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“Inquisitors incoming.”

“Good. Maybe.” Arkk took a deep, shuddering breath as he leaned toward the crystal ball. “Dakka?”

The orc snorted. “Hope these guys put up a better fight than the last group. I was looking forward to knocking some heads.”

Arkk teleported Dakka and her team back to the false fortress. It would be a bit strange for them to simply return to training after being ‘invaded’ so, this time around, they were going to be ‘patrolling’ the halls. Several more orcs were ready and waiting in reserve for when Dakka’s team made their tactical retreat.

After some consideration, Arkk had decided to take Rekk’ar’s advice and make use of the orcs he had rather than throwing himself into the deep end of things on his own.

The goal was to draw the inquisitors toward the false [HEART], falling back in a losing battle the entire way. It was a delicate operation. They had to put up a fight to keep the inquisitors from being suspicious without putting up so much of a fight that the inquisitors ended up retreating and returning another day with reinforcements.

“Zullie, are you ready?”

“Beyond ready,” the witch said, eagerly peering into her own crystal ball. “I hope that purifier uses her flames against the door. I’ve always wanted to study their magic but purifiers are rare and exclusively under the church’s control.”

It had taken a few hours for the mercenaries to find the inquisitors and then another few to return. At that time, Arkk had asked John and Perr’ok to repair the false door in the entryway of the false fortress. It wasn’t quite as sturdy as the original, having been a rush job, but it should prove a big enough inconvenience that they would once again use magic to blast it down.

The inquisitors and their magic were the biggest unknowns and, therefore, the biggest danger. Forcing them to use magic in a safe and controlled environment would give them time to come up with countermeasures. Or rather, give Zullie time to come up with countermeasures. Arkk held out little hope that anything would be ready in time for this battle now but should he cross paths with the inquisitors in the future, Arkk really didn’t want to fight fire that could burn even water without protection.

At the moment, the plan was to evacuate Dakka and the other orcs the moment they came into danger. For burn injuries, they would be relying on Vezta. It wasn’t something she had a lot of experience in but Vezta claimed that she could tend to most mild burns about as well as she could tend to cuts. Apparently, in her day, warlocks were capable of performing magic that rejuvenated and healed in only a few words. It came as a surprise to her that Zullie knew nothing about healing magic.

The idea that spellcasters had known healing magic was something Zullie found similarly ridiculous. Healing magic—proper healing—was a miracle, not magic. Arkk was a bit skeptical as well given that all the healing magic he knew of came from the Light via people like Abbess Keena. Even assuming the warlocks of Vezta’s time had been able to cast such magics, Arkk figured the traitorous Light trinity would have done something to strip those powers from people who weren’t of their church.

Shoving his thoughts aside, Arkk watched the three inquisitors descend the hidden staircase and approach the false door. Darius Vrox took the lead, moving casually as if he expected little in the way of danger. He kept his hands dangling at his sides, nowhere near the short sword he carried on his hip.

The chronicler, Douglas Greesom if Arkk remembered correctly, followed after Vrox. Like Vrox, Greesom didn’t wield any weapon. The short man didn’t even have a sword. Instead, he had a small note tablet in which he was almost constantly writing. Chronicler of everything, apparently.

Purifier Agnete followed along at the rear, being the last in the group. She moved with a rigid stiffness but, unlike the last few times Arkk saw the woman, she had developed an excited twitch in her fingers. The scars and lines on her face weren’t just faintly glowing anymore either. They burned. Her eyes, rather than merely having a bright light amid her dark pupils, were blazing with a heat haze hanging over her vision.

She was gearing up for a fight.

Arkk nervously tapped his fingers against the table, wondering if he shouldn’t get Dakka out of there immediately and hope that the inquisitors thought the mercenaries had frightened everyone out of the fortress.

The mercenaries, gathered around their horse and sitting dejectedly upon a stump, had been told to stay up on the surface.

After a few minutes of inspecting the door, Vrox and the chronicler headed back up the stairs, leaving the purifier at the bottom.

“This is it,” Zullie said with a wide grin.

Red-white flames erupted around the purifier’s arms, wrapping around her body before exploding outward, setting everything on fire. Not just the door but the stone tiles and walls and even the purifier’s own clothes. The black uniform burned away in an instant, revealing the purifier’s facial scars extended across her entire body. The door collapsed into ashes, having withstood the heat only moments longer than the cloth. The metal fasteners holding it to the wall began glowing a bright red before warping and melting.

Path clear, the purifier stepped forward. Her bare feet left foot-shaped indentations of molten rock in her wake.

Two of Dakka’s black-armored orcs stood just down the corridor. They barely had time to gather their wits before the purifier swept an arm forward.

A wave of flames careened down the hall, setting the walls, ceiling, and floor alight.

“Arkk!” Rekk’ar shouted.

Arkk ripped the two orcs out of there before Rekk’ar could finish his single word, dropping them into the meeting room just a little too slowly.

An insidious heat filled the room along with pained and panicked screaming. The heat wave was hot enough that it felt like Arkk had thrown himself into a blacksmith’s forge.

Zullie was on her feet instantly, rattling off an impossibly long incantation in a mere few seconds while Ilya took off her cloak and tried to get closer to the burning armor of the orc. Tried. The heat kept her at bay until Zullie’s incantation finished and a frosty fog flooded out from her hands.

Although Zullie said that the flames could burn water, their power must have lessened outside the presence of the purifier.

Ilya moved forward once again, using her cloak to protect herself from the lingering heat on the metal armor as she worked to pry it off the orc. Rekk’ar moved up and joined her, not bothering with anything beyond his thin leather gloves.

Arkk, not needing a crystal ball to observe the goings on of the fortress, quickly realized that the part of the fortress where the purifier was standing wasn’t his fortress anymore. The purifier had broken the claim he held over the territory. Whether that was an aspect of her fire magic or a result of her destroying the tiles she was stepping on was a question he would have to ask Vezta later.

For now, he teleported the remaining orcs, bringing them straight to the meeting room.

