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If Arkk had known how little he would have had to do, he might have been able to sleep. Knowing that he had forgotten something, that some part of his plan was faulty, that something would go wrong had filled him with enough anxiety that he wound up sitting awake in bed, going over everything even as the hours ticked by. Arkk now found himself sitting in the meeting room, twiddling his thumbs, wondering if he had over-planned everything.

Using a crystal ball, he had watched the inquisitors round up all the volunteers—a total of about fifty people, only a small number of whom were mercenaries—and their meeting. The crystal balls didn’t provide sound but he could guess at what they were saying from the motions to the map on the wall and the way they all split apart into groups. They were organizing how to search the Cursed Forest.

After about an hour, they took off, marching toward the border of the Cursed Forest. Most of the people were on foot but a small handful, including the inquisitors, were mounted on horseback. Despite their horses, they stuck close to the groups of walkers. Arkk assumed their horses were more for rapidly communicating with others rather than for searching. The ten groups of five were spread out far enough that there were fairly significant gaps between them.

They were not making good time. In fact, they were slow enough as they wandered back and forth in wavy patterns that Arkk wondered if they were planning on camping out overnight partway across. Having started from Stone Hearth Burg in the southwest, they would have to cross more than half of the Cursed Forest before they came across the false fortress. They would also pass over the actual fortress well in advance of that.

All-in-all, Arkk had stressed out over what was turning out to be a rather dull morning. At their current pace, they wouldn’t even arrive until the next day.

“Vezta,” Arkk said, glancing over to the other occupied seat at the table. When it became apparent that today wouldn’t see any significant activity, he had sent Ilya, Rekk’ar, Zullie, and Khan off to do whatever they wanted to do, leaving just him and Vezta keeping an eye on matters. “I’ve been meaning to ask but have gotten consistently distracted… How come I couldn’t hire on the two elf children?”

“There aren’t many reasons. If they were already bound to another Keeper, that would stop you. I doubt that is the case given the current state of the world. The Darkwood Keeper was likely an anomaly.” Vezta looked up from her own crystal ball, though a few of her spare eyes dotted around her body maintained their focus. “A few other magically binding loyalty agreements might similarly block your ability to hire. However, let me ask you this: Did you want to hire them?”

“Of course. I needed to get them here and intended to use Fortress Al-Mir’s magic to do so.”

“You wanted to use the fortress magic, but did you want to hire them? Put them to work in your rooms, have them assist your operations, and protect and serve you?”

Arkk pressed his lips together, frowning. “I hired Hale for much the same reasons. I needed to get her here and away from the inquisitors.”

“You intended to use her for the ritual. For the elves, you saw their misbegotten state and rejected the notion of inflicting additional problems on them by having them serve you. The [HEART] is aware of your intentions.”

Drumming his fingers on the table, Arkk hummed. “Alright. I’ll grant it that. But if it is aware of what I want, why do I feel like the elf children are prisoners?”

“Because they are. The function of taking captives is far more automatic than hiring. You effectively sequestered the elves away in their own section of the fortress and are preventing them from leaving. Regardless of your wants they are prisoners. That affords you certain control over them. The magic of the [HEART] treats them as if they are property, which is why you can transport them around at will.”

“Can I?” Arkk asked, focusing on the prisoner link between him and the elf children. He hadn’t tried moving them around. Not since initially transporting them from Smilesville to the fortress and that had been in his arms. Thinking about it now, he found Vezta’s claim accurate. “They really aren’t prisoners, though. They aren’t locked into their rooms or anything.”

“It is a power dynamic. Were they older, stronger, or simply capable of defending themselves, you would likely have to be a bit more thorough to keep the magic identifying them as prisoners. Yet they are children. Powerless children.

“Forgive me for speaking of my former master yet again, but I will say that he had entire rooms the size of the orc barracks dedicated to containing prisoners. Deep pits and oubliettes with large spikes keeping even the most deft of climbers from escaping. Magic dampening kept them from using any mystical methods of escape.”

“Multiple rooms the size of the orc barracks? How many captives did he keep?” Arkk could understand needing some space for captivity. If he had one of those pits, he might have been tempted to throw Savren inside. Keeping thirty or more captives in a single room and having several of those rooms?

Arkk hoped he didn’t have that many enemies.

“He fought in wars. Quite successfully, I might add. To further bolster his ranks, any captured alive would be… tempted to join him. He had minions in his employ who specialized in methods to convince people that life was better under him.”

“The emphasis you are putting on certain words is concerning.”

Vezta merely smiled.

Arkk didn’t bother asking for more details. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear all that much about her former master. Instead, Arkk asked, “Do you remember the schematics for one of those prison rooms?”

“I truly only know basic rooms, rooms that my former master created while possessing me. A prison was not one of those rooms, unfortunately. However, a pit with spikes around the sides is simple enough to construct. The magical wards may be more difficult.”

“Zullie should be able to help with that, right?”

“I shall ask, if you would like. Although…”

“I know,” Arkk said with a sigh. “You’re stretched thin.”

“While I appreciate the trust you put in me to manage so many of your affairs, I do feel as if my talents are being appropriated improperly.” Vezta demurely motioned to the crystal ball in front of her. “Scrying is something I am capable of even while working on other matters, however it is a simple, base task that any of your minions should be able to accomplish with minimal training. Offloading at least that much onto others would allow me to focus more energies on more important matters.”

Humming, Arkk nodded his head. “I’ll ask Dakka if any of the orcs are interested in learning to scry. Keep it up for now, however,” he said, standing. “I’ll be back shortly. Alert me if…” Arkk trailed off, looking into the crystal ball at the handful of people trudging through the desolate wasteland that was the Cursed Forest. “Well, if anything happens. Doubt anything will, though.”

“Of course, Master.”

Arkk transported himself out of the meeting room. Not to Dakka—who was personalizing some of the new armor Arkk had ordered for everyone using some kind of red paint she got from who knew where—but to the section of the fortress he had cordoned off for the two elf children. It wasn’t far from his and Ilya’s rooms, just around the corner, and wasn’t technically restricted to any of his minio—any of his employees. To the best of his knowledge, only Ilya, Hale, and John had visited them since their arrival.

Even Arkk had been avoiding them as much as possible. Part of that was because he had been running around the nation, working. The other part was just that Arkk found them a bit… unnerving. They barely spoke to anyone, or so he had heard from Hale and John, and didn’t do anything either. When nobody was around, they just sat inside their quarters and that was it. It wasn’t living so much as it was languishing.

As Keeper of Fortress Al-Mir, he had brought them in. They were his responsibility. Avoiding them forever wasn’t going to fix anything.

He had no idea what to do.

Ilya, currently speaking with Olatt’an in the canteen, wasn’t with them at the moment. Hale was having an impromptu lesson with Zullie.

Knocking at the door, Arkk waited. It didn’t take long for the door to swing open. Neither of the elves opened it. Instead, John stood in the doorway. The old carpenter had a long apron on that was covered in little chips of wood. A few metal tools poked out of his pockets and he held a small block of wood, partially carved on one side, in his hand.

Having peeked into the room, Arkk had known that John was there. In the past few days, John had taken up the task of teaching the elf children to whittle wood. It was a good hobby and one Arkk approved of. There wasn’t much else for children to do here, unfortunately. Not unless he put them to work.

“Arkk?” John asked, a bit of shock on his face. “Did something go wrong with the inquisitors?”

“No. Nothing like that. I doubt they’re even going to be here before tomorrow. Maybe not even then. I got worked up over nothing—or at least too early—and now I’m mostly looking to take my mind off things.” Arkk leaned slightly to one side, looking over John’s shoulder.

Both of the elves dropped their gazes the moment he looked their way. They didn’t flinch away and the young girl didn’t fix him with a glare like the first time they had met. That felt like a fairly large improvement to Arkk.

Both held wooden blocks in their hands. The girl’s was a bit of a mess. Even taking a closer look with his Keeper vision, he couldn’t tell at all what it was supposed to be. The boy’s, on the other hand, was a horse. It looked like something he had been working on for a few days at least, given the detail.

“How are they doing?” Arkk asked, looking back to John.

John glanced back for just a moment before stepping out into the hall, letting the door shut behind him. “Better than when I first saw them,” he said with a mild sigh. “Yavin has taken to woodwork like he was born to do it. Might have done it in the past, don’t know, they don’t talk about their time before coming here. Honestly, might ask him if he is interested in more professional work.” At that, John shot Arkk a mild glare.

“Hale still wants to do woodwork, doesn’t she?”

“You and I both know that won’t last. The girl has been spending more and more time with that witch. Comes back every day with some new scribbles to draw on the floor,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “Don’t think she ever was this excited about new carving techniques.”

Arkk couldn’t help his smile. “There’s something special about blowing up your first ritual circle,” he said with a nostalgic sigh.

John raised an eyebrow. “Hale hasn’t blown anything up.”

“Really? Huh.”

“Anyhow, Yavin is doing well. I am a bit worried about Nyala though. She… Rather than carving wood, she mostly just… mutilates it.”

“Woodwork isn’t for everyone,” Arkk said with a withering laugh.

“If it was just that, I wouldn’t be concerned.” John rubbed the back of his head, tossing a glance at the closed door. As if they could hear through it, he dropped his voice to a quiet whisper. “She’s got some anger issues but she hides them well. They really just come out when she has a whittling knife and block of wood in hand. Don’t think she likes me much either. Doesn’t hide that quite as well.”

Arkk hummed, leaning up against the stone wall. “Think they want to get out of here?”

“They haven’t said anything like that to me,” John said with a negative shake of his head. “I wouldn’t bet against it, however.”

“We left our horse back at Darkwood,” Arkk said with a frown. “I’ve been meaning to see if I can’t purchase a new one. I noticed Yavin’s carving was a horse. Maybe he would like to go. And Nyala… think she would rather have a book instead of a block of wood?” None of the books currently in the fortress were well-suited to children. In fact, almost every tome was a book on magic in some variety or other. “Can she read?”

“I can’t really judge that. Not too literate myself.” John shrugged. “You want to take them to town? Now?”

“As I said, I doubt the inquisitors will be around before tomorrow at the earliest. As long as we don’t go too far, I’ll be able to instantly transport everyone back here if there is an emergency.”

Besides that, if they stopped by at Stone Hearth Burg, maybe he could get some information from anyone who heard Inquisitor Vrox’s speech and see if he couldn’t get a few more details on exactly what their plans were out here. Arkk didn’t like to call that an ulterior motive. Just using every opportunity to its fullest potential.

“Well,” John said, “we can ask them.”

Nodding, Arkk motioned for John to reenter the room first.

The door swung open on its own as soon as they decided to head back inside. The two elves were still on the floor. Neither looked like they had moved much in the short time they had been alone. Yavin, having picked up his knife again, did have a slightly larger pile of shavings around his feet.

Their room was fairly barebones. Plain beds. Plain walls. The only thing of real note was the woven reeds covering the floor and the odd give they had when stepped on. Like the floor wasn’t perfectly stable. Their room, like every other personal room in Fortress Al-Mir, used the magic of the living room to generate customized living space. Arkk wondered if the bare-bones nature of the room came from them being considered prisoners or if they just didn’t have well-formed desires for their living quarters.

“Hey kids,” Arkk said, feeling incredibly awkward all of a sudden. He had barely said more than twenty words to either of them. Did they even know who he was? “Don’t know if you remember me. I came to meet you when you first came here. My name is Arkk. I run this place.”

Both kids stared at him. Yavin had his eyes locked somewhere around Arkk’s chest, not lifting his eyes up to Arkk’s face. On the other hand, Nyala looked at him directly in the face. Her eyes were the picture of innocence but something—a hint through the prisoner link they shared—leaked defiance. She was testing him. Perhaps checking to see if he would beat her if she openly stared at him.

“So,” Arkk said. “You might remember I gave each of you a gold coin? Not much place to spend it here, is there? I was thinking about heading into one of the local burgs—I’m in the market for a horse,” he said, trying not to give a meaningful look at Yavin. The boy did raise his eyes, however. “I thought to myself, why not see if either of you wants to go to town with me? I don’t know that any horses will be on the market but I have a few books and other things to gather at the same time,” he said, this time trying to gauge Nyala’s reaction.

She didn’t react. Her facial expression didn’t change in the slightest.

Arkk suppressed a shudder, wondering exactly what these kids had been through before deciding that he was probably better off not knowing.

“Or whatever else strikes our fancy,” he finished, feeling a bit lame about it. “Any takers?” When they didn’t respond after a long few moments, Arkk glanced at John. “John will be coming as well.”

“I will?”

“And Ilya, if that will make you feel better about coming,” Arkk said, ignoring John’s surprised look.

Finally, the young boy spoke. “Horses?”

One word. Still, that was one word more than Arkk had ever heard from them. “Horses. If I can find one to buy, how would you like to visit it here at the stables?”

For their old horse, one of the rooms had been converted into a straw-filled pasture-like room. It probably wasn’t as good as being able to roam an open field but it was all they had. Maybe after the inquisitors left, they could build something topside. But that land was still a dry, dead wasteland.

The boy considered Arkk’s words for a moment before simply nodding his head.

“I’m going too,” Nyala said. She spoke clearly, not breaking her eye contact with Arkk. Lacking the trodden look she had sported upon their first meeting, Arkk might have overlooked some of her oddities if he hadn’t known better. She almost sounded normal there. Except… not quite.

Arkk noted two things. First was the subtle anger that John had mentioned. Arkk got the impression that he wasn’t too well-liked either.

The other thing was that this was yet another test. She hadn’t asked if she could come or said she would come. She effectively demanded to come. Arkk didn’t mind. He imagined her former owner would have been a bit harsher in his treatment after getting those simple three words in response to a question.

“Great,” Arkk said, hoping his smile didn’t look too forced. “Let me go speak with Ilya and we’ll be on our way.”

 

 

“Alright. Let’s go over this one more time,” Arkk said, looking around his meeting table.

Vezta stood a step behind and just to the side of him, looking calm and serene as usual. Khan was coiled up directly across from Arkk, hands gently resting on the table. Ilya, Zullie, Rekk’ar, and Olatt’an were split on either side, none paying too much attention to Arkk as they stared at the gorgon in their midst. For once, it seemed like Vezta wasn’t the strangest thing around. Or, more accurately, people had gotten used to her but were still highly wary of the gorgon.

“Tomorrow morning,” Arkk continued, trying to pretend like he had everyone’s attention, “the inquisitors will begin their search of the Cursed Forest accompanied by about forty volunteers, most of whom are just regular villagers looking to get a little extra coin in their pockets and not hardened mercenaries.

“It is a large swath of land to cover,” Arkk said. “Possible to traverse in under a day if you’re walking or running through it but these people will be searching. I don’t know how fast or how slow they’ll be moving. Vezta will be making use of our crystal balls to keep track of the inquisitors and both Fortress Al-Mir and the false fortress to the north.”

Vezta dipped her head in a slight bow, acknowledging her part in the plan.

“We don’t want to make it easy or obvious for them, so if they do pass right over the small clues we left pointing toward the false fortress, we’ll let them go by. I assume the inquisitors won’t give up so easily, they seem quite persistent, but if they give up temporarily, it buys us time to work out even better plans for the next time they stop by.

“If the search parties do stumble across the false fortress, we’ll make a show of fighting them off. Based on my own village’s temperament, regular villagers will stand and defend their town to the death as long as victory seems plausible. Out here? The mere presence of a small group of orcs will likely be enough to frighten away anything but overwhelming numbers. We’re not expecting that. The mercenaries might take a bit more of a beating but we should easily outnumber them even with that team of orcs still at the lost pyramid. Even still, I want everyone to be careful. Remember that I can transport all of you at will.”

Rekk’ar didn’t even glance over to Arkk, focused entirely on Khan. Thankfully, Olatt’an gave Arkk a firm nod of his head. “I will endeavor to remind the others that they can garner your attention should they become injured or otherwise find themselves in a precarious situation.”

“Good. If the inquisitors enter, I don’t want anyone fighting them. I don’t know exactly what their capabilities are, only that they destroyed the Darkwood fortress. Given the monsters around Darkwood, that makes them a whole lot more dangerous than anyone else. When they arrive, I’ll deal with them myself.”

“Big talk,” Rekk’ar said, voice low and gravely. He finally turned his head over to Arkk. With his lips curled into a frown, he crossed his arms. “Would you remind me who fell to a ghast just a few weeks ago? These inquisitors can apparently kill ghasts with little effort if the destruction of that other fortress is any indication.”

Arkk pressed his lips together, stiffening. “That was me saving one of your men from having his head torn off in exchange for what was obviously a far less grievous wound. Remind me of who made your former chieftain literally explode.”

Rekk’ar flashed his tusks for a brief moment. “You have warriors. Use them.” He slammed a fist on the table, glaring before speaking again. “If Vezz’ok or Orjja dies, who cares? But if you die, there goes our cushy lives here, our pay, and maybe even our own lives if those inquisitors really will tear through the place.”

“That…” Arkk glowered. He had a point. The thought of throwing orcs to their deaths, even if they had once been attackers of his village, just didn’t sit right with him. Maybe he would have agreed a few months ago. Not now that they had gotten to know each other, fought at Darkwood together, and generally just lived together for the last three months.

“Boys,” Ilya said, rubbing her forehead. She wore dark bags under her eyes. In fact, she had sported those dark bags ever since returning. Looking at how hard she had to try just to stay awake for this meeting, Arkk felt guilty about dragging her away from the two elf children. “Please. Arkk doesn’t even need to fight them since we want them to destroy the fake fortress. So it doesn’t even matter.”

Zullie adjusted her glasses with her middle finger. “If they find the real fortress, what then?”

“Then we fight for real,” Arkk said, turning his attention to Zullie. “I don’t see how they would, though. Since sealing the crevasses in the ceilings, the only physical access comes in the form of the tunnels to the villages. All three entrances are well outside the area we’re expecting the inquisitors to be searching. The tunnels themselves are filled with traps and are designed to be collapsible. The only connection from here to the false fortress is a tiny tunnel that even a rat would have a hard time squeaking through.”

Arkk looked around slowly, watching everyone’s faces. Rekk’ar had gone back to glaring at the gorgon—which really wasn’t a wise decision in Arkk’s humble opinion—while everyone else had simply fallen silent. They had a plan. Arkk thought it was a pretty good plan. Most of the rest of them had agreed at one point or another. This meeting served just one purpose. Making sure everyone was on the same page.

“You requesst our pressence in thesse fightss?” the gorgon asked, hissing voice making everyone except Arkk and Vezta jump.

