Rise of the Isekai Hero 3

A LitRPG Fantasy

Jason Marino

Copyright © 2025 by Royal Guard Publishing LLC

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Chapter One

My High Priestess stood on the dais in the pyramid, rotating in place as she stared up in awe at the hologrammatic sphere depicting Corthos.

“My God,” she said, her inadvertent exclamation making the corners of my mouth curl in amusement. “I’ve never seen magic like this.”

I wasn’t sure it was magic; I had a sneaking suspicion it was technology. But she probably wouldn’t believe me if I told her. Besides, what’s the difference?

Lira held up a hand, fingers together and outstretched, sighting down it to point toward Saromir, and the bright light representing Morvak’s temple. “North of a westerly heading,” she said, “and further than Lorimel. Eight to ten weeks, maybe?”

“As long as that?”

She shrugged. “That’s just a guess, it could be more. It depends on the roads, the weather, how often we need to rest the horses—and us too, for that matter.”

It was difficult to gauge accurate distances from the globe, though we agreed it must be well over a thousand miles. But eight weeks? “We’re running out of time.”

Fang, Drakos’ Lieutenant, had warned us Morvak would attack again in the spring. In as little as two weeks it would be the end of fall. We’d be traveling through winter, which wouldn’t make it any easier. I hoped Morvak would wait until the snows thawed before his army marched, but if we didn’t leave soon and he was in a hurry to invade, we risked getting there only to find they’d already left.

And that would be disastrous.

I knew we had to leave soon, but this was my one chance to further explore the pyramid, trying to better understand the secrets within. Yet in three days I’d made frustrating progress. The disembodied voice of the Watchers had given me only a few answers before resorting to its de facto: ‘We Watch; we give only the answers we wish. Some you need seek yourself.’

I’d long since stopped asking.

Instead, I’d brought Lira along. She assured me her artistry was up to the challenge of map-making, and it had to be better than mine. I might be immortal, able to boost my skills through god-like powers and magical runes, but I couldn’t draw for shit.

“There’s no point taking a map of this,” she said, still staring up at the globe. “A bearing would suffice.”

“Wait a moment.” I crossed to the waist-high marble ring curving around half the dais.

Atop the marble were dozens of inscribed runes, and for lack of a better term, I was calling it the control panel. But I’d since discovered it wasn’t—or not to the extent I’d first thought. Sure, the runes in the center affected the globe, but the remainder did nothing. They weren’t buttons; they couldn’t be activated by touch.

Each rune was incredibly complex, comprising three or four aspects—fire, energy, balance and such. Some of them went further, the aspects carefully presented to form specific gaps between, which in turn formed yet another aspect, showing a bewildering mastery of runic design well in advance of my own understanding.

Not only had I no idea what purpose they served, I didn’t have a clue what any of them did.

But while the runes in the center were meticulously crafted to look like the others, their gaps formed more obvious shapes: arrows, for example, to rotate the sphere in one of eight directions; a large circle to reduce the magnification; a small one to increase it.

I used them now to change our perspective of the globe, drawing Norathil more central and pulling it closer, like zooming in on Google Maps.

Behind me, Lira gasped. “Kaelan, it’s changing!”

I smiled to myself at her innocent wonder. She was no stranger to magic—she had spells of her own—but this pyramid was something else. Not for the first time, I wished I knew who the Watchers were, and where they came from.

“I can bring up a route through to Morvak’s pyramid at any distance you want to see,” I told her as I manipulated the sphere to demonstrate. “What would be the best range for a good map?”

“That’s amazing,” she breathed, watching as I rotated the globe west, toward Saromir. The orange glow of the hologrammatic lights now hinted at forests, mountains and rivers, and even the position of the larger villages. “How far in can you go?”

I pressed the small circle on the control panel, and as I did, it changed from its dormant color of dull orange and lit up in neon blue. The map zoomed in further.

“That’s too far,” Lira said, “but it will great for when we need more detail. Pull back a bit, and I’ll start with this.”

She settled cross-legged on the marble floor, taking parchment, ink, and a quill from her pack, then got comfortable as she began to sketch. The orange light illuminated her beautiful face, giving her an unearthly, ethereal glow.

“We can make maps of the whole route from here,” Lira said as she worked. “Much better to have maps before we start, rather than making them as we go.”

I blinked as her turn of phrase jogged my mind.

This world system had played out like the D&D games I used to run every Friday night. Hell, Lira had summoned me for that very reason—with her Divination power, she’d seen me ‘controlling’ worlds and monsters—or thought she had. I was always telling my players to map as they traveled.

Was it so simple? Had I missed something so obvious?

I focused, concentrating in the way necessary to activate the world system. Show map of Norathil.

Error. No map available.

Damn … and not just because there wasn’t one, but because I figured I knew what that message meant.

Best to check first. List available maps.

Error. No maps available.

Do you have the capability to map?

No response. But then, it had never replied to questions. I’d wondered if it would, now I’d unlocked the voice in the pyramid. No such joy.

Begin mapping.

Mapping is on.

Fuck. Also, good. But mostly fuck.

I could’ve been doing this since day one. I’d have had half of Valorah mapped out by now.

Still, better late than never.

Show map.

A tiny area appeared, the radius maybe ten feet. The dais was carefully drawn, as if with pencil lines, and the control panel was etched in a curve around it.

I gave a sardonic laugh.

Lira glanced up at me with a smile, then turned back to her drawing. “Are you going to distract me?”

“Sorry,” I muttered. I dropped down into a cross-legged posture in preparation to meditate.

“It’s fine,” she said as she focused back on her parchment, her brow furrowing attractively as she concentrated. I watched her for a while. Her quill moved in confident strokes across the page, and occasionally she chewed on her bottom lip. It was cute.

“Still distracting,” she murmured, without looking up. “I can tell you’re staring at me.”

I chuckled and closed my eyes, dropping into my meditation routine.

I’d been using my abilities to draw on the runes in turn, identifying each aspect comprising them. That much, at least, I could do. I’d added another two dozen to my repertoire: arcane, hearing, resistance, perception, strength—and a bunch more besides. Now that I was an Adept Rune Sage of the Astral Weave, I’d even managed to identify two that had stumped me previously: gravity and time. Knowing them was one thing; knowing how to use them was another problem altogether. These weren’t basic aspects but powerful forces that, without care, could do more harm than good.

The last thing I wanted to do was accidentally hurt Lira. Or Senna or Elara, for that matter.

I opened one eye. “Where are the other girls today?”

“Senna said she was going out. I didn’t see Elara. Maybe she’s helping Karina train the troops.” Lira didn’t look up from her parchment.

“Oh, good. How’s that going?”

She glanced at me. “Kaelan?”

“Yes?”

“Quiet. Focusing.”

I grinned and closed my eye again. Lira had come a long way since our first days together, when ‘my God’ was her default form of address for me and appeared every other sentence. Instead, our bond had grown through familiarity and love. I was still her god, but she kept that to more formal occasions. Or when I managed to surprise her.

I focused on my meditation, losing track of time.

“Rotate the map, please?” Lira’s request brought me back to the present.

“Sure,” I said, rising.

It was only a few presses on the control panel to turn the globe onward to the next stage of our journey. I settled back down again, getting comfortable as I tried to focus on my meditation.

But my mind was elsewhere. I was itching to leave. It wasn’t just the journey time—eight weeks on horseback—but the fact that Saromir was a hostile country, and one preparing for war. We’d be travelling in the height of winter, across harsh terrain. Every Saromiran tribe we encountered was a potential threat, unless the Saromiran clothing we’d obtained enabled us to pass for natives.

Thalor, my steward, has sourced what we needed—a hardened leather jerkin and a fur cloak for me, and thick, woolen kirtles for the girls. I knew they’d hate them. Senna would have to forego her traditional leathers, and Elara wouldn’t be able to wear her paladin armor. But female warriors were not part of Saromiran culture, and we needed to blend in.

At least Valorah and Saromir shared a common tongue, but we’d have to mind our accents. The girls sounded like Valorans, and I … well, I didn’t think many Americans visited Saromir this time of year.

“I’m done with this part,” Lira said, interrupting my thoughts. “Can you rotate it more into Saromir, and make it larger?”

“Larger as in zoom in?” I asked as I got up for the control panel.

“Er … Yes. Zoom in.” She hesitated as she used the unfamiliar word, but nodded as I changed the scale of the sphere to reveal more details. She pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, and I went back to my meditation.

We sat in easy silence, enjoying each other’s company as the time ticked slowly by. I changed the orientation of the sphere a few times, and the stack of completed maps beside Lira slowly grew.

I watched her as she started a new page. Her blonde hair was tied in a loose ponytail, but a few bangs hung around the sides of her lovely face. Her green eyes were captivating; I could stare at them for hours.

“Distracting,” she murmured, but smiled at me.

“I just like looking at you. Do you know you’re beautiful?”

A touch of color tinged her cheeks, and she lowered her eyes. “Thank you, my God.”

“No need to thank me when it’s true.”

“Elara is more beautiful than I.”

“No,” I said, not even needing to consider it. “You’re all beautiful, but in different ways.” It was true. Senna was sassy and provocative, which was part of her beauty. Elara was tall and serene. Lira was more open, always ready with a warm smile. Whichever way you cut it, I was a very lucky man. God.

Lira frowned as she worked on her parchment. “I’m worried about her.”

“Senna?” She had a habit of getting herself into trouble, but of late she also had the skills to get herself out of it. I was less concerned than I had been in the past.

“No, Elara. She’s been different since Talene melded with her.”

“She’s still her, though.” I tried to reassure Lira, but I shared her fears. When Elara had used Talene’s artifact in the fight against Drakos, it had melded with her. Only after the fact did we learn that Talene’s spirit remained within it, and now Elara was playing host to the ancient demigod. We still weren’t quite sure what that meant.

“She’s not just her,” Lira murmured. “She’s Talene too.” She gave a sigh. “She’s been more distant since they… merged.”

Lira wasn’t wrong. But Elara had said it would take time to acclimatize, and I knew my paladin was strong.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “She has a lot to work through. We’ll help her with it.”

“Of course we will,” Lira said firmly. “Still … she’s Talene, too. It feels odd to have to get to know her all over again. And when you’d just brought her into our family, too.”

I knew what she meant. Elara had been around for months, but it was only in the few days before Lorimel that she’d finally come out from behind her carefully built walls, and let me see her unveiled. Both figuratively and literally.

Yet now Elara wasn’t just Elara, but Talene too. We hadn’t been intimate since she’d melded with the artifact; I was giving her the space she needed to adjust.

Lira’s brow furrowed as she made some more marks on her parchment. “Talene’s artifact was capable of banishing Sharlath,” she said, referring to the Spider God that Talene had defeated centuries before. “Do you think it still holds such power?”

The same thought had occurred to me. “Maybe Talene’s power isn’t as strong as it once was. Drakos failed when he tried it on me, but Talene never found him ‘worthy’.” The legends of the artifact made a point about the worthiness of the finder, and it transpired Drakos didn’t qualify. No surprise there. “But she thinks Elara is.”

Lira nodded and then looked up at me, concern in her gaze. “If Talene suddenly decides she doesn’t like you, for any reason…” She trailed off, letting the implicit threat hang in the air.

I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s a concern. At least, not at present.” I couldn’t explain to her that Elara was showing on my character sheet as a companion; the mechanics of the world system were known only to me. And, presumably, to Morvak, who was another ‘god’ like I was—summoned from some far-off realm. Maybe even Earth.

“What about banishing Morvak?”

That idea had been the focus of my thoughts. I still had no clue how to kill an immortal god, but if Morvak was banished, surely that would suffice?

“Elara could be key,” I said carefully. “But Talene would have to cooperate. Sharlath threatened the whole of Corthos; Morvak simply threatens me. She might not see it the same way.”

“Morvak doesn’t just threaten you. He threatens Valorah, too.”

“I think Morvak is coming for Valorah because he wants me.” I gave a small shrug. “He’ll probably leave our country alone if I give myself up to him.” It was another thought I’d had. Plenty of time to think during the long journey back from Lorimel.

“Don’t you dare,” Lira said quickly. “We can defeat him, Kaelan. Even without Talene’s help. We took down Drakos, didn’t we?”

There was a world of difference between killing Drakos and stopping a god of unknown power with an army at his back. But I had just been considering options; I wasn’t ready to be defeatist. “Don’t worry. We’ll try everything before I consider that option.”

Lira looked at me for a long moment, worry in her eyes, then pushed her quill back into her ink pot. “I could use a break. Feels like I’ve been going for hours.” She pressed her hands to her hips and arched her back, stretching.

I knew she was just changing the subject, but also, she wasn’t wrong. “You have,” I said, pulling up the world clock in my display. “Wow, it’s past seven.” The day had slipped past.

Lira raised an eyebrow at me. “How do you always know the exact time?”

I gave a small shrug and a smile. “God⁠—”

“—God things, yes I know.” Lira answered her own question even as I spoke, then shook her head. “No wonder I’m so hungry.” She reached into her bag. “I brought this for lunch, but we seem to have missed that,” she said as she pulled out bread and cheese, carefully wrapped in linen. “Do you want to eat here, or head back?”

I glanced at the pallet in the corner, where I’d spent the previous night. I would prefer the comforts of the palace—some hot food and a bath—but each day that passed brought us closer to spring, and Morvak’s invasion. I needed the maps done, and to get through the rest of these runes. Then we needed to get going, before it was too late.

Lira had seen the direction of my gaze. She gave me a reassuring smile. “It’s all right. We can eat here, then I’ll get back to work.” She began to tear up the bread. “Another few hours and we’ll have a full set of maps, but I might need tomorrow to get all that done.”

“You can stay here if you want to,” I said, biting into the bread and cheese she gave me. It was the first food I’d had in two days, and it tasted amazing. I’d been so preoccupied with the runes, I’d forgotten to eat.

Lira eyed the blankets dubiously. “There’s a tradeoff between cuddling with you, and not having a bath back at the castle.”

I chuckled. “It’s fine, you can head out.”

“Are you staying?”

“Yes. I still have more runes to get through.” Though not too many, hopefully.

Lira nodded. “Then I’ll stay too. I can do some more on the maps before we get some sleep.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Just sleep?”

She gave me a flat stare back. “I love you more than life itself, my God, but yes. Just sleep.” She sniffed delicately. “There’s no bath here and, well … you need one.”

“Fair.” I knew she wasn’t wrong, but it hadn’t been a priority. Still, maybe there was a solution to that.

Lira looked on with growing interest as I pulled my boots off, then got up and disrobed. She ran her eyes over me as I stood naked in the middle of the cavern. “What are you doing? Not that I’m objecting to the view, mind you.”

“Experimenting.”

I pulled the water rune into my mind’s eye, then projected it a few feet above my head. Magic was all about intent, and I very carefully told it what I wanted—a waterfall. Then I fed it a trickle of mana. I could add more if I needed, but it was better to have a leaky faucet than accidentally wash us both away with a tidal wave.

But I got the flow about right first time, and was doused in a powerful shower of icy water.

“Fuck, that’s cold,” I gasped, quickly cutting off my mana. The water streamed out across the floor of the pyramid, then disappeared as the magic faded, as if it had never existed. The marble wasn’t even wet. I couldn’t create permanent effects, and that was advantageous in this instance.

Lira slowly ran her eyes over me. “This is fun to watch, but you’ll need more than that to get clean.”

I gave her a look. I wasn’t done yet; that had just been the first try.

My Astral Weave path allowed me to blend different runic aspects together, and I hadn’t had much of an opportunity to test it out. But I’d learned the hard way that it was better to experiment when it wasn’t a life-or-death situation, and this provided the perfect opportunity.

“Keep back,” I muttered. “I don’t want to scald you if this goes wrong.”

Again I focused on my water rune, but this time I added my fire aspect. I’d used it once before, to heat a bath for Senna, but never with another rune like this. I wasn’t sure what would happen: boiling water, a torrent of flame and water both, or a failure as the water manifested too quickly to heat.

I carefully focused my intent—a warm waterfall—and trickled my magic in once more.

Luke-warm water gushed down on me, and I grinned at my success. But I cut the spray off, then tried again. I wanted it warmer still, and more like a shower than the feeling of a powerful hosepipe directed down onto my head.

It took me a few tries, but eventually, I finally managed to reproduce with magic something I’d taken for granted through technology: a working shower.

Lira had drawn closer as I’d worked, and now she held her hand beneath the spray. “It’s warm!”

“Oh, I’ve been missing a hot shower,” I said with a contented sigh, tilting my head back and closing my eyes as I let the spray soak through hair. It reminded me I needed to get it cut. My beard too, come to that. I didn’t have any soap, but I could feel the pressure of the water doing a lot of the work. My mana was slowly depleting as I maintained the runes, but I had more than enough for a nice long shower.

Then Lira’s soft, warm body pressed against mine. It hadn’t taken her long to divest herself of her garments.

“This has to be the most godly thing you’ve ever done,” she said, her full breasts pressing into my chest. I opened my eyes to see her smiling mischievously up at me.

Creating water out of nothing? Maybe she was only half-joking.

Chapter Two

Hunger brought us out of the pyramid late afternoon the following day.

Lira had mapped large swathes of Saromir, as well as a fair amount of the city where we knew we would find Morvak’s pyramid, and I’d finished going through all the runes, adding another five aspects. All the runes in the pyramid were different combinations of aspects I now knew.

After four days in the pyramid, I had all I needed, and we were ready to leave. Tomorrow. For tonight, dinner. And a haircut.

“Shame that Senna won’t get to enjoy your new shower,” Lira said as we walked, clinging onto my arm.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think Thalor would be very happy if you flooded the palace.”

“Ah,” I said. It was a good point. “The water disappears,” I reminded her.

“It will make one hell of a mess first.”

“Well, we’ll be on the road for weeks. Plenty of time to use it while we travel.”

“True.” Lira pressed herself against my arm. “Saromir is bitterly cold in winter. A hot shower on demand will make all the difference.” She gave a contented sigh. “I love being married to my god.”

“Have you ever been there?” I asked.

“No, but traders used to go in all the time—before the invasion.”

“How cold does it get?”

“Cold enough that the snow is too deep to wade through, and your fingers and toes drop off.” She gave a small shrug against me. “Or so I hear. Might just be stories.”

“Too cold for horses?”

“Maybe. Valerie would know better.”

Valerie was my chancellor, and a ranger. Lira was right; if anyone could tell us, Valerie could.

“We’ll ask her when we get back.” We walked through the temple complex courtyard and through the gate with the flags of Norathil flying above us. I slipped my arm around Lira’s waist and pulled her in against me. “Thank you.”

She smiled up at me. “What for?”

“We just walked through the courtyard, and I just realized that for the first time, I wasn’t thinking about the dozens of times Drakos killed me on the sand, but the ceremony with Elara, and announcing that you and Senna were my wives.” I gave her a squeeze. “I’m not sure I ever properly thanked you for setting that up.”

“You thanked me that night. I could hardly ride the next day.”

“That was your choice. The way I recall it, Senna asked you for some healing, and you said you didn’t want to suffer alone.” I chuckled. “Sadistic.”

Lira gave me a smile, then sobered. “Am I right to be worried about Senna going shopping alone?”

“Shopping?” I tensed. “You didn’t say she’d been shopping.”

We took a few paces in silence, both contemplating the horror that was an unchecked Senna.

“Where did she get the money?” Lira mused.

“That’s what I was just wondering.”

“The treasury is locked, right?”

“Of course. Thalor has the key.”

“Thalor has the key?” Lira said in alarm. “Oh crap. I thought Valerie had it.”

“What difference does it make?”

“Thalor can’t defend himself against Senna. She’d have him eating out of her hand in seconds.”

I winced. “How much damage could she really do?” I asked, trying to convince myself this wasn’t as bad as it sounded. “I mean, what is there to buy around here?”

“This is Senna we’re talking about.”

We walked a bit faster.

“She’s had two days,” I said after a while. “It’s a bit late to worry.”

“I suppose,” Lira said slowly.

“What does the city really need money for anyway?”

“Militia salaries … construction … charity … funding the army…”

“I suppose.” I chuckled. “Well, Norathil might now be penniless, but at least Senna will be happy.”

With his uncanny sense of knowing as soon as I returned, Thalor walked out of the keep to meet us in the castle courtyard.

“Welcome home, Sire,” he said with a bow. “Dinner can be ready in half an hour. Would you like it in the great hall, or in your rooms?”

“You have your own god-like magic, my friend,” I said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

The old retainer cleared his throat. “You’re too kind, Sire. It’s nothing but my duty.”

“Are Senna and Elara here?” I asked.

“Colonel Senna is in your rooms, Sire. I have not seen Lady Elara.”

“And the treasury?” Lira murmured delicately.

Thalor fought to keep his face impassive. That it actually took him an effort, for once, told much of the story. “Er … a little reduced, my Lady, but in a good cause.”

“If Senna is in our rooms, that’s where we’ll take the food, please,” I said, and Lira and I went to find her.

I opened the door to our room, and Senna was kneeling in the corner in her trademark black leathers, facing away. But she rose and turned with surprising speed, her hands sliding guiltily behind her back.

“Kaelan!” she cried as she saw me.

Two fragments of what had once been a plant pot fell to the carpet behind her as she crossed the room quickly, flinging her arms around my neck and pressing herself against me. I staggered back a pace with the momentum of her impact.

Behind her, the small table that usually sat in the corner was lying on its side, one leg dismembered. The plant pot was in shattered pieces on the floor, earth spilling out onto the cream carpet. The wall showed signs of her exuberance too: several chunks were missing behind where the plant pot usually stood.

“Have you been practicing your Shadow Knives?” I asked dryly.

“Oh.” She gave a breathless laugh and leaned back in my arms. “Not really. I was just … filling the time.”

“With wanton destruction?” Lira said, stepping in after me and closing the door.

“It was a hideous plant pot anyway,” Senna said. Then she bounced against me, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. “I bought you a present!”

She spun away from me, crossing to the small table near our chairs, which was luckily still intact. On it lay a long object, wrapped carefully in a purple cloth. Senna gathered it up and returned to us, her smile as big as ever.

She proffered the object to me with both hands. “Go on!”

Working to temper my grin at her exuberance, I took it from her, and it was heavier than I expected. The cloth was untied and fell away easily, revealing a pair of matching swords, each in an exquisitely crafted hardened leather scabbard.

“Wow,” I said, handing Senna back one of the pair so that I could better examine the other. “These are beautiful.”

She grinned in delight, nearly bouncing on her toes with her excitement. “They’re Saromiran,” she explained. “I found them in the weapons shop. You know, the one by the jewelers? They’re magic.”

“What’s magic?” Lira asked as she walked past, setting her bag down at the foot of the bed. “The jewelers, or the weapons shop?”

Senna made a face at her. “The swords, of course.” She glanced back at me. “They are magic, aren’t they? He told me they were.” Her face clouded and a hint of a scowl emerged. “I told him you’d know, and if they weren’t, I’d be back for my money.”

I grinned at her. “I’m sure they are.”

Drawing the blade revealed a straight, double-edged sword, in the Saromiran style. It was roughly the length of my arm from shoulder to fingertips, about thirty inches, ten inches shorter than the rapier I wore on my hip. But with a pair of them, replacing the dagger I typically used in my offhand, it would more than make up for the loss of reach.

For a while I’d been considering switching to dual-wielding swords, and these blades would blend in perfectly with our Saromiran disguises.

“This is great,” I said, feeling it’s balance. The blade was wider than my broad-bladed rapier, but like that weapon, it was designed for both cutting and thrusting. I wouldn’t have to change my style too much to accommodate it—once I’d gotten used to the different length.

I focused. Show sword stats.

Weapon: Saromiran sword. Type: Sword. Quality: Magic +2. Attack 7. Speed 8. Keen edge, crit +10%, puncturing.

“Wow,” I said again. “Yes, it’s magic, and powerful, too.”

Senna gave Lira an ‘I told you so’ look.

The sword was the strongest magical item I’d seen so far. I wondered how much Senna had paid for it, but it would be churlish to ask. Besides, we were off to save Valorah—surely that was worth a contribution from the treasury. “It’s one hell of a blade. Are they both the same?”

“They’re matching,” Senna said, offering me the hilt of the other one as she held the scabbard.

I drew the second blade and took a guard, feeling the weight of them both together. It felt odd having the longer weapon in my offhand, but they were so well balanced it wouldn’t take long to make the transition. Especially with my Sword skill at 38, lending its assistance.

I gave them a practice twirl, impressed at their quality.

Show sword stats.

Weapon: Saromiran sword. Type: Sword. Quality: Magic +1. Attack 7. Speed 8. Keen edge, crit +10%.

The second weapon wasn’t quite the equal of the first, but it was comparable to the rapier I’d been using. A touch stronger on Attack; a little slower on Speed. But with my rune magic and God Power, speed was never a problem.

I gave Senna a smile. “These are absolutely perfect. I don’t know how you found them, but they’re exactly what I need. Thank you.”

She stepped in close and kissed me, and I wrapped my arms around her, both hands full of my new weapons. “I owed you for my dagger,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to find something suitable for a while.”

“Couldn’t be better timed,” I said. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Oh, good,” Senna said, then made a face. “Have you seen the dresses Thalor found?”

“No, we’ve been in the pyramid.”

“Well, they’re hideous.” She slipped out of my arms and walked to a package that lay open on the cushioned divan. I caught a glimpse of a hardened leather jerkin and black woolen travel cloaks before Senna pulled out another of the garments, holding it up for us to see.

It was a long, ankle-length dress, flared to allow ease of movement, with a very modest neckline and made of thick gray wool. It wasn’t Senna’s style at all, but Lira might not mind so much. She often favored simple peasant garments, though she preferred trousers to skirts.

“It’s not so bad,” I said, trying not to laugh at Senna’s expression. “And we do have to blend in.”

“Can’t I just wear my leathers?” she said, throwing the dress down in disgust. “I’d have a cloak over the top.”

Lira wandered over to inspect the dress Senna had dropped. “We have to travel through the whole country to reach Morvak’s temple. It would be far easier to do that looking like Saromirans.”

“But where am I going to put my daggers?”

I cocked my head, regarding my cute assassin. She had two blades strapped to her waist, one of which was the magical stiletto I’d taken from Marisa, Drakos’ necromancer. Two more jutted from her boots.

“That dress is so long it would cover your trousers,” I said. “I don’t see why you couldn’t wear it over them, and perhaps cut slits in the side for access to your weapons.” I shrugged. “It’ll be cold enough that you might appreciate the extra layers.”

Senna nodded thoughtfully. “That could work. And with a few more slits in the hem, I’d be able to move as I needed.”

“Not too many,” Lira said as she inspected the kirtle. “Can’t risk showing your leathers.”

Senna scowled at her, then glanced at me. “Have you told Elara she’s wearing these?”

“Er … not yet.” I wasn’t too concerned. My paladin would likely take it in her stoic stride—or she would have, before Talene. It was difficult to predict how she would react now. “It’ll be more about where she hides her sword.”

“Good point,” Senna said. “I have my daggers and Lira has her staff. Elara won’t be happy without her sword.”

“We’ll discuss it when she’s back from the barracks,” I said. “For now, Lira and I are starving. Thalor is bringing up dinner. Have you eaten?”

“No,” Senna replied. “I was waiting for you.”

After dinner, Lira had helped me tame the wilds of my hair and beard, then we joined Thalor and Valerie in the great hall, where the map of Valorah was laid out on the table. A second map depicting what was known of Saromir lay alongside, with a goblet marking the approximate location of Morvak’s pyramid, far to the northwest.

“Two practical options,” Lira said, gesturing at the map with a table knife. “We could ride west for Faronis, cross into Saromir and turn northwest. But that would mean crossing this mountain range.” She pointed with her knife. “Or we could head for Lakeside” —she prodded the map on the border town marked west of Lorimel, far to the north of where we were— “and cut in west from there.”

Morvak’s pyramid, and the city it was in, was roughly on the same latitude as Lorimel and Lakeside, but deep into enemy territory.

“Lakeside makes more sense,” I said. “Half the journey would be in Valorah.”

“True,” Lira said, “but there aren’t many roads from here to there, so unless we want to go across country, the best route would be up to Lorimel and west from there. Two sides of the triangle. It’s longer.”

I made a face. We didn’t have time for ‘longer’. “Why do we need to cross the border there? Can’t we travel as the crow flies?”

“Unfortunately not,” she said. “It’s what Drakos did when he came in, but he crossed about here” —she put her fork on the western border, halfway between Faronis and Lakeside— “and rode straight for Norathil. But to do that, he crossed over the mountains, and it wasn’t winter.” She shook her head. “This time of year, it would be too risky.”

“The horses wouldn’t survive it, Sire,” Valerie added. “Saromiran beasts are bred for their winters. Ours are not. Then there’s avalanches, the lack of available food, ice giants⁠—”

“Ice giants?” So far in Corthos, I’d only seen a single pack of goblins and a few half-elves—one of which sat across the table from me. Part of me was eager to meet more of the fantastic creatures that were rumored to walk this land.

“Horrible beasts,” Valerie said. “They stand ten or twelve feet tall, with blue skin the sharpest sword can’t penetrate, and throw rocks and ice with deadly accuracy.”

“Have you ever seen one?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, thank Sharl—er… thank the gods.”

I chuckled. “I don’t mind which gods’ names you take.” But I was disappointed she hadn’t seen a giant. I did wonder if it was just another ghost story, or whether such monsters even existed. “So, up to Lorimel and across to Lakeside.”

Lira nodded. “It’s long, but the roads are good and it’s safest.”

“How long?”

Lira considered. “Three weeks to Lorimel. Another three to Lakeside, if the weather holds. More if it doesn’t. Then four from there to the stronghold, assuming we can make good time.” She shrugged. “I have no idea what to expect once we get into Saromir, but Elara might know. She’s spent hours studying the maps in the monastery.”

“We can ask her when she gets back,” I said, distracted. Her earlier assessment of eight weeks had become ten. We had less time than I thought. “Spring is what … twelve weeks?”

Valerie waggled her head. “Fourteen, maybe, to the first buds blooming. At least in Lorimel and Lakeside. Here, in Norathil, twelve is more accurate.”

“Too close,” I muttered. “We risk passing Morvak’s army on the march.”

“I don’t think they would leave their city that early, Kaelan,” Lira said, frowning at the map. “I know Fang said, ‘in the spring,’ but I think they wouldn’t march until spring arrived—not aim to hit Valorah—Lakeside, say—in fourteen weeks’ time.” She gave a little shrug. “It would still be winter, and Saromir is a harsh land. I think, if we were there within ten or twelve weeks, we’d catch them before they left.”

“We can sink a blade into him just as easily when he’s with his army,” Senna said. She was sitting at the end of the table, playing with one of her daggers, and only half-listening.

“We’d have to get through his army to reach him,” I said. “And besides, I need to gain access to his pyramid to learn his weaknesses.” I let out a sigh. “We should’ve left straight away.” I was regretting the days I’d spent in the pyramid, but it had seemed necessary at the time. “It is what it is. Let’s hope we can make good speed.”

“The route via Faronis is shorter,” Valerie said tentatively. “You might make it to Morvak’s pyramid a week sooner.”

“Yet we’d spend twice as long in Saromiran territory,” I said.

“True.” The ranger nodded. “It’s a greater risk.”

“We have our disguises,” Lira said.

“But we don’t know what the roads will be like.”

“The magical sphere showed roads,” Lira argued. “The going might be good.”

“What magical sphere?” Senna perked up.

“But we don’t know what state they’ll be in,” I said, responding to Lira. “There’s no way of knowing whether they’ll even be passable in mid-winter.”

Lira nodded. “It’s a shame we don’t have time to track down a trader that might be able to tell us.”

“Hello? Magical sphere?” Senna said.

“There’s a sphere inside the pyramid that shows the whole of Corthos,” I said offhandedly. I didn’t want that to be common knowledge, but at least I could trust all those who were present.

“Oh, cool,” Senna said, leaning back in her chair, her curiosity assuaged. Valerie was staring at me open-mouthed, and even Thalor’s usually impassive face showed astonishment.

“All right,” I said wearily. “We have a plan. We’ll leave early tomorrow, and hope the weather is kind. For now, we should get some rest.”

“I will have provisions ready for you, Sire,” Thalor said.

“And I’ll be up early to see to your horses,” Valerie added.

I nodded to them both. “Seems we’ve hardly been back home before we’re off again, and I appreciate all you’ve both done.”

“And we appreciate what you are doing, Your Holy Majesty,” Valerie said formally. “The fate of Valorah rests on the outcome of this.”

Great. Way to remind us all of the pressure. As if I could possibly have forgotten.

I nodded with as much confidence as I could muster. “We’ll make it in time, and when we do, we’ll stop Morvak.” Somehow. “No army will be marching on Valorah next year.”

With that, I took Senna and Lira back up to our rooms, leaving Thalor and Valerie to finish preparing for our trip.

It was late, and Elara still wasn’t back. I could’ve done with her input tonight, but after merging with Talene, she had been more distant. Since we came back from Lorimel, it seemed she’d spent all her time at the barracks, helping train the troops. Or maybe it was simpler than that; maybe it was Karina and the knights whose company she needed. She was sleeping there, too; she hadn’t shared our bed in days.

I wasn’t going to push her. If she needed more time, I would give it to her. There was no rush. We’d have weeks on the road together; surely that would give us the opportunity to re-grow our bond.

I collapsed into bed between the girls, and they were asleep in moments, pressed on either side of me.

But despite the lateness of the hour and the early start the following morning, I lay awake.

My mind was still full of questions, and the greatest of those was the one I still had no answer to:

How could I stop an immortal god?

Chapter Three

We were up early the following morning to help Thalor pack our horses with our tent, provisions, and the spare clothes we’d need. Valerie was already in the courtyard with three horses she’d chosen for their endurance, while several stablehands were holding torches, providing the light she needed to check their tack.

She turned, eyeing us critically. I wore my normal leather trousers, but had replaced my usual leather jacket with one of the sleeveless hardened leather jerkins favored by Saromirans. For warmth, I wore a thick linen shirt beneath it, and a heavy woolen travelling cloak with a hood. The new blades Senna had given me came with leather harnesses to wear them either strapped to my back, over my cloak, or belted around my waist. Remembering that Fang had worn his on his back, I’d opted for that style. It would be easier for riding, too.

The girls were dressed in their kirtles and cloaks, and would be warm enough even if Senna was still grumbling about Saromiran fashion.

Valerie nodded in approval, watching us approach. “You look the part, Sire.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Where’s Elara’s warhorse? We can get that ready too.”

“It’s not here, Sire,” she said, “She can’t have come back last night.”

“She must have stayed at the barracks.” Perhaps she needed more space than I gave her credit for, and that was concerning. “We need her here now. Can you send a man?”

“I have. He left a few minutes ago.”

“Good,” I said, distracted with my concern for Elara. It would take an hour for him to get there and another to return with my paladin—assuming she was already up and ready—and the delay was irritating. “Well, let’s make ready. We can leave as soon as she arrives.”

With many hands to help, it didn’t take long to pack the horses up. With plenty of time left to kill, we returned to the castle for breakfast, fueling up on bacon, bread, and cheeses ahead of the long journey we had.

When we were finished, we still had time to kill before Elara arrived, and I started to think through what we’d forgotten to pack.

“Do you have everything?” I asked the girls.

“All I need is spare clothes and my staff,” Lira said. “Thalor has seen to the rest.”

“Sharp, pointy things for stabbing into Morvak: check,” Senna added. “Oh, and I packed the book you found me.”

I glanced at her. “That’s good thinking.” Ravion, the head librarian, had acquired for us a book on assassin skills and abilities, and it had been useful on our last trip to Lorimel; Senna had leveled, and added her Smoke Bomb ability while we were on the road.

I switched my gaze to Lira, contemplating. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before, but we’ve just got time before Elara gets back.” I stood. “Come on, let’s go and see if the largest library in Valorah stocks anything useful for the most beautiful High Priestess in the country.”

Lira smiled at me. “I’m the only High Priestess in the country.”

“That makes you the ugliest one, too,” Senna added helpfully.

Lira rolled her eyes. “I don’t think Senna deserves hot showers.”

“What’s a hot shower?” Senna asked, as we wandered back outside.

We left the horses that were packed and ready, and took three others for the short ride to the library, fitting them with bridles and not bothering with saddles. The sky was lightening slowly, showing heavy gray clouds, and a steady drizzle began that threatened to dampen our spirits as well as our cloaks. But I was excited about the journey ahead, and it would take more than a little rain to put me off.

I hoped Ravion was an early riser, but the elderly scholar practically lived in the library. He was already at work when we arrived, and one of his staff showed us through to him.

“Your Majesty,” Ravion said with a bow. “I heard you were back. Our progress is slow, I’m afraid, but I do have some good news for you.”

In the excitement of hunting down Drakos and exploring the secrets of the temple, I’d all but forgotten I’d asked him to investigate the runes I’d shared with him.

“Great timing,” I said. “I’m afraid I’m leaving again today, but I’m keen to see what you have.”

He turned to one of the librarians, who was dressed like Ravion in a simple white robe. “Fetch the runes, please.” The librarian bowed and walked off swiftly. “We have had two successes, Your Majesty. Do you recall the rune I hoped would aid your meditation?”

“Yes … combining aspects of serenity, patience, focus, and mind?” After going through the runes in the pyramid, they were all aspects now in my repertoire.

“Indeed. Well, we do believe it will make your meditation more effective, but that is not its primary purpose.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a regenerative rune, Your Majesty. One of my scholars named it the ‘Rune of Tranquility’. It is designed to help the user restore their inner mental energy.”

“Interesting,” I said thoughtfully. I wondered if that was just the mental equivalent of a warm bath and a massage, or whether it would actually restore some of the mana I’d used that day. Given its complexity and the number of aspects involved in using it, I hoped for the latter. Meditation took a while to be effective, so it wouldn’t be something I could use in a fight, but if I could use it to restore the mana I’d spent, it would be valuable indeed.

The librarian Ravion had sent off returned with a sheath of parchments bound loosely together, and he flipped a few pages until the rune we’d been discussing was shown. He pulled it free of the bindings and handed it to me. “This shows the alignment needed, Your Majesty, although I regret I do not know how you would use this in practical terms. Perhaps it needs to be inscribed on the walls of a meditative room?”

“You don’t need to worry about that, my friend,” I said, carefully folding the parchment and tucking it beneath my leather jerkin. “You mentioned two successes?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Ravion turned the pages again, pulling another sheet free of the binder. “This one we are also certain of. We called it the ‘Willwind’ rune. As you can see, it combines wind, power, the mind again, and agility.”

“Intriguing,” I said, looking at the rune. The aspects of wind, power and agility were obvious, but the mind aspect was missing. I glanced at Ravion, wondering if he had made a mistake.

“The mental aspect is between the depiction of wind and agility,” he murmured, anticipating my question.

I looked again, and sure enough, the gap in the center of the rune did look something like the mind aspect. “Very clever. What does it do?”

“Well, we’re reasonably certain it would improve the user’s speed, agility and thinking. It might even help protect against mental manipulations.”

I grinned. “I could make use of that.” It was a significant upgrade to my movement rune, though the four aspects comprising it would make it a challenge to use. “I think you named it well.”

Ravion bowed, pleased. “That’s all I have for now, Your Majesty. We will keep working through the rest of the repository.”

“Repository?”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “Yes, Your Majesty. Do you not think that is an appropriate word? You have brought us a trove of forgotten knowledge, arcane magic the likes of which I have never seen before. I assumed it was from a repository of some kind.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right, Ravion.” I’d wondered what purpose the runes served, given that none of them were related to the sphere. Even the central ones that controlled the map did that only as a secondary purpose. Maybe the runes served no explicit purpose, and it was just a repository, as Ravion had said: a record of the power of those that had built the pyramid.

Beside me, Lira caught my eye, and I focused on the main reason we’d come. “Do you recall the book you found for Senna?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I hope it was of use.”

“It was, thank you. I’m after something similar, but this time for Lira.”

Ravion turned to my High Priestess with a smile that lightened his wrinkled face. “Ah. Divine spells and rituals?”

Lira gave him a gentle smile, even though I could tell she thought this was a waste of time. “I don’t suppose you have such a tome.”

“I think, actually, we do, my Lady. Most of our religious texts are studies on Sharlath, and a few other ancient gods. But if memory serves…” He trailed off and waved over the man who had brought the sheath of rune parchments, who had been standing discreetly nearby. “Fetch the Tome of Faith.”

Lira’s attention piqued, and she glanced at me, surprise in her eyes. “I didn’t know it was possible to learn spells from a book.”

“How did you learn your other spells?” I asked her.

“My healing … I practiced on injuries, learning to channel my magic the way all priests do.”

I recalled Aratus had told me as much. “And your Hammer of Justice?”

Her lips twitched at the reminder of the name I’d given it. “I just got … angry.”

That would do it, I supposed.

Maybe she couldn’t learn spells from a book the way Senna could learn abilities, but it didn’t hurt to try. We could take it with us and see if there was anything of use; there’d be many evenings in camp to read it over the coming weeks.

Ravion’s man returned soon with a hefty-looking book, but one that would still fit in a saddlebag. Just.

Lira took it from him and flicked quickly through. There were only a hundred or so pages, but the parchment was thick, and the tome weighed a good two or three pounds. The leather cover had a fine residue of dust. Her brow furrowed as she stopped on a page that caught her eye.

“Thank you, Ravion,” I said. “You’ve been a great help. Now, we need to leave. A long journey ahead of us.”

He bowed deeply but stiffly, his age showing. “My honor, Your Majesty.”

I followed Senna out of the library, tugging Lira along behind me. She was still reading the page she’d stopped on, but closed the book quickly as the light rain fell on the pages.

“It’s of interest then?”

“Yes,” she said, tucking it beneath her cloak. “Sorry. I’ll read it later. Elara should be back by now.”

But when we reached the courtyard, there was still no sign of my paladin.

“Weren’t we more than two hours?” I asked, as we dismounted.

Valerie walked out of the stables, grasping the bridle of my mount for me. “My man is back, Sire.” She grimaced. “Lady Elara was not at the barracks, and General Karina says she hasn’t seen her for several days. The general said she thought Lady Elara was with you.”

An icy shiver of foreboding ran down my spine, and I couldn’t help glance at Lira. She was looking at me too, no doubt recalling the same memories: when she’d headed off alone, after Drakos.

“Do you think she’s gone?” I asked Lira.

She shook her head quickly. “Elara would never have left you.”

“No, but what of Talene?”

My High Priestess pressed her lips into a thin line. “Let me see if I can scry her. I need a few moments.”

Lira gave me her tome to hold, then wandered a few steps away to find some quiet for her spell.

Senna approached me. “Is it just me,” she murmured quietly with a glance toward Lira, “or have we been here before?”

“Definitely been here before.”

“Only this time, Elara hasn’t been seen for—what, four days?” Senna made a face. “We’ll never catch up with her.”

“At least not until she encounters trouble.”

All we could do is follow, and hope we could reach her before she needed us.

“Elara’s nearly invincible,” Senna mused. “Could she take out Morvak alone?”

I contemplated her question as we watched Lira cast her Divination spell. Swirls of silver and gold magic began to encircle her hands, and her skin glowed softly with the same light. “It’s possible, I suppose.”

“Then … what if we left her to it?” Senna asked tentatively, then hurried on as I glanced at her. “It was just a thought. I mean, Talene won’t let anything happen to her, will she?”

“I’m worried that it’s Talene that’s in control,” I said. “Did you hear Lira say Elara wouldn’t have gone off alone? I think she’s right.” I shook my head. “Talene might put Elara into a position that endangers her. Yes, maybe she could take out Morvak, but Morvak is a god. And until I get into that pyramid, we don’t even know what he’s capable of.”

“So we need to catch up with her before she reaches him,” Senna said. “It’s weeks on the road. Time enough to make up a four-day gap, surely?”

“She’ll know we’re coming.”

“Yes,” Senna said, “but I don’t think she’ll care.”

I glanced at her again. “Why not?”

“Because I think you’re right. I think Talene is in control, and Talene doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who bothers to look over her shoulder.” Senna folded her arms across her chest.

“You might be right,” I said, watching Lira.

“We could catch her up, and then just … let her do her thing,” Senna suggested. “Be ready to act if it’s needed.”

I raised an eyebrow at my assassin. “Do you think that’s the right thing to do?”

“No, I think it’s a terrible idea,” she admitted. “But I’m just trying to think what will happen when we catch up a demigod focused on the singular objective of banishing yet another god—and with the power to do it.”

“When you put it like that… I can see your point,” I said with a wince. “But Elara is still in there, somewhere, and dammit, I want her back.”

I checked my info sheet, and Elara was still showing as my companion. Did that mean, as I’d presumed, that she was still my paladin? Still loyal to me? Or was it just a case of ‘once a companion, always a companion’, irrespective of how her views might change?

Lira muttered a curse and the magic around her hands faded away. She returned to us, her face grim.

“Well, she’s definitely gone,” she reported. “She’s at least four days away, over a hundred miles. And Kaelan … she isn’t heading for Lorimel. She’s going west, toward Faronis.”

I cursed. If I hadn’t buried myself in the pyramid, I’d have noticed her missing sooner.

“She’s really going to kick the hornet’s nest, isn’t she?” Senna said.

Lira nodded. “She’ll pass through the border at Faronis and be in Saromir in less than three weeks.”

“Do you think we can catch her?” I asked grimly.

Lira’s lips thinned again, though it wasn’t clear whether it was at our chances of catching Elara, or disapproval that she’d gone in the first place. “We can but try, I suppose. I can scry as we go, and see if we’re making any progress.”

“Then we should get going,” I said to both girls, and handed Lira back her tome. “Check you have everything you need. We leave as soon as we can.”

“I need a wee,” Senna said lightly. “Then I’m ready.”

My assassin never took anything seriously.

“What?” She said, glancing between us. “We don’t want to have to stop at the first bush we see, do we? You two should go, too.”

Chapter Four

It might only have been a week since we’d returned from Lorimel, but it felt good to be back on the road again, even in the rain.

And this time, just the three of us—no wagon of children and visitors from Lorimel.

I felt a twinge of guilt when I realized I hadn’t checked in on Tarin, his friends, or the children since we’d been back. But Valerie would’ve taken good care of them; I didn’t need to worry.

No awkward half-possessed paladin, either, but I still missed her. She’d been my shadow for months, and her absence felt strange.

Lira caught me brooding and gave me a reassuring smile. “We’ll catch her before she reaches Morvak’s pyramid.”

I knew that was likely, even with the four-day lead she had, but what Senna had said concerned me. When we eventually found her, would she be in control? Would she want to join us again?

Had Talene taken Elara away from me, only a few days after she’d at last become one of my companions?

I hated that idea. Just the thought of it made me want to lash out at Talene. But how could I fight her?

It was one thing defeating a foe; it was quite another fighting a demigod that was—as far as I could tell—one-and-the-same person as my paladin. Or, at least, a co-tenant in her body.

I sighed and watched the world go by instead. There was nothing else to do.

The road west from Norathil passed north of the lake where we’d been ambushed by Drakos’ men. Senna had nearly died, and Elara had saved Lira’s life. We’d all survived in the end, but some nights, I woke in a cold sweat as alternative endings plagued my dreams.

The road ran through the forest where Drakos’ men had waited, and the lake itself could be glimpsed through the trees. I looked away.

The forest comprised mostly pine and oak, holly and gorse, so was still largely green despite the lateness of the year. I figured it must be the equivalent of mid-November, though I had never learned Valorah’s calendar—it just hadn’t come up in conversation, not that it much mattered. Some odd technology or magic had somehow allowed me to instantly read and speak the language they used here from the day Lira summoned me. Whatever they called their months, I’d just perceive them as familiar names like ‘July’ or ‘December’. I knew their language and alphabet were different—how could they not be?—and teaching Senna to read felt surreal, knowing that I was doing so only through powerful magic I didn’t understand. I tried not to think about it too hard; it gave me headaches.

Beside me, Senna gave a happy little sigh, pulling me from my ruminations.

I raised an eyebrow at her, amused at her contented expression. I hadn’t seen her look happy since she’d pulled on the kirtle she was wearing. “Glad to be on the road?”

“Exactly that,” she replied. She’d pulled her hood up against the rain, but it didn’t seem to be dampening her smile. “And not just the journey. I was enjoying it being just the three of us. I can’t remember the last time we were alone together.”

“Night of the ceremony,” Lira murmured from my other side.

“Yes,” Senna said slowly, “but even then, Elara was listening.” She gave a little start, and her faced tinged pink with a blush that wasn’t like her. “I … I didn’t mean to imply it’s better without her…”

I leaned across between our horses and gave her damp thigh a pat. “’S’all right. We know you didn’t.”

“Not since Taralith, then,” Lira grimaced when she realized what she’d said. The memory reminding us of when we’d learned Lira had ridden off after Drakos alone, much as Elara was doing now. She looked across at me. “I’m sorry for the worry I caused you.”

“I know you are,” I said. “And I also understood why you went.”

“Earned you a spanking though,” Senna pointed out. “Rightfully deserved.”

“It was,” Lira said, pretending to be chastised. But both Senna and I had taken the time to ensure Lira’s spanking was as much an affirmation of our love for her as a punishment, and my High Priestess had enjoyed it as such. It was pleasant to recall her squirming naked across Senna’s lap, her bottom raised and lightly reddened, and Senna had very much enjoyed it too.

“At least we all get to spank Elara when we find her,” Senna said, suggesting her thoughts weren’t far removed from my own. “Hmm … maybe I should be the one to wander off by myself next.”

“Don’t you dare,” I said quickly. Joking aside, I absolutely hated that Elara wasn’t here with us—just as much as I’d hated every moment I’d spent chasing Lira down.

Especially when I’d failed, and I’d had to watch her be taken away, captured.

At least I didn’t have to worry that Elara was in danger. Talene would surely keep her safe.

The rain made the going harder, and we had covered barely twenty miles by the time the sun was setting. I was stiff in the saddle, and not happy with our progress. But with the road wet and potholes covered by puddles, we couldn’t risk running the horses. With any luck, the same weather had affected Elara, even though she was several days ahead of us. I couldn’t help consider the progress we’d made by Earth standards. Even after weeks of travel around Valorah, it still grated that a day’s travel in the rain was the equivalent of a brief taxi ride.

Yet the horses couldn’t be pushed any harder unless we wanted to risk laming them, and the girls and I were tired too. Riding wasn’t just sitting still while our mounts did all the work.

The rain finally stopped late afternoon. We passed an inn, and none of us suggested stopping. By unspoken consensus, we wanted a quiet glen and the privacy of our tent—not the flea-infested beds that were common in the road-side hostelries. Even if it was likely to rain again.

With efficient camaraderie, we divided the camp chores: Lira worked on building a fire while Senna and I tethered the horses, rubbed them down, and hobbled them to graze. Once they were settled, we all turned our attention to erecting the tent, and it was soon ready.

We cooked up some of the provisions Thalor had prepared for us, and after dinner Lira was quick to pull out the book Ravion had found for her, sitting on a log to read by the light of the fire. It was clear she’d been eager to get into it since her first glimpse, that morning.

I tied a rope between trees to hang our wet clothes. “Found anything you like?” I asked her, as I draped our cloaks over the makeshift washing line to dry. The fire would keep us warm enough, and hopefully it wouldn’t rain again before morning.

“It’s very interesting,” she said, not looking up. “From what I’ve read so far, it’s mostly about the history of the Sharlath priesthood, but there are detailed accounts of their accomplishments.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’d been hoping it would be more specific. Especially in the area of spells and … well … how priests grow in power.” It was difficult to find the language. Using ‘Levels’ and ‘stats’ always made the girls look at me like I was crazy.

“There’s some of that, too,” Lira said. “Descriptions of ritual magic … some spell casting that I’d never heard of. Here, for example.” She began to read from the book. “‘To shield thy mortal vessel from the cruel ministrations of fire or frost, thou must first prepare thy spirit with solemn supplication. Gather ye an ember unspent by flame or a shard of frost untamed. Lay these tokens upon an altar of unhewn stone, that the purity of creation might consecrate thy purpose. With hands uplifted and heart unburdened, intone the sacred words. Let thy voice carry the plea unto the heavens, and the veil of resilience shall descend upon thee, tempering thy flesh against the trials of nature’s wrath.’”

“A real page-turner,” Senna muttered.

Lira’s lips twitched. “It’s written in Varrin. It can be a bit … stuffy.”

“Was that a resistance spell you just read out?” I asked.

“It’s a ritual, actually,” Lira said. “A ritual is a bit different from a spell. It’s the one that caught my eye this morning, and given how cold Saromir is supposed to be…”

“Good find,” I said. I wondered how many new spells she could learn from that book, and thought back to when Senna had learned her new assassin abilities. “Do you feel you could … add a spell or two to your repertoire?”

“I could certainly manage one or two,” Lira said thoughtfully. “I want to find something else to use in fights, beyond my hammer. I have my staff, but it runs out fast.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, yet. I’ll have to see what’s on offer.”

“Some kind of shield spell would be useful,” I said, thinking of the one Elara had used to save Lira’s life. “Protecting yourself should take priority.”

Lira grimaced. “I was thinking of something that might help you and Senna, or possibly allow me to attack multiple foes at once.”

I shook my head. “Senna and I can handle ourselves, but if something happened to you … who would heal you? No, it’s much better that you can protect yourself.”

“I knew you’d take that view,” she muttered, then gave a sigh. “I just wanted to … make a difference, you know?”

“Lira,” I said slowly, “you do make a difference. How many times have you saved our lives? How would I be able to respawn if not for the ritual you do to bless a new bed for me?”

“The only reason I can fight like I do,” Senna added, “is because I know you have my back if things go wrong.”

I glanced at my assassin, welcoming the help but not the way she phrased it. I didn’t want her taking greater risks just because Lira could heal her. Senna met my gaze and blinked innocently back—which told me she knew exactly what I was thinking, because innocent she wasn’t.

“I get that,” Lira said, drawing my attention back to her. “But I want to contribute more in the actual fights, too. If our enemies are dead, they can’t hurt you in the first place, can they?”

“Your hammer spell and staff are already lethal,” I said gently, trying to encourage her away from more offensive magic and onto something that would help keep her alive. The thought of losing Lira was too much to bear. Without her, we’d all be vulnerable—and she needed to know it. “If you go down, we can’t heal you. Then what would happen if Senna is injured, too? What happens if I’m killed, and you’re not around? The nearest respawn point could be days away.” We’d almost been in that situation at the lake fight, and it was that helplessness that fed my nightmares.

Lira sighed. “You’re right, I know you are. I’ll look to see if this book has a protection spell. I just…” She gave another sigh. “I wanted to bring more to our family.”

“My darling,” I said, “you already bring all I could possibly ask of you. All I want is to know you’re safe while you do it.”

She brightened at my words. “Thank you, my God. It’s nice to hear you say that.” Then she gave me a smile that was almost back to her usual warmth. “I love you too.”

“I love both of you,” Senna said. “But I’m also weary, and my butt hurts. So I’m going to sleep.”

“Hot shower,” Lira murmured, not looking up from her book.

“You mentioned that before. What is a hot shower?” Senna asked. “It sounds like a rain of fire or something.”

“The perfect fix for your sore ass,” Lira said, her lips curling mischievously.

“Really?” Senna glanced between us, her eyes narrowing. “Is this some kinky priestess thing?”

“No,” Lira said. “It’s a wonderful god-thing.”

Senna’s eyebrows rose swiftly, and she turned her gaze to me. “Really?” she said, in a completely different tone. One that suggested sleep could wait awhile longer.

“You’ll have to take your clothes off,” I said, my expression deadpan.

Senna narrowed her eyes at me. “‘Hot shower’ is just another term for a spanking, isn’t it? It’s too damn cold to strip out here.”

“Senna?” Lira said, still not looking up from her book.

“Yes?” Senna answered her suspiciously.

“Strip.”

My assassin pushed herself up from her log, muttering as she kicked off her boots. “If this is a trick, I’m paying you both back,” she said, as she pulled down her leather trousers from within the relative warmth of her woolen kirtle.

But her gaze turned to one of interest as I rose too, and began to disrobe.

“We hot shower together?” she asked, pausing to watch.

I chuckled, pulled off the rest of my clothes, then padded a safe distance away from the tent. I chose a patch of thick grass that wouldn’t get too muddy when it was liberally doused. “Hurry up,” I told her, “it’s freezing.”

Senna pulled her kirtle over her head and practically ran to me, her small, firm breasts jiggling in the light as she passed the fire. She pressed herself against me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast,” she said through gritted teeth, shivering.

In total agreement, I was already working on it. The rune appeared above my head, and an instant later blissful, warm water streamed down over us both. Senna gasped with the shock of it, then moaned in pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s … perfect.” She arched against me, pulling her head back to let the spray splash into her face, then pushed wet hair out of her eyes and gave me one of her challenging stares. “Can you make it any stronger?”

“More water, or hotter?”

“More water.”

I smiled. “I think so.”

I’d only been using a trickle of mana so far, and I didn’t need to stop the flow to up the pressure. I just needed to open the tap, so to speak, of my mana flow. Knowing my mana would replenish during the night and I didn’t need to be abstemious, I poured more in, not holding back.

The cascade became a veritable torrent as I misjudged the effectiveness of my mana, and Senna barely had time for an eep before the force of the water knocked her from her feet. I staggered under the deluge, cutting off the flow of my mana while the water pummeled my head and shoulders. It stopped abruptly, the cold air returning with a vengeance against my damp skin.

Sitting naked at my feet, her hair a tangled wet mess about her, Senna looked up at me in disgust. “Thanks,” she said sarcastically. “Now my ass hurts worse.”

Chapter Five

It took three weeks to reach Faronis, just like Lira had said.

In one idle moment, I pulled up my character sheet, taking a look at my stats:

It was nice to see the powers and skills I had accumulated during my time on Corthos, but at this point, rank ups were few and far between, and made only small differences. Unless I gained a level or a new ability, or advanced my Rune Sage Path, I didn’t think I’d see significant gains. On the other hand, my power was considerable, and with a combination of my God Power abilities and my runes, there weren’t many challenges I couldn’t overcome. I hoped.

I also tried out my new tranquility rune that Ravion had discovered for me. It combined four aspects, and that was two more than I’d ever tried to use at once. It took some practice to hold the rune in my mind’s eye, but as soon as I tried to manifest it, it faded almost at once, even with a strong intent. I wasn’t sure that was how it was supposed to work, but then my Astral Weave path had come with a warning: the more complex the rune, the more skill required, and the harder it was to sustain.

Deploying my Divine Strength doubled my meditation for an hour, and once that was in place I tried the tranquility rune again. This time, it manifested just fine, and I grinned with my success. I fed it mana to activate it, but then the mana began to feed back into me, multiplied. The rune was regenerating the mana I’d spent. In moments, what little mana I’d used was refilled, and the rune dissipated in the same instant. Perhaps because my mana was full?

I switched to the willwind rune, another four-aspect rune, and with my meditation still high I was able to manifest it easily. My mana dropped rapidly as I maintained it, but for a few moments I felt faster than I’d ever been before, my mind working with greater clarity, and even on horseback I could feel my agility was much improved. I let it run until my mana had dropped by a quarter, and then switched back to tranquility. This time, the rune remained for longer, refilling the mana I’d spent. But it was more a trickle than a stream, and by the time my Divine Strength had expired, my mana wasn’t quite back up to full. It was a useful rune, but not a silver-bullet solution to infinite mana. Maybe it would grow in power as I continued to level my meditation.

I spent some of the time meditating in the saddle, and was rewarded in the second week with a rank up, taking the skill to 22. My Riding also gained two ranks, the status messages that accompanied each gain a little pat on the back.

The rain came and went for a few days, delaying us. We rode each day until the sun went down, yet we made no inroads into Elara’s lead. Each evening, Lira used her Divination skill to scry her, and every time my paladin had increased her lead. She must’ve avoided the rain that had slowed us. When the weather improved we were able to push the horses harder, but after three weeks we were at least five days behind her, if not six.

We were weary, so were our horses, and we needed a day for our mounts to recuperate. It was either that, or try and trade them in—and it was unlikely we would find animals of comparable quality.

Resigned to losing further ground on Elara, we agreed to spend one day in the town, to rest the horses and give them as much hay as they could eat.