“You know, being jerked back and forth…” Dakka trailed off as she realized just what was going on. “Holy Light… What—”

“Later. We aren’t fighting that thing. Vezta—”

“I apologize, Master. My method of healing will do little for him. Those flames are not natural fire.”

“I noticed,” Arkk hissed.

“You…” Zullie panted, letting her arms drop. The chill fog dispersed over a few seconds while she caught her breath. “You recognize it?”

“Quite so. That woman has been chosen as an avatar by the Burning Forge.”

“Let me guess, one of your Pantheon?” Arkk groaned, staring back into the crystal ball. It irked him that he had to use it. This was supposed to be his territory. The fact that his claim was being destroyed grated on him deep within in a way that he couldn’t fully articulate. “That isn’t one of the traitor’s names. Are there more you don’t know about?”

“I am… unsure,” Vezta admitted. “Its presence is perplexing, I assure you.”

“Who is the Burning Forge?” Arkk asked, watching as the purifier continued advancing, seemingly not having noticed the sudden disappearance of the orcs.

“The Burning Forge is the patron of heat, fire, craftsmanship, manufacturing, automation, and creativity.”

“I’m only noticing the first two traits on display here,” Arkk said through pursed lips. He flicked his eyes up from the crystal ball. The orc who had been hit by the flames was still alive. The fire had swept up his legs, thankfully hitting the armor first. That might have saved his legs from being completely burned off but the armor itself had melted to his skin.

It smelled like a particularly burned roast in the meeting room at the moment.

“Do you know how we counter it?”

“I do not,” Vezta said. She then pointed at her crystal ball, which was not focused on the purifier. “They might.”

Darius Vrox and Chronicler Greesom were advancing into the false fortress, following in the wake of the purifier. The flames, still burning the stone and the walls, faded just a step ahead of him. Or rather, they faded just ahead of a small marble he held out. It looked glassy and crystalline. Like a small sphere of ice.

It also floated just above his palm.

Arkk drummed his fingers on the table, trying not to be distracted by the others in the room helping the fallen orc. There wasn’t anything he could do for him at the moment. The only healing spell he knew wasn’t designed for healing. Flesh Weaving required flesh, not charcoal.

“The purifier has destroyed my territory. Otherwise, I would just teleport in behind them, blast them with lightning bolts, and take that marble thing.”

“Forgive me for asking, Master, but is this not what you wanted? They’ll march through, destroy the fake [HEART], and presumably leave afterward.”

“True,” Arkk said. Then he frowned. “If they realize we tricked them, they’ll be back. As it stands, I don’t think we can fight that purifier.” Turning, Arkk locked eyes with Vezta. “I presume you aren’t willing to leave Fortress Al-Mir?”

Vezta went utterly still, not even twitching.

“I didn’t think so. I’m not either. Strange as it might sound, this place has grown on me. I don’t think I could abandon it.”

“You cannot,” Vezta said. “The [HEART] is your heart. You cannot abandon it.”

Arkk blinked once before his eyes widened in sudden realization. “If it is destroyed… I die?”

“I believe I have said the [HEART] is your heart before.”

The phrasing did sound vaguely familiar. She had said that once or twice. Still, Arkk felt a sudden tension clench in his chest that he hadn’t felt before. “You could have communicated that a little more clearly,” he hissed, noting the flood of red light that was emanating from his eyes. “We’ll talk later. For now…” Taking a breath, Arkk spoke louder, addressing the chaotic room. “New objective, acquire that marble. If it is our protection against that fire magic, we can’t let it get away while it is so close. Next time, they might send the purifier alone and then we’ll all be screwed.”

Him especially because it sounded like he couldn’t just run.

“Any suggestions?”

The meeting room was fully staffed at the moment. More than fully staffed with the addition of Dakka’s team. Ilya and Rekk’ar were still helping the downed orc—Katt’am—who might have passed out from the pain. The employee link was still there, so he was alive. Olatt’an hadn’t gotten up when the orcs appeared, choosing to simply observe passively through Vezta’s crystal ball. Zullie was only just sitting back down, still looking spent. Khan was the only other in the room, coiled at the far end of the table and casually watching the goings on. Arkk wasn’t sure what the serpent was thinking at the moment. He couldn’t even pretend to read the gorgon’s expressions and, so far, he hadn’t said anything.

Those in a position to look at him were doing so like he was insane.

Maybe he was. The others didn’t have quite as perfect of a map of the false fortress as he did—because it was literally part of him, apparently—but they could still see the crystal balls. While the inquisitors were extinguishing flames directly in their path, they weren’t doing anything to the flames that burned down the side corridors or rooms. Even if he waited for them to pass by one of the intact areas, he would still have a wall of that cursed fire between him and that ice marble.

Ilya was the one to look up and speak. “Do what you did to the orc chieftain. Send your servants to dig a pit along their path and have them take out the floor as Vrox passes over it.”

“Possible,” Arkk said, rubbing at some of the scruff on his chin. Teleporting the lesser servants nearby, he sent a few mental commands, having them dig out a small pit as Ilya suggested. “I’d have to enter into close quarters with them. We still don’t know what Vrox or that chronicler are capable of. Not to mention we don’t know how quickly the purifier will notice that her friends are in trouble.”

Olatt’an interlaced his fingers as he set his elbows on the table. “Is there time to make the pit large enough to hold a contingent of orcs? Dakka’s contingent of orcs plus our battle ready should be able to overwhelm the inquisitors unless they have similar flames.”

“It is doubtful they do,” Vezta said. “Avatars are rare. I would be surprised if there was more than one for each of the [PANTHEON] at any given moment in time.”

“Purifiers are well known,” Zullie said. “Plural. Not saying they’re common but—”

“It doesn’t matter whether there are more outside here or not,” Arkk said, ordering the servants to create a constrained yet large fighting arena. It was a rush job but the magic of the fortress wouldn’t let it collapse on top of them. “Vrox and Greesom aren’t purifiers. They don’t have glowing scars and eyes.”

Zullie dipped her head, acknowledging the point.

“Anyone else?”