This meeting served two purposes. “When I initially made these plans, I didn’t know I would have gorgon joining us. You’re here because I wanted to keep you, and the rest of the gorgon by extension, informed of the goings on around Fortress Al-Mir. If you have input, I’ll happily accept it. However… your presence might be detrimental to what we hope to accomplish here. We want to lure them in and have them think they’ve won. If they see gorgon in the halls, they’ll likely run away and call down the Duke’s army on us.”

The gorgon nodded his head. “I undersstand.”

“That said… while I didn’t plan for your presence, gorgon standing at our backs would be a great boon if we do have to fight for real.”

Khan nodded, tongue darting out of his mouth before snapping back in.

“While you’re here, how are you and your people settling in? Is there anything you need?”

Khan closed his eyes, letting out a nasal hum. “Not at thiss moment. We are enjoying our new homess and belliess filled with real meat.”

“Good. Good. Keep me posted if that changes,” Arkk said. “And if your people are getting bored and want something to do, let me know what skills they have and I’ll see if I can’t get them doing something. Otherwise… continue enjoying yourselves?” Looking over the group once more, Arkk nodded. “If there are no other comments about the next few days,” he said, pausing a moment to see if anyone said anything. “Meeting over. Zullie, stay a moment.”

The witch, who had started to stand, stopped and dropped back into her chair. Vezta remained directly behind Arkk. Ilya didn’t move. Rekk’ar remained seated as well. Olatt’an stood and, with a gracious nod of his head, started toward the door, only to pause and let Khan exit first before following after. They turned in opposite directions just before the door swung shut behind them.

Arkk glanced around at the people who stayed behind. “I assume you all have something else to discuss?” he asked, already feeling like he knew what the topic was.

“Are you sure it is a good idea having the gorgon around, Arkk?” Ilya asked, first to speak. “John said one stopped by the other day and nearly frightened him to death.”

“Zharja. I’m pretty sure she got lost, though she wouldn’t admit it. Hale went on and on about how pretty her scales were. I didn’t think it was much of a problem.”

“Hale would—”

“One threatened my blacksmith,” Rekk’ar said, fist hitting the table.

Arkk sighed. After finding Zharja wandering around, he had run through a quick check to make sure nothing had happened. Given that Zharja hadn’t attacked him at the mine entrance, he doubted that she would have randomly attacked anyone. Someone getting scared and attacking first would have been a different story but no incident had occurred.

“I spoke with Perr’ok. He said she just asked a few questions. Even offered to make her armor—”

“As an appeasement,” Rekk’ar growled. “I said no gorgon and now you’re bringing them to meetings like this?”

“You said you didn’t want to fight gorgon. You aren’t. Khan is an employee, same as you. They stick to their section of the fortress for the most part. Even when they don’t, they aren’t attacking.” Arkk shook his head. “I don’t know why you’re so frightened of them. Everyone in this room is dangerous. I could fry you with two words. Vezta could tear apart everyone here at the same time. Zullie is a powerful spellcaster who knows more magic than I could even guess at. Ilya could put an arrow through your head from the next mountain over—”

“Please don’t bring me into this…”

“—and you hang around with a man called the Ripthroat on the regular. They can turn you to stone, so what? At least that is reversible.”

“They’re cold-blooded snakes. They don’t think like you or me.”

“They are intelligent, reasoning beings. That’s enough for me,” Arkk said with a shake of his head. “Frankly, I’m more concerned about our other… guest.” Turning his head toward Zullie, Arkk tried to force the subject onto what he actually wanted to ask. “How is Savren settling in?”

“Unhappily. Although not in chains, I think he feels like he is a prisoner here. He sticks around in his room most of the time, thankfully, but he stops by the library often enough that I have taken to facing the door at all times.”

“He hasn’t tried any magic on you?”

“Would I know if he had? A perplexing question. I’ve been setting up systems around my room, little reminders that, if I suddenly can’t remember, I’ll know he did something. And that is in addition to a few warning spells I’ve had active around me. That said, he might try something far more subtle that I won’t easily be able to detect.” Zullie shuddered to herself. “Are we sure we need him? Even aside from his concerning magical knowledge, the way he speaks is just… slimy.”

“You’re the one who said we aren’t going to easily be able to find people of your level for the ritual. I still have no idea where we are going to find another.” Arkk paused, then added, “You have checked Savren, right? He will work? Because if he doesn’t…”

“Unfortunately, he will suffice.”

“Then we deal with him for now. If he makes himself a problem, we get rid of him. I don’t suppose you checked the gorgon to see if any of them are magically capable?”

Zullie’s violet eyes flicked across the table. “Not to give into my associate’s paranoia—”

Rekk’ar snorted.

“—but I would rather not be alone with them either.”

Arkk glanced over his shoulder. “Vezta, can you assist Zullie?”

“I am beginning to feel stretched thin, Master.”

“I know. You have a lot on your plate, but—”

“I’ll do it,” Ilya said, sitting forward. “I can stick with Zullie when she needs someone else around.”

Zullie glanced over, flipping a lock of black hair over her head in the process. “You might be able to put an arrow through his head from a good distance but what good are you up close and personal with a gorgon?”

Ilya’s eyes flashed in irritation. “You want moral support or not?”

“They aren’t going to attack,” Arkk said. “Probably. The four older ones for sure. They…” He shared a look with Vezta. “They’re loyal with very little doubt. Half of the younger ones follow the elders. The other two… I’m keeping a close eye on them. They’ve hardly left their lairs, however, and then only to eat.”

Zullie drummed her fingers on the table. “Fine. On the condition that if even one of them is a capable spellcaster, we get rid of Savren.”

“But we need two—”

“Look, I signed up for magical research, not for dealing with monsters.” A strange look came over Zullie’s face as she glanced at Vezta. “No offense.”

“If one of them is capable, we can run the ritual immediately and get rid of Savren after. We’ll turn him over to a burg to deal with.”

“Might as well kill him yourself,” Rekk’ar grumbled. “Don’t like getting your hands dirty?”

Arkk drew in a breath, glaring down Rekk’ar. He was getting a bit irritated with the orc’s demeanor. Rekk’ar had a number of valid complaints, it was true, but he was so abrasive about it that Arkk couldn’t help but find it grating. “I’m perfectly willing to get my hands dirty when it benefits me. In this situation, turning the Hope Killer over to a burg, captured by Company Al-Mir, serves me to a far greater extent.”

Something about Arkk’s comment made Rekk’ar smile. Not the angry bearing of his tusks but a smile. A nasty, unpleasant smile. “Good,” the orc said, standing. “Keep the gorgon away from me.”

Without another word, Rekk’ar left the meeting room, leaving the door to shut behind him.

A long moment of silence followed before Zullie stood as well. “If we’re done, I suppose I best ready my materials for testing the gorgon. Would you kindly transport me to the library?”

With a nod of his head, Arkk made a vague and entirely unnecessary motion with his hand. Zullie vanished, leaving just him, Ilya, and Vezta. Arkk drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

“You alright?” Ilya asked softly.

“I’m fine. I saw this fracture coming when I decided to try to recruit the gorgon. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing but I couldn’t not do it. They have abilities that are just so… useful.”

“When did you start thinking like that?” Ilya asked. “Useful to keep the gorgon. Useful to send a man to his death—”

“First of all, that man is a remorseless murderer who tried to kill me the moment we met and might have ended up killing an entire village if his ritual circle went undisturbed for too long.”

“Still…”

Arkk just shook his head. He had goals. Rescuing Alya wasn’t going to be easy. Deposing the Duke? Even harder. He well knew that he would have to make some tough decisions at some point. Handing a murderer over for trial under the laws of the land was not one of them.

“What about you? Following Zullie around? What about the two elf kids?”

“John and Hale have been spending time with them. They’re… I don’t know what to do. They seem better with Hale especially. Something to distract me for a while sounds like a good thing, honestly. This isn’t something I’m looking forward to telling my mother about.”

“I could—”

“No. This is mine to deal with.” Ilya rested a hand on Arkk’s arm before letting her fingers fall away as she stood. “I’ll head out as well, I suppose. See when Zullie wants to test the gorgon.”

“Alright. But don’t push yourself too hard,” Arkk said. “Get some rest, especially before tomorrow.”

Ilya shot him a funny look. “Yeah,” was all she said before stepping out of the room.

Arkk leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the maze-like pattern on the ceiling. He traced a few long pathways, moving endlessly within those lines before his vision started to fuzz over from the repetitive patterns. Shaking his head, he turned. “Any thoughts?”

Vezta offered a slight bow. “I think you are operating optimally under the circumstances. I apologize for not being able to do more—”

“Your scrying is a valuable duty and I lean on you hard for help managing the servants, learning more about the fortress, teaching Zullie as much magic as you can, working with Zullie over the ritual, and your fighting skills and…”

“Still, it pains me to not be able to fulfill a task upon being asked.”

“Physically painful?”

Vezta stared a moment before laughing. A musical, uplifting laugh. Arkk wasn’t sure he had ever heard the servant laugh before.

“No,” Vezta said with a smile on her face.

The smile was a bit much. Although he could tell that her mannerisms were well-meant, it still was a smile too wide with a few too many teeth.

Shaking off the sudden reminder of her vastly inhuman nature, Arkk returned her smile. “Well, I hope I’m doing right by you.”

“Of course you are, Master.”

 

 

Zharja stared around what was to be her new home with middling curiosity. Smooth walls. Smooth floors. It wasn’t natural. That didn’t necessarily mean it was bad, just that it meant someone had built it. The same could be said of the mines, though they felt more naturalistic with the exposed raw stone and dirt.

There wasn’t much to it. At least not in the small section the gorgon had been given. Although it was smaller than the mines, most of the others didn’t mind. Between the large room filled with nothing but chickens and small piglets that they were free to eat whenever the mood struck and the strange magic that granted them each personalized dwellings, most of the others were lazing about, enjoying the coma that came with filled stomachs.

In truth, Zharja found it hard to leave her new dwelling as well. What had once been a plain room with oddly-patterned fabric coating the floor had turned into the perfect spot to lounge about. There was a large stone, warmed by a bright glowing stone overhead, that was perfect to coil up on top. If she got too warm, the stone sat right next to a large, marshy pool, deep enough that she could entirely submerge herself, hiding from the world above. In the two days she had been at this fortress, Zharja had taken to coiling her upper half against the rock while letting her tail dangle into the water.

It was… soothing.

She could understand the others wanting to rest. Those mines, while safe, hadn’t provided plentiful food or warm, sun-baked rocks to rest against.

Today, however, Zharja had dragged herself away from her rock to further explore the corridors of her new home.

The fortress was made up of long corridors, often with several doors on either side. The corridors would occasionally split, leading to a branch of more corridors with their own doors. Most were empty. Boring. Good hiding places if she needed them but nothing worth exploring.

There was one problem with this place.

It was too… samey. In a proper cavern or even the mines, there were ways to tell where she was. Markings on the wall, odd outcroppings of rocks or stalactites overhead in the more natural caverns. Here, there were stone brick corridors and stone tiled floors. Each corridor was the same as the last.

Zharja didn’t want to admit it, but she had no idea which way to go to get back to her rock.

Tongue darting from between her lips, Zharja tasted the air, identifying a number of different scents. In a split second, her mind categorized each and every one. She dismissed the scent of leather, cloth, metal, wood, and other inanimates. None were important. It was just the scent of the building around her and the items within. They couldn’t hurt her.

It was the other scents that had her tail twitching with nervous tension.

Sweat, muscle, meat. There were orcs here. The strange creature with a smell she couldn’t quite place had told her that. The taste they left in the air was similar to humans except more… volatile. Aggressive. She could taste the aggression mixed in with their sweat. Their fear as well. Shortly after the new human returned, the taste of the orcs changed. The anger had spiked and the fear permeated the air.

The strange creature warned the gorgon against interacting with the orcs, at least for a while.

That was fine with Zharja. She had no intentions of interacting with anyone if she could help it.

Moving down the corridors, Zharja found herself drawn to a room of heat that smelled strongly of metal and sweat. The corridors of the fortress weren’t exactly cold—warmer than the mines—but if she were in charge of the place, the lights that heated her rock would be lining every corridor.

Turning a corner, she approached the warmest door in the new hall. It, like all other doors in this place, swung open for her as soon as she approached.

A truly massive hearth, lit with bright orange coals, dominated the entire back wall of the room. Large bellows pumped up and down on their own, attached by chains. A rack of metal ingots lined another wall while flowing water ran through troughs on the opposite side of the room. In between, several anvils sat out on the floor.

An orc stood at one of the anvils, raising a hammer and bringing it down on a bit of metal. Sparks erupted into the air with every strike.

At her appearance, the orc paused. He looked over to Zharja and immediately froze.

Zharja stared back. So much for not disturbing the orcs of this fortress.

She didn’t know why the elders of the den had chosen to abandon one human for another. She supposed it was better that Arkk wasn’t deceiving them as Savren had done. Although she thought the den would be better off on its own—at least, she had thought that before growing to like her rock and the plentiful food—still, she had no intentions of causing trouble. Savren had never seen fit to punish her for any transgressions. She didn’t want to give their new leader cause.

“I am not going to turn you to sstone,” Zharja said, hoping this orc wouldn’t panic and call down Arkk on them. She deliberately glanced away, looking down at the item he had been hammering out.

A gauntlet? Made for humans—or something else with five fingers.

The orc jolted, staring contest broken. Clearing his throat, he reached into the pouch on his apron and pulled out a ragged, blackened cloth. Wiping it over his face might have mopped up some of the orc’s sweat but it only served to smear around the soot.

“Heard there were gorgon around,” he grumbled, still staring at her. “You need something or just scaring people for no good reason.”

Not willing to admit that she had gotten lost, Zharja slowly moved about the room, examining the racks of half-finished weapons on the walls, bits of armor pieces, and the odd components that looked like they were made for larger contraptions. “You are a craftssman?”

“I volunteered for the forge. Better than marching or fighting,” the orc said, wiping his face once again. It had little effect. “Think I’m actually getting good at it these days.”

“What are you working on?”

He held up the vambrace he had been working on. “Arkk wants all fighters fully armored and ready for battle. Don’t know why. Orcs have tough skin. Cover the vitals. Cover the arms to block blows. Take everything else and bare the scars with pride.”

“I ssee. What battle approachess?”

“Hopefully nothing,” the orc said, relaxing enough to pick up his hammer once again. “Got some humans breathing down our necks,” he said, slamming his hammer down. “But he’s got a plan for dealing with them without a big fight. This is just in case.” A few sparks jumped up as he hammered again. “You wanting armor? Never made anything for a snake before. Might be interesting.”

“I have tough sscales,” Zharja said, echoing his statement. “Clothess and armor would get in the way,” she said, slithering around as a demonstration.

“Maybe down there, but your head? Chest? You got vitals in there?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Where is your heart? Your stomach? Your lungs?”

Zharja blinked. How would she know? She had never seen inside herself.

Perhaps one of the elders would know.

“Well, probably doesn’t matter much right now,” the orc said, slamming his hammer down again. “Too busy with this work. Perhaps later.”

“Perhapss.” Zharja moved closer to the door. “I sshall leave you to your work.”

The orc didn’t respond, his focus returned to his hammering before the doors closed behind Zharja.

Zharja remained outside for a short moment before slithering down the hall in the same direction she had come from. If this was the orc section of the fortress, she didn’t want to meet any others. The first had been pleasant enough. There was no guarantee that any others would be the same.

A despondent, lithe grace hit Zharja’s tongue as she explored the corridors. Elves, it had to be. There weren’t as many elves as there were orcs. One of them smelled more like a human than an elf but the other two… Death lingered in the air around them. Perhaps that was why all three smelled distraught.

She did not head toward the scent. Meeting with the orc had been enough interaction for the day.

Other scents hit her as she tasted the air once again. Not far from the sad elves, she could taste more humans. Again, not very many compared to the orcs. If she hadn’t already met the leaders of this place, she would have thought the orcs were in charge.

One room smelled of books and Savren. Zharja moved right past without a second glance. Although she had been warned against interacting with the orcs, she didn’t care much about them one way or the other. That indifference did not extend to Savren. His… betrayal stung. Zharja wasn’t sure that she would be able to stop herself from turning him to stone if he stepped in front of her.

Beyond the room of books, Zharja came across a room that smelled of cut trees. A thick layer of wood dust coated the floor outside the door. She paused in it, feeling it under her scales. It was an interesting sensation. Like dirt but smoother. It soaked up the little moisture on her scales. Not an unpleasant feeling.

Zharja’s delay cost her. The door swung open of its own accord.

“—lesson time with Zu—Ah!”

A tiny human stepped out, bumping right into Zharja.

Zharja looked down, waiting with mild resignation for the tiny human to start screaming. Instead, the girl just stared up with wide eyes. A quick taste of the air detected a slight sensation of fear, but nothing close to what she expected.

“You are so pretty.”

Zharja blinked.

“Hale! Get away!”

Looking up from the tiny human, Zharja saw an older man further back in the workshop. There was the fear. Despite that fear, the old man still rushed forward, grabbed the small human around the waist, and pulled her back.

“Get off me,” the human grumbled. “Arkk wouldn’t let something run around that would hurt me.”

“You don’t know that,” the older human said, not taking his eyes off Zharja. Which, when dealing with a gorgon, was one of the more foolish things to do.

It was a good thing that Zharja wasn’t about to stone them.

Zharja looked away from the two, about to continue without another word. An extra taste hit the air before she could move. It just appeared out of nowhere.

Arkk stood between her and the door to the workshop. “Is there a problem? Zharja, right?”

“I wass exploring,” Zharja said, keeping her hissing as neutral as she could manage. “The tiny human bumped into me.”

The small human stiffened, dark hair on either side of her head twitching as she straightened her back. “It was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going. And then this old man went and panicked,” she said with a glare over her shoulder. “The snake lady didn’t do anything bad.”

“Snake lady?”

“Of course! Look at how pretty she is.”

Zharja looked down at her iridescent black scales. They weren’t gleaming much at the moment. She would have said that she looked fairly dull. “I will be sshedding ssoon. My sscales will regain their lusster after.”

“Can I see?” the tiny human asked, stepping closer again now that the old man had let her go.

Zharja stared down for a long moment before twitching her head. Realizing that the human wouldn’t recognize her motions, she affected a shrug. “Perhapss I sshall return then.”

The little human flashed a grin before immediately trying to look more mature, like the older humans. “Thank you,” she said, bowing her head.

A long moment of quiet fell on the strange group before Arkk finally spoke. “Well, if there are no problems—”

“Wait,” Zharja said.

“Yes?”

Zharja glanced back to the other two humans before motioning with two fingers further down the corridor. She wasn’t sure how far humans could hear but did know that everyone said they had bad hearing. A few body lengths away, she stopped. Looking at Arkk, she hesitated.

