When I arrived, traveling alone, my portal stopped me outside of town. This was a surprise to me, as I didn’t realize there were ways to prevent a portal from arriving in its intended place while still allowing it to function. I’d been under the impression that it would either work, or it wouldn’t.
Guess that’s a new one for me.
I had stepped through in a dense forest, rich growth everywhere. For all I could tell, this could be the Feywild – strange as it was, though, the stars matched up with the world I knew, so I was comfortable in the assessment of it being the outskirts of Al’Veydra. The forest was alive with sounds, skitterings and chirps in the night, as the variety of creatures that sleep through the day went about the business of securing their meal and propagating their species.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was in the Trollhaunt Weld. This small wood outside Al’Veydra had grown around what was thought to be a permanent crossing point into the Feywild, one of the elvish pathways. For some reason, since our removal of Veyd and his influence, the Feywild had pushed forward through the path, exerting its influence on the Real – much like the Overspill Market found room for its excess vendors by shunting them through a portal into Vanots Kabre, here the Feywild pushed its forest through in an explosion of vegetation.
I moved through this temperate jungle slowly, picking my way among the trees and branches, pushing leaves aside gently as I went. The druids and rangers of the Sestus Wyr called this place home, and guarded it jealously – the last thing I needed was to be cut down because I bruised the wrong twig. Making my way along the best track I could towards town, maintaining the quietest profile I could. Which roughly equates to stepping on practically everything that would break with a snap, crackle, or pop in sight despite teleporting my way across visible stretches of ground. I take great pride in my ability to generate noise, and sometimes it seems I have a mystical gift for it. Probably sounded like a mortally-wounded elephant crushing the hut of a glass-blower.
Sometime after midnight, a clearing became evident, in which several small covered campfires were laid and perhaps a dozen people arrayed themselves about. Three of them had bows drawn on me when I emerged from the wooded cover.
I grinned and waved in my best ‘friendly’ tone, hoping the masked figures weren’t about to try their hand at splitting each others’ arrows in my sternum.
“Evening, folks. Sorry to disturb, but is there a bakery nearby?”
A figure seated by the fire held up a hand and muttered something I couldn’t quite make out, but the archers lowered their weapons.
Addaweyr of the Night turned to look at me over his shoulder. Half his face cloaked in shadow – which, in the middle of the night, is not unusual, but for Addaweyr it is a unique sign of his Eladrin heritage that he always lost half his face to shadow – he smiled thinly. “We have been waiting for you to get here.”
“You knew I was coming?”
“If you mean did we hear you stumbling around in circles for the last thirty minutes before finally finding this place, yes. I thought about having someone trail you, but that hardly seemed necessary.” He lifted a cup to his mouth. “Have a seat.”
“I received a message, that Fellbane had arrived here.” I was offered a cup of my own from one of Addaweyr’s associates, which I accepted gratefully. “Are they here?”
“In a manner of speaking, no,” he replied. “They are still to come, but it was foretold that they would arrive here.”
“Then why did J’Tiel call me here?”
“He didn’t. I had a messenger craft that in such a way as to get your attention.”
“Ahh, all right. So Fellbane isn’t here, and you called me using J’Tiel’s name. I really, really hope this was important, because I was on my way to save them – your seer might have missed the part about them being in grave danger.”
“He didn’t. His vision said that one would fall before they return.” He stared into the fire and held his cup close to it, to keep it warm. Al’Veydra is far enough North that the temperatures are considerably more chilly later into the year. In fact, there were still small patches of snow and ice that I had seen in the forest behind me, ones that had not yet melted.
“And still you brought me here? For all that is holy, I’ve got to find a way back and get to them…”
“No,” he said with some finality. “If you rejoin them, you all fall.”
“What?”
“That was the vision. Unity is ruin – the horn that rides to rescue shall bring destruction instead, and downfall of the Bane. Among them, one shall fall and one shall turn, the rest to home and war prepared, tested and purified in the crucible.”
I tried not to look too disgusted. “Oh yeah, that sounds so clear.”
He shrugged. “I don’t put a lot of stock in oracles, myself, but it seemed wiser to divert you. Lately, my faith against them has been tested more strongly than my granting them some doubt. Besides, we need you here.”
I tried not to let the thought of one of my companions not making it back dominate me. One would fall…what could happen? Given past history it would probably be Sered, but he was fairly resilient – Devas were remarkably flexible when it came to dying – their spirits were, I supposed, accustomed to being disembodied. But what was that bit about turning? What in all the Hells did that mean?