“Yeah, uh…” Dakka, helmet under her arm, shot a glance down at her downed comrade. “If that fire bitch turns around—”

“We’ll be gone before we can blink.”

“Good. Not too interested in experiencing that.”

Arkk looked at the crystal balls. The purifier was making slow progress despite there being absolutely no resistance to her advance. She wasn’t in the slightest hurry to get through the fortress. In retrospect, he should have filled the place with traps as Vezta had suggested. Though they might have fallen to ash before they could do anything. Too late now.

“I’m constructing an area to fight in shortly before the false heart chamber. A servant will eat the floor just as Vrox steps over it. We’ll be ready at the bottom. If somebody, anybody, grabs that marble, alert me immediately through the link. We don’t know what kind of abilities Vrox has so be on your guard. Any questions?”

He deliberately glanced at Khan. With the gorgon’s power, Vrox would have been stoned the moment he looked up from his fall. Then again, Vrox might realize and close his eyes before Khan could work his petrification magic. That alone would have been a victory… It just felt too easy.

His position felt precarious. Like balancing on the tip of a needle.

The gorgon didn’t speak and Arkk didn’t want to leave his gaze on the creature for long, so he broke eye contact and swept his eyes over the rest of the room. It was a quick, haphazard plan. He could already hear the chewing-out Rekk’ar would surely give him later for not having planned for something like this. Still, it was the best they had on short notice.

Very short notice.

“Unless they pick up the pace, Vrox will be over the pit in about two minutes. Everyone who can grab your gear.”

The room burst into motion. Rekk’ar and Olatt’an had to grab their weapons, as did Ilya. Dakka barked out a few orders to those of her troupe that were still standing. Arkk waited just a moment before teleporting them and the reserve force of orcs into the still-under-construction pit. Dakka could explain.

Looking down at the injured orc, Arkk grimaced. Rather than just leave him here, Arkk teleported Larry straight out of the kitchens. The butcher, holding a large knife, swung it down like he was expecting a chicken to be in front of him. Instead, it slammed down on the meeting room table.

The overweight orc blinked and looked around.

“Uh…”

“Larry, I know it isn’t your job,” Arkk said, “but we’re in a bit of an emergency. Can you help him?”

“What? I—Oh, shit. He try dancing on a charbroiler?”

“Something like that,” Arkk grumbled. “If you can’t do anything for him, just make him comfortable. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Sure, I guess I can. I… Okay.” Larry took in a deep breath, wiped his hands on his apron, and then knelt down. It was a bit awkward watching him bend over—he had only put on more weight since coming to the fortress—but Arkk didn’t have time to stick around and talk more.

Arkk teleported away along with the other members of his council—including Khan.

Arkk held his breath and glanced down at a crystal ball that popped into his hands. Three of the lesser servants were clinging to the ceiling, waiting for his command. Every other servant he had available was digging at the walls, enlarging the area to make room for the potential fight.

“Get ready, everyone,” Arkk said, watching as the purifier crossed over the servants. “Primary objective is the marble. We don’t want to kill him, if possible,” he added, still holding out hope that his original plan wasn’t a complete loss, “but do it if necessary.”

Ilya nocked her bow while Olatt’an cranked back his crossbow. Vezta repositioned in front of Arkk, ready to intercept anything coming his way. Dakka and her orcs slowly started to spread out around the hole in the ceiling of the room.

“Ready,” Arkk said, holding up a finger as he watched Vrox unknowingly approach the pitfall. “Ready…”

“Now!”

 

 

“Status report,” Arkk said as soon as he teleported into the meeting room.

The previous day’s outing had been a welcome distraction, enlightening, and worrisome all at the same time. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—he had other, more pressing matters to attend to now. Namely, the possible invasion of Fortress Al-Mir.

Vezta had called him, tugging on their link, shortly after daybreak. He would have figured that this was too early for anyone to arrive, not having expected them until noon, and yet Arkk recognized some of the landscape displayed on the crystal ball in front of Vezta. Particularly, one of the dead husks of a petrified tree wasn’t far from the fake ruins he had scattered around on the surface.

Without looking up from the crystal ball, Vezta managed to make eye contact. “It appears as if some of our guests got an early start this morning. They just stumbled over some of the bricks you left lying about.”

“I planted the bricks,” Arkk said idly. “Leaving them about makes it sound like I made a mess and didn’t clean it up.”

Vezta didn’t comment.

“There is an entrance hidden not far from where they are,” Arkk said, leaning into the crystal ball. “Think they’ll find it?”

“They definitely noticed the bricks. Before now, they were mostly meandering. Now they’re actually searching.”

Arkk looked over the group. Four people on foot. One on a horse. Judging by their attire, which was made up of well-made gambesons and well-fitting trousers, and their weapons which looked professionally made, this was one of the mercenary teams. The horse had an especially fancy caparison draped over it, colored white and red with little tent-like symbols patterned over it. That was the biggest tell. The caparison was for pure prestige. It wasn’t practical to fight in and it wasn’t even really practical to search a wasteland in.

Honestly, Arkk wasn’t sure what it was for. Parading about and showing off, he supposed. They probably had it on now to show off to any other mercenary groups who showed up. Or perhaps as an advertisement, passing through various villages on the way here who might have needed help.

“From what I learned in town yesterday, the inquisitors warned everyone that the ruins would likely be infested with dangerous monsters. They didn’t mention you or even a creature from ‘beyond the stars’ or whatever, just that the teams were to report anything they found immediately rather than try to investigate on their own.”

“The horse hasn’t run off yet,” Vezta said.

Arkk nodded. Maybe they didn’t consider a few crumbled bricks to be anything worth mentioning. “I’ll make sure Dakka and her team are ready, just in case. If they find the entrance or leave the area, let me know immediately.”

“Of course, Master.”

Arkk disappeared before she even finished bowing in his direction.

Unlike his normal efforts to avoid disturbing his employees, where Arkk would appear out of sight and then walk to them, Arkk now teleported directly into the meal hall. Dakka sat at one of the long tables along with a few other orcs, all still eating their breakfasts.