“Is it wise to walk into Faronis looking like Saromirans?” Senna asked.

I hesitated, looking at Lira. “You’d be the best judge. I figured they’d have traders coming both ways, given we’re right on the border.”

“And they do,” Lira confirmed. “We’re not technically at war anymore either, though it’s possible they haven’t heard Drakos is dead. Still, we should be careful. There’ll be bad blood.”

“Understandably,” I said. “Let’s keep a low profile.”

Faronis wasn’t just a border town, it was the main southern garrison for Valorah. Or it had been, before Drakos invaded and slaughtered the army stationed here. Its towering wall, higher than Norathil’s, was reinforced by defensive towers spaced every hundred yards. The eastern gatehouse featured two pairs of iron-bound gates, both wide open in peacetime ease, with a raised portcullis between each pair, ready to drop at a moment’s notice. Beyond these defenses, stone houses with shingle roofs stood in orderly rows, sturdier than the timber-framed wattle and daub homes more common in Valorah. With the mountains to the south, stone was plentiful, and Faronis’ structures reflected its rugged surroundings.

There was a solitary guard on duty, leaning against the wall, and he watched with idle curiosity as we rode past.

“I wonder how many men are left,” I murmured to Lira.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Some. There were survivors from the battles, and many of them were career soldiers. This was their home.”

Faronis itself had not been attacked. Drakos had crossed the mountains on Valorah’s western border and ridden straight into the heart of Valorah, for Norathil, drawing the garrisons in after him. He’d defeated the peacetime army, then turned and met both garrisons—the one from Faronis, and the northern one stationed at Lakeside. It had left him in control of Valorah, and the country without an army.

Yet as we rode into the town, signs of a military presence were evident. We passed three men in leather armor and breastplates who fixed me with intense stares, and further on, an officer strolled arm in arm with a lady.

“Let’s find a place to stable the horses,” I said, “then stay out of sight. We’re only here for a day, and dressed like this, we don’t want trouble.”

“Trouble follows you,” Senna said, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“Whereas you just bring it with you,” I muttered. She laughed.

“Are you going to identify yourself?” Lira asked me.

I shook my head. “There’s no need, and it would be too complicated. They don’t know me, and there’d be no reason to believe I am who I say I am.”

She nodded. “A quiet day’s rest, then.”

“That’s the plan.”

I reined in near a couple of locals who were walking past and asked directions to the taverns. They eyed me warily, but told us what we needed to know. We eschewed the main inns in the center of town for one more out of the way, and steered our horses into the northern part of town.

“Huh, that’s funny,” Senna said as the inn came into view, the board beneath its name depicting the head-and-shoulders of a man wearing a crown, and the words ‘The King’s Head’. “It even looks like you.”

It didn’t look like me at all, though the man depicted did have a nicely trimmed beard.

There were stables around the back, the smell of horses and damp straw drawing us in, and a stablehand who promised to find a bran mash when I paid him well.

We headed inside, in search of a lunch and then a room. After weeks on the road, the idea of crashing in the peace of our room was not without appeal.

The common room was a standard affair; a hearth with a vigorous fire, various tables and chairs, and an oak bar, polished and varnished with more care than many establishments usually showed. It was half-full with folks enjoying their lunch, and the food looked good. One table held a group of four men in leather armor and breastplates, and I turned my back and headed to the bar.

“Welcome,” said the proprietor, a tall, middle-aged man with a decent-sized belly and a bald head. He had an easy way about him that I liked. “Lunch or drinks?”

“Yes to both, and a room for the night,” I said.

He cocked his head as he regarded me. “Your accent is strange, and your clothing is…” He trailed off, his eyes widening, then his disposition soured. He pulled a tankard and set it on the bar, pouring ale while avoiding eye contact.

“We’re not from around here,” I said as the girls leaned on the bar, flanking me. “We’re from Norathil.”

“Norathil, eh?” he said, his skepticism clear.

“Just looking for a meal and a peaceful stay,” I murmured.

He sniffed lightly, then called over a serving wench and handed her the tankard he’d filled. Then he met my gaze, his tone flat as he addressed me. “I’d rather not serve your kind here, if you don’t mind.”

I leaned forward, talking quietly and keeping my expression as calm as I could. “Both my ladies and I have been on the road for several weeks, riding down from Norathil. After a stay here for one night, we’re heading into Saromir. Hence these clothes. We’re just looking to fit in as we ride through that country. We’ll keep to our room and be gone by tomorrow, and we can pay.” I placed some coins on the bar.

“Yeah?” he said. “Why would you look to take women into Saromir, then? They treat them like slaves in that country.”

“We’re following a friend of mine who has headed in alone,” I said, answering honestly but being circumspect with the truth. “I’m worried about them.”

“You should be,” he muttered. “Bastards, the lot of them.”

I rather doubted that, but this wasn’t the time to get into a philosophical argument about the virtues of individuals. Instead, I gestured at Senna. “This lady is from a village south of Taralith. My other friend” —I waved a hand at Lira— “has lived in Norathil all her life.” Or at least, I thought she had. We’d never actually discussed her childhood before she joined the priesthood of Sharlath. I made a mental note to address that oversight. “We’re as Saromiran as you are.”

“You still talk funny,” he muttered, but his mood had eased a little.

I smiled. “I’m from a bit further afield, but I assure you it’s nowhere near Saromir.”

A man stepped up behind me. “You all right there, Thalor?”

I glanced over my shoulder to see it was one of the soldiers, a large man with short, dark hair and a beard. He hooked his thumbs beneath his breastplate as he returned my appraisal.

“It’s fine,” Thalor, the barman, gruffly replied. “These folks are just passing through.”

I wasn’t sure if that meant ‘they’re leaving now’ or ‘they’re staying the night, then leaving’. “I have a friend back in Norathil called Thalor,” I said lightly. The farmer in Fernwick had also been a Thalor. It was obviously a common Valoran name.

“You’re from Norathil?” the soldier asked dubiously, running his eyes over my half-hidden leather jerkin and the kirtles the girls wore beneath their cloaks.

“Yes,” I said. “Traveled down these past few weeks.” I decided to add the rest of the story, before he asked more questions. “As I was just telling Thalor here, a friend of ours has gone alone into Saromir, and we thought these clothes would help us blend in while we looked for them.”

The soldier drew himself up, staring down at me. “A likely tale. It’s an insult for a Saromiran to come and drink in this tavern. Be on your way, before we kick you out.”

“Easy, John,” Thalor said. “I don’t mind serving them. I believe this fellow.”

The soldier stared at him in surprise. “You’d serve a Saromiran, after what they did to your boy?”

Thalor clenched his jaw. “No, I wouldn’t. But he’s explained their clothing, and like I said, I believe him. Now, it’s my inn, and I can serve who I choose. Let’s let this lie, eh?”

The soldier glared at me, glanced briefly at Lira and Senna, then stomped back to his table.

“Sorry about him,” Thalor murmured. “He’s more bark than bite, and he gets protective.”

“I understand,” I said. “And my commiserations for your loss.”

Thalor shrugged, his eyes downcast. “We all lost sons and brothers in the war.”

I nodded. “Have you heard Drakos is dead? He was killed in Lorimel a few weeks back.”

The barman raised his eyebrows, his attention piqued. “You are well informed, stranger.”

“Well, news came to Norathil,” I said lightly. It was true enough; I’d brought it myself.

“It’s good news, too,” Thalor said, reaching for a set of three tankards and filling them with ale. He slid them across the bar to us. “Who killed him?”

“The king did,” I replied, taking a swig of the ale.

“The new king went to Lorimel?” Thalor asked in surprise.

I smiled. “He gets around.”

Thalor grunted. “Good to hear he finished what he started.”

I glanced at Lira. “Quite a few of us were relieved when he did.”

She gave me a smile back.

“We’ll find a table then,” I said. “And we’ll keep a low profile. I’m not here to cause you trouble.”

Thalor gave me a slow nod. “John and his men have left anyway,” he said, and I glanced back into the room to see their table was empty. “But I appreciate the sentiment. And thank you for the news. Perhaps my boy will rest easier for it.”

“I hope so,” I said, taking my tankard and leading the girls to a table against a wall.

“They’re prickly around here,” Lira murmured as we sat down.

I shrugged. “Can’t really blame them for that.”

“No, I suppose not.” She took a sip of her ale.

We didn’t have long to wait before one of the serving girls brought a platter filled with bread, cheeses and bowls of stew with hunks of beef and winter vegetables. The food was simple fare, but it was flavorful. I liked the food in Valorah; it was better than the diet of pizzas and microwave meals I’d lived on back on Earth. Freshness counted for a lot, and I’d rarely tasted better bread than before I came to Corthos.

But the interaction with Thalor and John had left me unsettled, and my mood worsened as we ate. I half expected the soldiers to return, either to kick us out of town or put us in a cell for a night or two.

I knew this world was barbaric, but the constant reminders were getting to me. What was the point of saving Valorah from a Saromiran invasion when both nations seemed equally bad? Was it so much to expect common decency and justice?

I scoffed aloud, shaking my head; common decency was hardly common on this world.

Lira glanced at me, her eyebrows arching in silent inquiry.

“What do you think of the way they treat Saromirans?” I asked her. She was my moral compass in this world, one of the genuinely good people I’d met.

She leaned back in her chair, considering the question. “Unfriendly. But, like you said, can you blame them for it?”

“That’s exactly the problem,” I said, struggling to find the words for my thoughts. “If we don’t blame them for it, what changes? If it becomes acceptable to treat another nation like shit, then all that does is engender prejudice. Innocent folks can’t walk from one country to the next without being met with suspicion and distrust. And prejudice has a way of feeding itself until it’s all anyone knows.”

Lira frowned, her expression thoughtful, but it was Senna who spoke first.

“We already have wars, Kaelan,” she said, tilting her head as she regarded me. “We’re here to stop another.”

“Exactly my point.” I gestured toward the tavern door. “We’re trying to stop a war, but what’s happening in the meantime? Valoran soldiers treat Saromirans like they’re less than people, and the seeds for the next war are already being sown.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” Lira murmured. “Thalor served us, and the soldier left.”

“He left,” I agreed, “but to do what? Suppose he returns with a bunch more of his men? What if he decides to throw us in a prison where no one knows we’re there, and sells our horses and gear? What’s to stop him?”

“You would,” she said gently, her tone trying to reassure.

I waved a hand in exasperation. “Sure I would. But what’s to stop him the next time, when some innocent Saromiran trader walks through here with his wives, and can’t stop him like we can?”

She frowned, seeing my point. “Still, that didn’t happen, did it?”

“Hasn’t happened yet,” I muttered. “To us, anyway. What of all the other Saromirans who have tried to get a drink in this tavern?”

“Thalor lost his son in the war,” Lira reminded me. “Can you really blame him for not wanting to serve Saromirans?”

“We’re back to no blame,” I said. “Saromir hurt him—and I don’t deny the hurt—but now he won’t serve Saromirans. Then John—or men like him—takes it a step further, acting as judge, jury, and executioner. And just like that, another trader goes missing.”

“Do you like the Saromirans?” Lira asked, her tone careful.

“I don’t know any Saromirans. Drakos and Fang don’t count. The rest of his men that we’ve encountered we haven’t exactly stopped to chat with them.” I sighed. “We’re as much the problem as we are the solution.”

“So what are you saying?” Senna asked. “That we shouldn’t defend ourselves? We should just let them come?”

“No,” I said wearily. “I’m saying we’re treating the symptoms, not the disease. This war—it’s just another sticking plaster over something deeper.”

“What’s a sticking plaster?” Lira asked, her head tilting in confusion.

I chuckled dryly. “Yeah, exactly,” I muttered; modern concepts for a barbaric world that didn’t understand them. If I couldn’t even explain this to my girls, what hope did I have of changing anything?

It wasn’t Saromir that was inherently bad, it was Morvak. Valorah wasn’t inherently good either, not when there were people like Jarek, and no one thought anything of treading down on those beneath them. I couldn’t fight a war against human nature. People were people, and a lot of people just weren’t very nice.

“I don’t have the answers,” I said. “But if we want a better world, someone has to start asking the questions.”

The girls watched me in silence, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern.

I drained the last of my ale and pushed my chair back. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get to our room. At least there, we’re not a catalyst for more blame.”

But as I stood up, a thought lingered. Maybe it was impossible to fix everything, maybe it was even pointless. But I knew this: If we didn’t start questioning the way things were, nothing would ever change. And I couldn't just give up on that, not yet.

It would take some power to instigate change of that nature; the kind of power that winning this conflict the Watchers had thrown me into.

The voice in the pyramid had told me that winning would grant me the power to do as I wished.

So all I had to do to change this world was to wage war upon it.

Chapter Six

We left early the next morning, hoping to depart the city before we encountered more trouble.

I didn’t want to meet more soldiers and have my argument proved right. It would only end badly. For them.

Unlike the east gate, the western exit to the city was heavily manned and the gates were closed. We walked our horses up, and I wondered if they’d even let us leave. A soldier held up his hand as we approached, and we reined in.

He ran his eyes over us, his distaste obvious as he took in our Saromiran disguises. Then he turned away and gestured for the gates to be opened as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of us.

That suited me.

We rode past the soldiers on duty who stared at us. One spat in the dirt, and another muttered ‘Scum’. A soldier made a crack about Drakos being killed, and some of them laughed. That news had traveled fast.

And then we were through, the road wide as it carried us on into Saromiran territory and the forest that spread out before us.

“Never thought I’d be glad to see the back of a Valoran town.” Lira expressed what we were all thinking.

“Let’s put it from our minds and catch up to Elara,” I said. Lira had scryed her that morning, and she was now almost a week ahead. Despite our need to rest our horses, Elara had pressed on. I was surprised; her mount must need a rest too. Maybe she’d traded him in for another, but I couldn’t see her parting with her warhorse.

The weather had turned bitter, and it began to lightly snow as we rode on, a sprinkle of flakes that didn’t settle but were a promise of things to come. The forest wasn’t as dense as the ones near Norathil, the trees more widely spaced and mostly oak and beech and bare of leaves. It was forest all the way to the mountain foothills two weeks away. If the road held out, we’d make good time—but so would Elara.

Yet despite the cold and the dangers that lay ahead, my spirits lifted. We’d left behind the prejudice of Faronis, our horses had enjoyed the better part of a day to rest, and they were as eager as we were to push forward.

“What should we be expecting?” Senna asked as we rode.

I let Lira answer that one. I knew very little about Saromir.

“Well, Saromirans are tribal,” Lira said. “Their tribes, or clans, can be a few dozen in number or a few thousand, depending on their position in the pecking order. Drakos was a warlord, so he had several tribes under his banner, and thousands of men. But mostly they keep to their own territories.”

“Except they’re preparing for war,” I pointed out.

“Yes,” Lira acknowledged thoughtfully. “On rare occasion in Saromiran history, several tribes have united under one warlord. It takes a special occurrence for that to happen, and it’s surprising it’s happened twice in such quick succession. First Drakos, and now again.”

“Unless Morvak is that special occurrence.”

Lira nodded. “That could do it. Many of the Saromiran warbands will have traveled to Morvak’s stronghold, so maybe we’ll meet fewer. It also provides a convenient excuse for our journey.”

“Would Saromiran warriors travel alone, or with their wives?” I asked.

“I don’t know enough about their culture to say,” Lira answered. “Perhaps if we imply that you’re late making the journey and are following after your clan, that might give an excuse. Or maybe I’m wrong and they are making the journey in ones and twos. Not all the warriors will have gone; some of the clans will have sent only a few warbands, some maybe none at all. It depends on how far-reaching and effective Morvak’s influence is.”

“Well, let’s focus on finding Elara first.”

Yet in the end, it didn’t take us long to cross her trail.

Ahead in the road lay a dozen crumpled and motionless shapes, and despite the cold weather, the stench of days-old corpses drifted towards us on the air. I kicked my horse forward, anxiety making my stomach tighten. Even though I knew Elara was practically invincible with Talene’s artifact, I couldn’t help the worry that grew.

But as we rode closer, it was obvious that there was no paladin lying among the dead. This had been a Saromiran warband, perhaps one set to patrol the main road into Valorah.

Lira made a stifled noise as she looked around at the dead, her eyes wide. She pulled the corner of her cloak over her nose to block out the smell.

I dismounted for a closer look, my horse skittering nervously as I handed my reins to Senna.

The bodies were well-preserved by the cold, but I averted my eyes from their faces and hands, which had been picked at by scavengers. Faint animal tracks crisscrossed the mud, captured as it froze—signs of wolves and carrion birds. They overlaid the many boot and hoof prints that hinted at what had happened here.

Each man wore similar hardened leather jerkins to my own. Some had woolen shirts, and most had cloaks. Many still gripped their weapons, while others lay fallen on the road: swords, hand axes, and the occasional shield. But the consistent theme was how they had died: sword thrusts and slashes, as though they’d been overwhelmed by a far greater force.

I grimaced, already suspecting what I would find, but pulled up my intuition rune and fed it my intent and a trickle of mana.

Ghostly images formed as some of the men appeared on the road, while others waited among the trees and bushes, weapons ready. Then a solitary horse materialized, its rider silvery and transparent in the magical afterimage. Despite the blurred edges where the magic failed to capture details, there was no mistaking the figure. I watched as Elara slaughtered the men, her sword rising and falling as she didn’t even try to defend herself. The men’s blows were turned aside as if some invisible force protected her—or maybe that was the magic’s interpretation of her imperviousness.

In moments, the warband lay dead or dying. Only one man had tried to flee into the woods. Elara gave chase, catching him swiftly and running him through from behind. Then, as she turned her horse back to the road, the magic faded, the rune’s intent fulfilled.

“Elara?” Senna asked, recognizing when I finished observing the events.

I nodded grimly, taking my reins from her and mounting my horse once again. “Let’s move on.”

There were too many bodies for us to deal with, and nature would reclaim them in time.

The imagery I’d seen troubled me for the rest of the afternoon. It wasn’t that Elara had been in a fight—that was to be expected, especially when she’d worn her armor and made no attempt to disguise herself—but the way she hadn’t hesitated, and then hunted down the fleeing man at the end. She’d been ruthless. Maybe the outcome was inevitable, and she’d recognized that from the beginning, or maybe the magic’s portrayal colored my interpretation; but there’d been nothing to hint at the Elara I knew.

Was there anything left of my paladin, or had Talene taken over completely?

When we stopped that night and Lira scryed Elara, we were still a week behind. I had hoped to close the gap by now, but we’d failed in that regard. Worse, it hadn’t reduced at all.

“She’ll be halfway to the mountains,” I said dismally as I poked the fire with a stick. “She’s going to reach them before we catch her.”

“It’s a week or two over the mountains, then another three weeks to the stronghold,” Lira said. “We could yet make up the gap.” She had the maps she’d made in the pyramid, and I knew she’d had them out most nights. They’d been carefully bound between oiled leather to keep them safe from the elements.

“I hope so,” I said.

“There’s nothing we can do but push on as best we can,” Senna pointed out practically, “and we can’t even do that in the dark.” She rose and smiled at me as she pulled off her cloak. “I’m cold. I think you should both come and warm me up.” She was already pulling her kirtle up and over her head as she pushed inside the tent, showing a flash of her naked back above her tight leather trousers before the canvas flap fell back, hiding her.

“She’s right,” Lira said with an amused glance at where Senna had disappeared. “There’s nothing we can do now but get some sleep and keep our spirits up.”

“I don’t think Senna has sleep on her mind.”

“Neither do I,” Lira murmured. She rose, pulling her own kirtle up as she walked to the tent, her hips swaying. Unlike Senna, she wore no trousers beneath, and I watched the hem rise up her legs until it hinted at the alluring curves of her bare bottom. She held it there, looking back over her shoulder at me with a playful gaze. “I got it the wrong way around. Keep our spirits up, and then get some sleep.”

The next two or three days passed uneventfully, the forest quiet around us. We saw no sign of Saromiran dwellings or towns, as if they’d deliberately built away from the main road and hidden their villages in the forest. The road had branched at several places, but we’d always taken the fork that led towards the mountains, knowing from Lira’s maps that it would lead to a mountain pass. In doing so, we’d lost the well-traveled routes, and the path had become more rudimentary, further slowing our travel. We were about ten days away from the mountains, or some two- to three-hundred miles. Too far away to see them, though we knew we were on the right bearing, not least because I could call up my compass whenever I wanted to confirm.

The following day, we caught sight of houses through the trees, and reached our first Saromiran settlement.

It was a small village with a scattering of wooden buildings, each long and low with central chimneys that puffed out grey smoke. A primitive palisade of wooden stakes ran the perimeter of the village, likely to keep out wild animals. The road ran past it, a hundred yards away at its closest point.

“Best to keep our distance,” I said as we rode on, looking curiously towards the buildings.

But a half-dozen Saromirans rode out of the northern end of the settlement, curving around to meet us on the path. We reined in as they approached, stopping some yards away. They were all wearing the armor and weapons of warriors, though two seemed very young, and the other four older than I would expect. Perhaps those of fighting age had gone ahead to Morvak’s stronghold.

“Well met,” I said, raising my hand in greeting in the Saromiran style as Lira had instructed me.

For a long while, the men stared back at me, saying nothing. Then one of them nudged his horse forward, his expression guarded. He was one of the older ones, his face showing the wrinkles of age, though his arms and shoulders still looked sturdy.

“We see few people on this road,” he said. “Why are you here?”

“We are traveling north, toward the mountains,” I said. “Just passing by.”

“Where have you traveled from?” His intonation was clipped and formal-sounding, and strangely flat, devoid of emotion.

“From south of here,” I said noncommittally, and gave him a small smile. I hoped they’d take the hint: our business was our own.

“I cannot place your accent,” the man said, cocking his head to one side. “You are not from near here.”

“We’ve traveled far,” I said, “and still have far to go. We’ll be on our way if you let us pass.”

The man blinked in surprise, and I thought he was taken aback, but the Saromirans were so stoic it was difficult to be sure. Fang had been the same. Only one of the others had reacted, his eyes widening at my words.

“You seek no hospitality?” the man asked.

Ah, a custom I had been aware of. “My regrets,” I said formally, bowing slightly in the saddle. “Unfortunately, we’re pursuing a friend, and have much ground to make up.”

His eyes narrowed at me. “Your friend came this way?”

“Yes.” I wondered if they’d seen Elara, but couldn’t think how to ask about a Valoran paladin dressed in half plate mail armor without sounding less Saromiran than I was already managing.

“How long ago?” the man pressed.

“About a week,” I said cautiously, wondering if I should’ve lied.

The man nodded solemnly. “I regret to inform you that your friend is probably dead,” he said, and it was my turn to blink in surprise. I pulled up my character sheet and checked: Elara was still listed as a companion. Surely that wouldn’t be the case if she were dead?

“How so?” I asked, buying myself time to think.

“A Valoran warrior came through around that time,” the man said gravely. “He was invincible, and slaughtered many of our clan. If your friend encountered him, it is unlikely he would have survived.”

I nodded slowly. Elara was clearly very much alive, though it seemed those she’d met were not. “Did you send a warband out to meet this warrior?”

“We did,” the man said, shifting uncomfortably on his horse. “He killed them all, then rode into the village hunting for more.”

I blinked at that. “He went hunting for more?” Why would Elara have not simply ridden on?

“Yes,” the man said stoically, his eyes hardening at the memories. “The warrior slew all that raised a weapon against him, irrespective of age or skill.”

That seemed like overkill, and I couldn’t imagine Elara reacting in such a way. Beside me, Lira let out a muffled gasp of shock, equally horrified.

There must be more to the story. I cast my gaze over the two young men and the four older ones before us, wondering why they were still alive if what they said was true. “Did you not fight?”

The man’s eyes flared with anger. “We are no cowards.” He spat on the ground between us, as though I had insulted him. “We were not here. We were hunting.”

I glanced back over my shoulder to where the path branched off toward the village and pulled up my intuition rune. Show the way Elara went. I fed it mana, and my emotion—I had plenty of that.

A silvery form on horseback appeared on the path, riding up toward us. It stopped before the path forked, holding still for some moments. Then the rider drew their sword, their horse dancing and whirling as if in a fight, but with the intent I’d fed into the rune, I could only see Elara’s form.

In seconds, the ghostly image of Elara had turned her horse toward the village, her sword raised as if she were chasing a man. I saw her spur her mount forward while she rose in her saddle. She cut down with her blade, and even if I couldn’t see the results of her blow, I could imagine it. Then she rode on, her ghostly form disappearing between the trees and then crossing through the palisade where the path led up to it.

I turned back to the men who were watching me, and cleared my throat. “I am sorry for your loss,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, the shimmering, silver form of Elara on her horse spun and wheeled through the village, glimpsed through the palisade. I cut the mana to my rune.

The man nodded. “And I am sorry for your friend. Though you seek no hospitality, we still offer what we can.” He grimaced. “Regretfully, with the death of so many, it is not much.”

“Thank you,” I said gravely. “We acknowledge your kind offer, but we will be on our way. If our friend lives, they are much in need of our help.”

The man looked at me in puzzlement for a moment, then his eyes narrowed. But he nodded brusquely, and guided his horse to the side of the road. The other men did the same.

I nudged my mount forward, riding past them while they watched in silence.

We rode some way before the village was lost in the trees and Lira spoke. “Elara is not herself.”

“No, she’s not,” I said grimly. I knew my paladin would never have killed for the sake of it, and that was now two accounts against her—and the confirmation of my intuition rune.

“I’m worried for her,” Lira added.

“As am I.”

“So am I,” Senna said. “And not to detract from that, but did you see the way the men stared at us—at the end?”

“Kaelan used ‘we’ and ‘our’,” Lira said, glancing at me supportively. “Most Saromirans wouldn’t have included their wives in such a collective way.”

By ‘most’, I gathered she meant ‘none’.

“I should say my friend, as though you’re incapable of having them?” I asked sarcastically.

Lira shrugged lightly. “A Saromiran’s friend is a warrior; his wives’ friends are women. You confused them with your term of address. And with your contractions, I believe. Saromirans are more formal in their speech.”

I sighed. “I’ll try and be more careful.”

And I’d thought introducing women to the ranks of the Valoran army was an extreme step. Here in Saromir, it seemed women were hardly even acknowledged.

Chapter Seven

We followed the path toward the mountains for three more days, always a week behind Elara. How she was maintaining her pace I wasn’t sure; she must’ve hardly stopped to rest.

Saromir continued to be all forests, and if there were settlements, we weren’t seeing them. The road showed signs of passing horses where occasionally the frozen mud was freshly churned up, ice not yet formed on the uncovered soil. But if there were warbands patrolling, we didn’t see them.

Each night, we’d head off the road and into the forest to make camp, erecting our tent and making plentiful use of my hot shower runes. It was something to look forward to as the cold sapped the strength from our bones during the day.

It still hadn’t snowed, for which we were grateful, but we’d have our fill of snow when we crossed the mountains.

It was mid-afternoon the following day when we encountered our first roaming warband, their presence announced through the trees with the cries of men and the sounds of battle.

I reined in, frowning in surprise.

“Who could they be fighting?” I asked no one in particular.

Lira shook her head and shrugged, looking equally puzzled. “No idea. Clan against clan? They do that, right?”

“I want to take a look,” I said, sliding off my horse and tethering him to a nearby tree. The girls quickly made to follow suit, and I raised an eyebrow at them. “It would be better if you stayed here.”

“The hell with that,” Senna said. “I’m bored out of my mind, and even a sneak peek would be a welcome diversion.”

“And I’m not leaving you,” Lira added.

I made a face, then shrugged. Maybe it would be better if they were where I could keep an eye on them. “All right, but we stay out of sight, and if I say ‘run’, you run.”

“Yes, Kaelan,” Lira acknowledged quickly, but Senna merely gave me a beatific smile then pulled open the sides of her kirtle, checking her daggers were loose in her sheaths.

I followed her example, ensuring my blades were free to draw and hadn’t been frozen against the leather in the cold. Then I led the way through the trees, heading toward the sound of the fighting.

The noises weren’t what I expected, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. There were cries, both of pain and anger, and the shifting of many bodies, but something was missing. Then I realized what it was: there was no ring of steel-on-steel. No blades clashing. The thunk of weapons sounded through the trees, but it was more like men taking axes to logs than a battle.

We crept closer, staying low, moving from one trunk to the next for cover. The undergrowth was sparse, but there was enough holly and ferns to keep us concealed, and brambles to pull at our boots and catch on the girls’ dresses. Senna and I moved near silently, our abilities keeping our steps quiet even on the forest floor, but beside us Lira sounded like she was deliberately trying to snap each twig and crunch every fallen leaf. She grimaced, glancing guiltily at me, but it was unlikely anyone would hear her over the sound of the battle.

The battle was now only a few dozen yards away, and I held up my hand to stop both girls. Then I crept forward and carefully peered out from behind a tree.

Ahead, the ground fell away into a natural hollow, the sides steeply sloped and covered in moss and grass. Within this depression, there were ten or so Saromiran warriors, and they were fighting for their lives. Their foes weren’t another clan, but a nest of giant spiders, each as large as a wolf. And there were dozens of them.

Lira gasped beside me and even Senna looked grim. I felt the hairs on my neck stand up in horror, and a primal dread ran ice-cold through my blood.

As we watched, a Saromiran fell, a spider leaping on his back and sinking vicious fangs into his neck. He arched with a cry, dropping to his knees, and was quickly overrun.

I drew my blades.

“What are you doing?” Senna asked urgently, fear in her voice for the first time since Fernwick.

“I can’t stand by and watch men die to those creatures.”

“They’re Saromirans!”

Activate Divine Strength: Meditation.

Divine Strength activated: Meditation. Duration: one hour.

“They’re still people,” I said, and pulled up my windwill rune, triggering it with a steady stream of mana. “Both of you stay here. That’s not open to debate.” I had to focus to speak slowly enough to be understood, but I waited for both of them to nod their acknowledgement, their eyes reflecting both fear and relief. “If I die, run for the horses and return to Faronis.”

It would take me weeks to catch them up again, and even with their skills, they’d be vulnerable alone. I had to not die.

For a moment, I second-guessed what I was about to do. Leaping into a pit of spiders? But those men were as good as dead if I didn’t, and I had the power to save them.

And spiders that large … they made my skin crawl. I couldn’t let those men die. Not like this.

I rushed forward before I could change my mind, unclasping my cloak and letting it fall as I ran, and I moved so fast the trees and ground seemed to blur.

As I ran, I debated what rune to add. I had another slot, but two options. It was obvious the spiders were venomous, as a clear residue dripped from their fangs, and my new resistance aspect might protect me from that—but it was untried, and I didn’t know if it would work. Instead, I pulled up my intuition rune, trusting my speed and the precognition it afforded to avoid getting hit in the first place. If I got it wrong, I knew Lira could remove the poison, just like she had when I fought Drakos’ assassin.

I slid down the side of the bank and into the hollow like it was a slide, my speed and agility letting me keep my feet. This close, I could see that there were already many Saromirans dead on the ground, some of them half-cocooned in the webs of spiders. The other men were fighting a desperate retreat, but the banks were too steep and slippery to climb as they fought. Given where the fallen bodies marked their progress, I saw at once that the men had been enveloped as they’d entered the hollow, then pressed back against the steep sides and trapped. Between us and the exit were dozens of spiders.

Several small holes had been dug into the edges of the hollow, each barely larger than a fox’s den, but as I watched, another spider ran out of the burrow.

I wondered how many there would be, and whether my bravado was nothing but suicide.

Yet I still couldn’t stand by and let these men die—not paralyzed and helpless, not when I could save them.

I fucking hated spiders.

Activate God Power.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

The spiders noticed my arrival before the men did, and two leaped toward me. They pounced for my head without seeming to first brace themselves, but my intuition rune warned me before they even moved. My twin swords slashed together, meeting them both in mid-jump and cutting deep between their grasping fangs. Both arachnids were split almost in half, their blood spraying into the air and coating my blades. Blue blood. That was unexpected.

Then I was on the level ground at the bottom of the basin, spinning and twisting as I sliced through the spiders, my speed and intuition working together to anticipate every leap and bite. I dodged away from each attack, my blades cutting deep in response. Soon, I’d cleared a path through to the Saromirans, who huddled together in a group, desperately trying to defend each other’s backs.

Several of the men were injured, venom running slick and yellowish from bites on their arms and legs. Each wounded limb hung paralyzed and useless, no matter how severe the damage.

The men spared me a glance of shock and surprise before they returned to the singular business of staying alive, but it was quickly obvious I could defend an entire flank, letting the men concentrate their efforts more effectively.

Fortunately, the spiders weren’t hard to kill; there were just a lot of them. Within moments, I found the rhythm of it. Dodge a leap; stab. Twist inside a lunge before the spider even moved; cut. Kick a spider over; thrust down into its exposed abdomen. Its legs curled up around the wound as it died.

Again and again I cut down the spiders, until my weapons, hands, and armor were coated in their watery blue blood and the ground around me was littered with their corpses. Yet even with my boosted speed and intuition, I couldn’t watch all directions at once. I barely twisted enough to avoid an attack I’d seen too late, and a fang stabbed through the side of my leather armor like it was made of paper. Cold liquid soaked into my undershirt as it ejected its venom, but I didn’t think it had broken the skin. Was the venom potent enough to poison me without a wound?

I knocked it away with the pommel of my sword and slashed down, slicing off its hollow fangs. My backhand almost cut it in two.

“Above!” one of the men yelled, and an instant later a spider dropped onto my head. I ducked in reflex, only my god-like speed allowing me to brush the creature off before it plunged its fangs into my neck. I shuddered with revulsion even as I stabbed my sword through its back.

Now I had three dimensions to watch, and my intuition rune was being sorely tested. There was too much to see, too many spiders running in or dropping down from webs that filled the trees. Each of them created future images of where they would be, and they all blurred together. I could only focus on those nearest, and it was taxing my mind.

Without the windwill rune, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to keep up. But the new rune Ravion had found for me didn’t merely boost my speed, it aided my mental reasoning too. I needed every edge to stay on top of the multiple attacks that threatened every second.

But though there were many spiders, their numbers weren’t infinite. We were whittling them down, and many of the Saromirans still lived. Then, as if called by some silent signal, those spiders that were left suddenly pulled away, turning and scurrying for the holes into their burrows.

A few more dropped to the ground from webs above, scuttling for the safety of their nest and staying well clear of us.

Then there was only calm, and the sounds of ragged breathing as the men and I stood and surveyed the carnage, quietly celebrating being alive.

“We move before they return,” I said into the silence, pointing out a direction with my sword. “Help those that can’t walk.”

There was no objection to my taking the lead, and as one, we made our way across the hollow toward the shallow exit. Our eyes flicked between the burrow entrances, watching for a new attack, but nothing came.

Then one of the men rushed from the group to a Saromiran half-cocooned in spiderwebs, lying on the mossy ground.

“Leave him!” another shouted.

“He’s still alive!” the first man called back, his hand pressed against the fallen warrior. He hoisted him up, struggling with his weight. But as he did so, two spiders burst from the burrow nearby, unable to resist the allure of prey in such proximity.

I raced forward, crossing the ground in a blur with my speed boosted by both my God Power and my rune. I was aware of the man standing helpless, the wounded warrior in his arms, unable to move or defend himself. His eyes were wide as he stared down his impending death. But my blades caught both spiders as they leaped for the man, cutting them neatly in two. They split, falling away, and more blue blood sprayed through the air, coating the man. He shuddered with a mixture of adrenaline and disgust, and stared at me in shock.

The other Saromirans were staring too.

“How do you move so fast?” one breathed.

I ignored them. “Keep moving,” I barked the command. “You three” —I pointed with my sword— “check the bodies, and drag any man to us that still has a pulse. They may be merely paralyzed.”

They obeyed without hesitation, while I stood ready with my intuition rune so it could warn me of the next attack. But none came. Possibly there were too few spiders left, or perhaps they had the intelligence to realize their prey wasn’t worth the effort. Whichever it was, we were able to walk free of their hollow. Four of the cocooned men were with us, their bodies stiff and rigid, but their hearts still beating—for now.

“Our horses are that way.” A man pointed to the south.

“We’re going that way,” I said, pointing back to the road and where the girls waited behind the trees.

“But—”

“If you want these men to live, don’t argue.”

“Yes, warrior.”

I hid at wince at the deference. I didn’t need this kind of attention, but it was a bit late now.

God Power Deactivated.

Attack has gained 1 rank.

Perception has gained 2 ranks.

Speed has gained 1 rank.

Dodge has gained 2 ranks.

Dual Wielding has gained 2 ranks.

Leadership has gained 2 ranks.

Weapon (Sword) has gained 2 ranks.

Pretty impressive gains given the levels my skills were already at, but the fighting had been intense.

As soon as we had some distance from the hollow, I called Lira. Both she and Senna came out from behind the trees—Lira with her staff, Senna with her blades in hand. The men stared at them in shock.

“We have injuries,” I said to Lira. “Do what you can, but start with the men who are paralyzed. If the venom reaches their hearts, they might yet die.”

“Yes, K—husband.” She avoided using my name at the last moment.

Senna sheathed her blades, looking disgruntled that she hadn’t had the chance to use them. “You’re a mess,” she said, pulling a good handful of grass and using it to wipe off the worst of the blood.

I chuckled, ignoring the gasps from the Saromirans at being so addressed, and stood still while she cleaned me. Blue blood coated almost everything I could see, and no doubt it was splattered through my hair and over my face, too. I could taste it in my mouth, a coppery tang, and my hands and blades were covered in it.

Again the men were staring in amazement, but this time their awe was for Lira. My High Priestess was healing wounds and drawing out poison, and there was no hiding the vivid green swirls that marked her magic.

“A woman shaman?” one of the men gasped. “How can this be?”

Another man regarded me with narrowed eyes. “You’re no Saromirans. Who are you?”

Chapter Eight

“What are you saying, Malric?” one of the warriors asked, glancing between me and the man who had leveled the accusation.

The man called Malric folded his arms across his chest as he regarded me in silence for a long moment. He was a few years younger than me but carried himself with authority, perhaps the leader of their group. He had a strong jaw and a large, hooked nose that would’ve looked out of place on a man of a smaller size. His long blonde hair was tied back tight, and he had a smear of blue spider blood across one cheek that matted his thick beard. “I have never seen a man fight like he does.” He gestured at the girls. “That women held her weapons like she can use them, and that one is a shaman.” His chin came up as he regarded me. “You are Valorans.”

“And if we are?” I asked cautiously. It would be a shame to kill these men having just saved them, but if they attacked, it would be a swift fight.

“Then I would ask what you are doing in Saromir,” Malric said, standing his ground as he stared at me. The other men were watching and many still held weapons, but they hung loose at their sides, and none of them had made a threatening move toward me or the girls.

I hesitated, thinking, but could see no harm in giving an answer to his question. A partial one, in any event. “I’m search for a friend who traveled north.”

Malric nodded thoughtfully. “Another shaman?”

“No,” I said, “a warrior.”

“Why is your friend here?”

“Malric,” murmured another of the men. “It is not fitting to question the stranger.”

Malric glanced at him dismissively. “He is Valoran.”

“Still.” The other man was not to be gainsaid. “We owe him a blood debt.”

A murmur of assent ran through the men, and more than one straightened their backs in respect as they regarded me.

Lira rose from where she’d been kneeling beside one of the fallen men, staggering with fatigue. I crossed quickly to her, the men moving aside to let me through, and slid my arm around her waist for support.

“I’m fine,” she said wearily, grasping my arm. “It’s done. They’ll all live.” She eyed a man nearby who stood with his arm hanging numb, a blue-stained wound in his shoulder, and gave a sigh. Then she raised her hands, and her green healing magic flowed toward him. He started in surprise, then held still as his injury knit before our eyes.

Meanwhile, the man who had questioned Malric knelt beside one of the cocooned men, checking his pulse. “His heart beats strong,” he said, looking up at the others. “Another blood debt … and this time, to a woman.” He added the last in a mutter. Then he pulled a knife and began to cut the webbing away. Soon, all the men that had been bound were freed, and they were all slowly regaining movement in their bodies.

“Very well,” Malric said, his expression impassive as he watched Lira work her way through the rest of the wounded men. “You are not Saromiran, but I do not deny the blood debt. Come, my father’s hall is not far. You will be our guests this day.”

“Thank you,” I said, “but we must continue our journey. We’ve a long—” I cut myself off as his expression clouded, and the other men stared at me as though I’d insulted them. For a race so stoic, their reactions bordered on overt, making it clear I’d committed a major faux pas. “Of course,” I said. “We would be honored to be your guests.”

Malric’s expression slowly cleared, his gaze penetrating as he contemplated me, the silence lingering. Then eventually, he nodded. “The honor is ours,” he said, as if the words were ritualistic. For all I knew, they were.

Some of the men left to fetch their horses while three others stayed with those that had been paralyzed. Their recovery was progressing swiftly, but they were not yet on their feet. Two more stayed to let Lira see to their wounds.

“Is your father’s hall in a village?” I asked, while we waited.

Malric folded his arms across his chest again and nodded. “A holding,” he corrected me. Maybe this was him being friendly, or maybe his pride was still injured from my original refusal. It was difficult to tell when they showed so little of their emotions.

“Malric is the Kinflame,” one of the men said proudly, and the weight he gave the title was obvious. It was equally obvious he was the chieftain’s son; perhaps the title meant exactly that.

“My name is Keldar,” I said, picking a common Valoran name and deliberately choosing one that began with the letter ‘K’ after Lira’s earlier slip. I gestured to the girls. “My wives. Selene and Lara.” I used the first names that came to me.

“I am Leif.” The man who had declared Malric was the Kinflame slapped his chest with one hand. He was a big man with a barrel-like chest, and like most of the men, his hair was blonde. He wore it loose, but his beard was plaited, tied with a single loop of iron. “I am the talon for the clan.”

I blinked hearing the title. “You’re the talon?”

“Yes,” Leif said proudly, pulling his shoulders back.

“Is that like a fang?”

Leif grinned, a surprisingly uncharacteristic reaction amidst Saromirans. “You know more of our ways than I expected, friend Keldar. A fang is the right hand of a warlord. Our clan answers to no warlord, so none of us are fang. As talon, I am the leader of the warriors.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I had heard that the clans were unifying under the banner of Morvak.”

Leif nodded, regarding me seriously, his levity gone. “It is true that many clans are preparing for war and sending their warriors north to Krennar.” He grimaced in distaste. “The Valroth clan does not care for the religion that has grown around Morvak.”

“You talk too much,” Malric grumbled.

Leif shrugged. “Keldar is a blood friend.” He stepped forward and offered me his forearm, grinning again as I clasped it with my own.

Maybe I’d misjudged the Saromirans. Perhaps they were capable of being as open as any other folks, and my impressions of Malric and their initial reticence had swayed my judgement. But Fang—Drakos’ lieutenant—had been equally stoic. Maybe it was Leif who was the oddity.

Except I now knew that Fang wasn’t the name of the warrior I’d met at all—and I didn’t know what it was. I was tempted to ask Malric and Leif, assuming they’d know of Drakos, but I didn’t think it would help to bring that name into the conversation.

The men were soon back with the horses, and they rode with us as we walked the short way to where we’d left ours, tethered near the path.

“The hall of my father is an hour northwest of here,” Malric said as we mounted. His dark mood from earlier seemed to have slowly cleared, and he spoke with the enthusiasm of presenting us as honored guests. “My father is Ravik Valroth, Claw of the Valroth clan and a great warrior. His shaman will no doubt be glad to meet a Valoran shaman.” He glanced at Lira as he said this, unable to hide the curiosity in his gaze.

Yet more attention we didn’t need.

“Perhaps our assistance in your fight might be downplayed,” I said carefully, trying to imitate their formal way of speaking. “You and your men were holding off the spiders before I joined, and I was late to the battle at that.” This was stretching the truth of course, but the men straightened in their saddles and nodded in pride. Malric narrowed his eyes at me, but I doggedly carried on. “I would prefer it not to be known that my wife is a mage. We wish to travel through your beautiful country in peace, to find my friend and do what we came to do.” It wasn’t a complete lie; if I could end Morvak without killing anyone else, I’d regard that as a successful trip indeed.

Malric regarded me in his stoic way, holding his words while we all waited. It was surprising how long he could go without talking, and even more surprising that I was growing used to it. I didn’t think he was slow of mind, for intelligence shone in his eyes. He was just careful of his words. His impassiveness made it hard to judge his thoughts; he looked equally capable of bursting into raucous laughter or drawing a sword and trying for my head.

Eventually, he spoke. “I do not claim to understand you, Keldar of Valorah, but you are a blood friend, and I will honor your wishes.”

I nodded in what I hoped was a suitably grave way. “Thank you, friend Malric.”

“Come,” Leif said, his grin returning. “Let us find a feast and return to our wenches. A battle like that deserves both!”

We turned our horses, following the path northwards toward the mountains. Another shadow darkened Marlric’s face as Lira and Senna rode up beside me, but he kept his opinion to himself. There was no way I was relegating them to the back of this group; I wanted them where I could see them. The men had accepted us as Valorans; they could manage one more minor upset.

“Your women are capable,” Leif said as we rode. He phrased it half as a statement, half as a question.

“Yes, they are,” I said, letting some of my own pride shine through. Malric rode the other side of Leif, his eyes forward and his back rigid, but it was obvious he was listening hard.

“I have never heard of a woman shaman before.” He nodded toward Lira.

“She’s a healer,” I said, trusting Lira wouldn’t be too offended with that simplistic appropriation. It seemed better to downplay her role—if it wasn’t too late.

Leif nodded appreciatively. “Either way, a valuable woman to own.”

I smiled diplomatically at the compliment, but internally I couldn’t help be amused. The girls saw themselves as mine, but would be irked to be referred to as property. I hoped Senna, in particular, wouldn’t press the issue. She could be fiery and rash, and I could easily see her challenging a Saromiran warrior to a duel. That wouldn’t go down well.

Especially when she won.

“Both my wives are valuable,” I said, aiming to both deflect and mollify. “They have much to offer.”

I caught Senna’s eye and saw her wry acceptance, but to my relief, both Senna and Lira remained quiet, sensing the need to ride along in silence like good, demure, Saromiran women. They were both playing the role. Lira understood the need for diplomacy—and had already gained more attention than we wanted. But Senna was impulsive. Any provocations could easily change her mood from amusement to belligerence.

“I am certain they do,” Leif grinned good-naturedly, and one of the Saromirans surprised me by giving a short laugh.

I held Leif’s gaze, my own expression now practicing Saromiran stoicism, and I spoke firmly. “I acknowledge that I am a stranger in your lands, but I trust my wives and I can depend on you for the respect we’ve earned.”

“Do not worry, my prickly friend,” Leif said. “No man here will risk your ire. Especially after seeing how you fight.” He grinned again, then sobered. “Besides, you have well earned the blood debt this day.”

I nodded, satisfied. It wasn’t just his words so much as the way he’d said them; I felt the Saromirans were men of honor, despite the way they treated women. In fact, I felt the girls were safer with this warband than they had been on the streets of Faronis. It made me glad I had intervened in the fight with the spiders.

“Why were you all in the spiders’ nest?” I asked as we rode.

Leif and Malric led us off the road to the west, and they both glanced at each other before Malric answered me. “The spiders killed a hunting party a few days ago. We found their bodies wrapped in their webs, and traced the creatures back to their nest.” He grimaced, uncomfortable. “We underestimated how many there were; it was a larger nest than we anticipated.”

“Your men died near here?” I asked, a foreboding premonition chilling my spine.

“Yes,” Leif replied. “Not far from here at all.”

I didn’t want to inquire further, in case they associated their deaths with the passage of my ‘friend’. But I wondered if Elara had encountered the hunting party, and the spiders had merely taken advantage of the corpses she’d left. The timing fit.

“How far to your village?” I asked Malric instead, changing the subject.

“The holding of my father is only a few leagues on.” Malric glanced at the afternoon sun, pale behind dense grey clouds. “We will arrive in plenty of time for the evening meal.”

The delay rankled, and our chances of catching Elara before she reached Morvak’s stronghold were diminishing. But we couldn’t refuse Malric’s hospitality without giving offense, and with the import the Saromirans gave to honor, the damage might be enough to negate even the blood debt that allowed them to see me as a friend.

It would do us no good to make enemies of these men, and after getting to know them a little, I found I liked them. If I wasn’t prepared to let them die before, I certainly couldn’t kill them now, merely to hide our presence.

It didn’t leave me many options but to go with them peacefully, accept their hospitality, and hope we could leave early in the morning.

Meanwhile, perhaps this was an opportunity to learn more of Saromir, and maybe even of Morvak. That information could yet prove more valuable than the time we would lose gaining it.

Chapter Nine

“Welcome to clan Valroth,” Malric said with pride as their village came into view through the trees. While the afternoon had not yet pushed into evening, dusk was already falling, and the heavy clouds made it feel gloomy. Yet the village had a homely and friendly feel to it.

Much like the other settlement we’d seen, there was a staked palisade around the perimeter, with open entrances to the north and south. There were dozens of buildings within, each long and low, built of logs with steep triangular roofs covered in green moss, and arrayed around a central area with a large, dormant firepit. Young children ran around naked, entirely oblivious to the cold, and several women wearing kirtles like Lira’s and Senna’s stood watching them. There were few men in sight, and most of those were elderly, sitting on stools and smoking pipes or just watching the children play.

As we rode in, more of the residents emerged from their houses, and a giant of a man stepped out of the largest longhouse, folding his arms across his powerful chest as he watched us. Several dozen men followed after him, each wearing the hardened leather jerkins that marked them as Saromiran warriors. Most of them had tankards in their hands.

Children and women ran up to greet the returning men with cries of “Pata! Pata!” as the younger ones clung to the legs of their fathers, laughing as they were dragged along by the horses. No one bothered to restrain them or comment on the risk of falling and being trampled. One enterprising youngster of nine or ten gave an impressive show of strength and agility, vaulting up on a horse to sit behind his father.

We dismounted in the main area before a building that was clearly a stables, and the men dispersed to greet various women with open affection. One of the younger men who had no children clinging to him picked up a good-looking girl and spun her around while she tried to muffle her giggle. Then he drew her in for a passionate kiss, uncaring that others were watching.

But not everyone received a greeting. Several women stood alone, some with wide-eyed children clinging to them. Their faces were grave, the pain of loss apparent in their eyes and the rigidness of their stances. Malric swung a leg over the neck of his mount and jumped to the ground, then approached the nearest of those women.

“Therok died bravely, Velkira,” I heard him mutter. “He was a true warrior.”

The woman nodded, eyes shining with unspilt tears, but her expression was as resilient as any of the men’s. “I appreciate you bringing me news of my husband.”

The same scene played over again with another half-dozen women as Malric greeted them individually, giving a different compliment for each fallen warrior. The newly widowed women stated her appreciation in turn, none showing any more emotion than a ramrod-straight back. Even the children remained quiet. Only when Malric was done did he turn toward the longhouse, and the man that waited.

The other returning warriors left their women and children and fell into step behind him.

“Come, Valoran,” Leif said, slapping me on the shoulder with one large hand. “Come and meet Ravik, Claw of the Valorth clan.”

Senna and Lira followed behind as we walked through the holding, a few dozen paces after Malric and his men. As Malric reached his father, Leif stopped short, folding his arms across his chest. Taking the hint, I waited beside him. We were close enough to hear what was said, but far enough that neither Ravik nor any of his men acknowledged us.

Standing before his father, the resemblance between Malric and Ravik was clear: both had the same square jaw and the same large, hooked noses; both had long blonde hair tied back, and both men had powerful chests and shoulders. But despite being father and son, they didn’t hug or even grasp arms.

“The hunt was successful, Pata,” Malric announced. “The spider nest was found and destroyed.”

“Good,” Ravik said, “but I see you return with fewer men.”

“We lost six, father. We would have lost more had it not been for this man.” He turned to gesture to me. “His name is Keldar, and he is a fierce warrior. We owe him blood debt.”

Ravik looked over as though he’d only just become aware of my presence. “Welcome to our holding, Keldar,” he said, his face giving away nothing of his feelings. “Clan Valroth honors the blood debt.”

I inclined my head with as much solemnity as I could muster. “Thank you, Claw Ravik. Your men are fierce fighters.”

Ravik stared at me for a long moment, but after meeting his son, I was prepared. I held his gaze and waited patiently. “Come, then,” he said at last, turning away and heading back into the longhouse as the men behind him made way. “You must be hungry and thirsty.”

We all dutifully trooped after him, and those that had come out with Ravik waited until we’d passed between them before following us in. Several of them slapped the backs of Malric’s men and murmured words of greeting. Leif, in particular, was welcomed warmly. No one greeted Malric or me, though several of them stared in surprise as Senna and Lira followed along behind.

It was surprisingly warm within. The longhouse had a fire roaring in its center with several deer roasting on spits above it, tended by adolescent boys dressed in kirtles, their chins without beards. Tables set end-to-end ran the length of the hall on both sides, while behind them there were numerous alcoves, each laid with furs. If that signified the sleeping arrangements, privacy was minimal.

A man laid his hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “Your women wait outside,” he said gruffly. “They are not welcome here.”

Leif turned as he heard him. “These are honored guests, Crelyn. The women, too.”

His voice carried through the longhouse and many of the men turned to watch. Ravik and Malric paused too, regarding the interruption. Ravik glanced at his son, his face reflecting nothing, but Malric answered as if an unspoken query had been made.

“We owe Keldar’s wife—” he began, then hesitated as he glanced at Lira, “—our hospitality too.” I could see him fighting with the urge to announce the blood debt they owed Lira, but he said nothing more.

“Women? Here?” A new voice echoed through the hall as a man dressed in furs walked out of a room at the far end. He carried a carved staff in one hand, and the skulls of birds and other small animals hung on leather tethers around his neck and shoulders, draping down across his chest. “What is this, Malric?”

Malric stiffened before he turned back to face the new arrival, who must surely be their shaman. “I have explained already, Tarkon,” he said, his tone sharper than I had anticipated. “My men and I owe Keldar a⁠—”

“Blood debt. Yes, I think we all gathered,” Tarkon replied dryly. “The issue is not Keldar, but his women. Who has invited them here?”

It might’ve been easier to ask the girls to wait outside, but I didn’t want them out of sight. Besides, Leif had said nothing of it. I stayed quiet.

“I have,” Malric said, drawing himself up.

“My son no doubt has his reasons,” Ravik said in a rumbling voice.

“No doubt.” Tarkon gave Ravik a glance, then looked down the hall at me. “And I, for one, would like to hear what those reasons are.”

Malric folded his arms across his chest. I knew whatever answer was forthcoming would be one we all had to wait for. The silence lingered as we waited for him to reply.

“Honor comes above customs. Keldar and his wives are not Saromiran,” he said at last. Somewhere else, such a surprising announcement might be met with a sharp intake of breath from those gathered, but here, a few of the men betrayed their shock by blinking.

“Oh?” Tarkon said, walking down the hall toward Malric, his staff echoing on the wooden floor with each step. “Where is he from, then?”

I thought it was time I spoke for myself.

“Valorah,” I said, the sound of my voice drawing many pairs of eyes. “Our customs concerning our women are different to yours.”

Tarkon regarded me with curiosity. “A Valoran? You are a long way from home.”

“We are visiting Saromir while we follow a friend who rode ahead of us.” I smiled, spreading my hands wide. “We are simple travelers, enjoying the hospitality of our neighbors while our nations are at peace.”

Tarkon narrowed his eyes. “For now,” he said.

“For now,” I echoed, agreeing. “And I hope it will remain that way for a long time to come.” It would, if I could stop Morvak.

Ravik began walking again, brushing past the shaman. “We will welcome the guests of my son with honor. Bring food and drink.”

The warriors took that to be an end to the drama, most of them taking seats at the tables. Leif slapped my shoulder again. “Come, I will find you a seat.”

I followed after him through the hall, with Tarkon staring at me every step of the way.

“Your shaman is interesting,” I murmured to Leif as we sat on benches at the top table. The only chair was the one Ravik sat in, at the head. Lief seated me next to Malric, one down from Ravik, then swung a leg over the bench and sat beside me, with Senna and Lira the other side of him. The girls remained quiet, eyes downcast, and I could only imagine how much it was costing Senna not to make snarky comments.

“He has been here a long time,” Leif said noncommittally, but it was more what he hadn’t said; it wasn’t an accolade. I’d picked up on the friction between Tarkon and Malric, and wondered what the story was. Even Ravik had brushed past him somewhat dismissively.

Still. It wasn’t any of my business, and we wouldn’t be staying long enough to get involved.

Malric glanced past me at Leif with a look that made clear he’d overheard the comment, but he said nothing.

The rich scent of roasted venison made my mouth water. Smoke drifted up from the fire and into the eaves, then slowly found its way out of the chimney. But it wasn’t efficient, and my eyes soon prickled in the haze. The boys in kirtles cut strips of meat and hunks of bread, placing them on large platters which were passed around, and the men served themselves. Beer flowed freely.

Ravik and Malric discussed the hunt, and I caught snippets of their conversation. A lot of it was about my involvement, and Ravik glanced at me often. Leif relaxed further as he quaffed tankard after tankard of the dark, nutty ale they served, and a pipe appeared in his other hand. Clouds of blueish-gray smoke hung around him, mixing with the haze from the fire, carrying a sweet scent. Between puffs, he was telling me a story about Malric as a boy that he thought was amusing. Malric heard enough of it to occasionally interrupt his conversation with his father to glare at Leif, but it didn’t stop the tale continuing.

There was an empty seat immediately to Ravik’s left, conspicuously left vacant. I nodded toward it. “Who usually sits there?” I asked Leif.

“Tarkon,” Leif said curtly, his lips pressed thin in disapproval. “His absence is a calculated insult.”

“To me?” I asked. Not that I cared.

“To all of us,” Leif replied, clattering his pipe against his teeth. “But mostly to Malric, as it was him that invited you.”

Saromiran customs and politics were confusing, but I for one was glad not to have to eat while Tarkon glared at me.

I drank little but was hungry enough, and Lira and Senna also barely touched their drinks. We caught each other’s eyes from time to time; Lira was as serene as ever, while Senna looked bored.

“Where are you from in Valorah?” Ravik asked me as he leaned across the table.

“Of late, Norathil,” I replied. “Though I have a house in a village to the south of Taralith. Do you know the country?”

He shook his head. “Not to speak of. I know of Norathil, of course, but I have had no reason to leave Saromir.”

He’d just confirmed, in his way, that he hadn’t been part of the invasion earlier in the year. Clan Valroth hadn’t supported Drakos.

“I hear it is much warmer there,” Ravik added.

“Yes,” I said. “Winter has only recently arrived, and it was mild when we left.”

He sniffed. “Warm weather makes men softer. There is no strength without hardship.”

I blinked at that, and said nothing.

“Perhaps that is why your women are your equals,” Ravik continued, musing as he rubbed his beard.

I thought of Elara, who would defeat any of the warriors he had. Senna too, for that matter. “My women are capable in their own right,” I said somewhat more sharply than I’d intended.

Ravik surprised me by grinning, then turned back to his conversation with Malric.

Leif leaned into me. “He was jesting,” he murmured, blowing blue pipe smoke over me. “He is known for his dry wit.”

“Oh,” I said. With how expressionless the Saromirans typically were, it was impossible to gauge when they weren’t being serious. Maybe if I got to know them more, I’d be able to detect the hints of humor. Still, it was a comfort to know they had a sense of humor. I’d had my doubts for a while there.

With Ravik and Malric talking together again, I engaged Leif in conversation. “Earlier, you said that a religion had grown up around Morvak, and that the Valroth clan did not care for it.”

He nodded, puffing on his pipe. “It is true.”

“Do you practice a different religion?” I asked delicately, wondering how to shift the topic to what I really wanted to know.

“We worship the spirits,” he said loudly, banging his half-full tankard on the table. Beer sloshed out onto the wood. Around him, several of the men chorused a rumble of assent, and there were mutters of ‘Spirits’.

“Forgive my ignorance,” I said. “In Valorah, there is not much religion, but mostly we invoke the name of Sharlath.” On the other side of Leif, Lira hid a small smile behind her hand. “What spirits do you worship?”

“All of them,” Leif declared. “Life and death, fire and earth, wind and sun. All spirits that live with us and through us.”

It sounded reasonable to me. “Why, then, would your countrymen follow Morvak?”