Then the other bits hit me. “Wait a moment – what was that? What do you need me for here?”
Addaweyr looked around at the darkened forest, and waved his hand. “The Feywild is encroaching on the Middle World. Things like this don’t happen without a reason. As well, Shan Diresh is said to be taking an interest in matters here – which is not ordinary by any stretch. You, being closely allied with him, and having experience in matters Fey, are our best source of information regarding his intentions and what’s happening here.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but he doesn’t really talk to me so much.” I was a little chagrined to admit this. “Then again, he doesn’t really talk, you know? He seems to spend a lot of effort just kinda…shining, making people uncomfortable, that sort of thing. Talking through others.”
“Yes, I know. That‘s why we wanted to talk to you. You might have experience as his voice, know something of his plans, that kind of thing.”
“Afraid not, he doesn’t share that stuff with me. He’s never spoken through me, though I do act on his behalf sometimes. As his emissary, he does grant me a portfolio.”
“A portfolio?” He looked at me quizzically.
“I have a few extra spells which are exclusively linked to him, and my pact with the Fey centers on his lands, with his permission.”
“Well, that’s far closer than any of us can get, so you’re worthwhile. I have to ask for you to try to get word from him where he stands regarding the conflicts here in the Bannerlands.” He sipped from the cup. Then he looked up at me again. “Just out of curiosity, I didn’t realize your people developed drop-tines, or forks at all, now that I think of it. What’s up with your horns?”
I didn’t let any expression get out, but reached up casually to feel my right horn with the end of my tail. The bulk of it was normal, but sure enough, about three inches off my skull a fork had developed, and a tine had begun to sprout pointing downward. There was also a bump above it and a little ways further out, a tine about to grow up and outward, from the feel of it.
“Guess I’m special. I suppose I’ll have to keep an eye out, make sure no hunters get over-ambitious and add my head to the wall of my own inn.” I shrugged it off. A quick slide across the other let me know that the new growth was echoed on the opposite horn. He was right – we don’t get tines. Single horns, ram-like, is our trait. Differences in curvature, yes, and the different sexes often had particular directions that were favored (especially in areas strongly influenced by culture – children’s new growth was often “trained” similarly to how botanicals warp thegrowth of trees to produce dwarf varieties and special sculpture. But tines? Natural ones? I hadn’t ever heard of them on us.
Til now.
I chose to return to the original topic. “Well, I can certainly try, but I can’t guarantee results. I also don’t see why this was worth bringing me here.” My friends were in trouble, and I was getting no joy from the anxiety. To be brought here and presented with a situation I knew to be a worthless avenue to pursue just sent my frustration levels through the roof.
“It’s worth it because I thought it was worth it. Look, any one of you would have done, but you’re the closest to information I haven’t got yet. That clear enough? I’d love to debate it with you, but you turned up in the phrases, I called you, you came. That’s all there is to it. Unless you’ve got some way to jump back in time…”
I looked at him sharply, but said nothing. I couldn’t tell if he understood what that meant to me.
“…then the deed is done, and let’s get to work. I need your help with Shan Doresh, and you have nothing better to do. Am I right?” His impatience bled through easily.
I looked around, and in a moment of egocentric thought considered that I could raze the whole small camp without a lot of effort. Setting that aside, I also realized that I had no need to do so – and that doing so would simply be wrong. He did what he thought was best. I could only hope that the dice he cast wouldn’t cost too much when the bill came due.
“I’ll try to reach Shan Doresh for you. Again, no guarantees, but I’ll try.” I stood up. “Got a place for me to sleep?”
“Some of the others have set up over there,” he motioned with the cup. “Should be room enough.”
I began to walk over that way, and quickly spotted the seven forms in a large flat patch on the ground. He called out from where he remained:
“Thank you.”
I waved without looking back, and found myself a clear spot to put my bedroll and blanket.
* * *
I dreamed myself back into the library, the overhead skylights dark with night outside. At least, that’s what I imagined. Since I had never actually gone outside, I couldn’t tell what was out there. Could be that portion of my mental theater, never having been needed, was simply empty. Certainly there were no stars, so that was also an option.