Despite ostensibly being a mercenary company, Fortress Al-Mir was lax in discipline. People ate when they wanted, woke when they wanted, trained how and when they wanted, and otherwise went about their own business. As long as the teams he sent out to handle wolf culling or whatever other jobs he decided to accept actually did their jobs, he didn’t care much how they went about it. Aside from Rekk’ar’s frequent issues about avoiding suicide missions, Arkk hadn’t heard any complaints. He knew that orcs, or at least these orcs, took pride enough in their martial abilities to not fall into lazy habits.

From their perspectives, they probably felt they had a decent job. He paid them a gold coin a month. There weren’t many places to spend that money save for when they went out on their jobs. Still, a year of working for him would let them retire in relative wealth.

In times like this, however, Arkk wondered if he was being a bit too lax. They looked slovenly, hunched over, barely awake. They had probably been drinking all evening despite knowing they might be needed today.

Even Dakka looked sluggish in getting to her feet.

“Arkk,” she said, clearly putting effort into looking more alert than she actually was.

Arkk looked over her and the four she was sitting with. “How soon can you be ready?”

Dakka glanced between her fellow orcs. Katt’am, Orjja, and Farr’an. Two others were part of her team for this but neither were present in the meal hall. Arkk hoped they were getting ready and weren’t passed out somewhere.

Nevertheless, Dakka looked him directly in the eye and said, “Ten minutes.”

Arkk was tempted to say that she only had five minutes but refrained. “Ten minutes,” he said instead, letting her have the time she said she needed.

“Do we have intruders?”

“Not yet but a small group is close by. I want you on standby just in case.”

“We’ll be ready!” Dakka said, slamming a fist into her chest.

Arkk hoped so. He still made a mental note to warn the orcs against excessive drinking the night before an operation… especially because they were supposed to have been on standby the day before as well.

Feeling a tug, Arkk teleported back to the meeting room. He looked at Vezta in mild confusion only to realize that it hadn’t been her calling for his attention. Teleporting away without a word, Arkk reappeared in front of Zharja, the gorgon with the iridescent black scales. She wasn’t in the gorgon section of the fortress but was actually in the library. Yet Zharja hadn’t been the one to call him here either.

Turning, Arkk frowned at the stone statue of Savren and then at Zullie, who was seated at a desk casually reading one of Savren’s books on mind magics.

Arkk let out a long sigh as he felt another tug, this time actually from Vezta. “Now really isn’t the time,” he said before teleporting back to Vezta.

They could figure that out on their own. For now…

“Problems?”

“They found the entrance.”

“Already?” Arkk grimaced as he peeked in on Dakka and her team. They were still armoring up.

“You did leave footprints leading toward it. Once they started searching the area, it didn’t take long for them to realize that some of the footprints weren’t their own. Maybe some peasants would have missed it but this team knows what they are doing.” She paused and then added, “They still haven’t sent away their horseman to fetch the inquisitors. The rider dismounted and leashed the horse to one of the dead trees.”

“They’re going to investigate without informing the inquisitors.”

“Shall I interdict, Master?”

Arkk frowned and slowly shook his head. “Dakka will be ready in a few minutes. Unless they rush through, they won’t get very far before she can intercept. I would rather have the team report orcs over you when they run away.”

“The inquisitors are already aware of my presence.”

“Yes but only in a general sense. You were last seen not far from Hope’s Rest, which is pretty much on the other side of the Duchy. I was seen there too. If the inquisitors destroy the fake fortress without realizing we’re present… well, I don’t know what then but it seems like a surprise we should keep secret as long as possible.”

“If you’re sure, Master… It appears as if they are stumped by your door.”

“Oh?” Arkk smiled, sitting next to Vezta to look into the crystal ball.

A short staircase led down to the fairly shallow fortress. It was much closer to the surface than Fortress Al-Mir proper was. A few parts of it even poked out above the layer of crusty dirt, though they were fairly well disguised as Arkk didn’t want to be too conspicuous. Following the staircase down, however, led the intruders to a large wooden door. At least, it looked like a door. It was fully fastened into place and not designed to move.

One of the mercenaries had pulled out several metal rods that he then stuck into the locking mechanism. Which didn’t function. He could try fiddling with the lock as much as he wanted and the door would never open. Arkk had intended for it to be broken down, hopefully by the inquisitors using their magic so that he might be able to see what kind of magic they used.

Sure enough, the one picking the lock gave up after a few minutes. His friends admonished him, one even going so far as to swat him on the back of the head. After, they all started arguing with several making gestures toward the door.

In a pique of curiosity, Arkk teleported out of the meeting room and reappeared on the other side of the door. The seal wasn’t perfect on it which was good for him at the moment. It meant he could hear.

“—good thing! I wanted to tell the inquisitors.”

“We will. After we get first pick of the loot. Think we can knock it down?”

Arkk jerked back as something heavy slammed into the opposite side of the door. After two extra thumps, the pounding stopped.

“Seems sturdy. Maybe if we had some tools.”

“Quit that! What if something heard you?”

“Like what? I asked around town. Lots of scary rumors about this so-called Cursed Forest but listen to the facts, not the superstition, and you realize nothing lives out here. No plants, no animals, certainly no monsters or the surrounding villages would be ravaged. There would be rumors of things attacking and yet there is nothing of the sort.”

“Inquisitors don’t investigate places like this for no reason.”

“Yeah, well, they—”

“This door is wood,” a new voice cut in.

The statement got a few hearty scoffs. “We have eyes, Frank.”

“Yes, but wood rots. This door isn’t rotten at all. If this place had been sitting around for hundreds of years, there shouldn’t be anything left of this door.”

A long moment of silence stretched thin as the mercenaries quickly realized that there was someone out here.

“The inquisitors said there was a monster out here. What kind of monster puts up a door?”

“The worst monster of all. Human. Or demihuman.”

“Bah. That just means it is an easily defeated monster. You know what else wood does? It burns.”

