Chapter 12

Golloron, Elder of the Stronghold of Eredain, defender of the Elven Realms, Grandmaster of the House of Stars, and master of magical abilities that most mortals could barely comprehend, much less match, watched with incredible frustration as the illusion guarding his sanctum wavered and vanished once more.  The room suddenly appeared larger than it would from the outside, opulently furnished with furs and silk hangings, with trophies of various powerful creatures he’d defeated hanging on the wall.  The glowing gem that linked the room to the prison he’d buried deep beneath the earth below the city – where monsters he either couldn’t or hadn’t wanted to kill were kept until he found need of them, the way he had with the apanog those foolish Travelers had slain – pulsed a gentle, blue glow that lit the room. 

If practically any elf in the Realms had walked in at that moment, they’d have been astounded and, in all likelihood, highly suspicious of the Elder.  Unlike most elven Elders, who surrounded themselves with the trappings of wealth and power that came with their positions, Golloron always made a point of living sparsely, even meanly.  He ate what barracks soldiers in the House of Blades ate; he slept on a bed of woven grass mats and furs; he spent his days in meditation with the Tree-heart and laboring for the benefit of Eredain.

At least, that’s what any elf in Eredain would say if they were questioned about their Elder, mostly because anyone who saw through the cloak with which he shrouded his true self had their memories of those things erased and new memories of Golloron’s kindness and humility implanted instead.  It was a laborious effort, even for a Mindbender as powerful and talented as Golloron, but it was utterly worth the exertion, patience, and time it took to maintain that fiction.  The power it brought Golloron in return was enormous.

Like all elven Elders, Golloron was Bonded to his city’s Tree-Heart and drew power from that bonding.  The amount of power he could draw was linked not only to the number of citizens he had in the city but also their state of mind and general well-being.  Eredain was the smallest of the elven cities, though, and as such it provided Golloron with much less power than a larger city like Cyva Alari or Elren Aethel.  That was deliberate, of course – Golloron was inherently so powerful that allowing him to bond with the Heart of a city as large and populous as Cyva Alari would have made him a legitimate threat to the royal family – but it had left Golloron in a position where he needed to eke every ounce of energy he could from his city’s inhabitants.

It was well established that content, happy citizens provided more energy to the Tree-heart than discontent ones, which made sense.  Elves that were unhappy with their lives in the city wouldn’t feel as connected to it, and the amount of power an individual gave to the Tree-heart was subtly linked to how much they wanted to give.  What the other Elders didn’t realize was that citizens who were happy with their lives but constantly afraid those lives would be taken from them gave even more power to the Heart, especially if they saw their Elder as their champion against the Darkness.  They were almost eager to donate their personal energy to the city, even though they weren’t aware they were doing so.

Golloron had subtly and consistently fostered that belief in his people for the past century or two.  He’d allowed the Blight to constantly encroach on the forests, but when it grew too strong, he somehow miraculously Reclaimed those lands and drove out the Blight – something he could frankly do at any time, albeit at a significant energy cost.  He allowed the city’s defenses to weaken gradually until the Shadowborn penetrated the walls, then he obliterated them in a storm of fury and fire and saved his people – before allowing the cycle to start all over again.  It was a constant challenge to maintain the perfect balance that would keep his followers dependent on him without falling to despair and robbing him of precious energy, but he’d never faltered in his efforts…at least, not until that Traveler had appeared and began ruining everything.

Aranos upset the balance.  By Reclaiming Haerobel, he’d inspired hope in the elves and encouraged them to start questioning why King Andrathath and Queen Sillavana hadn’t done the same long ago.  By Redeeming the Tree-Heart of Eredain, he’d removed Golloron’s ability to weaken the city’s defenses or allow the Blight to encroach.  By Redeeming Antas, he’d driven the powers of Darkness to step up their assaults on the Lightborn once more, and now much of Golloron’s power was focused on holding out the more powerful creatures that might otherwise pierce the city’s wards and rampage in their forests.  The people were happier, unafraid – and they had a new champion of the Light, one who was certainly not Golloron. 