“A good question, Valoran,” Leif said, draining his tankard again then banging it down on the table. One of the serving boys hurried to refill it from a large wineskin, as he had several times already. “The shamans in Krennar say Morvak is a god.” Leif grimaced, showing his distaste. “He is being worshipped above the spirits.”

“Are your views shared by the other clans?” I inquired in what I hoped was a casual way.

“Some of them.” He glanced at Tarkon’s empty seat, then lowered his voice. “Even our shaman has suggested we follow Morvak. But Ravik won’t hear of it.”

That was all I needed to know. “Krennar,” I said, changing the subject before it drew too much attention. “That’s where the warriors have been gathering?”

“Yes,” he said, and puffed on his pipe. “It is a stronghold far beyond the mountains.”

Where Morvak’s pyramid was. “Interesting,” I said, trying to sound apathetic, like I didn’t really care. “I think I might stay away from there, then.” I gave him a self-deprecating smile. “How far over the mountains is it?”

“About three weeks,” Leif said. “Across plains, mostly. A barren, dull landscape. No good trees there.”

I nodded. That matched the maps Lira had taken, but it was good to have confirmation.

“And the mountains?” I asked casually. “Are they difficult to cross?”

“This time of year?” Leif drew on his pipe as he considered it. “Possible, but not easy. It will not be long before they become impassable, until spring arrives.”

That wasn’t good news. We still had a week to travel until we reached them.

“Why are they impassable?”

“Storms, blizzards, avalanches, the cold,” he listed off, waving his pipe for emphasis. “And ice giants, of course, who would soon as tear your limbs off as look at you.”

“They are ferocious creatures,” said the man opposite, interjecting into the conversation. Up until now, he’d been talking to the man beside him, carefully avoiding looking at Lira or Senna, but the subject matter had clearly piqued his interest. “They stand ten feet high or more, and they are almost invisible in the ice and snow.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That large, yet almost invisible?”

“It is true,” the man said, bristling as though I doubted him. “The snow swirls around them, and even from a dozen feet away you cannot see them until they throw a boulder at you.” He puffed out his chest and gestured to it with his thumb. “I have seen them crush a man.”

“It is true,” Leif said, and the phrase was echoed by some of the other men nearby, listening in.

“You intend to cross the mountains?” Ravik asked, also drawn into our conversation.

“I hope not,” I demurred with a smile. “But my friend was heading north, and if I cannot catch them soon…” I trailed off with a resigned shrug. Cannot? Can’t? Their way of speaking was contagious.

Ravik glanced past me, his thick brow creasing as he glared, and a moment later a hand fell heavily onto my shoulder.

I twisted on the bench to see a warrior looming over me. He had a tankard in one hand and a haunch of venison in the other, and the grease from the meat had matted his thick beard. He drained his tankard and flung it away, then thumped his large chest with his weighty fist.

“I am Drenvar,” he announced in a voice that carried.

“Hi.”

“You bring women into the longhouse of the claw,” Drenvar said, prodding his half-eaten venison an inch from my face to emphasize his words.

Uh huh. “These are my wives,” I said lightly.

“It is an insult,” Drenvar declared, his voice even louder than before.

Behind him, near the alcoves, I saw Thakor watching on.

“You are the insult,” Leith said, not bothering to turn to face the other man. “Keldar is our guest. Sit down, Drenvar. Have some more ale.”

“It is an insult!” Drenvar repeated. He prodded me in the chest with his half-eaten haunch. “I, Drenvar of Valroth, challenge you!”

Chapter Ten

“Of course you do,” I sighed.

I turned back around to use one of the rags on which the men cleaned their hands to wipe the grease off the middle of my leather jerkin. “What are the customs of your challenges?” I murmured to Leif.

“Do not turn your back on me!” Drenvar yelled in affront, his hand landing on my shoulder again and yanking me back to face him. He was strong.

Leif turned too this time, fixing Drenvar with a cold stare, but he spoke to me. “A challenge can be anything: a drinking match, a fight, an arm wrestle.”

“Who chooses?” I asked. Drenvar had clearly already consumed quite a lot of the heady ale, but his tolerance was probably far higher than mine. Maybe my resistance rune could help.

“The challenger,” Leif said.

“A duel!” Drenvar announced in the same moment.

I almost smiled.

Leif was shaking his head as he looked at Drenvar in despair. “You are aware, are you not, that Keldar is here because of the blood debt he earned fighting alongside our warriors in the hunt?”

“I care not!” Drenvar boomed. “I have challenged this outsider!”

Now Malric was shaking his head too, and Ravik was watching Drenvar like he was something distasteful on the sole of his boot.

I regarded the man with wry amusement. “I accept.”

Ravik shifted his frown from Drenvar to me, and even Malric looked up with surprise in his eyes.

“What?” I asked, wondering what custom I’d trodden on now.

“The terms of the duel have not yet been agreed,” Leif answered me.

I suppressed a sigh. “What are the terms?”

“To the death!” Drenvar shouted, his arms spread wide. Some of the men banged their mugs on the table in response.

I frowned and turned to Ravik. “I don’t wish to kill your warriors.”

“Hah! As if!” Drenvar thundered, but I ignored him, keeping my eyes on the clan leader.

Ravik returned my gaze steadily, and for a moment I thought he wasn’t going to intervene. But I’d forgotten how long he and Malric took to choose their words. He shifted his gaze to Drenvar. “Do I need remind you that Keldar is here through blood debt?”

Drenvar hesitated, but it wasn’t Ravik he turned to, it was Thakor. That was interesting. Had the shaman put him up to this?

Whatever guidance Drenvar might have expected didn’t seem to be forthcoming, for Thakor didn’t move. Drenvar turned back to me. “Fight until a man is crippled and unable to continue then.” He sneered. “Or until you surrender by running away.”

I was planning to leave anyway, but I could defeat this man with one hand tied behind my back. I wasn’t about to show cowardice just to get an earlier start. Besides, night had fallen. And if I was honest, I was enjoying the company of Leif and the other men. Or had been, before this pointless interruption.

This whole thing was a farce, and it was best to just get it over and done with.

“All right,” I said to Drenvar as I got up from the table, “Let’s get on with it. Where are we doing this?”

My challenger looked taken aback. “Now?” he asked.

“Yes, now,” I said. I glanced at Leif. “Challenger chooses the time, I presume?”

“He does,” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. He drew on his pipe.

I sighed and sat down again. “Why challenge me if you don’t want to fight now?” I asked Drenvar, but addressed my comment to the room. I shook my head and picked up a juicy piece of meat.

“We fight now!” Drenvar boomed from behind me.

I turned slowly, the meat in my hand. “Don’t feel rushed on my account.” I took a bite. Then thoughtfully added, “Though I am leaving in the morning.” I felt it was fair he knew.

“You come with me now!”

“Are you sure this time?”

“Yes! We fight now!”

“You wouldn’t rather wait until morning?” It only seemed polite to check.

“No! I challenge you now!”

“Oh, good.” I cleaned my hands on a rag and stood up again. “Shall we go, then?”

Drenvar threw his venison across the tables and into the fire, then strutted ahead of me toward the door.

“Out of curiosity,” I asked Leif as we followed him, “what happens to the loser?”

“They lose,” Leif muttered, and drew on his pipe.

“Yes … but I mean, what are the stakes? Any forfeit? Any implication?”

“It’s an honor fight,” Leif said with a puff of blue smoke, as though that explained it.

“Just honor?” I pressed.

He glanced at me sideways, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “There is nothing more than honor.”

“So win or lose, there are no consequences?”

Leif raised his eyebrows at me. “The consequences are your honor.”

I took that as a no.

Outside, we waited while some of the men lit four flaming torches mounted on chest-high poles, and used them to mark the corners of a large square on the grass. The warriors ringed it, ensuring a decent viewing position, and I noted that even some of the women wandered over. Some men grabbed their wives—or perhaps merely a convenient wench—pulling them close as they waited for the entertainment to start.

With nothing to do but wait, I took a moment to focus on my opponent and view his info card:

He was quite good. He was also well out of his league.

Behind me, Senna gave a sigh. She placed a hand on my shoulder and murmured in my ear, “You get all the fun.” Leif surprised me by giving an actual chuckle, having obviously heard her. Maybe the ale had relaxed the dour Saromirans.

Drenvar stepped into the square and drew a sword like my own—straight and double-edged. “Come, outsider!”

I didn’t really want to do this, but I couldn’t see another way. Resigned, I pulled my own blade; I wouldn’t need two for this.

Activate God Power.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

That was fine; I’d only need about thirty seconds.

“We fight until you surrender, right?” I asked Drenvar.

He growled at me and took a well-practiced stance, as befitted his skill level and experience.

“Does someone say—” Begin. But evidently they didn’t, because Drenvar was already coming in.

He thrust his blade at my chest, the move strong and competent. I diverted it an inch to my side with the edge of my own sword, stepped forward inside his guard, and rested the point of my weapon against his throat. He froze, his eyes widening.

“Would you like to try again?” I asked politely.

Drenvar took a hurried pace back, his sword coming back on guard.

I stood casually, my own blade pointing down at the grass.

This time, he rushed toward me like a bull, his weapon held high, ready to slash down. Ravik had said no killing, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t survive a hit like that—at least, if I hadn’t been immortal.

I waited until he was almost on me, then slipped to the side and tripped him as his blade came down. Off-balance, his sword stuck into the grass, and he sprawled after it. I wasn’t sure tripping one’s opponent was acceptable in a Saromiran duel, but there were no cries of outrage. Judging from the appraising glances in the torchlight, several of them considered it neatly done.

Drenvar pushed himself to his feet and growled, then retrieved his sword. He turned to glare at me, but maybe the lesson was sinking in, because there was none of his bluster. Yet he still took a guard, readying his weapon.

This time he came in with more skill than he’d shown before, offering a feint toward my head that turned swiftly into a slash to my side. Our blades crossed twice, then I flicked my wrist, diverting his blade wide. He barely hung onto it, the hilt shifting in his palm. I could’ve killed him then, and from the expression in his eyes, he knew it too.

I leveled the point of my sword at his sternum. “Another turn, or are we finished now?”

“We are finished now,” he grated out through gritted teeth. “I surrender, and I apologize for insulting you.”

“No harm,” I said, sheathing my sword. His blade was still out, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t the Saromiran way to strike an unarmed opponent. Besides, he wouldn’t land the blow if he tried. “I am sorry that the presence of my wives upset you. They’re very nice once you get to know them.”

I gave him a smile and walked past him, back to where Leif and the girls waited. The watching warriors were silent, and even Ravik was staring at me in surprise. Malric had his arms folded across his chest, looking bored, but he inclined his head toward me an inch. From him, that was effusive praise.

“Where did you learn to fight like you do?” Leif said, amusement shining in his eyes.

“Self-taught,” I muttered, aware of all the ears listening. I looked around for Thakor, but the shaman had disappeared.

Ravik led the way back inside. We’d been out only long enough to get some fresh air.

“Most fun I’ve had all evening,” Senna muttered to me, and Lira gave me a wink.

“We’ll leave in the morning,” I told them while I could. We’d fulfilled our obligations of honor, and I’d learned something of their thoughts of Morvak. It was time to be gone.

“Farewell, Valoran. It was good to meet you,” Leif said, and gave my horse a slap on the neck.

“I hope you find your friend soon,” Malric said, his arms folded across his chest. “It would not be wise to linger in Saromir longer than you need.”

“Thank you both,” I said gathering up my reins and giving them a nod. Beside me, Senna and Lira waited on their own horses. “With any luck, I’ll catch my friend before they reach the mountains.”

Leif gave me one of his rare grins. “You can call her a woman, you know. We’re not stupid.”

I blinked down at him.

Leif shrugged. “If she had been a man, you would have said ‘him’ at least once by now.”

“It felt prudent not to,” I muttered, embarrassed to have been caught in a lie of omission with these men.

He shrugged again. “We value women too, in our own way.” Then he surprised me by nodding to both my girls. “It was a pleasure to meet yours”—he raised an eyebrow—“or two of them, at least.”

I chuckled, not denying the implication, and raised my hand in farewell, keen to be back on the road. “Thank you for your hospitality. Perhaps we’ll get a chance to return the favor someday.”

“Perhaps,” Leif said, then stepped back to stand beside Malric.

I turned my horse, and led the girls out of their village to the north.

We were a half mile away before I exhaled in relief.

“Am I allowed to talk again?” Senna asked.

I grinned at her. “They weren’t so bad, were they?”

“Some of them were all right,” she said. “I liked their concepts of honor. They … felt better than some of the men I’ve met in Valorah, if you know what I mean.”

“They were fine,” Lira said. “I liked them. I just wish I’d had a chance to meet some of the women.”

“Would you have preferred to sit with them?” I asked, curious.

“I would’ve liked to better understand them,” Lira smiled at me. “But I’d much rather be with you.”

I nodded, glad to hear I hadn’t got it wrong. “Yet now we’ve lost another day on Elara.”

“Actually, we haven’t,” Lira said. “I scryed her this morning before we left, but didn’t get a chance to tell you. She’s still where she was yesterday morning.”

“She hasn’t moved at all?” I asked, surprised.

“No. She’s about six days travel north—five if we push it.”

“Then let’s push it,” I said, kicking my horse forward.

I was keen to catch up to her, though I knew there was no way we’d intercept her before she crossed the mountains. No doubt she had finally stopped for a day of rest and would be on the move again soon, but I was still hopeful we could reach her before she got to Krennar.

We fell back into our usual routine, save that for the first few hours the girls talked more than normal. After the evening of enforced silence, it was nice to not have the weight of Saromiran culture resting on us all. Despite the need for a fast pace, the horses could only be pushed so hard, and we had to rotate through our usual walk and trot for most of the day, leaving plenty of time for reflection. I spent much of it meditating.

That evening, we camped a short way off the road, but before we erected the tent, I pulled up my intuition rune to search for threats. I didn’t want to run into any more of those spiders.

Leif had given us venison and bread wrapped in linen, so we didn’t need to hunt. We ate around our fire, listening to the quiet of the night.

“Has Elara moved?” I asked Lira.

She took a moment to cast her scrying spell, her hands glowing with silver and gold magical tendrils while Senna and I waited. “No,” she said when she was done, and the magic had faded away. “She’s still where she was.”

“Good,” I said. “Maybe her horse is lame.” I didn’t want anything bad to have happened, but I’d take any advantage that enabled us to close the gap.

“For now, there’s nothing to do but sleep,” Lira said pointedly.

“Oh yes,” Senna agreed quickly. “I’m so tired.” She stretched her arms out in what was blatantly a false yawn.

“I could do with a hot shower,” Lira commented. “Two days without a wash, and I’m cold to the bone.”

“Make it big enough for all three of us, please,” Senna asked, as she jumped up and started pulling off her kirtle. “Hurry up, Kaelan. It’s too cold to be naked without the warmth.”

With the practice I’d had over the past weeks, I’d gotten the hang of my shower rune now. I could more easily control the size and flow, and I hadn’t accidentally knocked Senna over after that first time. She’d begun to trust me again. Either that, or the benefits of a hot shower outweighed the risks.

“I’m glad you’re back to ‘Kaelan,’” Lira said as she rose as well. “‘Keldar’ didn’t suit you.”

“Still better than ‘Nigel,’” I muttered to myself, then kicked off my boots and began to get undressed too.

Picking an area well clear of the tent, I pulled up my hot shower rune, blending water and fire aspects, and we dashed beneath it before the cold could raise too many goosebumps. The girls pressed up against me, and then the hot water sprayed down on us all.

“This is divine,” Lira said as she ran both hands through her hair. “And I mean that in all senses of the word.”

“Who brought the soap?” Senna asked, then made a face as Lira and I stared at her blankly. “Crap,” she said, and dashed for a saddlebag. We grinned as we watched, her small firm breasts jiggling as she ran, and she was gasping by the time she was back under the warm spray.

“I’m not looking forward to going for the tent,” she said, pressing her now-cold body up against me. Fortunately, the water soon heated us again.

We had fun washing each other, and my mana had dipped significantly by the time we decided it was time for sleep.

“Do you have a warm drying rune in that magic of yours?” Lira asked me.

“Er … maybe?” I had an air rune, and if I could use it with my fire in the same way I did with water, then it was feasible. It might also make a jet-powered flame thrower and burn the tent down, and us with it. Magic was all about intent, but I wanted to test it before I used it. “I’ll try in the morning,” I said. “For tonight, we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

We ran for the tent before the cold air could bite too deeply into our damp skin, and snuggled together beneath the blankets for warmth and to dry off. The bedding would be moist for a while, but our body heat would eventually redeem that problem.

Both girls pressed up against me, and their hands began to roam.

“He’s still damp,” Lira said to Senna, like I wasn’t lying there in the middle of them.

Senna slid her hand across me to caress Lira beneath the blankets. “He’s not the only one,” she said, as Lira gave a soft sigh.

It got dark so early that none of us were tired, and with nothing else to do, we spent a couple of fruitful hours entertaining each other.

Chapter Eleven

“She’s definitely still there,” Lira said as her silver and gold magic faded from her hands.

We looked through the trees at the holding ahead, some five days north of clan Valroth. The village was much the same as the last: a wooden palisade, a number of large longhouses, and smoke drifting up from numerous chimneys.

“Why hasn’t she moved?” I asked no one in particular. By this point, we were sure something was amiss. Even if her horse was too injured to carry her, I was certain Elara would’ve had no issue with taking one at sword-point. One thing Saromirans didn’t lack was horses.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Lira said. “How do you want to play it—wait until dark, or try a more open approach?”

I grimaced. We’d already had this discussion, but were yet to come to a conclusion. The palisades of sharpened logs mounted in the ground were too dense, tall, and spikey to easily climb, and each village only kept a couple of openings. Some of the ones we’d passed even had gates, and so did this one. They were open now, but there was no guarantee they would be come nightfall—which was only a couple of hours away.

Both sneaking in and a more overt approach had their pros and cons, but if breaking in at night went wrong, there’d be a high body count—and the villages held women and children. Besides, I liked the Saromirans. They weren’t at all like Drakos’ men had been. So far, at least.

“We’ll try it the simple way,” I said, and Lira nodded. I’d been leaning toward avoiding conflict, and it wasn’t a surprise.

“Well, goodbye speaking,” Senna said dryly. “I get to stare at the ground for the rest of the day.”

“If we get the choice, we should eat with the women this time,” Lira said. “It would simplify the cultural aspects, and it’s not like we have a blood debt to help us.”

“We could go find some spiders, lead them back here, and then save the village,” Senna suggested.

I gave a chuckle, hoping she was joking. “Come on. Let’s go and find out what they’ve done with our girl.”

We pulled back from the tree line and mounted our horses again, then rode openly toward the village. We were spotted well before we reached the guards on duty.

I reined up before the open gate, the girls behind me like good Saromiran wives, and we waited. It didn’t take long for a guard to approach.

“Who are you, Stranger?”

“Keldar,” I said, giving my chest a thump in Saromiran style. I felt it lacked the gravitas of when Leif did it, but then he was a couple of weight classes ahead of me.

“What brings you here?”

“The hope to trade for some supplies, and a meal and a roof for tonight if one was offered,” I said, in my best Saromiran voice. Don’t smile, I reminded myself.

The guard folded his arms across his chest, which anywhere else would mean ‘fat chance’, but here could be a prelude to a warm invitation to marry his sister. “With winter on its way, we don’t have much to spare for trade, but if you have gold, we might come to an arrangement.”

“That is acceptable,” I said, nodding gravely as though he’d just told me my father had died. Which, ironically, would be perfectly acceptable—I hated the old bastard.

“Head on in,” the guard said, moving to the side of the path. “The stables are on the right, and if you want to trade, ask for Zoryn.”

I gave him a nod, still not sure what the Saromiran was for ‘thank you’—I’d never heard a Saromiran use the expression. He said nothing as we rode slowly past, merely watched us after refolding his arms across his chest.

The holding was as similar to clan Valroth’s inside as out, only larger: a few more longhouses, a few more people milling about. There were plenty of children running around—many of the younger ones barely dressed, even though there was a biting chill in the air—and a bustle of warriors and their women as they got on with their lives. We passed a group of men sawing logs from felled tree trunks, while several others sat on the roof of one of the longhouses, doing repair work. A blacksmith worked a forge, his hammer ringing against the anvil, and a group of warriors on foot and armed with bows and arrows passed us heading toward the gate—presumably out for an evening hunt.

No one offered us a greeting or even showed much curiosity, aside from the odd glance our way, and we rode deeper into the village.

There was the remains of a large bonfire in the center of the village, and many of the longhouses had winter wreaths decorating them—branches of holly, ivy and pine—often set around hand-carved symbols of the sun.

Lira gasped when she saw them. “We’ve missed solstice!”

“Oh that’s a shame,” Senna said dismally, “we could’ve celebrated with Kaelan.”

“When was it?” I asked.

Lira was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed as she tried to work it out. “Yesterday, I think. I’m sorry, I lost track of days on the road.”

“We’ll have our own private celebration when we get the chance,” I said. “For now, let’s focus on Elara.”

We continued our way through the village, and the ground sloped up gently toward the largest longhouse of all that sat at the top of the small hill. Behind it, the mountains in the distance poked up above the trees—gray, spikey and snow-capped—and less than a day away.

We’d caught Elara before she crossed over, but why was she still in this village? And where was she?

“I wonder if the mountain pass is already blocked,” I mused. “Perhaps that’s why she’s still here.”

“Could be,” Lira muttered quietly. “Let’s ask.”

I nodded subtly, and we followed the gate guard’s directions to find the stables.

There were two men hanging around outside, sitting on stools, one of them puffing on a pipe amidst a haze of blue-gray sweet-smelling smoke. He waved over a boy in a kirtle, who held our horses’ bridles while we dismounted, then led them away.

I walked over to the two men, reminding myself not to be too pleasant. “Is Zoryn around here?”

The man with the pipe turned to gesture further up the hill. “That longhouse,” he said, pointing casually in a way that encompassed three buildings somewhere to the right of the slope.

I nodded. Then I channeled my best Malric, stared up toward the mountains, and paused for what felt like a really long time. “Is the pass still open?” I asked when I thought I’d waited long enough.

“Far as a I know,” he grunted.

So that wasn’t what had kept Elara here.

“We are passing through,” I said, like it was news. “Do you get many strangers here?”

Both men looked at me, saying nothing. I waited for a while, but this didn’t seem to be Olympic levels of Saromiran contemplation; I simply wasn’t getting an answer.

I turned away, heading up the slope toward where they’d said Zoryn could be found, the girls following a step behind me. It was irritating; I couldn’t talk to them without turning around. But that was how the Saromirans did it.

The problem with visiting Zoryn was that we didn’t have any money. Or rather, all the gold we were carrying was Valoran. It would raise more questions than offer solutions, unless I could come up with a good excuse for having it. Still, seeking Zoryn allowed us a reason to continue through the holding, and we still hadn’t found Elara.

“Do you know where she is?” I muttered over my shoulder to Lira.

“Not without scrying,” she murmured back. We didn’t want to advertise her magic again.

For lack of anything better to do, I wandered up the gentle slope toward the three longhouses. All of them had their main doors opened, and I glanced inside as we walked past the first. It seemed to be a standard living abode with tables through the center, a firepit, and alcoves for sleeping. Communal arrangements were common for Saromirans, even though a few private rooms existed off the main hall—as honored guests of the Valroth clan, we’d been given one. Or perhaps it was because we were Valorans.

The next longhouse we reached was the supply depot we’d been looking for. Through the open doors I glimpsed piles of furs, barrels of beer, smoked meat hanging on hooks from the rafters, and open crates of fruit and vegetables stored for winter. There were several men inside moving stores around, while another stood watching, his arms folded across his chest.

A man walked past me, heading up the slope, and I raised a hand to stop him. “Which of those is Zoryn?”

“Him,” he said, pointing to the man with the folded arms. He made to carry on, but knowing who Zoryn was didn’t help me. Perhaps this man could be more use.

“I just arrived here,” I said, falling into step beside him as we walked toward the large longhouse in the distance. “I heard a rumor that you had another visitor who is here still.”

“You mean the female warrior?”

Finally. “I did indeed. Where is she staying?”

The man gave me a look with an expression I couldn’t place, but that was typical of Saromirans. “The claw has her near his longhouse,” he said, nodding up toward the top of the hill.

“Interesting,” I said in my most apathetic voice, and stopped walking. “Maybe I will wander up that way.”

The man kept going without saying anything further or looking back. In some regards, interacting with Saromirans was surprisingly easy: there was never any bullshit, no social niceties to obey, and they never seemed to care what I said or did, so long as I didn’t impinge their honor.

I checked there was no one in hearing range, and glanced at the girls. “Apparently he has her up there.”

“I caught that,” Lira murmured. “Do you think she’s a prisoner?”

“How can she be?” I asked. “Piss her off, and she’d level the whole village.”

The man I’d spoken to was still walking up the slope, but he was far enough ahead that we could follow by ourselves. We continued onward, wondering what we would find when we finally located my paladin.

We walked past more longhouses, the main hall and the seat of the claw growing closer—assuming this clan, like the last, used the longhouse at the apex as the main hall. As we approached, I noticed an object sitting on the grass to one side of the building. It was low down, maybe waist height, and the rusty red-brown color of weathered iron.

“Is that … a cage?” Lira murmured.

It was. Barely large enough to contain a single person, and a figure lay on the ground within. I didn’t need to see her face to know it was Elara. She was lying on her side, facing away from the rest of the village, and her blonde hair was loose, dirty and matted. She wore only her gambeson, her legs and feet bare. There was no sign of her armor, or her weapon.

I felt my anger uncoil in my stomach that they could do this to her. She was being kept like an animal. It wasn’t even a prison, it was merely a cage, and a small one at that. How had this happened?

There was no guard nearby, only a few men walking around as they tended to their affairs, and all of them ignored my paladin and her iron pen.

I stopped a few dozen yards away, and had to force myself to unclench my fists. Then I turned away, and met the gaze of Lira and Senna.

“What now?” Lira voiced the question on all our minds, her eyes filled with worry.

“We’ve found her,” I said through gritted teeth. “We could just take her, and fight our way out.”

“Tempting,” Senna agreed, looking over my shoulder at where Elara lay. Her expression reflected her anger, mirroring my own feelings.

“It is,” Lira said quietly, her usual calm replaced with barely suppressed emotion. “But then we’d have to kill all of them.”

I knew she meant the innocents in this village who would no doubt be pulled into the fighting.

“We should start by talking to her,” Senna said. “Check to see how she is.”

“It would draw immediate attention,” Lira answered quickly. “I assume that’s why we’ve stopped?”

“Yes,” I said. “If we go nearer, she might see us and give us away. I’m wondering if we should return later, in the night—break her out, grab some horses, and just go.”

“Start a fire maybe,” Senna murmured. “Cause a distraction to draw them away. Like in that supply store.”

“They’d definitely respond to that,” Lira agreed.

But I shook my head. “With winter coming, any significant damage would jeopardize them here. Anything less than that would still piss them off enough that they wouldn’t let us escape without a fight.” I took a breath, trying to calm myself. “I’d prefer to do this peacefully if we can.”

“Do they deserve that with how they’ve treated her?” Senna asked me.

“We don’t know what they’ve done yet, other than imprison her,” I said quietly. “If they’ve done more than that … they will pay.”

“Damn right,” Senna muttered.

“Do you have a plan?” Lira asked.

“I think I’ll go with Senna’s suggestion and have a chat with Elara, first. Then I’ll talk to the claw.” I turned back to face her cage and began walking toward it, the girls close behind. “Then, depending on how that goes, I’m either going to see if he’ll let us take her with us, or resort to the first plan and burn this entire fucking village to the ground.” I shrugged. “I’m winging it.”

“Suits me,” Senna said.

No one stopped us as we walked up to the cage. Elara lay motionless, as though she were asleep. Only the gentle movement of her back as she breathed assured me she wasn’t dead.

“Elara?” I said quietly as we reached her.

Her back stiffened, showing she’d heard, but she didn’t react beyond that.

“Elara, it’s Kaelan.” I spoke more loudly.

She curled up tighter, drawing her knees in against her chest and gripping them with both arms, and pressed her head forward into them.

I glanced at Lira in confusion and saw it reflected in her own expression. She stepped closer.

“Elara?” she said gently. “It’s Lira. Are you all right?”

The only response was a slight tightening of Elara’s arms.

Lira gave me a look, then knelt down beside the cage. We were well past the point of being subtle now, but still no one had come over to see what we were doing.

“Talene?” Lira said quietly. “Is Elara there?”

Elara made a noise that was half sob, half laugh. “Talene is gone,” she said, her voice muffled by her knees. “She’s gone … at last.”

Lira glanced at me again, her expression a mix of concern and confusion, then she gripped the bars of Elara’s cage and leaned in closer. “Are you all right? We’re all here for you. We’ll get you out.”

“No,” Elara said, the word emphatic and clear. “Leave me here, and go do what you need to do.”

I walked around the cage until I wasn’t facing her back any longer. It didn’t much help; her hair hid her face, and it was still buried against her knees. “Why would we leave you?” I asked. “You’re part of our family. Part of our hearts.”

She muttered something in response, but I didn’t catch the words, only the tone, and it was bitter. I looked at Lira, who was closer, but she only shrugged helplessly.

I dropped to one knee beside the bars. “What did you say?”

“I said I failed,” Elara answered, her head coming up enough for me to catch a glimpse of her face, streaked with dirt and tears. “I failed in everything. I don’t deserve to be part of our family, Kaelan. I don’t deserve … I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re my paladin,” I said slowly.

Three men were walking toward us; they were some of the largest Saromirans I’d seen, a few dozen yards away and coming on quickly. They weren’t in any rush, but our time was nearly up.

“Not anymore,” she replied, hiding her face again.

“You swore an oath to me,” I tried, keeping half an eye on the approaching men. “What of that oath?”

“I’ve broken it too many times to count,” she said. “I failed.”

“Have they hurt you?” Lira asked gently.

Elara gave a bitter laugh that carried a hysterical edge. “They hurt me?” she said. Then she spoke again, her voice calmer. “No. No, they haven’t hurt me.” She lifted her head and looked straight at me. “Leave me here. This is where I belong, now. Just forget about me, Kaelan.”

The men had arrived.

“Kaelan?” the one at the head of the group said, looking at me. “Your name is Kalean?”

Elara looked up at me as she heard him, her eyes wide with horror.

Chapter Twelve

The man addressing me was a typical looking Saromiran: big in all ways, with long blonde hair tied loosely back and a beard plaited into two silver rings. He wore the usual leather jerkin of a warrior, with bare arms—no woolen shirt or cloak, despite the cold.

“It is,” I said, standing up slowly. It was too late to deny it when he’d heard Elara say it, and nothing I could do about her feelings at giving them my name.

The man folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing. “You told the man at the gate it was Keldar.”

I think I did at that. “Perhaps he misheard.”

The man didn’t even blink. “Perhaps he did not.”

With nothing to say, I gave a small shrug as if it didn’t matter. “Well, my name is Kaelan.”

“Salok,” the man said, giving his chest a thump.

Damn, in all the excitement I’d forgotten to do the chest-thumping thing. No wonder they hadn’t accepted my name.

Salok gestured with his thumb to the man to his right. “Kyros.” His thumb pointed left. “Maldrak.”

I gave them a nod, and didn’t bother to introduce the girls.

“You have an interest in her?” Salok asked, pointing with his chin toward Elara.

I took my time to answer, for once grateful to the Saromiran way of not speaking until a man was ready. It was obvious we’d been speaking to Elara, so pointless to deny it. We could’ve done with a few more minutes, too, as I wasn’t sure Elara was ready to accept our arrival. Still, that didn’t really change anything.

“We came for her,” I said, deliberately using the collective. “I’m Valoran, and so is she.” And, with relief, re-opening the world of contractions.

Salok nodded as though this wasn’t a surprise. “Makes sense, I suppose.” He looked up at the gray sky that was beginning to darken with the onset of dusk, but I didn’t get the impression he was checking the weather. He seemed to be thinking. “We cannot let you take her,” he said at last, though it wasn’t delivered aggressively, merely as if he was stating an irrefutable fact.

“May I ask why?”

He flexed his arms, folded across his chest. “She killed a lot of my warriors.”

Elara gave a small sob at my feet.

“I see,” I said slowly. “Was it a fair fight?”

Salok inclined his head as though I’d scored a point. “It was combat, yes, but I am not sure how ‘fair’ I would call it. She does not bleed like most do.”

So Talene hadn’t completely gone, then. Unless that had happened after they captured her.

“Is that why she’s caged?”

“No,” Salok said, his gaze steady. “She crawled in there willingly.”

I blinked at that. “You went in voluntarily?” I asked Elara. She shrank further into herself, and said nothing.

“Perhaps we should have a drink,” Salok said to me. He seemed to see my hesitation, for he then added, “Your women can stay here if you wish. No harm will come to them.”

I had no reason to doubt any Saromiran’s word when they had acted with nothing but honor. Besides, Senna and Lira could handle themselves, and nothing would keep me from getting to them if I heard a ruckus. Lira gave me an almost imperceptible nod, but that only reinforced the decision I’d already made.

“Thank you,” I said, introducing my Saromiran hosts to a Valoran phrase.

Salok nodded, then to no great surprise led the way toward the main hall. I’d figured he was a man of importance here—the talon perhaps, if not the claw himself.

The two men with him—Kyros and Maldrak—waited for me to follow before bringing up the rear, like bodyguards, or maybe lieutenants.

The hall was largely empty save for a few warriors sitting at the tables with tankards of ale. I couldn’t fault the Saromiran attitude to drinking, and hoped their stores of beer would last them the winter. There were ropes of dried berries, nuts and straw twisted into garlands lying across several of the tables, and various depictions of the sun—more signs of the recent solstice celebrations.

I hoped they’d at least given Elara some decent food the day before.

Salok walked to the top table, confirming his obvious seniority, then dropped into the chair at the end that, at least in clan Valroth, had been reserved for the claw. He waved me to the seat beside him, opposite the one his shaman would take. Kyros and Maldrak sat themselves on the benches too, one next to me, the other opposite, but carefully leaving a respectful gap for the absent shaman.

“‘Kaelan’ is an unusual name,” Salok said once drinks had been brought. His sat before him, untouched, and I ignored mine.

“It’s Valoran,” I said guardedly.

Salok didn’t smile, but his lips twitched as though he’d considered it. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s an unusual name for a Valoran.”

Which was probably true, given that I’d made it up.

I knew what he was alluding to; no doubt my name had reached Saromir, what with the defeat of Drakos—twice—and the subsequent return of his men. Salok’s position near the mountain pass probably ensured he had regular travelers bringing news—such as the name of the new King of Valorah.

Still, it seemed unwise to admit who I was, especially before I knew where his allegiances lay. And with his warriors dead at Elara’s hands.

I’d been quiet long enough even for Saromiran tastes, and Salok nodded as if to accept I had nothing more to say. “The female warrior … is she yours?”

Another tricky question; an answer either way could make things more complicated.

“Yes,” I said after a moment. Something told me this man would appreciate what truths I was willing to share.

“I saw you talking to her. Does she wish to rejoin you?”

I shifted on the bench. “She is … disturbed by what she’s done,” I said, thinking it was likely he already knew that. Especially if she’d voluntarily entered the cage herself. In that, I had no reason to doubt him. “She will, in time.”

“You are confident?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes.”

Salok stared at me for a long moment, then slowly inclined his head. “Such confidence says much of a man’s mettle.”

I nodded again, trying to avoid thanking him too often.

He watched me thoughtfully for another measured interval. “If I give her to you, what will you do?”

“Leave,” I said, without hesitation.

“And if I do not?”

It was my turn to linger on my words, partly to force down the anger that had no doubt flashed briefly over my face. I chose in the end to answer his question with one of my own. “Why wouldn’t you?”

He gave a small shrug; quite expressive for a Saromiran. “She did kill many of my warriors.”

“I regret that,” I said honestly. “She believed herself to be at war with Saromir. We have had … incidents.”

Another nod. “So I have heard.”

“Did your clan fight with Drakos?” I asked bluntly.

“No,” Salok replied. “Drakos was a warlord from the plains. The clans that followed him were not of the forest.”

He used the past tense, confirming he knew Drakos was dead.

“Then I regret it further,” I said. “Did Elara know that?”

“She did, after the event.”

“Before or after she went into the cage?”

“Before,” he said slowly, watching me.

“I see.” I took a drink from my tankard while I thought. “Is there something I can offer you in exchange for her freedom?”

Salok shifted in his chair and both lieutenants tensed, letting me know I’d erred again.

“I do not barter for the lives of warriors,” Salok said flatly.

I inclined my head. “I meant no offense. I am unused to Saromiran ways.”

He nodded briefly, accepting the apology. “I am of the mind to⁠—”

I never found out what mind he was of, for at that moment a man walked out from the top of the hall. Salok stopped speaking as soon as he heard the footsteps on the wooden floor, and the bang of the staff that followed in time with them. I glanced up to see a shaman approaching, wearing furs, feathers and skulls similar to the dress of Tarkon. This one seemed older, his staff no less gnarly. He approached our table.

“This is the stranger?” he asked, by way of introduction.

Salok answered without looking up. “Yes. A Valoran by the name of Keldar.”

I might’ve blinked, but neither Kyros nor Maldrak so much as twitched as Salok casually concealed my true identity from his own shaman. It was interesting that both he and Ravik seemed to have fractious relationships with those that literally sat at their left hand—unless I was reading too much into it.

“I gather he showed an interest in the female warrior.”

“Most men do,” Salok said dryly. It didn’t surprise me; around here, Elara was unique. Hell, she was unique anywhere.

The shaman nodded. “Welcome, then,” he said to me, and walked off down the hall, his staff banging with every other step.

I stared after him, trying not to frown. He’d shown far too little curiosity for my liking, not even commenting on my nationality. Then I glanced back at Salok to find him watching me.

The claw leaned forward, propping one elbow on the end of the table. “As I was saying,” he said, his voice dropping to barely a murmur, “I am of the mind to let you take the female warrior. However, if you do so, it will be with your word that you will make no war on Saromir.”

That was a binding contract indeed—unless I chose to break my word.

I wondered again if he knew who I really was, and if he was asking me, as God-King of Valorah, not to make war on his people. Perhaps that was why he had concealed my identity.

“I give you my word I will not make war on Saromir,” I said, “with two exceptions.”

He nodded slowly, then gestured with his hand for me to continue.

“First, except where Saromir makes war on me.”

“Naturally,” he said, conceding the point.

“Second, against those Saromirans that support one who practices a … false religion.”

His eyes narrowed, a reflex he was too slow to hide. There was a lengthy pause as he stared at me. “Agreed,” he said at last.

I exhaled slowly, covering my relief. He’d just acknowledged I knew of Morvak, and that his clan didn’t support this ‘new religion’. Perhaps that too was the domain of the clans north of the mountains—except that Leif had confirmed that many forest clans had sent warriors to join them.

Yet I wondered if I’d given too much away. Salok might have shown his hand regarding Morvak, but I’d practically told him I was heading to the stronghold, and not with peace in mind. I couldn’t decide if he’d led me to that admission subtly and deliberately, or if it were as straightforward and as innocent as it appeared. For all their stoicism and honor, I wondered how much guile Saromirans possessed.

Salok leaned back in his chair. “It is late in the day, and the evening feast will be soon. Stay as our guest tonight, and leave in the morning.”

I couldn’t fault the hospitality of this country. “Agreed,” I said. “I would be happier if my wives could join me this evening.”

“Of course,” he said, pushing himself up to stand. I rose too, as did the two quiet lieutenants. He turned to Maldrak. “Let the men know their wives will eat with us tonight.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Find our guests a room,” Salok added.

“Of course,” Maldrak said.

“Thank you,” I said again. He had thought of everything.

Salok nodded to me. “The meal will be in two hours.” Then he walked past, heading for a group of warriors at another table, the conversation clearly over.

“I will send a man to fetch your wives, and show you to your room,” Maldrak said. He called over a warrior, and sent them off to get Lira and Senna. The man didn’t look too happy to be given such a task, but he set about it regardless.

“I have never been to Valorah,” Maldrak said while we waited. “I hear it is too warm.”

I smiled. “I am told that enduring the cold makes men stronger.”

“That is self-evident,” he said, as if anyone would be a fool to doubt it.

I wondered what Saromir was like in the spring and summer, but kept my thoughts to myself.

Lira and Senna came in soon afterward, eyes lowered as they approached us. Maldrak led us to the top of the hall and showed us to a side room that roughly matched the location of the one Ravik had lent us.

“Until the meal, then,” he said, and walked off.

I led the girls into the room, closing the door behind us.

“How is she?” I asked quietly.

“Damaged,” Senna said, flopping wearily down onto the furs in one corner that doubled as both a resting area and the bed.

“She is suffering from a great weight of guilt,” Lira added. “She feels she’s betrayed your trust, and is unworthy of continuing as a paladin.”

“Damn,” I said, dropping with a sigh to the furs beside Senna. I pulled up my character sheet, as I had dozens of times since Elara had gone off alone, but she still showed as my companion. Having now seen the state she was in, it gave me less comfort than it had before. “Is this because of the men she’s killed?”

“Yes,” Lira said. “She didn’t say much, but from what she did say, I gather Talene was largely in control. The demigod was…” Lira grimaced. “Talene was trying to win your favor.”

I blinked. “She was what?”

“She was going after Morvak, and treating any Saromiran in the way as your enemy.”

“Uh huh,” I said. I thought back to the oath Elara had given me during the ceremony Lira had arranged. It had involved a lot of talk of swords and proving her worth. “From the perspective of an unstable demigod possessing a paladin sworn to me, that … makes a certain sense.”

“Mmm, quite,” Lira said, dropping to her knees beside the furs. “But Elara didn’t share that view, obviously.”

“No, she wouldn’t have,” I agreed. “So they fought for control?”

“So it seems,” Lira said.

“And now Talene is no more?”

Lira waggled her head side-to-side. “I’m vague on that point.”

“But Elara is in control,” I pressed.

“Yes … for now,” Lira said carefully.

I raised an eyebrow. “You think we haven’t seen the last of Talene?”

“The artifact must still be bound to her, holding her side together, otherwise she would be unable to move.”

“I see your point.” I sighed. “Do you think she’ll recover?”

“I suspect that ultimately depends on her bond with you, my love,” Lira said. “But knowing you as I do, I’m sure she will.”

“Will she agree to come with us when we leave?”

“We’re leaving?” Senna asked.

“In the morning, yes,” I said. “Salok—the claw here—has agreed we can leave and take Elara with us.”

“Well done,” Senna said, impressed. “How did you get him to agree to that?”

“I’m not sure I did,” I replied. “He was the one to suggest it, in exchange for peace.”

“For peace?” Lira said in surprise.

“Yes. It seems there are those in Saromir that don’t want a war with Valorah.”

“Did you agree?” my High Priestess asked.

“I did, with caveats.” I shrugged. “I don’t want a war either, but we have to be able to defend ourselves.” I dropped my voice to a murmur, out of caution. “And deal with Morvak.”

“Good,” both my girls said in unison.

“So what now?”

“Not much we can do,” I said. “Relax until dinner and hope Elara has had time enough to reflect come morning.”

Chapter Thirteen

I awoke with a splitting headache.

The floor beneath me was hard. I was outside, and it was dark. When I tried to move, I discovered my hands were bound at the wrist. Then I banged my head on what felt like iron, and winced as it enflamed the pounding in my head.

I was wearing only my shirt, leather trousers, and boots, and it was very cold.

There was enough light for my night vision, and I could see I was in a cage, much like the one Elara was in. There were two more cages near me, along with the wall of the longhouse. One held Elara, who was watching me through matted blonde hair. Senna was in the other one, unconscious but still in her kirtle.

Where was Lira?

I turned, groaning as my sore head objected.

“You are awake,” a man said. He sat on a log nearby, carving a piece of wood with his knife. He wasn’t Salok. He wasn’t even Maldrak or Kyros. One of his other warriors, then.

Memories returned: the dinner; the women in attendance—many of them lively and engaging, strong-spirited and pleasantly surprising; sitting with Salok and his men; drinking. I’d drank some, not much. My predicament wasn’t a result of overindulgence.

We must’ve been drugged. So much for Saromiran guile.

“Why am I here?” I asked the man. My throat was dry, the words came out raspy, and the effort of talking made me cough.

The man said nothing but rose from his log, walking off toward the longhouse. Maybe to fetch Salok.

I took the opportunity to inspect my cage. The bars were made of iron, and a sturdy padlock held them closed. I could probably melt it with my fire rune, given time.

If they thought tying my hands was going to stop me, they were very much mistaken.

I tested the bonds anyway, but I’d been tied by someone who knew what they were doing. I wasn’t strong enough to break myself free, and I doubted I could boost my strength enough to make a difference, even with my god powers. Which was irritating.

It was dark, but it didn’t seem that late. Perhaps I’d been unconscious a day? I pulled up the digital clock in the corner of my screen, and it was barely 7 PM. A day, then. I wasn’t hungry enough for it to have been more than one.

The warrior returned after only a short interval, and this time he held a flaming torch for light. Salok and Maldrak were with him.

I lifted my bound hands by way of greeting. “Is this your idea of honor? Drugging and capturing us?”

To what little credit he deserved, Salok looked uncomfortable. “Warriors don’t condone such methods, but what’s done is done.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“This is not my doing.”

“Really?” That was tough to believe, lying as I was in a cage next to his longhouse. “You’ll be happy to untie me and let me out, then.”

“Regretfully, that is not something I can do.” He folded his arms across his chest, staring down at me impassively. “You are an enemy of Saromir.”

“We had an agreement. Is that now as worthless as your word?”

Salok bristled, anger flashing in his eyes. After the stoicism of our previous interactions, there was plenty of emotion flowing this night. “I did not do this.”

“I note you’re not undoing it, either.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “The shamans have decreed that you remain a prisoner.”

I frowned, recalling his shaman was not at the dinner. “Why did you not simply kill me?”

“I told you: this is not on me. But to answer your question, the shamans think you are Keldar, a warrior from Valorah. Not the king that you are.”

So he did know who I was. Next time I awoke in a foreign world, I’d choose a name that was more common. Not ‘Nigel’, though.

Yet Salok could’ve told them, and he hadn’t done so. And he’d said ‘shamans’, in the plural.

“The shamans arranged this?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Why?”

He shifted again, his arms tensing across his chest. “They wanted your shaman. The woman.”

Lira.

“Is she … alive?” I pulled up my info sheet before he answered, and she was still showing as a companion. Did that mean she wasn’t dead?

“She will not be harmed,” he answered while I was looking. “They wanted her alive.”

“Why?”

“Because she is a shaman, and a woman. They were … curious.”

I banged my fists against the bars. “They took her because they were curious? Where I come from, people fucking ask questions if they’re curious!”

Salok regarded me impassively for one of those long Saromiran pauses that were quickly beginning to grate on my patience. Or maybe he was giving me time to calm down. I took a breath, letting it out slowly.

“You are an enemy of Saromir,” he said again. “They felt they were justified.”

“There was more than one,” I said, making it a statement not a question.

He inclined his head. “A shaman came late yesterday, from clan Valroth.”

“Tarkon,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Indeed,” Salok confirmed. “Apparently, he knew the woman was a shaman. Were you aware of this fact?”

I assumed he was asking me if I knew Tarkon had learned of it, not if I knew my own wife had magic. Someone had told Tarkon. I wondered if it was Malric or Leif, but that didn’t ring true. Neither of them seemed to care much for their shaman. Maybe one of the other warriors had let it slip, likely after a night of drinking.

“My wife healed some of their warriors when they were injured on a hunt,” I said, wondering if that fact would gain us any leniency.

“Did she now?” Sarlok raised an eyebrow in astonishment. “That would explain it, then. Our shamans lack healing magic. No wonder your woman intrigued them so.”

That was because they worshipped spirits, and not a god—if Aratus, the former priest of Sharlath, was correct, healing magic was always divine. Was that the reason for their interest in a ‘new religion’? It was hard to believe they’d go to such steps for the altruistic desire to heal.

“Taking my wife won’t change that fact for them.”

“Perhaps not, but they may think they can use her for that purpose.”

My anger was already coiling restlessly inside me, but now it threatened to burst out. “If they harm her, I’ll kill them all.”

Salok was unimpressed by my threat. “I think this may be why they required you to be detained.”

“And you do what they tell you?”

He shrugged his large shoulders. “They have a certain power among the clans, and with Drakos and Morvak, it has been growing. They have many supporters. When it does no harm to give them what they want, it is … politic to do so.”

“Your honor be damned, eh?”

His jaw clenched in anger. “You are still an enemy of my people.”

“One that agreed not to make war on Saromir—unless they made war on me, first.”

Salok gestured abruptly at the cage. “You are in no position to threaten me. You are not dead because I did not tell them who you are. Do not test my patience.”

He turned and walked off, and his men followed without a glance at me.

I watched them leave, my anger warming me despite the cold.

“That went well,” Senna said from her cage nearby.

I rolled over to face her. “Are you all right?”

“Splitting headache. Otherwise, yes. I caught most of that but not all of it.”

“They’ve taken Lira.”

“Yes. That bit I heard.” She shifted in her cage. “That thing you do when you die and come back in places. The ‘respawn point’, you call it? Can you control where you return?”

I stilled, staring at her in amazement. I never realized she’d understood so much. “Yes.”

She nodded. “Does Lira know that?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe.”

“Then she’ll no doubt make a new respawn point for you.” She grinned, showing her teeth. “You can drop right in.”

I rolled on to my back, staring up at the dark sky through the bars of my cage as I focused, pulling up my settings window and accessing the respawn menu.

Default respawn point:

Temple of Kaelan, Norathil City, Valorah.

Available respawn points:

Top floor, The King’s Head Tavern, Faronis.

Top floor, Merry Minstrel Tavern, Lorimel.

Bed, Farmhouse, near the road, 3.2 miles west of the village of Fernwick.

Kaelan’s bed, Kaelan’s bedroom, Kaelan’s house, village of Fernwick.

Bivouac, copse of trees, field, 2.9 miles northwest of Taralith.

I set the respawn point for Faronis as the closest location, and closed the menu.

“She hasn’t done yet,” I said with a sigh. “If she’s under guard or bound like we are, she may never have the chance. It wouldn’t be easy anyway. I’d have to die” —twice, given my Undying Will— “and it would mean leaving you and Elara.”

“I’m sorry, Kaelan,” Elara said quietly from her cage. “This is all my fault.”

With my anger still pressing on me, it would have been easy to snap at her and agree. But it wouldn't have been fair. “This isn’t your fault. Perhaps some of the blame sits with Talene, but this is on me as much as anyone.” I shook my head as I stared upward. “Something like this was always a possibility. I should’ve anticipated it.”

“What do we do now?” Senna asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “Given time, I can break out of this cage, but to do so would draw attention. They might respond with violence.”

“Probably,” Senna agreed.

If they killed me, I’d be in Faronis, two weeks away. If they killed Senna … It wasn’t worth the risk. Not yet. I didn’t know if they were capable of killing Elara—or if she’d even care if they tried.

“I think Salok may yet be an ally,” I said, musing. “What has happened does not sit well with him, and he didn’t tell the shamans who we are.”

Senna grunted. “A long, cold night, then.”

“Are you warm enough?” I asked. Elara might be almost invincible, and I had my fire rune. Perhaps I could use them to warm her cage … without burning her in the process.

“I’ve been warmer,” she said.

“You remember the bath in Lorimel?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“I can try something similar with your cage. Let me try it on my own first, to gauge the temperature.”

“All right. Can you do it for all of us?”

“I can do it twice. I’ll rotate it between us.”

“I don’t need it,” Elara said quickly. “The cold doesn’t hurt me.”

I sat up as much as my cage would allow, and stared at her. “You need to dump this guilt-trip bullshit, and you need to do it right now. You are not to blame for what Talene has done, and you’re the one who took control back from a demigod. You’ve punished yourself long enough.”

It might not have been PTSD therapy by the book, but it was the best I could do. Elara had a solid core of responsibility and justice within her, and I could only hope she was strong enough to weather this. And hope my words wouldn’t make her guilt worse.

Elara stared back at me, her eyes wide beneath her dirty blonde hair. Then she nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know you are,” I said more gently. “Now come back to us, Elara. Bring back the paladin we need.”

“Do you still want me as your paladin?” she asked tentatively.

“More than ever,” I said firmly, holding her gaze.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll … I’ll do my best.”

It was enough for now. I gave her a nod, then settled back down and focused on runes to keep us all warm through the night.

With the need to maintain my runes, I got no sleep, but I was pretty sure Senna had drifted off for a few hours.

Fortunately, my mana had regenerated as midnight ticked over into the new day, and I’d had enough to keep us warm, trickling it into my fire rune with careful intent—and no shortage of emotion. It transpired that anger worked well with fire, which was no surprise. It also helped that the iron cages conducted heat very quickly.

I still had a third of my mana left as men began to move around the camp, and somewhere a cockerel crowed.

There was frost on the ground, but not near our cages. I wondered if they could fail to notice, and what it might mean when they did.

Shortly after dawn had broken, a warrior arrived with gruel served in three tankards—small enough to be pushed through the bars—along with a wooden spoon, which was difficult to use with my hands bound. The gruel was warming, if not particularly tasty. The warrior showed no surprise that we’d somehow survived a freezing night without suffering from hypothermia. Perhaps, for a Saromiran, it was no great feat.

“Where’s Salok?” I asked him.

“Busy,” he replied, and wandered off.

Great.

I resolved to give it a day, and if nothing had changed, tomorrow night we’d break out. I’d wait until midnight, when my mana replenished itself. I wasn’t prepared to wait any longer, and wondered if it had been foolish to not try something the night before.

Yet my concerns were still valid. Any attempt to magic my way out of the cages was sure to raise the alarm. Even if we were able to get out, we still had the problem of getting to horses, and obtaining sufficient gear to be able to survive wherever we went next. Senna had her clothing, but no cloak. Elara had only her gambeson and undershirt.

I was more certain of Salok eventually choosing to aid us than I was of our escape potential. After all, it had been him that had sought peace with me. I knew that thought would be plaguing him.

Yet the morning dragged by, with no sign of Salok appearing to set us free. I began to have my doubts, questioning if I’d read him right, and whether we should have simply broken out during the night and faced the violence that would’ve inevitably resulted.

“Kaelan,” Senna said my name tentatively. I glanced at her, and she was looking past me, down the slope, into the village. “Is that who I think it is?”

I turned awkwardly in my cage to see a group of warriors walking up the slope toward us. There were a half dozen of them, and at the head of them were two men I hadn’t expected to see again: Malric and Leif.

I watched as they approached, talking to Kyros as they came. It was too soon for this to be a coincidence, especially with the arrival of Tarkon the day before yesterday.

They didn’t go to the main hall, though one of the warriors peeled off from the group, presumably to make Salok aware. The others came straight to us.

“Valoran,” Leif nodded to me, as though we’d run into each other riding casually through the forest.

“Afternoon.” I nodded back.

Leif puffed on his pipe as he surveyed our predicament, then waved it at me. “Is your cage as comfortable as it looks?”

“What brings you here?” I asked, ignoring his question.

“Tarkon,” Malric answered me. “We missed him the same day you left. When he had not returned by that evening, one of the men said he had been asking questions about your woman.” He grimaced. “He admitted he had let slip what we had agreed to keep quiet.”

That sounded almost like an apology. I could well imagine what he was leaving out, such as how he and Leif had discovered what had been shared. Given the perceived impact on their honor, I could imagine them being pissed. Was that why they were here?

“Unfortunately, you’ve missed him again,” I said drily. “He’s taken my wife and left.”

Salok arrived then, fetched by the warrior that had gone into the main hall. He’d clearly been briefed in that short time, for he asked no questions on seeing Malric and Leif, his face as impassive as ever.

“I take it you know this man?” Salok addressed the pair.

“We claim blood debt on him,” Malric said. “We would have him freed. His women, too.”

“My warrior said you were here for the shaman,” Salok replied.

“That too,” Malric said. “But we did not know Keldar was here.”

I glanced at Salok, wondering if he was going to share my identity with these men. If he didn’t, maybe I’d have to tell them myself—at the right time.

“Open the cages,” Salok said to no one in particular, and Kyros gestured to a warrior. The man produced a key, and soon the padlocks were removed, the sides of the cages levered up.

My legs were beyond stiff from disuse, and I had the indignity of having to crawl out while they all watched, hampered by my bound wrists. Senna let out an involuntary groan of discomfort as she pulled herself free, but Elara showed no signs of being the worse for wear, despite having been in her cage for a week. She was the first to her feet, and I staggered to mine a moment later, holding the side of the cage for support.

The men watched in silence.

I lifted my wrists; a subtle reminder. The guard that had opened the cages took out his blade, cutting me free. I rubbed them while I waited for my blood to flow again, standing unmoving while my legs throbbed with pins and needles.

“I am glad men have come to speak for you, Keldar,” Salok said, using my false name as if he were making a point. “It did not sit well with me keeping you like this.”

I fought to resist glaring at him, thinking his little speech was as much for Malric’s and Leif’s benefit as my own.

“Why did you then?” Malric asked pointedly, and I enjoyed watching Salok tense as he tried to find a response.

“What is done is done,” he said after an awkward pause. He turned his attention to Malric. “Do you know where your shaman is going?”

“My warrior suggested they are taking the woman to the shamans at Krennar.”

Salok grunted. “I thought as much.”

“They have almost a two-day head start,” I said. “If we are finished here, I would like to go after them.”

“We will come with you,” Leif announced with a puff of his sweet-smelling blue-gray smoke.

I glanced at him in surprise, and Malric nodded.

“That is kind of you,” I said carefully. “But you’ve done enough. I appreciate you coming to speak for me.”

“Do you know your way over the pass?” Leif asked, waving at the mountains with his pipe.

“No…”

“Then we will come with you.” He sucked on his pipe again. “Besides, we have a blood debt.”

I gave a dry chuckle. “Very well. What do you intend to do when you catch up with Tarkon?”

Leif narrowed his eyes, and when he spoke his tone was flat. “Bring him back to Valroth.”

“It will take you a week, if not two, to cross the pass,” Salok said.

“I am aware,” Leif said.

“In two weeks, the weather will have worsened. Crossing back again may not be so easy.”

Leif nodded. “I am aware.”

Salok flexed his arms across his chest. “A warrior such as yourself may well survive the journey. A shaman as frail as Tarkon may well not.”

Leif grinned back at him, in complete disregard for Saromiran stoicism. “I am aware,” he said again.

“In that case,” Salok said, “perhaps you could bring Raloth back too.”

“Your shaman?” Leif asked around his pipe.

Salok nodded.

“If you wish,” Leif said, with a puff of blue smoke. “Though he might not survive the journey.”

“I am aware,” Salok said.

It seemed the shamans had outlived their usefulness, and that was an interesting comment on Saromiran religion and politics.

“The sooner we can leave the better,” I said.

“I will have horses made ready and your armor and weapons returned to you,” Salok said.

“Some supplies would be useful,” Leif commented wistfully, staring up at the featureless grey sky that promised snow.

“And some supplies, of course,” Salok added without a glance at Leif.

“Thank you,” I said.

Salok regarded me for a long moment. “I hope our agreement still stands,”

I clenched my jaw, but my anger wasn’t truly directed at him. “I still want peace between our people.”

“There is daylight left,” Leif pointed out diplomatically. “It will not remain if we chatter.”

I nodded. “We’ll leave as soon as the horses are ready.”

Chapter Fourteen

The path up the mountain side was a winding track, snaking through trees that clung precariously to the rocky terrain. They offered some respite from the bitter wind whistling past our cold ears.

Salok had given us Saromiran mounts for the trek, hardy beasts more used to the cold than the Valoran horses we’d brought. It was too narrow for us to ride abreast; I followed Leif, Senna behind me, with Elara then Malric bringing up the rear. It gave us little time to talk, and I had only my thoughts for company.

From time to time, I checked my respawn menu to see if Lira had yet made a new point, but there was nothing new. It was helpful having Leif and Malric along; I trusted them. As soon as a respawn point arrived, I determined I would have Senna stab me and I would go straight to Lira. It might take some explaining, but the risk was worth it.