“What’s wrong? If Hale is bothering you—”

“No… No. Jusst. Which way to my rock?”

Hawkwood sat at his desk, staring down at the latest report from the Duke.

The Kingdom of Chernlock was made up of four states. Chernlock itself, the seat of the kingdom, occupied the largest portion of the continent to the south. Most of it was a desert but several underground rivers allowed civilization to thrive, especially when combined with the fertile swaths of land all along the Chernlock River. To its east, the Principality of Lockloch was a fairly small territory but contained valuable mineral deposits and the largest lake on the continent, providing fresh water to the entire region. North of Lockloch, the Principality of Vaales dominated much of the northeastern edge of the continent and possessed a large navy.

The Duchy of Mystakeen, north of Chernlock and west of Vaales, was a forested and mountainous territory. It didn’t have too many special features. Just mounts, trees, and adequate farmland. The only thing that made it notable was that it was the only one of the kingdom’s territories that bordered another nation.

The Duchy maintained a strong military. It had to. The Evestani Sultanate wasn’t always the most friendly of neighbors. It was part of the reason why White Company was exclusively contracted to the Duke. Reserve forces—or, more likely, fodder—while the rest of the nation prepared in the event of an invasion.

In the last hundred days, the peace seemed to be wearing thin. If the Duke’s spymaster was to be believed, Evestani was marshaling its forces. The spymaster didn’t know why they were suddenly building up their army—if they did, they hadn’t seen fit to inform Hawkwood about it—but that didn’t change what was likely to happen.

“Thirty years since the last war ended,” Hawkwood mumbled, taking a drink from his teacup. “Fifty years since the last war began. How long will this one last?”

“Not long if they put you in charge, Sir.”

Lowering the spymaster’s report, Hawkwood looked up. His adjutant, Neil, stepped through the door, holding a few more papers in his hands.

“Doubt I’ll be doing much. Throwing away good men while the proper armies make sure their swords are polished.” He let out a long sigh. “More word from the spymaster?” he asked, nodding toward his adjutant’s papers.

“Not quite. You asked me to keep informed of Company Al-Mir’s activities.”

Welcoming the distraction, Hawkwood hurriedly waved Neil further into the room. “And what has Arkk been up to since he fought off that horde of monsters at Darkwood?”

“It seems some inquisitors took interest in his activities after that. Reports say they cleared out the remainder of the monsters at Darkwood and now they’re poking around some Cursed Forest south of Smilesville Burg.”

Smilesville… Hawkwood turned around in his chair, facing the large map of the territory. It took him a few moments to find it. “Not far from Langleey. Wasn’t that where Arkk said he was from? He seemed like a good sort. Wonder what they’re doing.”

“It might have something to do with what he did after.”

“After? Wasn’t he wounded?”

“Back on his feet, according to this. Arkk and a single associate—a demihuman of undetermined type—showed themselves at Silver City one week ago.”

Hawkwood clapped a hand to his forehead, rubbing at his hair. “The gorgon job. I told him not to take it. Two people aren’t enough to assault a den of gorgon. Was he there for other matters?”

“No. He marched through the town with several dead chickens slung over his shoulders.”

“Poison? Gorgons would have smelled it.”

“Not sure. All we know is that he entered the mines alone, according to witnesses.”

Hawkwood closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. “Shame.”

“He walked out about two hours after, helping several formerly petrified humans back to the village. Claimed he dealt with the gorgon and that they wouldn’t be back.”

“Excuse me?”

“Silver City’s baron, Geno, tried to throw a feast. Arkk just left. Didn’t even take the reward they were offering. They sent a few volunteers into the mines and couldn’t find any trace of the gorgon.”

“I… Good thing I wasn’t taking a drink of my tea. I might have made a mess.”

“It gets better.”

Hawkwood raised an eyebrow. “He did something else?”

“Did you hear what happened to Hope’s Rest Village?”

“Terrible business,” Hawkwood said with a nod of his head. “Some kind of stasis spell over the entire village.”

“Well, two days ago, Arkk found a ritual circle hidden behind a wall in the catacombs beneath the village church. Destroying the ritual circle woke up the villagers. The village is lost—without anyone to tend to the crops, pretty much everything died. Our illustrious duke wanted to send tax collectors out upon the news reaching him—”

“Bastard.”

“—but was convinced not to by one of his advisors. The elf, I gather.”

“Good thing someone in his manor has some sense to them. I don’t suppose she convinced him to send some of his taxed goods as support?”

Adjutant Neil shook his head slowly. “Not sure what is going to happen to the village yet. I’d put coin down on them splitting apart to nearby villages that will take them in.”

“At least the people survived. They can always return to their homes in the spring and try to get their village going.”

Neil didn’t say anything. He merely set down the papers he had been looking over while delivering his report, allowing Hawkwood to read them at his leisure.

“Sounds like Arkk did some good. More than good. Estimates were six to ten gorgon? Would have lost half our company clearing them out. And he recovered the petrified miners then casually went…” Hawkwood trailed off, looking back to his map. He found the mountains where Silver City was nestled then dragged his eyes across the Duchy to Hope, not too far from Cliff. The distance between the two wasn’t insignificant. A single rider could travel much faster than a group, but to make it across Mystakeen in a week?

“Huh.”

“Something wrong?” Neil asked.

“No, no. Just thinking,” Hawkwood said with a shake of his head. “Arkk did very well for himself. Glad I had the opportunity to help guide him along, even if it seems like he ignored my advice about the gorgon. Any chance we can lean on the inquisitors and get them to back off?”

“I could ask around.”

“Do it. See if you can figure out what they’re after and maybe get them to back off. Saving two villages? Doesn’t deserve to be hounded like that.”

“Understood, Sir.” Neil ducked his head, bowing out of the room.

“Before you go,” Hawkwood said, frowning down at his empty teacup. “See if you can’t get some more Evestani tea imported. And quickly.” His eyes drifted over to the spymaster’s report. “Might not have much of a chance in the near future.”

 

 

“You know, I come in here with gifts. I try to be nice. I explain what is going on…”

Arkk looked over the gorgon, feeling strangely calm. Stupid. Yes. He had his eyes open, staring at creatures that could turn him to stone with eye contact. Still, the tranquility running under the surface managed to suppress the instinct to flee in fear. Maybe his calmness came from the fact that he probably wouldn’t even know what hit him if they decided to attack. Vezta would surely go on a rampage. At that point, Arkk wouldn’t be in much of a position to worry or care.

Either this worked or it wasn’t his problem anymore. That thought was strangely freeing.

He had the full attention of the gorgon now. Were glowing eyes that big of a deal? It was true that when that purifier had been chasing him and Zullie around the Cliff Academy’s tunnels, he had found the glowing embers of her eyes unnerving. To command the attention of creatures entire mercenary companies wanted to avoid with just a look?

Arkk might have to be even more careful in the future to not let people he didn’t want to know see his eyes like this.

“I know you’re upset. Or if you aren’t yet, you will be if you manage to see through Savren’s illusions.” Arkk paused, looking around as if daring them to petrify him. “But I need him alive. I’m willing to offer food and shelter in exchange. Maybe more than that. Meaningful work. Magical tomes. Other things you might want. Or you can walk away.” Arkk paused, looking downward at the nearest gorgon. “Or… slither away. Or you can even stay here, though the threat of an oncoming army of humans is looming on the horizon.

“But I need him alive.”

The orange gorgon that Vezta had knocked aside said something in an elongated hissing noise. Arkk made sure not to look directly at it, feeling like that was the most likely gorgon to try to turn him to stone at this moment, but he still caught its movements in the corner of his eye. From the way it looked at Arkk and bared its fangs once again, it was probably something like ‘Kill the human!’

Vezta’s tendril sliced through the air in front of it. If she wasn’t keeping her eyes closed, she probably would have taken its head off. As it was, the swipe passed just in front of its snout, making it stop its advance before it could begin.

Arkk didn’t flinch, trusting Vezta to keep it at bay. He settled his gaze on the green gorgon, putting as much intent into his gaze as possible. He had suffered too many setbacks, too many failures. He wasn’t going to falter again without a fight.

“So. What will it be? Take my offerings? Walk away? I don’t mind if you confront him as long as he stays alive.”

A smattering of hissing started up around him. From their earlier voting, it seemed like they would go with whatever the majority decided, not whatever the green one said. Still, it had been the spokesperson—spokes snake?—so far, so Arkk didn’t look away.

The hissed dialog of the other snakes petered out after a few seconds. The green snake hadn’t joined in, choosing to stare back.

Eventually, it spoke.

“Sstarss…”

Arkk quirked an eyebrow. The tight grip of his fist loosened as he stared with a little less determination and a little more confusion. “Excuse me?”

“The human sspeakss with the power of the ancientss,” the green gorgon said. “Ssavren iss a traitor and desseiver.”

“You… believe me now. Just like that?”

“The ssirkessh honor the old wayss,” the green snake said, bowing its head.

Arkk blinked twice, watching as several of the others also ducked their heads. The orange one that had attacked Arkk didn’t. Neither did the brown one that had also voted to kill him. The iridescent black gorgon looked around in what Arkk assumed was confusion as did a red and black gorgon. The other four were practically bowing—or whatever the equivalent was for beings that lacked a defined waist.

“Vezta,” Arkk whispered. “What’s going on?”

“In my former master’s days, snakelike beings lived in the [UNDERWORLD],” Vezta whispered into Arkk’s ear. “Keepers brought them over to this plane. These gorgon must be descendants of the beings I once knew. I presume they remember their ancestral allegiances.”

“Half of them do,” Arkk said, looking to the four who hadn’t bowed down. “Is there a proper response to this?”

“That would have been my former master’s domain of expertise, not mine. I suggest you make minions of them as soon as possible to prevent them from changing their minds and backstabbing you without warning.”

Arkk took a breath and slowly walked forward, ending up even more encircled by the gathering of gorgon in the narrow tunnel. “You wish to join me?” he said, louder than the tone he used with Vezta.

The orange one protested immediately, hissing out an obvious objection despite Arkk’s inability to understand exactly what it was saying.

The green gorgon raised its head, glaring at its fellow gorgon as it let out a furious response. Whatever it said, it was clear that everyone was shocked. The other three bowing their heads jerked their heads up to stare at their leader and the three not bowing recoiled slightly. The wide hood around the orange gorgon’s head thinned, pulling in on itself as it seemed to shrink in size.

Before Arkk could ask, the green gorgon turned back to Arkk. “Disscord,” it hissed. “You will confront Ssavren. If Ssavren sslaughterss you, you are unworthy.”

“And I can take him if he doesn’t kill me?”

“We sshall align oursselvess in the interesst of the old wayss.”

Arkk nodded his head. “Acceptable terms.”

“Then come. We sshall deliver you to Ssavren.”

The green-scaled gorgon turned away, slithering ahead down the tunnel. After a slight hesitation, Arkk followed. The other seven gorgon trailed behind, hissing among themselves quietly. Arkk didn’t say a word, moving with full confidence as he descended another staircase.

This was it. He wasn’t quite sure exactly what happened. Something about either his eyes or Vezta’s tendrils had given him an advantage here. It had gotten him what he wanted. He wasn’t about to let this advantage slip away.

The chamber Savren called his home wasn’t far from the second set of stairs. Arkk wasn’t quite sure what the original intention of the room had been. A resting room, presumably, given its beds and the attached latrine. The door wasn’t meant to keep anything out. It was more for privacy.

The green gorgon stopped outside the door, standing off to the side. It dipped its head again as it motioned to the door.

“Vezta,” Arkk said softly, “hide again unless you sense something wrong with me.” Taking a breath, Arkk closed his eyes and let go of the feelings he had been concentrating on. When he opened them again, he was pleased to note a distinct lack of ruby light reflected off the walls of the mine.

With Vezta’s tendrils retracted for now, Arkk stepped up to the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

The largest gorgon Arkk had ever seen sat in a chair with a book open in its five-fingered hand. It was a bit strange to see a gorgon sitting in a chair. The way its long, snake-like tail bent at the ‘knee’ and then just flopped across the room looked incredibly awkward. Rather than a hood behind its head, this gorgon had a hard crest rising from the vibrant blue scales around its eyes, forming into a ridged structure with sharp points at the middle and either side.

The pale blue eyes—which lacked slit pupils—slowly tore away from the book to look up at Arkk.

Something immediately hit Arkk as he met the creature’s eyes. A sensation of fear and awe nearly drove him to stumble back out of the room. Pressure at his back—a tendril under his shirt—kept him in place.

“What is thiss?” Savren hissed, rising off the chair. “I’ve not humored any humans for dinner in a handful of moonss.”

Arkk closed his eyes, taking a brief moment to look at the area through the third-person perspective provided by the employee link with Vezta. When he did so, the illusion shattered. A greasy old man with black, unkempt hair who hadn’t had a bath in months stood at the chair. Not a gorgon.

When Arkk opened his eyes, the gorgon was there once again along with the sensation of awe. The fear of it wasn’t.

“Hello, Savren. Or should I call you the Hope Killer?”

The false gorgon blinked. A slight flinch. “What wearisome waste is this? Why have the others allowed a human into my miness?”

“That awe effect is something interesting. It must be why the other gorgon haven’t noticed that you don’t even elongate your s-sounds properly.”

The gorgon’s lips twisted in a distinctly human sneer. Not the kind of expression Arkk thought the others would be able to make. When his eyes looked up over Arkk’s shoulder, Arkk did a quick check behind him using his Keeper sight. Three gorgon stood in the opening. The green one, the black one, and the brown one. “Khan, Zharja, Vezz. What is the meaning of thiss? Do you deign to disregard my directions not to be disturbed.” Savren turned away, setting his book on top of his desk to the side of a small stack of thick tomes. “Dereliction of duty. Dispose of this dunce then return for your disciplining.”

“Turn me to stone,” Arkk said, stepping further into the room.

Savren whipped his head back. “What?”

“You’re a gorgon. Turn me to stone.”

The gorgon form of Savren shifted in a distinctly humanlike movement of discomfort. “You don’t know what you ask, human. Petrification is a poor penalty, death is preferable. Your body freezes but your faculties still function. You don’t see, you don’t feel, you just think until you succumb to the senseless situation.”

“Not sure why you care. I’m just a human. Go on. Turn me to stone. I won’t blink or look away. Do it. If you can.”

The gorgon’s jaw slid to one side and Arkk heard a very human set of teeth grinding together. “I have no time for this. Khan, dispose of this human. Now.”

Behind Arkk’s back, Arkk watched the three gorgon look at each other. He couldn’t quite read their expressions but if he were to make a guess, he would guess they were a bit angry. Even the orange one, despite its anger at Arkk, looked none too pleased with the actions of their so-called leader.

“I think that is one item checked off my list,” Arkk said, taking his eyes off Savren to look around the room. “How are you maintaining this illusion? A hidden ritual circle somewhere? Or maybe—”

“You… Lumpuhkan yang di depanku—”

“Electro Deus.”

A thin bolt of weak lightning jumped from Arkk’s fingertips to the large gorgon before he could get his incantation off the ground. It wasn’t a powerful bolt. It was still enough to send Savren to his hands and knees.

And he had knees now. Arkk couldn’t guess whether the illusion required mental concentration or if he had an item on his person that the lightning bolt had damaged. Either way, a human knelt on the ground in front of him, panting. He spat a bit of blood out of his mouth, having bit his tongue from the jolt.

“We have sseen enough,” the green gorgon hissed from behind Arkk.

Savren’s head snapped up. He looked down at his grime-coated robes before looking back up with fear in his eyes. “You fool. They’ll kill us both!”

Arkk just slowly shook his head. He looked back over his shoulder.

“The ssirkessh will join you,” the lead gorgon said, dipping its head once again. The other two gorgon dipped their heads as well, though not quite as reverently. The black gorgon still looked confused while the orange one maintained a faint glare.

“You would follow a human?” Savren shouted, disbelief filling his tone.

“We follow the wayss of the sstarss.”

As soon as the gorgon spoke, Arkk felt it. Eight new employee links forming. No exchange of gold necessary. It was more like when Ilya had accidentally joined up as his employee. A bit strange but not something he was going to question. He simply nodded to the gorgon. “Gather up what belongings you might have. We’ll leave these mines as soon as I’m done dealing with Savren.”

“You need him alive,” the green gorgon said—Khan, if Savren had their names right. “We can sstone him if you wissh and return him to normal ssome other time.”

Arkk turned back to Savren as the man let out a long squeaking noise. “I’ll think about it. Let me talk with him first.”

“We undersstand.”

“Wait,” Arkk said before they could slither away. “The humans at the entrance. You can unpetrify them?”

The black gorgon—Zharja—exchanged a look with Khan. “It may be more merssiful to ssmash the sstatuess.”

Arkk shook his head. “Are there other petrified humans in the mines?”

“A ssmall number.”

“Gather them up at the entrance, please. Wait to unpetrify them until I’m ready.”

Khan ducked his head. “We obey.”

Arkk opened his mouth, about to complain about the gorgon’s mannerisms. He got enough subservience from Vezta. Something held his tongue, however. He wasn’t quite sure what their perspective of him was, exactly, but he didn’t want to damage that perspective right now while the situation was still precarious. There would be time to talk to them normally later, once they were all at Fortress Al-Mir.

Instead, he let them slither away.

Turning back to the room, Arkk stepped past Savren, moving to the stack of books. Flipping open one, he looked through a few pages. Mind magic rituals. Mass rituals. Rituals that were intended to affect a large number of people.

Something like what he did at the village of Hope, then.

Movement at his back had him turning.

Savren was trussed up, held by a tentacle at each limb and around his waist. A long, thick rod of knotted wood with a green glowstone attached to the tip fell from his fingers as Vezta’s tendrils twisted his arm. He let out a few pained gasps before she stopped.

“Wha—What are you?”

Arkk stared at him. Blinking his eyes, he welled up his feelings of irritation, making a red light return to the room. “I’m not in the mood,” Arkk said. “I came down here with a gift basket for you in an attempt to appease you. I don’t think I’m going to give you a choice now, however.”

“A choice—gah!”

“Vezta, it’s okay. Come out, would you?”

A few stray tendrils turned into the shadows under Arkk’s feet, reaching inside. They ripped Vezta’s main body out of the darkness, bringing her out into the open. She still managed to maintain her hold over Savren even as she moved about.

“I was already pretty upset with you after I heard what you did to Hope. I was going to try to convince you to undo that over time. Ease you into things. The way you acted just now kind of pissed me off and I was already a bit on edge from dealing with the gorgon. Hope was bad enough but at least they aren’t dead. Do you have any guilt over ordering the death of some random human who had done you no wrong?”