And, of course, Aranos was to blame for the predicament in which Golloron currently found himself.  When the Elder had faced the Sorcerer in the Dreamscape, Aranos had proven far more powerful than Golloron would have expected.  He’d obviously undergone a racial evolution just as Golloron had, and it looked as if he’d mastered multiple Enhanced aspects – something that Sorcerers found much simpler than Wizards, according to Golloron’s readings.  He’d been strong enough, in fact, that Golloron had made a desperate and admittedly foolish decision to assure himself the Traveler was defeated; he’d unlocked his Destruction Domain once more.

Destruction was a powerful force, but it was the most difficult Primal Domain to control.  Golloron had mastered his Domain long ago and held it tightly in check, which was more necessary than normal when dealing with Destruction.  Like the other Primal aspects, once unlocked, Destruction radiated from Golloron constantly, forming a Domain filled with his power.  That was useful, since within that Domain, Golloron could create destructive magic with nothing more than a thought; Spells were no longer necessary or even possible when dealing with Primal energy.  However, that meant that everything around Golloron would be constantly decaying, eroding, or – as in the case of his carefully crafted illusion – unraveling, even without his conscious effort.  It happened relatively slowly, a testament to his will and Mana Control, but it happened nonetheless.

By using his Domain to defeat the Traveler, even though it was in the Realm of Dreams, Golloron had unchained it and allowed that energy free rein once more.  He’d spent the last week or so in constant meditation, trying to regain control of his unleashed power, and he’d only been partially successful so far.  Until he did, he had to keep himself cut off from the rest of the city – if he visited a noble House and it began to fall apart around him, there would be talk, and Golloron wasn’t sure he could quell rumors like that right now, thanks to the other unintended side effect of unleashing his Domain.

Destruction was the bane of existence, the antithesis of creation.  It unmade matter, unraveled spellforms, and broke all bindings.  That included the Bond that tied Golloron to the Tree-heart, which was growing gradually weaker as his Destruction Domain worked to sever it.  Left unchecked, he would eventually find himself torn asunder from the Heart, and he wasn’t totally sure if it would welcome his Bonding with it again.  The Hearts weren’t aware, per se, but they weren’t simple objects, either.  His had a vague and tenuous consciousness, and that consciousness might very well know that he’d spent centuries abusing it.  The Heart couldn’t sever the Bond on its own, but it could reject the formation of a new one. 

That meant that, so far, Golloron hadn’t been able to strike at the upstart House Evenshade, not even through the Heart’s agency or something as simple as a messaging Spell.  Every time he touched the Heart, he subjected his Bond to the power of his Domain.  Even something as mundane as a basic Spell would be touched by his power right now, meaning it could unravel randomly, and he wouldn’t be able to accurately predict its effects.

Part of him wanted to embrace the Domain, as he’d done briefly over a century ago.  Destruction was powerful, and if he delved fully into the aspect, he could probably gain as much power as the Tree-heart gave him.  He could unmake the entire city, obliterate anyone who stood against him, even challenge the King and Queen for rulership of the Elven Realms.  With the power of Destruction, he could unmake the Dark Gods themselves – or perhaps bring a final death to that bothersome fly of a Traveler…

Golloron reined in his thoughts with an effort of will.  That was the danger of Destruction, or of any Domain, truly.  The more it was used, the more it came to dominate the caster’s thinking and mold their personality until they were nothing but a tool of the Domain, an agent of its power.  It would be simple to give into Destruction, but doing so would turn him into an enemy of the Light as great as any the Elven Realms had faced since the Feast of Virnal.  Golloron wasn’t a paragon of virtue, but while he had been forced to make deals with the Shadow, he’d never embraced it.  He wasn’t about to start now.

He carefully rebuilt his illusion, linking it to his specific mental patterns and tying it off so it would remain while he meditated.  He still had work to do, damage to repair, and control to regain.  Once he was again master of his powers…

Then, the Traveler Aranos would learn what being Golloron’s enemy truly meant.

The Merchants’ Guild, as Marie had warned, wasn’t a particularly large or imposing building.  It was simply but sturdily built of gray stone, with large, barred windows and a single, steel door.  When Aranos walked inside with Geltheriel and Rhys in tow, he found himself in a simple antechamber that looked much like a basic store, including the long, low counter running the length of the room and separating it in half.  His side of the room was bustling with finely dressed men and women, all of whom seemed to be wearing unhappy or even angry expressions.  A single, older man in a pea-green doublet and black hose stood on the other side of the counter, flanked by two hard-eyed Warriors in heavy armor and looking harried and somewhat annoyed as he made notations on a stack of papers in front of him.