The fire was crackling in the fireplace, and two oil lamps added their light to the room. I poured a small glass of whiskey and walked along the shelves. I recognized many books of my own, and also several from my father’s own shelves. No doubt the originals, which I’d snuck my way to reading as an adolescent, were dust and ash now, but at least the memory of the books themselves was present here. It was hard to imagine my family just gone, even though we’d never been very close. Almost two years had passed since my jump forward, and thinking about the past – the real past, history now – wasn’t quite so fresh. It certainly wasn’t gone, but it seemed much more solidified in the context of memory now rather than reality.
What now? I had no idea how to address Shan Doresh, I’d never been given instructions on that. I knew how to retrieve soulstuff and channel it, how to implant nightmares and steal dreams, but just talking? This wasn’t in the training.
I summoned up the few nightmares that had remained after my fight with Voedle, materializing them in the room with me. Six in all, appearances so varied it was hard to call them anything more than half-formed.
One was a viscous glob resembling a cave mold, yellowish-gray, that moved by extending dozens of tiny pseudopodia and filling them in as they reached forward. It crawled along the wall, fastening itself to books and plaster just by sheer adhesiveness. Not something I would assume capable of speech.
A second had the form of a large mastiff, a skeletal ribcage stuffed with rotted organs and a head that possessed dripping jaws that swung open laterally rather than vertically. Its powerful legs ended in grasping suckers similar to certain seafoods I’d eaten. Its eyes, pustulent white orbs that oozed a milky fluid, flitted around lazily, never quite looking at the same things at the same time. It was standing next to the fireplace, and I could smell part of its exposed innards singeing with proximity to the heat.
The third and fourth were identical, bat-winged and hairless, formed like bald weasels and possessed of mouths formed in a circular lamprey-like nature, crammed full of recurved teeth. To my observation, they had no eyes, but for sensory organs they appeared to have catfish-like whiskers of flesh that taped and draped along before them. They crawled along the ceiling, side-by-side, slowly circling the skylight.
The fifth sat in the chair opposite me, a headless body with a bloody stump of a neck, dressed in the clothes of a commoner, and carrying a bag that dripped with old, coagulated blood. I assumed its head was in there.Its free hand tapped a gentle rhythm on the arm of the chair.
The last sat, parrot-like, on my shoulder, four claws gently holding on to the leather of my jacket. It had hair, a dark brown and coarse coat of short lengths, banded and striped in varying shades. Its head appeared completely natural, something like a cross between a long-nosed bat and a rat. It had wicked little teeth and a cylindrical tongue that darted about like that of a snake. Bright green eyes darted about, looking at the others as though scoping them out for a quick attack.
“Hello again, all of you.” I sipped at the whiskey and let it burn down my throat. The little bat-creature sniffed at the glass before turning its face away.
“I seek to speak with your master, but I do not know precisely how to arrange a meeting other than to attend him in person, andI haven’t time for that. Can you offer me any advice to this end?”
The ooze squelched, and if they had vocal capacity, the two weasel-lampreys would have probably squeaked at me.
From inside the bag, a muffled man’s voice came: “He doesn’t respond to simple calls, he is a Lord of the Fey, Azrael Ille Macreane.”
I looked over at the headless body. It had sat forward, spilling a little extra blood on its shirt. The neck bubbled with every breath, and the skin of its neck flapped in and out over the windpipe.
“I do not wish to summon him for binding. That would be too great an offense.”
“Without visiting him in person, you cannot expect an audience.” The voice gargled. It was a hoarse whisper, blurred by the jellied fluids no doubt trapped with it in that bag.
“Will one of you act as a courier? I have granted you a home, however temporary it may be. That has to be of value in barter to you.”
As soon as I mentioned the word courier, each of the nightmares became agitated. The ooze retracted into a hard little ball, the dog shivered, the weasels and the little bat-thing shivered and did their best to chitter, while the body pulled its arms back to its sides and cradled the bag on its lap.
“To call attention to oneself is to risk being consumed by His presence.” The bag muttered this from behind the protectively-circling arms.
“He devours dreams?”
“No, consumed like wood in a flame. Burned away like chaff in a conflagration. His is the stronger presence.”
“You do not need to speak with him personally, you can travel to Dal Quar, and give the message to Ivaerin or Santiriana. From there the message can make its own way to Shan Doresh.”
I probably shouldn’t have mentioned Ivaerin. The two weasel-lamprey things made strange squeaking noises and burrowed into the ceiling, out of sight. The holes they left sealed up behind them. The blob simply evaporated, and the dog crouched to the floor, whimpering. The small thing on my shoulder leaped off and cleared to the fireplace mantle, where it lay panting, and the headless corpse drew its legs up into a foetal position in the chair.