Lira’s absence hit me hard. I loved her, and the worry for her safety gnawed at me. Yet her absence highlighted the lack of healing we now had. She was our safety net, and without her, there was a sense of vulnerability I wasn’t accustomed to. With my Undying Will, one death would pose no problem, but the same couldn’t be said for Senna. Or Leif and Malric, for that matter.

Then there was the lack of new respawn points, both from her current position, and until we got her back. A double-death in one day and I’d be waking up in the tavern in Faronis, scaring the hell out of whomever was renting the room. It would put me weeks behind, and the girls would need to fend for themselves. Worse even than that, there’d be no chance of reaching Krennar before Morvak left with his army to destroy Valorah.

Lira wasn’t just my High Priestess, she was essential to everything. And she was gone.

For the rest of that first day, we ascended the mountain side, our sturdy Saromiran horses breathing heavily, their breath leaving clouds of steam in the cold air. Night fell quickly, and for a while we continued by what little moonlight there was—clouds hiding it most of the time. But in the dark, progress was so slow we all welcomed the moment we called a stop.

Elara helped me set up our tent while Senna gathered firewood. Malric and Leif had their own tents, both small one-man affairs made of furs. Our canvas would keep the elements out better, though it was so large that the only place to erect it was in the middle of the path. Which hardly mattered as no one else would be traveling this way.

Even while we worked together to set the tent up, Elara said nothing and barely met my gaze. She was looking something of her old self—she wore her dark blue martial robe beneath a thick woolen cloak, and had washed before we’d left. Her armor had been so badly damaged it had been scrapped, but the news either hadn’t surprised her, or she didn’t care. From what Lira had said, the artifact was still granting her near-invulnerability, so in the end its loss made little difference.

“If we can make good time, Valoran, we can cross the pass in ten days,” Leif said as we sat around our fire after we’d eaten. He had his pipe out, of course.

“Unless we catch them before then,” Malric added.

“I do not think that is likely,” Leif said. “They have a day on us, and we are all moving at the same pace. Too, they may well anticipate pursuit.”

Malric grunted.

“What will you do when you catch Tarkon?” I asked.

They glanced at each other, and Malric answered. “Drag him back.”

“And if he doesn’t want to come?”

“He will come whether he wants to or not,” Malric rumbled. “He must answer for what he has done.”

“Explain that to me, please,” I asked. “Is this to do with the blood debt?”

“In part,” Malric said gruffly. “He has betrayed the honor of our clan by taking your wife. He does not understand honor. Now it falls to us to right this wrong.”

“And I appreciate your help. But that’s not all of it, is it?”

“No,” Malric said. “It is not.”

“Why have the shamans of both these clans acted in a way so obviously contrary to what the claws wished?”

Again Malric and Leif glanced at each other. This time, Malric said nothing, merely returned his gaze to the fire, and it was Leif that answered. “It is complicated, Valoran. You must understand that the shamans serve the clans, but act for themselves. It has always been this way. They are there to guide the claw and clan in spiritual affairs, and they follow no other authority. But in the last year, the shamans have taken a more active role in clan leadership, trying to influence our warriors to follow Morvak.”

I’d been wondering when that name would crop up. “And his new religion,” I interjected carefully, knowing it was a sore point for Leif, and wanting him to keep talking.

“Yes,” Leif said, his lips quirking with distaste. “I am not convinced it is even a religion. It strikes me as little more than the shamans vying for political power.”

“Leif,” Malric grunted warningly.

“I speak nothing but the truth,” Leif replied, waving his pipe at me, “and Keldar is a blood friend.”

Malric remained quiet for a moment, then seemingly unwilling joined in. “It is not limited to our clan,” he added. “Salok sees it too, and so do others.”

“The clans have always acted as they see fit,” Leif said to me, continuing his explanation. “We are all Saromiran, but each clan is its own. The clans fight like brothers—both against each other, and with each other. We fight for honor, over land and resources, in duels, and because we like it—though we rarely kill one another. But when a greater threat emerges, or a claw unites various clans together and becomes a warlord, then we fight together.”

“And now Morvak is uniting the clans.”

“Yes,” Leif said. “And yet he is not a claw. Despite this, the shamans are supporting him. It is well known he intends to attack Valorah.”

“Ravik does not approve.”

“No,” Leif said, “he does not. Neither does Salok. The forest clans are further from Krennar, and several of them have refused the call. But many have sent warriors north. As for the clans of the plains … they may all support Morvak for all I know.”

“That is quite the army.”

“Yes,” Leif said. “If Morvak rides east to Lakeside, he will have enough men to take Lorimel and head south to Norathil. If instead he rides south, he will pull more men with him, and even Ravik may have no choice but to send warriors. Then he will hit Faronis, and be sitting in Norathil before spring is done.”

I stared morosely at the fire, knowing it wasn’t Valorah that Morvak wanted, but my pyramid. This war was because of me.

“Why do you not support him?” I asked.

Leif puffed on his pipe. “There is no need for Saromir to have more land. We already have enough.”

“Valorah has not made war on us,” Malric added. “There is no honor to be gained.”

“What would you do if someone tried to stop Morvak?” I asked quietly.

Again they glanced at one another.

“We do not involve ourselves in fights that do not concern our clan or harm Saromir,” Malric said.

It wasn’t a pledge of support, but neither had he condemned the idea.

“How long until the weather worsens?” I asked, changing the subject. So far, it had been dry and cold, not much different to the temperatures in the holding now far beneath us. But there was snow halfway down the mountain, and as we climbed higher the temperatures would fall quickly.

“Tomorrow, most likely,” Malric replied.

Salok had given us furs to wear, and our horses were laden with them. Malric and Leif had brought their own, anticipating the need to pursue Tarkon across the mountains. Time would tell if they were adequate to protect us from the cold, but it was Senna I was worried about. I could warm myself with my magic, and Elara seemed oblivious.

I rose, gesturing to the girls. “We will get some sleep, then,” I said. “We’ll need our strength.”

“There are many ways for a man to recover his strength,” Leif commented to Malric as the girls and I walked away, “and not all of them involve sleep.”

I heard Malric murmur his agreement as we entered the tent.

Senna gave a weary sigh as she pulled her boots off by the entrance. “Are we allowed to talk in here?” she asked, her volume control as faulty as ever, and I heard Leif chuckle outside.

“Sure,” I said, giving her a smile. “You’re doing great.”

“I feel like little more than an ornament,” she said as she stripped off her cloak and furs. “A baggy ornament.”

“No matter how many clothes you’re wearing,” I said, “you’ll always be an attractive ornament to me.”

She made a face and threw a boot at me. I caught it with a grin, setting it down beside the other.

Elara had removed her boots too, and was kneeling beside the furs, hands in her lap and eyes downcast. There was no reaction to the interplay between Senna and I.

It had been the first time we’d be alone since the night in our cages, when she’d said little. And the first time we’d shared a tent since Talene had joined with her.

Senna shot me a concerned glance, then averted her gaze to concentrate on removing the rest of her clothing.

I kicked my own boots off then dropped down on our fur blankets, next to my paladin.

“We need to talk.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I wanted to say how sorry I am. I know this is all my fault.”

“We’ve been over this,” I said, taking one of her hands in mine. She didn’t resist. “There’s no point applying fault. If the fault lies with anyone, it’s with the shamans, and they’ll reap what they’ve sown.”

“I swore an oath to defend not only you, but your wives,” Elara said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have failed so very badly.”

“If we didn’t have an audience just the other side of this canvas,” I said, just as quietly, “I’d put you across my knee and spank your ass.”

Elara’s head came up, her eyes wide as she met mine.

“Should do it anyway,” Senna muttered, still busy removing layers.

“We don’t have the time for wallowing self-pity,” I said as I held her gaze and squeezed her hand. “Any of us,” I added, “for I know I’m as guilty of that as anyone.” I gave a dry chuckle. “If not more so.”

Elara took a steadying breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry, I’ll do better.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” I said, “but you’re stronger than this. Hell, you’re stronger than Talene, a demigod. If you can wrest back control from her, then use some of that strength of spirit to bring my paladin back to me.”

“You’re right, Kaelan.” She took another breath, then nodded. When she spoke, her voice was stronger. “I won’t fail you again.”

“Sure you will,” I said, “and no doubt there will be times when I fail you. But that doesn’t change how hard we try.”

For an instant, her eyes reflected her pain within, but then she heard the rest of my words and nodded once more. “Again, you’re right. I’ll try with everything I have.”

“And I couldn’t ask for more,” I said. I gave her hand another squeeze, and this time she squeezed back. “Welcome back to us. You were much missed.”

Senna came over to kneel beside her, now naked. She slipped her arms around Elara’s neck and hugged her, and my paladin returned the embrace, taking another shuddering breath as she did.

Senna stroked her hair, then gave her forehead a kiss. Then she shivered. “Too damn cold to be sitting around like this. Move over, Kaelan, I’m getting in.”

I grinned as she crawled past me to get to the furs, rubbing herself against me more than was strictly necessary. I waited until she was settled comfortably beneath them, then turned my attention back to Elara.

“So, what’s the deal with your artifact now?”

Elara nodded as if she’d anticipated the question. “It’s still part of me,” she said, untying the sash of her robe and pulling back the garment. She lifted her undershirt to show the silvery sheen that covered her flank, from her right hip almost up to her breast, and around the side of her lean stomach. Seeing it like that, it was a miracle the original wound hadn’t outright killed her. “I think it’s keeping me alive.”

“Lira could heal the wound if we could find a way to remove it,” I said thoughtfully.

The hurt was back in her eyes, and she let her shirt drop down. “You don’t like me like this. I knew you wouldn’t.”

“That’s not what I said,” I told her firmly. “I was only thinking out loud, in case you wanted it gone. I like you very much, whether you have it or not, and I always will.” I held her gaze until she nodded her acceptance. “Ultimately, it’s up to you. Do you want it gone?”

“I … I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not sure we could get rid of it, even if we wanted to. I think it’s bound to me, and I can still sense Talene.”

Senna was listening with her head propped up on one hand. “She’s still with you?”

“Yes … though much more subdued. She doesn’t talk to me any longer. And …” She swallowed loudly, her throat tight. “And her power is lessened. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry for that?” I asked.

“I wanted to … We wanted to banish Morvak. We were in agreement on that, at least, but I didn’t want to leave. Back in Norathil, I mean.” She looked down into her lap again, not meeting my eyes. “We argued, and Talene said I was weak, that I had responsibilities and that if I didn’t banish Morvak, it would fall on you. She said … she said I’d sworn to protect you, and that meant banishing Morvak, to keep you safe. I … Part of me agreed with her, and I think that was what let her take control.”

“Well, that explains it,” I said. “She did strike me as being somewhat literal in her interpretation of events.”

“She is that,” Elara agreed. “But … when I fought her for control, part of her … I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s like she went away, at least to some degree. She’s still here, but her spirit is lessened, if that makes sense? It’s like she’s … dormant. And without her power, I’m not sure I can banish Morvak any longer.”

That was disappointing, but it had never been my main intent. I might’ve hoped Elara could banish Morvak if I failed, but the fight was mine. I would need to find the information to defeat him inside his temple, just like the Watchers in my pyramid had alluded to. “But you still have some of her power, right?” I asked. “Your resilience and strength?”

“I think so, I’m not sure. It was after the fight with Salok’s men. We’d killed—I’d killed⁠—”

“She killed,” I corrected firmly.

Elara took a breath, then nodded. “She always saw Saromirans as her enemy. She killed so many of them, even when she didn’t need to, and I couldn’t bear it any longer. I fought for control, and when at last I gained it, she seemed somehow diminished, like I said. Then I surrendered myself to Salok. Since then, I haven’t been in a fight. I don’t know if I’m still invulnerable like I was.”

“Pretty resistant to the cold, though,” I said. “A week in a cage, overnight, in just your gambeson and undershirt? Not many would survive that, then climb out as easily you did, with nothing to show for it.”

“True,” she said. “As for the rest … I suppose we won’t know until I take a blow. And with Lira not here to heal me” —she winced at her own words— “it’s probably not wise to do a test.”

“Well, let’s hope Talene left you that, at least. Meanwhile, try not to take any blows.”

“How does it feel?” Senna asked.

“How does what feel?” Elara said.

“The artifact.” Senna gestured at her side. “Is it like metal?”

“Oh.” Elara pulled her shirt up again, and inched forward on her knees until she was in range of Senna’s hand. “It feels just like skin to me. How does it feel to you?”

Senna ran her fingers over it, a small frown on her brow. Then she closed her eyes, drawing her touch inward until it brushed over Elara’s bare stomach. She opened her eyes, seeing where her hand was. “I couldn’t tell the difference,” she said. “It feels the same as the rest of you.”

“There we go then,” I said with some relief. “You’re not a cyborg after all.”

Both girls stared at me in bewilderment, and I waved it off with a smile.

“God things,” Senna muttered to Elara, by way of explanation.

“I’ve not been gone so long that I’d forgotten that,” Elara said, and then gave a smile of her own. It was tremulous, but it was good to see.

“Bed,” I announced, pulling off my cloak. “And Elara is in the middle. She needs cuddles from both of us.”

There were tears in Elara’s eyes as she shrugged her robe from her shoulders and pulled off her undershirt, but I thought they might have been of relief, if not of happiness.

The cold provided the perfect excuse for the three of us to spend the night closely entangled, sharing our love.

Chapter Fifteen

Day after day the weather worsened, until by the fourth day the horses were pushing through snow. Our progress slowed to not tire them too quickly.

The mountain pass wended through peaks that towered over us, heavy with laden snow that could crash down at any moment, and we would have little chance of surviving an avalanche. We rode huddled in our furs, a fold of cloth around our faces to keep out the biting wind, which kicked up flurries of snow and often reduced the visibility to only a few feet.

I rode with a fire rune simmering on my leather chest piece like a heat pack, and Senna sat before me, sharing the saddle space, so the rune could warm her too. It meant the horse tired faster, and we had to stop and alternate to the unburdened mount. Each transition meant wading through the snow as we were chilled, until we could mount again and press close to one another for the warmth.

With the right intent, my resistance rune had proved effective against the cold, but I quickly found my mana didn’t last the day if I used both at once. Keeping Senna warm was the priority.

Even Malric and Leif were huddled in their saddles, trying to keep out of the wind. Only Elara remained unaffected by the cold, though from time to time she did tug her cloak more firmly around her.

Leif navigated partly by knowledge, and partly by short staves buried in the ground that marked the trail. They were often too difficult to see in the snow, and were it not for our guides, it would be easy to take the wrong path, following a track that simply terminated in an impasse.

At night, the horses huddled together for warmth, protected by their thick woolen blankets, and we all cowered from the wind against the nearest boulders or rocks. We made a fire and tried to keep it alight as the wind whipped by, the flames stuttering on what sparse fuel we could feed it. The only true warmth was to be found buried beneath the sleeping furs between Elara and Senna in our tent—which was no great hardship, and a thought that kept me going through the day.

On the fifth day, Leif came to a halt in the path, sitting motionless for so long on his horse that it was obvious something was amiss. I glanced at Malric, who nudged his horse forward until the two mounts were beside each other, and Malric leaned in to confer with his friend. The wind made yelling possible but difficult; it whipped away our words, which were already made indistinct by the cloth across our mouths. It was easier to talk with heads pressed together.

Elara sat patiently while Senna shivered before me, pressing her back firmly against the fire rune for warmth.

She turned her head, showing she wanted to speak, and I bent forward until her mouth was near my ear. “What’s going on?”

I shrugged by way of response.

“Is Leif lost?”

I had no answer to that, but if he was, we were in trouble. There was no food up here save for what we’d brought, and limited fuel for fires. We couldn’t afford to wander for days, unable to find our way out of the maze of paths that were often little more than channels between rocks, with deep snowdrifts.

Malric turned, beckoning me forward with one hand. I nudged my mount until we pressed in close to Leif’s other side.

The big man turned his head, his lips pressed to my ear. “You see that stave?” he asked, nodding his head forward to the half-buried post that marked the safe way through the path.

I nodded to show I’d seen it, then leaned in as he spoke again.

“I am sure it is not where it should be.”

“You think it’s been moved?” I asked. The staves had to be fixed well into the ground, otherwise the wind and buildup of snow would easily unroot them. Relocating one would be no small task.

“I am certain of it,” he said, the wind pulling at his words despite his lips so close to my ear. “I once sheltered in a cave near here. I recognize the location.”

“Do you know the correct path?”

“That I am less sure of,” he said, nodding forward again. There were three possibilities before us, the stave indicating the rightmost path. “It is one of those two.”

“Left or center?” I said, confirming.

“Correct. We can ignore the path the stave marks. It is designed to deceive us.”

That left two options.

“How far do we need to go to reach the next stave?” I asked.

He shrugged. “A mile or so, perhaps. Assuming those have not also been moved—or more likely, destroyed.”

“You think the shamans are responsible.”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes flashing in the gap above his face covering. “To alter this path is a despicable act indeed.”

I agreed with him there. It was an almost certain deathtrap for anyone trying to take it.

“They want us to turn back,” I said.

He nodded. “It is the only safe option.”

I shook my head. “I won’t go back. Not without Lira.”

“We cannot go on, not without knowing which path is correct.”

“Why not scout ahead until we find the next stave?”

He stared at me. “There are chasms that look like solid ground until the snow gives out beneath the hooves of your horse. Paths that wind between the rocks, feeding back on themselves until a man no longer knows which way is north. You think you are heading the right way until you run into a wall, hours later. Men spend days traveling in circles, and that is without weather like this.” Leif gestured at the sky, a seamless shroud of gray, so thick and featureless, snowflakes constantly drifting down. “There is no sun by which to navigate.” He rested one fur-mittened hand heavily on my shoulder. “If we go back, we live. If we take the wrong path, we die. You understand that?”

I understood the dangers, but I had a map inside my head that would update with every step I took. It wouldn’t stop me falling down a chasm, but it would solve most of the other problems.

“Do you know where the cave is you mentioned?”

His steady gaze regarded me for a long moment, and I fought not to shiver as I waited for his damnable Saromiran contemplation. If there was ever a time to answer quickly, freezing my ass off in a snowstorm surely was toward the top of the list.

“I think I do,” he said at last. He nodded back the way we’d come. “It is half a mile behind us.”

“Let’s do that, then,” I said. “Find some cover.”

“What good will that do?” he asked.

“Let’s find the cave first.”

He stared at me a moment, then shrugged and nodded. I moved my horse and tugged Senna’s riderless mount out of the way, so that he could turn and lead us back along the path we’d just taken.

We were now heading into the wind, each step harder on the horses. I hoped the cave he knew of would be large enough to shelter them, too.

We rode what felt further than the half mile he’d mentioned, but that could have just as easily been because of how much the wind slowed us. But then he veered off the path, heading past another stave that marked the route the other way, and a short while later reined in near a rocky outcrop.

He waved me forward, and again I pushed my mount in against his.

“This is the place,” he said. “But there may be a bear waiting for us.”

“Let’s dismount and be ready. Between us all, one bear should not pose much threat.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Have you ever fought a mountain bear?”

“No, but I’ve fought some spiders.”

He conceded the point with a nod. “Any other man I would accuse of being foolhardy, but you are not like other men.”

That seemed strangely pointed, but I let it lie.

On foot, the snow was deeper than I had thought, my boots quickly soaking through. That wouldn’t be a problem once we got a fire going inside the cave.

It was right where he’d said it would be, the cavern extending deep into the rocks, happily bear-free. I called out an all-clear, and Leif brought the others in. There would be plenty of space for all of us within, even room to erect the tent and shelter the horses.

“Just as I remember it,” Leif said as he removed his face covering. Within the shelter of the cave, it was possible to speak without shouting above the wind. He crossed to where a fire had clearly been lit before, and began to build a new one on the ashes of the old.

“What’s the plan?” Elara asked as Senna and Malric followed along with the horses. “We are losing time on Lira.”

“I know,” I said grimly. “I will need to scout ahead, find which route is the correct one, and then come back and fetch you.”

“I will go with you,” Leif said, looking up from his fire building.

“It’s a one-man job,” I said. And from what Leif had told me, one that could easily get us killed or lost—the latter resulting in the same end.

“It would be easier with two,” he replied.

“I can go myself. With any luck, I won’t have to go much further before I find another stave.”

“And will you then be able to find your way back to this cave? What if the storm worsens and you can’t see your hand before your face? Or if you get turned around?” He shrugged. “It would be better with two.”

I stared at him, knowing I couldn’t tell him about my map, then shrugged in acceptance. “Fine, you can come.”

He nodded like I was very wise. “I had faith you would make the right decision.”

“Stay here and guard the others,” I said to Elara, with a subtle glance toward where Senna was busy erecting the tent. She nodded in understanding. Malric bristled as he heard me, and as I passed by him, I placed a hand on his shoulder and murmured quietly in his ear. “Will you please watch the girls for me while I am gone? We don’t know what other dangers there might be.”

“Of course, Keldar,” he said, drawing himself up. “I will keep them safe.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

Leif and I wrapped up again, and took our horses back out into the cold.

“Are you not worried the others will encounter a bear?” he called as we rode. I was sure the howling wind was stronger than before, swirling the falling snow and snatching his words away, but it was difficult to be sure. Without the need to keep Senna warm, I was using my resistance rune. It made the biting wind seem more like a refreshing breeze on a spring day—though it took longer to persuade my cold bones of that.

“I think they will manage,” I shouted back. Senna had her boots, Elara was nearly invincible—we hoped—and Malric probably went hunting bears armed with nothing but a spoon as a coming-of-age ritual.

“I agree,” he said. “It is much more likely that they will survive while you and I die.”

“You didn’t have to come.”

“But you invited me to,” he said. “It would have been dishonorable to refuse.”

That wasn’t quite my recollection.

With the wind at our backs, it didn’t take too long to return to the intersection with the three paths.

“So now we scout ahead?” Leif called to me as we reined in before the three paths.

“Exactly,” I shouted back. “We head down one path until we are sure whether or not it is the correct one, then go back for the others.”

“A good plan,” he said. “This way, only you and I die if we get lost among these paths or fall into a chasm.”

“You’re full of good cheer.”

“Of course,” he said. “Saromirans are a happy people.”

I glanced at him, trying to figure out if that was dry humor or whether he genuinely believed it to be the case, but it was impossible to tell only from his eyes in the slit above his face cloth.

“Which do we try first?” I called to him.

He nodded to the left path without hesitation. “That one.”

“You’ve remembered the way?”

“No, but it looks friendlier.”

I glanced between the two paths ahead, both half obscured by the falling snow, both lined either side by featureless grey rocks. “If you say so.”

“I shall go first,” he announced. “You follow behind, but not too close.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “This is in case there are hidden chasms, isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” he said innocently. “It is safer to be at the front. Bears like to attack from the rear.” He nudged his horse forward and set off along the path.

I stared at his back, then shook my head.

“Don’t tarry too long,” he shouted over his shoulder. “If the snow worsens, you will lose sight of me.”

I squeezed my horse’s flanks, and set off after him.

We followed the path as it wound between the rocks, but it was encouraging that it held mostly straight—as far as I could tell. With no sun as a guide, visibility reduced, and the landscape the same wherever I looked, it was impossible to be sure that we weren’t riding in circles—or it would’ve been, were it not for my map and compass, available on a whim.

After following him for an hour without bear attacks or chasms suddenly appearing before us, Leif reined in, then waved me adjacent with one mittened hand.

As I rode up next to him, he leaned toward me, not bothering to shout. “I knew this was the right path.”

“Have you recognized it? Or seen a stave?” I’d been looking for one, thinking we should’ve passed several by now, but had seen nothing in the snow.

“No to both,” he said. “But I am certain this is the right path.”

“Why so sure?”

“Ice giant.” He nodded at the path ahead. “The shamans have summoned one for us.”

I peered through the swirling snow, seeing nothing. “I see nothing.”

“That is because you are Valoran,” Leif said with a sigh. “Look down, Valoran.”

Now that he mentioned it, there were some depressions in the snow—each maybe two feet long, yet only a half-inch deep, with six feet between them. Easy to miss. “Those?”

“Yes, those. They have not yet been fully filled in, as you can see. The giant has been here within the last two hours.”

“Can shamans summon giants?”

He shrugged. “Of course.”

“How do you know it hasn’t just wandered here, and that this is the wrong path?”

“Why would the shamans summon the giant to the wrong path?” he asked reasonably. “You sometime make no sense, Valoran.”

I blinked at him. “Excellent logic.”

“Of course,” he said. “I am Saromiran.”

“Have you ever fought an ice giant before?”

“I killed one once.”

That was promising. “I’ll take care of this one,” I said.

He blinked slowly. “By yourself?”

“Do you remember the spiders?” I said.

“The ice giant will be larger than the spiders.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes, that makes sense.”

“Very well, I will let you go.” He made it sound like he was granting me a favor.

“Thank you.”

“It is not like I have a choice,” Leif added wistfully. “I knew you would insist.”

“Er … yes. Sorry about that.”

“I have learned the foolishness of trying to dissuade you when your mind is made up.”

“Er … well, quite.” I nudged my horse forward, but his hand shot out and grabbed the reins.

“What are you doing, Valoran?”

“Hunting the ice giant?”

“He will hear your horse coming from a long way off, then throw a rock and kill you and the mount.” He shook his head sadly. “Salok gave you that horse. Such news would not please him.”

“Oh. On foot, then?”

“That is a fine idea. I approve.”

I smothered a sigh and swung my leg over the horse’s neck, dropping into the fresh powdered snow. “Any advice?”

“Try and catch him when he sleeps.”

“Good advice, thanks. Anything else?”

“Kill him before he kills you.”

I nodded. As advice went, it was at about the level I had come to expect from Leif.

I tugged my swords loose in my sheaths, for the ice had frozen them against the leather. Then I trudged off down the path, leaving Leif with the horses.

The snow was deep, and my feet sunk in with each step until it was almost up to my knees. It made the going slow, and I wondered how it would help my agility for the upcoming fight.

I pulled up my intuition rune and activated it, hoping it would warn me if the ice giant tried to ambush me with a rock missile. If it weren’t for the caution Leif had shown, I’d think this was all a big joke. Could there really be a giant capable of what the warriors in Valroth had said?

Bends in the path quickly hid Leif from sight, and I trudged on alone, peering through the falling snow for signs of my quarry. He’d said it had been two hours since the ice giant had passed; was it even still here?

Then ahead of me, through the snow, a shape loomed. I would’ve thought it was a rock except that it had moved, shifting slightly and catching my eye. Now it was still again. Had I imagined it?

I inched closer, my Silent Feet ability making little noise even as I compressed the snow beneath my boots. One yard, then another. The looming shape took on a form, and I swallowed.

The ice giant was everything the men had said it was: easily twelve feet high, its arms grotesquely long. Filthy rags hung from its hips—small mercies—and its blue skin gleamed with an almost oily sheen. Matted clumps of white hair and beard tumbled across its chest and back. By its side, a massive club—little more than a splintered tree trunk—rested against a rock, ominously close to its clawed hand.

Despite Leif’s advice, the ice giant wasn’t asleep. It was very much awake, sniffing the air.

It had scented me.

Chapter Sixteen

Run. That primal command screamed in my brain. Run now. But as its gaze locked on mine, I knew it was too late.

I needed all the help I could get. Activate Divine Strength: Speed. Activate Divine Strength: Meditation. Activate God Power. Activate God Power.

Divine Strength activated: Speed. Duration: ten minutes.

Divine Strength activated: Meditation. Duration: one hour.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

God Power effect doubled for 4.99 minutes.

And I pulled up my intuition rune.

Twice my height and several times my size and strength, the giant loomed. And yet, my mind chose that moment to latch onto a trivial absurdity: why were system numbers sometimes shown as digits and sometimes as words? Stress was strange like that.

Its small, white eyes narrowed, brow furrowing as it seemed to weigh me for a moment. Then it lifted its head, jaws gaping wider than I’d have thought possible, and it roared. The sound wasn’t just noise—it was raw, visceral power given voice. The stone around us amplified the rumble into a shattering crescendo, a clear message that there could be only one outcome.

An instant later, the ice giant charged, its speed defying logic for something so massive. The swing of its club was faster than the finest swordsman’s strike, and far deadlier. Even with the warning of my intuition, only my triple-boosted speed allowed me to leap back in time, its club sweeping past close enough to disturb the air around me.

It was on me before I could gain ground, the club swiping down again. I ducked beneath it, scrambling back, only for my shoulders and head to slam painfully into a rock behind me. Nowhere to go.

Again the ice giant struck at me, the club tearing through the air with a whistling hiss, the silvery pre-image of my intuition a bare fraction of a second ahead of the attack. I threw myself down, and even with my speed it almost wasn’t fast enough. The club struck the boulder with a thunderous boom, right where my head had been. Stone shards sprayed over me like shrapnel, cutting into my face and hands, but echoing through it all came a loud crack as the club snapped in two.

For the briefest moment, the giant stared dumbfounded at the stump in its hand, giving me an instant to scramble to my feet and pull my swords from the snow. Then it roared at me again, this time full of rage for breaking its favorite toy.

Even without its weapon, the giant was impossibly fast. It feinted with the remains of its club, but my intuition rune showed a ghostly image of its other hand swiping toward my chest a half-second before it moved. I sprang back just in time, its claws missing by inches.

I couldn’t take a single hit. One punch from those fists wouldn’t just cave in my ribs—it would throw me stunned against the rocks. And even with Undying Will, the ice giant would be on me before I could recover, pummeling me into the ground. Dead again. Back in Faronis.

And I still hadn’t even landed a blow. How had Leif managed to kill one of these things?

Grimacing at the necessity, I dropped my resistance rune and activated fire. A torrent of flame erupted into the ice giant’s face. It reeled back, roaring in pain as patches of its sprawling beard ignited. The acrid stench of burnt hair and seared flesh filled the air.

It growled, enraged, and charged again.

I dived to avoid its lumbering body, even as my intuition rune warned me of the fist that was swinging in. It was too late to fully avoid it, but I slashed my sword at the ice giant’s hand even as I fell, twisting my body to avoid the strike as much as possible. It only clipped my armor, yet the impact sent me skittering through the snow. Pain flared through my ribs, sharp and hot, as I gasped for breath, while the cold seeped into my bones, tightening my muscles and slowing me.

The ground shook as the ice giant charged after me. I readied my fire rune, and as I came to my knees I unleashed another inferno. The fire struck the giant square in the face, but it barely faltered.

Singed hair and blistered skin weren’t going to stop it. It was too damn tough.

Letting the fire rune fade, I switched to my willwind rune. The effect was immediate: my mana began to drain rapidly, but my speed was boosted to insane levels, and my mind was clear and working overtime.

The next swipe came in, massive claws arcing toward me, but it didn’t seem so fast now. I ducked beneath them and countered with two quick slashes from my swords. The first cut raked across its stomach, drawing blood. The second missed as it reared back with a roar of rage.

It charged again, this time from point-blank range. I dodged just enough for its bulk to rush past me, my blades scraping along its thigh. The damage was minimal, but with my boosted focus, I noticed something crucial: each time it missed, it hesitated in bewilderment for half a second. Like how dare its prey dodge?

I leaped in, exploiting the momentary pause, and drove my sword into its leg.

The ice giant screamed, blue blood staining the snow, and swiped down with its hand to bat me away. I dodged just in time, landing a few feet back, already preparing my next move.

It lunged forward, maddened and raging, but its injured leg buckled beneath it. The ground shook as it crashed down to one knee, still towering over me, but slower, clumsier. Even on its knees it was taller than me, its arms ready to grab me and pull my limbs off.

I kept my distance, calling upon my ice rune to launch a gleaming spear into its chest. Again the ice giant screamed, the icy shard penetrating deeply. It clutched at the wound, bemused as the magic faded and the shard disappeared. Blue blood ran down its chest and coated its hand.

It surged forward again, but its movements were sluggish now. Even without my willwind rune, I had speed enough to duck the attack and stab hard, my blade plunging into the chest wound I’d already made. It faltered, stunned in pain and shock, and that was all I needed. I plunged my second sword into its eye, gritting my teeth against its final roar as its thrashing hands batted uselessly at the air. With a shudder that shook the ground, the ice giant collapsed at my feet.

I exhaled slowly, letting my willwind rune fade away. My mana was down to a fifth of its capacity, and I wanted my resistance rune to get me back to the cave. It would be a cold ride without it.

Once I’d cleaned off my blades in the snow, leaving a blue stain, I sheathed them and began the return trip to where Leif waited. The path didn’t fork between here and there, but I pulled my map up in my display anyway, checking I was going the right way. This terrain looked all the same.

He was sitting close to where we’d split up, in the relative shelter of a large rock, smoking his pipe. “Was it bigger than the spiders?”

“It was.”

He nodded. “I heard the fight from here. It sounded like a lot of effort. It is a shame you did not catch it while it was sleeping.”

“I didn’t want to wait that long,” I said.

“I would have waited,” he admitted. “They sleep many times a day. Perhaps you made too much noise as you approached it, but then you are a Valoran.”

I gave him a flat stare. I’d been quiet, and the ice giant had known full well I was there, on scent alone. Still, it would’ve been nice to know the giant took regular naps.

“At least you did not set off an avalanche,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “Shall we go back to the others?”

“Do you want to check this is the correct path?”

“Oh, I have no doubts,” he said, tapping his pipe out on the rock before pulling himself onto his horse. “Can you find the cave from here, or shall I lead?”

I was tempted to pull my map up and show off, but he’d only make some comment about how fast I learned from him. “I’ll follow you.”

“That would probably be best.”

It was growing dark by the time we reached the cave again, the glow from the fire reflecting out onto the snow. The entrance was large enough to ride straight in, if we ducked our heads. Malric and Elara held our bridles as we dismounted, and no sooner were my feet on the ground than Senna threw herself into my arms.

“We heard an awful rumble through the mountains,” she said. “I knew it was you.”

I hugged her close. “The shamans left us a welcome party, but I dealt with it.”

“The Valoran killed a giant,” Leif told Malric as he packed his pipe with fresh leaves. “He insisted on taking it on alone.”

“At least the way is now open,” I said, choosing to ignore what passed for Leif’s humor. “How long until we clear the mountains?”

“Two or three days.” Malric folded his arms over his chest. “The storm may slow us.”

“The snowfall was lessening as we came in,” I said. “With any luck, the weather will be brighter tomorrow.”

“A reduction in snowfall usually precludes a storm,” Leif said, waving his pipe at me. “Did you not see the sky?”

I hadn’t particularly observed the sky, on account of wanting to keep the snow out of my eyes. “No.”

“It will certainly storm tonight,” Leif said gravely, then he brightened. “But with any luck, it will blow over, and the weather will be brighter tomorrow.”

“There, you see?” Leif laid his heavy hand on my shoulder as we looked out of the cave entrance. “I told you it would be brighter today.”

The storm of the night before had passed, and we’d been quite snug in our cave. The sky was still grey and overcast, but there were enough gaps for the sun to occasionally peek through. It wasn’t even snowing.

“Let’s get going,” I said. “We have to make up time.”

“In that, the ploy of the shamans was effective,” Leif said grimly. “Even if they did not make us turn back, they have gained another day.”

“Will they have summoned more ice giants?”

He gave a small shrug. “It is possible, but not likely. The spell is not without risk and takes considerable effort.” Then he perked up. “If there is another, now you know to kill it while it sleeps.”

Senna stared at the dead ice giant as we rode past it, then looked at me wide-eyed. “You killed that?”

Unfortunately, the drop in wind allowed Leif to hear her. “It was a smaller giant than many around here. You were fortunate, Valoran.”

Ten to twelve feet, the men at clan Valroth had said. Valerie had said the same, before we left. The giant I’d killed was at least that, if not pushing thirteen or fourteen.

I gave Leif a level stare. “I couldn’t have done it without all your great advice.”

He grinned at me. “Obviously.”

The better weather lasted all that day and into some of the next, allowing us to make good progress. That evening, Leif told us we’d passed the worst of it, and the following day the ground began to slope gently downwards. Late that afternoon we began to catch glimpses of the lower land the other side of the mountains, stretching to the horizon. Though there were trees in the foothills, beyond were grassy plains and rolling hills with only a smattering of snow.

"Tomorrow, or the day after, we should be in the lowlands," Leif said as he puffed on his pipe that evening.

"Will you stay with us? Once we’re clear of the pass?”

Leif and Malric exchanged one of their significant glances.

“We will see, Valoran,” Leif replied amidst a cloud of blue smoke. “If we can catch the shamans before the weather worsens, perhaps. But it is not a good time to visit Krennar.”

In other words, they didn’t want to be drawn into the war. I could respect that.

Leif was watching me, his eyes sparkling with the amusement I’d sometimes seen in his expression, usually before he hit me with one of his zingers. But he didn’t say anything, and in the end I had to ask.

“What?”

He didn’t answer me, but turned to Malric. “I am very fond of you, Malric. You know that is true.”

Malric grunted.

“Despite that,” Leif continued, “if it were me on this night of all nights, I would not be huddled around a fire with your company. Not if I had wives with me, like Keldar does.”

He said it playfully, but it carried a poignant note, a reminder that he and Malric had left their families behind to make this trip.

Assuming they had families. I wasn’t actually sure.

Then I frowned. “Why? What’s significant about tonight?”

Leif glanced up at the dark sky, shaking his head in mock despair. “These Valorans do not know much, do they?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Senna murmured from beside me. The girls so rarely spoke when we were gathered in the evenings that it was surprising to hear her. Then her words registered.

“New Year’s?”

“Your wife knows more than you, and not for the first time, I wager.” Leif gave a lamentable sigh. “Oh, I long for the privacy of my own tent, and some beautiful women with whom to pass the evening.” He glanced at me sideways. “Your sacrifice is noble, Valoran, spending your time here with Malric and I, instead of in the arms of your women. It is appreciated, of course, but I am not sure, were it me, that I would be so noble.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I’m suddenly quite tired,” I said. “The day has caught up with me.”

“Me too,” Elara said quickly.

“I’m definitely ready for bed,” Senna added, “but I still have some energy.”

“There will be time for sleep later,” Leif pointed out. “Surely, we should keep each other company this fine night, and see in the New Year together?”

Malric glanced at Leif in despair, then shook his head, staring into the fire.

“The girls are exhausted though.” I made my excuses apologetically. “I really should see them safely tucked away.”

“Of course,” Leif said graciously. “Do that first, then when they are settled, rejoin us and we will see in the New Year together.”

“Such a kind offer,” I said dryly. “But I’m tired too, so I might pass on this occasion.”

He nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Suit yourself.”

The girls and I withdrew swiftly to our tent, divested ourselves of our many layers, then climbed beneath the furs. Conscious the walls of the tent were thin, we kept our celebrations relatively discreet—which is to say that the girls buried their faces in the furs when they needed to muffle their cries.

In the end, it took another day and half of the next before the pass began to wind down the far side of the mountains, and it was midafternoon when the land finally leveled out.

It was a relief to be able to pull away our face cloths, and ride without having to hunch against the cold.

The horses seemed happy too, stepping out with more energy and huffing at the sparse trees we passed. After a week of hay and bran, they pulled more than usual each time we passed clumps of juicy grass.

The pass joined a road that curved along the base of the mountains, and Leif dismounted when he saw it.

“They were met,” he said grimly, gesturing at the frozen tracks in the mud with the end of his pipe. “A warband is travelling with them.”

“Then we must hurry.”

“My friend, you will not catch them now. They will ride hard and swap horses as they need, and I do not think many here will lend you a fresh mount.”

I sighed, and pulled up my respawn menu for the hundredth time. There were still no new options. Why hadn’t Lira created one yet? I knew the ritual took some time to cast, but beyond that I didn’t have the specifics. An oversight I would correct when I saw her again.

“We will head to Krennar,” I said to Leif. “We might not catch them before they reach it, but I’m not giving up on Lira.” And besides, Morvak had always been my goal.

Leif nodded. “Then it is time we left you, Valoran. You do not need us any longer.”

“Very well.” After our earlier conversation, I’d expected as much. “If I encounter Tarkon, do you want me to give him a message?”

“No need,” Leif said lightly. “If he returns to Valroth, we will deal with him then. And if he does not, it will be no great loss.”

Malric turned his horse around, already eyeing the path back up the mountain. Without so much as a backward glance, he rode off.

I dismounted to clasp Leif’s arm in farewell. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

He gave me one of his rare grins. “It was my pleasure, my friend. Maybe, when this is over, come and visit us again. You will always be welcome.”

I nodded. “I’d like that.”

He climbed onto his horse, and jabbed his pipe at me. “Kaelan?”

“Yes?” I answered in reflex, before realizing he hadn’t called me ‘Keldar’.

“When next you come, will you bring your crown? I would like to see it.”

I stared at him, but he just laughed and kicked his horse on after Malric.

How long had the crafty bastard known?

Chapter Seventeen

After the ice of the mountain pass, it was good to be back on a proper road, even if it was little more than a packed-mud track.

It was wide enough for the three of us to ride abreast.

“Damn, it’s nice to be able to talk again,” Senna said with a sigh of relief. “I felt like I was going to burst.” She glanced past me at Elara. “Shall we sing?”

My paladin opened her mouth, breaking into a poignant song about a man who had lost his love, her voice pure and note-perfect. But she trailed off after a few lines when she saw the surprise on our faces.

“What?” she asked.

“I wasn’t actually serious,” Senna said, her lips twitching. “But don’t let me stop you. You have a beautiful voice.”

“You both do,” I said, remembering Senna singing back in Norathil.

“What songs do you know, Kaelan?” Senna asked.

I glanced at her, then shook my head. “You won’t get me singing.” No better way to undermine my divinity than to try to sing. I knew my limitations.

With the open land, the clearer skies, and the snow to reflect the ambient light, there was enough visibility for us to ride well past dusk, though we had to slow as it steadily grew darker. We camped some way off the road, in a hollow that made our tent less obvious. With no need to hide my magic from Leif and Malric, I was able to use a fire rune to start the fire. I found I missed Leif. I wouldn’t have put it past the wily old bastard to have figured out I was a mage, too, but he never said anything.

Our supplies were low, and we would need to hunt soon—which would delay us further. But there was enough for dinner.

“Hot shower?” Senna asked me, after we’d eaten. “I’ve been dreaming of hot showers.”

“What’s a hot shower?” Elara asked, her attention piqued.

“Wait until you try it,” Senna grinned. “It’s almost as good as sex.”

My paladin’s eyes widened, and a blush tinged her cheeks. Then they widened further as Senna and I rose and began to strip down, outside the tent.

“That doesn’t look like fun,” she said.

She wasn’t wrong. The snow crunched under my feet, cold enough to burn. I pulled up my resistance rune, cheating.

“Why do you care?” Senna asked, shivering as she pulled off her leather trousers from beneath her kirtle. “You’re oblivious to the cold, you lucky thing.”

“Because you’re not,” Elara said dryly, “and watching you two strip out here is making me feel colder than the snow ever did.”

I grinned at her as I threw my shirt into the tent. “It’s called a ‘hot’ shower for a reason. Come on, catch up.”

Elara muttered something as she reluctantly rose and untied the sash of her martial robe.

Senna stepped back into her boots, leaving them untied, and walked over to help. “I’m not taking this kirtle off until you’re naked,” she said. “I don’t have a demigod keeping me warm.”

“You have a god that will keep you warm,” Elara said, giving the first smile I’d seen from her in a while.

Between them, Elara was soon stripped down to the bindings that ran around her ample chest.

“Oh!” Senna said with delight when she saw them. “I’ve always wanted to do this.” She unclipped the end of the fabric and gave it a tug. “Spin, Elara, spin!”

I chuckled, watching her childlike enthusiasm, remembering my own unveiling of Elara in a forest glade hundreds of miles from where we now stood. As she had then, Elara gracefully raised her arms and turned on the spot, the bindings quickly unwrapping and falling away.

“If you wore them yourself, I could have my turn,” she said to Senna.

“My breasts are too small to need them,” Senna lamented.

“Your breasts are perfect,” I told her, for they were. Enough for a handful, perky and firm.

“What about mine?” Elara asked, her arms still draped loosely around her head, showing off her chest to best effect. The orange light of the fire reflected off her pale skin.

“Beautiful,” Senna said, drawing out the word. She couldn’t resist touching, sliding a hand around the curve of Elara’s breast and running her palm up and over the nipple.

“Exactly that,” I added with a grin, enjoying the view that was offered.

But Elara lowered her arms and crossed them over her chest, brushing Senna’s hand away. “After so many days traveling, I feel dirty.” Elara grimaced. “I need a wash before we do whatever this hot shower thing is.”

Senna laughed in delight, then nodded thoughtfully at Elara. “Good thinking,” she said seriously. “We could scrub with snow, perhaps?”

“Better than nothing,” Elara agreed, and bent to pick up a handful that was clean and untouched. It crunched as she lifted a pile free.

“Senna,” I said warningly.

“What?” she asked innocently, watching Elara with the handful of snow.

“For that, you can fetch the soap.” I unbelted my leather trousers, kicking them off and laid them in the tent, my swords wrapped carefully within. I could still feel the cold air play across my bare skin and the ground was icy beneath my feet, but with my resistance rune in place, it lacked teeth.

“Drop that snow and come here,” I said to Elara, holding my hand out to her.

She let the snow fall with a puzzled look, but obeyed me, stepping around the fire to take my hand. I pulled her in close, her body pressed against mine.

“Brace yourself,” I murmured, then pulled up the rune I’d been longing to use throughout our time in the mountain pass.

Elara gasped as the warm water cascaded over both of us, then shivered against me. With pleasure, I assumed, as we were both now quite warm.

“Oh, this is heavenly,” she sighed, pushing her ample breasts into my chest.

I ran my hands down her back to her ass, pulling her into me and kissing her. She opened to me, her tongue flicking over mine.

“I missed you, Master,” she murmured. We might have slept in the tent naked each night, but we hadn’t played around too much with Leif and Malric in earshot. Aside from our restrained New Year’s celebrations and the occasional blowjob, the girls had been starved for affection. Elara clearly wanted to make up for lost time, rubbing herself against me as she purred.

Senna pushed up against my back, now naked, the bar of soap in one hand. “He’s my master too,” she said.

Lira had never called me master, but both these girls had. It was just the way they liked to be, especially when our clothes came off. I grinned, sandwiched between them, squeezing Elara’s ass with one hand and reaching back for Senna with the other.

She rubbed the soap over my back, then passed it to Elara, who washed my chest, the water spraying off all of us. But their hands soon slipped down, Senna playing with my ass while Elara took my hardness in one hand, stroking it through her soapy palm. She gave a small sigh of pleasure that echoed mine.

We took turns washing each other, both Senna and I enjoying the feel of Elara’s pillowy breasts as we checked more than once that they were perfectly clean. I had never really ascertained if the girls were truly into each other, or whether they were open with each other just for my pleasure—it had never been a question I wanted to ask, when they all seemed to enjoy it so much. Maybe it was Valoran’s unrestrained culture and the commonality of multiple wives, but no one could deny that the female form was pleasing to the eye, whatever one’s orientation.

Afterwards, we ran for the tent, gasping at the bite of cold on wet flesh. Elara reached it first, pulling open the thick canvas flap and holding it for both of us. There was enough light for my night vision, but I lit our oil lamp so we could all better see one another, before we piled beneath the furs of our bed.

“Hold me,” Senna whined, “I’m so very cold.”

“You don’t feel that cold,” I said, pulling her against me and running my hands over her back.

“Freezing,” she murmured, placing kisses along the side of my neck. “I need something warm inside me.”

Elara obliged by pressing herself to Senna’s back and pushing her warm, wet tongue into her ear. Senna shrieked, jerking against me. “Not that!”

“You don’t want my tongue?” Elara asked softly, trailing the tip of it over the edge of her ear.

Senna shivered again. “I do want your tongue, but somewhere else. And I want Kaelan first.”

I rolled her beneath me, and she spread her legs for me, raising her knees to caress my flanks with her calves, her hips tilting up toward me in offering. My cock rubbed against the apex of her thighs, and I could feel how wet she was already.

“My turn next,” Elara said as she trailed her hand over my ass, “if there’s time before we sleep.”

I could tell I was going to need my stamina this night. Activate Divine Strength: Sex (Women).

Divine Strength activated: Sex (Women). Duration: one hour.

“Plenty of time,” I promised her. “The advantage of long winter nights.” I pushed slowly into Senna.

She gasped as she felt me penetrate her, and pressed her head back into the furs, her back arching in pleasure. “Oh,” she murmured, “I don’t know how you do that.”

“Do what?” I said with a smile, holding myself fully inside her while I shifted my hips almost imperceptibly, rubbing within.

“Hit all the right points … every time.”

A base skill of 26, doubled by my Divine Strength. But I kept that secret to myself, and just let her enjoy it. What better way was there to use my powers? Especially when we could all do with some pleasure with Lira gone and the Saromirans gathering. Joy, temporarily banishing darkness.

I began to move inside her, slowly increasing the tempo, and within moments, Senna was past speaking. She clung to me, her small hands gripping my shoulders, and her cries rapidly reached the point where they turned silent. Her mouth was open, her eyes tightly shut, the only sound our hips slapping together, and her little whimpers of ecstasy. The dim light of the oil lamp flickered around the tent, casting shadows on her face that came and went as I moved over her.

I reached between us, brushing my thumb over her clit. Once, twice … and felt her clench around me as her first orgasm arrived. I knew from experience she’d be more sensitive but wouldn’t want me to stop. Instead, I increased the pace of my thrusts, having to work harder as her sex tightened while she shuddered beneath me.

Elara was silent as she watched, her eyes sparkling with her own arousal, and one hand was moving between her legs. Her lips were parted, her beautiful breasts rising and falling as she breathed.

Senna flushed as she came, her neck and throat tinging pink down to the curve of her breasts, her fingers digging into my shoulders. She gasped each time I pushed inside her, making cute little sounds. I could feel my own release just a moment away, and grunted as I thrust harder into her.

She came again as I filled her with my seed, a little ‘oh’ of pleasure as she felt it. She clenched around me involuntarily, gripping me tightly within her, but I was where I wanted to be and had no intent of withdrawing. Her arms slid around my back, pulling me down against her, and for a moment we rested, our heavy breathing filling the now warm tent—along with the heady smell of sex.

“Perfect,” she murmured when she could speak again. “I’ll never get used to how intense being fucked by a god is.”

I chuckled lightly, and she twitched beneath me. “Don’t do that, please, Master,” she begged, but it only made me chuckle again, with a sadistic satisfaction. “Too sensitive,” she gasped.

“My turn now,” Elara said firmly. “Are you ready to go again, or shall I use my mouth first?”

I twitched inside Senna at those words, but knew I was still hard. It was tempting to take up her offer anyway, but it had been too long since I’d properly been with my paladin. I knew how she liked it, and she hadn’t got it on New Year’s Eve—the thinness of the tent walls had meant we’d needed to be discreet and too restrained.

“I’m ready,” I said, though it was an effort to pull away from Senna’s tight embrace.

“You promised me your tongue,” Senna whined at Elara.

My paladin smiled. “You can have mine if I have yours.”

“Deal,” Senna said quickly. “Like I did with Lira.”

We all froze at the mention of her name, and Senna cringed beneath me. “I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet voice. “I just miss her so much.”

“We’ll get her back soon,” I said firmly.

“Look at it like this,” Elara said gently. “Wherever she is, given our connection with her, she’s absolutely busy with her hand between her legs—with us in spirit.” She grinned down at Senna. “How could she not be?”

“That’s a hot thought,” Senna murmured, pulling Elara down to her.

I moved out of the way as the girls kissed gently, tongues teasing each other, and my earlier doubts as to their willingness disappeared. They may have been doing in part for my pleasure, but they were into each other, too.

Then Elara slid over Senna, her head slipping between my cute assassin’s spread thighs. “You’ll have to move to the other end, Master,” she murmured to me, then lowered her face. Senna’s gasp filled the tent again.

I gave a chuckle, but was happy to relocate around the two girls, Elara’s ass waving encouragingly, her smooth and creamy skin begging to be touched. Senna looked up at me from between her legs, then very deliberately ran the tip of her tongue along Elara’s cleft. “I’m going to lick you both while you fuck her,” she whispered, her words trailing off with another gasp as Elara did something with her tongue.

Taking Elara’s hip in one hand, my fingers spread out over the silvery sheen of her side. Yet it felt just like warm skin—smooth, with the same texture as the rest of her. I stroked it lightly in wonder.

“Can you feel this?”

“Feel what, Master?” she asked, and I guessed that answered my question. It was a shame, but not unsurprising.

“Never mind,” I said quietly.

“Oh, you meant your fingers on my side?” She gave a small laugh. “I thought you were teasing me. Yes, of course I can feel it. Why—” She cut herself off, then looked back at me over her shoulder and spoke more gently, a note of hurt in her voice that she tried to suppress. “It’s still me, Master. All of it is still me.”

I nodded and gave her a smile, wishing I’d said nothing. Then I leaned forward and licked slowly across the silvery sheen of her skin, following it up with kisses to show how much I loved her, and was grateful that the artifact kept her alive. She sighed softly, a happier note. I grinned and tickled her flank where the silver sheen covered her sensitive ribs. She jerked and gave me a mock glare. “Still me,” she said again, this time through gritted teeth. The sad moment forgotten—I hoped.

Maybe it was best to distract her another way, just to be sure.

“Enough talk.” I gripped her again, my fingers digging into her hip, and she pressed her upper body against Senna, bracing herself. When I penetrated her slowly, I felt her shudder with pleasure beneath my touch, and she moaned into Senna’s sex.

“Fuck yes,” she hissed. “Oh, that bit is still me too. Oh, it’s been too long.”

“How do you want it?” I asked, just checking.

“Don’t hold back, Master. Don’t be gentle.”

Almost word for word what she’d said to me the first time, in that forest glen.

“Fuck her hard, Master.” Senna added her encouragement. “She deserves it.”

I wasn’t sure if that was because she needed punishing for riding off alone, or because she’d been gone so long. I didn’t blame Elara for anything that had happened, and I was so glad to have her back. Regardless, I was going to do exactly as she’d asked—exactly what I hadn’t been able to do in the tent, two nights before.

Gripping her other hip for support, I pulled her back onto me as I thrust forward, bottoming out inside her on that first thrust. The tent rang with her cry, her spine arching and her hips pushing back against me. “Oh yes,” she breathed, then had no more words as I began to take her with long, hard strokes.

I slid my hand into her hair, gripping close to her scalp, and pulled back as I thrust into her. She whimpered her submission, her head coming up, her body arching more. “Yes, Master,” she gasped, and I felt her body clench around me.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Senna whispered beneath us, before I felt her tongue lapping lightly at where we joined.

I increased my pace, one hand gripping Elara’s hip while the other pulled her back into me by means of her hair, and her gasps filled the tent as I took her harder than I had before. In moments, she reached her peak, her sex flooding me with her wetness as she came, but as with Senna I didn’t stop.

Each thrust took more effort, her body clamping down around me, becoming so much tighter as the strength of her orgasm made her channel contract. But it only drove my own pleasure higher, and I pulled her hard against me as I came inside her.

Elara cried out again as she came once more—or maybe it was one long orgasm, I couldn’t be sure—her body shuddering with the pleasure of it. Then she sank limply down onto Senna beneath her, resting her head on Senna’s thigh. I let her hair slip through my fingers as I released my grip.

“That was what I needed,” she murmured, so quietly I almost didn’t catch it.

Senna wrapped her arms around her, holding her firmly, and again I felt her tongue on us both. Elara sighed in contentment.

I slipped out of her, sitting down heavily on the furs and taking a moment to catch my breath. It was fun to watch the two girls gently clean each other up, not least because Senna watched me as she licked, her eyes filled with adoration and lust. Then Elara rolled onto the furs on her back, one arm lazily covering her face. Senna pushed herself up, giving me a sexy smile as she crawled to me, then nestled back down again with her head on my thigh. She nuzzled closer, taking me into her mouth and licking me clean, and I stroked her hair while she took care of me—or entertained herself. Or both; with Senna, it was probably both.

“I can’t move,” Elara muttered. “You exhausted me.”

Senna’s eyes twinkled up at me in amusement, while her tongue swirled around me again.

“How are you doing?” I asked her.

She let me slip out from between her lips, and placed a kiss on the tip of me. “I know you can go all night, Master, but I’m also too sore to go again.”

I chuckled. “Some sleep, then?”

She nodded happily. “Ready for sleep.”

“Sleep,” Elara added sleepily.

Senna and I rearranged the furs while Elara did very little to help, then we rolled the drowsy paladin into the center and curled up around each other. With both of us pressed close on either side of Elara, I reached across for Senna’s hand. She entwined her fingers with mine, and gave me a languid smile.

Sleep came quickly for all of us.

Chapter Eighteen

The steppes were wild and beautiful, rolling hills and grassland studded with snow drifts and black, rocky tors against a backdrop of tempestuous winter skies. Even though the view was much the same day after day, I didn’t get tired of it.

It was obvious the Saromiran clans of the steppes didn’t build their holdings out of timber, and I could see why Leif spoke disparagingly of the lack of trees. I liked the forest too, for different reasons, but the steppes were so untamed and seemed to go on forever. I wanted to ride and just keep riding.

Convenient, really, when we had little else to do.

For several days, we saw no signs of human life. No settlements or travelers, not even tracks in the mud. There was no shortage of wildlife, however, and though I’d left my bow in Norathil, an ice lance proved just as effective at downing the shaggy beasts that passed for deer in these parts. Elara surprised me by being particularly adept at finding plants to supplement our diet. We feasted well on wild potatoes and edible roots, and made a hearty venison stew with sorrel for flavor.

On the fourth day, we saw pencil-thin trails of smoke reaching for the skies, marking a village.

“Should we avoid it?” Senna asked.

“I think so,” I said. “No need to go seeking trouble.” We had everything we needed, and nothing with which to trade with anyway, save for some day-old strips of roasted venison.

But the road curved around, pulling us closer to the village, and it was either go across country or risk being seen. I was about to divert us away when the echo of hooves announced an approaching warband, and it was evident we’d already been noticed.

“Great,” Senna said sarcastically, “back to staring at the ground and keeping quiet.”

Elara offered her a supportive smile, then both girls took on their practiced Saromiran demeanors. My lips twitched as I watched their postures alter, their submissive bearings an effective disguise. Part of what amused me was the thought that together—if not separately—my girls could take out the entire warband and leave no survivors. But that wasn’t our goal.

We reined in as the riders approached; eight warriors on horseback wearing the typical Saromiran leathers, blonde hair and beards flying in the wind. The leader lifted a hand to me in greeting.

“Where are you headed?”

“Krennar,” I said, choosing to keep my answers simple.

He nodded, as if expecting that answer. “Are you in need of supplies?”

A surprisingly friendly reply, but I kept my expression impassive in Saromiran style. “We have what we need.”

He nodded again. “We will head over in the next week or two,” he said. “Perhaps we will see you there.”

And without another word, the men peeled off, riding toward the village.

“I quite like Saromirans,” Senna commented as we watched them ride away. “They seem friendlier than most Valorans.”

“I agree,” I said, as I nudged my horse onward. “It’s a shame some of them have kidnapped my wife and intend to invade Valorah and slaughter their way across the country. For the second year running.”

“Well, there is that,” Senna said with a sigh. “No one is perfect, I suppose.”

“Let’s kill Morvak, then maybe they’ll all be nice again.”

“Good plan.”

After the encounter by the village, we saw men on the steppes frequently, and were often greeted on the road and asked where we were headed. It continued to be friendly enough. The warbands grew larger, their equipment better cared for, and once we passed a wagon carrying arms and armor the same way we were heading. The driver offered me a swig of his home-brew, which, after one look at the way he was swaying on his bench seat, I politely declined.

There were more villages too, growing larger the closer to Krennar we traveled. The houses were simple affairs, built of stone—the settlements more in the style of Fernwick than of the holdings of Ravik and Salok.

As the days passed, the road grew busier, with riders passing us from time to time, moving toward Krennar faster than us. I wondered how they balanced the needs of their mounts, and whether the steppe horses were bred for long-range stamina. Given the distances involved, it seemed likely, and mobility was a major tool in the success of Drakos’ invasion. By now, we had seen several hundred warriors, all of whom were intent on answering Morvak’s summons and traveling to Krennar.

It was a constant and sobering reminder of what was to come.