Letting out a sigh, Arkk teleported back to the meeting room just in time to watch Dakka march inside. The shortest orc looked much more alert now than she had a few minutes ago. His appearance made her stiffen, straightening her shoulders and neck. She wore her new armor. Orcs, having fairly tough bodies, generally only covered their chests with armor and left their arms bare. Not today. Dakka looked like a proper knight of the realm.

Except, while the silhouette was right, her armor wasn’t a shining silver color. Arkk wasn’t sure where she had dug up whatever she had used as paint but the silver was tarnished and blackened with angry red lines jagged across the breastplate. Combined with the ominous spikes on her shoulders and arms that the orcs had insisted on despite Arkk’s complaints, she presented an imposing look. Once she donned the spiked helmet that she held under her arm, it was doubtful that anyone would realize she was an orc.

“Sir.”

Arkk gave her a nod before looking back down to the crystal ball. One of the mercenaries pulled out a thin book and started flipping through the pages. Upon finding what he was looking for, he began a fairly lengthy spell. A ball of fire splashed against the door a moment later and a ding of a warning bell sounded in the back of Arkk’s mind at someone attacking his home. It didn’t set the door ablaze but, after three more balls of fire, some parts did start smoldering. They would get through sooner or later if they kept that up.

Judging by how winded the caster was, it might be much later. He probably wasn’t a very high-caliber spellcaster. That book probably wasn’t that valuable either.

“These are our current targets,” Arkk said, holding up the crystal ball for Dakka to see. “Five men. One seems capable of magic but not that capable. The rest look like average warriors.”

“We can handle that,” Dakka said, cracking her knuckles. “Easy.”

“I’m not going to hamstring you by telling you to go light on them but we do want them to run away and tell the inquisitors.”

“Frighten them off rather than kill them. Understood.”

“Good.” Arkk lowered the crystal ball. “Are the rest of your team ready?”

“Should be. If they’re not, it is their own fault.”

“Good. I’ll move you all to the false training room. Feel free to get warmed up there until the mercenaries show then dispatch them however you see fit. Remind your team that I can evacuate you at a moment’s notice.”

“None of us would run from battle.”

“You aren’t going to have a choice,” Arkk said, motioning to the crystal ball. “I’ll be watching.”

Dakka curled her lips in distaste. “Whatever. You won’t have to evacuate me,” she said with bared tusks. “Enjoy the show.”

Arkk teleported Dakka without another word, sending her and the other orcs into the false fortress. The training room was a large chamber with several wooden facsimiles of people holding wooden swords and shields, not too far from the burning door. The orcs, after getting over their initial disorientation from being relocated, happily began beating down the mannequins with their very real weapons. Arkk was quite pleased to note that all of them had, indeed, been ready. Or, at least, they had their weapons and armor equipped.

“Think they’ll do well?” Arkk asked.

Vezta simply gestured to the crystal ball. “The mercenaries are not equipped to fight a protracted battle. They are geared lightly for travel. Even fully drunk and naked, I imagine the orcs would still have the edge.”

Arkk sat down next to Vezta, clasping his hands together as the weakened door fell inwards after a few hearty blows from the mace-wielding mercenary. With them now stepping into his domain, Arkk didn’t need the crystal ball to keep track of them. He could see every part of Fortress Al-Mir, including the false fortress, with little more than a thought. The warning bells of intruders violating his sanctuary started going off in his mind.

“Honestly,” Vezta said, angling her upper body to face Arkk, “their armor makes them look remarkably similar to the Dark Knights of old. A band of mercenaries ten strong would balk at even a single Dark Knight. If these people have any sense about them, they’ll run the moment they catch sight of the orcs.”

“Dark Knights?”

“An Underworldian order of martial combatants. Considered the elite among the elite. They appeared human but… weren’t. Not quite. They valued strength and power above all and were a bit annoying with how upset they got if they couldn’t fight for more than a few days.” Vezta hummed, changing the view of the crystal ball to the training room. She watched a few minutes, observing the way Dakka slammed her axe down on one of the mannequins, dismembering an arm and a leg in one swift blow. “I wonder if these orcs are somehow descended from remnants of them.”

“You said orcs didn’t exist in your time?”

“Not as far as I’m aware. Their physical appearance drastically differs but who knows what chaos the Calamity wrought.”

“Undoing the Calamity won’t… I don’t know, change them back or anything, will it?”

“It is just speculation. And, as I have said in the past, I wouldn’t expect such drastic changes. At least not immediately. Perhaps there is some magical link that was severed that turned the Dark Knights into the orcs of today but expecting them to suddenly change forms is a bit much for such unmalleable creatures. If this speculation has more to it than idle thoughts, perhaps future generations might see change.

“The primary evidences you should look for upon completion of our ritual would be a massive increase in magical capacity for any capable spellcaster as the source of all magic stems from the [PANTHEON]. At the moment, only three of the [PANTHEON] are capable of providing magic to this world, leading to the decline in magic-sensitive species, lesser power for those casters, and weakened artifacts such as the [HEART] of Fortress Al-Mir.”

“I see. Well…” Arkk trailed off, noticing the mercenaries slowing as they walked down the long entrance corridor of the false fortress. He still couldn’t hear them but he could watch them bicker among themselves once again. “Looks like our intruders have noticed the sounds of the training room. Wonder if they’ll be brave enough to… Oh, there they go.”

The five mercenaries slammed their fists into open palms three times, making shapes with their hand with each thrust, before one of them visibly groaned. Shuddering, he readied his sword and slowly approached the training room door.

This one was an actual door and was designed to open for anyone. It took a force of effort rather than the automatic doors that existed around the main fortress area. As such, the mercenary was able to pull it open just a crack.

From experience, Arkk knew that door creaked when it opened. A loud and high-pitched noise that grated on the ears. Watching the mercenary’s face made him laugh. Doubly so once the orcs in the training room paused their mock fights and all slowly turned to face the door.

As slowly as he opened it, the mercenary closed the door once again. Once it clicked shut, the man stepped back, turned, and started running. He ran straight past the other mercenaries despite their obvious protests. They shouted after him right up until the fully armored orcs stepped out into the hall, weapons at the ready.