“Not good, no, not good.” The head-in-the-bag said.
Well, I had at least tried. “All right, relax. You there – corpse guy. Do you have a name?”
“Name?”
“Fine. You’re now Headless Max. You know the two of whom I speak?”
“No one’s ever given me a name before. I am Headless Max.” Its legs came down off the chair. “I like having a name, I think.”
I snapped my fingers. “Answer the question. Do you know them?”
If it were attached, its head would have nodded. “Yes, I know them.”
I thought it over for a moment. “Go to Santiriana, and take this message: the Emissary wishes to know Shan Doresh’s desired outcome of the conflict brewing in the Bannerlands. I wish to see what assistance can be offered or asked for.”
“He will give you nothing, Azrael Ille Macreane.”
“Perhaps not, but at least the question is asked, and I promised to ask it. Can you remember the message?”
“The Emissary wishes to know the outcome desired in the conflict in the Bannerlands. What assistance can be offered or asked for.” The voice had a tremor in it.
Interesting that a nightmare can feel fear.
“Fine, now – go, and return to me with whatever response you can get, Headless Max. I still offer you a home here so long as you serve me faithfully.”
The body stood up, straightened its clothes, and walked out. I supposed that that was probably the last time I’d see Headless Max in one pie…hmm. Maybe not the best of metaphors. Again. There. Better.
“As for the rest of you, find somewhere else to settle for tonight, leave the room. I wish to study.” I went back to the shelves and retrieved one of the books I’d recovered from Sheng – I’d read through them once, and had found them fascinating – and began reading. He had been a specialist with fire, and while I still favored ice, the utility of igniting things could not be denied.
I think that just for a moment, while I was reading, perhaps a flicker of cold moonlight fell on the pages over my shoulder, but when I looked up, nothing but blackness greeted me in the skylights.
* * *
I know I dreamed that night, in the traditional sense. Broken fragments of memory floating up out of the stew, only to fall away out of sight again. In the morning it all faded from recall. I found Addaweyr still in the clearing, still holding his cup. I wondered briefly if he slept that way.
“Morning,” I said, settling on a small flattened patch of grass across from him. “I’ve sent the message.”
“And?” He glowered at me across the clearing.
“And…I don’t get a response until and unless he decides to supply one. As soon as I have something I can tell you, I will.” I looked around the campsite. “So now what? I’ve probably already missed whatever opportunity I had to help the rest of my friends, since it will take me weeks to travel from the one portal I know in Banner to their location again.”
“Now, from what I am told, we wait. They will come here.”
“For how long are we waiting? You could be talking months, man.”
“For however long it takes. You’re a free man, you don’t have to just sit here with me.”
“Damned right about that,” I said, and walked away.
I had time. Fine. They might arrive tomorrow, or they could all die. I decided that while I would be prepared for the rest of my companions to arrive sooner, I’d plan out an effort for the long-term. The members of Lion’s Lunge would probably turn up soon anyway, so I would have some options. I decided to make a quiet entry into town, and pay a visit to the blacksmith. I had a few ideas of some necessities for Al’Veydra that we didn’t already have handled.
Before I left, I informed Addaweyr of the potential arrival of Kineta and the rest, making sure awareness was up in order to avoid any unfortunate confrontations if and when they arrived.
I pulled on a riding cloak and tugged the hood over my head.
Al’Veydra had changed. I suppose it was because on my last visit I hadn’t paid it much attention – it was a burgeoning city. I had really been focused on getting to and from the Inn without notice, and in so doing I expect I had simply not noticed in return. The town I had known had blossomed out – there were farms, new buildings, everywhere you looked there was some sort of new structure going up.
And the defenses were in hand, as well. Watch-towers along the borders, new weapons and gear on the guards, and the three sets of militia were in evidence. I would not characterize Al’Veydra as a town preparing for war, but should the need come – and someday soon, I’m sure it would – it would be prepared for one.
The Inn was doing good business, as I would expect, and the distillery had two chimneys smoking, so I knew things were in order there. I decided best not to disturb the operations there, both because I saw no need to and because I still didn’t want to have any indication of my arrival in town pop up so soon.
The blacksmith was already hammering out a horse-shoe when I arrived, the rhythm of the hammer like a church-bell echoing out. Coal smoke hit my nose well before I got there, kept low by the cold temperatures and the absence of an appreciable breeze. It was a relief, since Al’Veydra didn’t have a real sewer like many big cities. That was a problem that needed remedy, as well, but I wasn’t going to dig it myself. For now, the gutters down the center of each lane would have to suffice. The smell from these was…not quite ripe, but in summer heat it would be less than pleasant.