Almost three weeks after we’d reached the steppes, we finally saw the walls of Krennar in the distance. The stronghold was built on a hill, silhouetted starkly against the wintery sky. With nothing as high, prominent, or large for miles around, it was difficult to miss. It wasn’t as big as Lorimel, but it wasn’t far off.

We were too far away to make out the details, but one building in the center pushed up distinctively into the skyline, and I knew I was looking at where Morvak had been summoned.

A city, built around Morvak’s pyramid, much like Norathil had been settled because of its proximity to my pyramid. Twin cities, so to speak.

“Its walls look black.” Senna gave her opinion.

Maybe it was dusk nearing, but I had to agree with her. The entire city did indeed look dark and foreboding.

“We’ll camp here for tonight,” I said. “It’ll take most of the morning to reach the city.”

That evening, Krennar was a shadow on the horizon against the night sky, and I couldn’t stop gazing at it. Lira was there, and tomorrow, we would be too. We were subdued as we ate our dinner, and for the thousandth time I checked my respawn menu, looking to see if Lira had yet added a point. It was greatly concerning that she’d not done so.

“Maybe she hasn’t thought of it,” Senna said, watching me.

“Hmm?”

“You were wondering why Lira hadn’t made a respawn thingy.”

I blinked at her. “How could you tell?”

“Your gaze goes slightly cross-eyed,” she said, “like you’re focusing on something only you can see, and then you sulk.”

I thought the ‘sulk’ comment wasn’t fair, but the rest of it was true enough. Senna was observant.

“I can’t believe she hasn’t thought of it,” I said, responding to her comment.

“Maybe she doesn’t want you to come,” Elara suggested.

I glanced at her, frowning. “Why ever not?”

“Because she knows it’s a trap, because she’s too close to Morvak, because the shamans she’s with want you to show up … take your pick.” My paladin shrugged. “Then there’s the obvious one.”

“Which is?” I asked, wondering what could be so obvious I hadn’t considered it.

“She doesn’t want you leaving us.” She glanced meaningfully toward Senna.

I sighed. That was, unfortunately, exactly the way Lira would think.

“Well, we’re less than a day away. Tomorrow, we’ll be in the city. Then we can figure out exactly where she is, and how to get her back.”

And I couldn’t wait. She’d been gone far too damn long.

Getting into the city turned out to be harder than I’d thought it would be.

We reined in a mile from the gates, and stared grimly at the encampment that spread out before us.

“How many do you think?” Elara asked me after a minute.

“I could only guess,” I said honestly. “A few thousand?”

There were hundreds of tents of all shapes and sizes filling the plains before the city, ringing it as far as the eye could see. Men were everywhere, mostly sitting outside their tents by their fires, while others milled around. It reminded me of a sprawling ant’s nest, save for the glow of dozens upon dozens of campfires. Many of the fires had been built into makeshift stone kilns to better direct their warmth, and that suggested their owners had been settled a while.

In the few minutes we’d been watching, two warbands had left armed with bows, and another had returned, carrying the woolen deer that were so common on the steppes. A wagon of hay rolled past, followed by another carrying lumber, the wheels creaking ominously as they found bumps in the road.

“Why are they not in the city?” Senna asked.

“Because it’s already full?” Elara suggested.

That was concerning. If she was right, the Saromiran army was massive.

“Let’s go and find out,” I said, kicking my horse harder than I’d intended. The animal leaped forward, and shook its head in admonition when I had to rein it in.

This close to Krennar, the frustration I felt at Lira’s absence grew tenfold. I realized I’d been suppressing my anger and desperation, but with her almost in reach, those powerful emotions were bubbling just beneath the surface. I took a calming breath, practicing my meditation techniques, but it didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. I was angsty, to say the least.

Looming above the walls, in the center of the city, sat Morvak’s pyramid, and that didn’t help my mood. This close, it was evident it was built not from the marble like mine in Norathil, but from the same black stone used for the buildings in the city. Yet in all other ways it looked the same: a square temple on top, steps leading up, and layered, uniform sides that I knew would each be about ten feet high. It was the same height, too.

I stared at it a while, then forced myself to look down.

The Saromirans had laid stone on the main road into the city, but the passage of so many men had broken the paving and pushed it into the mud. In places, they’d repaired it with gravel. It was still a better road than the one we’d been following to get here.

We passed a man hawking his wares—strips of dried venison—while another argued with him about the prices. Many vendors were selling arms and armor, while others had brought little more than firewood, either seeking to help the army or make a handsome profit.

Few glanced up as we rode through, but most that did stared at Senna and Elara. I began to notice how few women there were in the camp, then I started looking for them. The answer was soon obvious: none. The warriors had left their wives at home.

Senna had seen too. “Our presence is drawing attention,” she muttered to me behind one hand.

“I don’t care,” I said curtly. “Once we’re in the city, there’ll be women again.” And I’d be that much closer to Lira.

It didn’t take us long to reach the main gate, but the queue that led up to it didn’t bode well. Both warriors and merchants were waiting to gain entry, and as we watched, all were turned away. At least twenty guards stood around the gateway, ensuring no one pushed past without first making their case to the harassed-looking officer who sat behind a table, sheaths of paper before him. He had three layers of ink swirls around his bare arm, the first man we’d seen shirtless in a while. It was probable he was suffering the cold to show his rank.

We joined the queue in despondence, for at the rate they were turning men away, what could I offer them to gain access? ‘Hi, you have my wife, I’d like to come in and get her?’

I sat brooding on my horse as the queue inched forward, the day slipping away. It was tempting to send the girls off somewhere safe and force my way in, consequences be damned. But my magic wouldn’t last forever. With the numbers of Saromiran warriors around, even my God Powers would eventually run out, and I’d quickly find myself back in Faronis.

Still, it was a pleasant daydream to pass the time.

At last, we reached the front of the queue, and I slipped from my horse to address the weary looking officer.

“Well?” he asked.

“We seek accommodation in the city,” I answered.

He didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “City is full,” he said uncaringly, as if he’d already told everyone a hundred times.

“I have my wives with me,” I tried, playing the only card I had. What were the chances that might gain some sympathy?

“Lucky you,” he said dryly. Not high, evidently. “Did you miss the point about warriors only?”

I had. My invitation to join Morvak’s army must have somehow gone awry. “They would sleep better in the city.”

He looked down at his parchments and made a mark with his quill. “No access without proof of residency, or family members willing to take responsibility,” he said to his table, the words running together like they’d come out of his mouth without the conscious involvement of his brain. Bureaucrats were the same whatever the world. “Next!”

I stepped aside as the man behind me pushed forward, giving me a sympathetic glance as he tried his luck. But he’d heard the comment about residency and family and hadn’t opened with those credentials, so I didn’t give him much hope of success.

I mounted my horse and turned away, the girls following me.

“What now?” Senna asked.

“Try and find somewhere to put the tent up, I suppose,” I said, distracted.

“And Lira?” she pressed.

“I’ll go over the wall tonight,” I said. My climbing skill was a paltry eight, but maybe with Divine Strength and the right combinations of runes, I could scale the hundred-foot wall undetected in the darkness, sneak through the enemy city, find where Lira was being held, and rescue her.

Then figure out how to get into Morvak’s pyramid.

I didn’t have a better plan.

Senna nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“I can’t climb that well,” Elara said, glancing back at the walls towering over us.

“We’ll figure something out,” I said. But I had no idea what.

It would be better if I went in alone.

We were a hundred yards away from the gate when a warrior stepped out in front of my horse. He wore a thick traveling cloak with the hood pulled up, and twin blades were strapped to his back like mine, their hilts jutting out diagonally behind each shoulder.

He grabbed my bridle, stopping my horse, and I jerked at the reins in surprise.

A pair of dark brown eyes looked up at me from beneath his hood. “Only you would bring women to a place like this,” he said quietly.

I stiffened in my saddle, staring down at the man who had been Drakos’ lieutenant.

Fang.

Why had he approached me like this? Was he about to identify me to the soldiers?

We were in the middle of the enemy encampment, and now my identity was no longer a secret.

Elara and I couldn’t be killed, but I couldn’t help but glance at Senna. She’d also seen who had stopped my horse, but her expression showed more curiosity than alarm.

I looked back down at Fang, and he had raised one finger across his lips, the movement hidden by my horse and his body from the warriors nearby.

“Come,” he said, watching me carefully. “We will find a place to talk.”

Chapter Nineteen

Fang led us to his tent. It was not far from the road, and midway between the walls and the back of the encampment, suggesting he’d been here a while.

We dismounted, tethering our horses to a pole set up for the purpose, and followed him inside.

Fang pushed his hood back, revealing his brown hair, uncommon among Saromirans, shaved along the sides of his head and knotted at the back. His beard was as well-kempt as ever, his features ruggedly handsome, with a nose that had been broken more than once.

“You took longer than I expected,” he said testily, by way of greeting.

I stared at him, still in shock at seeing him again. “And I thought you would be back with your wives by now.” I wanted to remind him that he’d promised not to act against Valorah again, yet here he was, in Morvak’s army.

Yet his face turned thunderous at my words. “I would have been,” he said, his teeth gritted, showing more emotion in that moment than he had in the entirety of our previous dealings. “But when I returned to my holding, they were not at my home, waiting for me.”

With the pain in his voice that he couldn’t hide, I felt only sympathy, and the similarity of our plights. “What happened?”

“The shamans have them. In there.” He nodded toward the wall of his tent and the city that lay beyond.

I blinked in surprise. “The shamans have them?” Similar indeed.

“To ensure my loyalty,” he said, his voice venomous.

It was obvious he had no immediate intentions to turn us in, and I was curious what he wanted.

“You might need to start from the beginning.”

He waved me to a fur, sitting cross-legged himself on another. Senna and Elara sat beside me.

He took a moment to gather himself, then began to talk. “I am the claw of clan Vessira. Do you know what that means?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and continued. “When Drakos was chosen as a warlord by the shamans,” he said, his tone scathing, “Vessira was one of the first that fell under his authority. He made me his fang, in part because he knew I had no wish to be.”

That explained the resistance I had detected in their relationship, but I also knew Fang was an honorable Saromiran warrior, and he would’ve fulfilled his role. He had, of course—I’d seen it.

“Apparently, the shamans were worried I would not fall in line,” Fang continued, “for the fools collected my wives and brought them here, to Krennar.” He shook his head in frustration. “I did not even know they had done so until I returned. Perhaps Drakos knew, but if so, he never told me.”

“You always acted with honor,” I said carefully, “so he never had need to hold them over your head.”

“That may well be the reason,” Fang said bitterly. “I returned to my holding with those of my warriors that had survived, only to find my wives were not waiting for me as I had hoped.” He shrugged. “I knew you would come, and I knew you would need help facing Morvak. And I need help getting back my wives.”

“How did you know I would come?”

He stared at me impassively. “It was obvious. You walked into Lorimel alone—save for your women” —he nodded to the girls— “and Valorah has no army. I knew you would need to stop Morvak, and I told you myself you had until the spring. It was only a matter of time until you found your way here. I have been waiting for you for fourteen days.”

Well that was fair, I supposed.

I frowned. “If you knew I was coming, and now that I’m here, do you intend to use me as a bargaining chip to prove your loyalty and free your wives?”

“Do you think that would work?” he asked, straight-faced.

I considered the fact that Morvak must, by now, have heard that Drakos was dead. News like that would have flown quickly, and Lorimel—by way of Lakeside—was far closer to Saromir than the journey we’d made, via Norathil. They would have known weeks ago.

And the blame would have fallen, in part, on Drakos’ fang.

Neither Morvak nor his shamans would look kindly on Fang returning, alive and unharmed, while Drakos and his other lieutenants were dead in Valorah. Especially if they had their doubts of him in the first place.

“No,” I said at last, “I don’t think that will work.”

He nodded. “Neither do I.”

I cocked my head. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘Fang.’”

“Arik.” He almost smiled. “And you are correct; I am fang no longer.”

“Can you get us into the city?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Of course.”

“Have you been in already?”

“If I were in the city, I would not have been able to meet with you,” he said, as though it were obvious.

“You want my help rescuing your wives?”

“Yes,” he said. “And you need mine to get into the city and stop Morvak.”

“An alliance, then?”

“Indeed.”

I regarded him, wondering if I could trust him. Much of our previous dealings made more sense in light of what he’d told me, and I’d seen enough of Saromiran honor to recognize the sort of man Fang—Arik—was.

“I take it you have no love for Morvak and his shamans?”

“They have corrupted Saromir,” Arik said with vehemence. “This is not our way. This is not our religion.”

I nodded. It was as Salok and Ravik had said. “Why have the clans of the steppes followed them, then? How have they gained such a foothold, if all the claws are against them?”

He cocked his head to one side. “Did you come from the south, or from the east?”

“From the south.”

“That explains why you were so long. Did you meet some of the forest clans?”

“Yes, two of them.”

“And they are not supporters of Morvak, I assume?”

“Correct.”

Arik nodded. “The shamans closer to Krennar hold more power than those elsewhere in Saromir. In the south, they give spiritual guidance to the clans, but here on the steppes, they often position themselves even over the claw of the clan.” He grimaced. “Did you know that the Covenant is here in Krennar?”

“The Covenant?”

He waved a hand. “The most powerful shamans. There are five of them.”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, that is why. They rule in Krennar, but they seek more power. It is they that summoned Morvak, though that is not common knowledge.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Were you also summoned, Kaelan?”

I fought to control my reaction. Arik had deduced more than I expected, and I still wasn’t sure how much I could trust him. “Why would you think that?”

He shrugged. “I have seen you fight. And die, and fight again.”

“Does Morvak fight like me?” I asked.

“I do not know,” he said, his brow furrowing. “I have never seen him fight. You fight with powers beyond the reach of men, yet you do not fight like a shaman, with magic.”

“I do have magic,” I said cautiously. I didn’t want him switching sides again if he thought I was secretly a shaman. I raised a hand and summoned my fire rune, using my intent to carefully conjure a flame that seemed to hover above my palm.

Arik barely reacted. “That would have been useful for lighting my pipe, but alas, I am out of leaves.”

Had he just made a joke?

“Do you want to stop Morvak?”

“I would not be sad if Morvak were stopped,” he said carefully, “but it is not something I can undertake myself.”

I understood him. “The shamans also have my wife,” I told him.

He nodded. “Yes, there were three women with you in Lorimel. I am sorry that one of them is now in Krennar. Do you have a plan?”

“Get inside the city and rescue her,” I said grimly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you know where she is being held?”

“No,” I grudgingly admitted.

“Then you need my help,” he said, satisfied.

“It seems our goals align, at least in part,” I said.

“That is true.”

“I will help you get your wives back,” I said. It wasn’t like I had much choice, and besides, I shared his anger.

“I knew you would,” he said, with typical Saromiran conviction. “You are, in your own way, a man of honor.”

That sounded like a back-handed compliment, but I chose to ignore it. “And you will help me find my wife, and stop Morvak.”

“Yes,” he said carefully, “though I cannot fight Morvak. I swore an oath to him, via my allegiance to Drakos.”

“Does this oath put you in conflict if you help me?”

“No. Only if I fight Morvak.”

I nodded. I had to believe him. “Can you fight the shamans?”

His expression hardened. “That is less of a problem for me.”

“Then we have an agreement.”

He smiled, the first I’d seen from him, and pushed himself to his feet. “We are in accord.”

I rose too.

Arik offered me his arm, and we gripped one another as allies. “We will see this through together,” he said, and it sounded like a vow.

“I give you my word.”

“Good.” He headed for the exit to the tent. “I am keen to see my wives again,” he said, pulling back the tent flap and holding it for us. “The sooner we begin, the sooner I can have them back. Besides, you were slow arriving.”

“Sorry for that,” I muttered. There had been a thousand miles to travel, an ice giant, and a day in a cage. I tried not to feel guilty for keeping him waiting too long.

“Come, then.” His impatience was obvious, but I couldn’t blame him. I knew exactly how he felt.

“Do you have a plan?” I asked, as we stepped outside.

“I still have five bands,” he said by way of answer, and pulled up his hood.

It took me a moment to realize he was referring to his tattoos.

“What rank are you, if you’re not a fang?”

“Officially, I have no rank,” he said like it didn’t matter. “But I have the respect equivalent of one of your generals, or lords. It will be enough.”

I was reasonably certain those were two very different ranks in Valoran society—one based on competency, the other on birthright—but kept my thoughts to myself.

“Leave the horses here,” he said as he walked past them. “There is no food for them in the city.”

We quickly pulled off one of the saddlebags, transferring our spare food and clothing. Senna added the bar of soap, then looped the bag over her shoulder. Elara pulled her sword from the side of her horse, then tucked it inside her robe to lie down against her leg, concealed from at least casual observation. I gave her a nod; it was good thinking. We caught Arik up.

“Are some of your warriors here?” I asked as we walked.

“No. They are all back at my holding.”

“Do you have a shaman?”

He glanced across at me, amusement in his eyes. “I do. However, he is a good man. He shares my beliefs. It was he that told me where my wives had gone. Alas, there was nothing he could do to prevent them from being taken.”

That sounded fishy to me, but it wasn’t my place to question Arik’s judge of character.

Despite the lateness of the hour, the queue was no shorter. But Arik walked past it, like it wasn’t there. Some of the waiting men muttered, but most said nothing.

I walked beside him, the girls behind us.

The officer sat behind the desk had his attention on his paperwork, and didn’t immediately notice as Arik chose not to stop, but strode past him.

“Hold,” another of the guards said, moving before Arik and raising one hand.

The officer at the desk swung around, irritation in his gaze. “You can’t just walk in there.”

“I believe I can,” Arik said.

The officer bristled, rising to his feet. “The city is under martial law. It is closed to⁠—”

Arik pushed the edge of his cloak back to reveal his bare upper arm and the five layers of swirling ink he’d called bands.

The officer’s mouth closed with a snap and he saluted, fist across his chest.

“Forgive me, Fang,” he said, “I did not recognize you.”

Arik gave him a nod and turned away, walking on, and we followed. The officer glanced at me, then at the girls, his eyes widening in recognition of our recent encounter. But he said nothing.

“That was the easy part,” Arik muttered once we were clear of the gates. “We should find a room in a tavern.”

“Won’t they all be full?”

He grinned, baring his teeth. “Rank has its privileges.”

“What stops a man tattooing bands on his arm and walking around as he wishes?”

He glanced at me in amusement. “Not much, since you ask. I suppose such a man would be executed if he was found out, but to my knowledge no Saromiran has ever tried it. It is not our way.”

I wondered what guileless history they’d had to build such a sense of trust and honor. And how a man like Drakos had risen through such a system, so bereft of both attributes.

Maybe the shamans had the answer to that question.

We walked through the city as the afternoon drew on. Like the walls, all the buildings were built in the same dark grey stone. Slick with melted snow, it appeared almost black, giving a gloomy feel, and even the cobblestones and paving were made of it. Snow covered the roofs and piled high to the side of the roads where it had been pushed, and it was like stepping into a monochrome black-and-white world.

“What stone is this?” I asked.

“Basalt,” Arik grunted.

Geology wasn’t my forte, but the darkness of all the buildings made it feel oppressive. I didn’t like Krennar.

For all that, the narrow, winding streets were cleaner than those of Lorimel or Norathil, and the houses in a good state of repair. It also smelled better than the Valoran cities, but that may have been a result of the colder weather. There were various folks out on the street, only men of course, and it was soon evident they all seemed to be heading in the same direction. The girls received some curious glances, but no one made any comments.

“Something is going on,” Arik muttered. “We should see this.”

We joined the flow of people, and it grew the closer we got toward the city center, Morvak’s pyramid looming over us. But it wasn’t the pyramid that was our destination—or not exactly. It took us half an hour to reach the large square that stood directly before the pyramid, and it was full of people when we arrived, all wearing cloaks like ours for warmth.

At the far end of the square, just before the pyramid’s steps, a raised stage had been erected, and a half-dozen figures occupied it. Five of them were shamans—the Covenant—if their furs, skull ornaments and staves were any indication: middle-aged men, balding and sporting some sizeable paunches among them. Power hungry and bitter. But my eyes were drawn to the figure who stood to one side.

The man—if man he was—stood at least seven feet tall, his chest and arms thicker than any warrior I’d ever seen. But it was his horns that drew the eye. Two large, curving monstrosities arced out of the back of his head like those of a goat, spiraled and sharp, while a half dozen stubby ones protruded from each side of his neck. He wore a Saromiran leather jerkin, as if a nod to their way of dressing, but it was open, his chest bare beneath. Protruding over one shoulder was the handle of the biggest damn sword I’d ever seen: two-handed, black and crimson, with a spiked pommel and cross-guard. The whole damn thing was glowing with an eerie red light, hinting at its magic, and it matched the red glow of his eyes.

It seemed I’d finally found Morvak, and he sure as hell wasn’t from Boston.

How many populated worlds were there?

Show information Morvak, I thought, focusing on him intently.

Well, shit.

I needed to get into that pyramid.

“Warriors of Saromir!” One of the shamans stood in the center of the stage with his arms spread wide. “Servants of Morvak!”

Beside me, Arik tensed as the two terms of address were inexorably linked.

“Your lives are bound by sacred order,” the shaman continued, and I recognized a sermon when I heard one, my lips curling in distaste. “Morvak grants favor to those who serve with loyalty and devotion, and his gaze sees all. Obedience ensures prosperity—fields that flourish, homes kept safe, and your children’s futures secure. Defiance brings ruin, not only to you but to all who share your blood. Do not test Morvak’s patience, nor the mercy of his loyal shamans who enforce his will. Remember—your duty is your salvation. Stray, and there will be no refuge from judgment.”

“That’s pretty grim,” I muttered to Arik.

“It is not our way,” he grumbled. “Not our way at all.”

“Soon the snows will melt, and spring will be here.” The shaman was working himself up into a fervor, his arms waving as he spoke. “We will march on Valorah, our enemies of old. You fight not for yourselves, but for the will of Morvak, who will lead us all.”

The crowd seemed to be listening intently, as though they bought into the messages. Maybe they’d heard speeches like this before.

The shaman continued in the same vein, preaching control and obedience to the Saromirans who listened, and fear and hatred of Valorah. There was little of substance, and through it all, Morvak didn’t move. Yet his eyes roamed slowly over the crowd, as if looking for the defiance that the shamans warned against.

Then his gaze seemed to rest on me.

“I’ve heard enough,” I murmured, as Morvak’s eyes narrowed, fixed right on me.

That wasn’t good. But there were a lot of people here; he couldn’t really see me, could he? I was probably imagining it.

“Me too, yet he seems intent on continuing awhile. This might be a good opportunity.”

“For?” I asked, only half listening as I kept my eyes on Morvak, but Arik was already slipping away from the edge of the crowd.

The girls and I followed him, earning several reproachful looks. I wasn’t sure if they were jealous we were leaving before the shaman was done, or angry we weren’t sufficiently devout. But I was glad not to be the subject of Morvak’s stare any longer.

It had been unsettling. Had he somehow recognized me? I didn’t see how that could be possible.

The girls and I caught up Arik as he headed for a side street.

“What opportunity?” I prompted again, stepping in beside him.

“The shamans and Morvak are in the square, and I will be surprised if they do not fill at least an hour with their preaching.”

“Good chance,” I agreed.

“So we have an hour to reach their enclave and find our wives.”

“That is the best idea I’ve heard in a while,” I said, loosening my swords in their scabbards. “Lead on.”

Chapter Twenty

Arik led us along a side street but turned north when he was able. The new street ran parallel to the square, but houses either side of us blocked our view—at least of the square. The pyramid, of course, was visible from anywhere. Regretfully, we could still hear something of the shaman’s preaching: loyalty unto death, obedience to Morvak, et cetera, et cetera.

“I hope we will find a tavern as we go,” Arik said, leading us back onto the main northern road once we’d passed the square. “We still need a room, and we can meet there, in case we are separated.”

“Sure,” I said, my mind on Lira. I’d be seeing her soon … or I’d be tearing this place apart until I did.

We walked north through the city, toward the enclave, the streets winding and narrow.

“You know where you’re going,” I said. “Have you been here before?”

“Once,” Arik nodded. “The enclave is a fortified house in the north of the city, with an exterior wall complete with a heavy gate and guards. There are many rooms within, including a guard barracks.” He looked sideways at me. “Perhaps we might not kill everyone we see?”

“I can but try,” I muttered, and dropped my hand away from where I had subconsciously been toying with the hilt of my sword. “What about you? Are you willing to kill Saromirans if the need arises?”

“I would rather not, but…” He shrugged. “If they stand between me and my wives, they will die.”

That seemed clear.

“We’re being followed,” Senna said quietly from behind us.

“Interesting,” Arik said, and took the next side road we came to. Both he and I glanced back as we made the turn.

“Did you see her?” Senna asked.

“You mean the old woman?” Arik asked. He was more observant than I was; if she’d been there, I’d missed her entirely. But then I’d been looking for warriors, not for an old woman.

“Yes.”

“A local, surely,” Arik said. “What interest could she have in us?”

“Who knows,” Senna replied, “but she’s been following us since north of the square.”

Arik glanced at me, his eyebrow raised, and I shrugged. “If Senna says she’s been following us, she’s been following us.” I trusted my assassin’s instincts.

“Probably a coincidence, but either way, she is no threat,” Arik said. Then he nodded ahead to where a tavern spilled light onto the road. “This place will do.”

It had a sign out, like taverns everywhere, depicting one of the shaggy deer common in this part of Saromir, under the name ‘The Brown Buck’.

“You’re confident we can get a room here?”

“It will not be a problem,” Arik said with his usual certainty. “If we are separated, give my name, or wait for me if you arrive first.”

I nodded. With any luck, I’d be returning with Lira—and not being chased by every guard the shamans employed.

A few streets later, we saw the enclave ahead of us. The wall was a dozen feet high, the house visible beyond: a three-story gray basalt-stone sprawling complex that looked like a governor’s mansion, complete with actual glass in the windows and not just shutters—though it had those, too. Better architecture than what we had in Norathil. For a predominantly nomadic people, it was impressive. The Saromirans continued to surprise.

A half dozen guards loitered outside the main gate, which was closed.

“Can you get us inside?” I asked Arik as we approached.

“We shall soon find out,” he said, which wasn’t the emphatic affirmative I’d been hoping for.

The four of us walked up, and the guards shifted to a less-lazy posture. They stared past us at the girls in surprise, then flicked their gazes to Arik and me. I fought to give off a calm demeanor, letting Arik handle this, but if things went south, I wasn’t going to let these guards stop me getting inside.

I wasn’t leaving without Lira. Not now. Not this close.

One of the guards took a pace forward. “You are in the wrong place.”

Arik sneered down his nose at him, pushing his cloak aside to show his bands as he had with the officer at the desk. “I assure you I am not,” he said, with an imperious tone that had the hapless guard cringing.

“Fang.” The man gave a half bow as he saluted with his fist against his chest. “We were not told you were coming.”

“I have just now arrived, and with urgent news. It has been a long journey, and I do not wish delays. Open the gate.”

The guard turned and echoed his command. “Open the gate.” Two of the other guards leaped to do his bidding, then stood to the side, revealing a small courtyard before the main house.

“Be sure to close this after us,” Arik said curtly, then walked through with us at his heels. No one commented on our presence, trusting that a fang knew exactly what he was doing, and that surety extended to his companions.

We were in. One step closer.

We crossed the courtyard in silence, for two more guards waited outside the main entrance to the house.

They came to attention as we drew nearer, evidently deciding we were visitors of importance to have passed through the gate. Arik didn’t slow as he approached, and waved his hand for them to open the doors.

Yet neither guard moved.

“Open the doors,” Arik said in a bored tone.

“I do not recognize you,” the more senior guard replied. “You will need to make yourself known before you gain access.” He was either dumber or significantly more intelligent than the guards at the gate; with soldiers, it wasn’t always easy to tell.

Once more, Arik pushed his cloak aside, revealing his five inked lines of rank. He said nothing, merely stared at the guard. The man took a long time to react, but in the end, he saluted and gestured for the other guard to open the doors. Arik walked past them both, into the house.

The doors opened into a foyer, braziers hanging against the walls illuminating a basalt staircase leading up both to our left and our right, and open doorways ahead, showing rooms beyond. Everything was made of the same dark gray stone, but the walls and floors gleamed with reflected light, the stones smooth and polished.

The doors closed behind us, which was helpful. I was happier with a barrier between us and the guards.

“Where do we start?” I whispered, conscious there could be ears anywhere.

“No idea,” Arik muttered back. “Directions would be useful.”

“Do they have servants here?” I asked.

He nodded. “Indeed they do. Let us see if we can find one, for it will be safer than asking a guard.”

As if summoned, a man walked into the foyer. He was dressed not in the leather jerkin of a warrior, nor the furs of a shaman, but in simple shirt and trousers. He bowed when he saw us.

“May I be of assistance?”

“I remember you,” Arik said, his head cocked to one side.

“Yes, Fang. I am the steward, as no doubt you recall.” He said it in a tone that implied he was absolutely certain that Arik had forgotten who he was, but such fault clearly didn’t lie with the fang. He glanced at me. “My name is Zerak.” His gaze returned to Arik and he gave another small bow. “How may I serve?”

There was a lack of the ‘sirs’ and ‘sires’ that Thalor dropped so easily, yet Zerak still dripped with deference. It must be something to do with a steward’s training.

“Where are the shamans?” I asked, as an idea struck.

“They are in the city,” Zerak replied.

I shook my head. “The others that came. Tarkon?”

Arik glanced at me, but I ignored him.

“Ah,” Zerak said with a nod. “The guests are in the east wing. May I show you?”

“Directions will suffice.”

“Of course.” He gestured to the staircase on our right. “On the first floor, continue down the hallway to the end, follow it around to the north. If memory serves, they are in the second room.”

I nodded, in no doubt whatsoever that his memory served, and had to remind myself not to thank him.

“You go ahead,” Arik said, his gaze on the steward. “We will meet later.”

I knew he meant at the tavern he’d chosen. I hoped he found his wives.

And I had mine to find.

The staircase led to a long hallway lit with more torches, with numerous doors along one side. Some were open, showing rooms with good quality furnishings, all empty. Others showed light beneath them, and we were careful to walk quietly past. Opposite, exterior windows overlooked the courtyard we’d walked through. The glass wasn’t clear but translucent at best, with a wavy and uneven texture. The panes were small, set into the window frame in a diamond lattice, but they were still an improvement over the shutters we had in Norathil.

Senna and I led with our quiet steps, while Elara brought up the rear. She was no longer hiding her sword but belting the scabbard around her waist, ready for use. It was a good look for her: samurai-esque in her martial robe. I had to see if I could find her a katana from somewhere; she’d love it.

“Are we going to kill Tarkon?” Senna asked quietly as we crept down the corridor. Her hand was inside the slit of her kirtle, likely resting on the hilt of her dagger.

“Questions first,” I replied firmly. I wanted to know where she was before he died. “But yes.” He took Lira from me, and he was dead from that point onward.

“Good.”

We turned the corner at the end of the corridor, seeing more doors. Light spilled from beneath the second through fourth, and others down the way.

How many rooms did this place have, and how many people were we about to disturb?

I rested my hand on the handle of the second door while both girls prepared themselves either side of me. Elara had drawn her sword and held it doublehanded before her, while Senna had her daggers at the ready.

I gave them a nod, then turned the handle and put my shoulder to the door for good measure.

The door wasn’t locked; it exploded inwards and bounced off the wall, revealing a large chamber that extended on behind the next door, the one we’d seen light beneath outside. Twin beds were before us, while at the other end of the room, a collection of seats ringed the hearth. Tarkon and Raloth were both sitting down, but sprung to their feet as we crashed through their door.

“Where is—” I began, but to his credit, Tarkon was fast. His hands rose, and a jet of flame shot across the room at me.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth as I pulled up my shield rune. Senna dived to the side, but Elara crossed in front of me, catching the spell with one hand extended. The fire struck her palm, singeing the sleeve of her robe, but she showed no discomfort.

Raloth was only a second slower, his hands interweaving as he began his spell. But Senna gave him no chance, blinking behind him and stabbing with both blades. He stiffened, his eyes widening, and he slumped to the floor.

Tarkon’s spell faded away, and he seemed stunned by the ineffectiveness of his magic. Elara closed the gap, the edge of her sword cutting through the air gracefully, only to rest against his neck.

I was torn between pride for the effectiveness of my girls and frustration that I hadn’t had a chance to unleash some of my own anger.

I approached Tarkon with fast, angry strides, and he shrank back before me. Elara stepped away, giving me room, her sword lowering. Tarkon glanced at her with wide eyes, then at Senna who was cleaning her daggers on Raloth’s furs as he bled all over the floor.

“Where is Lira?” I demanded, pulling his attention back to me.

“N … n … next door!” He stammered his answer, and the pungent smell of urine assailed my senses.

I grimaced, then grabbed him by the neck, dragging him toward the corridor. “Show me.”

He scrambled to keep his feet underneath himself, his hands flailing for balance, dragged along as we returned to the hallway outside. Elara and Senna followed, their blades still drawn.

“There!” He pointed at the fourth door down, from which light shone underneath.

“Open it.”

“It’s locked … the key …”

“Elara, open it.”

My paladin stepped past me, gripped the handle, and shoved hard. There was a crunch as the lock gave way, the wood splintering as she forced the door.

It was another bedroom—bed, chairs, hearth—but I had only eyes for Lira, who was rushing across the room and into my arms.

“I heard you next door,” she said, pressing herself against me. “I knew you’d come, but it’s dangerous. The shamans are powerful.”

“They’re in the city,” I said, crushing her to me. Some part of me relaxed to feel her in my arms again, while my possessive, primal core growled in approval. “Are you all right? Have they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, “aside from this.” She lifted her wrist to show a silver manacle, enchanted with runes.

“What is it?” I asked, taking her hand gently and tilting it to examine the cuff.

“It suppresses my magic,” she said bitterly.

I glared at Tarkon, who was squirming in Elara’s grip. “Did you put this on her?”

“Yes,” he squeaked.

“If it’s not off her within the next ten seconds, your head will be bouncing on the floor.”

He whimpered and rushed forward, staggering as Elara released him. “I can’t do it in ten seconds,” he whined. “It will take a minute or two.”

“If you cast any other spells or hurt her in any way, I’ll carve pieces off you before I kill you.”

He whimpered again and began to mutter as he gripped her manacle.

Lira gave me a smile. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

“All of you,” she said, giving Elara and Senna a smile too.

“What have they been doing to you?”

She grimaced. “Making me use my healing magic. They want to learn it.”

“Does the manacle not⁠—?”

“He takes it off each time, and stands over me to make sure I cast nothing else.” She glared at him.

“Where’s your staff?” I asked while I kept an eye on Tarkon. So long as he focused on Lira’s manacle, he’d live for another minute.

“In a chest in their room, as far as I know,” Lira said.

I raised an eyebrow at Tarkon, and he nodded rapidly.

“I’ll get it,” Senna said, slipping out of the door.

“It’s done,” Tarkon announced a moment later, the manacle clicking open and falling away, thumping onto the rug.

“We should go,” Elara murmured, as Senna returned with Lira’s staff. “We’ve made a lot of noise.”

Lira accepted the staff from Senna, but didn’t move, her jaw set with determination. “I’m not leaving without Anya.”

“Who?”

“My maid.” She jerked her chin at Tarkon. “This worm of a man has tortured her every day to make me heal her. She won’t be safe if we leave her.”

I stared at Tarkon in disgust. “He won’t trouble her anymore,” I pulled him away from Lira, and shoved him toward Elara. My paladin’s expression was as distasteful as my own as she caught the shaman, one arm around his throat, the other hand gripping his head. Tarkon thrashed helplessly, clawing ineffectually at her arm as he had an instant to realize what was coming. Elara raised an eyebrow at me, and when I nodded, there was a crack as she unceremoniously snapped his neck. His lifeless body slumped to the floor, eyes wide but unseeing. We all ignored him. “Where is the maid?”

“Her room is down the hall.” Lira made for the corridor, but I put an arm out to stop her.

“Elara first,” I said. “You stay with me, I’m not losing you again.”

Elara stepped out into the corridor, then suddenly spun away. There was a brief scuffle, a thump as a body hit the wall. I was out a second later, to see a guard slipping unconscious to the carpet.

“Another, in the room down there,” she said, nodding down the hallway. “They returned to their room, sharpish like.”

I ginned. ‘Sharpish like’? That was a Senna-ism if ever I heard one, and my heart was so much lighter for having Lira with me again, I could take a moment to enjoy my paladin too.

“Leave them if they don’t come out again,” I said. “Let’s be fast. Lira?”

We moved quickly after that, heading further down the corridor to the room Lira led us to. The door was closed, and no light shone underneath.

“Is it locked?” I asked Lira.

“No idea.”

Elara stepped up, tried the handle, and the door swung open easily enough. The room was empty.

“Is this the right room?” I asked.

“I think so,” Lira said, sounding unsure. “I only saw it once.” She walked into the room, looking around. There was enough light from the torches in the corridor to see, and it didn’t take her long to identify a piece of clothing that had been draped over the edge of the bed. She picked it up. “Yes, this is her room.” She frowned. “Where can she be?”

Footsteps echoed down the hallway toward us; someone running. I spun, expecting to see Elara with her blade raised, but it was lowered instead. A moment later, a girl appeared in the doorway. She was tall, about Senna’s age, dressed in an off-white kirtle. A slim girl, pretty with pale skin, her long brown hair tied loosely in a ponytail, blue eyes widening as she saw me with Lira.

I leaped forward, sliding one arm around her waist to hold her, my other hand covering her mouth. “Don’t scream. We won’t hurt you.”

She stared at me for a heartbeat, then nodded stiffly. I released her cautiously, but she made no effort to bolt. Instead, she addressed Lira. “M’lady?”

“I told you about Kaelan,” Lira said, gesturing at me with one hand. “And this is Senna and Elara. I’m leaving, and I want you to come with us. You’ll be safe with us.”

“I … er …”

“Tarkon is dead, Anya,” I said gently. “You can come with us if you would like to.”

She hesitated for a moment, not blinking, then slowly nodded.

“We need to move,” Senna muttered. “I can’t believe we’re not already swimming in guards.”

“No killing on the way out unless we have to,” I said, mindful of what Arik had asked of me.

“How are we going to get past the gate guards then?” Senna asked.

“Um … I could help?” Anya offered quietly. “They know me.”

I raised an eyebrow, but kept my opinions to myself. I rather doubted a maid could lead a group like ours out through the gates without incident, but she might prove enough of a distraction to get close enough. I glanced at Senna, and she nodded, understanding the same.

“Quickly but quietly, then.” I took Lira’s hand tightly in mine, and she squeezed back, not letting go.

Anya pushed past me, grabbing an outside cloak from a chest, which she pulled on as she led us back into the corridor. She didn’t run, but walked quickly, showing surprising fortitude given the shock our presence must have been.

The hallway was empty, save for the unconscious guard, and continued to be as we reached the corner.

Aside from a couple of door bangs, we hadn’t made that much noise. It would be nice to get away so easily. I wondered how long we’d been, and how soon before Morvak and the shamans returned. I glanced through the windows into the courtyard below, and it still looked quiet.

“We should get windows like these in Norathil,” I murmured to Lira; always happy to borrow good ideas from the enemy.

She gave me a smile.

We were both lighter of heart for being back together, and it was an effort not to take her in my arms. But I could wait another few minutes.

Zerak was waiting as we descended the staircase into the entrance room. “Ah, you found them.” He was addressing Anya.

“Yes, thank you, Zerak,” she answered with a smile, her voice gentle. Her accent sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. It didn’t sound Saromiran.

The steward stood politely as we trooped past him, a slightly vacant look in his eyes.

“Where is Arik?” I asked him, and he focused on me.

“The Fang went to the dungeons,” he replied. “He said not to wait for him.”

If that was where his wives were, I wondered how he’d get them out. Would his rank be sufficient?

Yet in that moment, Arik walked through one of the open doorways, alone and looking grim. His gaze flicked over Anya and Lira, then he nodded to me. “One of us was successful at least. We should leave.”

Our chances of escaping safely had just increased.

We trooped out after Arik, Anya falling to the rear. The guards outside the door came to attention when they saw us.

“What are you—” the one who had spoken before began, then he clearly thought better of it, his eyes unfocusing as he came to attention, turning to stare straight ahead. Arik gave him a nod that went unseen, and we walked past.

The gate guards were even easier, letting us leave without questions. They inclined their heads to Anya as she passed, giving her a warm smile.

Perhaps she could have gotten us out even without Arik.

We walked away quickly, ducking into a side street as soon as the opportunity availed. All in all, it had been far easier than I’d expected.

“Your wives?” I asked Arik.

“In the dungeons,” he said, his eyes flashing with barely suppressed fury. “It is past the barracks, and there were too many guards.”

“They are alive,” I said, gripping his shoulder with my hand. “I swear, I will help you get them back.”

It was the least I could do with Lira returned to me; I knew how he felt.

He took a steadying breath, calming himself with an effort. “You are a man of honor,” he said. “Let’s get to the tavern.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I said, pulling Lira into my arms.

She melded against me, her mouth finding mine.

It was late, and we were in the Brown Buck. Arik had had a quiet word with the proprietor, and some ‘changes had been made’. We had a suite—likely the best on offer—with two adjoining rooms. Arik had insisted we got the largest room, taking one of the smaller ones. Anya had the other.

I kissed Lira back hungrily, taking my time. After a while she pushed into my chest, breaking the kiss with a breathless sigh of contentment.

Elara and Senna sat around the hearth, watching us with smiles.

“So what happened?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her to stand between my knees, my hands on her waist. I didn’t want to stop touching her.

Lira rested her hands on my shoulders. “Not much. Tarkon and Raloth drugged me, and I woke up as we were crossing the mountains.” She shivered. “I’ve never been so cold. They put the cuff on me while I was unconscious, and when I tried to use my magic, they just laughed. I told them I had an elemental protection ritual, and the bastards wouldn’t even let me use that.”

I felt my jaw clench and had to be careful not to grip her too tight with my hands. She smiled down at me and bent to brush her lips with mine. “They’re dead now,” she reminded me.

I pulled her into my lap, needing her closer. She wriggled to get comfortable, one arm looped around my neck, then finished her story.

“We met a warband once we’d crossed the mountains, then rode at speed for Krennar.”

“Did you meet Morvak?”

“No, I never saw him,” Lira replied. “I saw the other shamans, though.” She shivered. “They are powerful, Kaelan. Much more so than Tarkon. Please be careful of them.”

“They’re not my goal,” I said. “If we can deal with Morvak, their power should wane. Kill him, then we can leave.”

“I’m not so sure,” Lira demurred. “I think it’s them, more than Morvak, who want the clans united and the war with Valorah.”

“Why?” I asked in surprise.

“It solidifies their power,” she answered simply. “I believe they feel threatened by the claws, and because some clans have rejected their authority. They want to rule all of Saromir, not just the area around Krennar.”

“What does that have to do with Valorah?”

“It’s an excuse,” Lira shrugged. “A unifying enemy to focus on brings the clans together. Then they intend to keep their power.”

“But Morvak wants my pyramid.”

“Yes,” Lira said. “Their goals align. In fairness, I’m not sure if Morvak is using them, or they are using Morvak. I don’t know what Morvak is capable of, but I do know the shamans feel he isn’t wholly within their control. Tarkon told me of a ritual they intend to perform to bind him more. They’re dangerous, Kaelan.”

“So I have to kill Morvak and the shamans,” I said grimly. “I need to get into the pyramid first. I can’t take on all of them without knowing Morvak’s weaknesses.”

“Morvak has a room somewhere in the enclave.” Lira frowned, her brow furrowing most attractively. “There may be information within that could help. I know he’s been in the pyramid a lot, but Tarkon said he’d apparently been spending days in the enclave of late.”

“That might give me a chance to get into the pyramid without him knowing.”

“I don’t know how well-guarded it is,” Lira said thoughtfully, “but Anya might know.”

“Do you trust her?”

“Absolutely,” she said firmly. “We’ve grown close, Kaelan.” She sighed, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. “Tarkon would strike her, or cast a spell to hurt her, then make me heal her. Over and over, every day. That bastard tortured her, and he did it in part because I tried to protect her.” She sighed. “It’s my fault she went through all that.”

The door to Anya’s room burst open and she came rushing in. “That’s not true!” she cried as she hurried to where we sat cuddling, dropping to her knees at Lira’s feet. “If they hadn’t hurt me, they’d have hurt you, instead.”

Anya had clearly been eavesdropping, but maybe the walls weren’t too thick.

Lira slipped from my lap to take Anya in her arms, hugging as if each was reassuring the other that they were safe. Elara and Senna had tensed as she’d stormed in, Senna already reaching for her dagger, but they both relaxed and gave me wry smiles while we waited.

“I wanted to stop them hurting you,” Anya said, with tears in her blue eyes. “I knew they wouldn’t kill me, and I knew you would heal me. What does a little pain matter?”

“It was more than a little!” Lira protested. “Some of the things they did⁠—”

Anya shook her head. “It wasn’t that bad, really. I’ve had worse.”

“It’s over now,” I said firmly. “They’re both dead, and you’re both safe.”

Lira wiped her eyes on her sleeve and gave Anya a smile. “See? I told you he was like this.”

Both girls rose from the floor, still holding each other for support.

“I heard what you were saying,” Anya said, not meeting my eyes. “I can … I can get you to the pyramid.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You can?”

“Yes. I know the way. And I know when Morvak will be there, and when he won’t be. We could even go now, tonight.”

I braced myself, knowing whatever was inside wouldn’t be pleasant. “Then let’s go. The sooner the better.” I checked the time on my secret world clock, and it was just after midnight.

“I’ll come too.” Lira reached for her cloak.

“No, you most certainly won’t,” I said firmly. “You’ll stay here with Elara and Senna. You don’t want to be anywhere near that pyramid.”

“I’m not going to the pyramid,” Lira said firmly. “Once Anya has dropped you off, she and I are going to the enclave.”

“What?”

“I want to get into Morvak’s room. The answers we need might already be there, just waiting for us.”

I stared at her. “No. Fucking. Way. I’ve just got you back! I am certainly not letting you go again.”

Her chin came up, her jaw clenching in determination. “This isn’t just about Morvak—it’s about Valorah and stopping the army. If we don’t understand how to defeat him, we’ll never halt their invasion.”

I stared at her. “We’ve just got you out, and you want to walk straight back into the fire. Do you realize what you’re asking?”

“I do, and I know it’s difficult for you. But you need that intelligence. Without it, you’re fighting blind. Let me do this, Kaelan. I won’t take unnecessary risks—I’ll get in, get the information, and get out.”

“You won’t take any unnecessary risks?” I echoed in disbelief. “What you’re suggesting is an unnecessary risk!”

“It’s a necessary risk.”

“The shamans will be there, not to mention all the guards. How will you get in?”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts, as stubborn as ever. “Anya can get me in.”

“Say she does, and he’s waiting for you in his room?” I cut through the air with my hand. “Not a chance. It’s far too dangerous.”

“It’s a risk, yes,” she admitted, “but what risks are you taking going into the pyramid?”

“Nothing that will be permanent,” I ground out through clenched teeth.

She softened her gaze, closing the gap between us and pushing her hand into my chest. “I saw what the last pyramid did to you. You might be immortal, but you’re not invincible.”

I was vaguely aware Anya had been looking between us both as we argued, but now she stared at me, eyes wide. “You’re immortal?”

I ignored her. “I’m better prepared this time,” I told Lira. “I know what’s at stake.”

“At the very least, you need me with you to bless the altar,” she said pointedly. “Otherwise, if something happens…”

I sighed. “Damn you, woman, for being right all the time. Fine. Bless this bed first, then you can come to the pyramid. But no further. You bless the altar, then you and Anya come back here.”

She held my gaze for a long moment, then lowered her eyes. “I promise we’ll come back here after we’ve blessed the altar.”

“Thank—” I folded my arms, staring at her. She’d agreed too easily. “Now promise that once you’ve come back here, you’ll stay here.”

Her chin came up, eyes flashing. But when she saw my glare, she sighed. “Fine, dammit. I won’t go into the enclave until you’ve had a chance at the pyramid. Will that do?”

“It’ll do for now,” I said, “but we still talk about it before you do anything.” I held up my hand as she opened her mouth. “We don’t have time to argue more. On this occasion, I just want to know you’re safe.”

She closed her mouth again, then shook her head and gave me a beautiful smile. “Do you know we only argue when we’re both trying to keep the other safe?”

“I know that sometimes you’re more trouble than Senna and more stubborn than Elara,” I muttered. “But I love all three of you.” I looked at Anya. “We can go now?”

“Er … yes.” She was staring at me in awe. “Of course.”

“We’ll just sit here and mind the fire then,” Senna said sarcastically.

“Don’t you start too.” I glared at her and Elara. “I need you all safe, so I can focus on what needs to be done.”

“I will keep them safe, Sire,” Elara said, dropping into formal speech. I knew she was thinking of the oath she made to me—to protect not only me, but my wives too—and it was likely she saw this as an opportunity to make up for what she thought were her failures.

Damn, all my women were complex creatures. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Let me bless the bed before we go.” Lira muttered to herself as she summoned her magic. Blue light spread from her hands and sank into the bed, and within a few moments she was done.

“Is that it?” I asked. I had thought there was more to it than that.

“I’ve got a lot faster since I did this the first few times,” she said as she pulled her cloak on. “Are we going?”

“Yes, we’re going.” I reached for my own cloak, and Anya went to fetch hers from her room, returning swiftly. I glanced at Elara. “Will you tell Arik where we’ve gone if he asks?”

“Of course.”

Senna gave an exasperated sigh as we left the room.

Lira gave me a smile in the hallway. “We just want to help, you know.”

“I know,” I said. “And all of you are competent. But there’re some things you can do, and some you can’t. This is one you can’t. I need to go into that pyramid alone.”

We followed Anya outside into the night, our path illuminated by a torch she’d brought from the tavern. She led us unerringly through the dark, winding streets of Krennar, while gentle snowflakes drifted down. It was late enough that it was quiet, and we saw no other soul.

The pyramid was hard to miss, looming up in the center of the city, drawing closer with each turn Anya made. At last, she stopped in the shadows of a wall, and the pyramid was before us.

It sat just north of the large central square, no buildings near it—save for the stage Morvak and the shamans had used. There was no cover to hide our approach, and no obvious signs of a forced entry. However Morvak had gotten in; he hadn’t used brute force like I had. Maybe he’d found the secret switch in the temple room, assuming one was there? It was the only answer that made sense.

But there was no one around, not that I could see.

“Are there guards?” I asked Anya.

“Why would it be guarded?” she asked. “There’s nothing valuable within.”

My plans depended on that not being true, but in some respects she wasn’t wrong. Only Morvak and I would find the contents of value.

“So we can just walk in?”

“Yes,” Anya said, looking at me strangely.

“Then let’s go.”

We hurried across the open ground to the steps that led up, and I smiled to myself as I mentally added to the times I’d climbed a pyramid staircase. Up: twice. Down: still too many to count.

The temple room at the top was just as the one in Norathil had been, before we’d shifted the altar and dug into the floor, save that it was all in polished gray basalt. Some other minor differences: no torch-filled sconces on the pillars, and no equipment rack with arms and armor sized to me.

Lira didn’t hesitate, crossing to the stone table that sat in the center between the four pillars, and soon her blue magic sank into the stone. I checked my respawn menu, and both the tavern and the altar were showing, the latter listed as ‘Morvak’s Pyramid’.

Seeing it like that gave me a thrill of both anticipation and fear.

“All right, you’re done,” I told Lira. “Thank you for coming, now both of you get back to the tavern.”

“What are you going to do here?” Anya asked, her head cocked to the side as she looked around with curiosity.

“God things,” Lira answered her with a smile at me, then took the other girl’s hand and pulled her away. “Good luck, my love. You can do this.”

I blew her a kiss, and waited until they’d left.

Then I walked to the back of the temple room, and began to run my fingers over the smooth, cool basalt, about seven feet from the ground.

It didn’t take me long to find what I sought.

A section of the wall slid smoothly up, hardly making a noise, revealing a staircase leading down into the darkness.

On instinct, I turned for one of the torches that sat within the sconces, but of course there were none there. I gave a little chuckle, then summoned a flame in my hand like I had when I showed Arik my magic. It gave out more than enough light for my night vision.

Once inside, I pressed the switch on the other side, and the door closed behind me.

“All right,” I said, half to the pyramid and half to myself, “let’s do this again.”

If this pyramid continued to be like mine, there’d be nothing until I reached the sand trap. But Morvak must’ve found a way past that if he’d reached the center—and I knew he had, because he knew where my pyramid was.

Which was fortunate, because I hadn’t brought my snowshoes.

Still, I could probably find a solution with my runes if it were needed. Or at least, I hoped I could.

My thoughts took me down the first few levels of the pyramid, and it was just like being back in Norathil. Eerily similar, save for the black stone that was everywhere. While my pyramid was marble on the outside and granite within, Morvak’s ran to basalt through and through. It made sense that the original architects had used whatever stone was near, and given that Krennar was built from the stuff, there must be plenty around.

The corridors continued to follow the edge of the pyramid, growing longer as I descended each level. I tried to remember how long they were by the time I encountered the sand trap, but could only estimate. I thought the sand trap was on the northern side, in a tunnel that ran east-west, but again I couldn’t be sure. I accessed my settings and pulled my compass up—every corridor looked the same, and it was easy to forget which side I was on.

My heart was beating loudly in my chest as the anticipation of the sand trap built. I knew I was close—would it be obvious that Morvak had destroyed it? Had he somehow found another way past it? Could it still be there?

I began to search each new piece of the floor for grains of sand, telltale signs that I was close, but each corridor was clear.

On the next floor, I was certain I was on the right level; the corridors were long enough. I couldn’t descend any further without reaching the steps down to the rune room. I reached the east-west passage without incident, and turned the corner with my pulse racing. I inched forward, my flame held high in my hand, straining my eyes in the gloom for any signs of the trap.

And there was nothing there.

No grains of sand, no signs that a trap had been destroyed.

Did this pyramid even have a sand trap? Had Morvak had an open run through to his central core?

I shook my head in disbelief. Could it really be that easy?

I still inched along, not believing there was nothing there. A step. Another.

Then, from behind me, came staggering, uneven footsteps.

I whirled in surprise, my light held high.

“Kaelan…” A pained murmur through the darkness, but a voice I knew only too well.

Lira staggered around the corner, her hand held over her stomach. Blood stained her fingers scarlet, the wound deep. Her kirtle was drenched in it, her face pale. She supported herself against the wall, leaving a crimson smear on the smooth basalt stone.

“No!” I ran back to meet her, catching her as she slumped in my arms. “What happened?”

“I’m … sorry …” she breathed, then her eyes lost their focus, glazing over.

“Lira!” Her gaze was unseeing. “Lira!” I shouted, shaking her. Her hands fell away from her wound, and I saw it clearly: a stab from a blade, deep into her stomach. She’d come down after me with a wound like this.

I pushed my fingers into the side of her neck, but there was no pulse.

“Lira…” I could hear the desperation in my voice. She didn’t need that now. She needed my strength.

I lay her down on the cold basalt floor, dispelling my flame and creating it again on the ground beside me. Then I linked my hands together and pressing into her chest as I had once before, on the cobbled streets of Norathil. “Come on, Lira,” I willed her between presses. “Do something. Heal yourself.”

She stared upward, sightlessly, her body jerking each time I pushed into her chest.

“Please, Lira.”

I kept going, even knowing it was futile. With her eyes like that, staring so lifelessly…

“Please, Lira…”

I started sobbing her name.

Her blood was on my hands, and pooled around her body.

I checked again for a pulse, and there was nothing. Not even a flutter.

She was dead.

I couldn’t believe it.

Lira was dead.

Chapter Twenty-Two

What had happened? What had gone wrong?

Why hadn’t she healed herself? Why had she come down here?

Perhaps the wound had been too great. Maybe she’d needed my God Touch to heal herself. That she could’ve made it down this far was a miracle in itself.

For longer than I knew, I sat on the floor beside her, cradling her to my chest. Lost in grief.

Why hadn’t she gone back to the tavern? Where was Anya? Maybe she was dead, too. How had Lira even got in here?

Wait … how had Lira even got in here?

I’d never shown her the switch that opened the secret passage—had I?

I thought back, trying to remember.

Had I ever used that entrance myself, back in my own pyramid in Norathil, except when I’d come up through it?

I was certain I hadn’t.

Granted, I’d told her it existed—of that, I was certain. But not how to find it, and even knowing it was there, without knowing where…

I stared down at Lira’s lifeless body, filled with grief. What did it matter how she came to be here? The only thing that mattered was that she was dead.

They must’ve run into guards outside, as soon as they left. There was a fight, she was stabbed … she escaped, climbed back up the steps with a wound like that … somehow found the switch …

I shook my head. Bullshit. Impossible. It couldn’t have happened like that.

There was no way. Too much to believe. Too unlikely. Not with a wound in her stomach that severe.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Was that grief talking? Wasn’t denial the first stage?

No. I didn’t believe it.

I pushed back from Lira, staring down at her. Lying there. So still, so … real.

I swallowed hard, then stood up. “Nice try, pyramid. Almost got me.” Fuck, but had it almost got me. My clothing was drenched in sweat, my heart was still racing. I still wasn’t fully convinced that Lira wasn’t lying at my feet.

But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

It was impossible.

And then her body disappeared, fading away in an instant.

Popping like the illusion she was.

I leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. Thank fuck. Oh, thank fuck.

This hadn’t been real after all. Lira wasn’t dead, she was alive. Safe.

Unless this was a premonition? Was that the power of this pyramid?

There was no sand trap. I’d have been sitting in the middle of it, I was certain. I pulled up my map to check. Yep. Middle of the east-west corridor.

I had to go back. I had to go and see for myself.

Conjuring my portable flame to my hand once more, I ran out, back up through the many floors, pushing mana into my willwind rune for the extra speed. Flight after flight of stairs, taking the corners so fast I ricocheted off the walls. Pushing the hidden switch at the top, willing the door to slide open faster.

Before it had even opened halfway, I’d ducked beneath it. And here I paused, taking a few seconds to assure myself there was no blood smeared on the walls, no crimson handprints where Lira had searched for the switch.

The basalt was polished smooth, gleaming in the light of my flame. There wasn’t a mark on it.

Yet I didn’t need my flame to see it. The early morning light was casting a haze through the temple, both from the open doorway and the windows high in the walls.

Had I been inside the pyramid for so long?

Dawn had been hours away. It hadn’t taken me that long, had it? Half an hour to get down there, ten minutes to get back up. Maybe ten more trying to save …

I swallowed, the memory of her sightless eyes all too vivid in my mind.

Call it an hour, and even that was generous. Maybe it was an hour after midnight when I went in, but it was near dawn now—and the sun rose late. I certainly hadn’t been in there for six hours.

And yet, I had, for the sunrise didn’t lie.

I rushed past the stone altar that my beloved High Priestess had blessed a few hours before, down the icy steps of the pyramid, my windwill rune providing the agility I needed. Even so, I went recklessly fast.

The square was still empty, and I sprinted across it for the relative safety of the streets. I was still dressed as a Saromiran, and my face wasn’t known here. There was no reason to think I’d be recognized, though questions would be asked if the wrong people saw me leave the pyramid.

I made it back to the Brown Buck in twenty minutes, surprising the staff as I burst in while they were cleaning the tables in preparation for breakfast. I ignored their exclamations and took the stairs two at a time. The door of our room was locked, and I hammered on it insistently, not caring if I woke the whole damn floor. I didn’t want to burst it open, but if someone didn’t answer in the next few seconds…

Elara pulled it open, her naked sword in her hand. She had her robe on—barely. I’d gotten her out of bed.

“Where’s Lira?” I said, pushing past her.

My High Priestess sat up in bed, the blankets falling down to her waist.

She was alive and well, staring at me sleepily, her expression changing to alarm as she saw me.

“Kaelan? What⁠—”

I leaped across to her, gathering her in my arms and crushing her fiercely to my chest as I half fell onto the bed. I buried my nose in the side of her neck, breathing in her scent, and felt tears trickle down from my eyes.

“All the more reason Anya and I should break into Morvak’s room,” Lira argued.