“You were jeopardizing my—” He cut himself off as one of Vezta’s tendrils started worming its way around his throat.

Arkk didn’t bother admonishing her. Instead, he just bent and picked up the large staff that Savren had pointed at him. It was too large to have come from his clothes. It must have been leaning against the wall. He looked it over, wondering what kind of spell it contained. “Maybe I’m just taking it a little personally because it was me,” he said with a small shake of his head. “So here is the deal. You are coming with me. You can do so as a mostly free man or as a prisoner. We are preparing for a large ritual. You will help with it. This is not negotiable. Whether or not I have a use for you after the ritual depends on how cooperative you are. Understand?”

Savren didn’t speak. He did nod his head.

“Good. So,” Arkk said, holding a gold coin in one hand. He had beaten the man over the head with the stick. It was time for the carrot. “Are you going to work with me and walk out of here on your own?” He held out his other hand, motioning toward Vezta. “Or are we being a little more aggressive in getting you out?”

Vezta unleashed one of his hands. There was a slight hesitation but he reached out quickly enough and took the coin from Arkk’s hand.

The employee bond formed. It felt a bit weaker than most others but it was there enough that Arkk didn’t feel like anything was wrong.

Arkk gave Savren a smile. “Vezta. What are you doing? We don’t treat employees this way.”

All of Vezta’s tendrils snapped back to her, dropping Savren into a pile that he quickly picked himself up from. “My apologies, Master.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure Savren is just happy to be free,” Arkk said, watching the man rub at his wrists where Vezta had tethered him. “These books, are there any others around? Anything else valuable?”

Savren stood still, frowning to himself for a long moment before he realized Arkk was talking to him. “Uh. No.” He cleared his throat and tried to smooth down the front of his dirty robes. “Unless you set your sights on the silver.”

“Tempting, but I think I’ll leave that to the villagers. I’m sure they wouldn’t thank me if I set the servants to eating this place.”

“Eating?” Savren said, looking like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

Arkk paid him little mind. “Vezta, can you carry all these and see them back to Fortress Al-Mir’s library?”

“Certainly, Master,” she said, setting several tendrils to pick up the stacks of books. She carried them over to herself and then held them in her regular arms.

“The plan from here is to get the gorgon and Savren back to the fortress,” Arkk said. “You’ll see them through the ritual circles. I will take the villagers back to the village and see how much renown I can get from the village here. Maybe get them to spread Al-Mir’s name far and wide. I’ll even turn down their silver reward,” he said with a grin. “Al-Mir is strong enough to clear out a den of gorgon with only two people and kind enough to do it out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“A most devious plan, Master.”

“Devious?”

“Well, most plans appear devious when you speak them with glowing red eyes.”

Arkk blinked twice. Taking in a deep breath, he allowed his irritation to fade away.

“Much more genuine, Master,” Vezta said with a smile. “Will you be alright here on your own?”

“You saw that village when we passed through it. They’d be throwing me the greatest feast they can manage if I allowed it.” Arkk pressed his lips together. “I won’t, of course. They don’t have the supplies and I’ll need to get back to the fortress as soon as possible. Try to keep the gorgon from interacting with anyone else before I get back. And if Rekk’ar finds out about them, try to keep him from deserting while you’re at it.”

“Understood,” Vezta said, bowing with the books in her arms. “Any other impossible orders for me?”

Arkk looked over at Savren with a frown. “Keep an eye on him.”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Then let’s get out of here.”

 

 

“Is this a good idea, Master?”

As used to Vezta as Arkk was, he still jolted at the way Vezta formed a mouth on one of the tendrils that emerged from the shadow around him. It moved with him, just appearing out of the ground. With his blindfold still in place, he only saw it through his employee sight. That only made it all the eerier, watching as it seemed to slide along the ground, inhuman maw facing him.

Despite being unnerved, he put on a smile. “I trust you to keep the gorgon away should they attack.”

The tendril sighed, an odd mannerism from the fleshy limb, and then retreated into the shadows.

“I do have a quick question though,” Arkk said, not pausing as he hurried after the gorgon. He stumbled a bit, tripping over rocks that he couldn’t see. Glowstones in the cave let him see where he was going now that they weren’t being washed out by the daylight outside but the perspective with which he saw occluded the ground directly in front of him. It took a bit of care not to fall on his face. “At Darkwood, several different monsters were working together for that enemy Keeper. Including a monster that I was assured would never work alongside its own kind. Is there something about the Heart that… encourages cooperation, for lack of a better term?”

“As far as I understand it,” Vezta said, tendril emerging once again, “the [HEART] does not impose any mental magic like what we suspected this spellcaster to be capable of. If someone with a bond intends to attack you, the bond will be broken immediately.”

“And that bond doesn’t falter between employees no matter their intentions,” Arkk mumbled to himself, thinking back to the times the orcs tried attacking one another. “Do you have any explanation for the cooperation of the Darkwood ghasts?”

The tendril shook in a way that Arkk recognized as a negative. “Perhaps being bound to the same entity instilled a sense of comradery that the creatures normally lack? Why do you ask, if I may?”

“Just trying to figure out how best to use everything to our advantage,” Arkk said, falling silent as the long tunnel opened up into a much wider cavern. Wooden planks laid out in the tunnel provided extra footing. More wood had been brought in here, anchored to the walls as a rickety staircase that descended into the mine.

The gorgon he had been chasing after didn’t traverse the stairs as easily as the relatively flat tunnel, giving Arkk plenty of time to catch up.

“Wait!”

The gorgon turned its head upward.

Arkk felt something. A tingle in his fingertips and toes. For an instant, he feared he miscalculated with the blindfold. The feeling didn’t progress. A quick check of his hand showed no sign of stone. Shrugging the sensation off as nerves, he turned his head down to fully meet with the gorgon below. “What are you going to do?”

“If the human valuess itss life, the human would leave before drawing the attention of my den.”

“I need to speak with that human,” Arkk said.

“The den won’t allow that human to live after desseiving uss.”

“Yes, well, how are you going to convince your den that he’s a human? You open that door and I bet he looks like a snake again. It is your word against his and your den’s eyes.”

That comment got the gorgon to narrow its eyes.

“The human is a powerful spellcaster,” Arkk continued. “He put an entire human settlement into some kind of sleep that they haven’t woken from even after months. Who knows what he might do if he thinks you all are turning on him.”

“Thiss iss a matter for uss. What iss your sstake, human?”

“He is a powerful spellcaster,” Arkk said. “I’m conducting a ritual that requires many powerful spellcasters, so I would prefer if you didn’t try to kill him. Also, I’m sure people would be very happy if he would undo whatever spell he put over that human village I mentioned.”

“None matterss to uss.”

Arkk pressed his lips together. “I suppose I should have expected that.”

The gorgon turned away, resuming its slow trek down the stairs. Arkk continued after it. “Hold on, you still have to convince the other—”

A loud hissing noise cut Arkk off. It didn’t come from the gorgon he was following but rather from one of the large tunnels branching out into the walls at the bottom of the stairs. He froze, though the other gorgon did not.

The green-scaled gorgon emerged from the tunnel. Larger than the black one with a more masculine frame, it rushed straight to the stairs in a move that made Arkk take a few steps back up. It didn’t rush up the stairs, thankfully, but rather stopped at the black gorgon. They engaged in a rapid series of hissing along with undulating movements of their tails that must have had some kind of meaning. Arkk didn’t understand any of it.

“If they start attacking, collapse the stairs below me?” he mumbled, watching from above.

Vezta didn’t respond verbally but Arkk noted dark tendrils emerging from the shadows to wrap around several of the stairs ahead of him.

As the two gorgon spoke—or communicated—more started emerging from the same tunnel the green one had passed through. In short order, Arkk was pretty sure all of the mine’s eight gorgon were gathered down below, sporting a variety of colors. Green, red and black, yellowy orange, and brown. Only about half of them were actively participating in the argument. The others had taken up positions slithering back and forth at the base of the stairs, waiting for the command to surge upward.

Something the iridescent black gorgon said gave even the ones passively listening pause. It pointed up toward Arkk before swinging its arm over to another tunnel that, from his scrying, Arkk knew led down to where Savren had taken up residence. It then held out its hands, making a spherical motion. Arkk presumed it was talking about the crystal ball.

The deep viridescent snake turned its head upward, aiming emerald green eyes at Arkk. “Human,” it said, voice deeper than Arkk expected yet still maintaining that breathy quality that the iridescent snake had. “Sshow us of what sshe sspeakss.”

“The crystal ball?” Arkk didn’t need to turn his head to look around with the way he was seeing the area. He did so anyway. If the way the snakes had been moving while talking was any indication, body language was important for the gorgon. “What assurances do I have that you won’t attack me if I go down there?”

The viridescent snake drew itself up a little higher. “None.”

“Oh. Well, that’s inviting,” Arkk mumbled. “Do you think you can take on all eight at once?”

He felt something squirming up his back. Warm breath tickled his ear as Vezta spoke from just behind his shoulder. “With my eyes closed, I can do little but thrash wildly.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s an ‘I wish my master wouldn’t be so foolish as to descend into the gorgon den.’”

“Since you aren’t protesting more, I’ll take that as a yes,” Arkk said. Louder, he called down to the gathered gorgon. “Alright. I brought gifts. I know you all have been eating rats and I can’t imagine they’re very appealing, so please, enjoy these chickens,” he said, leaving the basket behind so that he could hold the chicken out. The basket was for Savren anyway with its fruits, vegetables, and bread. “And if you don’t attack me, I could probably get more,” he added, descending.

Reaching the bottom, the four that had been slithering back and forth didn’t rush him. He took that as a good sign. Holding the chicken out brought them a little closer, obviously wary. Their tongues kept darting out, licking the air around him. One with an orange diamond pattern down its back snatched a pair of chickens from him as he slowly walked forward. It tasted the air around the chicken in its hands for a long moment before opening its mouth far too wide. Snapping the string that kept the two chickens attached, it reared its head back and shoved the entire bird down its throat, whole. Larry had plucked them before Arkk left but he wondered if that would have even mattered as he watched the snake’s throat visibly constrict and pull the chicken further down into its long body.

None of the others came for the chicken. While Arkk watched in a disgusted fascination that he couldn’t quite look away from, the other gorgon watched as well though with a different purpose, maybe expecting the orange one to keel over from poison.

After a moment, it settled down on its coils, making a noise. An odd buzzing noise. Almost like a cat purring, but not quite as… soothing. Still, it seemed to be a noise of contentment.

Another gorgon picked up the discarded chicken and began the same air-tasting process before it too decided to eat it whole. That broke the tension over the rest. All except the black and green snakes quickly relieved Arkk of his gifts. There was a whole chicken for each of them. That left him holding one pair, which he held out as he approached the two remaining snakes.

The black one accepted it, snapping the string tying the chickens together before handing the spare over. The green gorgon didn’t take it, however, staring over Arkk. It left the black one behind, circling Arkk while its tongue darted out of its mouth.

“I’m not here to be enemies,” Arkk said, speaking with as much confidence as he could muster. The gorgon accepting his offerings helped bolster his confidence quite a bit. It would help even more if that Drought of Rest he had soaked them in actually worked. “In fact, now that I know the situation here isn’t what I expected, I think—”

“You ssmell of the sstarss,” the green gorgon hissed as it came to a stop a little too close for comfort.

Arkk licked his dry lips. It could smell Vezta? “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“That remainss to be sseen.”

Ever since he had been a child, he had quizzed everyone who came to Langleey Village on every topic he could think of. While that impulse had died out a little as he got older, it hadn’t died completely. None had mentioned stars until just the other week ago. The inquisitors had mentioned an unusual smell around him as well. Unable to help his curiosity, Arkk had to ask, “What do stars smell like, anyway?”

The green snake’s tongue shot out into the air again, wiggling up and down for a few seconds before snapping back into its mouth. It turned away without answering, returning to the iridescent black snake. It took a lot longer to taste the air around the final remaining chicken than any of the others had taken but still eventually ate it, shoving the whole thing down its throat.

Arkk let out a small sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure if the contentment the others were showing off was from his alchemical solution to this problem or if they were just happy to have a large good meal. Either way, it couldn’t be bad for him.

“Anyway, yes. The other person here is a human, not a gorgon. He’s a master of mind-affecting magics which is probably why you don’t think he is human.” Arkk slowly, not wanting to make any startling moves, reached down into his pouch and retrieved the crystal ball once again. He probably should have asked the first gorgon if it knew what a crystal ball was and how it worked but it seemed to work out. “So, here we are,” he said, showing off the large room they were in. “And if we move the view down that tunnel over there…”

Several of the gorgon gathered around, peering into the crystal ball. Figuring the green gorgon was the leader given that it was the one who ordered him down here to show this off and was the last to eat the chicken, Arkk tried to pay them little mind as he focused his attention forward. Even still, when he moved the view of the crystal ball into Savren’s quarters, he felt the tension in the air spike.

“This man is Savren. A human criminal wanted for putting an entire village to sleep. We thought he was controlling your minds but it seems as if he has merely been posing as a gorgon.”

“The room,” the black gorgon said, pointing a finger at the crystal ball. “You can ssee the bookss. The chair. We’ve sseen the room and yet itss a human.”

“The ball sshowss liess.”

“It’s just a crystal ball,” Arkk said, feeling a little nervous as a smattering of hissing began from the others around. “If you know how to use one, you can try it yourself without me.”

“We confront Ssavren,” the black gorgon said. “Reveal which human iss desseiving uss.”

“Ssavren is not to be disturbed.”

The black gorgon let out a long, irritated hiss.

“Why?” Arkk cut in before a fight could break out. The way they immediately turned their heads toward him made him think it was a bad idea. Too late now. “Why? If I’ve assembled my timeline correctly, he came here between a few weeks and a month after you all moved in. He isn’t your leader, is he? If he is, how did he become your leader?”

Perhaps there was more mind magic going on than he had thought.

“When exactly did Savren first appear? Why did you start turning to him, following his commands to bring him food and water? He never leaves his quarters, does he? How often do you actually see him?”

Arkk’s questioning seemed to stall the green-scaled gorgon. He could almost see the wheels turning in its mind.

“We will dissturb Ssavren.”

“As soon as you open the door, he’s going to look like a gorgon again.”

Arkk wasn’t sure how he was pulling off his mental magics. A lengthy incantation probably wouldn’t be fast enough. Perhaps he had some ritual circle prepared that he only needed to flood with magic or maybe he was using a magic wand to store his spell. However it was, Arkk doubted that simply opening the door would cause his ploy to fail.

“Let me talk to him,” Arkk said. “I have no weapons on me. If he is a gorgon, he’ll be able to crush me in an instant and you all can go back to your lives. If he isn’t, I can handle him myself. And then…” Arkk trailed off, glancing around. “Then I might have a proposition for you all.”

“More food?” a red and black striped gorgon asked.

“As much as you can eat,” Arkk said. “In a safe location.”

“We are ssafe here.”

“Are you?” Arkk asked, cocking his head. “You might not know this, but the humans that used to work here have a large amount of silver that they are offering to an army that can kill you all.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie but the wording got the intended effect. The gorgon started hissing at one another. Although sedate after having fed, they were getting riled up.

“Can we fight an army?”

“It doessn’t matter. Ssavren will sslaughter the human.”

“The army will sstill be there whether or not thiss human diess.”

“We’ll be punisshed if the human intrudess. Kill it now.”

“I alwayss thought Ssavren acted sstrangely…”

“We sshould confront Ssavren oursselvess. The human cannot be trussted.”

“Ssilence!” The green gorgon slithered around, moving back and forth among the others. “Who ssuggesstss we sslaughter the human now?”

Arkk tensed, looking around through his Keeper sight. He let out a small sigh of relief as only two of the gorgon slithered forward in response. One orange and one brown snake. The latter looked around as if expecting others to join it, giving another brown gorgon a look of betrayal as it did so.

“It promissed food.”

“The human liess.”

“No lie,” Arkk said. “I have a safe, underground home with as much chicken as you could stuff yourselves wit—”

“The human will remain ssilent,” the green gorgon said, coming a little close for comfort. “You will live. For now.” Backing away, it turned back to the rest of the assembled gorgon. “Who would have the human sspeak for uss in front of Ssavren?”

Arkk looked around again, wincing as he noted not a single one of the gorgon moving.

His plan to get Savren out of here wasn’t looking too good at the moment.

“Who would confront Ssavren oursselvess?”

This time, only one of the gorgon remained behind. The orange gorgon who had first come forward for chicken. The same gorgon who had expressed fear over Savren punishing them and one of the two who had just voted to kill Arkk.

“A conssenssuss hass been reached. We sshall confront Ssavren and ask for proof.”

“He is a mind-affecting spellcaster. He could—”

“Ssilence.”

Arkk stepped back as the green gorgon got in his face once again. He could see the shadows underneath him twisting, reading themselves to attack. The gorgon didn’t, however, choosing instead to just stick out its tongue once again.

“You ssmell far too confident for your possition, human of the sstars.”

“I don’t feel all that confident,” Arkk mumbled, mind racing as he tried to figure out a way to salvage at least some of this trip.

“Ssavren or the human liess. We will kill the liar.”

If the gorgon killed Savren, he would have to look elsewhere for a spellcaster and he had absolutely no other leads. Vezta could probably stop them but that put both of them at risk. All it would take would be a little bite from one of them to kill. Arkk wasn’t sure if Vezta could survive that with her unique physiology but he certainly couldn’t. Besides, if he could get the gorgon to Fortress Al-Mir, it would help on a few different fronts. First, they were strong and powerful enough that their mere presence made mercenary companies wary of venturing in here. Second, if the inquisitors did find their way into the main fortress, a glance from their petrifying gaze would put an end to that incursion.

Third, he would gain renown. Single-handedly saving Silver City from destruction by clearing out their mines? Doing a job entire mercenary companies were afraid of on his own? Even dragging a kicking-and-screaming daughter of a viscount back wouldn’t be worth as much as saving a whole city.

Then, if he could convince Savren to undo whatever he had done to the village of Hope, that would be a second settlement saved in the same fell swoop. That was in addition to his participation in the ritual.

If the Duke refused to invite Company Al-Mir to a party after saving two whole cities, nothing would get him in.

Now, it looked like at least half of those things were going to crumble to pieces, if not all of them. The gorgon were slithering away, heading for the tunnel that led down to Savren’s quarters. There, they would likely kill him or he would convince them to kill Arkk.

“Wait!” Arkk called, stepping after them. His mind raced, trying to come up with something to say to convince them of anything.

A black and red gorgon turned and hissed at him but Arkk kept walking, looking at the green-scaled one. It was the leader here.