The man looked up from his work to where I stood for a moment, then back down to the last few strokes against the iron. He then dipped it quickly in a bucket of water, and after a couple of seconds tossed it on a small pile of similar shoes I hadn’t noticed. Wiping the worst of the grime from his hand, he extended it to me. “Help you?”
“Yes, you can,” I said, pulling my cowl back.
His eyes widened a touch. “Ah, master Azrael, I did not know you had returned.”
“Few do, and it would be profitable for that to remain the case.”
“I see, yes sir. What can I do for you?” He nodded, looking down. “What can I do for a foreign traveler?”
A small smile spread out on my face. “Thank you. I have a commission for you, master smith. I’d like several stamps made.”
“Stamps?”
“Yes indeed. About the size of a potato masher on the fob, and about half the length of my thumb in width,” I demonstrated with my hand as I spoke. “They’re to be uniform in size, and the pattern on them should match this.”
I produced a wooden chuck that I’d carved a while back with a stylized troll’s hand, a spike through it. “If you know someone who can do the work in a little more detail, I’d appreciate it, but this will do.”
He looked it over. “Sir, you’d have been better going to Hird, the jeweler. He’s better at this fine detail work than I am.”
“I was hoping that perhaps you’d do so for me. You probably don’t spend much time together, but I’d like to have you two collaborate on this. Have you ever built a stamping machine?”
“No, sir, never have.”
“Alright, that’s not necessary right now. Just the stamps. A set of five would be fine.”
He nodded. “All right, sir, I can do that.”
I handed him ten rounds of gold. “This should more than cover yours and Hird’s expenses, am I right?”
“Oh yes sir, it will.”
“Good. Please deliver them to my name at the keep when they are completed, and there’ll be five more for you when I pick them up. I am not sure when I’ll be around, but I’ll make sure the money is set aside for you when I make it back up there.” I turned away, putting my hood back up.
“Sir? Are these what I think they are for?” He asked me quietly.
“Yes, as a matter of fact they are. It’s about time Al’Veydra had its own currency. If we’re going to be a force in this world, we need to have our shop in order as well as our army.”
With that, I walked off.
I didn’t spend a lot of time lingering around town – no sense in further advertising my presence. Instead I headed back to the Trollhaunt Weld and decided to wait out the week, to see if Kineta and the others, or Fellbane, would return while I was there. I spent most of that week helping Addaweyr’s men, and the Al-Kabeth people in hunting, taking care of their regular daily routines, that sort of thing. I also got to know a few of them more closely, should it come to pass that I needed ears or eyes in any of their particular positions.
I arranged for a couple of the Al-Kabeth children to run errands for me, going into town for basic supplies I might need as well as to the distillery to retrieve a few bottles of better drink than water scraped off a leaf. I sent money with them, and used a different name, in order to avoid them making the connection with me.
Meanwhile, I began to wonder about the nature of the Trollhaunt Weld. What was it that was pushing the Feywild into the Middle-World? How was this happening, and what pressure-difference was it expanding to fill?
The answers were not readily apparent – on this side of the link between the worlds.
I considered it for a while, and came to the conclusion that I was going to have to take a trip into the Feywild itself in order to retrieve the answer to this.
Four days after I’d arrived, Lion’s Lunge made their appearance. I saw first-hand what Addaweyr had been talking about, as Lotonna ploughed through the forest with all the subtlety of – pardon me, I have to use it – a bull in a china shop. Horace’s swearing was only slightly less loud, though both Nemmy and Kineta remained stoic in their traverse of the forest’s paths. Nemmy still had his midriff in a bandage, but he moved smoothly enough to tell me that his injuries were all but healed. I attributed this to their finding a healer back in Shady Hollow.
“This was supposed to be inside a castle,” I heard Horace grumbling as they came closer. “How in the names of the gods did we end up in a jungle? Where in all the World are we, anyhow?”
Kineta’s voice piped up from the back: “That is the ninth time you have asked me that in the last hour, and the answer has not changed since the last time. I am therefore not answering it. Now, unless you have something new to add, please shut up before I set fire to something you need.”