“Well,” Arkk said with a sigh. “I kind of expected some kind of a fight. Dakka is going to be disappointed.”

“It is for the best,” Vezta said, smiling as she watched the mercenaries flee in the crystal ball. “Conserve their strength for when the inquisitors arrive. I imagine they will be arriving sooner rather than later.”

“True.”

“I still think we should slaughter them. Collapse the entire ruined wing of Fortress Al-Mir on top of their heads.”

Arkk shook his head. “That’s the backup plan.”

“Understood, Master. Are you fully prepared?”

“As much as I’m able, I think. We just have to trick them and ‘escape’. What could go wrong?”

Vezta looked over with a sorry frown on her face. “My former master was not fond of such statements.”

“We’ve planned a lot,” Arkk said, trying to fight down his own nervousness at the situation. “We’ll be fine.”

“Oh dear.”

 

 

Stone Hearth Burg was a typical example of a walled burg within the Duchy. Three months ago, Arkk would have said that it was quite a large place. That was really only in comparison to Langleey, however. In comparison to most of the burgs he had visited in his travels, it was on the smaller side. One unusual facet of the burg was that almost every building was predominantly made from stone rather than wood. Or a stone-wood mix, generally with a stone foundation and wooden roofs.

The abundance of building material came from the quarry a stone’s toss from the main burg. Allegedly, most of the stone structures within the Duchy, including almost all churches and the majority of Cliff, got their stone from here. With such a chief export, Arkk was a bit surprised at its small size.

“Can we… pet the horses?”

Arkk glanced down in mild surprise as Yavin asked a question. Following the elven boy’s eyes, Arkk found one of the things they had come here for. A short hike outside the burg itself was a large stable with an expansive pasture fenced off from the wilds. Having asked around in town, Arkk had been directed out here. One family owned most of the workhorses that were used in and around the burg. Mostly in the quarry.

“Of course we can,” Hale said, flashing a smile at the elf. She tried to grasp hold of Yavin’s hand but the young elf flinched away from her. Undaunted, Hale took a few steps away and started waving. “Come on!”

“Hold on,” Arkk said. He didn’t want to stop their fun but felt it would be best for them to not be traipsing around someone’s property right before he tried to make any kind of business deal with them. “Let’s see if they have anything for sale first. If they do, you can ride it home. If not, you have to ask the owner first.”

Hale shot him a glare but Arkk shrugged it off. Yavin looked at him as if he forgot that Arkk was there. After a short minute, he simply nodded his head in a slow and hesitant affirmation that he understood, moving back to partially hide behind John.

Arkk tried to hide his sigh. He didn’t know why Yavin was so afraid of him. Was it just that he was new, relatively speaking? Arkk hadn’t done anything to the boy to give cause to that kind of reaction.

Nyala, on the other hand, simply stared straight ahead. Even with the numerous horses grazing and running about in the pasture, she didn’t even blink in their direction. Ilya stood just behind her, looking down at the young elf with a frown on her face.

Arkk shook his head. He wasn’t quite sure why he decided to do this. Mostly to get his mind off the inquisitors and their search. That was a task he could have accomplished doing just about anything else.

Reaching the large door of the manor attached to the main stables, Arkk lifted the large knocker and tapped it down three times.

The man who answered wore a flat cap and brown vest and had a scraggly graying beard. As soon as he stepped into the sun, he narrowed his eyes into thin squints as he looked from Arkk to the others with him.

Arkk quickly explained that he had heard that there might be horses for sale. It didn’t take long to be led out into the stables where a much younger man had a horse’s leg up on a small bench. The farrier was scraping and polishing the horse’s hoof, readying it for a fresh horseshoe. Yavin and Hale both walked a little slower as they moved past.

“I’ve only got one I’m willing to part with at the moment,” the old man said. He let out a loud whistle at the entrance to the pasture. Rather than call the horses, the whistle had one of the stablehands rushing over. After a few words between them, the old man turned back to Arkk. “She’s getting on in age—had ’er since I was a boy—but still has some years left in ’er.”

Arkk looked at the man a second time. If the horse had been around since he was young, that must have been an old horse indeed. “We don’t plan on working her hard. If she can haul a small cart between burgs now and again, that’ll be enough for us.”

The old man bobbed his head up and down in acknowledgment, clasping his hands behind his slightly bowed back. “Lucky you. Some of the boys earlier were thinking about taking her.”

“What changed their minds?”

“Me. Said they were heading into the Cursed Forest.”

Arkk stilled, practically feeling the awkward atmosphere behind him. A quick glance through his Keeper vision showed John and Ilya throwing each other a look. Neither of the two elves reacted. Hale opened her mouth only to be hushed by John.

“Once I ’eard that,” the old man continued, ignorant of the commotion behind him, “I told them all to get lost. They want to get themselves cursed, fool’s on them. Don’t want the poor horses involved.”

“Huh. What… uh… could they be doing in the Cursed Forest?”

“You heard of it?”

“I grew up not far from Smilesville.”

“Then I ’ope you’re smart enough to avoid it. A bunch of church-types from the city convinced a bunch of idiots to go running around inside for a few days. Mostly foreign types. Not locals. Paying well but not well enough if the boys never ’ave a chance to spend it.”

“Huh,” Arkk said again, this time in genuine curiosity rather than an awkward attempt at finding something to say. Nobody in Langleey Village thought much about the Cursed Forest. There were rumors that people who entered would be cursed but most didn’t put much stock in them. He and Ilya had ventured in, a short distance, in their youth and got nothing more than a stern talking-to over it. Abbess Keena had hardly blinked when he mentioned traveling through it… at least until he brought over Vezta.

It made him wonder what kind of superstitions and rumors surrounded the place in the other nearby burgs. Not enough to ask, however. If this guy didn’t want to sell to people involved with the Cursed Forest, he didn’t want to talk about it. That increased the chance that he—or maybe Hale—would let something slip.