What did the gorgon want? As a collective, safety and food. Was there more than that? Revenge against the human deceiver in their midst—whoever they ended up deciding that would be. There had to be more. What kind of hopes and dreams did they have? What could Arkk offer them?

Gold didn’t seem all that useful for the gorgon. It was a human and demihuman currency. They didn’t interact with humans at all. What else? Books? They hadn’t thought it was strange for Savren to be reading books. Could they learn magic? Would they want to?

If he could show them Fortress Al-Mir, let them create their living quarters, see the hatcheries, and even browse the library, would that help?

Arkk, running after the snakes with his blindfold in place, missed a step and stumbled down a sudden slope in the passage. He swung his arms about, trying to regain his balance before slamming into the floor—or worse, slamming into one of the gorgon.

A tendril, stretching out from the shadows, caught him.

As he felt his balance return, he looked around. The gorgon had paused their advance down the tunnel, attention pulled by his flailing and possibly a yelp he had made upon first stumbling.

One of the gorgon came up to him, the orange one that had voted to kill him earlier. It raised its arm and opened its mouth wide with its fangs extended.

“Vezta.”

A dark tendril swept around him. It wasn’t the precise attack that Arkk was used to. It still smacked into the gorgon, flinging it against one of the walls. Three more tendrils emerged from the shadows, wiggling with hostile intent around him.

He thought for just a moment that the others would rush in and attack all at once.

They didn’t.

With all eyes on him, Arkk tensed. This was his moment to say something. Possibly his last words before they confronted Savren. Maybe his last words period. He stared for a long moment, mind racing until the wheels clicked together. Looking at the gorgon’s eyes through his Keeper vision reminded him of something Dakka had said back in Cliff City.

These gorgon didn’t respect him. They didn’t respect some human coming into their den, upsetting the balance of things, bringing gifts and sniveling like a coward.

Arkk took a breath and reached up behind his head. He tugged at the blindfold around his eyes. Focusing on his ire at the situation, at all he was working toward nearly coming to failure once again, and at the thought of finally getting things working in his direction for once.

Letting the strip of cloth fall from his eyes, Arkk stared at the ground for a moment before raising his gaze to meet with the potentially deadly eyes of the snakes around him. As he did so, a bright red light flooded the corridor, coming from him.

Glowing eyes are an ominous omen, Dakka had said.

Arkk, tendrils wiggling around him, turned his head slowly and made sure everyone saw his eyes. “I said, wait.”

 

 

Silver City did not live up to its name. It wasn’t silver, though Arkk hadn’t expected it to be. It wasn’t a city either. Barely larger than Smilesville Burg, Silver City lacked walls, expansive farmland, a stayover, and even a church. Nestled against the wrong side of a mountain, the moist smell of mildew permeated every one of the tightly-packed homes and storage warehouses.

Despite the state of the mine putting the miners out of work, the settlement was still populated. It might have been better had the people scattered to the winds. Everywhere Arkk looked, people were downtrodden, covered in filth, and gaunt. The latter issue was all the more apparent in the children that roamed the streets. Their bony arms and knobby knees reminded Arkk of a famine that had hit Langleey in his youth. They had managed to get some help from Smilesville.

The Baron of this village probably traded the goods from the mine for the bulk of their food. The farmland was too small to support this place on its own. Fewer farms meant more people working the mines. As long as they had goods to trade, the more miners they could get, the better.

Normally. Without the goods from the mines, their survival would rely on altruism from the nearby settlements.

And it didn’t look like anyone was helping here. Certainly not the Duke with his droves of taxed food and goods. With the air chilly and winter setting in, it would only get worse.

Arkk and Vezta on their own would have drawn plenty of looks. Vezta especially. She wasn’t bothering to hide most of her inhuman nature, having donned a cloak but was still walking in the open with her dark violet skin and a multitude of moving eyes set about her body. Despite that, Arkk was pretty sure the villagers gathering in their wake were far more interested in the chickens hanging from his and Vezta’s shoulders.

“Maybe we should have taken one more teleportation circle directly to the mine entrance,” he whispered to Vezta. “All the scrying I did and I never thought to scry on the actual village. Maybe we should give them our food and come back with more for the mines?”

“The meager food we carry is intended for eight gorgon and one human. All we would accomplish is starting a riot as the have-nots attack those who would receive our gift.”

“Then—”

“Fortress Al-Mir’s hatchery is far too small to support a population of this size. While it is possible to expand, it wouldn’t be up and running for some time. We only have a few days before the inquisitors arrive. If you wish to delay…”

“No,” Arkk said, firming his shoulders as took his gaze off the gathering villagers. “But I might ask that Savren send the gorgon away before we leave. That will do more good for the village than a few chickens.”

“A wise decision.”

“I am a little surprised they aren’t trying to attack us.”

“Curiosity and wariness hold them at bay. Curious about our presence and intentions with the food. Wary of me.”

Arkk blinked and glanced to his side.

He started, jolting as he realized Vezta wasn’t just not bothering to hide but actively flaunting her inhuman nature. Outside the comforts and privacy of Fortress Al-Mir, she normally formed proper legs from the mass that made up her body. Not today. A large mass covered the ground underneath her cloak with several tendrils clawing forward. They roiled about, moving in an unnatural undulation that he found difficult to look at and difficult to turn away from at the same time.

He forced himself anyway, focusing his gaze on the far end of the village where the mine entrance was located.

They didn’t make it much further before a trio rushed toward them. A shorter man who reminded him of Baron Freede except this man had clearly had to tighten his belt over the past few months. The way his fine clothes hung loose made Arkk wince, wishing there were more he could do. The other two were here as guards. They were probably militia, gathered up from some of the local miners.

The newcomers stopped a respectful distance away, eyes on Vezta.

“Heard you had a gorgon problem,” Arkk said, deciding to speak first. He didn’t want to waste time while they hummed and hawed over Vezta. “I’m Arkk, the leader of Company Al-Mir. Here to take a look and see what we’re dealing with.”

“A free company? You’re answering our request for help?” The apparent leader of the group sounded like he could hardly believe his ears. He turned his head away from Vezta though couldn’t quite take his eyes off her for another few seconds. Eventually, after blinking several times, he looked at Arkk. “A few adventurers came by a month ago… they were the only ones.”

“I assume they weren’t very effective.”

“Didn’t come back.”

Arkk nodded, expecting that answer. “Well, I can’t promise anything.”

“I… understand. We didn’t think…” The man looked around, loose skin trailing just behind the rest of his face as he met the eyes of the villagers. “The poultry you have, is that—”

“For the gorgon. Not something you would want to eat. Trust me.”

“Poisoned?” he asked with a frown. A few of the crowd let out despairing moans at hearing that. Some even started wandering away. “We tried that in the early days. The damn snakes can smell it or something. They didn’t touch anything we left out for them.”

“Not exactly poison, but…” Arkk considered. “I guess we’ll see if it works.”

The man shrugged, then turned away from Arkk. “I am Geno. Baron of Silver City. The mine is just this way,” he said, motioning before walking. “The gorgon only come out at night. We can approach without harm during the day. Stepping even a single foot inside is… perilous.”

Arkk had already seen the results. There were five or six statues just inside. He had seen it during his scrying. “I notice you don’t have any walls,” Arkk said as he walked alongside the older man. “Is the silver not a valuable target for bandits and raiders?”

Geno smiled and raised an arm to the mountain. “The steep natural walls protect us here. burgs Meddale and Stirling Waters block the way through the valley, protecting us from that side. No problem we couldn’t deal with ever reached our town.” He paused and looked back. “Until the gorgon.”

“The burgs can’t help with the food situation?”

“Some of our people already fled to them, putting a strain on their resources. They still helped out… until a few weeks ago. The…” The Baron wrung his hands, shooting a look around. “Duke Woldair’s taxmen collected their due. There isn’t enough left for all of us. I don’t know how we’re going to get through the winter, even if you do get rid of the gorgon.”

Arkk’s hand clenched into tight fists around the handles of the wicker basket he carried. He could hear the creaking under his hands.

“I… I don’t want to say this,” he started, pausing and turning fully. “When the taxmen came here… they took our silver. We can’t offer what we originally posted on the bounty boards.” He held up his hands, fear crossing his face as his mind came up with all kinds of terrible scenarios. “But we can still pay. If the mines are safe, we can start working again. We’ll pay double. It’ll just be over time. If you could just—”

Arkk wished he could hold up a hand of his own to stop the man’s diatribe. Hands busy, all he could do was rudely interrupt. “Why don’t we see if we can clear out the mines before we worry about payment? No sense getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Oh.” Geno looked surprised for a moment. His shoulders slumped after. “Oh.”

Not sure what part of that the Baron was worried about, Arkk simply kept walking, moving past the older man. “Probably best if you stay back from here. The mine is just across the creek, isn’t it? We can find it ourselves.”

“I… Good luck.”

“Appreciated,” Arkk said, giving the man a small smile as he and Vezta started up the worn path to the mine. Turning to Vezta, he asked, “Thoughts?”

“The man must be desperate if he is ignoring me.”

“Doesn’t want to question his good fortune at having someone show up.”

“I think he is nervous about what you’ll ask for if you do manage to clear out the mines. The way he reacted makes me think he believes you will ask for the whole village. Maybe you should.”

“What would I do with a whole village? I’ve already got the fortress.”

“You wouldn’t be able to claim the territory at this time, not officially, but the people would still be yours. The [HEART]’s power increases with every minion added. My former master counted a hundred thousand as his minions and the magic he could wield would put the lightning spell that impressed you so to shame.”

“I still don’t know what I would do with the village. I’ve got enough on my plate already.”

“If that is your desire.”

“For now at least,” Arkk mumbled, thinking about it more. Maybe being the baron of a village would get him in the good graces of the Duke. At least enough to get him in the door to see Alya.

He shook his head.

“We’re here,” he said, slowing to a stop as the path leveled out. A short distance away, a gaping hole in the mountainside opened up, supported with thick wooden beams. He didn’t see any movement around the entrance, which was probably a good thing.

Setting down the basket of food, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick strip of cloth. Wrapping it around his eyes and pulling it tight, ensuring not even a little light got in, Arkk shifted his view. While his eyes were blind, he could still see himself and Vezta using the fortress’ power. The perspective wasn’t that great, offering a view of himself from somewhere overhead, but it was better than being turned to stone.

Vezta handed over the chickens she had been carrying. Accepting them was a bit clumsy. As was bending to pick up the basket once again. Taking a few steps, he staggered, feeling like he was going to tip straight over onto his side.

“You should have practiced more.”

“It’s fine,” Arkk said, steadying himself. “It’s as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.”

Vezta shrugged. Her tendrils reached up around her, ripping and tearing through her as they pulled her into Arkk’s shadow. A few glowing yellow eyes appeared in the darkness under his feet before they winked out one by one.

“Remember, eyes closed. If I start panicking, just start attacking everything around me.”

Vezta didn’t respond in her shadow form.

Moving carefully at first, Arkk crossed the rest of the way to the mouth of the mine. Through his Keeper vision, he spotted the statues standing around the entrance. Five of them, all looking inward yet frozen with fear on their faces. They had been there ever since the first time he had scried on the mines. They had likely been left in place as a warning to anyone else approaching.

Quite an effective warning.

The Baron had said that anyone stepping inside would be attacked. He had already guessed that would be the case. There was always one gorgon on watch at the entrance. Usually the smallest one, though they did rotate through all eight of the snake-like creatures.

Arkk stopped at the threshold.

“Hello,” he called out. “Anyone home?”

Not every beastman could speak or understand human languages. Sometimes, their mouths or throats just weren’t set up for it or they just never were taught in the first place. Those that couldn’t typically stayed on their own, remaining in their communities away from humans and demihumans. Gorgons typically stuck to themselves, but he wasn’t sure if they could speak. Their faces looked humanoid enough, yet snakelike at the same time. It was a bit confusing. Like a cross between a demihuman and a beastman.

He was hoping that Savren could somehow hear through them with his magic, listening to Arkk shouting.

“I’m here in peace with food aplenty,” Arkk said, lowering the basket. The chickens looped over his shoulder were tied together at the legs, leaving them dangling from a string. He shrugged one off and flung it inside. “I know there is a human in there,” he said. “I just want to have a chat with the human down in the lower levels.”

Movement in the shadows beyond the mouth of the mine made him tense, ready to signal Vezta at the first sign of hostility.

Although the creature had black scales, as it slithered forward into the light, it took on an iridescent rainbow barely visible against the dark coloration. Larger, horizontally oriented scales covered its belly and underside. They were a bit of a lighter color, though still dark enough to mesh well with the rest of its body.

It had a wide hood spread out behind its head and neck, making it look wider than it really was. A normal snake might not have much distinction between its neck and the rest of its body. Gorgon, however, were partially humanoid. They had shoulders and arms and four-fingered hands.

The human-snake face lost all illusion of humanity the moment it opened its mouth. It let out a long hissing noise as its dark tongue snapped out, tasting the air.

Arkk kept his feet planted where they were, trying not to shake as it drew itself up until it was a full three heads taller than him. The smallest of the gorgon would tower over an orc like that. He was glad they didn’t have one of the larger ones guarding the entrance. It was still far enough away that Vezta couldn’t attack it. Unless he had severely misunderstood how gorgon petrification worked, it couldn’t attack him either.

That was the only reason he hadn’t turned and run.

“Hello,” he tried again, shrugging off another pair of chickens. These, he just held out. “I come in peace with gifts of food.”

The treatise he had bought from the Darkwood alchemist, Morford, contained only the simplest of concoctions. One of which had been labeled as a Drought of Rest. Arkk had tested a little on himself. It wasn’t a sleeping potion but it did make him calmer and in a state where he could get an easier night’s sleep.

Arkk was hoping the gorgon would be a bit less interested in attacking him with that in their systems.

Assuming they didn’t smell it and view it as poison like the local baron suggested they might.

The gorgon hissed again.

Then it spoke a wispy, hissing speech.

“Leave, human, or join your brotherss and ssissterss in ssilence,” it said, waving toward the statues around the entrance.

“I would love to, believe me,” Arkk said, starting to gain a little confidence. He would much rather talk than fight. It talking was a great sign. Maybe something would go right for once. “I just need to talk to the human here first. If he doesn’t want to come up, I wrote him a note here in this gift basket,” Arkk said, slowly lowering himself to grab the bit of parchment he had written out earlier.

“Human? There iss no human here.”

Arkk blinked behind his blindfold and looked up. He couldn’t see the gorgon through his eyes but the surprised reaction still followed through. “Down on the lower levels. You bring him food once a day while he sits and reads his books. You, the green one, and the orange one visit him most.”

“Vissit?” The snake’s slit-pupil eyes didn’t blink the way a human’s might. The protective shield that winked over them still made it look confused in a very human-like way. “Ssavren demands tribute. He iss the only one I offer food to. There iss no human here.”

“Yes! Savren. He…” Arkk trailed off, frowning as the wheels in his mind turned. Savren was a human. He had seen it through scrying and he had confirmed it through the bounty on the Hope Killer. The wheels clicked into place once Arkk thought a moment longer about the type of magic he specialized in. “He isn’t mind-controlling you. He makes you think he is a gorgon as well.”

“You—”

“This is going to sound weird,” Arkk said, interrupting. He pulled the crystal ball out from his pouch and held it out toward the gorgon. The image in the ball changed as he did so, showing the private quarters Savren had made out of one of the chambers on the lower levels. “Could you look into this and tell me what you see? No tricks. I don’t even have a sword.”

The gorgon slithered closer. Some primal part of Arkk’s mind wanted to run off. He clamped it down and locked his legs in place.

“A human,” the gorgon said, dismissively.

“Does it look familiar at all?”

“You all look the ssame.”

Arkk blinked behind his blindfold again and slowly shook his head. “I meant the room. His surroundings.”

The gorgon stretched its head forward again, peering down into the crystal ball for longer than before. Arkk couldn’t read a single expression on its face but he did note the expression change a few times.

“What iss thiss?”

Arkk was pretty sure it sounded upset. Maybe even angry.

He took a slow step back that the gorgon barely seemed to notice.

The gorgon turned away from him, slithering deeper into the mine without another word.

“Wait, where are you going?” Arkk said, stepping forward once again. He even crossed the threshold of the mine but the gorgon did not turn back as it raced inside. “Wait!”

Vezta extracted herself from his shadow, slowly opening only the eyes on her face as she looked at him. “Master,” she said, “was it your intention to get our spellcaster killed?”

Arkk didn’t entertain her with a response. He grit his teeth, staring after the gorgon as his mind raced to find a way to fix the situation or at least turn it to his advantage.

Gnawing on his lip, he picked up his gifts and stepped forward, moving deeper into the mine.

 

 

“Master Arkk. Might I ask why you’re out here?”

Arkk glanced back. He wasn’t quite sure how Vezta found him. To the best of his knowledge, the employee link was one-way. He could look in on his employees at any time but the reverse was not true. Then again, the link he had with Vezta was slightly different than what he had with everyone else. Well, everyone except his two prisoners.

And wasn’t that a topic.

He didn’t want the two elves working for him. They didn’t want to work either. Thus, an employee bond couldn’t form. Instead, upon being ‘captured’ in his and Ilya’s grips, they had become prisoners. A similar status to an employee in that he could see them but he couldn’t move them on their own, only in the grip of one of his employees. Or himself. They didn’t contribute to the magical power of the [HEART] the way his employees did and they couldn’t open doors on their own. They were…

Prisoners.

Even though Arkk didn’t really want that either.

Shoving the thought aside—he had enough on his plate at the moment to worry about investigating the strange magic of the [HEART]—he looked back to the newly constructed tunnel.

“Working on a project,” Arkk said.

“There are several wings of Fortress Al-Mir that are going unused. Making an entirely new wing and so far from the rest of the fortress is entirely unnecessary.”

“Ah, but it can only be far away. It would defeat the purpose if I started this little construction project closer to the Heart.”

All twelve of the lesser servants were scurrying about, moving their pulsating and vile bodies against the dirt walls, eating them away to extend tunnels and carve out rooms. Some of them followed along behind the others, claiming territory by stamping down those compass-rose tiles with the glowstones in the center. Arkk followed after those ones, pulling gold from the treasury to place down rooms in every corridor and newly constructed room.

The appearance of the tiles didn’t change too much. The stone cracked. Bits and pieces disappeared entirely. Spider webs formed in corners and an unpleasant musk filled the air. He had gotten used to it.

Vezta wrinkled her nose, running her hand along the wall. Bits of the wall crumbled away under her touch. Dust clung to her fingertips.

“You call this construction? The schematic you are using is faulty. Where did you discover it?”