Lotonna leading the way, they broke through the clearing to see the various armed men and the campsite. He stood up straight, surveying the area. I’d already waved off the soldiers to stand down, so no threat was made. His gaze settled on me, and a huge grin broke out on his long muzzle. I never get over how many sharp teeth the minotaur have. I suppose I’m just so accustomed to thinking of the face of a bovine as a harmless herd animal that to see the dentition of a very aggressive carnivore in it is discongruous.
He strode directly to me, grasped my hand, and head-butted me so sharply that light flashed across my eyes for a second. The next thing I saw was the canopy above, hazing back into view, and hearing Nemmy’s voice muttering, “…job, steak. We come all this way to catch up with him and you brain him in the first three seconds.” I felt a cold cloth pressed to my face, and a gentle hand behind it. Hoping it wasn’t Horace, I snuck a look back and up. The dizziness that ensued made me regret the motion, but Kineta’s face coming into view made it worthwhile.
“Hello,” she said quietly.
“Hi. I seem to have bumped my head,” I started reaching up to feel the spot, which spread a wave of nausea across my entire body. Even my toes wanted to throw up.
“I saw that, yes. Should be careful what you bang your head against in the future.”
“Mm-hmm. How’s the rodent doing?”
“He’s good. I think you saw him walking around before you fell over, right?” She leaned back a bit, out of my field of view.
“Yeah, think I saw that, or maybe it was something following you.” I tried to sit up, felt the nausea again, and decided that sitting up was overrated.
“So, where are your friends?”
“Long story, not here. I was…misinformed on their location.”
“Where are they, then?” She was frowning, I could hear it.
“Apparently still in the Boil.”
“What?!?” She stood up. “So who was it called you here? And are they still alive?”
“Wait one, settle down. I got called back because someone picked up a divination that if I joined them, we’d all be dead now. Instead, without me, apparently only one will fall and one will turn, whatever that means.” I raised my arm to cover my eyes, as the trees were still doing some sort of slow dance in a circle around me.
“Oh my gods,” she mumbled. “And you don’t know which? That’s terrible,” she slowed her speech down as she said this, coming down from the sudden rush of anger she’d had on.
“Trying not to think about it. Look, whatever was going to happen had probably already happened before we even started out, now it’s doubly sure to have taken place. Done is done.”
She settled down next to me. “So what do we do now? And where is this place, anyway? This isn’t where we expected to come. This doesn’t even feel like our world, really.”
“This is the Trollhaunt Weld, we’re about two miles from Al’Veydra. There’s a semi-permanent passage into the Feywild near here, that’s how this forest got to be so…enthusiastic. Kinda like the Overspill Market, but instead of booths and stalls, you get man-eating trees and other fun stuff.”
“Interesting – I didn’t realize a forest could push like that. People and animals, I understand, but trees? Why’s that happening?” She laid her head in the crook of my shoulder, resting sideways on my chest.
“Not really sure. Was thinking that since Fellbane isn’t here, I might do a little exploring and maybe find out. Are you game?”
“Sounds interesting, sure. The others will be up for it too, I’m certain. Horace and Lotonna were practically itching to fight each other by the time Nemmy was ambulatory.”
“I was what?” I heard the thin voice a few feet away. “I was no such thing, and you should stop saying that.”
“It means you can walk, you turd,” Lotonna’s voice was just as close. “How about you, Shadrim? Going to let a little bump on the head keep you off your feet?”
“For a little while longer, I think yeah, unless you want me to throw up on your nice shiny coat there. You gave me a concussion, you tool.” I moaned with a little more drama than I intended.
I heard his huffing laughter. “Can’t take a little knock on the head. Ppppffft. What are you going to do with a giant who wants to jelly your brains with a boulder?”
“Same thing as I’d do for anyone that size. Set their face on fire, then ram my blade up their nethers while they’re still screaming. Maybe then I’ll even let them see me.”
Horace chuckled a bit at that. “Good to see you again, Az.”
I held up my free hand in a thumbs-up, keeping my eyes covered.
Kineta rolled up. “Seems we’re waiting a little bit here.”
“Not me, I’m heading for town, there’s beer to be had.” Horace said.
I bolted upright. “No!” I almost threw up, and collapsed myself back down. “I mean, no, we can’t go to Al’Veydra yet. I’m still wanted, all of Fellbane is, and it’s likely that you all are known companions of mine now.”
“Beer. Me. Not together. See the problem I’m trying to picture here?” His voice was impatient.
