were forbidden. And now it appears that an assault was made on the flagship of Gilgad, one which nearly sank the object of our own plans, mind you, and which seems to have been directed by none other than yourself, Queen Amanita. Might you be willing to clarify these actions, which seem to me … a bit difficult to reconcile?”

“Oh, that!” Amanita laughed, then covered her mouth with a show of contrition. “My apologies, Majesty. I had thought you more clever than… that is, I had thought my reasoning entirely transparent.”

As transparent as your attempts to goad me. But we shall play the game. “Take care, Amanita. What is this obvious explanation which I am too stupid to understand?”

Her green eyes flashed for an instant with amused malevolence, but immediately returned to the wide-eyed harmless girl-queen. “Well, my King, we are agreed that our great advantage is in knowing the Prophecy, while our adversaries believe we know nothing – save, possibly, that a Prophecy exists, but nothing of its specifics, yes?”

Ugu nodded. “Iris Mirabilis has wisely treated the details as a state secret, and while we could ascertain that there is some ‘prophesied Hero’, no more than that would be available to us were Cirrus not one of us.”

“Exactly! So we should keep that advantage, I am sure you agree.” She scattered a dusting of sparkling powder with a gesture and the ground itself formed seats for the two of them. “Well, if we knew only that there was some prophesied hero and he was moving against us, would we not, in turn, move against him?”

Ugu grunted, as though he began to understand her point.

“I see you agree. Of course we would. For us to not attack him and his allies, at least on occasions when they seemed vulnerable, would possibly reveal that we know more than we ought, don’t you think?” She smiled prettily up at him. “So I had Cirrus direct a small but credible assault on that annoying little ship. We also have learned something of our opponent this way. Is this not a wise thing I have done?”

Ugu’s mouth tightened. His expression made clear that he did not like being so simply out-maneuvered. “I… I commend you on your strategy, my Queen. You are, of course, completely correct. Yet I would point out that General Dawnglory has been under my command, as you seemed more interested in your researches for the mystical defense of the realm, and I would prefer you not simply insert your commands into the military structure. Had you revealed these thoughts to me, I would certainly have given those directives, and this confusion would have been avoided.”

She smiled and ran her fingers sensuously through her silky hair. “Why, Ugu, I’m so terribly sorry. It wasn’t at all like that, it was just a personal request to Cirrus –” She put her hand delicately over her mouth again, the very picture of a woman who has accidentally revealed too much.

So that is the point she wishes to make. “Personal indeed, My Queen,” he said, with a hardness to his voice which – to his surprise – was not entirely an act. She is beautiful and talented and skilled, and helped bring me from my accursed bondage of centuries to rulership of Oz, and a part of me still wishes she was… what I once thought she could be. “Think you that I am entirely blind, or so old that I cannot see, or unable to watch as things pass within my own realm? I am aware that General Cirrus has been seen leaving your quarters at most inappropriate times. That will stop, Amanita, and it will stop now.”

All the gentleness vanished, and now there was just poison-candy venom in her smile. “You think you can order me in that fashion, Ugu? Order my personal life? Oh, I understand you may miss certain… aspects of interaction, but let us be clear that you have long since had all of your rewards in that area. Cirrus is a far more… compliant and entertaining companion.” She leaned forward and her voice carried the silken hiss of a cobra. “I will see whosoever I like, Your Majesty, and unless you wish to show yourself as foolish as other men, you will not risk your life or your current shape by trying to tell me otherwise.”

Ugu’s face was white and his voice, when he spoke, showed the strain of iron control. “I would not dream of interfering in whom you show the favor of your bedchamber, Queen Amanita. But for your sake, as well as that of my own image as the Ruler of Oz – an image you find useful, I remind you – what will stop is the clumsiness of these assignations. You may see whom you will, but you will no longer allow witnesses. The respect of the realm will not be tarnished by such sordid conduct.”

Her eyes narrowed, but the smile slowly returned; apparently she was willing to accept the practical directive with the knowledge that she had truly won the battle. “Oh, of course, my King. So we shall speak no more on that subject.”

Ugu nodded ungraciously. A change of subject. “Then allow me to ask how your researches have progressed, my Queen.”

Her expression lightened. “Oh, very well, King Ugu! In fact, since we are here, allow me to describe this to you – in privacy ensured by my magics, even better than your own.”

And so she tells me subtly that she has realized I have assured myself of security in my own chambers. But I doubt she realizes how carefully or subtly that security has been managed. “I would be most pleased to hear anything you would be willing to tell me.”