Luckily, the stablehand who had run off earlier was on his way back, bringing with him a tall black horse with white stockings up to its knees. Even with some graying hairs, she was still a beautiful horse. Muscular and sturdy. Quite docile as well, not at all fighting the stablehand as he led it over to the stables.

“Clover,” the old man said. “A good horse. Calm and eager to work. Too old to work in the quarry now but should suit your needs.”

Arkk nodded, walking up to the horse from her side. “Hello, Clover,” he said softly. He held out his hand, letting the horse smell him. He gave it a few moments before rubbing the sole white streak from her nose up to the top of her head. Glancing back to John and Yavin, Arkk gave them a small nod of his head as he went over to haggle with the old man.

Yavin and Hale practically rushed up to the horse. Nyala didn’t move, leading to Ilya leaning down to her. “Not interested in horses?”

“No.”

“Don’t even want to try petting it?”

“No.”

Ilya pressed her lips together and shot Arkk a look. He could only give her a shrug before he had to focus on the business.

The old man wanted a few too many silver in Arkk’s opinion. With the size of Al-Mir’s treasury, he didn’t mind but still commented. He probably would have laughed and walked away if he heard the price a few months ago. Now, he just pulled out a pair of gold coins. “If you throw in a proper harness and fresh shoes.”

No longer in direct sun, it was obvious when the old man narrowed his eyes at the coins. He took one, examining it closely. Arkk was well used to the suspicion by now. Hardly anyone walked around with gold coins. Everyone had to test them in their own ways, whether that was biting into them or tossing them into some alchemical potion.

The old man didn’t do more than stare, however. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“I’m Arkk, leader of Company Al-Mir. A free company that does work all over the Duchy. I was born in Langleey Village, however.”

“Al-Mir…” the old man grumbled rolling one of the coins between his fingers. “Sounds familiar.”

“Really?” Arkk stood a little straighter. “Well, that’s great news. We’ve been fairly unknown for a while now but I’ve been taking on some high-profile jobs to try to get our name out there. Was it Silver City? Hope’s Rest?” It felt like those were a bit too recent for word to have spread so far so quickly but then again, they were large jobs. Silver City’s gorgon problem was the highest-value job for months and while he hadn’t turned in Savren, the Hope incident wasn’t far behind.

Rather than answer him, however, the old man just hummed and then clenched his fist around the gold coin. “Well, if this is good, I suppose we can part with her old harness. It’s in fairly good condition.”

“And the shoes?”

“I’ll have Harry take care of those after Goldy,” he said, nodding back down the stables where Arkk had spotted the farrier earlier.

“Excellent. We’ll be back later then.”

The prisoner bond between Arkk and Nyala broke.

It was not a subtle thing.

Walking down Stone Hearth’s market, casually browsing for anything that caught his eye while making his way toward the local garrison, Arkk felt relatively at ease. The inquisitors hadn’t put his name or depiction out for the whole town to see. Nobody cared that he was walking around in the open. Quickly peeking in on Vezta showed nothing alarming either.

All-in-all, visiting the town was a distraction most welcome.

Until the warning bells hammered in the back of his mind. He knew the prisoner bond broke immediately. It was just instinctual. The reason for the breakage was less clear.

With the jolt, Arkk spun around. He made it just in time to see the glint of metal disappear into the sleeve of Nyala’s tunic. Hale and Yavin were off to one side, looking at a vendor’s selection of bolts of cloth. John had his arms crossed, watching the two of them. Ilya was just a step behind Arkk, a step ahead of Nyala.

The young elf didn’t make eye contact with Arkk. She didn’t have any air of defiance anymore. In fact, staring at her, Arkk thought she looked rather nervous all of a sudden.

“Is something wrong?” Ilya asked, noting the way Arkk spun around. She immediately started looking around, though her gaze remained on the crowd and not on the short elf just to her side.

Looking around, Arkk tried to piece together what had just happened. It didn’t take long. The immediate warning combined with the glimmer of light gave him more than enough information to guess that Nyala had just nabbed a knife as they passed by a butcher’s stall. The butcher was distracted with wrapping up a cut of meat in a bit of brown parchment.

Normally, such a butcher would have a large knife or hatchet to chop up his wares for those needing some but Arkk didn’t see any blades on his counter.

The power dynamic changed when she picked up and concealed the weapon. Thus the bond had broken. Probably. He would have to ask Vezta to be certain but, based on what she said earlier, that made the most sense in Arkk’s mind.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Arkk said, glancing back at John. “Mind checking out the cloth they’re looking at? See if any of it looks like something our tailor can use.”

Ilya gave him a flat look that said she knew there was more going on here. She even gave a brief glance to Nyala, who was still avoiding both their gazes. “Sure,” she said after a moment.

As she wandered off, Arkk knelt down. “Nyala,” Arkk said, pulling out his own dagger. “Tell you what. Why don’t we trade?”

The young elf’s eyes went wide as they locked onto Arkk’s blade. The actual blade wasn’t out, sheathed in leather, and the hilt was facing her. That was still enough to make her hands shake. Arkk internally grimaced, wondering if she was taking it as a threat, but outwardly kept his stern look.

“You can keep it,” Arkk said. “If you promise not to try to use it on anyone at the fortress.” He paused, thought, then added, “Without their permission, anyway. Maybe you can find someone to teach you to actually use it. Maybe me, if I can find the time. Or, I’m sure Ilya would be happy to teach you to use a bow.

“Or you can leave. I don’t need you at the fortress. I don’t want a prisoner or someone who feels like they’re a prisoner. I don’t want a slave either. You can walk away. Ilya might be upset but if you don’t want to be there, she can’t really complain. You can even keep the dagger when you walk away. But you can’t keep that knife you stole.”

Nyala’s eyes snapped up to Arkk. “I… can leave?”

“Whenever you want. I’ll even have the cook send you off with a load of food and that gold coin you got should take you far if you’re careful with it.”

“I can go home?”

Arkk shifted. “The place you came from was effectively destroyed. I placed a rather large bounty on the heads of any slavers in the area of Marrowlands Fen but I haven’t heard anything back yet.” Pausing, Arkk tilted his head as he considered. “Actually, has Ilya asked you about your experience yet? Anything you can remember, any locations, landmarks, or even names and appearances of people who took you might help us find more of your people.”