“Yeah, I know, I got it. But trust me, it’s a lot healthier not to be seen right now, and Al’Veydra’s probably riddled with spies at this point. Look, go talk to Addaweyr, he’s the leader, the half-Eladrin. He’ll know how to get you a keg or a small cask. If he can send someone in, I’ll pay for it.”
“Hmm. Delay a little longer, free beer all night. Fair enough, where’s this Addaweyr?”
“Can’t miss him, half is face is always in shadow.”
“That sounds…strange.”
“You travel with a minotaur. What qualifies as strange?”
Nemmy broke in. “Come on, guys, let’s go hunt down that keg. I want to see if I leak out my holes.”
As they wandered off, I re-covered my eyes. Kineta stayed with me, silently.
After a little while she spoke. “Everyone’s left, Az. It’s just you and I here. Will you tell me why it is that you’re wanted?”
I thought it over. Hiding it from her further probably wouldn’t do anyone any good. “Yeah.”
Taking a deep breath, I told her about the coming conflict. The Shadrim army under Kaenig. The Morvreyans in league with Asmodeus. The demonic horde of undead led by Casava, and Corfyr. The Gaulus prophecies, naming “Fell’s Dark Bane” as a major player in the outcome. How we’d probably pissed off everyone on both sides of the fight. About the Jessil Kerith, the rogue scholars fighting to break the hold of both Orcus and Asmodeus and give the peoples of our world free choice again.
Finally, where I was born. My own prophecy. How Asmodeus let my people fall just to see the prophecy go unfulfilled. My vow to destroy him.
When I was done, I lapsed into silence. The quiet went on a long while. “So, even if we win, even if we break the back of the infernals and the demons, they still win. A hundred years from now, maybe two hundred, they sneak in and start the whole mess over again,” she concluded.
“I think you see the problem, yes. The souls of the Middle World are a rich resource. Food for some, power for others, but desperately desired by both. We’re a crop to them.”
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” Her hand was on my chest.
“Yeah, I feel the same way sometimes,” I agreed.
“What can we do against that? How can we break their hold on us?”
“I don’t know. But I have to try. What point is there if we don’t? Like you said, they’ll just come back. They’re patient, after all.”
“I mean, what are you going to do?”
“That’s the hard part, Kineta. I think I’m going to have to kill him.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think? Asmodeus. He betrayed my people, he is responsible for so much callous destruction. He can’t be allowed to continue on that path.”
“That’s crazy, Az, you can’t take on the Hells all by yourself.”
“You’re right, that would be crazy. That’s why I don’t intend to do it alone, and I certainly don’t intend to make a frontal assault of it.”
“I can’t believe we’re even talking about this.”
“Trust me, Fellbane feels the same way. They’ll eventually realize, as I did, that this has to be done. At first it was just personal for me, but now I see that every soul in the Middle World depends on my success here. I think we have to make this place safe – defeat their forces, both of them. That should buy us time to work out a strategy for deposing the Ruby Lord.”
“What then? What happens when you do it? I mean, even if you succeed and live, won’t another fiend just step up?”
“I don’t know, hadn’t thought that far ahead. I suspect I’ll have to arrange some kind of compact with the rest of the Gods to prevent that from happening.”
“You’re talking about things so far beyond me, I can barely wrap my head around the ideas.”
I nodded, and noticed I must be feeling better – the urge to vomit wasonly a slight nagging sense, rather than an insistent urge.
“You agree, but I don’t think you hear what I’m saying, Az. I can’t go along with you on this. I mean, I want to help you in any way I can, but I can’t do this with you.” Her face was sad, her voice reserved.
I tried to keep my head very steady. To avoid throwing up on her as much as to notsay the wrong thing while I parsed out the words. “I hear you, and I understand you, but I don’t see the reason behind it. Why can’t you?”
“I just can’t. Please, Az, you’ve declared an intention here, one I won’t be able to be along with you for.”
I propped my hand against my forehead, supporting the weight of my head. Not an inconsiderable weight, regardless of the size of my ego, since the horns tend to add more than the average human skull all by themselves.
I didn’t really know what to say here. “You mean you don’t want me to go, don’t you? You just can’t bring yourself to try to dissuade me directly?”
“No, that’s no it at all, Az. Please. What you’ve said, of course I want it to stop. But does it have to be you? Why must you do this?” She was pleading with me. How could she ask me this? This was the meaning of my reason for even being in this world.