She turned and gestured; a small table grew from the ground between them, and the pebbles and grass upon it flickered and became an afternoon tea, with a number of dainty dishes on crystal and china. “Well spoken, my King.

“You understand that our greatest concern is that – despite all of our advantages and preparations – the mortal somehow achieves his power, the fusion of the power of Oz embodied in the Princess and the strength of a mortal being. I have dug deep and searched wide – often with the inestimable aid of your elemental servants,” she bowed in his direction with only a hint of mockery, “who have brought me much information from the other lands of Faerie. Such incidents have only happened a very few times in all our known history, but the past months have permitted me to assemble perhaps the most complete collection of accounts of all of these.” The smile widened. “And it turns out that even in that extremity, we have a good chance to triumph.”

Ugu leaned forward. “You fascinate me greatly, my Queen. How is this so?”

“His time is limited not merely by the nature of the fusion – by the fact that his body and soul will be overstrained by the alien power within him – but by something else.” Her smile grew even wider, a predator’s grin.

And as she continued her explanation, his own smile joined hers. Ahh. So very clear, even inevitable. So as soon as he gains the power, his very triumph is burning towards its own defeat. We need only survive long enough!

Ugu stood. “It is well, my Queen. Though, of course, we hope that this knowledge shall not be needed, as he will serve far better as a sacrifice than as a failed Hero.”

“Of course, King Ugu. Though,” and her smile was even more cold, “the failure of such a Hero would also do much to secure for all time our hold on this land.”

“As you say.”

Ugu bowed and left Amanita, and strode away, deep in thought, for some time. Finally he reached his own section of the Gray Castle.

“My lord?”

He smiled and nodded to Cirrus. “All is well. Very well indeed.”

“So she suspects nothing?”

Ugu’s smile was wry. “She suspects many things, my friend. But she does not give you credit for the strategy, and thus obviously suspects not at all that you passed to her the hints of action against the Hero, or the way in which I might be … missing critical aspects of the situation.”

Cirrus bowed. “Then all proceeds as planned.”

Ugu looked at him. “No… second thoughts?”

Cirrus did not pretend to misunderstand. “Majesty… she is quite beautiful. And … talented in certain areas. But… she is intending to use me as well. And she is even more mad than I had thought.” He shivered. “I will be well pleased when this is over, no matter how… entertaining some of the nights may be.”

Many are the men who would still be unable to think so clearly. A unique and precious find you are, Cirrus Dawnglory. “Soon, my friend. A few more months, I believe… and it will all be finished.”

 

 

 

 

Castaway Planet: Chapter 18

Things were busy and confusing around here yesterday — apologies for missing my schedule!

Sakura’s out exploring…

 

——

 

 

Chapter 18

 

 

       Sakura cut, perhaps with unnecessary viciousness, at a bamboolike stalk that blocked her passage. The machete—cut and ground down under Whips’ direction from one of the pieces of steel that had formed a major wing support—sliced cleanly through the stalk, which fell, spattering her with drops of blood and an explosion of crimson tendrils from the flowerlike ends; these were, fortunately, not venomous. “Oh, ick.”

“Sakura, slow down,” her father admonished. “You don’t need to break all the trail yourself. And if you insist on chopping your way along like some old-fashioned axe murderer, you can’t expect to stay nice and clean.”

For some reason, the forest on the farther side of the floating continent—at least in their area—was thicker than on their side. This expedition, with her, Dad, and Caroline, was an attempt to cut straight across from the column where she’d been stung to the other side, which should come out somewhere near where Dad thought there might be a stream.

Water was dripping on her from above, too. There’d been a heavy rainstorm last night, which had at least reduced the worry about water, but they still didn’t know anything about Lincoln’s seasons. This might be the “rainy season” and the dry season could leave them without water for weeks.

At least the dripping water helped her wash the icky stuff off, but the combination of heat and water wasn’t very pleasant.

Sakura slowed down, waiting for the other two to catch up. Whips would have come along but he wasn’t quite recovered from his fight against what Melody had named a dire-worm, causing her father to lecture everyone on the differences between worms, cnidarians, echinoderms, and how none of that applied here—and then agree that dire-worm was a very good name for the thing.

“Hey, Dad,” she said once they were caught up and had started pushing their way forward again, “you’d said you thought you’d figured out some things about our native life here?”