A look of strange confusion came over Nyala’s face. Arkk thought she was merely thinking back, trying to remember things she likely didn’t want to remember. However, she frowned and said, “Marrowlands Fen?”

“Did your people have a different name for it? The large floating reed island was deserted except for a number of bodies when Ilya found it.”

The look of confusion on Nyala’s face didn’t disappear. In fact, Arkk was pretty sure he only made it worse. She even mouthed ‘floating?’ to herself.

“You… aren’t from there, are you?” Arkk said slowly, feeling a spike in tension deep within his chest as he considered the ramifications of that. “Please don’t tell me that Ilya kidnapped you.”

If Ilya had attacked some innocent human who had taken in two elves and then dragged them all the way out here…

No. Both elves, upon arriving at Smilesville, had been covered in bruises and welts. Yavin’s ears had been clipped and Nyala still bore scars around her neck from, Arkk presumed, chains. Ilya might have been capable of misunderstanding a situation and attacked the wrong person, but she wouldn’t have allowed them to come to such harm on the way back. They must have been slaves at one point in time.

Nyala wasn’t answering him. If she was the forthcoming sort, that might have worried him. As it was, he figured she was trying to figure out if she could trust him. However, the butcher was now looking around for his knife. Arkk held out his hand, shooting a pointed look at the butcher’s knife peeking out from her sleeve.

With little more than a small huff, she handed it over. The prisoner bond did not settle back into place, however. Instead, as she snatched the still-offered dagger from Arkk’s other hand, a different, more familiar bond linked them together. The minion bond.

Deciding to think over that later, he quickly handed over the knife to the butcher, claiming that he had dropped it, then rounded up Ilya and the others. Taking them away from the crowded areas of Stone Hearth Burg, Arkk found a quiet corner and rounded on them all with a frown.

“You,” Arkk started, pointing a finger at Yavin, only for the young elf boy to flinch and take up cover behind Hale. Sighing, Arkk closed his eyes. “Sorry. Yavin,” he said, voice soft and gentle. “Did you live on a floating island made from reeds?”

“What is this about?” Ilya asked, crossing her arms as she leaned her weight back on one heel.

“Just making sure we haven’t had any severe communication issues as a result of… everything,” Arkk said with a frown. He shook his head. It might have been prudent to pay a little more attention to the goings on of his fortress. Talking with the prisoners, even if they weren’t really prisoners, should have been high on his list.

“Is that a knife?” Ilya hissed, stepping toward Nyala. The younger elf quickly slammed the blade back into its sheath and tried to hide it behind her back. “Where—”

Arkk stopped Ilya with a hand on her shoulder. He gave a small shake of his head then knelt down and focused on Yavin just as he had with Nyala a few moments ago.

“Yavin, you might not want to think about it, but I need you to answer my questions. Okay? There isn’t a wrong answer and nothing bad will happen no matter what you say. Understand?”

The young boy looked around, first seeking help from Nyala—who was too focused on her new dagger to return his gaze—then to Hale. The latter, giving him a reassuring smile, made him nod his head.

“Okay. You were taken from your home, right? You didn’t want to go to that human’s house where Ilya found you?”

Nonverbally, Yavin again nodded his head.

“Before that, where did you live? Floating islands?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice small. “Eures.”

“Eures. The name of the floating island?”

“Yes.”

Arkk offered the boy a smile. “Thank you,” he said, then turned to Nyala. “You didn’t live on Eures?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wait,” Ilya said, looking paler than normal. “You didn’t live with that old human… He beat you. I saw…”

Nyala narrowed her eyes and then slowly shook her head. “They took me while I was gathering berries outside…” Her eyes widened and she clamped her jaw shut. “We’re not supposed to talk about Hallow Hill.”

“Hallow Hill. An elf community?” Arkk asked. Nyala clamped her jaw once again, refusing to speak further. Instead, Arkk asked, “When did they take you? Around the same time as Yavin?”

Nyala shook her head. “I was with the Master for a full month before he showed up.”

From the corner of his eye, Arkk watched Yavin flinch, this time moving to position Hale between him and Nyala.

“You aren’t siblings?”

“I thought the Master was replacing me… until I overheard him wanting us to have ‘beautiful elf babies’ that he could raise as his own. Fresh and unspoiled.”

Arkk wrinkled his nose as he glanced between the two elves. Their similar looks were… what, chosen so that their children would have similar-looking kids? He had thought they were siblings but that…

John started grinding his teeth together while Ilya let out a clipped gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. “He didn’t… You didn’t…”

Nyala’s fingers curled tighter around her dagger. Yavin didn’t move. Arkk wasn’t sure that either was an indication of a response. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Was Hallow Hill attacked when you were taken?” Arkk asked, trying to focus on what he could do, not what had been done. “Are there still people there? Your family?”

Nyala looked at him with a heavy glare. “I’m not about to tell a human about it,” she said with a curled lip.

Arkk slowly stood, nodding his head. “If you were to leave right now, turn and walk away, would you be able to find your way home?”

Nyala’s glare faded as a look of uncertainty came over her. Her eyes darted around the outskirts of the market as if she was trying to figure out exactly where her home might be relative to where she was now. After a moment, she hung her head, staring at her feet.

Arkk let out a sigh. He couldn’t be sure that she didn’t know—she might just be trying to fool him—but he felt it was likely. After having been dragged across the Duchy by Ilya and then taken however far away from her home by slavers, probably without seeing where she was going, it wouldn’t be a surprise to find out that she had no idea where she was in the slightest.

Still, that was a lead on other elf communities. Perhaps somewhere that would take in both Nyala and Yavin. Maybe people who would be interested in helping out with a ritual—or even just tailoring—if it meant helping out Ilya’s mother. Perhaps one of the local garrisons would have information on Hallow Hill. Failing that, maybe someone back in Cliff could point him in the right direction.

Until then… “Let’s get back to the fortress for now.”

 

 

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.”