“Asked Zullie. She said she doubted that she would be able to make a more advanced room on her own but the work she did with you on the temple gave her enough of an idea of how to do this. And this is exactly what I intended,” Arkk added, kicking a small bit of rubble off to the side of the corridor.

“You intend to deface Fortress Al-Mir with such shoddy work? This looks like…” Vezta trailed off, eyes narrowing as her golden suns turned on Arkk. “This looks worse than the dilapidated fortress at Darkwood.”

“Exactly!” Arkk spread his arms wide, spending gold to ruin this new section of the fortress. “Inquisitor Vrox wants to find ruins? He’ll find ruins.”

“A decoy?” Vezta said, frowning at one of the torch-holders dropping its torch as the new schematic overwrote the pristine wall.

“If he can’t find anything, he’ll expand his search. Don’t want him to expand it to the point where he discovers the trap doors. So, we give him a little something. Hopefully what he expects to see. I did some scrying on the Darkwood fortress. Not much left. Looks more like dirt tunnels than how this fortress did when I first arrived, but I did copy the layout here.”

“They likely killed the [HEART]’s Keeper and sent the [HEART] into dormancy,” Vezta said, her tone pained. “Fortress Al-Mir was merely lacking a master when you found it.”

“Well, we don’t want that to happen here, do we?”

“No.”

“Hence the ruins,” Arkk said.

Vezta knelt, plucking a cracked glowstone from the floor. That might have normally destroyed the magic of the room but, since the room was a cracked and withered version of the regular tile, the actual tile was underneath, shrouded in magic. Or so Arkk guessed from everything he knew.

“You went to Zullie for help with this schematic?”

Arkk hesitated at her question. She spoke with the same pristine calm that she normally used. Something about the way she stared at the glowstone without any of her eyes flicking up to him made him think there was more to the question than the surface words would indicate.

She… wasn’t jealous, was she?

“The idea came to me after I went to bed last night. Following yesterday’s meeting, I couldn’t sleep much. Too busy thinking.” He shook his head, moving on. “I woke up early and thought to find you. When I did, you were in the temple room. I’m not sure if you were meditating or praying. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I exist to serve Fortress Al-Mir and its master.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to do everything. You can take a break too. Zullie was awake—I’m not sure living underground is good for her; it seems like she has no sense of a sleep schedule—and I asked her. As I said, making a more advanced room would have likely been beyond her capabilities.” Arkk motioned to one broken-down wall. “This wasn’t.”

Vezta stayed staring at the glowstone for a long moment before it fell from her fingers. Clasping her hands together in front of her navel, she stood and nodded. “I understand your reasoning. Please don’t fear disturbing me in the future.”

Arkk pressed his lips together. “If it makes you feel better, I will need your help with some other rooms. First, let me tell you the rest of my plan.

“I’ll dig a few access points to the surface and scatter around some debris. Nothing too obvious, but enough to draw attention. Might have the orcs stomp around to make it look like the entrances are in use too.”

“We draw them in and bombard them with traps? Collapse the entrances around them and trap them inside? Collapse the entire wing on top of their heads?”

Arkk stared for a long moment, surprised at the hostility in her voice. “I… was thinking more along the lines of letting them destroy it.”

“Master…”

“This wing, I mean. Not the whole fortress. This is what I need your help with. I want to make a fake Heart. We put up a token resistance but eventually let them in. They destroy the fake heart. We decommission the whole wing then, collapsing parts of it until they start running away. The inquisitors leave, thinking they’ve finished their objective. The main Fortress Al-Mir is unaffected and we carry on as usual… except you and I need to take care not to be seen around the area. Maybe we go on a road trip to the other side of the duchy to make them think we’re starting a new base of operations out there.”

Vezta drew in a deep breath, looking around with a frown. “That might work. They might come back later once they realize the extent of your duplicity.”

“Hopefully we have the portal open and the Pantheon’s help by then. Or whatever is on the other side.” Vezta had tried to explain a few times but… it felt like one of those things that had to be seen to really comprehend.

“We’re just buying time then. I understand. You would need to make at least some parts of this place look lived-in. The inquisitors are aware that you have several orcs working for you.”

“Good point,” Arkk said, looking through his plan for the new wing in his mind’s eye. “We’ll have a few proper rooms closer to one of the entrances. A dormitory, kitchens… Maybe a library if it will generate books on its own the way Zullie’s bedroom did. Otherwise, I don’t want to lose our books.”

“We’ll have to adjust them to look more worn down to match the aesthetics you have in the rest of this place.”

“Adjusting existing schematics shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

Vezta shook her head. “I shall get started on the task immediately.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Vezta dipped her head, bowing. She started to turn away, only to pause and look back. “As servant, advisory isn’t my forte—”

“Just say it, Vezta.”

“The fortress requires contiguous territory. Some small tunnel must connect this place to the real [HEART] if you wish for your ploy to succeed. That introduces a vulnerability to the real [HEART].”

Arkk frowned. He had been planning on collapsing the main tunnel he had used to build this wing far to the north of the actual fortress. The fact that it would all fall apart if he did so had slipped his mind. “Any suggestions?”

“My former master had a method of hiding passages. Doors that were indistinguishable from walls. I do not know how to create such defenses.”

Arkk didn’t think that was very useful to point out if it couldn’t be done. He didn’t voice his thoughts, however. “What about smaller tunnels? When the lesser servants dug out to find the Darkwood fortress, their tunnels were much smaller,” he said, holding his fingertips together in a circular manner. “Too small for people, but large enough to count for contiguous territory.”

“As long as they are large enough for the servants to claim the area, that might work.”

“We could put several of the tunnels around in every room. Have a few loop around on themselves, others lead to nowhere. Only one would be a real tunnel. Even if they found a way to investigate the holes in the walls, they surely wouldn’t investigate them all. All could be filled with grates to deter any exploration if they do find a way.”

“Still a vulnerability. I suppose that cannot be eliminated with this plan. Very well. I shall consider other complications and deliver my thoughts on the matter when I deliver the altered schematics.”

“Sounds good. I’m going to keep working here. Do you want a quick transport back?”

“To the library, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

It wasn’t any trouble at all. With a thought, Vezta disappeared.

Arkk peered into the crystal ball on his table, frowning at what he saw within. The mines of Silver City were maze-like and expansive, containing even more ground than Fortress Al-Mir. The network of tunnels followed the veins of ore—silver, which was where the settlement got its name, but also lead and copper. Tools, carts, shoes, and hats had all been left behind. Most looked untouched but the gorgon in the caverns had taken an interest in some of it.

Watching the gorgon was a strange experience. The Smilesville garrison had a small treatise on various beastmen and demihuman races. Their writings on the subject of gorgon left much to be desired, unfortunately. It seemed as if gorgon were rare enough that there wasn’t much information about them. Or perhaps few people made it back from an encounter alive. What was known was little more than what Hawkwood had mentioned back in Cliff. The serpentine beastmen had coils strong enough to crush even hardened steel, they had glands in their upper mouth that allowed them to project a kind of venomous acid from their fangs, and their gaze could turn someone to stone.

Their most infamous ability was on full display inside the mine. Not all the miners had made it out when they moved in. Detailed statues of fearful humans stood around the tunnels, silently watching forevermore. Arkk had been somewhat nervous about scrying on them, not sure if looking at their visages would turn him to stone even through the crystal ball.

That particular bit of magic required direct eye contact. Thankfully.

They also looked at the so-called Hope Killer without ill effect, implying that it took an active choice to turn someone to stone rather than passively turning everything they saw to stone.

Arkk wasn’t sure how much Savren was controlling them. When he wasn’t in their vicinity, they went about their day as normal. Mostly spending the time lounging about or eating—Arkk had discovered that they could undo their stone transformation, returning petrified persons and animals to their fleshy forms for consumption, which made their infamous ability far more practical as a hunting tool than Arkk had initially thought. From his morbid observations, he decided they liked animals—mostly rats, though he wouldn’t be surprised if they would turn to the frozen humans if they got too hungry—and ate nothing in the way of grain, fungus, or fruit.

Which made Savren’s consumption of the latter items curious. The mind magic he used must have made them ignore it.

Some of them had to go hunting for Savren. They brought back vermin for the most part. Sometimes one or two would venture out of the mines for fruit or mushrooms foraged from the nearby forest. From the way they moved within the mines and the way they moved outside, Arkk doubted they enjoyed those tasks much. It was almost like they were frightened of the open air.

Savren himself spent most of his days deep within the mines. He avoided the gorgon for the most part, choosing to isolate himself with a shelf full of books. Arkk tried to peer over his shoulder and glean what the man was reading but he flipped through the pages so fast that Arkk barely had time to read a few sentences. He couldn’t tell if the man was actually reading or just skimming through in search of something. The only clear thing was that the books delved into mind-affecting magics.

That was the biggest problem point. Even more so than the gorgon. So far, his only plan for dealing with that possibility was bringing along Vezta and hoping that her killing the man would remove any spells.

He might not have much of a choice. According to Zullie, people capable of fulfilling the corner spots of their ritual didn’t grow on trees. The ones that did exist would almost certainly have been swept up by the academies and would be both harder to access and less willing to help. His only real choices were criminals like Savren or unknowns like Hale. While the latter was more appealing, he didn’t know how to go about finding such people beyond testing every single person he came across.

Savren, though less appealing from a purely moral standpoint, was at least a known quantity already.

Known quantities could be planned around to an extent.

He just wished he had a better plan.

“Vezta, are you ready?”

“Master,” Vezta said, standing from the table, “is it wise to leave the fortress at this time?”

“We have eight days before the inquisitor commences his search. The new wing is almost finished. There isn’t much we can do here besides sit around and twiddle our thumbs. If this works, we get someone else who might help defend should the inquisitor find the real fortress.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“We escape and we’re back where we started except we know not to waste our time on Savren.”

“And leaving a trail of magic circles for them to follow?”

Arkk waved his arms around the dilapidated fortress. “That’s the beauty of doing this here. We want them to discover this place. If they don’t stumble across them, great. If they do, great! No matter what, we win.” Arkk reached down to the table and adjusted the basket. It contained bread, fruit, and fresh meat. A peace offering. Or bribe. He had some raw poultry dangling from ropes tied to their ankles in the hopes that throwing them at the gorgon would make them less likely to try to eat him.

The raw poultry had a little surprise with it as well. He wasn’t sure that it would work but he was willing to try just about anything at this point.

Vezta walked over to a clear section of the floor and, after a short scrying session, used her tendrils to scrawl out a teleportation circle. “Very well,” she said. “I shall protect you as best I am able.”

“That is all I ask. Let’s go.”

 

 

“Does anyone have any ideas on how to avoid the effects of mind magic?”

Arkk looked around the meeting table. Vezta didn’t move in the slightest in response to his question. She simply sat with her hands clasped on the table, watching him with her unblinking eyes. Zullie, sitting across from Arkk, hummed but didn’t say anything. She glanced upward, looking to the ceiling as if she might be able to divine the answer to his question from the maze-like pattern overhead.

Rekk’ar leaned back in his chair, one elbow on the armrest while his other arm rested on the table. Arkk didn’t expect him to have any real answers, yet he was the first to speak up.

“Kill the caster.”

“True,” Zullie said. “Can’t be mind-controlled if the controller is dead.”

Arkk stared between them, lips pressed together. “I will mark that down under contingencies,” he said with a sigh. “Any other thoughts?”

“The [HEART] normally protects its master from many forms of internal magics. A fireball slamming into your face will still hurt but I believe there should be some resistance to mind-controlling magics.”

“Normally?” Arkk asked, glancing at Vezta.

“I am unsure if that feature is functioning with the current state of things.”

“That doesn’t help now. I wanted to use this guy in that ritual.” Arkk drummed his fingers on the desk. “Zullie, do you know mind magics? Maybe we can test to see if I’ll be able to resist.”

Zullie shook her head with an apologetic smile. “Mind magic is, of course, anathema.”

“So is evocation.”

“We’re taught to recognize signs of summoning as part of our training in the academies, giving me an inlet into how such magic functions. Identifying signs of mind magic usage falls under the dominion of those who use holy magics. I would suggest you ask your abbess or the inquisitors but I doubt that is an option, is it?”

Arkk shook his head. It certainly wasn’t an option. “If I can get a meeting with him, Vezta will come with me, hidden in my shadow. Should he manage to take control of me, you’ll have to kill him and we’ll look elsewhere for our ritual participant.”

“Speaking of,” Zullie said. “I’ve been working with Hale over the past three days. I’m not positive that she can take a corner just yet but she is a whole lot closer than… anyone else,” she said with a glance at Rekk’ar.

The orc just scoffed, unbothered by the insult.

“If she can, that would be the best option.” Arkk paused, taking a moment to peek in on his most recent employees. Both were in the newly constructed workshop. It was a full-fledged lumber mill and carpentry shop complete with tools and a large saw blade for cutting the plentiful logs. John had been quite impressed upon seeing it. “The corners are going to be harder to fill than the sides,” Arkk said, looking back to Zullie “Keep working with her.”

“Sure thing. Any idea who is going to be positioned at the last corner? Assuming you can get this gorgon guy—”

“Gorgons?” Rekk’ar growled. “I thought we were done entertaining that foolish idea.”

“I’m not sending the orcs after them,” Arkk said, shooting Zullie a glare. “The mine I told you about the other week ago is where this mind-wizard is hiding out. I think he is controlling the gorgon to use as guards. I’m not quite sure what the plan is yet. I don’t want to meet with him while the gorgon are around.”

“I would say that you just said the smartest thing I’ve heard you say but you want to meet with a man who has gorgon under his thrall.”

“He also put an entire village into some kind of stasis-like sleep,” Arkk admitted. Rekk’ar did not look impressed. “From the scrying I’ve done on the mine, he mostly stays down on the lower levels while the gorgon lurk around the entrance. They venture out to bring him food—mostly rats and fungus—but otherwise stay well within the mine unless intruders venture too close. I’m… honestly hoping I can appeal to him through his stomach. I’ll toss in a nice roasted chicken from Larry along with a message requesting we meet peacefully.”

“Should use your instant movement magic to appear in his private quarters and drag him out,” Rekk’ar grumbled.

Arkk nodded. “I thought about that. Don’t want to startle him. Considering I need his help, antagonizing him on our first meeting sounds like another downside.”

“In my former master’s day, spellcasters would typically ward against such teleportation magics. Teleporting in despite that generally ends poorly for the one attempting it. There is no obvious way to identify a warded area before attempting the teleportation unless you locate the anchor stone, which can be fairly easily hidden.”

“That’s another reason,” Arkk said. Vezta had explained that before to him when he had asked about getting into the Duke’s manor that way. Her words now were for the benefit of others at the table. “Given teleportation magic is High Anathema,” he said with a nod toward Zullie, “I’m not sure how many people will be—”

Arkk froze as he felt a sharp tug on the employee link between him and Ilya. He let out a small sigh as he looked in at her location. She wasn’t in trouble. Rather, she was standing around outside a garrison. It took him a moment to recognize the spot.

“Ilya’s in Smilesville,” he said, a genuine smile forming on his face. Standing, he looked over the others. “Meeting adjourned. Keep an eye on the inquisitors,” Arkk said to Vezta. “And everyone, try to think of a good plan for avoiding gorgon or mind magic.”

Arkk didn’t wait for any responses. He disappeared from the meeting room and reappeared at the far end of the Smilesville tunnel. The inquisitors, he knew, had left Langleey and headed back toward Cliff. He doubted they would be gone for long but for the moment, he should be safe to walk around Smilesville without worrying about them popping up.

The tunnel’s exit let Arkk out a short distance away from the burg’s walls. Most of the burg’s farmlands were down by the river on the floodplain. There was a small forest-covered hill just behind the village. That forest hid the trap exit. People did come up into the forest for foraging, hunting, and lumber, but nobody had found the door so far. It helped that it was hidden underneath a layer of dirt and brush that he had to lift to get out.

From the exit, it took a little over ten minutes to reach the burg’s gate. Nobody stopped him. He had been a little worried that the inquisitors would have put a bounty on his head. So far, there was no sign of that. After another few minutes of walking through the town, Arkk reached Ilya.

She was a beautiful mess. With how long she had been out on the road, Arkk wasn’t surprised to see her looking worn down, tired, and covered in a smear of grime. Her silvery hair wasn’t as smooth and straight as usual. Tied up into a tight ponytail to keep it out of the way, it was still frayed and frazzled. Her clothing looked worn and in need of replacement.

“—put a bounty out on any slavers!”

Still, watching her argue with the same archivist that Arkk had spoken with the last time he had been here, Arkk’s heart swelled. He rushed right up to her and wrapped her in a tight hug.

She jolted, shocked and ready to fight him off until she realized who he was. “Arkk! How did you… Where—”

“Welcome back, Ilya. You stink.”

“Arkk,” Ilya growled. “Get off me.”

“I haven’t seen you in over a month and that is how you treat me?” Arkk said, affecting his tone with false hurt as he pulled away. “I take it you didn’t succeed in finding a tailor?”

“They were all dead,” Ilya said, voice a whisper. “Or kidnapped. We found two on the way back but they didn’t know where they had been taken or what happened to any others. I’ve been trying to put bounties on slavers at every burg we’ve passed. Only one or two even listen to me,” she said with a glare at the archivist. “Only one would take a down payment of gold and Olatt’an thinks he took it for himself.”

Arkk had no idea how bounties got instantiated. He glanced at the archivist, who was pointedly ignoring them despite their presence right in front of her desk. “Don’t worry about the gold,” he said.

“I’m not. I’m worried about the bastards who attacked the elves.”

“I’ll speak with the archivist,” Arkk said, hoping their few interactions would be enough of a rapport to get an honest answer about how to place bounties. Otherwise, he might have to ask Hawkwood about it the next time he was in Cliff. “For now, however, why don’t we get you and the others back to the fortress? We’ll—”

“That’s another thing,” Ilya said, shoving a scrap of parchment against his chest. “What is the meaning of this?”

Raising an eyebrow, Arkk looked down. The first thing he noticed was the large symbol dominating the top half of the parchment. A familiar symbol. It was a depiction of an eye with a vertical bar instead of a pupil, split several times by thin horizontal lines. The inquisitors wore the same symbol as a metal pin on their uniforms.

Feeling his stomach dropping, he quickly scanned over the rest of the parchment. “A recruitment notice? To scour the Cursed Forest for old ruins?” He looked over to the archivist. “How long has this been posted? When is this search taking place?”