“Hmm?” Her father had been studying a small creature like a green box with bright lavender eyes, apparently spinning a web of some sort. “Oh, yes. Well, it’s nothing staggeringly surprising, but it is very indicative. From what I’ve seen, most things here—with the possible exception of our four-winged quadbirds, as Laura’s called them—have evolved to be able to survive both on land and underwater, at least for a time. This is rather what I expected to find, of course, but it’s exciting to have it confirmed.”

“And a little worrisome,” Caroline said.

She looked at Caroline. “Why?”

“I think Caroline means because of what it implies,” her father answered. Caroline nodded, and he continued, “If these islands stayed stable for, oh, millions upon millions of years, you’d expect obligate air-breathers to become fairly common. There’s a biological cost for keeping both options open, so to speak, and something that can just focus on one should gain a considerable advantage. The ocean-dwelling ones certainly are nicely focused.”

Sakura thought, then understanding dawned. “Oh. You mean that if they’re all ready for either one, then these islands break up, roll over, whatever, fairly often on an evolutionary scale.”

“So I would guess, yes.” They rounded another of the great columns, this one slightly shorter than some others, and pushed on into another cluster of heavy jungle. Sakura watched every unfamiliar object narrowly; the last thing she wanted was to end up stung again.

The path ahead lightened, and suddenly she could see into a moderate sized clearing. “Oh, wow,” she whispered.

In the clearing, apparently grazing on the blue-crystalline semi-grass that carpeted the little meadow, was a herd of creatures. They had blunt heads with big, rounded eyes, bodies supported by several squat legs, and a pair of ridges extending on either side of the body. But what was surprising was that they were covered with a lovely blue-green material that looked—at least from this distance—like fur. The animals measured about two meters long on average, but Sakura could see several much smaller, but generally similar creatures, trotting around and between the others, nuzzling their flanks, and generally being treated the way that young animals are everywhere: as a beloved but sometimes having to be tolerated nuisance.

“My goodness,” Akira said bemusedly. “Their top jaws seem to have fused, though the bottom still splits. Other than that odd tripartite jaw, they have an almost Earthly look about them. Like… like a capybara, in a way.”

“They’re adorable,” Sakura said. “I wonder if they’re dangerous.”

“We have to assume so,” Caroline said.

Two of the creatures nearest them straightened and looked at the humans at the edge of the clearing. The two gave warbling chirps, and the rest of the herd moved restlessly. Other cries were heard, and Sakura could see the youngsters moving closer in.

“Defensive reaction to the unknown. They’re tightening into a better defended group,” her father said, in a fascinated tone. “The scouts or guards have moved closer too, but they’re staying on the outside and watching us, obviously ready to defend the others.”

He frowned. “This isn’t a new reaction. They obviously do this often.”

“Which means there must be some pretty big and mobile predators around,” Caroline said slowly.

“I’m afraid so. But this may be a very big find. Those animals might be tamable, if we can figure out how to make use of their herd instincts.”

“You mean domesticate them? What for?”

“I’m not sure—yet. But anything from meat to draft animals. We have soil, we have water, there are undoubtedly plants we can eat here—agriculture seems like a good idea. But trying to plow a field by hand… let’s say I’d rather find an alternative.”

Caroline nodded. “The larger ones are about the size of … oh, what was that breed… Shetland ponies. Not exactly massive draft animals, but still pretty big, and strong enough for a lot of things. If they can be domesticated. I have no idea if that’s possible, though.”

“It’s worth thinking about.”

Sakura grinned. “I could ride one!”

“If it didn’t decide to bite you,” Caroline pointed out.

Her father finished getting imagery of the creatures and gestured. “Let’s move on. No need to keep these things on edge.”

As the three of them moved around the edge of the clearing, the small herd of animals edged cautiously around, trying to keep the same position with respect to them, moving under some of the large tree-like growths fringing the clearing in that direction.

Without warning, something lashed down from above, grasped one of the blue-green capybara-like creatures, and yanked it screaming out of sight into the forest canopy above. Sakura gave her own yelp of startled shock, and heard similar sounds of consternation from her father and Caroline.

For the herd it was not consternation; it was panic. The entire mass of creatures stampeded away, even as a second pair of tendrils streaked out and slashed at one of the rearguard, sending the animal tumbling. One of the littler animals gave a trilling shriek and ran towards the one that had been struck. The bigger animal let out an emphatic bellow and got up, running with a pronounced limp; the little one turned and fled just ahead of the limping one. A mother and its baby?