“No. No, no and still fucking no.” She was sitting on my lap—I didn’t want to put her down—and I gave her a squeeze for emphasis. “After what I’ve just gone through, there is no way in hell that I am letting you walk into Morvak’s room alone.”

“So we all go.”

“And risk walking into Morvak and the shamans too, when I don’t know what I’m fighting yet?” I shook my head. “I was certain Morvak looked at me in the square. I think he knows who I am. If we turn up there, it’ll be a fight—I’m sure of it. And without the information we need, it’s just another way to get you killed. Not just you, but Senna too. Even maybe Elara.”

The other girls had pulled on some clothes, more for warmth than modesty. Senna had gotten the fire going again, but the room still wasn’t warm. Other than me, Anya was the only one fully dressed, sitting on a chair by the fire, staring wide-eyed as she listened. I hadn’t been quiet as I’d explained what had happened, and she’d snuck in halfway. Only Arik was missing, and I was pretty sure that was out of respect of our privacy, rather than because he was still asleep.

“I agree with Kaelan,” Elara said diplomatically, then shrugged an apology as Lira glared at her. “I don’t disagree that there may be information we can use in Morvak’s room, but it sounds to me like a sure-fire way of being caught. The question is, what do we do instead?”

“I go back in,” I said firmly. “Tonight.”

“No.” Lira shook her head. “I don’t want to see you like that ever again. You scared me.”

“You scared me,” I gave a dry chuckle. “And I don’t want to see you like that ever again.” I couldn’t help the shudder that came at the memory. “But I know what to expect now.”

“Why wasn’t there a sand trap?” Senna asked thoughtfully.

I glanced at her in surprise, then laughed.

“What?” she said. “We were expecting a sand trap, weren’t we?”

“You’re absolutely right,” I said with a smile. “I wasn’t laughing at that. But you usually make some sarcastic comment, not ask relevant questions.”

She made a face at me. “So you’re saying that you laugh when I ask something intelligent yet you don’t laugh when I make jokes?”

“I laugh inside,” I said deadpan, as Elara and Lira grinned.

Senna stuck her tongue out at me. “Sand trap?”

“Yes. So, I had been working under the assumption that Morvak’s pyramid was the same as mine. Clearly, it’s not.”

“No rune room,” Lira said thoughtfully.

“No rune room,” I agreed.

“Well, that’s good, right?”

I grimaced. “It’s good … and it’s not. At least I know how to solve the rune room. But when I get past this illusion trap, I’ll have something else to face. And there’s no telling what it’ll be.”

Lira’s expression reflected her concern. “I don’t like you going through this again.”

“There’s no other choice,” I said.

She didn’t even bother blinking, staring at me flatly, her face devoid of emotion save for the slight disbelieving furrow of her brow that screamed, 'Really?’ “Morvak’s room?”

“If you mention that again I’m going to spank you,” I muttered.

“Morvak’s room?” she said with a smile. Then her face brightened, and she jumped enthusiastically on my lap. “Oh! I know!”

“What?”

“Morvak’s room!”

“Why don’t you all go and find some breakfast,” I said to the girls. “Not you,” I added, as Lira made to get up.

Senna grinned as she pulled on her kirtle, then waited as Elara found her undershirt and re-tied her martial robe. Anya shifted her weight from foot to foot, her face bright crimson, then was first out of the door when they were ready.

“You scared the crap out of me last night,” I said to Lira, as soon as the door closed.

“Wasn’t me,” she replied, kissing along the side of my jaw. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m not going anywhere, my God.”

I pulled up the hem of her shirt, and she lifted her arms, helping me. It was all she was wearing.

“You really need a spanking, but I don’t know how thick these walls are. And Arik is next door.”

“Oh, pooh,” she pouted. “I get something though, right?”

I spun her around, throwing her onto her back on the bed. “Damn right,” I said, gripping her knees and pushing them back, opening her to me. “Scream into the pillow.”

Activate Divine Strength: Sex (Women).

Divine Strength activated: Sex (Women). Duration: one hour.

And then, for added sadism, I pulled up my willwind rune.

I gave her a long, slow lick, tasting her, and she was already wet. Then I licked again, up to her clit, and flicked my tongue across it. With my speed boosted, the tip of my tongue flicked over and around her clit, back and forth, faster than ever before.

“Oh, fuck,” Lira gasped, her body tensing as I tormented her.

I didn’t stay there long, but licked back down again, pushing my tongue inside her. Her hips twitched, but I gripped her thighs, holding her where I wanted her. Then I thrust my tongue inside her and wiggled it, seeing how fast I could go.

“Oh, my God.” Lira barely managed to pull the pillow across her face before she cried out into it, the sound muffled yet still satisfying.

I grinned. With my speed boosted, this was fun.

I alternated between slow, teasing licks from her opening, up to her clit, and moments of intensity as I flicked my tongue back and forth in just the right spot. I amused myself as I pushed the limits of what my rune-boosted speed could do while keeping her on the edge of her orgasm. With my skill boosted so high, it was easy to read the signs. I could keep her at the edge of the precipice for as long as I wanted, just by listening to the pitch of her cries, the way her breathing changed, the tension in her body, and the involuntary squirming of her hips.

There was one good way to get those images of her out of my head, and this was it. I was going to make her come again and again, until the sheet and my beard were both soaked with her arousal.

But first, I was going to tease her until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Within moments, she was begging and whimpering into the pillow, her thighs trembling beneath my hands.

“Please,” she gasped, her hips pushing up to my face in a desperate effort to get more of what she needed.

Yet I denied her. Without the option for a spanking, there had to be other punishments.

I licked and teased, bringing her again and again to the edge of her peak, but never so far that she could fall through into the bliss of her release.

“Please,” she whined into the pillow, drawing out the muffled word as I tormented her mercilessly. “Please let me come.”

At last, I took pity on her, returning my tongue to her clit and licking over and around, back and forth, as fast as my god-like magic would allow. She cried out, her body shaking with the strength of her orgasm, and clutched the pillow so hard to her face I wondered how she could breathe.

I kept licking, even as her hips began to twitch with the sensitivity of it, until she came down from her high and began to beg me again. “No more … please … catch breath … please …”

It was cute. But I’d only just begun.

I stood in the hallway in the lower level of Morvak’s pyramid, my flame in one hand illuminating the basalt walls, and grimaced at the trap I knew lay right ahead.

Morvak had somehow got through without deactivating it. If he had, I could too.

I pulled up my resistance rune, filling it with the strongest intent I could muster for a clear mind and to avoid that which wasn’t real. Emotion was easy to bring; I was determined not to see Lira like that ever again.

“Come on, you bastards, bring your best.”

Then I started walking.

“Kaelan!” Lira called to me, one hand extended in a desperate plea, but I ignored her, walking faster.

Senna appeared before me, looking bored. “I think I’ll leave,” she drawled. “You’re always holding me back. I’m going to go off on my own. I’ll be seeing you … or not, I guess.”

I walked through her, not stopping. But was that her perception, or mine? I’d have to address that, and sooner rather than later.

Elara was next, standing in her full armor. That was a mistake: we’d left it destroyed in Salok’s camp. “Talene was right, Kaelan. You don’t⁠—”

“Oh, shut up,” I muttered, walking past her.

My father was next, lashing his open hand out toward me, and I flinched in reflex. The blow landed across my cheek, and I could feel the sting of it. Then I clenched my jaw, drawing myself up as I faced him.

“You’ve always been a waste of space,” he sneered, his expression dripping with derision. “You’ll never amount to anything.”

I grinned. The trap was getting desperate if it thought that would work.

“How about a god?” I asked him, and pushed past.

He disappeared into nothing, like the illusion he’d always been. Some of my happiest childhood memories were of watching him leave.

Then I was through. There was nothing more. Just open hallway, stretching down to the next corner.

I exhaled slowly, feeling my shirt sticking to my back.

“One down, one to go,” I muttered. “What’s next, pyramid?”

Around the corner, the staircase I’d known would be there awaited. I followed it down, a step at a time, my pulse racing.

It terminated, as I’d known it would, in a dead end. It took me less than ten seconds to find the switch, high above my head on the back wall. The door slid up, revealing what in my pyramid would’ve been the rune room.

It was empty.

Ten feet ahead stood the double doors that marked the final barrier to the core of the pyramid, but there was nothing in the way: no runes, no holes in the ceiling and floor, just smooth, gleaming, polished rock.

Nothing to see here.

Had Morvak disabled this trap?

But then I’d thought he’d disabled the last one, and he hadn’t. He’d just gone through it.

I stood staring at the empty ten-foot-by-ten-foot room for a long moment, wondering what I was about to face.

Then I took a deep breath, and walked in.

Chapter Twenty-Three

My alarm clock woke me, and I groggily turned over and slapped it.

Then I stared at it.

Shit.

How could it be eight o’clock already? I’d set it for six, hadn’t I?

I threw off my duvet and leaped up, wondering if I had time for a shower. I took a sniff; time or not, I had to have one.

The water hadn’t warmed up when I jumped in, and I gasped as the cold spray doused me, shivering as I began to scrub.

I was going to be so late. So fucked. The brand identity presentation was this morning, and I knew I wasn’t ready. And now I was going to be late as well.

How could I have overslept?

I fucking hated Mondays. I couldn’t even remember what I’d been doing last night, but whatever it was I regretted it. My head was pounding. Had I been drinking?

Brushing my teeth, I stared at myself in the mirror. I needed a shave, but there wasn’t time. I’d have to try and rock the designer stubble look and hope I could pull it off. But my eyes were bleary, and the truth was I looked like shit.

Great job, Kaelan. Best ever time for it.

Right before a presentation. With my new boss there.

Wait … Kaelan? Where the fuck had that come from?

Wake the fuck up, Nigel.

I shook my head. I must be losing it—lack of sleep, stress, rushed.

I concentrated on getting my stuff together. Pulling some clothes on, grabbing my laptop bag, making sure I had everything I needed. Ignoring the empty beer cans that littered the floor around the sofa. Out the door in less than half an hour—not bad, but not good enough. It was an hour’s drive to the office on a good day, and it was raining. It wasn’t going to be a good day.

My new boss was going to be pissed. And I hadn’t even met her yet. And my head hurt.

There was traffic. Of course there was traffic. The one day I wanted an easy run, and the I-90 was a parking lot. This was precisely why I usually left at half past seven. No way I’d get there before nine-thirty at this rate, and that was when the presentation was due to start.

I sat in the traffic, bored out of my mind, the windscreen wipers going flip-flop, flip-flop, a sorrowful representation of my life. Each beat echoed in my head in time to the pounding, and though I looked, I had no Advil in the glovebox.

To add insult to injury, I passed a billboard advertising Morvak cologne. That was the contract we wanted, but if I was honest, there was a snowball’s chance in hell. My presentation sucked, I sucked, and we weren’t going to be ready when the client came in this afternoon.

I sighed, considering calling in sick and turning around. But that would likely just get me fired.

New goal: get through the day without being fired.

By the time I pulled into the parking garage on State Street and found a space, it was already quarter to ten, and I still had a twelve-minute walk.

I ran. I was so fucked. The rain pelted down, and I was soaked in minutes, my shoes splashing through puddles. Every step reverberated in my head, making my headache worse, and I winced as I ran.

“Morning, Nige. Need a towel?” Clint grinned at his own sally as I passed him in the foyer, likely heading out for his latte, golf umbrella in hand. He did less work than anyone I knew, and yet was still loved by management. It helped that his dad ran the company. “They’re already in the meeting, by the way. Running a little late?”

“Fuck off,” I muttered, too quiet for him to hear, and pummeled the button for the elevator.

“You look like shit, by the way.” He smirked. “Good way to meet your new boss. I hear she’s a hard-ass.”

The elevator spat me out onto the fifth floor, and I fast-walked down the corridor, past the rows of open-plan desks. There was some audible tutting pitched to reach my ears, some of it playful banter, most of it not. The meeting was in the boardroom at the end of the hall; the door was closed, the blinds drawn.

I took a breath, smoothed down my rain-soaked, crumpled shirt as best I could, and went in.

“Nigel. At last.” Thomas (call me ‘Tommy’) Levine was the Director of Operations, and he was an ass when he was in a good mood. Judging from the way he was staring at me, the good mood may have disappeared twenty-three minutes before.

“Apologies for being late, everyone,” I gave a self-deprecating smile as I pulled my laptop from my bag. “Surprisingly heavy traffic this morning.”

“It usually is when you leave after nine,” someone said dryly. There were no chuckles in response; that wasn’t a good sign.

“Nigel, I don’t believe you’ve met Anya, our new Creative Director?” Rebecca, our Brand Strategist, waved across the table at the new face in the room. I quite liked Rebecca, but even she wasn’t smiling at me this morning.

“Nice to meet you, Anya,” I said. As soon as I met her gaze, my head decided to give a kick-ass throb, and my smile turned into a wince. It was all I could do to not gasp at the pain.

She noticed, of course, thinking the wince was directed at her. She frowned in response, one delicate eyebrow arching slightly. She was younger than I expected—younger than me, and that was irritating for a number of reasons. Maybe she was Clint’s brother; only nepotism could’ve got her a role so senior at such an age. Plus, it was an unpleasant reminder of what I should’ve been doing at this point in my career.

If you could call this a career, and not just a dead-end, underpaid job.

Despite my headache, I couldn’t help but notice she was attractive. Beautiful, even—pale skin, delicate features, with her long dark hair tied in a neat plait, and startling blue eyes. She wore a suit jacket over a blouse that looked like it was silk, and either her breasts were in a push-up bra or she had the fullest, perkiest chest I’d seen in a long time.

She pointedly cleared her throat, a hint of color in her cheeks, and I realized too late I’d been staring.

“Er …” I cleared my own throat. “The Morvak account is coming in this afternoon,” I began, as I fumbled with getting my presentation up on the large screen, “and I’ve been tasked with summarizing our offerings…”

“Well, that went about as badly as it could’ve gone,” Rebecca said quietly, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“No shit,” I murmured, wincing. My head was pounding. As a rule, I didn’t get migraines, but this sure as hell felt like one. I tried to focus on unplugging my laptop and packing it back up, and even that was proving to be a challenge.

Tommy walked past, deliberately and obviously ignoring me.

“Are you all right?” Rebecca asked, with genuine concern in her voice.

Before I could answer, Anya paused beside us. “Nigel, perhaps you could join me in my office.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Er … of course.”

Rebecca gave me another smile, but it lacked conviction, and her eyes showed her worry.

I grabbed my bag, stuffing my laptop in as I walked, keen to catch up my new boss before she disappeared. I didn’t know which office she had, and it would be a further embarrassment to have to try and find it, keeping her waiting for the second time in as many hours.

I followed her down the corridor like a good puppy. Anya was wearing a skirt suit, it transpired, her skirt tight across a heart-shaped ass to go with the chest I’d already spent too long admiring. Black garter stockings, accentuating her shapely calves, clung to legs that kept going up, the skirt just short enough to hint at the lacy tops. I swallowed a sigh. Being attracted to your new boss did not help in the work environment.

She opened the door to the corner office that I could’ve sworn had belonged to our CFO. How did she merit this? It was large, airy, and had fantastic views out over Boston. She didn’t choose to sit behind the glass desk, but instead walked to stand before the window, looking out, her back to me.

I closed the door behind me, wondering if I should stand too, or take one of the two chairs before her desk. In the end, I thought the hell with it—I might as well get comfortable for what was sure to be an awkward conversation.

She didn’t look at me when she addressed me, and her tone was flat. “I reviewed your record, Mr. Wilson.”

Great. Now I didn’t even merit a ‘Nigel’. My head gave another vicious throb.

“I’ll be frank,” she continued. “I have a department to run, expectations are high, and I don’t have the time or the energy to carry a member of staff who can’t even be punctual.”

She had an interesting accent. It wasn’t exotic, per se, but it was very easy to listen to. I think she might’ve been British. Yeah, that sounded about right. I could see her in a Hollywood film, playing the villain.

“I apologize, Ms… Anya.” It was difficult to use her last name when I didn’t know it. “The traffic this morning⁠—”

“—Wouldn’t have been an issue if you’d left in good time,” she said, cutting me off.

She turned, gave me a stern look, then crossed to take the large leather chair behind her desk.

The desk was a sheet of tempered, frosted glass with plenty of space for her monitor, keyboard, and to-go latte—with nothing to block the view of her long legs as she crossed one over the other, her skirt riding up to hint at her garters.

I swallowed.

“My eyes are up here, Mr. Wilson,” Anya said, her tone curt.

I started, glancing away before meeting her gaze. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Miles away.”

“Well, do try and focus while we discuss your … options.”

This was the worst possible day to have a hangover.

“I’m focusing,” I assured her. It was half-true.

She tapped her fingers on her desk as she regarded me. “Can I depend on you, Mr. Wilson? That is the question I’m asking myself.”

“You can,” I said quickly. I felt quite strongly about that for some reason. I wanted to be known as dependable.

Anya regarded me for a long moment before she spoke again. “And I want to know if I can trust you.”

“Absolutely,” I replied. Trust was another point I took very seriously.

“But trust you to do what?” she murmured, as if half to herself.

“Trust me to—” Have the company’s interests at heart, I was going to say, but I couldn’t bring myself to say those hollow words. “—keep those I love safe,” I finished instead, then blinked as I heard the words that had come out of my mouth.

“An admirable sentiment,” she said thoughtfully, then slowly uncrossed and re-crossed her legs.

I kept my eyes on her face with an effort.

“You love quite a few, don’t you?” she asked.

In that moment, I was struggling to think of anyone I really loved. Who was there, of value, in my life? I wasn’t sure what she was driving at—but then, it had been my choice of words.

“I think each of us is capable of loving a great deal,” I heard myself say. I wasn’t quite sure where these thoughts were coming from, but I didn’t disagree with them. In fact, I was wholly on board. They just weren’t … safe for work. But evidently, my brain didn’t agree, for I kept talking. “The more we love, the more love we have to share.”

“Is that so?” she asked, cocking her eyebrow at me as she had in the boardroom. She did have lovely eyebrows, delicate and gracefully arched.

I waited for more words to come by themselves, but as the silence lingered, it was evident they weren’t going to. “I believe it is,” I said at last, and realized I meant it.

“So we’ve established you’re a lover and a fighter,” she commented dryly.

“A fighter?” I gave a small laugh. “I don’t think I said⁠—”

“You said you’d keep those you loved safe.”

“Well, I⁠—”

“So a lover and a fighter,” she said firmly, and I didn’t try to interrupt again. Besides, I quite liked the sound of that. “The question on my mind, is would you keep others safe? Those, say, that you didn’t love?”

“Like who?” I asked cautiously. This conversation wasn’t going in the direction I had expected. Not least because the words ‘final paycheck’ were yet to be uttered.

“Those who want you to,” she replied, her clear blue eyes staring penetratingly at me.

“Want me to, or need me to?” I asked in reflex. It felt like an important distinction.

For a moment, she looked flustered, glancing away to the windows. A touch of color tinged her cheeks. Then she looked back at me, composed again. “Need, of course. I meant ‘need’.”

“Then yes,” I said, certain of my answer. “I would always try to protect those in need.”

She nodded, thoughtful. The silence lingered for a moment, and then she spoke again. “Would it matter to you what they had done?”

“No,” I said. “Not if they needed to be protected.”

“That’s an awkward distinction,” she murmured, again as if half to herself.

I winced as my head throbbed once more. It was making it very difficult to keep track of this conversation. I was sure it wasn’t the usual introductory talk to have with a new manager, but if it saved my career, it was probably worth it.

Part of me wondered if I even wanted to save my career.

“You know, I could keep you here,” she said to me. “Indefinitely.”

It was like she was reading my mind. “I know,” I said. “And I do appreciate your confidence in me. I do want this—” Job. But I didn’t. Not really. It made it surprisingly difficult to finish the sentence.

“Yes?” she asked.

“I want—” This job. But I couldn’t say the words. They were a lie.

“What do you want?”

I stared at her, trying to think of a response I could give that would save my career.

“Tell me,” she said, the words snapping out like the command they were.

“I have told you,” I said, suddenly feeling my anger rising.

“Tell me again.”

“I want those I love safe.” Nothing else mattered.

“And?”

“There is no ‘and’.”

“Power? To rule? To conquer?”

“Power, yes. As much as I can get. That is how I will keep those I love safe. To rule? To conquer? Fuck that. Not interested.”

The words hung in the air between us, and I blinked as I heard them. I’d said them, yes, but it was like I was only just hearing them.

They weren’t wrong, though. In fact, they were very right.

“Revenge?” she asked, her voice suddenly far softer.

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “If someone hurts those I love.”

“And if they hurt you?”

I hesitated. That didn’t seem so important.

Anya seemed to know. “I think we’re done here, Mr. Wilson.”

The abrupt conclusion took me by surprise. “Er … good?”

She gave me a smile. “I have decided, on balance, not to keep you.”

I blinked. “Er … Good,” I said again. That was good, right? She made it sound like it was a good thing.

“You may go,” she said, watching me.

I rose to leave, but my head was hurting so much that standing didn’t seem like a sensible idea after all. I took a step toward the door and stumbled. Reaching for the chair, I missed, my hand flailing awkwardly.

My hand fascinated me. It had missed the chair by inches—an embarrassingly poor effort—but I couldn’t look away from it.

I was still watching it as I fell. Watching it even as the carpet came up and hit me.

I watched it until my vision faded to grey.

Chapter Twenty-Four

A flickering light roused me. Orange, and dim. Not an electric bulb, but I wasn’t sure how I knew that.

The floor was hard and cold beneath me. Stone. No thin office carpets here.

I sat up slowly, my head throbbing. Damn hangover. I groaned.

“Welcome back.”

My eyes struggled to focus, but eventually, I made out Anya sitting hunched against the wall opposite me, her knees pulled up against her chest, one arm wrapped around them. A burning torch sputtered in her other hand. It was almost out.

We were in the rune room—or what should’ve been the rune room, but clearly wasn’t.

Morvak’s pyramid.

I winced as the memories hit me all at once. The alarm clock. The traffic. That damn presentation. Morvak.

Anya.

“You,” I said, my anger rising.

“Yes, me.” She spoke calmly, but her gaze cautious. Like she half expected me to leap across the gap between us, fingers clawing for her throat.

Part of me was tempted, I won’t lie.

“You’re Morvak.” There was no doubt of that now. I dared her to deny it.

She didn’t. Instead, she inclined her head. “Yes, I am.”

My anger simmered, tempered by the fact that she wasn’t hiding anymore. Not now, not this time.

I pushed myself up slowly, and sat against the wall on my side of this cubic room. We stared at each other for a long moment while my head throbbed again—though less painfully than it had.

“Why?” I said at last. It was the only question that mattered.

Anya gave a small shrug. “It’s a man’s world. Always has been. On Corthos? Even more so.” She gave a dry laugh. “Saromir more than Valorah, from what I hear.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, it is. What was I supposed to do? I woke up alone, on that altar, right up there.” She pointed vertically, her finger trembling slightly. “I’m just an artist, Nig—sorry. Kaelan.” She gave me a small, almost wistful smile. “Nigel doesn’t suit you, by the way.”

“You’re telling me,” I muttered.

She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I found out pretty quickly that I could do illusions. Paint the picture in my mind, then push it out. Make myself anything I wanted—including a new body.”

“Like a seven-foot horned demon,” I said.

She nodded. “It seemed to fit what the shamans expected.” She gave a short, dry laugh. “Better than I fit, at least.”

The torch gave a last flicker and died, plunging us into darkness.

“Damn,” she muttered, wearily. “That complicates things.”

Without thinking, I used my fire rune to generate a flame in the corner of the room.

Relief washed over me as it flared to life, bathing the space with warming light. For a moment, I’d worried my powers only extended to building mediocre presentations.

“That was quite the mindfuck.” My headache was definitely fading. I could hardly feel it now.

“Sorry,” Anya said, not sounding particularly sorry. “I … had to be sure.”

I waved it away. “I understand that part. It’s the rest I’m not clear on.”

She nodded as if she expected it. “Ask, and I’ll do my best to answer.”

I fixed her with a hard stare, my anger resurfacing. “Drakos,” I said bluntly. “Let’s start there.”

She winced. “Fair.” She leaned back against the wall, stretched out her long legs, and folded her hands in her lap. Her voice grew quieter. “It was early on. I’d made my way in there” —she nodded to the double doors leading to the control panel and the sphere, if her pyramid was anything like mine— “and, desperate to keep the shamans off my back, I told them about the pyramid in Norathil.” Her startling blue eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears. “I didn’t know they would send a … a … a fucking army!” Her voice cracked. “All those people. All of them. Dead.”

In that moment, she looked nothing like a god. She looked like a young woman—an artist torn from her home, the plaything of shamans who craved the power she didn’t.

“Where are you from?” I asked, softening my tone. “Originally, I mean.”

“England,” she said, dashing her eyes with her sleeve.

“I gathered,” I said dryly. “It took me a moment to place the accent, but then I hadn’t expected to run into a Brit in the middle of a basalt stronghold. More specifically?”

“Amersham,” she said. “It’s just outside of London, in the countryside. Very beautiful. Do you know it?”

“Can’t say I do.” I cocked my head. “Any idea why you were summoned?”

Anya gave a bitter laugh. “A question I’ve asked myself daily for the past eighteen months.”

Eighteen months. She’d been here almost a year more than me. Alone. Scared enough to hide behind the mask of a demon.

“Nothing special about me,” she added. “Not many friends, no family, not making much money. Just living day-to-day.”

“That sounds eerily familiar,” I admitted.

Her head tilted. “Really? You?”

It was my turn for the bitter laugh. “You saw what passed for my life. Neat trick, by the way. Dead-end job, shitty apartment, hardly any friends, and no family I’d admit to.”

“No one you loved enough to protect?”

“Bingo. But I was asking the questions.” It came out harsher than I intended.

She shrank back, muttering, “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just … you’re Morvak. The scourge of Saromir. Your name is whispered to threaten unruly children.”

“Don’t remind me,” she said bitterly. “I was just trying to survive, okay? I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“I understand,” I said, trying for a reassuring smile. “You wouldn’t believe what I arrived to when Lira summoned me.”

“Couldn’t be worse than power-hungry shamans controlling your every move,” she muttered.

“Try an enraged warlord whose sole purpose was to kill me.”

She stared at me. “How did you survive?”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Her brows shot up. “You really are immortal?”

“Sort of.” It was obvious she wasn’t. Or maybe she was, and she’d just never died. But I didn’t think so. We had different powers and different pyramids—she hadn’t needed to die to get to the core of hers. “When I die, I respawn.”

“Really? Like, anywhere?”

“Back in the temple, at first,” I said. “But Lira can make me new points.”

She nodded slowly. “Like the bed, and the altar up there.”

“Yeah.” I wondered if I was sharing too much. Then I remembered her questions in the ‘office’ and felt a twinge of sympathy.

“Do you think I’m immortal too?” she asked hesitantly.

“Maybe,” I said carefully. “But our powers seem different. There’s only one way to be sure, and it’s … extreme.”

She shuddered. “Yeah, I’ll pass.” She cocked her head to one side. “Does it hurt? Dying, I mean.”

“Let’s just say ‘yes’, and leave it at that.”

Anya nodded quickly. “Understood.”

“You don’t just have illusion magic, do you?”

She smiled, a flicker of pride surfacing. “No, I don’t. I did at first, but after a while, I learned I could … influence people. Not mind control, nothing overt. But I could … somehow tell when they were lying. And lean on them a bit, you know? Make them do what they wanted to anyway, but with a little push.”

“Like the guards. And Zarek.”

“Yes.” She glanced down, fidgeting with her hands. “It sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”

“A moment ago, you were smiling. I think you like it.”

“I do like it,” she admitted. A small crease formed between her brows. “It makes me feel safer. But I worry that liking it is even more terrible.”

“We do what we must to survive.”

“You’re immortal,” she said sharply, her tone edged with anger. “What do you know about having to survive?”

Okay, fine. We could play that game. “Well, in order … Drakos killing me about fifty times on day one, sometimes slowly, sometimes by chopping off pieces. Zombies chewed my face off. I was skewered by goblins. Lira fucked me to death. I drowned in sand—don’t recommend, by the way. Was pierced by⁠—”

Her eyes widened in horror as she listened, then she blinked. “Lira fucked you to death?”

I shrugged. “I like to mix in humor to save me from all the horror.”

“So she didn’t…?”

“Not yet.” I waggled my eyebrows.

Anya giggled. It was the first time I’d heard her laugh, and by her startled expression, it seemed like it had surprised her too. She gave me a shy smile.

“I haven’t laughed in so long,” she said softly. “Thank you for that, Kaelan.”

I slowly inclined my head. “I have a couple more questions, please.”

Her smile faded and her shoulders tensed, but she gestured for me to continue.

“All right. The big one. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why the trip down I’d-rather-forget-the-memories lane? Why this?” I waved at the room around us.

“Um. Well. My powers are strong in this room. Once I figured out what it did, I found I could hide here. From the shamans, but also from myself. It’s like my canvas. I can paint in my mind, escape for a while, go places, control it a little. So, when I knew you’d come here eventually, I figured I’d use it to … get to know you more.”

“You manipulated me,” I said evenly.

“Yes, I did.” No hint of remorse.

“Why?”

“I wanted to know who you were, and if I could trust you.”

“Why?” I pressed, although after her little interrogation, I suspected I already knew the answer.

She glanced away nervously, then back at me. “I wanted to know if I could ask for your help. If … if you might say yes, if I did.”

It was just like she’d done in the office—the flustered glance away, the determined stare back. Like when we’d talked about ‘wanting’ versus ‘needing’ protection.

“You want my protection. From the shamans.”

“Yes,” she admitted quietly. “If … if that’s okay.”

I studied her carefully. “Could you really have kept me in there, in my head, indefinitely?”

“Um … yes?”

“Until I wasted away here?”

“I guess?”

“You could have killed me.”

She nodded, her gaze fixed on her hands.

“You’ve been in the core.” I nodded to the doors.

“Yes.”

“Have you spoken to the Watchers?”

“Yes…”

“Then you know this is a contest?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you? Why didn’t you kill me?”

She chewed her lip, hesitant. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” she said at last. “Least of all you.”

I parked the second half of that comment for later. “You might have to kill before this is over.”

She did her look-away-and-back thing. “I know. I will, if I have to. If I have to survive, or … to protect those I love.”

“Is there someone you love?”

“Lira,” she said quickly. “She’s so …” She flapped a hand, searching for the words.

“Pure of heart?”

“Yes.” She nodded with a small, fond smile. “Exactly that.”

“You influenced Tarkon, didn’t you?” I asked, the pieces clicking into place. “To hurt you, instead of her?”

She froze for a moment, then nodded. “I … I didn’t want them hurting Lira.”

“You put yourself in their path, knowing they would hurt you, that they could even have killed you. And you did it to protect Lira.”

“I didn’t think they’d kill me,” she muttered.

“You did it to protect Lira,” I insisted.

“I didn’t want her to hurt, and … well … I’m sort of used to pain. These past eighteen months … having Lira around was worth every moment. I couldn’t bear her suffering.”

“Thank you,” I said firmly. “I’m in your debt for that.”

She glanced at me in surprise. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know, but I thank you anyway. Thank you for saving Lira from that.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, blushing as she looked back down at her hands.

“Next question. Why do you need my help?”

She didn’t try to meet my eyes, focused all the while on her hands in her lap. “I can’t put a case for ‘need’,” she said quietly. “I … I just hoped …”

“Let me rephrase,” I said gently. “With all the power you have, why haven’t you just … left?”

Anya gave a mocking laugh. “Oh yes. Just leave. What a brilliant idea that had never occurred to me.”

I winced. “All right. Clearly, there’s some reason you haven’t. Help me understand?”

“They bound me, Kaelan. The shamans didn’t just summon me, they’ve tied me to the pyramid. They tied me to them. They did this ritual thing, and for the longest time, I couldn’t do anything but obey every command they gave me. I was trapped in Morvak’s form, their puppet.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She shook her head like my apology wasn’t important. “It’s been fading over time, and I don’t know if they are aware. Maybe I could leave now, but I worry that if I tried to, they’d realize they’d lost control, and simply … do it again, and bring me back. Instead, I tried to play along, so they’d trust me more. But I think they’ve gotten suspicious, and now…” She trailed off, staring dismally down at her hands.

I made a decision, and it was an easy one. “I’ll help you.”

“You will?” Her head snapped up, her eyes full of hope. “Even though I sent Drakos? Even though he killed you … all those times … and it was my fault?”

“The shamans sent Drakos, Anya. You are not to blame for what others do in your name.”

“Then why?”

“Three reasons, really,” I said. “First, I was going to kill the shamans anyway. It’s the only way to restore the balance in Saromir, and end the threat to Valorah.”

“Of course that’s why,” she muttered.

“That was the first reason,” I reminded her.

“All right,” she said slowly. “Second?”

“Second, because you saved Lira from all that suffering.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them back. “Third?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Third, because I want to protect people who need it—and you most definitely qualify. But you missed a question when you were grilling me back in the office. It’s not just about those who need it, it’s also about those who deserve it. You need and deserve it.”

She gave a quite sob, her shoulders shaking. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“They’re stupidly powerful, you know. The Covenant, I mean. Their magic … the binding … the things I’ve seen them do …”

“Maybe they are, but I have an assassin with a wicked sense of humor, a paladin that’s near invincible, a High Priestess with a core of steel, and a few tricks of my own.” I smiled. “Oh, and the God of Illusions is on my side.”

She smiled at the name, then her smile faltered. “They’re going to do the ritual again, I know they are.”

“The one to bind you?”

Anya nodded. “Yes. I was there when Tarkon boasted to Lira about it. And this time it’ll be different. I don’t know how, but Tarkon said they’ll bind my mind, not just my body.” She shuddered. “They’ll find out I’m not who they think I am … they’ll know my secrets … they’ll make me do⁠—”

“Stop,” I said, raising a hand. “It’s not going to happen. They’ll be dead before that ritual is finished.”

She nodded jerkily, then swallowed. “It’ll be soon. I know they’re almost ready.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve seen what I wanted to see of Saromir. I’m almost done here. It’s a beautiful country, but it’s too cold.”

“You’re telling me,” she said. “I’ve been cold since the day I arrived. And I’m English—that’s saying something.”

“You’ll like Valorah,” I told her. “It’s warm there, most of the year.”

“I can come with you?”

I smiled. “If you’d like to.”

Anya nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”

She looked so vulnerable in that moment, a lonely girl pulled from her world, living in fear. She was only Senna’s age, and reminded me of the haunting looks Senna had given us when we’d first met her.

“I’m full of admiration for you, you know,” I said. I thought she needed to hear it.

She blinked in surprise. “You are?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “You’ve survived all this time, all alone. But not only that, you’ve completely hoodwinked the most powerful shamans in the whole of Saromir. Hell, probably the whole of Corthos.”

Her cheeks tinged with that hint of color. “Well … you know … illusion magic.”

“Can Morvak fight?”

“What?”

“The demon-thing. The big guy. Have you actually ever fought?”

“Oh. No.” She gave a shrug. “I built him to be so damn big and scary that he’d never have to fight. And it worked.”

“When you’re him, are you really five-foot-seven inside the illusion?”

“Five foot nine,” she muttered.

“Sorry.” I grinned.

“No. When I’m him, I’m really him.”

“Really?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Is he … you know … large everywhere?”

She gave me a look. “I respected his privacy,” she said pointedly.

“What about his sword? I mean … his real sword?”

“The red-and-black thing?”

“Yeah. Is it real?”

“All my illusions are real—in as much as you can touch them. But I got the idea from an anime comic, if that’s what you’re asking.” She gave me another tremulous smile.

I gave her a smile back. “Ready to get out of here?”

“I have a question, first. If … if that’s all right.”

“Sure, of course it is.”

“Why haven’t you killed me?” She didn’t hesitate, she just asked it flat out, and it caught me by surprise.

“Why would I have done?”

“The contest,” she said. “You can’t win without killing all the gods, can you?”

I shrugged. “I told you. I don’t want to conquer.”

“But you want power.”

I nodded. “Yes, but only to better protect those that I care for.”

“If you win the contest, you’ll be able to protect them forever.”

“True,” I conceded. “But we only need to defend ourselves from the gods that come for us. Those that don’t aren’t a threat, are they?”

“‘We’?” she echoed.

“We,” I said firmly. “Partners? Friends? Allies?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes, please. All those things.”

I pushed myself up and she rose too.

“Is your real name Anya?”

“Yes. And don’t worry, I’ll never tell anyone you’re Nigel.”

“If you do, the deal is off,” I muttered.

She gave me a big smile. “Fair.”

I conjured the flame to my hand, and we walked out together.

“Maybe the other gods are like us,” she mused as we climbed the stairs.

“How so?”

“Lost, alone, pulled from lives they weren’t happy in.”

“Well, like I said, if they don’t come looking for us, I won’t go looking for them,” I clenched my jaw. “If they do—if they threaten those I love⁠—”

“—You’ll kill them.”

“Damn right,” I growled.

“I’m okay with that,” Anya said, and slid her hand into mine as we walked.

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was dark as we left the pyramid, but that was typical with these short winter days, and gave no hints as to the time.

I checked the clock in the world system: shortly after one in the morning.

At least that meant the streets would be empty.

“How long were we in there for?” I asked, and my stomach rumbled in answer.

“About a day,” Anya replied.

It was morning when I’d gone in, and I felt like I’d only spent a few hours in my memories. But clearly it had been longer.

“Food, then sleep,” I said, and she murmured her agreement.

We passed by the altar, and I ran my fingers over it out of habit. It was smooth and cold.

Then I stopped as a thought occurred, and turned to her.

“How did you find the secret passage into the pyramid?”

“You mean the button?”

“Yes.”

“It catches the light at a certain time of day. It drew my eye.”

I stared at her.

“What?” she asked. Then she shrugged. “I’m an artist. I notice things like that. Why? How did you find yours?”

“Er … by searching,” I muttered, loathe to admit it had taken weeks to carve out a hole in the side of my pyramid.

We held hands as we walked down the steps of the pyramid, and I convinced myself that this was because it was dark, the steps icy, and I didn’t want her to slip and fall. But her hand was small and warm in mine, and she showed no desire to let go.

It had snowed again, a light dusting that covered the ice on the cobbles, making them treacherous. Yet it also reflected what little light there was, helping us find our way. Or Anya, at least—I could see fine with my night vision. She shivered beside me, despite the cloak over her kirtle, and smiled at me gratefully when I slid my arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

“I hate the cold,” she muttered. “Last winter was unbearable.”

“Does it get worse than this?” I asked.

“Much worse. We haven’t even had any snowstorms yet, and they’re horrible.” She grimaced. “Maybe we have them still to look forward to.”

“With any luck, we’ll be on our way back to Valorah by then.”

“I hope so,” she said with feeling.

There might’ve been nobody around, but I still moved silently, keeping my eyes peeled.

“You make no noise,” Anya said. “It’s almost eerie.”

“High stealth skill,” I muttered. And my Silent Feet ability.

She was looking at me strangely. “That was a joke, right? Only, it didn’t sound like one.”

“No joke,” I said. “Some of my skills have ranked up pretty well.”

Her puzzlement, if anything, deepened. “You have skills?”

“Er … everyone does. Why? Can’t you see yours?”

“No, I can’t see mine,” she replied as though it was an odd question to ask.

I focused on her. Show information Anya.

Huh. Must be a god thing.

“Just as an experiment, focus internally on yourself, think about a character sheet, and think ‘show my information’.”

“Really?” She sounded skeptical, like I was playing a prank.

“Give it a go.”

She shrugged and her expression took on a distant look. Then she focused back on me. “If something was supposed to happen, it didn’t.”

“Strange,” I said. “It works for me.”

“Different powers?” she asked.

“Must be.”

It wasn’t a long walk back to the Brown Buck, and we’d almost covered it in the time we’d been talking. Yet from down the next street, I heard footsteps approaching, and saw the flicker of a torch. It sounded like two people in a rush. I shoved Anya back against the nearest wall, deeper into the shadows, and she grunted as she banged into it.

“Sorry,” I muttered, pressing myself in next to her.

It was probably nothing, but I was keen to avoid anyone out at this hour.

Yet as the nighttime wanderers rounded the corner, I recognized them instantly.

“Girls?” I stepped out of the shadows.

Elara’s sword was half out of her scabbard in reflex before she realized it was me, and shoved it back in with a sigh of relief. She held a torch in her other hand.

“Kaelan!” Lira pushed past Elara and into my arms. “We came to find you,” she said as she hugged me. Then she looked past me. “Anya?”

“She was with me,” I said, not explaining. “Why are you out here?”

“We think they arrested Arik this evening,” Elara said grimly. “They came for us too, not ten minutes ago.”

“We decided we were better off coming to find you at the pyramid.” Senna added.

“Did they see you?” I asked.

They shared a quick glance. “Oh yes,” Senna answered me dryly. “They most definitely saw us.”

“We didn’t kill them, Kaelan,” Elara assured me quickly. “Like Arik asked us not to.”

“How did you get away?”

“We knocked them unconscious,” my paladin said. “But there may be more coming, and we shouldn’t stay in this area.”

I took Anya’s hand in my right and Lira’s in my left, and headed back the way we’d come.

“We can’t return to the pyramid,” I muttered. “If they suspect, they may well look there.”

“We need somewhere to spend the night,” Lira said. “It’s too cold to be out.”

Anya squeezed my hand. “There’s another tavern, not too far. We can go there.”

“They’ll all be full.”

“I know the owner. I can get us in.” She gave me a meaningful look.

I nodded. “All right. It’s worth a try.”

We slipped quietly down the winding, narrow side streets to Anya’s directions, the Brown Buck falling behind. The only light was from Elara’s flickering torch, but it was more than enough for Senna and me to see clearly. I helped guide Lira and Anya. We were moving west, toward the edge of the city, and there was no one else around.

“Did you see Arik?” I asked the girls.

“No,” Elara replied. “He didn’t come back tonight. Then the guards turned up, not long ago.”

“How many were there?”

“A dozen.”

I glanced at her. “You laid out a dozen guards?”

“Only five. Senna took care of the rest of them.”

I meant the ‘you’ in the collective, but I gave my assassin a grin. “How did you avoid killing them all?”

“Remember the fight against Scyre?” she answered.

“Of course.” She’d used her Pressure Point ability to kill him, striking a blow just behind his ear.

“Same thing, only I didn’t hit quite so hard.”

“She moved almost as fast as you do, Kaelan,” Lira said. “Scooting between them, and they dropped behind her. It was all over in seconds.”

“I don’t ‘scoot’,” Senna muttered.

“Scampered,” Lira said with a grin.

“I don’t ‘scamper’, either.”

“Glided,” Elara suggested, more charitably.

“She darted through them.” Lira flashed Senna a mischievous smile over her shoulder.

“I get the picture,” I said. Then I gave a chuckle.

“What?” Senna asked.

“Only tonight, I was telling Anya how competent you all are. And now you’ve walked away from a dozen guards intent on arresting you, and you didn’t even kill any of them.” I wasn’t sure I’d have been so noble.

Lira glanced past me at Anya. “Why were you both in the pyramid?”

Anya looked down, squeezing my hand tighter. Of all the people to be asking such a question, I knew she didn’t want it to have come from Lira. But my High Priestess hadn’t implied anything; there was no suspicion, no suggestion of anything amiss. True to her nature, she’d simply asked—without judgment.

It didn’t make the question any easier to answer. I hadn’t yet asked Anya if I could share her secret, and it wasn’t mine to tell.

“She was waiting for me when I came out,” I said, stretching the truth a little.

“Oh, of course.” Lira accepted it easily, and gave Anya a smile. “We wondered where you’d gone.”

Anya kept her eyes lowered, her awkward body language reflecting her guilt and discomfort.

“Is it far to the tavern?” I asked to distract her.

“No,” she said quietly. “Two more streets.”

It was a smaller tavern than the Brown Buck, the sign depicting a sleeping man with a ball of yarn in one hand, and a tankard of beer in the other. The name above was The Lazy Tailor, and I liked it already.

Anya tried the door, but it was barred from within.

“I hope they’re feeling friendly,” I muttered, and hammered on it.

It took three tries before we heard footsteps within, and then the sounds of the bar being lifted.

The door opened only a few inches, enough to glimpse a man wearing a nightshirt and a scowl, a lantern in his hand. His eyes flicked over us, pausing on Anya.

“Anya?”

“I’m sorry to wake you, Dirk. May we come in?”

He looked ready to refuse, then his eyes seemed to unfocus, and he stepped back and opened the door without a word.

We walked in to find a common room, the embers of last night’s fire glowing in the hearth. Lira crossed to it immediately, warming herself with what residual heat remained.

Dirk closed the door behind us, replaced the bar, then turned. “It is very late,” he said resentfully.

“I’m sorry, Dirk,” Anya said again. “My friends and I need a room. Just for tonight.”

He shook his head. “Impossible, Anya. I—” Again his eyes stared at a point past us. “Well … I cannot leave you outside, can I? I will see what I can do, but it will not be easy.”

“Thank you.” Anya gave him a smile and his posture straightened in response, his head coming up. The effect was lost somewhat with the frilly nature of his nightshirt and cap, but to be fair, if I’d been on the receiving end of one of Anya’s smiles, I’d be trying my best too.

“Make yourselves comfortable while I see to it,” he muttered, and walked off through the door that presumably led to the rooms.

“He’s a good man,” Anya said after he’d gone. “I’ve stayed here from time to time, when I wanted to— When I wanted some time alone.” To hide, I knew she was going to say. I gave her an encouraging smile.

She returned it with a shy one of her own, and went to stand near the fire, next to Lira.

I crossed to Elara. “So, Arik?”

“He went out this afternoon. Said he had someone he wanted to talk to. That was the last we saw of him. Then the guards turned up.”

“They would’ve found Tarkon and Raloth,” I said, thinking. “It wouldn’t have taken much to determine the fang had turned up.” I sighed. “He should’ve stayed in our rooms.”

“I’m curious how they knew we were in the Buck,” Elara murmured quietly. “Would Arik have betrayed us?”

I shook my head. “I find that hard to believe. Much more likely that the shamans have some ability to read minds.” But that meant they could’ve used it on Anya—Morvak—unless her god status made her naturally resistant? Maybe that’s the reason for this new ritual—they’d tried and failed, and were going for something stronger.

Elara arched her eyebrows. “If that’s the case, they’ll know you’re here, too.”

I shrugged. “They’ll know soon enough anyway.”

We were interrupted as Dirk returned. “Well, I have done the best I can,” he grumbled. “If you would like to follow me.”

We let Anya lead, then followed along behind. Dirk led us to a small room on the first floor that showed signs of recent occupancy. He’d turfed someone out to make it available for us, likely getting them to share with another guest. That can’t have been an easy conversation at this hour of the night.

“It will be a tight squeeze, I am afraid, but it is the best I can do.”

There was a small single bed tucked against the wall, a chamber pot beneath. But there was enough floor space on which to sleep, and the hearth had a fire burning within. He’d added another log, and the room was warm.

“This will be fine,” I said, remembering at the last moment not to thank him.

“Then I will leave you to it.” Dirk nodded to Anya and left, closing the door behind him.

Anya chewed her lip, looking around the small room. “Sorry, Kaelan,” she said.

“Not at all. You take the bed; the girls and I will be fine on the floor.”

“No,” she said. “You take the bed. It could manage two at least…” She grimaced at the bed. It was small for one, and would be impossible for two—little more than a basic cot, the mattress likely stuffed with straw.

On balance, I preferred the floor.

“We’ll be fine,” I repeated. “We’re used to sleeping rough and cuddling up. We have our cloaks, and there’s a fur rug.” Thin and threadbare, but it was one night, and we were all tired enough to not care.

“Well … all right.” She pulled her cloak off, then lay down on the bed and draped it back over her like a blanket. The bed looked uncomfortably small, even just for her.

The rest of us stretched out on the floor: Lira on one side of me, Senna on the other, Elara closest to the fire. It wasn’t luxurious, but with some of our cloaks bundled up as pillows and the others spread over us, it was comfortable enough, made more so by the warmth of each other’s bodies and the heat of the fire.

Within moments, everyone was asleep, their gentle breathing a relaxing melody. But I lay awake, wondering what had happened to Arik. Was he in the dungeon beneath the enclave, sharing the cells with his wives? Would his rank grant him protection, or would the shamans punish him?

“What is it?” Lira murmured next to me, her lips by my ear.

I turned my head to see her, whispering back. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not quite. Thinking about the upcoming invasion.”

We had to deal with that too, but it would be easier with the shamans out of the way. “One step at a time,” I said softly. “The shamans first. There’s still two or three weeks of winter. Time enough before they march.”

“I’m not so sure anymore.” Lira spoke softly, mindful of the others sleeping.

“What do you mean?”

“The army outside the walls. I know its grown since I saw it. Why come so soon, if they don’t intend to march before spring arrives?”

I was silent, considering the truth of her words. “You think they intend to leave soon?”

“I think they intend to leave in a day or two,” she said. “That way, they’ll hit Lakeside as spring arrives.”

“The binding ritual,” I said. “They must be ready.”

“We’re out of time, my love.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I murmured to her. “In fact, it’s better this way. I’ll deal with the shamans during the ritual.”

She pulled back a little, all the better to glare at me. “You’ll deal with them? What about ‘stronger together’?”

“Not this time, my wife, my High Priestess,” I said, sliding my hand around her slim waist and pulling her against me. “I don’t want you girls anywhere near them, but you’re more than capable of executing a prison break.”

Her expression was mollified at my endearments, but then her attention piqued. “A prison break?”

“Get Arik out, along with his wives. It should be child’s play after Drakos’ mages.”

“But meanwhile, you’ll be fighting the shamans. What if something goes wrong?”

“If we could somehow draw the shamans to the pyramid…” I trailed off, grinning to myself at the thought.

“The respawn point!” Her face fell. “I hate it when you die, even though I know you always come back.”

“I have no intentions of dying,” I assured her, “but if I do, they won’t be ready for me to be right back into it again.” I bared my teeth. “Almost worth it just to see their expressions.”

Lira gave a small laugh, quickly covering her mouth to muffle the sound. “Your humor has grown darker, my God.”

“Not really,” I said. “It’s tough to take death seriously when I’m immortal.”

“But what of Morvak?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “Won’t he—” She stopped as she saw my expression. “You know something, don’t you? What is it?”

“Before I answer that—and I will,” I’d already decided that the girls had to know, and it made sense to tell Lira first, “do you know how much Anya cares for you?”

“We’ve grown close.”

“She loves you, Lira.” I grinned at her. “I think she likes girls. She certainly likes you.”

“Maybe,” Lira replied, “but she likes men too.”

I raised an eyebrow, which was harder to pull off while lying on my side. “Why so sure?”

“Girl things.” She perfectly imitated the same airy tone I sometimes used for ‘God things’.

“What did I warn you would happen if you imitated your god?”

“Spanking.” Her lips twitched in a smile, and for a moment, we were both taken back to a cottage in a peaceful sun-filled valley. “But in the hours she and I spent together, some of it was talking about you—and Senna and Elara. Didn’t you see the way she kept blushing around you?”

“What did you tell her?” I asked, adding this piece of information to the interactions Anya and I had already had.

“Girl things,” Lira said again, grinning openly.

I glanced up at the bed where Anya lay, her head resting on her elbow, her eyes closed.

“Morvak won’t be a problem,” I said quietly.

“What? How?”

“Because I’m looking at him.”

Lira spun around so fast she thwapped Anya’s bed, making her jerk in her sleep. The room was too small for such movements.

She turned back to me, her eyes glaring. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Sorry,” I said, trying to hide my smile. “But I was serious.”

“What do you mean, Kaelan? And if you dare answer me with ‘God things’ I’m going to … I’m going to…” She settled for a glare, unable to find a threat dire enough.

“‘God things’ is more fitting than you could’ve realized,” I said, then hurried on quickly as her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Anya is Morvak. Morvak is Anya.”

Her eyes went from narrow to wide in an instant. “No! What? Really?”

“This is why we were in the pyramid together. Anya is the God of Illusions.”

Lira gasped, loudly enough to wake the others, but they hardly stirred. “That … She … You’re sure?”

“Quite sure,” I said, smiling.

She settled back in against me, relaxing slowly. “Then we only have the shamans and the army to worry about.”

“If the shamans are gone, do you think the army will still march?”

“I hope not, but having seen them gathered … I’m not as sure as I was. Let me think on it.” She was quiet for several moments. “The God of Illusions, eh? Maybe we can use that.”

“She’s had a tough time of it. It’s thanks to you, being you, that she’s now on our side.” I was watching Anya sleep as I said it. My new friend, ally and partner—I wondered what she was capable of.

“That’s good,” Lira murmured sleepily. “She’s a lovely girl.”

I stroked Lira’s hair as she drifted off, pondering what tomorrow would bring.

Anya’s eyes flicked open, and she saw me watching her. For a moment, we held each other’s gaze, then she closed her eyes again.

So. Not quite as asleep as I’d thought. How much had she heard?

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Kaelan?” Anya grabbed the sleeve of my shirt. “A word, please?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Go ahead,” I said to the others. “We’ll be down for breakfast in a moment.”

Lira glanced between us thoughtfully while Senna and Elara filed out, then she gave a smile and followed them, leaving us alone in the small room.

A moment of awkward silence descended.

“Sleep well?” I asked, in an effort to fill it.

“Well enough,” she said, “when I eventually fell asleep.”

It was confirmation she’d heard my conversation with Lira, and I hid a wince. Had we said anything that could be embarrassing? I didn’t think so, but Anya and I hadn’t exactly discussed me sharing her secret.

“Actually, that’s not quite true,” she said, offering me a shy smile. “Despite the bed, I slept better than I have in a very long time, because … well … I felt safe.”

“Good,” I said with feeling. “You are safe now.”

“Mmm. Well. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

In lieu of a chair, I got comfortable leaning against the wall, and gestured for her to go ahead.

She took a deep breath, looking down at the floor, her hands clasped before her. “I’m going to go back,” she said in a rush.

“Go back? What do you mean?”

“Back to the pyramid.” The knuckles of her hands turned white. “Back to the shamans.”

“What?” I frowned. “Why?”

“I heard you and Lira talking last night,” she said softly. “It seems to me that we need to get your friend Arik out of the enclave, and you need to fight the shamans near the pyramid.”

“Both true,” I said slowly, “but I don’t see how you going back changes that.”

She lifted her gaze to meet mine. “They’ll have noticed I’m not there.”

“Well, yes, I suppose.”

“And they’ll have connected it with the shamans dying.”

“Possibly,” I said, frowning.

“And with your friend being taken captive, they’ll know you’re here.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well … if I don’t go back, they’ll know I’m working with you.”

“Why?”

She unclasped her hands to gesture in irritation. “Think about it. It’s obvious, isn’t it? You turn up, shit hits the fan, and ‘Morvak’ disappears. They’re already suspicious of Morvak—why else are they seeking more control of him? The timing looks bad, to put it mildly.”

I nodded slowly, conceding her points. “I still don’t see why you need to go back. You’re safe here, out of the way.”

“We don’t know if keeping me out of the way will make any difference to the ritual they intend to perform. Maybe I could be on the other side of the world, and it would still affect me. They take control, and the next thing I know I’m walking through the streets as Morvak, unable to act or think for myself.”

“We don’t know that.”

“You’re right, we don’t. We also don’t know I’m not right.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Still, you’re⁠—”

“You need to get into the enclave, don’t you?”

“The girls could handle that,” I said slowly. “I’d intended to be near the pyramid.”

“What if the shamans aren’t at the pyramid? What if they’re at the enclave? Or what if they’re not—what if, while you’re fighting them, a guard gets a lucky hit on Lira? Or Senna?”

I winced.

“What if,” she continued, “four of the Covenant come to the pyramid, and one stays in the enclave? Can your girls fight someone so powerful?”

I pushed myself off the wall, pacing through the small room, and spinning on my heel when I reached the far side. “All right. I admit I don’t like those scenarios. I also don’t like you going back.”

“It’s a risk, but it’s only a small one,” she said quietly, then dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed. “Say I turn up as Morvak, in the pyramid, with a big neon sign saying, ‘come and get me’.” She waved a hand. “The shamans come—whether all of them or not—and you and the girls are watching the enclave. You burst in, kill any shamans that are left behind, get Arik out, along with his … wives.” She glanced at me. “Does every man here have multiple women?”

“Er …” I blinked at the sudden change of subject. “I don’t think so.”

“Hmmpf,” she said, or something that sounded like it. “Well anyway. If you’re with the girls, you can keep them safe, can’t you?”

“Yes,” I acknowledged carefully. “But then I can’t be keeping you safe, and I can’t be in two places at once.”

“If you’re looking after me, you’re not looking after them.”

“True.”

She lifted her chin, meeting my gaze, her jaw tight with determination. “I don’t need looking after, do I?”

That was a different note to ‘please help me’.

“They’re going to bind you, Anya.”

“Exactly,” she said firmly. “It’ll take them a while to do their damn ritual, won’t it? And that’ll buy you time to tear that enclave apart.”

“And then they’ll control you.”

“What if they do? What if they’re finished before you get back? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make any difference.” Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, showing just how much it did matter. But she plowed on. “The point is, they’ll be where you need them to be. Whether you turn up before they finish or after, ultimately it doesn’t make any difference. You’ll kill them all, either way, and I’ll be free.”

“And if you’re not?” I asked quietly. “If killing them still leaves you bound, somehow, and no longer you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know much about magic, but that doesn’t seem likely.”

“‘Doesn’t seem likely’ isn’t a convincing argument when you’re betting your life.”

“My life, and a low risk, against the lives of Lira and Senna? And do you even know for sure that Elara is invincible, especially against the power of the Covenant?” She waved a hand again, this time in frustration. “Chances are, you’re back before they’ve finished. No danger. Even if you’re not, you kill them, it ends the effect—no danger. Meanwhile, you’ve not only got a clear run at the enclave, you’ve got the Covenant where you want them—right next to the pyramid.”

She fixed me with her gaze, her startling blue eyes both beautiful and penetrating. “You want to fight them there in case they kill you, don’t you?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Just a precaution.”

“Well, if you’re risking your life, and the girls are risking theirs, I get to risk mine.” She finished with a determined nod, as if there was nothing left to debate.

It was actually pretty cute.

“All right,” I said, trying to hide my amusement. “Say I agree. How are you going to make sure the shamans come to you?”

“I’ve got a plan for that. Something they won’t be able to resist.”

“Do I want to know?”

She smiled wryly. “I’m going to take a god’s name in vain. Yours, specifically.”

“Do what you want with it,” I muttered. “I’m hardly one to object.”

She cocked a delicate eyebrow. “Meaning?”

I prodded my thumb into my own chest, Saromiran style. “Atheist. Yeah, I get the irony—I’m a god, and I don’t believe in gods.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said. Then we both stared at each other.

“Coincidence,” I said, after a moment.

“Yeah,” she agreed, not sounding so sure. “Must be.”

I cleared my throat. “I think you’re downplaying the danger you’re putting yourself into.”

“I want to do this, Kaelan,” she said firmly. “For you, for Lira, the girls, for Valorah, to stop the Covenant—hell, I want to do this for me.”

“Why?”

“Payback.” Her jaw was clenched. “I’m done with hiding. I’m angry. Hell, I’ve been angry for months. And now, finally, I get to do something about it—for what is hopefully the right reason.”

I sighed. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Kaelan, I⁠—”

I held up my hand, and she quieted. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I can’t think of a better one. If this is what you want to do, then … I won’t take it away from you. And I’ll do my damndest to get back to the pyramid as fast as possible.”

“After you’ve rescued Arik and his wives.”

“Yeah. Once we’re done in the enclave, next stop: rescuing Morvak.” I chuckled at how strange that sounded.

“I’m doing this for Arik and his wives, too,” Anya added grimly. “I can’t believe those bastards would separate a man from his wives like that, then hold them as hostages.”

“With you there, one hundred percent,” I growled. I knew just how it felt.

Anya nodded, staring down at the floor as, for a moment, we were both lost in our own thoughts.

“Well, I’ll be going then,” she said quietly.

That felt abrupt. “Breakfast first, at least?”

She shook her head. “Not hungry. Best if I just slip out.”