The woman adjusted her glasses. Still ignoring Ilya—making Arkk wonder if half her troubles in placing a bounty came from her sharp ears—the archivist looked at the parchment in Arkk’s hands. “Swiftwings delivered notices to all burgs in the area over the last few days. We just received the notice last night. The search parties will gather in Stone Hearth Burg in ten days’ time where High Inquisitor Darius Vrox will organize them and send them into the Cursed Forest. Unfortunately, we do not have many more details than that. If you are interested in signing up—”

“I might be,” Arkk lied. “I need to speak with my men first.”

“Very good, sir,” the archivist said, immediately looking back to her desk.

“And I think I need to speak with them immediately,” Arkk said, placing a hand on Ilya’s elbow as he led her away from the garrison. “Let’s get you and the others back. The two elves with you are coming as well?”

“I didn’t know what else to do with them,” she said with a sigh. “Sorry if that—”

“It’s fine. The fortress is more than large enough for two hundred more, let alone two more.” Although they were now moving down the street toward the stayover, far from others, Arkk dropped his voice to the barest whisper possible. “They aren’t employees so I can’t just take them straight there, unfortunately. Are they opposed to joining up?”

“I didn’t talk with them about that. They barely speak at all. I was just… trying to keep a level head as we made our way back. I kept wanting to run off into the wilderness and track down these slavers myself. Olatt’an kept me moving in the right direction.”

“I’ll see about these bounties. Maybe tracking them down ourselves won’t be impossible. We’ve got a lot going on right now, however. A lot has happened while you’ve been out. Not much of it good.”

“Great. Just what I wanted to hear upon returning.”

“Would you like to hear about a hot bath? I’m having the lesser servants stoke the flames as we speak.”

Letting out a faint sigh, Ilya nodded. “That, I could stand to hear some more about.”

“Great. Try not to worry too much about things for at least a little while. We’ll talk about what you did and what I did after you get some good food and some rest. Nothing that has happened is immediately urgent.” Arkk pressed his lips together, looking back down at the parchment in his hands. “Well, nothing except this maybe.”

“Piss off some people while I was gone?”

“To be fair, I think they were pissed off before they got here. I didn’t do anything to make the situation better, though.”

Ilya paused in the middle of the road, making Arkk stop as well. The garrison sat right on the edge of the city, close to the wall and one of the city gates. “We’re not actually at the stayover,” she said, nodding her head toward the gate. “Olatt’an claims he wouldn’t be welcome in any burg in the Kingdom and a few of the others are in similar situations. I especially didn’t want them around here after what we saw when passing through with Dakka.”

Arkk’s jaw tightened. “They did take those bodies down. Probably a good idea anyway.” Using his employee vision, he did a quick check on Olatt’an and the other orcs Ilya had taken with her. Like her, they all looked worn and ready for a nap. If the inquisitors were sending people into the Cursed Forest in search of him, he needed them well-rested and ready to fight if the situation called for it.

He would have transported them all straight into Fortress Al-Mir from here were it not for the two smaller elves that were sitting in the middle of the group. A young boy and a young girl. Siblings, maybe? They both had hair the color of gold and the same upward tilt to their sharp ears.

“What is the deal with the elves?”

“As I said, the village was destroyed. Many died. Many more were taken as slaves. Those two, we found on our way back in the hands of some old human,” Ilya said, her fists clenching tight. She paused, not speaking for a long few moments until they passed through the gate and left the burg behind. Only then did she resume in a soft whisper. “The orcs were more than happy to fight his guards and smash in his head. They looted his manor. I only took the kids.”

“Did… anyone see you?”

“No one still alive,” Ilya said with a frown. “Don’t know exactly what happened to the kids. They don’t speak much. Any time I or one of the orcs raise our voices, they flinch. I’m hoping a safe environment will help, but we… sort of left that village behind in a hurry. Doubt our hasty retreat helped much considering they were slung over orcs’ shoulders most of the way. It must have felt like they were being kidnapped all over again.”

Arkk… didn’t quite know what to say to that. “Hale is living at the fortress for now,” he said. “Learning magic from Zullie. Maybe having someone around who is their age—or at least height—will help. John is there as well. You know how he dotes on Hale.”

“That is a relief. I have no idea what to do. They want to go learn how to hunt, I can do that. Parental things?” Ilya shook her head and then pointed off the road.

Following her lead, they quickly came across the orc camp. Although it wasn’t a camp. Rather a small gathering. They hadn’t set up their tent or even started a fire. Most of the orcs were gathered around, sitting on the ground or a fallen log while a few others kept watch. At Arkk’s approach, one of the guards called back for Olatt’an.

The old orc stood and approached slowly. He looked a bit resigned to having a chat right out here in the middle of the woods. Before he could start, Arkk waved him off.

“You all want to get back. We’ll have a debriefing later. Unless there are any objections, I’ll send you all back now. Make sure you have your belongings.”

Arkk waited a moment. Although he hadn’t specified, all the orcs ready to go lined up in front of him with a pair holding onto the horses’ harnesses. The horses and carts, considered property of his, could be transported as well although they were reaching the upper limit of what he was able to move. As the rest gathered their things, they slowly formed into a messy gathering as well. Then, once everyone was standing in front of him, he pulled them back to the Fortress. Everyone except Ilya and the two young elves stayed behind.

The two elves didn’t look up or react to the sudden disappearance of the orcs. They just stood stock-still, not even looking up to meet Arkk’s eyes.

Arkk shot a glance at Ilya but she had no eyes for him. She stepped forward, pausing when the smaller elves flinched. “This man is going to give you a coin,” she said. “It is yours to keep. It will let him take you to a safe place. Do you understand me?”

Both gave identical nods of their heads, still without glancing up. Neither said a word, though he did note that the young boy started breathing harder as Arkk stepped closer. Trying to look as unthreatening as possible, Arkk pulled out a pair of gold coins. Kneeling, he got a look at their faces for the first time.

While partially healed, there was heavy evidence of bruising. The girl’s eye looked like it might have swollen up recently, though now it had at least partially returned to normal. One of the boy’s ears had been clipped, chopping off a sizable portion.

Not trusting himself to open his mouth, he just held out the gold coins.

“Take them,” Ilya said, noting their hesitation.

That stopped their hesitation. Arkk didn’t miss the stricken expression crossing the girl’s face as she took the coin like it was a venomous snake. The boy held it like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw it away or hand it right back.

Arkk couldn’t quite understand their expressions. He did start frowning as he noted something.

“It didn’t work.”

Both winced, squeezing their eyes shut in preparation for a beating.

“What do you mean?” Ilya hissed, tearing her eyes off the elves.

“I mean it didn’t work,” Arkk said, keeping his voice as soft as possible. “There isn’t a connection.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he said, thinking back to all the other times he had hired employees.

Ilya had been his first, becoming an employee upon them making a transactional agreement. The orcs, he had hired with gold. At least some of them had been under duress at the time with him threatening them into working for him. So duress couldn’t be it. He had been able to hire Hale without incident, so age didn’t play a factor.

Then there were all the times he had handed gold over to people without hiring them. Mostly merchants. Whatever magic linked him to his employees could tell the difference between purchasing goods or services and a desire to hire. At least to an extent, given Ilya’s hiring.

Was it his fault? Did he not want to hire them? He wanted them back at Fortress Al-Mir. Wasn’t that enough? Or was it something else? Did the magic, apparently smart enough to not hire merchants, think that these kids weren’t worthy of working for him? Was it something about them? A resistance to wanting to work for him? He doubted that it was the falsehood of what Ilya said given that he had hired Ilya basically on accident, maybe her words played some role anyway?

“I might need to ask Vezta.”

“We can’t just leave them here while you go figure things out,” Ilya hissed. “Can we… I don’t know, carry them? You move our clothes and gear. Why not people?”

“We can try. Otherwise, the entrance to the tunnel isn’t far from here. The tunnel isn’t designed for people to physically travel through—” Not after Zullie’s excursion to Langleey, anyway. “—but it is a direct route straight to the fortress.”

“Let’s try the instant travel first. Not looking forward to walking in a dark tunnel. My boots have practically worn away as it is.” Stepping back toward the smaller elves, she held out her arms for the young boy. “Come here. I’m going to pick you up and hopefully we’ll disappear.”

Although he winced at Ilya’s arms, the young elf didn’t disobey. He stoically marched over and let Ilya pick him up without a fight. Ilya lifted him off the ground but didn’t fully stand. Probably not wanting to drop the elf if one disappeared but not the other.

With Ilya’s arms around the young elf, however, Arkk noted something interesting. A link formed between him and the boy. It wasn’t an employee bond. Not like he had with all his other employees. Some elements were similar but, if Arkk had to put a word to it, it would be prisoner.

Although he hoped it wasn’t permanent, it did afford him the ability to pick up and drop both Ilya and the elf in her arms back at the fortress.

The prisoner bond solidified somewhat upon their arrival, making him worry a bit more.

He needed to speak with Vezta.

But first, he looked down at the remaining elf. Instead of staring at the ground, she stared after her vanished brother with wide eyes and a quivering lip.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Arkk said, kneeling and holding out his arms as Ilya had. “Come here and you’ll be back with him.”

The young girl had teal eyes, Arkk noted as the elf threw an angry glare his way. That flash of defiance disappeared almost as quickly as it had come as the elf dropped her head and stepped into Arkk’s arms.

Both vanished.

 

 

Arkk watched via crystal ball as the inquisitors made their way through Langleey Village. Like their first visit, they stopped at the Baron’s manor and had a chat with Gert. It wasn’t a long conversation. The inquisitors didn’t even proceed beyond the entryway. After their conversation finished, the inquisitors left and headed to the church. Abbess Keena opened the door for them but, as they moved inside, Arkk noted something odd.

“I can’t position the crystal ball’s viewpoint inside the church?”

“The Abbey of the Light has a method of blocking scrying,” Zullie said in an absent tone as she flipped through the pages Vezta had made up for her.

“Not surprising,” Vezta said. “The symbols on the building indicate that it has been consecrated to at least one of the three. It is effectively a temple to them.”

Arkk tapped his foot on the ground repetitively, impatiently waiting for the three inquisitors to step outside. It was late. Just after sunset. If they were planning on spending the night, he would have to hand the scrying off to Vezta. The only reason he doubted they were staying right now was the presence of their carriage driver. The man with the wide hat was moving about the carriage, shoving oats into the mouths of the two horses. As soon as he finished, he retook his seat, reclining back against the wall of the carriage with his hat over his face.

If they were staying the night, surely they would have invited him inside too.

Sure enough, High Inquisitor Darius Vrox soon followed Abbess Keena out of the church, the latter carrying a lit lantern to guide her way in the dimming light. The chronicler and the purifier stayed inside, unfortunately.

Abbess Keena brought the inquisitor to the empty storehouse that Zullie had been using earlier in the afternoon. Keena stayed near the door while Vrox moved about, inspecting the remnants of the ritual circles left behind.

“I wish I could hear what they are saying,” Arkk grumbled. Neither Vezta nor Zullie responded with a solution, so he just sighed. “You weren’t doing anything illegal in there, were you?”

“It was a standard aptitude test. Shouldn’t cause any real concern, although he might wonder why we were testing the villagers.”

“Is that illegal?”

“Not as far as I know. Of course, officially, I would be required to report any promising subjects to the church. The fact that you and that little girl were never reported is more damning for that abbess than for us, I should think.”

Arkk slowly nodded twice, then tensed. “Is Hale in danger?”

“The inquisitors are ruthless, or so I’ve heard, but they aren’t unreasonable. They aren’t going to murder her if that is what you’re worried about.” Zullie casually flipped a page in her book. “Might take her away and shove her in one of the academies. Bit of a shame for us, but I’m sure we can find other spellcasters. It’ll just take longer.”

“She won’t have a choice?”

“I wasn’t given one,” Zullie said.

Arkk tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair several times, watching as the inquisitor knelt in front of one of the circles. As Vrox stood up, so did Arkk.

“I’m going to get her.”

“Master—”

“No. It’ll be fine,” Arkk said. “I slip in, ask Hale if she would rather go with the inquisitors or come here, and then teleport back. Ideally, nobody knows that I was even there. At least in the next few minutes.” A quarter of the village had seen him earlier while looking for Zullie.

“I wasn’t going to object,” Vezta said, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “I was going to mention that the young girl has been here before. Allowing her the choice of falling into the inquisitor’s hands is less than ideal.”

“That’s…” Forcing her didn’t sit right with Arkk. Still, Vezta had a point. “I’m sure she wouldn’t choose some random people over someone she knows.”

“Very well. I shall maintain my vigil over the intruders. If you feel me reach for your attention, leave at once unless you wish to meet with them.”

Vrox had been chatty enough the first two times Arkk encountered the inquisitor. This time felt different, however. The way Vrox was moving about the village combined with how they had been lurking around Smilesville, searching through the streets for him… Not to mention the way the purifier had chased him and Zullie around just before they left Cliff.

Arkk doubted a meeting now would be quite so friendly.

Teleporting to the far end of the Langleey tunnel, Arkk climbed up the ladder and pushed the trapdoor out of the way. It wasn’t particularly well hidden but it was out of sight of the village. Unless Zullie had screwed up earlier, nobody from the village should be aware of it. As Arkk hurried across the bridge to the village proper beyond the river, he pulled a spare crystal ball to him. Vezta keeping watch was good for when he was distracted but he needed to be sure nobody would see him making his way to the home next to the carpentry shop.

The purifier and chronicler were presumably still inside the church. He couldn’t see them. The coachman was still napping under his hat. Vrox and Keena had emerged from the storehouse but weren’t walking anywhere. Instead, they were chatting with Higgens just outside the storehouse doors. Arkk wasn’t sure why the village tailor was there at this time of night. The inquisitor was probably asking about Zullie’s test earlier.

That meant he would quickly learn that Hale had been the one with the best results.

Still, they were paused for the moment. That gave him time to run along the riverbank and to the building next to the old waterwheel. Hale was inside, eating a stew with John. Arkk didn’t bother to knock, slipping inside through the narrowest gap in the door he could manage, not wanting to flood the outside with light from the hearth.

“Arkk!” John said, an easy smile on his wrinkled face despite the sudden intrusion. “Hale was just telling me that you might be taking her away from me.” His serious tone managed to inject a note of levity at the same time, making it clear that his disappointment was just a front.

He cared for Hale a great deal. The life of a backwater village’s carpenter wouldn’t lead anywhere. A spellcaster, on the other hand? Arkk well knew that a proper spellcaster could make a great deal of coin, travel the world, and generally live well. John had to know that as well.

“Unfortunately,” Arkk started slowly. “She might be leaving sooner than expected.”

The easygoing look on John’s face faded as he narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Arkk took a breath and looked down at Hale, who had been doing her best to not look excited at Arkk’s arrival but was now struggling not to scrunch up her face in confusion. Holding out the crystal ball, Arkk focused on Vrox.

“This man is an inquisitor with the church. He is almost certainly going to be coming here later this evening. Maybe even in the next few minutes. He will probably want to take you away and put you in an academy. The kind of place where Zullie learned magic.”

“A real magic school? Will they teach me to read and write?”

“I… I don’t actually know,” Arkk said, wishing he had brought Zullie along to answer a few questions. “Probably? But that isn’t why I’m here now. At least not directly. If this man takes you away, you probably won’t be allowed to leave the academy for a long time. You probably won’t be coming back to Langleey anytime soon.” Arkk gave a long look at John before glancing back to Hale.

“I assume you came with an alternate option?” John asked.

“Hale comes with me first. Zullie and I can teach you magic and how to read. You’ll still be able to visit the village, though you probably won’t want to come back until after the inquisitors leave.”

“To your… castle, was it?” John said, a frown on his face. “Out in the cursed forest?”

Arkk grimaced. Of course Hale would have told him all about it. Arkk had mentioned the ruins in the cursed forest to Abbess Keena, so the inquisitors probably knew that much at least. “Yes, though I would appreciate it if you didn’t spread that around too much. I don’t think the inquisitors like me much. If you come with me—”

“I am.” Hale crossed her arms over her chest. “Obviously.”

“If she goes with you then what?” John asked, not so easily deterred.

“Well, I don’t exactly know for sure,” Arkk said, rubbing the side of his head. “I will obviously strive to keep Hale out of any conflict that might arise. The last few times the inquisitors and I met, we just sat down and talked though, so maybe nothing bad will happen at all.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You can go with her as well,” Arkk said on impulse. “I can have accommodations made in an instant.”

“Abandon the village?”

“Not abandon. Just a temporary relocation. As soon as the inquisitors leave, I don’t see any reason why you both can’t return. It’s just that they will almost certainly try to take her while they’re here. Maybe forcibly.” Once again, he should have brought Zullie along to clarify that.

Arkk’s eyes flicked to the crystal ball as Vrox started moving. At the same time, he felt that warning tug from Vezta.

“We need to decide quickly.”

“I choose Arkk,” Hale said, crossing her arms as she shot a glance at John. It wasn’t a challenging look. Rather, she was searching for approval.

Approval came in the form of a groused sigh. “I’m going with her.”

Arkk held out his hand, two gold coins appearing in it just before he uncurled his fingers palm up. “Take the coins and I’ll—”

Two heavy thunks against the door made Hale squeak. Startled, she quickly snatched one of the gold coins. John frowned but followed suit.

In an instant, they were gone. Relocated to the library with Vezta and Zullie. The crystal ball on the table went with them.

Arkk, however, stayed where he was. Vezta wouldn’t approve. He didn’t need to peek into the Fortress to tell. The constant tugs for attention were enough.

But he was curious. What did Vrox want now? Why come back to Langleey? Was this going to be something he had to worry about in the long term? Would he always have to watch his back for inquisitors chasing him down?

Arkk didn’t feel like he was in any danger. If Vrox did move to attack him, he could instantly teleport himself back to the fortress. Meeting here and now was a better option than happening across Vrox in the middle of Cliff or anywhere else where Arkk lacked the advantage of Fortress Al-Mir.

Besides that, it caught Vrox off guard. As Arkk opened the door, he watched the flicker of surprise cross Vrox’s face before the tall man steeled his expression. Abbess Keena, standing just behind and to the side of the inquisitor, didn’t do quite as good of a job at hiding her shock.

“Mister Arkk.” His lips drew back into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I was under the impression that a burgeoning spellcaster called this… hovel her home.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, High Inquisitor. It’s just me today.”

“Not a disappointment at all. You saved me the trouble of tracking you down.” His tone was polite but Arkk could feel the threat. “Might we come in?”

It wasn’t his home. Arkk stepped aside, motioning a hand toward the table and chairs anyway.

Vrox ducked his head to fit under the door but otherwise entered the home as easily as if he owned the place. He didn’t take a seat, moving around and touching things instead; he inspected some of the woodcarving tools on one shelf and then moved to the bed where he rubbed a thick blanket between his fingers. Keena, on the other hand, ducked her head despite her shorter statue, seeming to shrink in on herself as she walked past Arkk. She quickly took a seat at the table and locked her eyes on her lap.