         Something leapt from the trees just behind the fleeing herd and thudded to the ground. It scuttled on multiple jointed legs and held two tentacles coiled back, waiting to strike. It looked ungainly, like a cross between a lobster and a squid, but it moved shockingly fast. It was closing the distance between it and the limping creature.

Sakura didn’t know what caused it. Maybe it was the pitiful trill of the baby as it saw the thing coming, or the sight of the parent creature obviously trying to keep itself between the baby and the oncoming predator. But something drove a knife of empathy and rage straight into her heart and she was suddenly charging out, her father and sister screaming at her.

Part of her—most of her—realized how stupid this was—and how it was even more stupid than she’d originally thought. They might think she was another predator trying to attack!

         But instead, the running herd merely split around her as she ran. The limping creature and its cub were streaking closer, but the tentacular predator was faster still. Got to …

         Instinct and reflexes of a born pilot were the only thing that saved her. She saw a ripple on one side of the predator and dove forward, the striking tentacle passing just over her head. She rolled to her feet, feeling the ice-cold of adrenaline washing through her. The predator was now less than a meters away, but she swung hard—

         The concussion of impact tore the machete from her hand and sent her tumbling away, bruised and dizzy. Sakura heaved herself back up, trying to focus as the predator shrieked in rage, but she knew she didn’t have any more weapons.

Abruptly her father was there, plunging an alloy-tipped spear straight into the thing’s shrieking mouth, rolling aside as the tendrils ripped through the air he’d occupied. Then Caroline, pale as paper, brought down her own machete with a two-handed blow that split the thing’s carapace. It spasmed and went limp.

Sakura shook her head, clearing it, even as her father—with one more glance at the creature to make sure it wasn’t moving again—ran to her. “Sakura! Sakura, are you all right?”

“I… I think so, dad. Just a little shaken up…”

Her father’s face suddenly transformed from concern to fury, more angry than she had ever seen him. “Bakame! What the hell were you doing? A little shaken up? I… you… I should give you a shaking you’ll never forget!”

“And I’ll be there to help!” Caroline stomped her foot as though that might be the only thing keeping her from slapping her sister. “Of all the utterly idiotic things…”

“I’m sorry!” she said, and she was. That was so stupid.

The shock and fear and guilt overcame her and she started crying. “I know, I was so stupid, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Dad, I don’t know why…”

Akira sagged to his knees, then touched her shoulder. “I know perfectly well why. But we can’t do that, honey. We can’t afford to lose anyone. And even if we could, your mother and I would be devastated if—”

“I know. I know…”

She looked up and then saw movement beyond her father.

The wounded animal and its baby were standing maybe fifteen or twenty meters away, looking at them. Farther behind, the herd waited, shifting restlessly.

Her father and Caroline turned slowly, and for a moment all was still; the blue-green animals with deep green eyes staring at the humans, the humans looking back and wondering.

Then the parent-animal snorted quietly, and turned and walked, still limping slightly, away. The baby looked back and followed. There was no sign of hurry or concern in the herd now.

Her father took a shaky breath, let it out. “That… could be very promising.” He looked down and the anger was back, though more muted. “But that does not excuse your behavior, Sakura. If you cannot control yourself, you’re little better than Hitomi, and I may have to ground you—even though we really cannot afford that.”

         She looked down. No way I can argue. He’s right. I saw the little animal running and the mother—I assumed it was a mother—hurt, and I just acted, no thinking. No better than Hitomi. Maybe worse, because I know better than that.

She forced herself to look up and meet her father’s gaze—and with him looking so angry, that wasn’t easy. Akira Kimei was almost never the angry one, that was her mother who brought down the wrath of God usually. “I know, Dad. I won’t do anything like that ever again. I promise. I knew it was stupid as soon as I found myself out there, and I know I was luckier than I deserve.”

He closed his eyes, then opened them and nodded. The anger had faded to a warning behind his gaze. “All right. Then let’s keep going; if you’re not hurt, we’ve still got work to do.” He looked to the body, lying not far away. “And the first work is to take a look at this beast.”

         Sakura nodded and moved towards the body. She glanced towards the trees from which the thing had come. And another way I was lucky; what if these predators had decided to protect each other? We’d all be dead.

She gripped the handle of her machete and ripped it out of the body. I won’t endanger my family again. I won’t!

As she bent over the animal and listened to her father’s discussion of the thing they’d killed, those words echoed deep inside her, not merely a decision, but an oath. I won’t endanger them. I won’t.

Never again.