“Look, Kineta, I understand it’s a frightening thing. But I don’t have a choice here. The Ruby Lord wants me dead regardless of what I want. More than that, he wants my soul destroyed. I’m a threat to him, however insignificant. How can I not? Even if that weren’t the case, who else will do this? I wouldn’t have a choice regardless. Someone has to stop the two sides, get them to fight their battles elsewhere.”
She leaned back, suddenly serious. “What you just said, did you mean that?”
“What? Of course I did. Look, I would love to just squirrel off with you and ride out the end of this conflict, leave it to someone else. But if I don’t get involved, and do what I can to stop it, who will?”
“I wish it hadn’t happened like this,” she said. She looked down at the ground between us. “I…”
I grabbed her arm, gently. “I know this is going to come out wrong, but please don’t second-guess how you feel. Just feel it. I love you, Kineta, and when this is all over, I swear to you we can get married, and do all those things we hinted at these last few months. Life, a nice place to live, all that. But I have to do this. I couldn’t sit by, knowing that regardless of how our lives were lived, that in the end you, me, our children, our friends, everyone we know is destined to be destroyed. That’s so revolting to me, I can’t begin to tell you. I won’t live that lie.”
She watched me while I said these things, and I realized as I was saying them that a dark, burning rage built inside me just at the thought of it all. To think that she, Lotonna, Nemmy, all these people around me, even Sered might end up as nothing more than fodder for some demon or fuel for an infernal engine, my arms trembled with the desire to rip something to shreds.
“So you’re decided, then?” She asked quietly.
I nodded. “I wish it were some other way, and I completely understand if you don’t want me to do this, but understand me please – I have to.”
“Okay. Rest, then. You’re getting worked up about this, and I don’t want you setting the forest here on fire.” The corner of her mouth crooked up in a little grin. “I’m hungry.”
I leaned back, nodding. Closed my eyes and tried to follow her instructions.
I must have got some kind of sleep, because when I woke twilight was in the air again. Lotonna must have knocked me a good one, I suppose. I realized after a few seconds that Nemmy was sitting on a little stool beside me, feet dangling, not quite reaching the ground.
“How you doing, Nem?” I sat up again. No urge to blow chunks, good.
“Good, Az. Nothing leaked, and I tried with a lot of beer.” He patted his considerable gut, the bandages still showing behind his jerkin. “Got to tell you something, here.”
“Hmm?” I looked up at him. His face seemed greyer than usual, and for a second I thought maybe his injuries were worse than he let on.
“Your friends will be here soon, Az.” He looked around the campsite. “Lotta things are going to happen, soon. She said to tell you, she’s sorry she can’t be along with you.”
“She told you about our talk?”
He affirmed with a bob of his head.
“I know she doesn’t want me to go, if she sent you to try to convince me, Nem, I don’t know what you’re going to sa…”
He held up a hand. “No, it’s you that doesn’t understand, Az. She wants you to go. She wants you to win your fight. But she’s right – she can’t come along. You picked a side, and that’s a trigger for her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Here,” he handed me a folded handkerchief. “She can’t pick a side. She asked me to tell you that regardless of how this turns out, she’ll be waiting for you.”
“Where is she?” I looked around, but couldn’t see her. Couldn’t see Lotonna either. “She didn’t get pissed aned leave, did she? Oh for the love of…”
Nemmy slapped me. I sat back, a little shocked and a little surprised at how it rang my bell.
“You’re not listening. She’s gone on ahead, and Lotonna and Horace with her. I’m going in a few moments too. Much as she can’t follow you, you can’t follow us this time. Trust me, Az, I think you’ll understand. But first, you have to remember what I told you. Alright?”
I sat there, watching him. I didn’t say anything, but squinted, trying to understand his meaning.
“Okay, Az. Time for me to leave. It’s been fun, the guys wanted me to say that as well. Horace really liked your whiskey. I hope she’s right, that we do see each other again. And good luck – I’ve got my toes crossed for you.” He hopped down off the stool and walked to the edge of the clearing.
Turning back, he gave a little salute. “See you around, Az. Give ‘em hell.” He snorted a little bit with a smile. “Yeah, give ‘em hell.”
With that, he walked into the woods, and I lost sight of him shortly thereafter. There was a big empty hole in my chest, threatening to pull the rest of me in after it. How could she just leave like that? How could any of them? Why?
Then I remembered the handkerchief. It was still clutched in my hand, smelling faintly of the perfume she bought in the City of Brass that I liked so much. I slowly unwrapped it, pulling back the cotton lace, careful not to damage it.
Within it was a single, long, immaculate black feather.