“I knew you were lying to me, Mister Arkk,” Vrox said, pressing his hand to the side of one of the bowls of stew. After a short hum, the tall inquisitor looked back to the gently closing door. “From the moment we met. I could smell it on you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You were in Darkwood a few weeks ago. Defending the burg from a horde of crazed monsters. In addition to your usual cadre of orcs, you were spotted in the presence of a monster with dark violet skin and burning yellow discs against a black starfield for eyes. The horror from beyond the stars.”

“Her name is Vezta,” Arkk said. “She isn’t a horror. That makes twice that she has defended human settlements from monsters. That’s more than I can count for you or the Duke’s men.”

“The inquisitors under my command had to clean up your mess in Darkwood,” Vrox said with his smile widening. “After you fled, we arrived and removed the threat at its source.”

“So much for the ultimate defensive object,” Arkk mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, I hope the people of Darkwood were more appreciative of your efforts than my own.”

Vrox let out a small laugh. “Indeed. We had to decline their invitation to a victory feast. Too much to do. Too many heretics to put in the ground.”

“Me?” Arkk said, raising his eyebrows. “What did I do?”

“Mister Arkk, what do you believe is the purpose of the Inquisition?”

“I’ve… been told that you hunt down users of forbidden magic to kill them and seal away the magic. But I’ve never—”

“Spare me,” Vrox said, raising a hand. “I’ve heard every protest. Lucky for you, I don’t care that you’ve delved into forbidden magic. Only the results of that magic.”

Abbess Keena jerked her head up and looked over to Vrox with as much confusion as Arkk felt.

“I thought your job was to suppress and destroy magic.”

“It is a side-effect of our true purpose. That of keeping beings like your monster out of our world. Some still manage to get here. They are summoned by deviants or manage to force their way through on their own. We are interested in destroying the means they might use to do so. But controlling the creatures? That is an entirely separate interest and one within which we have made many strides.”

“You… want to control her?”

“Control or destroy. I’m not particularly picky,” Vrox said with his same bland smile. “Then find out where she came from and make sure nothing else follows her.”

Arkk drummed his fingers on his thigh, considering. He thought back to his conversation with Abbess Keena back before the goblins assaulted the village, trying to remember everything he had said to her. He knew he mentioned ruins out in the Cursed Forest, a magical artifact, and Vezta. Had he mentioned that all those were pre-Calamity? He thought he had. In that case, repeating it now wouldn’t likely reveal anything new to the inquisitor.

“I might be able to set your mind at least partially at ease. Vezta is pre-Calamity. She has been here for at least a thousand years. From the way she talks, it might be even double that. If nothing has followed her here after all that time, I doubt you have much to worry about.”

“Worry I do,” Vrox said. “Especially when the oracles point me in a direction and I find you sitting along the path. I don’t believe in coincidence, Mister Arkk.”

Arkk just sighed. So much for getting the inquisitors off his back by making a show of cooperation. “Why don’t you speak plainly and tell me what you want? Specifically, what do you want from me?”

Vrox turned his head, looking over Abbess Keena for a moment. “You found an artifact out in that desolate forest.” It wasn’t a question. “That artifact is what granted you control over the creature, correct?”

“I don’t control her. We’re working together—”

“On what?”

“She asked me to clean up some old ruins out there,” Arkk said, figuring Abbess Keena had mentioned that as well. He really wished that he had kept his mouth shut back then, but how could he have known what would happen? That had even been before he made his contract with the [HEART]. “In exchange, she has agreed to help me out. First with defending the village and, later, defending Darkwood Burg.”

“Cleaning ruins makes you worthy of devotion?”

“It’s her home.”

“And the artifact?”

“Honestly, I have no idea what it is.” Before Vrox could call him a liar again, Arkk barreled onward. “It protects the ruins. Vezta can’t interact with it herself. Thus, she requires me to help.” Vague but true.

Vrox hummed. “Very well. Then, you will hand over the artifact for examination. If it is innocuous, it will be returned to you. You will hand over the creature as well. I will not promise its return.”

“I’m going to decline on both fronts then. The artifact is part of Vezta’s home. Vezta has done nothing to harm people. I’m not going to betray that.”

“I wasn’t asking, Mister Arkk.” Vrox’s tone was polite but laced with a painful warning.

“Yeah, well, demand all you want. It won’t change my answer.”

Vrox shook his head, turning to fully face Arkk. “It is unfortunate to hear you say that, Mister Arkk,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his long coat. “I had thought you—”

Arkk didn’t stick around. He reappeared within Fortress Al-Mir’s library and immediately turned to Vezta. “What did he pull out of his pocket?”

The servant leaned over the crystal ball with a frown. “A ring. Silver with a black stone.”

“Magical?” Arkk asked, glancing between her and Zullie.

“Probably,” Zullie said with a shrug. “Can’t tell you what it might do without examining it. I can tell you that inquisitors are known for their use of a variety of holy artifacts.”

“Things that act like that magic wand you had?”

“More or less.”

Arkk nodded twice, feeling entirely justified in escaping before the inquisitor could use that artifact on him. “Keep watching him. The inquisitors know about the ‘ruins’ out here. Since we sealed off all nearby surface entrances, I hope they just wander around until they get bored and leave.”

Otherwise… Otherwise, Vrox claimed that he had killed the Keeper at Darkwood.

They might have a fight on their hands.

It was time for a strategy meeting with Vezta, Rekk’ar, and Zullie.

But first, Arkk turned to the two new guests. Hale and John stood between him, Zullie, and Vezta, right where he had dropped them off at. Hale, having been here before, didn’t look too shocked at her surroundings but John was gawking at the still sparsely populated library. He even reached out and ran his fingers along the wooden shelves.

Arkk just smiled at them. “Welcome to Fortress Al-Mir. I expect you have a few questions. Let’s find you some quarters.”

 

 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Recruiting,” Zullie said.

Zullie stood in a recently emptied storehouse within Langleey Village, hands clasped behind her back as she paced back and forth in front of twelve villagers. Each of the villagers had a magic circle on the floor in front of them. They were simple circles, all of which were the same. Arkk easily recognized the spell to create a temporary, stationary light source. Despite the looks of concentration on most of their faces, only two circles were lit up.

Lips quirking into a frown, Zullie shook her head. “Well, determining whether anyone is worth recruiting. It isn’t looking good.”

“Of course it…” Arkk pressed his fingers to his forehead, rubbing away the headache. “Langleey is just a simple village. We’re not known for our spellcasters.”

“Not known for anything,” Zullie mumbled. “Still, there is some promise,” she said with a motion toward the two lit circles.

One was dim. Jorgen, surprisingly enough, sat in front of it with a scowl on his face. Not quite as big of a scowl as Hurtt, who glared with undisguised envy from the darkened circle one over.

Hale sat in front of the other lit circle. The young girl managed to coax a bright white light from her circle. She was one of the few without that intense focus on her face. Arkk wasn’t too surprised given her ability to use the teleportation circles without being contracted to the [HEART].

“You aren’t thinking of roping a kid into this, are you?”

“We need spellcasters and you haven’t had any luck.”

“I have plans,” Arkk said. “If those inquisitors weren’t buzzing around, I’d have gone to the gorgon mines already.”

Zullie looked over, eyebrow quirked above the rim of her glasses. “Really? You were going to go in there? Do you have a death wish?”

“No. Of course not. I wasn’t going to go in, just toss a message in and run away.”

“Great plan,” Zullie said, tone flat. “I’m not sure that one of these can take a corner position. I’ll have to do a few more tests. This whole charade was just to check on who was worth spending more time on.”

Arkk just sighed. “How did you even get here? And how come you didn’t mention anything about going.”

“I do have two legs,” Zullie said. “I wasn’t aware that I needed your permission to do my job.”

“I could have saved you the time it took to walk. And…” Arkk dropped his voice to a whisper. “I could have saved you the effort of testing this bunch.”

“Would you have mentioned her?” Zullie asked, pointing to Hale. When he didn’t say anything, she continued. “If she had been born in a proper burg or city, she would have been taken in as an initiate. I’m surprised the local abbess didn’t report her.”

Arkk frowned, thinking. “I haven’t been around the village much in recent weeks. But… I don’t think I’ve seen Abbess Keena in months. Huh.”

“She was spying from the door not too long ago. Disappeared just a bit before you arrived, actually. I tried to invite her in to test her as well—any proper abbess should be capable of taking a corner spot in the ritual—but she rejected me. Probably for the best given her profession.”

“I don’t think she likes Vezta much. Or me for bringing Vezta to the village.” Which was probably why the Abbess had been avoiding him. It… did sting a little. Especially because half the reason he had gone back to Vezta for help was that the Abbess reassured him that he wasn’t making a deal with a demon. “Speaking of Vezta, she was looking for you. Which was why I was looking for you.”

“Oh? Did she make any progress on her task?”

A half-smile spread across Arkk’s face. “Oh? You’re giving her tasks now?”

“I thought she was happy to be ordered around. As she keeps reminding us, she is a servant.”

“I don’t know that she is happy to be given orders… Maybe. What did you have her working on? More ritual work?”

Zullie waved a hand, dismissing the notion. “That project is effectively frozen until we’ve got enough personnel to proceed. No, I asked her to write down everything she knows about the older magic used by her former master. Every instance she could recall of him using it, what the effects were, incantations if possible. The evocation ritual was an interesting distraction but I came here to uncover the mysteries of your short incantations.”

Arkk couldn’t stop his sudden laugh. Reversing the Calamity and opening portals to other planes of reality were distractions.

At his laugh, the looks of concentration faded from most of the villagers around. Like a trance broken, everyone looked up to him all at once.

“Arkk’s back!” Hale chirped, only to steel her features in a sudden bout of embarrassment.

“Well, well, well. Look who deigns to visit us mere peasants.”

Arkk turned away from Hale to shoot Hurtt a flat look. He had thought they had been getting along better after the barrows. Seeing that same envious look from earlier directed at him now just made Arkk sigh. “Hello. Harvest went well?”

Higgens made a show of looking around the empty storehouse. “Well enough that the taxman felt he could take the entire stock we had here.”

“Only one storehouse to get us through the winter,” Jorgen grumbled. “Going to have to tighten our belts. Especially with you and Ilya not bringing any meat in.”

Arkk grimaced at that. True, he hadn’t been hunting. The sudden freedom and ability to travel that came with even a modicum of wealth had him focusing on other matters. Things that felt more important. Especially because Fortress Al-Mir provided food on its own.

“I might be able to help with that. I can get some chickens and pigs.” Arkk wasn’t quite sure how but a small portion of gold could be turned into living chickens and pigs within the pens and bread and vegetables in the kitchens. It was an entirely automatic process, providing plenty of meat for Larry to butcher up into passible if not good meals.

“Isn’t that mighty gracious of you, your majesty.”

“What Hurtt means to say,” Higgens said, shooting the larger man a glare, “is that help would be appreciated. We’ve been doing our best but no human can match an elf at hunting.”

Arkk gave the village tailor a flat look, knowing well that he had kept up with Ilya just fine. Mostly. He did have to wonder at just who they had been sending out in his place. Some of the younger boys, probably. Maybe he could have Ilya take them out for some proper hunting lessons when she got back.

With a quick glance through his employee link, Arkk checked on Ilya. The elf had been on her way back with the other orcs for a few weeks now. It did not look like they had accomplished their objective. They only had two new members of their group. Both were elves but they both looked like children. Elves did age a bit slower than humans, so they might have been as old as twenty rather than the ten to fifteen they looked. Even with that consideration, they did not look old enough to be master tailors.

That was a failure on two fronts then. Both his attempts at rapidly increasing Al-Mir’s renown and Ilya’s attempt to get them nicer clothes than the lesser servant could provide. At this point, it was looking like he might have to visit Cliff once again, this time with a sack of gold specifically for fancy attire. He was wealthy enough to simply purchase clothing outright.

All the fancy clothing in the world wouldn’t get them into one of the Duke’s parties, unfortunately.

Visiting Cliff again would give him a chance to meet with Hawkwood. Maybe Wolf as well. They might have some connections he could use.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Zullie said. She lifted a small wooden wand with a handle capped with a violet glowstone that looked like it had been pried off the walls or floor of the fortress. A small wave of the wand created a controlled gust of wind that swept away the magic circles. The only one she skipped over was Hale’s circle. “Come collect the pay I promised and get out,” she said, reaching into a pouch at her hip and pulling out a few silver coins.

Arkk’s eyes were stuck on the wand, however. He recalled something similar at the Cliff Academy. The spellcaster helping Zullie with her shield spell had used a large staff to fling the rocks at her and then later to collect them after the demonstration.

“How does that wand work?”

Zullie glanced over, perplexed even as she handed out coins to the departing villagers. “Right. I keep forgetting you have no magical training or even general knowledge.”

“Sorry. Your lessons are helping.”

“I should hope so. I would hate to think that I’m wasting my time.” Between handing out coins, she held out the wand for Arkk to take. “It is possible to imbue single spells into limited-use items like this wand. Well, mostly into large staffs. Not too popular considering how heavy they are. The glowstones in the fortress are of exceptionally high quality, however, so I was able to craft that. It has a simple wind spell inside that I made as a test.” Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper as she leaned over, tickling Arkk’s ear with her breath. “Nothing impressive to any initiate with the basics of magic down. More than enough to floor some backwoods bumpkins.”

Arkk opened his mouth, about to object to her insult. Keeper of the Heart of Fortress Al-Mir though he might be, he had still started out here with the rest of Langleey Village. Before he could, however, Zullie pulled away to chase down Hale, grabbing the younger girl by the shoulders.

“Not you. You stay.”

“But John wanted me back by—”

“You really want to go back to…” Zullie started waving her hand in a circular motion, grasping for a word. “Peasanty things,” she settled on, “instead of learning magic?”

Hale’s eyes widened. After a quick glance at Arkk, who just sighed, she looked back to Zullie and offered a hesitant, “No?”

“No, you don’t want to learn magic?”

“No! I meant no to the other thing. But John…”

“I’m sure he would be happy to know that you’re moving up in the world, not bound and tethered to this… slovenly place.”

Hale crossed her arms, pouting a pout that said she didn’t understand the word but still understood that she had been insulted. She didn’t get much of a chance to continue her pout, however, as Zullie reached out and grabbed her head.

“Open, tongue out,” Zullie said, pinching the sides of Hale’s cheeks.

“Wha—”

“Chin up,” Zullie said, lightly tapping Hale’s chin closed. “Look at my eyes.”

“Bwah—”

Hale, now trying to shove Zullie’s hands off her face, squeaked in surprise as Zullie leaned over and started peering into her ear. With a slight grunt, Hale squirmed out of her grip. “Can you read?” Zullie asked, undaunted by the look on the twin-tailed girl.

“A few words,” Hale grumbled, rubbing her cheeks.

“We’ll work on that too. Now, sit and—”

“It’s late,” Arkk said. “Let her go back today and talk about it with John. There isn’t any rush given that we still need several others.” Looking at Hale, Arkk nodded his head toward the door. “Go ahead and get back to John. We’ll… get back to you tomorrow, I guess.”

Hale nodded twice. Spring in her step, she started toward the door only to pause and switch to a more serious style of walking. She kept her hands at her side without swinging them in the slightest as she marched out of the warehouse.

“Who is John? Her father?”

“The local carpenter. Treats her like his daughter. No one knows who her actual parents are. She just showed up on the Baron’s doorstep one day as a baby.”

“Really? Odd. Or is it odd? I don’t know how these peasants work. Does that happen often?”

Arkk shrugged. “A number of us don’t have parents. Not everyone just shows up in the middle of the night but pretty much everyone in the village is missing at least one parent or, failing that, a grandparent or two.”

“Mhm. I never knew my parents.”

“Oh. Sorry?”

“Doesn’t bother me,” Zullie said, her tone as clinical as when discussing the difference between a rune and a stave. “If I knew my parents, we wouldn’t be talking now.”

“How so?”

“When the church identifies someone with the potential for spellcasting, they’re taken away as initiates. A propensity for holy magic results in an acolyte. I showed promise for the arcane and was shoved into one of the academies. If I had been left with my family…” Zullie stared after the door Hale had just vanished through, shaking her head.

“I… barely remember my parents,” Arkk said slowly. “Ilya’s mother raised me, taught me to read, and showed me that I had the capacity for magic—even if I only caused explosions at the time.”

“That is the woman you’re trying to rescue from the Duke?”

“Yeah.”

“And she knows magic?”

“I don’t think…” Arkk paused, considering the question. “Actually, I don’t know. I don’t remember ever seeing her cast a spell, either through ritual or incantation, but it is a bit strange that she knew enough about magic to identify me as a spellcaster.”

The conversation lapsed into a few moments of silence. Arkk thought about Alya and the small ritual circle she had drawn to get him to try. It was a faint memory. Something he had thought that she had come up with as a way to get his mind off his recently deceased parents. He couldn’t remember the ritual circle or even what its intention was, only that it had turned into a bright burning fireball that Alya had then used a wet rag to beat out before it could spread through their house.

She had ordered him to never try magic indoors again.

“Perhaps she would be willing to take up a position around our ritual then.”

“Maybe,” Arkk allowed. He wasn’t so sure about that. When the subject of rescuing Alya had first come up after finding Fortress Al-Mir, Ilya had mentioned something about how Alya had been living in the village to keep watch on the Cursed Forest. If that translated to keeping watch on Vezta and the [HEART], she might not be so enthusiastic. “We have to get her out of the Duke’s manor first. With everything else I tried ending up poorly, I had been hoping to use this ritual to do that. Vezta says we will be able to find allies on the other side of the portal. If we need her, then we’ll have to find another way.”

“That sounds like something for you to figure out,” Zullie said, stiffening her back. “Now, as long as you are here…”

“What? Don’t want to use your legs to get back to the fortress?”

“I’ve done enough physical exertion for the day.”

With an amused snort, Arkk ripped both of them through space. They reappeared just outside Zullie’s room, down the hall from the library.

Vezta stepped out from the latter room the same instant that they appeared. “Master, there you are,” she said, walking closer. “I was just about to call for your attention.”

“Something wrong?”

“I have an update on the task you assigned to me,” she said, holding out the crystal ball.

Arkk leaned in, peering at the image already on display. A familiar dirt road, roughly halfway between Smilesville and Langleey. Arkk, Ilya, and Dakka had camped on it while on their way to Cliff. At the moment, there was just one small black carriage traveling along the bumpy road.

“The inquisitors are on the move.”