“Are you here to complain that your deliveries are late, as well?” the man spoke loudly over the low but persistent grumbling that seemed to fill the room, not even glancing up at Aranos.  “I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve told everyone; the Trade Roads are blocked, and we have no idea when they’ll reopen.  You have the Guild’s sincerest apologies.  Feel free to wait with these others to lodge a complaint – not that it’ll help matters in the slightest.”

Aranos walked around the disgruntled merchants and approached the counter, ignoring the unfriendly looks being shot his direction and the way the two guards’ hands tightened on their weapons.  “I’m not here about a delivery, no.  I’m actually looking to help with that very problem.”

“You want a Quest?” the man grunted, his expression annoyed, still not bothering to favor Aranos with a single glance.  “Go see the Adventurers’ Guild.  We don’t do Quests, here.  Come back when you need a trade license, want to open a shop for yourself, or have money to invest in a caravan – once we’re able to send them out, that is.”

“Don’t bother with the insurance,” a voice muttered behind Aranos.  “They don’t pay out even when the caravan is indefinitely delayed and you’re losing coins by the day.  Waste of damn money, and maybe a bit of a scam, if you ask me.”

“I’ve told you, Darius, insurance pays out if your caravan is lost or destroyed,” the man behind the counter snapped.  “Not when it’s stuck in Avendale because anything that moves along the southern Trade Road gets eaten by tigroons.  Now, if your caravan had been one of the ones destroyed, you’d be entitled to compensation.”

“Which is why they’re not letting any caravans move,” another voice sighed tiredly.  “Every one that’s destroyed costs the Guild money.  Letting them sit in Northmoor and Avendale only costs us.”

“Those are also coins out of the Guild’s pockets, as you know, Eleanor,” the Guild member said coldly.  “A loss of profits for you is a loss of income for us.  If we let the caravan make the attempt, you’d lose your cargoes, the Guild would be out that money, and no investor would back another caravan through us until this was fully resolved.  You’d have gold, but nothing to buy with it and no way to make more.  When it runs out, then what?”

“Master Merchant Warren is right,” a third voice spoke, this one deeper and more powerful than the others.  “He’s an ass, but he’s right.  If those caravans move, they’ll be destroyed.  We’ll get our insurance payouts, but the Guild’s backers will pull out of future caravans and we’ll have to fund the next one ourselves, without insurance.  None of us want that.”

“I don’t need a Quest,” Aranos spoke up loudly, breaking into the conversation.  “I’ve already got it; at least, I’ve got one Quest, and my friends are working on the other.  I’m hunting tigroons for you to try and clear the south road.”

The merchant’s eyes widened as a series of mutters spread across the room, some hopeful, others disbelieving.  “Guildmaster Ryder found someone to take our Quests?”  The man straightened, smoothed out his already impeccable doublet, and replaced his scowl with an obviously false smile as he raised his voice to the room.  “Everyone, quiet down!  This party has taken the Quest to clear the south road!  Shut up so they can speak!”  As the muttering subsided, the man turned back to Aranos and inclined his head politely.  “Forgive me, sir.  What can I do to assist you?”

“I just need to know where the caravans are being attacked,” the Sorcerer replied, refraining from rolling his eyes at the man’s suddenly obsequious nature.

“Along the south road, of course,” a voice called sarcastically.  “If you can’t even figure that out…”

“That doesn’t help much, does it?” Aranos asked mildly.  “I mean, I suppose I could just wander the Trade Road and hope to get attacked, but the creatures might not be interested in a small, well-armed party.  I could travel slowly and figure out where the ambushes happened, but that’ll take time.  If I know exactly where to start looking, I can Track the tigroons back from there and maybe get all of them at once.”

“He’s got the right of it, and he put you in your place, Bertram,” the deep-voiced man laughed.  “It sounds like he knows what he’s doing.  Everyone just shut up and let him do his job, okay?”

“My thanks, Merchant Porter,” the old man who was apparently Master Merchant Warren sighed, reaching under the table and pulling out a long, rolled tube of parchment.  He spread it out on the counter before him, covering his stacks of papers and revealing a detailed map of Stoneleague and the nearest cities, including the High Road heading south and Trade Roads leading both south and east.  Aranos examined it and pulled up his world map, watching as it updated with this new information.