My concern for her safety was growing, despite how blasé she’d been about the risks. “They might be looking for you too, knowing you were Lira’s maid.”

Anya pushed herself up from the bed, and as she did, her figure changed. Gone was the slim, tall girl with startling blue eyes and long dark hair, and in her place was an old woman. She was a tiny thing, little more than half Anya’s height. Her back stooped, her face wrinkled with age, yet she had laughter lines around her eyes, and her gaze reflected her years of wisdom. Even her clothing had changed; this old woman had a grey shawl around her shoulders, the tassels frayed from much use, and leaned on a walking stick that was as gnarly as she was.

“Wow,” I said, in open admiration.

“Do you like it?” Anya asked, her voice raspy and feeble.

The question seemed oddly phrased. I waved my hand at her, indicating her new disguise. “This woman means something to you.”

“Yes,” she said. “Back home—on Earth—she was a local whose portrait I once painted. I liked her face.”

“She has a kind face,” I agreed. Then the penny dropped. “You followed us like this from the square, didn’t you? That first night?” I remembered Senna speaking of an old woman.

“That’s right, young man,” Anya said, her voice croaky and carrying a hint of a chuckle.

I grinned. “It’s very impressive. One question: how did you recognize me in the crowd?” I was no longer in any doubt she’d seen me. She must have, to have left and followed us.

“It wasn’t you I recognized.”

My grin faded, replaced with a frown. “Then⁠—”

“During our time together, Lira described you in detail, but she also told me you travelled with your women. Few women walk so confidently through Krennar as the ones in your party.” She gave a delighted cackle at my surprise. “Such a handsome young man to draw such pretty women.”

“I’m older than you are, and don’t you forget it.” But I didn’t miss she’d called me handsome.

She banged her stick on the ground. “Threaten all you want. These bones have seen too much to be scared by the likes of you.” It was exactly the response her character called for.

I gave her a playful bow. “I am in admiration of your skill, God of Illusions.” Then I straightened and sobered. “Do what you have to do, but stay safe today. I will come for you as soon as I can.”

“I wish you good hunting, my young lord.” She crossed the room to the door, her stick banging with every step, then paused with the door held open. “Keep your ladies safe, too.”

“I will,” I said, and watched her leave, shaking my head in awe. It was an awesome god-level power.

The girls were halfway through their breakfast when I found them.

“We ordered you bread and bacon,” Lira said, gesturing to a lidded ceramic pot that was keeping the food warm. She looked past me with a frown. “Where’s Anya?”

“Gone on ahead,” I said, as I slapped thick pieces of bacon between two hunks of bread. “We have little time. Are you ready to move?”

The girls rose quickly, leaving the remainder of their breakfast behind. Senna dropped some of our Valoran gold on the table, but we’d be long gone by the time the proprietor noticed the currency. At least we were paying.

“What’s the plan?” Senna asked as we walked back out onto the street.

“Anya is going to create a diversion. We’re going to get Arik and his wives out,” I answered flatly. I was having second thoughts about this plan. Why had I agreed to let her put herself in jeopardy?

I hadn’t let her. She’d insisted.

“What kind of diversion?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” I muttered. She hadn’t been specific, but something told me we’d know it when it happened.

It was barely past dawn, the sun yet to penetrate the flat, overcast skies. The gray basalt streets were gloomy and murky, and there was frost everywhere. The overnight snow had frozen, brittle and crunchy beneath our boots.

It didn’t take long to walk back to the vicinity of the enclave—Krennar just wasn’t that big. We tucked ourselves away in one of the winding side streets that allowed us to sneak peeks at the gate, and the guards that waited outside it, wrapped up tight in their cloaks.

“If we have to kill today, we kill,” I told the girls. “We don’t take risks.”

“Yes, Kaelan,” Lira acknowledged. Elara nodded. Senna showed no reaction, other than to check all four of her daggers, one after the other. She had a serene expression, like she was anticipating going out for a night with some friends. Lira’s face reflected her worry, and Elara was grim and serious.

Each of their personalities coming through.

Now all we had to do was wait for Anya, but waiting was the hardest part; it gave me time to worry.

With her usual perception, Lira slipped her warm hand into mine. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

I shook my head. “I’ve let her place herself as bait. I never should’ve agreed.”

“She’s been managing just fine by herself all this time. She knows what she’s doing.”

“Yeah … I suppose. This just feels different, somehow. She’s going to pull the tail of the tiger, and what does she have to defend herself? It’s all illusions.”

I was conscious of Elara and Senna staring at me, realization slowly dawning. I hadn’t got around to telling them.

“Morvak’s not real?” Senna blurted out.

“Well … he is and he isn’t,” I said. “Anya’s illusions are real, but they’re still illusions.”

I wondered how tough Morvak was, whether she could manifest him with super strength and an impregnable hide. Dammit, I should’ve suggested it before she left.

“She knows what she’s doing,” Lira repeated. “Now we have to⁠—”

“Kaelan!”

The shout cut through our conversation like a crash of thunder. Hell, it was so loud, it echoed through the city.

Anya had used her powers to magnify her voice, and Morvak’s yell couldn’t be missed by anyone—the shamans included.

“Kaelan!” The shout came again, reverberating through Krennar. The ground felt like it was trembling. “God of Valorah! Come to me, Kaelan!”

“I take it that’s a diversion and not a cry for help?” Elara said calmly as the echo rumbled through the air.

“I think⁠—”

“Kaelan! Join me, and we will conquer Corthos!”

“She said ‘conquer’,” I answered Elara. “Definitely not a cry for help.”

“Why does ‘conquer’—” Elara broke off in exasperation as Anya’s next shout made conversation impossible.

“Kaelan! Come to me! Together, we will rule this world!”

“Well, that’s one way to piss the shamans off,” I muttered.

“Isn’t that what they want?” Senna said, frowning.

I chuckled, keeping my eyes on the enclave gate. “Oh yes, it is. But they want it with them in control. Not some upstart gods with delusions of grandeur, one of whom they summoned themselves. She just stole their toys.”

Barely had the words left my lips when the enclave gates opened, and a troop of horses left at a steady trot. A platoon of guards was up front, then the Covenant followed—the five middle-aged, portly shamans I’d seen on the stage, wearing their furs, their staves in hand. All of them wore grim, angry expressions. I pulled back out of sight before they had a chance to notice me.

“They’re coming out,” I muttered.

“We will rule Saromir!” Anya added a parting shot, her shouts roaring and tumbling through the streets, the echoes blurring together. “We will rule Valorah!”

“Do you think anyone is sleeping through this?” Senna asked dryly as the rumble slowly died away.

“Be ready,” I said, as the Covenant and their guards made their way down the street with a clatter of hooves. “We’ll try to bluff our way past the guards again, but it probably won’t work.”

I gave the shamans and their escorts another half-minute, then led the girls out into the street.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The guards saw us straightaway.

Two of them were pulling the gate closed, but the other four fanned out in a line to meet us as we walked up.

Perhaps they thought I was just one man, and discounted the girls. That was the problem with a misogynistic, patriarchal society—they couldn’t see the threat.

That helped.

We kept walking, closing the gap. The guards rested their hands on the hilts of their swords.

“He’s the warrior who came in with the fang!” One of the guards suddenly recognized me. “Grab him, before he gets away!”

I stared at him in bewilderment as we continued to approach. Before I ran away? Could they not see our intention was the opposite? It was almost funny.

But the guards still didn’t recognize the threat, and not only that, but all of them drew their swords and ran toward us, slipping and sliding on the icy cobbles.

Wisely, the girls waited to draw their weapons, but Senna’s hands slipped innocuously into the slits at the sides of her kirtle, and I knew her fingers had wrapped around her daggers.

Elara and Senna spread out either side of me to meet them, each of them instinctively seeking their own space. Lira hung back; all her spells were lethal, but I trusted her competence with the shaman’s staff, even as a bludgeoning weapon. We wanted to avoid killing for as long as possible; the Saromirans weren’t truly our enemies.

The four closest guards closed the gap quickly, focused on me. Their swords were held ready, but I hadn’t drawn my own blades yet, and they slowed as they neared. The center two edged forward to grab me, and in that moment, the girls struck.

Senna pulled her daggers, simply stepping between the two guards on her side, striking out with both hands. Just like she had in the fight against Scyre, she crunched the pommels of her daggers into the sides of their necks, and both guards dropped like they’d been poleaxed.

At the same time, Elara had moved to meet her pair. Her approach simpler but more brutal; she grabbed both guards around the head and smacked them together like a pair of coconuts. There was a crack that made me wince, and both guards were knocked out cold.

The last two had been following close behind and skidded to a halt, eyes wide. Their swords came up, and one took a breath to shout.

Senna threw a dagger, and it spun through the air. I watched it with a fleeting sense of sadness, but I supposed some fatalities were necessary—I’d told the girls as much. Yet when it struck, it was pommel-first, right into the center of the guard’s forehead. He fell backwards, landing with a sickening thunk as his head struck the ground. My lethal assassin spun past the last guard, the icy ground not seeming to hamper her remarkable agility, and a blow to the back of his head ended the fight.

“That was fun,” she said, as she retrieved the dagger she’d thrown.

I laughed in amazement, shaking my head. Six guards, six seconds—and they were all out cold. They’d wake up with headaches I didn’t envy—if the damage we’d done didn’t result in brain bleeds and death. But the girls had weighted their blows with care, and I figured they had a good chance of making it.

Besides, if the choice was a Saromiran warrior being killed or my girls being injured, I was indifferent to the former. They knew the risks.

Elara stepped forward to open the gate, and I led my companions into the courtyard. Two different guards were on duty outside the main door, and their weapons were already drawn. They’d heard the shouts and ruckus.

“Mine,” Senna called gaily, but Elara wasn’t to be left behind. There was a very brief tussle, a couple of eye-watering crunches, and two more bodies on the floor.

“Don’t be greedy,” Elara admonished. Senna just gave her a grin, clearly enjoying herself.

“Let’s take it seriously now,” I said. “There’s still a barracks full of guards in here, and we can’t afford any risks to Arik or his wives.”

Elara nodded, though Senna’s self-satisfied smirk didn’t slip. I wasn’t convinced my assassin could take things seriously, but I trusted her competence.

We pulled the door open, finding the foyer empty again. But Zarek emerged from his side room while Lira was closing the door behind us.

“Good to see you again,” he said to me politely, a frown forming as he noticed the naked blades in Senna’s hands. Elara was yet to draw her sword.

“Likewise, Zarek,” I said lightly. “But we are a little short of time. Would you kindly tell us where the dungeon is, and while you’re at it, the barracks?”

He bowed slightly. “I regret that I am not at liberty to disclose such info—” His mouth closed with a snap as the edge of Senna’s dagger pressed against his throat. But I think it was her smile that scared him more. “The dungeon is through the left doorway behind me.” He spoke quickly, his voice higher than before. “Stairs down at the end of the hallway. The barracks is before you reach it, at the top of the stairs.”

“How many guards in the dungeon?” Senna asked mildly, and exerted a little pressure with her blade—unnecessary to my mind.

Zarek rose up on his toes. “Three or four,” he squeaked.

“And the barracks?”

“Twenty.”

“Thank you.” She brought her other dagger down on the back of his head, a far gentler blow than she’d given to the guards. It was still enough to drop the poor man. She gave a shrug. “I don’t trust his loyalties.”

I returned it with a shrug of my own. “Fair. Let’s get going.”

As one, we made our way down the corridor, trying to keep silent. This was no concern for Senna and me, but Elara was quite loud with her feet—relatively speaking. She winced as she moved, a touch of color coming to her cheeks with her embarrassment, but I gave her a reassuring smile. She didn’t have the Silent Feet abilities Senna and I had. Lira brought up the rear.

“Barracks ahead,” I murmured, slowing. There was a large door, reinforced with iron bands, the top of the steps down to the dungeon visible beyond.

“Leave it to me,” Elara said.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re going to take on all the guards by yourself?”

“Why would I bother doing that?” Instead, she picked up a seating bench that was against one wall like it weighed nothing, carried it quietly down the hallway, and pressed it gently against the door.

Then waved us on with a nod of her head.

I grinned, and Senna and I ran past her. I didn’t know how strong my paladin was, but there was an excellent chance the guards would be trapped in that room for as long as she wished. It was a neat way to avoid the bloodshed—though they’d escape eventually. When we left, if not through the windows before then.

Still, it gave us time enough to do what we needed.

It was dark as we descended into the dungeons, with a brazier at the foot of the steps providing light—more than enough for Senna and me to see. She peeked around the corner, pulled back quickly, and held up four fingers.

Then she held up three, pointed at herself, held up one, and pointed at me with a grin.

I shook my head in mock exasperation. Then I held up four and pointed at her, and her grin widened.

She was off around the corner in an instant, and I followed hot on her heels. I was happy to let her have her fun, but not at the cost of unnecessary risks.

The four guards were sitting around a card table, mugs of hot tea steaming in the center and filling the room with smells of mint and rosemary, mingling with the sweet smell of whatever one of the guards was smoking in his pipe. On the surrounding walls were doors to the cells, small barred windows in each.

Neither of us had made any noise, but the guard opposite saw us anyway, his jaw going slack in surprise. Senna had crossed the gap before he’d even exclaimed, and once again the pommels of her daggers crunched home in their targets. Two of the guards slumped unconscious across the table.

The one who had seen us sprang back with an exclamation, his hand going for his sword. The fourth guard was only just becoming aware something was amiss.

Senna spun, a dagger flying from her hand to catch the fourth guard hilt-first in the face, and he gave a muffled cry as he crumpled, blood streaming from the wound. With her empty hand, Senna swept up a mug of hot liquid and threw it at the remaining guard as she completed her turn, mug and all. He flinched in reflex, his sword coming up to block, but Senna was right behind it.

Yet this last guard was fast. His blade came down, and she was forced to use her dagger to shove it aside. Her momentum carried her forward into his space, inside his space, and then my cute assassin headbutted him with a viciousness that surprised me. The guard cried out, face reeling back, and that was all the time Senna needed to slam her pommel into the side of his neck. He dropped at her feet.

“Ow,” she said, rubbing her forehead with her palm. “Bastard. That hurt.” She lashed out with her foot, catching the unconscious man somewhere vulnerable enough to make me wince. Extra bruises for when he awoke.

“You all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get Arik.”

We’d barely been in the room five seconds, but at the sound of his name, his face appeared at the window to one of the cells.

“Kaelan!” he said, his eyes widening.

“Morning.”

He stared at the unconscious guards, then at Senna who was still rubbing her forehead and looking pissed.

Movement in two other cells caught my eye, and two women peered out. “What’s going on?” one of them demanded, while at the same time the other cried out, “Don’t touch my husband, you bastards!”

“Prison break,” Senna said dryly. “And we’re on your side.” She started rummaging through the guards to find keys.

It had been too easy, and I was getting angsty. I wasn’t needed here. The girls had managed just fine. I should’ve left them to it, and stayed with Anya.

“I heard shouting through the city,” Arik said through the bars, as Senna unlocked the door to his cell. “I could not make out the words, but it was so loud. Was that the shamans?”

“No, it was Morvak.”

He came out of his cell and grasped my arm. “So they have started then?”

“Started what?”

“Their ritual.”

“Maybe, by now,” I said growing uncomfortable. I wanted out of here, and back to Anya. “But not when you heard the shouting.”

He frowned at me. “Then why was he shouting?”

“Draw them out,” I muttered, distracted with my thoughts. Senna was freeing Arik’s wives, and they ran to him as soon as they were out, throwing themselves into his arms.

But Arik kept his eyes on me. “Morvak drew the shamans out?”

“Yes. She … he’s on our side. It’s complicated.”

“Kaelan,” he said urgently, pushing aside one of his wives that was trying to kiss him. “Do you know what this ritual of theirs does?”

“It binds Morvak,” I said, giving him my full attention as I heard the note in his voice. “But I’ll stop it before they finish.”

He shook his head, the motion frantic. “No. Well, it does—but that is not its purpose. They mean to take Morvak’s power.”

“What?”

“First they bind him to their will, then they consume him.”

I stared at him.

“The ritual will kill Morvak,” Arik went on, “and the Covenant will gain his power.”

I turned, sprinting for the stairs.

“Kaelan!” he called after me. I didn’t stay to listen.

Activate Divine Strength: Speed. Activate Divine Strength: Meditation. I pulled up my movement rune and flooded it with intent—I’d save my willwind for when I arrived.

Divine Strength activated: Speed. Duration: ten minutes.

Divine Strength activated: Meditation. Duration: one hour.

I burst up the steps, swerved around Lira and Elara, and flew down the corridor.

Damn it all to hell. I knew I shouldn’t have left Anya.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I ran.

The cobbles were slippery and uneven, and after I almost fell, I switched my movement rune for my willwind, mana cost be damned. I couldn’t help Anya if I twisted an ankle or broke a leg.

This rune was my most expensive, and my mana depleted steadily. That was another concern—my mana didn’t replenish until midnight, even if I died, and my tranquility rune took too long to replenish it. But I pulled it up anyway, running it in parallel while I raced through the streets toward the pyramid, taking what few gains I could.

Then both runes flickered out.

“Fuck!” I shouted, skidding to a halt while I reactivated my willwind. Two complex runes was too taxing, even with my meditation boosted with Divine Strength.

I ran on. It wasn’t far from the enclave to the square, but my heart was pounding in my chest by the time I reached it. I skidded to a halt at the end of the street, taking in the view before me.

Morvak—Anya in her demonic, seven-foot form—stood in the center of the square, ringed in blue-white magic that skittered and crackled around her like strands of lightning, filling the air with the smell of ozone. The five Covenant shamans surrounded her evenly, like five points of a pentagram. The same blue-tinged white magic streamed from them, adding to the maelstrom that contained her.

For contained she was. She screamed in Morvak’s voice as she writhed beneath the onslaught, her body jerking and twisting as the magic affected her, and such was the pain in her voice, she almost drowned out the magic’s electric sizzle.

Several platoons of guards watched on, encircling the shamans and separating them from the crowd that had gathered in awe and curiosity. With Anya’s rousing of the city earlier, half the population now stood in the square, spilling over into the streets. The other half had probably fled.

I pushed through the crowd, uncaring whose dignity I assaulted.

How long did I have? For all I knew, the ritual could be complete within seconds, or take days. But they knew I was here. I didn’t think they’d start something that would distract them for too long if they couldn’t defend themselves. That suggested the ritual wasn’t a lengthy affair.

Anya could be dead in moments.

Bursting through the crowd, I drew my swords and activated my intuition rune. My mana was already down to half, and it began to deplete at an increased rate.

The guards saw me immediately, a half dozen coming to intercept me. This wasn’t the time to play nice; I dared not risk leaving them alive to distract me again. I cut through them, my blades working in tandem to parry and thrust. With my intuition, speed and clarity of mind, normal human opponents no longer posed a threat to me.

But I’d drawn every eye in Krennar.

“Stop him!” one of the shamans yelled, even as he pushed more mana into the ritual.

The rest of the guards turned to me, the nearest forming a defensive line, blocking me from reaching the shamans. Others had to run around the ritual, but they would be adding their numbers in moments.

“I’ll kill anyone who stands in my way,” I growled. It seemed only fair to warn them. “Stand back, or die.”

Then I rushed forward.

But these were Saromiran warriors, and none of them faltered. I didn’t want to kill all these men, I just wanted to get through. Yet they crowded in on me, their bodies blocking me from advancing. I cut them down as fast as I could, the cobbles running crimson as their warm blood melted the ice. Always, I pushed forward step by step, drawing ever closer to the nearest shaman—only a few dozen feet beyond the guards.

“Use Morvak!” the shaman who had first shouted called out again.

“Is he yet bound?” one of the others cried.

I killed two more men, parried a thrust from behind, and leaped the bodies in my way.

The shamans started shifting round, away from me, their magic still streaming into Anya even as they moved. The pentagram, it seemed, was not an essential part of the ritual, because soon all five of them were in a line on the far side of the square, Anya between me and them.

As soon as they were in position, the crackling lightning cage dispersed, and Anya stood free.

The men fighting me backed away.

The square fell quiet, the silence all the deeper for the lack of the magic’s crackle and snap that had filled it before.

“Anya!” I cried, pushing past the remaining guards in my way, who couldn’t retreat fast enough.

She straightened slowly, turning to face me, glaring at me with Morvak’s red eyes.

“Anya?” I said again, this time as a question. Was it still her, or was this truly now Morvak, controlled by the shamans?

“Kill him!” one of them yelled.

I glanced past Morvak’s imposing bulk to see the shamans working together as they cast another spell, gray, greasy magic flowing between them. Whatever it was, it was going to be big. I didn’t have much time.

Morvak—Anya—drew his sword. “Kaelan!” he shouted, his voice booming out over the square. “Fight me! Man to man!”

Man to demon, anyway.

I rushed forward, not knowing if Morvak would attack or not, but knowing that whatever the shamans were planning, I had to get closer.

“This is a man’s world!” Morvak shouted, and thrust forward with his sword.

Thank you, Anya.

I dropped beneath the blow, mindful that the sword was real even if Anya’s intent to kill me wasn’t. And she hadn’t been lying—she had no idea how to use that sword. For all the drama of the show, her thrust had been slow and inept. She was an artist, not a warrior.

For once, the slick, icy cobbles helped, and on my knees I slid past her as the sword past harmlessly overhead. I didn’t spare it a glance; I was watching the shamans.

As soon as I regained my feet, I dropped my willwind rune. Now I was between Morvak and the shamans, but they were already committed in their target.

My intuition flared, and I threw up my protection rune, forming a shield barrier between the shamans and Anya. Gray magic shot out from the shamans, like a jet from a hosepipe, filling the air with a foul, corrupt stench. My protection rune materialized an instant later, just catching the strike. Damn, that had been close.

But it wasn’t over. My shield was failing fast, cracking and shrinking as the shamans’ combined magic eroded it.

I gritted my teeth, pouring my mana into the rune. My mana dipped alarmingly, now down to only a quarter. The shamans were fighting me, trying to pour mana in and push past my shield, but within a second, one of them faltered. Then another. The gray torrent became a gentle stream, flickered, and faded away.

“No!” one of the shamans screamed. He glared at me from a distance of twenty feet. “Focus on him! Kill Kaelan!”

I assumed he was talking to the other shamans, but none of them moved. Instead, a black sword tip emerged through my chest, glowing with red energy and covered in my blood which sprayed crimson across the cobblestones at my feet. My back arched, my arms felt too heavy, my swords slipped from my hands to clatter to the ground.

Then Morvak pulled his blade out of my back, and I crumpled to the floor.

“He is dead,” Morvak’s voice boomed through the square.

Except I wasn’t. I wasn’t even in pain. It had all been an illusion, right down to the way my back had arched, my limbs had jerked, and I’d fallen limp at her feet. I hadn’t even had to play a role; she’d managed it all.

So she had a plan. I hoped.

I played possum, giving her the moment, and pulled up my tranquility rune while I waited. It might only have a few seconds to run, but with my mana already so low, I’d take everything I could get.

Unceremoniously, Anya—Morvak—stooped and picked up my fallen blades in one hand, and grabbed the collar of my clothing with her other. She must’ve sheathed her sword at some point, but I was busy playing my part—keeping my eyes open and staring, unseeing. Desperately trying not to blink. Truly dead, nothing to see here.

She dragged me along the cobbles—which was a nice touch, if surprisingly unpleasant. I now had icy slush inside my leather trousers and that, more than anything else, required focus to avoid a reaction. Then she flung me at the feet of the shamans.

“He is dead,” she repeated, Morvak’s voice booming out. “I am but your loyal servant.”

Then she dropped my swords next to me, in easy reach.

I didn’t need more of an invitation than that.

Activate God power. Activate God Power. And I put my willwind rune back up, remaining mana be damned.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

God Power effect doubled for 4.99 minutes.

Now all my skills were boosted to insane levels, but they’d need to be for this fight.

I didn’t bother rolling to my feet or giving any other sign before I acted. I merely reached out, grabbed the hilt of my nearest sword, and thrust upwards.

The shaman nearest had no chance to defend himself. My sword entered through his belly, and drove on up into his heart.

I was determined to take them out as quickly as possible. So far, all they’d done was joint spells with long cast times, but their combined power was insane. My shield would’ve fallen to that last spell if they’d been able to keep it up a half-second longer, and Anya would be dead.

“Get out of here, Anya. Now.”

I rolled to my feet, collecting my other blade as I did.

Anya didn’t hang around, but she didn’t run either. She simply disappeared. One moment, there was a passive, obedient, seven-foot demon with red glowing eyes and more muscles than the entire Olympic weightlifting team, and the next … nothing.

Both the shamans and I blinked, but I recovered first.

I stabbed forward into the next shaman, but a shield sprang up, protecting him. He looked as surprised as I did, suggesting he hadn’t cast it. If he hadn’t, who had? One of the others had his hand raised, answering my question. Damn, they were covering for each other.

My intuition rune warned me, but not quickly enough. A bolt of searing lightning shot from the fingers of the shaman to my right, the one who had shouted first—the one acting like their leader. His spell struck my side, spinning me away from the shaman I’d just attacked. I cried out at the pain, the electricity burning into my flesh and forcing my muscles into spasms.

And I couldn’t move. Not when all my muscles wanted to do was clench. The spell had been a single cast, but the effects were lingering; I couldn’t shake them off. The shaman leader raised his hands again, grinning as another bolt burst forth, catching me full in the chest.

“Kill him!” he screamed, even as I fell backwards, my back arching for real this time. Every muscle in my body tightened to its extreme, and I’d have screamed if I could’ve opened my jaw.

I was vaguely aware of the other shamans raising their hands, adding their spells. Fire. Acid. Ice shards.

There was a fleeting instant of oblivion as they all washed over me, and then peace and calm.

Undying Will Activated. Invincibility 5 seconds.

Bonus God Power Activated.

God Power effect tripled for 4.21 minutes.

Damn, they’d killed me already.

Okay. My turn.

I sprung to my feet, lightning crackling around me and fire washing over me, completely unable to touch me for the five seconds of my invincibility. Five seconds to do as much damage as I could.

This time, I made no mistake as I plunged my sword into the nearest shaman. Not the leader, unfortunately, but I had to take at least one of them down while they couldn’t stop me. The shield held for the first two slashes, then it cracked. He tried to dodge away, but it was a pitiful attempt—they weren’t trained fighters—and my next thrust pierced his chest and found his heart.

Two seconds of invincibility left at best, and the spells were still coming in.

My mana was down to its last dregs—less than ten percent—and though my skills were as high as they could go for four more minutes, I badly needed my runes.

Wait … with my skills so high, could my meditation support two complex runes?

Yet though willwind brought speed and mental clarity, I was already fast enough. I could do without it for the moment, saving my mana. Intuition hadn’t served me as much as I’d hoped; that lightning bolt had been near instantaneous.

Fine. We’d do this the old-fashioned way.

I pulled up my shield rune to take the brunt of the magic attacks, pairing it with tranquility. With my meditation so damn high, the mana I got back almost paid for what my shield was costing.

And I leaped forward.

“Stop him!” the leader screamed, firing lightning at me from both hands.

I pushed my shield in the way, not wanting to risk being immobilized again. A jet of fire came in from my left, and I rolled beneath it, feeling the heat sear overhead. Fire, lightning—what was left? Acid or ice? I’d killed one of them.

Acid, it turned out, and fuck did it sting. The blast washed over me, filling my lungs and my eyes, and I had to turn away, blinded. The fire struck again, but it actually burned the acid away, and that was a mild improvement. My hair was on fire, my skin blistering under the heat, and the pain was intolerable—or would’ve been, if I hadn’t grown intimately familiar with pain as I’d unlocked my own pyramid.

Most importantly, the fire shaman was closest, and though I could no longer risk opening my eyes, I didn’t need to. I kept my shield up between me and the lightning shaman—the leader—and pushed resolutely into the blaze.

I figured I must be close enough by now, and risked opening my eyes to check. The flames seared away my vision, but in that instant, I saw all I needed to.

I turned a fraction to my left, and stabbed forward. My first strikes were stopped by a shield, but I knew it wouldn’t hold. The only question was whether it would drop before the immense damage I was taking stopped me for good. But the fire was only pain. Great pain, yes, but it wasn’t immobilizing like the lightning spell.

“Why won’t you die!” screamed the leader, and for once, we were both on the same page.

I stabbed again and again, until I could no longer be sure my arms were even moving. They felt like they were—the swing of motion and all—but my nerves had been burned away. I still didn’t stop. I didn’t stop until, at last, the fire cut out, and something heavy fell on my feet.

Then I staggered once, and dropped on top of him.

With my shield down, the acid and lightning did its work.

It was a funny thing, losing consciousness and dying while already blind. Yet I was certain the darkness grew darker.

I awoke on a familiar stone table, four pillars around it.

My brain did one of those uncomfortable realignments, replacing the expected with the reality. In this case, white marble needed to become dark grey polished basalt.

Quickly, I pulled up my tranquility rune. I didn’t know how much God Power time I had left, and I needed all the mana I could get. What did I have, three minutes maybe?

I’d killed the fire and ice shamans, and whichever one I’d taken out first, courtesy of Anya’s little ploy. Two left.

My mana was up to about fifteen percent, and rising slowly.

If I stayed here, I’d have no God Power left when I faced them again, and limited mana for my runes. No Undying Will. No Divine Strength—save for my meditation boost, which was still running. Speed had long since run out.

Fifteen percent mana and about two-and-a-half minutes of God Power—less by the time I’d make it down the stairs.

Oh well. It was better than twenty percent and no God Power.

I pushed myself up with a sigh.

I still had my swords and all my equipment, but my leather armor hadn’t repaired itself. There was a hole the size of my fist where that first lightning bolt had struck.

Which gave me an idea. I might be low on mana, but they weren’t the only ones with ranged attacks.

I came out of the pyramid at speed. The two remaining shamans were standing around the area where my body had disappeared, talking to some of the guards. I was halfway down the steps before either shaman noticed me.

And then they did, looking stunned to see me, and even the guards reeled back in shock—though that may have been motivated by a desire to get out of the line of fire.

“How are you not dead?” the leader cried.

I was certain Drakos had used those exact same words in this scenario, and I grinned. We were right beside the pyramid; they couldn’t win, no matter how many times they killed me.

He raised his hands, lightning shooting across the square toward me, but I had my shield ready. It took the brunt of the attack while I dodged and weaved, trying to make it harder for him. I had too little mana remaining to keep my shield up indefinitely.

I had to end this fast.

Dropping my shield, I dodged again, then pulled up my ice rune and jumped the last half-dozen steps, neatly avoiding the blast of acid from the other shaman that splashed harmlessly into the pyramid behind me. I fired at the leader as I ran toward him, shard after shard of ice shooting out and striking his shield.

None of them penetrated. They were all too low-power: I was conserving what mana I had.

Yet they looked impressive, and though at first he had cowered behind his shields, now he arrogantly straightened, convinced of his own invincibility. His hands came up again.

But he hadn’t been my target.

At the last moment, I Shadow-Stepped toward the acid shaman. My mana barely dipped as I used the ability, and that was an unexpected bonus. My little-used Shadowmage ability reduced the cost of my Veilstrider spells, and these days I used them so rarely I hadn’t bothered to test it. At that cost, I could afford a few more, and double-Shadow-Stepped again, crossing the space in an instant.

Lightning blasted through the air behind me, missing me by a wide margin.

The acid shaman’s expression widened, his hands rising to blast a spell straight into my face. I dropped beneath it, skidding across the icy ground, and shadow-stepped one last time.

Directly behind him.

My swords slashed twice against his shields, then the next blows found no resistance—save for his soft furs and softer flesh. He gasped as he died.

But the last shaman wasn’t prepared to take any chances, and his next blast of lightning struck into his own brethren. From there, it ran down my swords and into me, stunning me for a second.

It was long enough for him to retarget, and his next blast hit me center-mass.

Again my muscles spasmed. All I could do was grit my teeth as he slowly advanced on me, pumping evermore magic into his spell until his lightning was searing through my flesh.

Fuck, it hurt. I really hated this guy.

By the time he killed me, I was more than ready for the painless oblivion.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I lay on the altar, catching my metaphorical breath.

I wasn’t out of breath, of course—I always respawned in full health. But sometimes the lingering effects in my mind of a particularly violent death took some time to process, and having chunks of my flesh blasted off by lightning surely qualified.

The four pillars evenly spaced around me were bugging me, and it took me a moment to figure out why. It wasn’t that they were basalt instead of marble, it was because they were back in their original positions. We’d moved the altar in Norathil, and after all the rune-room deaths, I’d gotten used to seeing them in their new, off-kilter position.

Great. Solved that puzzle.

God Power Deactivated.

Defense has gained 1 rank.

Speed has gained 1 rank.

Dodge has gained 1 rank.

Dual Wielding has gained 1 rank.

Meditation has gained 1 rank.

Well, shit. No more God Power, no Undying Will, and only a trickle of mana remaining. The only thing I still had left was time on my Divine Strength, boosting my meditation skill.

I pushed myself up slowly, taking stock. My hardened leather armor hung off me like a rag, cratered by that last attack. It was more holes than protection, and dangled irritatingly from one shoulder. I shrugged out of it, letting it drop to the floor, leaving me an undershirt that had also seen better days—barely more intact.

At least I’d held onto my swords—but with my hands locked up by the lightning, dropping them was never going to be a concern anyway.

Less than ten percent mana. My multiple Shadow Steps had hardly cost a couple of percent. The only problem was that they weren’t faster than the lightning, which seemed to travel at the speed of thought. Or light, I supposed. The only warning was the flexing of his fingers, and I’d found out the hard way that wasn’t enough for my intuition rune.

Options, options?

I couldn’t think of many.

All my go-to runes would not only suck away the last of my mana, but had so far proved ineffective. My shield could keep his lightning at bay, but only so long as my mana lasted. Long enough to close the gap? I doubted it.

It was that damn paralysis that was the issue. Once my muscles were being fed electricity at such rates, all they could do was clench, and I couldn’t move. He could kill me at his leisure, as he’d shown already.

I thought back on the basic runes I had—the single-aspect, cheap ones. Movement? Useless when his lightning was instant. Ice? Not enough mana to force through his shields before he zapped me. Chaos? Void? I’d never used them; I didn’t know what they did. This really didn’t feel like the right time to experiment.

If I didn’t kill him this time, I’d be out of mana until midnight.

Would that be so bad?

Except the bastard would likely take his anger out on the girls, who even as I sat here were no doubt fleeing the enclave, about to arrive, and probably pursued by all the shamans’ guards.

Fuck.

Maybe I needed their help on this occasion. If Elara was here to weather the—literal, lightning—storm, with Lira to heal her and Senna to do her blink-stabby thing, we could take this guy down in no time.

But that depended on them surviving long enough, and Elara being able to resist his lightning.

Wait … resistance? Could I push through his lightning with enough element-focused resistance?

So far, the shaman had been a one-trick pony. If I threw everything I had left into my resistance rune, with intent for lightning immunity, would it work?

It was a cheap enough rune to keep running. And it meant I could face him before the girls arrived.

I was immortal. This was my fight. I wasn’t having anyone else die for me, and especially not one of them.

I prepared the resistance rune as I strode toward the exit of the pyramid. Another flight of steps I’d gone down far more times than up.

But if this worked, it was going to be the last time.

The shaman had learned. He wasn’t staring at the space where I’d died, but looking toward the top of the pyramid. He saw me as soon as I emerged, and his face turned red with rage.

“How?” he screamed at me.

Actually, now that I thought of it, there was another way of winning this fight: all I had to do was get fried so many times he ran out of mana.

But that wasn’t a great plan. The girls would arrive long before that happened.

No, we’d stick with this last roll of the dice.

He raised his hands to cast his spell, and I activated the resistance rune. The lightning jumped from him to me in less time than it took to blink, striking me in the center of my chest.

I grunted. I could feel it, and it hurt. My muscles were rigid, but not spasming. It required more effort than I’d have liked, but I took the first step down.

His eyes widened and he poured more mana in, his hands trembling with the power he was pushing into me.

I took another step. About a hundred and fifty more to go.

At least this rune was barely depleting my mana—helped, no doubt, by my stupidly-high Divine Strength boosted meditation, and the fact that, as runes went, it was as basic as they came.

The descent of the staircase became a marathon. Each step I had to force my muscles to obey and push through the pain. The shaman’s eyes narrowed as he focused on me with all his being.

I was vaguely aware that the girls had arrived, forcing their way through the crowd. The enclave guards turned up a few seconds later, trying to reach them. But when they looked up and saw the impressive light show the shaman and I had going on, they all stopped.

Everyone was watching.

I made it halfway down the steps, and save for the crackle and pop of energy around me, the whole square was silent, as if Krennar held its breath.

My mana was less than five percent. At this rate, I’d run out before I reached him.

I pushed harder, taking the next few steps faster than the last, but the haste almost made me stumble, my muscles too rigid to provide the balance I took for granted.

“Die!” the shaman screamed at me.

Was that a tone of desperation in his voice? Was he running out of mana, like I was? He was sure dumping a shitload into this spell. It couldn’t be inexhaustible, could it?

A third of the way from the bottom, I saw the moment in his eyes when he realized he couldn’t stop me. From his perspective, I was shrugging off the power that had previously killed me with every step—after I’d returned every time I’d died. He wasn’t a young man; he knew he couldn’t meet me face to face. Or flee before I caught him.

If I were him, I’d be shit scared. With good reason: he was going to be dead in a few moments, and I was looking forward to it. A lot.

His desperation grew as he pushed even more of his mana into the spell, and the pain increased proportionately. If he could do this, why hadn’t he before?

Yet though it hurt, I’d almost grown used to it. My pain tolerance was off the fucking scale with the number of times my own pyramid had stabbed me to death—few of which had been instant, I was sorry to recall. But it helped me now. I grinned—or grimaced—and kept coming.

“Die!” he screamed again. “Die! Die! Die!”

The desperation of his repetition was strangely encouraging. One of us was going to give out soon, and it wasn’t going to be me.

I was almost at the bottom of the steps, but running on dregs of mana.

Yet he was running on less than that, for he suddenly began to scream. The lightning flared from his hands, brighter than before, almost strong enough to lock my muscles completely. But in the same moment, I saw the fear in his eyes: the instant he realized he’d exhausted all his mana and was consuming his life force. Like Lira had when she’d healed the fallen knight.

For some reason, he couldn’t end his spell.

Perhaps it had been going for too long. Perhaps he knew I’d kill him as soon as he did. Maybe it was a life force thing—once it started, it couldn’t stop. But whatever the reason, the spell kept blasting into me, consuming him as it did.

A flare of blue flame erupted from his chest, and he screamed again. It burst out of him, burning him from the inside, and at last—at long last—his lightning cut off.

I staggered at the abrupt change, my muscles fully back under my control. I was a dozen steps from the bottom, and he was standing right there, but some sixth sense warned me not to get closer. Instead, I waited, watching.

It didn’t take long, and he screamed throughout.

One lick of blue flame inside him became two, then five, then—in the space of a breath—his whole body burned up. He threw his arms out, his head back, screaming his agony up to the sky, and then he exploded outwards, his body vaporizing with the force of a small explosion.

The shockwave hit me, and it was all I could do to keep my feet. It rippled over the crowd, weaker by that point, stirring cloaks and ruffling hair.

But everyone was staring at where the last of the shamans had just died.

Then, almost as one, they turned their gazes to me.

I took a moment to enjoy the victory: the utter astonishment on some faces, the awe on others. Fear was a common accompaniment. Mainly, I used that time to ensure I didn’t fall down, my muscles trembling with the aftermath of the strain, and my mana so low it was barely registering.

My resistance rune was still up; I canceled it before I went the way of the shaman.

I knew what this called for: it called for a speech. Damn, but I hated making speeches.

Yet, before I had a chance, the crowd looked as one to higher up the steps of the pyramid. I turned too, compelled in that way when everyone looks convincingly at something behind you.

Anya stood at the top of the steps, still in her Morvak form.

So that was where she’d gone. It made sense, I suppose—the pyramid was her refuge—but I was dying to know how she got there.

“Krennar!” she boomed, her voice once more filling the city, and updating anyone who’d been too busy to make this showdown. “The shamans are no more!”

Her voice reverberated off every building, the echo coming back on itself. It made it necessary to speak slowly, letting the sound dissipate before she spoke again, but that only added to the stately drama of her address.

I wondered if the army outside could hear this, and figured they probably could.

“I, Morvak, accuse the shamans of practicing a false religion!” Mildly hypocritical, but I was hardly one to point fingers. “A false religion that has led to their destruction!”

And I had nothing to do with it? Anya and I were going to be having words.

“Saromir has been falsely guided. Warriors of Saromir! I, Morvak, command you to return to your clans, your homes, and your families.”

Well done, Anya.

But she wasn’t finished. “Seek out false shamans! Return to respecting the spirits! Never again will Saromir be deceived by those who would divert us from this path!”

Leif would’ve enjoyed that. Ravik and Salok, too.

I turned to look out over the crowd, most of whom were ignoring me in favor of the more imposing form of Morvak. But I folded my arms, glaring down at them, lending my weight to Anya’s words.

Her speech concluded, she thudded down the steps behind me. Whether the pyramid trembled because she was really that heavy or whether it was a performer’s touch of illusion, I couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter. I moved to the side, and she stopped on the step next to me.

She was quite a lot taller than I was.

Then Morvak, God of Illusions and Saromir, offered his arm. And I, Kaelan, God of Valorah, accepted.

The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping in a most un-Saromiran display. It was a noise to rival even Anya’s projected voice, and they might well have heard it outside the city, too.

I glanced past Morvak to where my girls waited together. Elara stood in the center, her arms folded. Lira leaned on her staff. Senna appeared amused.

The enclave warriors that had chased them were busy pulling their armor off and dispersing through the crowd, losing their identities. I didn’t have a problem with that.

“Can you only talk at one volume?” I muttered to Anya.

“Of course not,” she stage-whispered back.

“Nice speech.”

“Thanks. To be fair, there was quite an initial resistance when the shamans took over. I felt Saromir needed a reminder of this.”

“Good plan. It remains to be seen if the army disperses, but it’s a damn strong start.”

“They’ll need a leader,” she—he?—said, a hint of worry coming across in her whisper. “I don’t want that job.”

“Don’t worry,” I said quickly. “I know just the man.”

“Hmm,” Anya said thoughtfully. “Share a name? Then I think Morvak might bow out.”

I nodded. “Arik, who previously held the rank of Fang.”

“Oh, yeah. He’ll do. See you later.”

Before I could respond, Morvak turned and walked back up the steps of the pyramid. Each footstep he made booming like thunder, cutting through the crowd’s cheers and drawing their eyes. I wondered if Anya had overdone the sound effects, but all I saw was awe in the faces before me. Yet each step she took was quieter than the last, until she stood once more outside the temple at the top of the pyramid.

“My work here is done,” she shouted in Morvak’s voice, once more carrying to every corner of the city. “I do not belong in Saromir or on Corthos.” The crowd was silent as they digested this piece of news. “Arik of your people, who holds the rank of Fang. I charge you to lead Krennar and Saromir. Lead them well, or I shall be forced to return.”

Then Morvak raised his arm in farewell as he backed into the temple, until he was gone from sight.

As if summoned, Arik pushed his way through the crowd and walked alone to where I stood. I waited until he was near, then descended the last few steps to meet him with both of us clasping arms.

At least some of the warriors standing nearby recognized him, for they came swiftly to attention, saluting with fist over chest. Then Arik pushed his cloak back over his shoulders, revealing his bare upper arm and the five bands of his rank of Fang. The rest of the soldiers also saluted, and the crowd took up a new cheer.

“Fang!”

“Arik!”

“Your wives all right?” I muttered to him.

“They are, my friend.” He lifted a hand to the crowd in acknowledgement. “And it seems I am once more in your debt.”

“Try not to invade Valorah for a while, and we’ll call it quits,” I said dryly.

“Oh, I think we will be busy with our own affairs for some time to come,” he replied, a note of menace in his voice. “There are too many shamans that need … checking on.”

At sword point, by the sounds of it. But that was his business, and no longer mine.

I glanced across the square to where my girls waited for me. “Then, I will leave you to it.”

“Do not leave without saying goodbye,” he told me, “otherwise I may have to send the army after you.”

I paused in the act of turning away, and glanced back at him.

“Was that a joke?”

He didn’t smile. “Saromirans are not without a sense of humor.”

“I know,” I said, remembering Leif.

“Though, mostly it is too sophisticated for a Valoran.” He tilted his head graciously toward me. “I would not expect you to understand.”

“You’d be surprised,” I muttered, and walked off across the square.

With me out of the way, the crowd pressed forward, trying to reach Arik, who I trusted was sensible enough to retreat up the steps before he was mobbed. No one got too close to me—which was fortunate, as I’d never been weaker than in that moment.

In the end, this one had taken everything I had, and I was suddenly exhausted.

The crowd parted around me like the sea before a prophet, and Lira, Elara and Senna were waiting. I all but fell into their arms, keeping my feet by force of will alone.

“Let’s go home,” I muttered.

“I was wrong; you have seen suffering,” said a croaky voice at my elbow, and I turned to see Anya in her old woman form. She prodded me with her stick. “Is it always so brutal when you get involved?”

“Yes,” Lira said quickly, with a pointed glance at me.

Senna’s eyebrows rose up toward her hairline. “He just saved Saromir from making a fool of itself, and you criticize him?”

Anya fixed Senna with her penetrating stare. “I say what I mean.”

“You were following us the other night.” Senna’s eyes widened in recognition, while Elara watched on. “Who the hell are you?”

Anya drew herself up, looking down her nose at Senna—which was an impressive trick, given she barely reached Senna’s chest. “That is no way to address your elders, child.”

I shook my head and chuckled, leaving them to it. Instead, I slid my arm around Lira’s waist and pulled her into a hug.

“The shamans needed to die,” Senna said, still defending me. “What Kaelan did—and the way he did it—was necessary.”

“We weren’t discussing him, young lady. We were discussing your form of address.”

“I happen to be the wife of the God of Valorah,” Senna said, her tone imperious.

“I happen to be the God of Illusions,” Anya replied.

Senna gaped at her, while Lira grinned.

When was the last time Senna had been rendered speechless?

I couldn’t remember.

Chapter Thirty

“How did you disappear?” I asked Anya as we walked back to the Brown Buck.

Now that we were no longer wanted fugitives, it offered a far bigger suite of rooms than the box-sized living space of the Lazy Tailor. Still liked the name, though.

“I didn’t,” Anya said in her raspy, aged voice, “Invisibility doesn’t seem to work too well for some reason. But I can change my form easily enough. I became a gnat.” She waved her walking stick for emphasis. “Some illusions are harder to hold than others, but I could keep it long enough to fly into the temple.”

“Brilliant,” I chuckled, and waved my hand at her wrinkled old woman. “There’s no one around. You don’t need that anymore.”

The streets were empty, most of Krennar celebrating in the square. Anya shifted back to her usual self.

“Anya?” Senna spluttered from behind us. “It was you all along?”

Lira gave me a grin as she walked on my other side.

“She called me ‘child’?” Senna said in mock outrage. “I’m older than she is!”

I thought they were about the same age, actually, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say so.

Senna was still muttering. “Why do I get the feeling I’m the last to know her secret?”

“I didn’t know,” Elara said calmly. “I guessed, when she turned up and poked Kaelan with her stick, but I didn’t know for sure.”

“Where does your stick go?” Lira asked, curious.

“No idea.” Anya shrugged as she walked along. “It’s just part of that particular illusion, and disappears with the wrinkles.”

“Can you make anything?” I was interested now.

“Most things, so long as I can picture them,” Anya said. “They don’t stay when the illusion changes, but they’re real enough so long as I maintain them.”

“A rocket launcher?”

Anya laughed. “I did try to make a gun, actually, but it failed. I have to know how things work.” She shook her head sadly. “The coffee machine was a lump of plastic. And anyway, no coffee. I can make food and drink, but they don’t sate an appetite or quench a thirst.” She shrugged. “Illusions have their limits.”

“Kaelan mentioned coffee once before,” Lira said thoughtfully. “Is it an elixir of gods?”

“Yes,” Anya and I said in unison, then grinned at each other.

The Brown Buck was empty, the patrons and staff likely out in the square, but it was still relatively early—not even lunch time. With the place to ourselves, we pushed two tables together near the hearth, and pulled over the most comfortable chairs.

“So what now?” Anya addressed me.

“Tidy up and head home,” I said, with relief. “We’re done here, and I’m keen to get back to Norathil.”

Anya looked down at her hands. “Is … is the offer still open?”

“You’re free to go where you want and do what you want,” I said to her frankly. “Your powers are formidable, and after surviving here, you could survive anywhere. But, if you would like to come back to Norathil with us, you’d be very welcome.”

She nodded with evident relief. “Yes, please. I would.”

“Good. We’ll leave soon.”

Lira smiled at Anya and reached across the table, and they linked hands, gripping tightly.

To our relief, the Brown Buck’s staff wandered back in not long after, and after lunch Arik and I went to fetch our horses, which took longer than I expected as they’d been claimed by some warriors. It took Arik flashing his five bands to get the beasts back, and even longer to retrieve all our equipment. But I wanted our tent in particular; the trip home would be too cold without it.

The encampment outside the city was breaking up, many of the warriors heading off home. There were no rumbles of discontent, no talk of invading Valorah. Mostly, the theme was one of returning home to families, and any disgruntlement was aimed at the shamans.

They’d heard everything Anya—as Morvak—had said, and Saromirans didn’t like admitting the wool had been pulled over their eyes. Once Arik was recognized, he was frequently accosted by the claws and talons of various clans, assuring him they would clean house when they got home.

“You have performed a great service for Saromir,” Arik said over beers in the Brown Buck that evening. “It will not be quickly forgotten.”

It was just the two of us. The girls were up in the rooms, exhausted from an afternoon of shopping. Arik had happily given them gold enough, taken from the shamans’ reserves.

I nodded in thanks. “I’ve enjoyed my visit to Saromir.” Lira’s kidnapping aside. I also hadn’t enjoyed being frazzled by lightning, singed by acid and fire, or the constant cold that seeped into my bones, but that wasn’t what I meant.

I thought of Leif and Malric. Of the way that, even back in Lorimel, Arik had acted with honor. Many of Drakos’ men had given me one impression of Saromirans, but it wasn’t the one I chose to come away with. “I like the Saromiran people.”

Arik nodded in kind. “We are a complex race, but we have redeeming qualities.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” I muttered, thinking of unpleasant Valorans I’d encountered, and took a swig of my beer.

“You are leaving tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Will you return one day?”

I glanced at him, and he was watching me intently. “If I’m welcome, sure. But you have a country to lead now, and I don’t want to get in your way.”

“True,” he admitted. “But in a few months, matters will have settled.”

I chuckled as a thought occurred.

He raised an eyebrow in polite enquiry.

“I just realized that effectively, this is a political meeting. We’re the kings of our respective countries, and here we sit, sharing a beer, without advisors or law makers waiting in the wings.”

He stared at me for a moment, then his lips twitched with his own amusement. “Maybe we should do all our future political meetings in this way.”

“With you there,” I said with feeling. “To that point then, I will leave instructions for the borders at Faronis and Lakeside to be opened to you. We should have more trade between our peoples. We’ll be stronger for it.”

“And I shall implement strict laws against raiding in Valorah.”

I blinked in surprise; regular—albeit minor—border incursions had been part of Valoran-Saromiran history for centuries, as far as I knew. It was a significant offer. “Won’t the clans object?”

He shrugged his large shoulders. “After the embarrassment of blindly following their shamans, they may be more receptive to a government led by a warrior.”

I wasn’t going to argue; Arik knew his people. But I also wasn’t going to reduce the garrisons at the border.

He drained his beer and rose. “If you will excuse me, my friend, my wives have been waiting patiently for my return.”

I stood up too. “We’ll be leaving early,” I told him as we clasped arms. “There’s no need for you to get up and see us off.”

“Then this is farewell.”

“Until next time,” I said with a grin, then watched him leave.

I might’ve done that man some favors, I thought as I sat down to finish my beer, but he’d saved my life by not joining in the fight against Drakos, and saved Lira’s by getting us into Krennar.

We both owed each other a great deal, and that seemed like a healthy way for two neighboring kings to be.

“I’ve never ridden a horse,” Anya said, looking warily at the extra mount Arik had arranged for us.

“Neither had I before I met Kaelan.” Senna pulled herself easily into her own saddle, gathered up her reins, and glanced back down at Anya. “It’s child’s play.”

“Be nice,” I said to her with a smile, then helped Anya up onto her mount. “You may be sore for the first few days, but you’ll be a master of it by the time we’re back in Norathil.”

Elara and Lira were already mounted, waiting for me. We all wore thick new winter travelling cloaks, courtesy of the girls’ shopping and the shamans’ money, and our tent was strapped behind my saddle.

With no need to pose as a Saromiran anymore, I’d foregone the stiff hardened leather armor in favor of more comfortable furs, like a merchant might wear. Beyond the purposes of a disguise, there was little need for armor anyway; I pitied anyone who tried to attack this group on our way home. Besides, Anya could probably make us all look like a Saromiran warband if it was needed. Hell, come to that she could probably disguise us as centaurs, or fly a dragon along beside us.

It was a damn cool god power, and I was a bit jealous, truth be told.

The encampment outside the city was in a flurry of activity as we rode through. Many of the warriors had left the day before, and from the way the remaining tents were being pulled down, the rest would leave today. It was reassuring to see what could so easily have been an invading army more interested in getting back to their families, and even more encouraging when I was recognized, and the response was positive.

“God of Valorah!” came a cry, and it was taken up as we rode from Krennar. More and more men left their work to line the way, and we were cheered out of sight.

“They cheer loudly for a race that shows so little emotion,” Senna commented.

“I like them,” Lira said, echoing my thoughts, “but I would’ve preferred to meet more of their women.”

It was a fair point; we’d had one evening meal with Salok’s clan when the women were invited, which had been a positive experience, but hardly enough time to understand the other half of the Saromiran people.

“The men don’t treat their women badly,” Anya offered in a quiet voice. “They tend to cherish them, actually. The women just have very old fashioned … er … very traditional roles.”

I glanced away so that she couldn’t see my smile.

We were now in the thick of winter, and it was colder as we rode than it had been when we’d arrived. Snow lay thick over the steppes, and a beautiful winter sunrise filled the sky with reds and golds. We had a ten-week journey home, and it would be spring before we arrived.

Having passed through Faronis already, I opted to head for Lakeside, instead. We could’ve gone back the same way and visited Leif—the pass over the mountains would be manageable by the time we reached it, and I had my map to guide us—but I was keen to see more of the towns and cities of Valorah—my own country. I’d never been to Lakeside.

But that was four weeks away.

I rode up front with Lira. Senna followed behind, often humming to herself, while Anya and Elara brought up the rear, the two of them talking together.

The first day passed with little of interest save for Anya’s frequent mutterings of ‘stupid beast’ as she battled with her horse, and it became ‘stupid fucking beast’ as the day wore on. When we stopped for the evening, she slipped from her saddle with all the stiffness of her old woman disguise, and winced whenever she moved.

She also wasn’t very impressed when Elara and I had finished erecting the tent.

“Are we all sleeping in that?” she asked, looking at it dubiously.

“It keeps us dry and warm,” Elara said reasonably.

“It’s not very … big,” Anya replied.

“Good point,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “There’s more of us now. I should’ve thought of that.”

“We’ll all fit fine,” Lira said blithely. “We’ll just have to snuggle up.”

Anya turned away, but not before I saw the blush tingeing her cheeks.

There was more embarrassment later that evening.

We sat around the fire over dinner, and Anya couldn’t get comfortable on her log, wincing whenever she moved. I recalled only too well my first few days on horseback, and sympathized.

“What you need is a hot shower,” Lira said with a smile as she saw Anya’s discomfort. “Have you ever had one?”

I coughed on my venison stew, and Elara thumped my back to help me breathe again. She was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked, and I quickly waved off the next blow, before Lira had to heal me.

“I have, but it’s been a long time,” Anya replied with a combination of interest and amusement. “I thought Corthos was lacking in sophisticated plumbing. Is Valorah more civilized?”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘plumbing’,” Lira replied with perfect innocence, “but Kaelan’s magic can make a wonderful hot shower.”

“Can it now?” Anya raised a delicate eyebrow at me.

“He can,” Senna said, “and I’m first tonight.”

“Hang on,” Lira answered quickly. “Didn’t you have hot showers while you journeyed in with him? I missed out on all of those, so surely I should go first.”

“There’s room enough for both of you,” Elara attempted to mediate.

Anya was looking in puzzlement between us all. “You mean now? Out here?”

“That’s right,” Lira said, rising from the log she’d been sitting on. “It’s quite warm when you’re under the spray.” She began to untie her boots, pausing only to glance at me. “Hurry up, Kaelan.”

Anya’s eyes grew wide, her cheeks burning crimson. “Er … I’ll … check on the tent.”

She was inside the tent before Lira had her boots off.

“I think Anya is a little shy,” I quietly admonished the girls. “We should take it gently.”

Senna was unbothered, pulling off her leather trousers from beneath her kirtle. “So long as I still get my hot showers.”

Lira paused in the process of untying her belt. “Can we still sleep naked?”

I hesitated, wondering how best to answer that, and the girls looked at me in alarm.

“I don’t have enough spare clothing to wear some at night,” Elara said. “We should’ve brought more.”

“It’s fine,” Anya called from inside the tent. “I’m just making some changes in here. Don’t let me stop you from doing what you usually do.”

I shrugged. If Anya was prepared to go with the flow, that made things simpler.

By now, I’d had enough practice to make the shower rune large enough to cover the four of us, and we spent a good half hour relaxing beneath its spray. By the time we’d finished, my mana had dipped noticeably. We’d melted the snow in a wide area around us, and there was only a little left to step over to reach the tent.

I eyed the tent warily. “You go first, Lira,” I murmured to her. “Anya knows you best.”

Despite Anya’s earlier comments, the sudden arrival of four naked people was going to push the boundaries of propriety. I really should’ve sourced an additional tent, and I wondered if we might be able to trade for one in the villages we passed. Arik had given us Saromiran gold for the supplies we’d need on the trip home, and he’d been more than generous.

So concerned I was that I hardly noticed Lira’s naked bottom as she crawled into the tent, but her exclamation of surprise pulled my attention back swiftly.

“Oh, Anya!” she said, having stopped halfway in, her bare feet poking back out. “Come and see this!”

Senna and Elara rushed forward, half out of curiosity and half because it was damn cold out here.

They crowded in after Lira, echoing her gasps, which piqued my own curiosity.

I killed the water and brought up my resistance rune, allowing me to ignore the cold and make the walk with the decorum befitting a god. Despite Anya’s assurances, I went by way of my discarded clothing, and pulled on some underwear. None of the girls had remerged, so I gathered up their clothes before entering the tent.

I blinked as I entered, and it took me a moment for my brain to catch up with what I was seeing. The furs we slept beneath were spread over a wide area of floor, more like a thick carpet. The girls were bouncing on a four-poster bed with an enormous mattress—though there was no sign of Anya. Instead, there were two doors, one left open to show the distinctive white tiles of a well-appointed bathroom suite, while off in one corner was another door, firmly closed.

It was tempting to stick my head back out of the tent and confirm its dimensions hadn’t changed, but I knew what I would see. This was all illusion; Anya had been busy.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Senna asked, bouncing carefree on the bed. It made her breasts jiggle distractingly.

I didn’t answer, but crossed to the closed door and knocked twice. “Anya? Are you all right in there?”

“Fine.” A one-word answer, bluntly delivered.

“Is it taxing you to maintain this?”

“It’s fine.” That made two ‘fines’.

“It won’t collapse in the middle of the night?”

“No … it’s fine.”

“Well … thank you. This is lovely.”

No reply to that one.

“Come to bed, Kaelan,” Lira called me, and I turned away from Anya’s door, but not before I heard what I thought was a squeak of embarrassment.

There was probably a good chance Anya was busy adding sound proofing to her illusion—if such a thing were an option.

I’d intended to go easy on Anya and just get some sleep, but no sooner had I reached the bed than three pairs of hands dragged me onto it. Lying between my girls on such an enormous mattress made any thoughts of sleep fade quickly, for they all wanted to play.

I hoped Anya had managed to soundproof her room, because if she hadn’t, there could be little doubt she’d have heard everything.

Chapter Thirty-One

“Morning,” Lira said brightly when Anya eventually emerged from the tent. “There’s some porridge. Did you sleep well?”

The rest of us had been up for a little while. We’d made breakfast and readied the horses.

“Fine,” Anya said, not making eye contact. Or maybe she’d looked at Lira, but she certainly wasn’t looking at me.

“We’ll collapse the tent while you eat,” Elara said to her, “and then we can head off. Is there anything we need to know about the illusion?”

She shook her head. “I’ve dispelled it already.”

“Thank you.” Elara gave her a smile. “It was lovely, by the way.”

Anya’s cheeks tinged red with her blush, and she looked down, focusing hard on her porridge. I don’t think Elara noticed as she’d already turned away. I went to help Elara and Lira with the tent, assuming Anya would probably appreciate the privacy.

It had snowed overnight, but the sky was clear when we set off. Another beautiful day, and we made good time down the road. Elara and I were up front; Senna, riding in the middle again, often humming a tune or off in her own world; while Lira and Anya rode together at the back of the group, talking quietly. I caught only one snippet early on, when Lira said, “My magic helps the other girls with that,” then the thud of our hooves made further eavesdropping impossible.

Shame. It sounded like an intriguing conversation.

Instead, I turned to Elara. “How are you today?”

“I am good. Ready to be home again, and warm again, but good.”

“I didn’t think you felt the cold.”

“Oh, I feel it, but only to a point. No shivering, no need to curl up in a ball.” She gave a smile. “I think the artifact protects me from all the negative effects, but not from the sensation, if that makes sense?”

“It does. And how has the artifact been? Anything from Talene?”

“Yes, actually. I’d been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t get the chance and then it slipped my mind. She apologized to me.”

I glanced at her in surprise. “She apologized?”

“Yes. On the night Arik was captured and the guards came. I think fighting the Saromirans without lethal force may have served as a catalyst, but she said she was sorry for taking control, for assuming she knew what I wanted, and for letting you down.”

“Letting me down?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Fair enough.”

We rode in silence for a moment or two.

“Anything since?” I asked.

“No, just that. I’ll let you know if there’s anything more, but I think she’s decided to take a more … dormant approach.”

“Well, that’s probably for the best,” I said. “I’d rather have you as … well, you.”

Elara reached out and grasped my hand, and for a while we rode hand-in-hand—which was sweet, but rather quickly became uncomfortable, no matter how close we tried to bring the horses.

She released me after a half-mile or so. “What about you, Kaelan? Are you good?”

“Pretty good,” I nodded slowly. “The threat to Valorah is no more, there’s no army on our doorstep, Morvak turned out to be an ally and not a foe, and all of you are healthy and well and with me.” I gave her a smile, then said again, “Pretty good.”

“What about Anya?” she asked, lowering her voice. It wasn’t really needed; Lira and Anya had fallen so far behind they’d never have heard.

“Anya is welcome to stay as long as she wishes. She’s become a friend.”

“Just a friend?”

I glanced over at her. Elara was smiling.

“Just a friend,” I said slowly, then narrowed my eyes at her. “You sound like Lira.”

“Meaning?”

“When she was trying to get me to take you to bed.”

Elara’s smile widened into a grin, and there was no sign of her blushing. “And let that be a lesson to you, my God: always listen to your High Priestess.”

I laughed. “I’ve learned that one already.”

We rode on in companionable silence for a few moments.

“Anya likes you, though,” Elara continued after a while.

“She likes Lira,” I replied. “I’m sure their bond is the main reason Anya is here.”

“Um … I don’t think so,” Elara said. “I mean, she does like Lira—who doesn’t?—but that’s not the reason she’s here. She’s here because you make her feel safe.”

I shrugged. “With the powers she has, she can make herself safe.”

“Now, perhaps, yes … but it’s been a tough eighteen months for her.” She glanced at me. “We spoke a great deal yesterday. Did you know the shamans bound her when she was first summoned?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I knew that. She told me.” For that alone, they had deserved to die. “To be honest, I figured she’d want her freedom after all she’s been through. You know—go off by herself, see some of the world, do whatever she wanted.”

“She’s very lonely,” Elara said. “Eighteen months of living in fear, with no friends until Lira arrived.”

“Well … yes, I suppose so.” I hadn’t thought of that. I glanced back to where she rode beside Lira, their heads close together as they talked. They were almost a hundred yards behind us, and for a moment I felt it was too far. Something could happen. But there was no one around; we’d see them coming from a mile off, and neither Lira nor Anya were powerless. Far from it—and they’d defend each other, too.

I checked on Senna while I was turned in my saddle, and she gave me a smile as we made eye contact. As happy as ever.

Then I looked at Elara, who was watching me. Her riding posture was perfect, her martial blue robes really brought out the blue of her eyes and set off her blonde hair. She was so beautiful. They all were.

Beautiful and capable, and as dangerous as could be.

“What are you thinking about?” Elara asked.

“Just how far we’ve come, and how much stronger we are for it. And how much I love you all.”

She smiled at me, her eyes sparkling in the winter sun. “We all love you too, Kaelan.”

That evening, Anya was quiet during dinner, but the rest of the girls made up for it with happy conversation.

Then Lira abruptly cut through it all. “Kaelan, when are you going to marry Elara?”

Senna had been talking, and her words dried up, but her mouth stayed open as her gaze flicked from Lira to me.

Elara dropped her spoon. It glanced off the side of her bowl and fell to the ground.

Even Anya froze, before resuming eating again as though it was none of her business.

Elara picked her spoon up, her face red, and she didn’t look at me.

“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “Elara and I haven’t discussed it yet. It depends if she wants a ceremony, or something quiet.”

“A ceremony when we get home?” Lira asked, her excitement rising.

“Something quiet,” Elara said firmly. She saw me watching her, and gave a small shrug and smile. “We’ve done the ceremony thing already.”

“Have you asked her?” Anya spoke for the first time, drawing all eyes. She blushed under the sudden attention, but lifted her chin in determination. “A girl should be asked.”

“He didn’t ask me,” Senna said. “He just told me it was going to happen and spanked me until I had no choice but to agree.”

Anya stared at her, then turned on me with a glare.

“Er … it didn’t quite happen like that,” I muttered.

“Yes it did,” Senna insisted. “You pinned me naked across your lap, spanking me while Lira watched, and⁠—”

“He asked us both in the pyramid,” Lira interrupted firmly. “You wanted to say yes, but you held out until you got your spanking.”

“It was worth it,” Senna said dreamily, and played with the ring on her finger.

I cleared my throat. “No, Anya, I haven’t asked Elara yet.”

“But you’re going to?” Anya insisted. Then her eyes narrowed. “Or are you just going to spank her into submission?”

“Happy either way,” Elara muttered, and shot me a wink. Anya gave a choked gasp.

“Why not both!” Senna clapped her hands. “Like me!”

I tried to resist the urge to face-palm. It was difficult. “I will ask Elara when the time is right,” I said firmly, trying to get some control of this chaotic conversation. It was between me and her, after all, and not a subject for general discussion.

“Oh, good,” Senna said. “It’ll be soon, then.”

So much for the illusion of control. Having multiple wives was complicated, especially when they ganged up on me.

“I think I’ll go to bed.” Anya set her bowl down and rose. “And I think you might all be a little crazy.”

“A little?” Senna asked.

“I meant them,” Anya said, with a wave of her hand that encompassed the rest of us. “There’s no denying you’re totally nuts, Senna.”

My assassin shrugged. She didn’t seem put out, either. “Don’t you want a hot shower?”

Anya seemed to hesitate, then walked off toward the tent, shaking her head and muttering.

Senna turned to me with a grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Since we’re asking the fun questions, when are you going to fuck Anya, Kaelan?”

I glanced in reflex toward Anya, who had frozen half into the tent. She gave a little muffled squeak, then the tent flap closed behind her.

I raised an eyebrow at Lira.

“What?” my High Priestess asked.

“Since both Elara and Senna have now made their positions clear, I was wondering why you hadn’t.”

“Oh. Well, I thought it was obvious, wasn’t it?”

The following morning, Anya surprised me by riding up front with me.

We traveled in silence for a while. It was snowing, but only lightly, the flakes drifting down around us, muffling all the sound.

“How’s the riding coming?” I asked after a while. “You look more comfortable in the saddle.”

“Thank you, I am. Partly because yesterday, Lira—” She broke off suddenly, and glanced away. The sides of her hood hid her face.

“Lira healed you?” I said, amused. “Damn, you must be special. She didn’t heal Senna or me when we learned to ride. My legs and ass were sore for days.”

Anya was quiet, fiddling with her reins, and I let the silence linger. We had nothing but time, after all.

“Your ladies are all very special,” she said after a while. “Even Senna is amazing in her own way.”

“She’s lethal,” I agreed. “Don’t let her playful demeanor confuse you; she’s an incredibly talented assassin.” I felt it was important for Anya to know that. There’d been some teasing between them, and I didn’t want Senna to be underestimated or undervalued.

“You told me,” Anya replied. “Back in the pyramid.”

I nodded. I’d forgotten.

“Fitting for a god to surround himself with such women,” Anya continued. There was something in her tone, but I couldn’t place it.

“It all happened by accident,” I said honestly. “Lira summoned me … Senna we sort of inherited … Elara swore an oath.”

Anya stared at me. “You inherited Senna?”

“She came with a house,” I muttered.

“Oh, like the sofa,” Anya said dryly. “Yes, that makes perfect sense.”

I winced. It sounded even worse when put like that. But then, it always had been bad. Now that I was King of Valorah and there were no immediate threats to deal with, maybe it was time to change the rules a bit.

“Corthos is … barbaric in comparison to what you and I are used to.”

“And if you can’t beat them, join them, right?”

I glanced across at her, my irritation rising. “It was complicated. I didn’t choose to have Senna, but if I’d turned her away, she’d have been homeless.”

“So you took her as your wife instead? After you’d spanked her?”

My irritation flared. “I don’t need to justify my private life to you, Anya. The girls and I are happy with where we are, and what we’ve been through.”

“Three women?” she shot back. “Of course you’re happy.”

I glared at her. “You’ve spoken at length to Lira. You spent the first day riding with Elara. Do either of them seem unhappy to you?”

She hesitated for a moment, then her jaw firmed with her usual defiance. “I haven’t spoken to Senna.”

I gestured behind me. “She’s right there. Be my guest.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

Her eyes flashed angrily at me, and she reined in her horse. I rode on, seething, letting her drop back until Senna caught up with her.

So yes, Anya came from the same world as me, where the relationship I had with my girls might be deemed ‘unconventional’, but it wasn’t atypical for Corthos. Hell, both Valorah and Saromir practiced polygamy. Elara had told me the elves did, too—often the other way around, as some women had multiple husbands.

When in Rome … but we weren’t in Rome. We were about as far from Rome as it was possible to get.

Where did Anya get off in judging me on that basis?

I loved all my girls. It bothered me I hadn’t yet asked Elara to marry me, but hell—when had there been the chance? We were happy as we were, anyway. The marriage thing was just a label. It didn’t even bring any tax benefits.

I hunched down in my saddle, pulling my cloak around me, and watched the snowflakes drift down. It was strangely calming, and in minutes I was no longer as angry. I rode alone, Senna and Anya talking some ways behind me, and I was happy to let them.

For some reason, Anya had always been a bit colder to Senna—which was odd, when they each reminded me of the other. Both about the same age, both younger than Lira and Elara. Both brown haired and slim, though Anya was taller. And both had been through a horrific experience before I’d encountered them, and come out stronger for it.

I hoped they’d be friends, but so far, that hadn’t transpired. Maybe this talk they were having was long overdue.

We stopped for lunch, which was a quiet and somewhat prickly affair, Elara and Lira glancing between us with concerned expressions. When we hit the road again, Anya once more chose to ride with Senna, and I took that as a positive. Maybe they were communicating.

They slipped further and further back, until there was hardly any gap between them and the girls at the rear, and I was up front all alone. But I wasn’t feeling lonely; my mood had eased, and it was nice to ride through the steppes in the silence. Snowy landscapes never got old. Especially with my resistance rune ticking away in the background, keeping the cold out.

Midafternoon, I was disturbed from my reverie by the sound of a horse approaching from behind, and Anya trotted up, pulling alongside.

I said nothing, keeping my eyes forward.

“I owe you an apology.”

I shrugged.

“It’s just … you see a man like you … full of power … women falling at his feet … and you think⁠—”

“Think what you like, Anya. You don’t owe me anything, least of all your approval.”

“That’s not what I meant, dammit.” She gave an exasperated sigh, and fell quiet. Then she gave another, gentler sigh, and tried again. “I’ve done everything wrong with you, haven’t I?”

I turned to her, but my hood got in the way, hiding half my view. I pulled it back. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t answer straight away, just rode quietly. After a moment, I stopped staring at her, but left my hood down. It would likely collect some snowflakes within, but that didn’t matter.

“I’m twenty-four years old,” she said, breaking the silence some minutes later. “My mother kept telling me I should be married when I was still twenty-two, back on Earth.” She gave a laugh and shook her head. “Eighteen months on this god-forsaken world—” She stopped abruptly, realizing what she’d said, then continued with a quieter voice. I still heard every word clearly. “Well, gods or not, we’re here, and we’re not getting home, are we?”

“No,” I said. “We’re not.”

To do that, we’d have to win the contest, and that could take years—even if it were possible. And frankly, I didn’t have much interest in trying. I was quite content as I was.

“Then the first man I see in eighteen months is you.”

“No Saromirans?”

“At first, the shamans kept me too busy. Then I saw how the Saromirans treated their women, and I kept away from them.”

“You said they cherish them.”

“Not what I mean.” She frowned, trying to find the words. “They wouldn’t see me as an equal. Not like Elara and Lira—” Another sigh. “Not like you treat your women.”

Well, I was glad she’d recognized that, at least. “And Senna?”

“Senna too.” Anya surprised me by giving a small laugh. “She’s actually very funny. Wicked sense of humor.” She glanced across at me. “She told me about Jarek.”

“Old news, now,” I muttered. “Though I’d rather enjoy watching Senna run into him again.”

“We should probably arrange it,” Anya said, only half-joking.

I grinned at the thought. Some might even call it ‘therapy’.

“But you were talking about you,” I prompted.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I was.” Another little sigh. “It just doesn’t seem fair.”

“What doesn’t seem fair?”

“That the first man I run into on this world that I actually like is out to kill me. And then it turns out you’re not, and Lira spoke so well of you. And then … I saw you … and it’s like that Alanis Morissette song, you know? ‘Meeting the man of my dreams, after I’d met his beautiful wife’?” She sighed again. I said nothing, giving her time. “For a while, I tried to persuade myself I only liked you because you weren’t Saromiran. Then it was because you were from Earth. Then because of how you answered, back in the office. Then, because you agreed to help me.” She paused again, taking a moment before continuing. “The problem was, all those reasons kept adding up. Yet you already have two wives, and a third on the way—how’s that for irony?”

“Unfortunate,” I agreed. “Sorry for it.”

“Yeah,” she said, wistfully. “Me too.”

“Plenty of other fish in the sea?”

“Too late for that,” she said as she turned her horse. “And I never learned how to fish.”

She rode back to rejoin Senna, and I let her go.

Chapter Thirty-Two

That evening, Anya didn’t leave to hide in the tent when Senna demanded her hot shower.

I gave her plenty of opportunity, but she remained sitting resolutely on her log, staring into the fire. All three girls were halfway through stripping, and getting cold, and it wasn’t fair to leave them any longer.

I pushed myself up, and bent to untie my boots. “Hot shower coming up, then,” I said, making it damn clear.

She still didn’t move. Or look up.

“Are you going to join us, Anya?” Lira asked as she pulled her kirtle off.

No response.

I subtly shook my head at Lira, and walked further away than usual before I pulled off the rest of my clothes and brought up the rune. The girls ran over to join me, gasping at the cold, then gave their usual sighs of pleasure as the warm water cascaded over us. The bar of soap was already looking thin, and we still had weeks on the road. It would have to be replaced soon.

When we’d finished, Anya’s log was empty, and I hadn’t noticed her leave.

The following evening, she again stayed seated, but this time I caught her watching us as we showered. She saw me looking and her cheeks blushed even more vividly crimson than they already were—perhaps she thought I wouldn’t notice in the dark, but she didn’t know about my night vision.

She stayed and watched it all. Not just the washing, either, for the girls tended to get handsy—both with me and each other. Anya rose with a start only when the girls began to go for the tent, hurrying ahead to set her illusions within. In the end, we all entered close together, and she muttered a ‘good night’ before going into her room, and closing the door. There was a brief glimpse of a plain, single bed in a stark and spartan room.

Nothing obvious to suggest sound proofing, but then she could’ve been using magic—it didn’t need to be physical.

For the next two nights, she retired early, as she had before, and I wondered if she’d seen enough. She avoided me on the road, but after our last conversation, I didn’t mind. I recognized that I made her uncomfortable, and if she preferred not to have my presence rubbed in her face—so to speak—I was fine with that. Instead, the other girls took turns to ride with me, and I even caught up with Senna.

“Anya is very confused,” my little assassin announced, her voice, as usual, incapable of a ‘discreet’ setting.

I glanced back over my shoulder, but Anya was quite far back with Lira on one side of her, and Elara on the other.

“About?” I responded.

“You, of course,” Senna said, as though I was daft. “What else is there?”

“Calculus,” I said dryly. “You want confusing? You want calculus.”

Senna wisely chose to ignore that, which was an ironic reversal of affairs.

“I really think you two should just fuck and get it over with. The tension between you both is melting the snow for miles.”

I observed the unblemished white landscape through which we traveled, and decided that might be an exaggeration. “I’m not what Anya needs.”

“You are,” Senna said firmly. “The silly girl just doesn’t know what she needs.”

“This kind of life isn’t for everyone,” I said. “Some people prefer monogamous partners.”

“What does that mean?”

A telling question. “One partner. For life.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Er … they just do.”

“They still sleep with others though, right?”

“No … that’s kind of the point.”

“Oh. Just the two of them?”

“Yes.”

“Every time?”

“Yes.”

She thought about it for a while, then shook her head. “Nah. It’s nice when it’s just you and me, but I like it when Lira and Elara join us. I like watching you fuck them into exhaustion, and I like licking them afterwards.”

I gave a strangled cough. Conversations with Senna were always something else.

“Anya would like it too,” Senna mused. “I bet she’d enjoy licking Lira.” She gave me a big smile, and wheeled her horse. “I know! I’ll suggest it to her!”

“Senna! Get back here.”

It took her a moment to get her horse back under control, and the poor beast whickered in protest.

“Leave Anya be on this,” I said warningly, then changed the subject to something safer. “I think we need to find a village. We’re running low on supplies.”

“There’re plenty of deer.”

“True, but not much in the way of vegetables. And we need more soap.”

“Oh yeah, I was going to point that out last night, but you made me forget when you⁠—”

“Didn’t we see a village near here somewhere on our way to Krennar?” I asked quickly. I pulled up my map, but it only showed the areas in and around where I’d actually been. It didn’t draw in villages we’d seen but not visited. Then I saw the decent sized town we’d passed through was only another day away. “There’s one we’ll reach tomorrow.”

“Oh. Well, that’s covers that, then. I’ll tell the others, and we can make a list.”

“Good idea.”

That evening, we sat around the fire planning a shopping excursion while Lira made a list.

“More oats and barley,” Elara said. “The horses are doing all right because they graze on the grass after the showers, but we do need more.”

“Soap,” Senna added firmly, the mention of showers reminding her.

“Towels,” Anya said, then shrugged as everyone looked at her. “You always come in wet.”

“Can’t you illusion up towels in the tent?” Lira paused halfway through writing it down.

Anya blinked. “Well, fuck. Yes, I could. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.”

Lira drew a line through it with a wink at our resident illusionist.

“I need more woolen socks,” Senna lamented. “My feet are always cold.”

“Yes, please,” Anya added quickly.

“Me too,” Lira said, writing it down and underlining it.

The ideas took some time to stop flowing, and by that point Lira had quite the list.

“Do we have enough gold for this?” Lira asked.

“I can just illusion up gold,” Anya offered.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Does it last once we leave?”

“Er … no?”

“We have enough gold,” I said firmly.

“Sorry.” She muttered something under her breath, and looked down.

“It’s fine,” I assured her, “but I don’t want to steal from these folks. Not when we have the money, and I’m sure it would make more difference to them than it will to us.”

“Sorry,” Anya said again, abashed. “You’re right, of course.”

“Shower time?” Lira said with extra enthusiasm, trying to change the mood.

Anya looked up. “Actually, if you don’t mind, could we try something different? I had an idea.”

Senna glared at her, as if Anya had proposed taking away her favorite puppy. Elara raised an eyebrow and even Lira hesitated.

“Of course,” I said smoothly, before Anya was lynched. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well … the shower is nice, but it’s not very practical is it?” She was warming to her theme, looking decidedly smug, and oblivious to the glares she was receiving from Senna.

“Go on,” I said, smiling.

“Have your ladies ever visited a hot tub?”

I grinned. “I’m pretty sure they haven’t.”

“Isn’t that a bath?” Lira asked. “We’ve had baths. If we had one, we could fill it with snow and Kaelan could melt it.”

“Why don’t you show them,” I said to Anya.

She gave me a pleased smile and didn’t even bother getting up, merely closed her eyes where she sat, then opened them again and stared at a patch of flat ground not too far from the tent. It was fascinating to watch her cast an illusion before us, but it turned out there was little to see of the process itself.

A moment later, a large, modern hot tub arrived, to my amusement, complete with retractable cover which was already resting on its hinges against one side of the tub. It was at least an eight-seater, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it was made of plastic. Water bubbled within, steam rising off it. There were even some steps leading up to it.

“That is one damn big bath!” Lira said in amazement, staring at it.

I gave a laugh of delight. “How are you getting it to bubble? Have you made jets?”

“No … I made holes, and then I’m constantly pushing air in.”

“Brilliant.” I gave her a grin. “But I thought you couldn’t make real water?”

“No, I said you can’t drink it—or you can, but it wouldn’t stop you dying of thirst. You can certainly bathe in it though.”

Tonight, I was the first one up, and pulling my clothes off. Anya had already seen me naked, and I wasn’t going to let that stop me sitting in a hot tub for as long as the water stayed warm. Knowing Anya, that could be all evening if we wanted it.

The other girls weren’t far behind me, and in moments we were all lowering ourselves into the water, sighing in pleasure. There was plenty of room for all of us within, but Senna still tried to sit on my lap. I pushed her off beside me, then slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, and she settled for the downgrade only because I let her lean her head on my shoulder.

Anya came over, resting her elbows on the side of the hot tub and smiling as she watched us. The bubbles obscured nearly everything, but she’d never come so close before.

“There’s room for you too,” Lira said to her. “I think it’s time you joined us, don’t you?”

“No bikini,” Anya muttered.

“Illusion one up,” I said. “Can you do more than one illusion at a time?”

“I can do two,” Anya said with a sigh, “but I already am. The bubbles are separate to the tub and the water.”

“Drop the bubbles and do the bikini.”

“Oh, I like the bubbles!” Senna said quickly, then eeped as I pinched her.

Anya smiled at her softly. “I’ll leave the bubbles,” she said, then to our surprise, she began to disrobe.

For some reason, I’d thought she be shy, but she wasn’t. She pulled her kirtle off before removing her boots, then lifted her undershirt over her head, revealing her nakedness to all of us. The girls watched with open curiosity, and Anya made no attempt to hide herself. Then she walked up the small staircase, stepped over the side and into the water, and stood on the seat—the water up to mid-calf, the rest of her exposed—as she looked for where she wanted to sit.

It was like she was displaying herself deliberately, and with such an invitation, it would be rude to look away.

She had more curve to her hips than Senna did, but only just. Her breasts weren’t as large as Elara’s or Lira’s, but they weren’t far off, and just like I remembered from seeing her in her blouse in the office illusion, they were as firm and perky as could be. The kirtle she wore hid all that. Her nipples stood out, pointing almost upwards, and goosebumps played across her skin as I watched—presumably from the cold. Just like all my girls, she was smooth and bare between her thighs, not a hair in sight. She’d seen them naked of course, and I wondered if she’d borrowed Senna’s tweezers for this moment, or merely illusioned herself up a beauty salon. But whether she preferred it that way herself, or had done it to fit in, I very much appreciated the end result.

Lira moved over, making plenty of room in the corner opposite me. “Would you like to sit here?”

Anya gave her a smile, stepping down into the deeper water in the middle of the tub, then sitting in the corner seat with a contended sigh, the water up to her chin.

“This is nice,” she breathed, her eyes closed. “I once visited Iceland, and there was an outside hot tub, very much like this one. Snow all around, too.”

“Sounds romantic,” I said.

“Not particularly.” She smiled without opening her eyes. “I was twelve, and with my family.”

“Well, this is lovely all the same.”

“Wouldn’t this be the damndest time for a Saromiran warband to turn up?” Elara remarked, making me grin, as such comments were usually more Senna’s domain.

“We’d have to kill them all to keep our secrets safe,” Senna said.

Yep, that was more what I’d expect from her.

“I could dispel the illusion in an instant,” Anya said quietly, her words almost lost in the noise of the bubbles. “We’d be deposited naked on our asses in the snow, and they’d be laughing too hard to be a threat.”

“Or you could just kill the bubbles and use your second illusion to turn us invisible.”

“Can’t do invisibility. I’ve tried. I have to paint something, and I can’t paint nothing.”

“A rock, then.”

“That would work,” she said, smiling. “After staring at me like that, you’re probably as hard as⁠—”

Her eyes snapped open, and she blushed crimson, glancing away.

Lira cleared her throat, then stood up in the water. “Well, I’m tired,” she said. “Tent for me.”

“Oh, yes, me too,” Elara said unconvincingly, rising quickly to follow as Lira climbed out.

Senna snuggled in closer against me, one hand pressing against my chest.

“Senna?” Lira said, outside the tub and already beginning to shiver. “Come and dry me off, please?”

“But the tub is⁠—”

“There’ll be other times.”

“But you can⁠—”

“Now, please. I’m getting cold.”

My snuggly assassin gave a chagrined huff, but slipped away from my side and climbed out to join the others.

In a moment, they were in the tent, whispering, out of sight if not out of hearing, leaving Anya and I alone, naked, and in a hot tub together.

Anya chewed her lower lip. “Your girls always get what they want?”

“Pretty much,” I said with a shrug. “Sorry about that. They can be … determined. Even worse when they work as one.”

She gave a small smile, and watched me for a long moment while the bubbles caressed our skin.

“Would I … wanted … one … your girls?” Her voice was so quiet I could barely hear her, and I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me, or muttering to herself.

I moved closer to her, taking a seat one away from hers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that."

She was quiet for so long, I didn’t think she’d intended her comment for me. Then she spoke again. “I said, would I get what I wanted, if I were one of your girls?”

“Something tells me you’re already quite capable of getting what you want.”

She gave a little laugh. “Nice sentiment, but I think we can safely say that’s not at all true.”

“Maybe not in the past, but now?” I gestured at the hot tub. “Icelandic resorts have you marked as a major threat.”

“Illusions don’t control people,” she said with a note of regret.

“You have your mind control powers for that.”

She looked at me in alarm. “But I haven’t … I never—” She took a breath, then looked steadily into my eyes. “I promise you, I have never attempted to manipulate your emotions, and I never will either.”

I lifted a hand from the water. “I wasn’t suggesting you had. Forgive me, it was bad timing for that comment. I was thinking only of your wider powers, and your ability to influence the world around you.”

“I never use it unless I have to,” she muttered, looking away. “It makes me feel like … like I’m a shaman.” The last word was dripping with her disgust and scorn.

“They’re gone, you know,” I said gently. “They’re dead, and they’re not coming back. Whatever binding they might have had on you is gone too.”

“Others could do the same.”

“Only if they knew who you were, and where you were.”

“True.” She nodded. “You did what you said you would; you helped me. You made me safe.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “I owe you for that.”

“You owe me nothing.” I shook my head. “There’s no ledger between us.”

“You helped me when I asked you to.”

“And you saved Lira from Tarkon before that.”

Her expression reflected her uncertainty. “I thought … I thought you’d want …”

“Want what?”

“Paying.” The word was barely a breath against the water.

“Oh,” I said. “Yes, of course. Let’s see … five shamans at fifty gold a head, less the two hundred that you earned by keeping Lira safe. I’ll throw in Tarkon and Raloth for free. Then there’s expenses ... wear on boots and the like … Oh but wait, you did arrange for a night at the Lazy Tailor when we needed that, so … what do you think that was worth?”

She stared at me, then blinked twice. “You’re not like other men I’ve known.”

“If the other men you’ve known wanted payment for everything they did, then either they were electricians, or I feel very sorry for them.”

She took another long moment to respond, almost Saromiran-like. “I thought you’d want to claim your reward from me.”

Again I shook my head, and looked away from her. “You owe me nothing, and I’m not playing this game, Anya.”

“What game?” There was hurt in her voice.

“You’re trying to find an excuse for being with me. That’s why you’ve spoken to all the girls, that’s why this hot tub tonight, and the … accounting. A justification to get past your morals that won’t let you see a possible relationship because I already have wives. I get it, I do, but I’m sorry. I’m not interested.”

She swallowed hard, the sound loud enough to hear above the noise of bubbles. “You make me feel clumsy and naïve.”

I shrugged. “Sorry. Not my problem.”

She took a shuddering breath, then let it out. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger, defiant, with a tinge of her anger. “Fine. I get it. You don’t want me, I get it. But for the record, you were only half right. I spoke to the girls for the same reason I interviewed you in the office—to understand who you were.”

“I never said I didn’t want you. And on the subject of ‘for the record’—you could’ve just asked me what you wanted to know.”

“Men lie,” she said bitterly.

“So do women. Besides, you can tell, can’t you?”

She winced. “Yes. Yes, I can tell.”

“And have I?”

“Have you what?”

“Ever lied to you.”

“No…”

“And I won’t,” I said. “Unless you ask me if these bubbles make you look fat.”

She blinked. “You think I’m fat?”

I gave her a look. “There’s not a spare ounce of body fat anywhere on you, as far as I could see when you got in the tub.” It was my turn to narrow my eyes. “Is this your true form, or another illusion?”

“It’s me,” she said quietly. “Tub and bubbles, right? Just two illusions.”

I shrugged. She could’ve been lying, and maintaining this one too, but I didn’t think she was.

She chewed her lip again. “Would it make a difference if I looked like someone else?”

“Well, it would be a little freaky if you looked like that old woman you do, and I never found Morvak attractive.”

She gave a short laugh, and shook her head. “You can’t stay serious for more than a minute, can you?”

I shrugged. “It was the conversation that was getting serious.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “And I fucked it up yet again, didn’t I? Can I have another chance?”

I cocked my head to one side, contemplating her. She was trying, that much was obvious, but did she understand? I didn’t think she did, and I couldn’t afford to bring someone like that into the intimacy of our family.

“One more chance,” I said, wondering if I should’ve already walked away. It felt cruel to toy with her.

“You make this so hard,” she muttered, half to herself, the words almost lost in the bubbles.

But after the games she’d played, I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. She had to come to this herself—I didn’t want another relationship with a power discrepancy like I’d had with each of the other girls. She had to get passed her own baggage, and that was for her to do, and her alone.

I waited, saying nothing.

She took another breath and let it out. “All right. I acknowledge I went about this entirely the wrong way. Let me be as open as you.” She cleared her throat. “I would like to … join your group. If I may. If you’d let me.”

It sounded like she wanted to play D&D on a Friday night. “Join my group?” I said, trying to keep the smile away. I wasn’t sure I’d entirely succeeded.

“Now you’re teasing me, dammit.”

“Not at all,” I said, grinning. “You do realize you’ve already joined our group, right? You’re traveling with us. Sharing a tent with us. Eating our⁠—”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” I said seriously. “But do you know what you mean?”

“I’m asking to become one of your girls,” she said, her breath catching at the end of her words. “There, I said it, okay? I want to be with you. With Lira and the others, too. I want to be part of your … family. Your group.”

I searched her eyes, not finding what I was looking for. “Why?”

“Why?” She blinked in surprise. “After all that, after making me jump through all those damn hoops, you have the temerity to ask why?”

“Yes. ‘Why’ is important. So, why?”

“Because … because …” She looked away, confusion and hurt in her expression.

“It’s a simple question, Anya,” I said gently. “It’s not a trap, it’s not a rejection. I would like to know why.”

“You say it’s not a rejection, but if I get the answer wrong, it will be.”

“Not if you’re honest.”

She swung back around to face me, the water sloshing across her bare shoulders. “Because I feel safe with you, okay? Because I want to keep feeling safe. I like it. I don’t want to feel in danger any more.”

I nodded. “You sure? That’s all?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Isn’t that enough?” The hurt deepened in her eyes, but I didn’t let it sway me.

“All right, Anya,” I said wearily. “I respect you and admire you enough to make you a promise. I will always try to keep you safe, as best I can, and help you whenever you need me to help you. You can stay with us in Norathil for as long as you want. You can have the safety you desire.”

I turned away from her confused expression and rose, wading through the water toward the steps.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Wait!” Anya cried behind me. “Kaelan, please!”

The pain in her voice was so raw that I couldn’t walk away. I turned to face her, but said nothing.

There were tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “Do you want me to beg, is that it? I’ll beg if you want me to beg.”

“I don’t want you to beg, Anya,” I said. “What is there to beg for anyway? I just gave you what you asked for.”

“It’s not what I wanted,” she whispered.

“So what do you want? I just want you to be honest.”

“I want … I want you.”

I took a step closer, lowering to one knee before her in the water. “Then why?” I asked her firmly. “Last chance.”

“Because … because you said ‘partners’ and ‘friends’ and ‘allies’, and I said yes. And … and because you’re gorgeous … and because of how happy the girls are with you, and I want some of that too—even though I probably don’t deserve it. And yes, dammit, because you make me feel safe too, and I want to wrap you around me like a blanket. And I want to be with you, and give myself to you and … and … because I’m so lonely, and you’re the only god-damned person on this entire fucking planet that I want to be with! That’s why!”

The tears in her eyes had spilled over and ran down her cheeks; but she didn’t wipe them away, she just stared up at me, having fully bared her soul.

And I supposed I’d pushed for that. I hadn’t been kind.

I reached up with both hands and brushed her tears away with my thumbs. My hands were wet: it wasn’t a great improvement for how dry her skin was. Maybe the gesture mattered more.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry that was so painful.”

She blinked at me and swallowed a sob. “That was it? You just wanted me to …” Her expression changed from confusion to anger in the blink of an eye. “You made me tell you everything, you bastard!”

My lips twitched. I liked her fiery side—so sue me. “You tried to manipulate me,” I reminded her. “I had to be sure.”

“Why?” She deliberately threw my word back at me. “Come on, tell me why that was necessary!”

“Because if I took you into” —I couldn’t help my grin— “our group, and you came in just wanting to be ‘safe’, you’d be there for the wrong reasons. You’d want to leave, just as soon as someone else came along that caught your eye and offered safety. Or when you realized you didn’t need me to be safe—you don’t, by the way, but that doesn’t change my promise to you. If I said yes for those reasons—or worse, out of some sense of ‘payment’—it would be wrong. You wouldn’t be happy. The group wouldn’t be happy. If I were a bachelor in a small English town outside of London somewhere, I’d have probably said yes. But I’m not. I have Elara and Senna and Lira to think about, too. And so the answer was no.”

Her anger drained away as she listened. “That … that actually makes a lot of sense.”

“All I wanted was for you to be honest.” My lips twitched despite myself. “And you were certainly that, in the end.”

“Was it enough?” she asked, searching my gaze. “Is it a ‘yes’ now?”

“It was perfect,” I told her. “And it’s a yes.”

She shook her head in amazement. “You bastard. I’ve never had to beg someone to take me to bed before.”

Looking at her, in that moment, so beautiful and vulnerable, it was easy to believe.

She slid off her seat and into my arms, her breasts pushing into my chest. I fell back against the hot tub seats with her wrapped around me, straddling me. Her slippery body writhed against mine as she hungrily sought my lips, pushing her hands into my hair as she kissed me. I opened to her as she aggressively sought my tongue, moaning into my mouth, gripping my waist with her thighs as though she wanted to pull my body inside her own.

I returned her kiss, surprised by the vehemence of her passion but liking it, and slid my hands down her back to cup her tight ass. She ground her hips against mine, her sex open and slick as it rubbed over my rapidly rising cock.

“I’ve wanted you since that day in the pyramid,” she breathed, pulling my head back by my hair to trail kisses along my jaw line, tickling my beard. “So fucking gorgeous.” She rubbed her hips against mine, teasing my hardness with her pussy.

“That’s my line,” I said, and now I knew she liked a bit of hair pulling.

On her too?

I slid my fingers up the nape of her neck, wedging them into her thick tresses, then tugged her back sharply, exposing her throat to me. She gave a cute little gasp, then moaned as I kissed her neck. As soon as I relaxed my hold, she cupped my face with both hands, seeking my mouth with hers and probing for my tongue.

So that was a yes, then.

Anya was assertive in her lovemaking, enjoying the tussle between us. Was that just because it had been so long, or her natural drive?

I leaned her back in the water, her chest rising as if in offering. Her breasts were stunningly beautiful, and I took one of her hard nipples into my mouth, sucking and licking, while I teased the other, running the ball of my thumb across its peak. She arched with the pleasure of it, grinding her hips into me while she cradled my head in her hands, holding me to her.

“Fuck, Kaelan, it’s been so long,” she whimpered, “I want you inside me.”

Screwing in a hot tub sounded good in theory, but in practice the water was a hindrance and not a help. I stood up with her still wrapped around me, clinging on with arms and legs, my hand under her tight ass. Then I turned and let her slide down, until we’d effectively swapped positions and she was sitting on the step before me.

Her hand came up between my legs, cupping my balls, and before I could tell her how I wanted her, she took me into her mouth. It was so warm, in such direct contrast to the cold biting at my wet skin, and her tongue swirled around the head of me. It was all I could do to not thrust, my hips twitching at the sensations. Then she slid both hands around to my ass and pulled me forward anyway, clearly wanting to take me deeper.

I pushed against the back of her throat before she pulled off me with a choked gasp. “You’re too big,” she murmured, looking up at me with her startling blue eyes as she kissed along my length and caught her breath. But she wasn’t ready to give up yet. She took me into her warm mouth again, moaning her lust as she slid forward on me, and once more I hit her throat.

But this time, Anya didn’t pull back; she kept pushing, determined to take all of me, and she almost succeeded before she had to pull back once more. She slid her hand down my shaft as she looked up at me. “I’m going to take all of you,” she whispered, like it was a promise. Whether to me or herself, I couldn’t be sure.

“I believe you,” I replied with a smile, “but let’s save that for another time. I want you kneeling up on the step.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Are you going to bend me over the edge of the hot tub?”

I grinned. “Why not?”

“I bet this is exactly what Lira thought we’d be doing when she pulled the girls away,” she said as she turned away and knelt on the seat, her ass rising out of the water as she readied for me.

I took a moment to take in the view. Her ass raised as she leaned over the rim of the hot tub, the water still bubbling away up between her thighs, her smooth sex wet and pink and inviting.

Anya might’ve told me she had no skill points, but I sure as hell did, and I had the tools to make the most of them, too. Activate Divine Strength: Sex (Women).

Divine Strength activated: Sex (Women). Duration: one hour.

I loved how this boost let me maximize the pleasure of my partner, and I was dying to know if it worked on another god.

“Hurry up, Kaelan,” Anya murmured, wiggling her ass for me. “I’m getting cold. I need you in me, warming me up.”

I grinned and took myself in hand, lining myself up against her entrance. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt me, and no sooner had I begun to penetrate her than she pushed back into me, using the edge of the hot tub as leverage. The warmth of her body welcomed me, her sex gripping me as I slid inside her.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, “that feels so good.”

She was still taking control, and though I didn’t really mind, there was a time and a place for everything. We could wrestle more later, but for now, this was my time.

I gripped her hips tightly, keeping her still, then slowly withdrew until just the head of me was still inside her. She tried to push back, looking for more, but I didn’t let her.

For a moment, I held myself barely inside her, teasing both of us with the anticipation of what was to come. Then I slowly pushed inside her again, minutely adjusting my angle with each inch, rubbing the full length of myself against her g-spot. She shuddered beneath my grip, her head falling forward, and let out a sudden high-pitched gasp of pleasure.

Skill points working just fine, then.

I began to move inside her, taking my time, each stroke long and slow and focused on stimulating every part of her. She gripped the edge of the tub and held on, bracing herself to meet me, making small whimpers each time I went deep. She was no longer pushing back, no longer trying to control how I took her.

And that suited me.

For some moments, I focused only on enjoying the feel of her enveloping me, and how best to move to stimulate her. Her thighs began to quiver, which was cute. Her sex clenched me tighter, so warm and slick around me, and her gasps were coming frequently now, little high-pitched noises each time I filled her completely, and I didn’t need a clearer sign that her release was but a touch away.

I slipped my hand forward over her hip and down between her legs, finding her clit, and I brushed across it with my thumb.

She came hard, her body jerking, her thighs trembling more than before, and her soft cries became whimpers. Her pussy gripped me as she tightened involuntarily, and a flood of wetness soaked my cock.

It took a moment before she could breathe again, and another few heartbeats before she could speak. “How did you⁠—”

She broke off with a gasp as I began to thrust again, but this time with hard, fast strokes. Her body was warmed up now—both figuratively and literally—and I wanted to see how long it would take me to make her come a second time. I gripped her hips, pulling her into me, and I didn’t go easy on her.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, as my hips slapped into her firm, round ass with increasing frequency, the water sloshing around both of us. It began to snow—light, floating flakes that melted as soon as they hit her slender back—but neither of us cared enough to stop.

I was pretty sure I’d see her sexy fiery side again if I tried to stop now, and the thought made me grin.

Anya arched her back more, lifting her ass so I could drive deeper still, my balls slapping against her smooth bare labia with each stroke, and again her cries rose in pitch. I knew she was close, but this time I wanted to come with her.

I focused on nothing but the feel of melding together, the incredible sensation of her squeezing me each time I pushed into her, and the intense slick warmth of her around me. It didn’t matter that the rest of me was chilled—I hardly felt it, and I didn’t even have my resistance rune up. Our exertion, our bodies together, and the heat of our coupling was more than enough to stave off the cold air. In fact, it just heightened the experience, bringing the focus for both of us to the singular warm point of our joining.

In the end, her orgasm arrived first, her delicious sex clenching around me again and offering that tell-tale sensation of flooding, and it was enough to bring me to my own release. I pumped twice more inside her, gripping her hips tightly as I pulled her back into me, then filled her with my seed. She cried out, tightening around me like she never wanted me to leave, her body tensing beneath my hands. Then her head fell forward with a weary but contented sigh, better displaying her gorgeous back, the firelight reflecting off her skin that was slick with perspiration and steam from the hot tub.

For a while, neither of us moved, still reveling in the afterglow of our intense sex, then she gave a small laugh. “Lira wasn’t kidding. God damn … mind blown.”

I raised an eyebrow even though she couldn’t see it. Lira had told her about … this?

There would always be some facets of women that I’d never claim to understand.

You have gained a new Power: Power of Morvak.

I blinked at that unexpected message, but parked it for now, for in that same moment Anya gave a tiny shiver. I wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure or cold, but with the endorphins fading and our bodies stilling, the chill was more noticeable. Without pulling from inside her, I slipped my arm around her waist and sank down into the water, drawing her with me.

She came willingly, leaning back against my chest, sighing as the warm water enveloped us once more. She turned her head to kiss me. “Thank you, I needed that,” she murmured, and kissed me again.

“You’re welcome,” I said, the edge of my lips curling in response. “But you don’t need to thank me.”

She gave another small laugh. “Oh, I really think I do.”

Then she pushed off me, and both of us gave a small gasp as I slipped from her. But she only turned around in the water before straddling me again, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck as her breasts crushed into my chest, kissing me slowly.

Then she pulled back, eyes wide in surprise. “You’re still hard.” She rolled her hips against me as if to emphasize the point.

“Yes,” I said, with a small shrug. I’d gotten used to that as a helpful side effect of my well-practiced sex skill. Plus, she was gorgeous, naked, and in my arms.

“No wonder you need more than one woman.” She said it with a playful smile.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” I said gently. “This is your time. If you want to go again…?”

“Nuh uh,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I need at least an hour or two—or a day or two—to recover from that. Don’t get me wrong, it was fucking fantastic, but you’re … well … let’s just say a girl gets sore.”

“Bring him back inside already,” Lira called from within the tent, and we both started in reflex, glancing toward the sound of her voice. Then we looked at each other, and I grinned at Anya while she gave a little giggle, her breasts jiggling distractingly with the motion.

“Were they watching?” she asked, her sudden blush further reddening her already flushed cheeks.

“Er … fifty-fifty,” I said, waggling my head. “Senna and Lira? Slightly higher. Elara? Probably not.”

“Of course they were,” she muttered, half to herself.

“If it helps any, you’ve also heard everything for the last few nights, haven’t you?”

Her blush deepened. “The door wasn’t very thick.”

“So that answers the question on soundproofing,” I said.

Her eyes widened. “Soundproofing? Oh God, I didn’t think of soundproofing!”

“And if you had, would you have done?” I grinned. “Or did you not think of it because you didn’t want to?”

She held my gaze in silence for a long moment, then she called out, surprising me. “Were you watching?”

“Hell yes,” Lira answered quickly.

“Hot as fuck!” Senna added.

“All right,” I conceded, “maybe fifty-fifty was too low.” I smiled at her, running my hands slowly up her back and down again, cupping her ass. “Do you want to stay here, or go in?”

“Um …” She took a steady breath, and let it out slowly. “I think I’m ready to go in,” she said. “I want to meet your girls again” —she gave a small smile, lowering her eyes— “now that I’m one of them.” She gave a little laugh and shook her head. “And now that they’ve witnessed … all that.”

I nodded. “Come on, then.” I used a hand on the nearest seat to push myself up as she wrapped her arms and legs around me, clinging to me and laughing as the water streamed off us. I began to wade toward the steps.

“Wait,” she said with a grin, “there’s an easier way.” She gripped tighter with both arms and legs, her soft breasts rubbing against my chest. “Brace yourself,” she murmured, then without any warning, the hot tub disappeared along with all the water.

Leaving me standing in snow. I staggered at the unexpected change, and she giggled as she rode me until I caught my balance.

“Warn a man,” I muttered.

“I did,” she said, smiling mischievously.

“I think I preferred the steps.”

“This was faster. But damn, it’s cold. Brrr.”

I slid my hands under her ass and pulled her closer. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“I know you will, but right now, it’s warm I want.”

It was only a few steps to the entrance to the tent, and Lira opened the tent flap for us, so that I didn’t even have to put her down—proof they’d been spying.

Once inside the tent, I let Anya slide off me, and Lira immediately pulled her close. “You did it,” she said. “I knew you would.” Lira kissed her, a light brush of lips.

“You weren’t just watching, were you?” Anya said in a mortified voice. “Did you hear everything too? Oh, my God, you did, didn’t you!”

She seemed more concerned about the girls hearing her earlier declaration than watching her being bent over the edge of the hot tub and fucked.

“Might have to ask you to repeat a few of the quieter lines later,” Senna said with a cheeky smile, leaning in to have her own embrace. “But yeah. We got most of it.”

“We’ve all been there,” Elara said, coming for her own welcoming hug as soon as Senna was done.

Senna coughed into her hand with a noise that sounded very much like ‘radiant orgasms’, earning herself a glare from Elara.

“Ignore her,” I said to Elara, giving my assassin a slap on her bare ass. “She’s just jealous.”

Anya turned on the spot between all of us, looking at each of us in turn. But it was me she spoke to. “I get it now, I do. It’s not about me, or about you, it’s about all of us.” She smiled.

“Family,” Lira said.

“Family,” Anya echoed, tasting the word as if for the first time. “And we’re going to need a bigger bed.”

She didn’t even need to wave her hands—the four-poster returned, even bigger than before, the tent expanding to accommodate it. There was a single door off to one side, likely with the bathroom behind it, but no side room for Anya.

She didn’t need or want one.

Not now. Not anymore.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The girls were finally asleep, limbs and hair tangled together.

I lay in the middle, tired in a satisfied way, Lira cuddling on one side of me, Anya on the other. Their hands were interlinked across my chest, and Anya was smiling in her slumber.

But something was niggling at me, keeping me awake.

I held my breath.

Show information Power of Morvak.

Power of Morvak: God Power. Subset of the powers of the God of Illusion. Create a single illusion, up to 100 cubic feet, limited only by the knowledge and imagination of the mind. 3/day.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I was never going to be able to get to sleep now.

With care, I extricated myself from between the girls. It was hardest with Lira, whose head had been on my chest, and it dropped a little onto the goose-down pillows Anya had created. I had to shift and slide off the end of the bed, careful not to disturb Elara and Senna, who were cuddled up together.

Then I pulled up my resistance rune and walked outside.

The sky was only partially cloudy, halfway between the unbroken overcast gray that had dominated much of our trip and the more recent blue-white wintery skies we’d had in the last few days, and hundreds of stars peeked through the gaps. It was snowing still, a silent continuous fall of gentle flakes, calming in a way I couldn’t relate to in that moment.

The grass where the hot tub had stood was already covered with a few inches of fresh powder, a measure of the time that had passed since Anya and I had returned to the tent.

I walked over to where we’d had dinner around the fire, the embers barely glowing, and sat down heavily on one of the logs. Maybe I should’ve grabbed a cloak—I wasn’t cold, my resistance rune took care of that, but sitting naked on rough bark was less comfortable.

Well, it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

I concentrated on the image I wanted, waved a hand—probably unnecessary as Anya didn’t—and a deep, soft, fabric armchair appeared beside me, looking like it was fresh out of Ikea’s catalogue.

Fuck.

I sat down in it, and it was as real as any other chair I’d ever sat in.

The snow continued to fall while I sat and thought. Wondering on the other gods, the Watchers, the size of Corthos.

How long we had.

Whether the girls were powerful enough to survive what was to come.

How I’d keep them safe. Keep them alive.

I sat for so long and so still that the snow covered me, and when I eventually rose to go back into the tent before the girls wakened to find me gone, it fell in a pile on the ground.

I let the chair fade away, like all my hopes of peace.

By noon the next day, we rode into the large Saromiran town we’d passed through a few weeks before. I shared out a good proportion of Arik’s gold among the girls, not expecting to receive any change. They went off together, happy to be shopping—except Elara, I think, who was more interested in ‘resupplying’ than going on a spending spree. Senna took it upon herself to explain the difference to my paladin, and Elara shot me a look that was a plea for help as Senna dragged her away.

I smiled. Then went to find some lunch, and a beer. Or something stronger.

“Any news?” I asked the proprietor of the tavern as I ordered some food. My stomach clenched at the question—I knew it would be one I’d be asking a lot in the days to come.

“Well, some of the warbands returned this way,” he replied with now-familiar Saromiran dourness. “The war has been called off, and the shamans in Krennar are dead.”

He delivered this as though it were a report on the weather, not a historical turning point for Valoran-Saromiran relations.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” I asked.

His eyes narrowed. “You are not from around here, are you?”

“Er …” A few days traveling with the girls, and I’d forgotten Saromirans didn’t use contractions. “That is good, is it not?”

“Yes,” he said, looking at me suspiciously. “It is good news.”

“Any other news?” My stomach clenched again.

“Just that, as far as I know.”

“Well, grand,” I said, knowing the feeling of relief was transitory—it wouldn’t last. “In that case, a jug of ale to celebrate. Have a mug yourself?”

Mollified by my generosity—if still somewhat suspicious of my origins—he filled a jug of ale and poured us both a tankard. I went and found a corner to sit in while I waited for my food and the girls.

Lira rode up beside me.

“Out with it, Kaelan. What’s troubling you?”

I glanced across at her, then returned my eyes forward to the road ahead.

We were three days past the town, still roughly two weeks to the mountain pass. Lakeside was another week beyond that.

“What could be bothering me?” I replied, trying for a light tone.

“That’s what I’m asking you. You’ve been quiet since … well …” She frowned. “Is it Anya?”

I glanced back over my shoulder. Anya was riding at the rear, beside Elara. She noticed me looking, and gave me smile. But her body language told a different story: a sudden tenseness that hid a hint of uncertainty and hurt, like she’d also realized when my mood had changed.

“Is that what you all think?” I said to Lira. “Ride back there and tell her that everything is fine. She’s done nothing wrong. She’s perfect, you all are.”

Lira regarded me for a long moment. “No, my God,” she said at last. “If you want that message delivered, you should do it yourself, shouldn’t you?”

I reined in with a sigh, my horse coming to a stop. “Yeah. I suppose you’re right.” I sighed again. “I had to tell you all sooner or later anyway. Let’s make camp.”

It was a little earlier than we usually stopped, but the girls didn’t question my decision when Lira told them. There were a few concerned glances my way, but I waited until the tent was set up, the horses tethered and fed, and the fire laid.

There was no reason to delay any longer. “All right,” I said, drawing their attention. “There’s something I need to show you.”

This time, I didn’t even wave a hand.

I also didn’t go for the Ikea range.

A nice dark brown leather sofa appeared beside the fire, soft and plush. It was easy, I didn’t even have to try too hard to picture what I wanted. It was like the power just read my mind, and voila.

There were gasps all round.

“Oh!” Anya cried in surprise. “You’ve got my power!” She paused for a moment, then two more matching sofas fell into place around the fire.

“It’s not as strong as yours,” I assured her quickly. “Much more limited.”

“Wait.” Anya was frowning. “How did you get—” Her gaze met mine, and I saw the puzzlement within.

Then I saw the moment she figured it out, because I was expecting it. The sudden shock. The widening of her eyes, filled with fear.

“Yeah,” I said sadly, and flopped down on the sofa I’d made.

Lira was watching the two of us, her concern rising. “What is it?” she asked. For some reason, she focused on Anya, not me. “What has you both so on edge all of a sudden?” Her gaze switched to me. “Why have you been … moping these last three days?”

“I don’t mope.”

Anya sat down slowly, as if stunned. Which she was. The other girls also took seats, waiting expectantly. Elara sat next to her, Lira opposite, sharing with Senna.

“Well?” Lira broke the silence.

I was about to reply, but Anya beat me to it. “Did Kaelan tell you about the Watchers?”

“It might’ve slipped my mind,” I muttered. I got four glares for that, which was fair. Anya knew already, of course, but I should’ve told the rest of them.

“It’s a contest,” Anya explained without preamble. “All the pyramids in Corthos are home to a god. Winner takes all. And the prize is … big.”

“How big?” Lira asked.

Anya shrugged. “Basically, everything.”

That was pretty accurate.

“I don’t get it,” Senna said. “You’re both acting like someone died. Why is it a bad thing that you have some of Anya’s power?”

“It’s not,” I said wearily. “The bad thing is that I gained Anya’s power when I … er …”

“Conquered me,” Anya finished, staring at me. “That’s it, isn’t it? The Watchers saw it as you defeating me.”

I shrugged, letting my silence answer the question.

Lira’s breath came out in a hiss. But then, she was always that perceptive. Elara was frowning thoughtfully.

“What?” Senna asked, now looking between all three of us.

“The contest is a battle royale,” I explained. “Last man standing wins. I had hoped”—I glanced at Anya—“we had hoped now that ‘Morvak’ was defeated and Valorah safe, that we’d have some peace. If we didn’t go looking for a fight, it wouldn’t come looking for us.”

“But the prize is too irresistible,” Elara murmured.

I did a finger gun her way. “Even that wasn’t necessarily a problem. Any god who came looking for trouble would now have to deal with not only me, but all of you too. And we have Anya on our side. With both of us working together as allies, we’d have the advantage.” I glanced at Anya. “A nuclear deterrent.”

She nodded. The other girls had gotten used to our occasionally strange verbiage, and didn’t even blink.

“But now the rules have changed,” Lira said. “When a god is”—she glanced at Anya—“conquered, their power goes to the victor.”

“Snowball effect,” Anya said, shaking her head in dismay.

“You mean they get stronger with every kill, don’t you?” Senna asked.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “So now, if we do nothing, some god out there could feasibly kill all the others, getting stronger each time, and come find us with the power of four or five gods.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Senna declared, her eyes flashing defiance. “Between us all, we’d still win.”

I smiled sadly at my brave assassin. “Imagine fighting someone who had some of my power, some of Anya’s, and power of the same god-like level from one or two other sources—in addition to their own. Plus, we don’t know what any of those powers could be. Only that they are as powerful as this”—I tapped my very comfortable chair— “or this.” I called my fire rune and shot a blast of fire up into the air above our heads. It was showy; it was magic. It wasn’t even my true god power.

“We’d still win,” Senna insisted, but her face had paled, her voice lacking the same conviction. “We would, wouldn’t we?”

Very little scared my assassin, and I hated seeing the fear in her eyes. Yet there was no sugar coating this.

“Maybe,” I said slowly. “But at what cost? How much of Norathil would we lose in the process? How many innocents?”

How many of those who sat around this very fire?

“Don’t you even think about it, Kaelan, you bastard,” Lira said fiercely.

I blinked. ‘You bastard’ was an unexpected variant of her usual ‘my God’. Anya was rubbing off on her already.

She turned to the others. “He’s been thinking of going off by himself to find the other gods and kill them, so that none of us are endangered. That’s why he’s been moping for three days.”

Well, shit. Busted.

“I’m coming with you,” Anya said quickly. “I can help.”

Elara reached over and patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Anya. Lira’s point is that we’re all coming with him.” She fixed her gaze on me. “In case you’d forgotten, my God, your High Priestess can track you wherever you go.”

“I didn’t want this,” I said with a sigh. “I wanted a break. I wanted some peace.” I wanted to not have to worry about my girls, ever again. “We haven’t even got home yet, and we’re already planning on leaving.”

“If that’s what it takes,” Senna said firmly. “We’ll stop the other gods before they have a chance to come to us. You’ll take their power, and then you’ll be the one to be feared.”

Lira rose from her sofa and came to mine, sitting beside me and folding her legs up beneath her. She leaned on my shoulder, warm and reassuring. “I’m with you, wherever it takes us.”

Elara was up next, already walking over. She slipped to her knees at my feet, laying her hands on my knee and propping her chin on top. She gazed at me. “I’m apparently invincible. That’s got to be helpful, right?”

“Group hug!” Senna cried, pushing past Elara to sit on my lap, wiggling her ass to get comfortable. “I’m good at stabbing things, and I know that will be helpful.”

Anya gave a small laugh, watching us, then came and sat on my other side. “I’m still with you, Kaelan. Partners, friends, allies, remember? Besides, you said I was one of your girls now.”

I slid my arms around Anya and Lira, pulling them closer. Senna bounced on my lap like a playful and irritating puppy. Elara hugged my leg, and gave me a gentle smile.

“Oh, fine,” I said. “You can all come.”

“Damn right,” Lira murmured, and poked me in the side with one vicious finger.

My beautiful, capable, dangerous girls.

Half of me was full of fear for all of them, the other half relieved we’d be together. Part of me still wanted to go and do this alone—and yet, I was resigned.

I might be an immortal god, but I knew when I couldn’t win a fight.

Afterword

I’ve been overwhelmed by the positive feedback from this series—thank you all.

The dream—like many authors—is to one day focus full-time on my writing and give up the day job. Publishing is a tough market, and the support of readers with reviews and onward recommendations is essential.

Cue the plug for ‘please leave me a review’ ;)

It’s been a lot of fun writing this book and watching the characters develop. There are days when Elara is a steady presence, sometimes Senna is my favorite, and other days when Lira just feels comfortable. Both Kaelan and I missed her while she was gone, but there has to be a story, too. Can’t just sit around enjoying a warm fire for 100k words. Although, maybe next book …

So Kaelan has just realized there’s still a lot of work to do if he wants to keep everyone safe. Will there be more? Hell yes.

Watch this space.

Or, if you prefer, watch this space: https://www.patreon.com/c/JasonMarino — there’s content at every tier level, including the free one.

I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again—thank you for reading my stories. There’d be literally no point doing this without you.

JM

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