“All of the attacks have occurred within a half-day of each other, about a day’s travel south of the city by caravan,” Warren explained, taking out a string and measuring distances on the map.  “That’s inside the Blightlands, well past the area the King regularly patrols.  Because of that, we assumed that a pair of tigroons had established a new range in the area and sent out a company of mercenaries to either deal with them or at least drive them deeper into the Darkwood.” 

“You should have sent better mercenaries, then,” a voice shouted.  “Or did the Guild skimp and send out a novice adventuring party, hoping for the best?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Warren snapped back, shaking his head grimly.  “We sent the best we could find and paid out the nose to do it.  Out of thirty well-armed and trained mercenaries, many with their Advanced Classes, only four returned.  The rest were slaughtered when instead of two of the beasts, as we’d normally expect, they were attacked by a full half-dozen.  That’s when we closed the roads and sent messages for all caravans to be halted until King Hugin could send a full battalion of soldiers to deal with the creatures.”  He looked up at Aranos with a grimace.  “To be honest, we sent the Quest to the Adventurers’ Guild as a formality.  We didn’t expect anyone to take it, and Guildmaster Ryder advised us not to hold our breath.  Do you – do you think you can actually deal with six tigroons?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to try,” Aranos shrugged as he took a snapshot of the map and checked to see that his world map had been updated with the new information.  “Yesterday, we killed the dragonelle that destroyed those villages a couple weeks back.  Even if we can’t kill all six of the tigroons at once, I’ll bet we can take out a couple of them before we have to retreat.  If we can do that three times…”

“Well, I wish you nothing but luck,” Warren sighed.  “Now, if there’s nothing else, I really do need to get back to taking all of these people’s complaints and insurance claims so the Guild can officially reject them.”

As they walked toward the Lower Gate, Rhys let out a low laugh, shaking his head.  “That’s actually somewhat comforting,” the Druid observed wryly.

“What?” Aranos asked curiously.

“That no matter where you go, merchants are always the same.  Even those in – our home city are so focused on gold that they cast aside reason and common sense.  I believe some of those we just listened to were advocating that the Guild allow the caravans to travel so they could be destroyed, and their loss payments could be collected, despite the fact that without their goods, they aren’t technically merchants any longer.  A short-sighted lust for wealth seems to be a defining characteristic of merchants everywhere.”

Geltheriel shook her head in disagreement.  “Those we were seeing were the foolish and desperate, Reece,” she countered.  “The most successful merchants are also the ones who plan for the long term and have multiple ventures active at once.  They are the ones currently planning how to turn this setback to their advantage, not complaining about their misfortunes.  They’re likely analyzing what will become dear quickly and buying as much of it as they can, knowing that prices will rise soon, and they’ll reap the benefits of others’ misfortune.”

Rhys looked at the woman curiously.  “You sound to have had far more dealings with merchants than your Base Class would merit.”

“You forget, I was being raised to replace my mother as Matriarch,” Geltheriel smiled.  “That included many lessons on economics and successfully running a merchant enterprise, for obvious reasons.  I hated those lessons, but I did absorb them.”

“That’s a good point,” Aranos nodded.  “So, if we wanted to bring more trade to our new city, what do you suggest?”

“Going back to that Guild when we complete this Quest and speaking to them about it,” Geltheriel shrugged.  “What you are seeking is the merchant equivalent of a younger noble House; you want one that is established enough to be able to bring most of what they need with them, but not so established that they have no good reason to relocate.  Offer them land, warehouses, and a shop near the central square in return for their paying their taxes and making the city their new headquarters.  You’ll get far more trade from someone like that than from multiple smaller merchants, and in truth they’ll be able to make arrangements using their existing contacts that you might never consider.”

Aranos blinked; that made perfect sense and honestly seemed a bit obvious, although he could see a glaring concern.  “That’s putting a lot of trust in the Guild, isn’t it?  I mean, these are people who make their living by outbargaining others, after all.”

“Which is why you should complete the Quest, first, to gain reputation with them.  If you solve this problem for them, they will be far more disposed to treat with you in good faith.  As well, if you’ve just saved dozens of merchants from ruin, those might not take it well if the Guild tries to cheat you.  Then, the next time there’s a problem, you might not step in to help.”

Aranos pondered her words as they passed through the gate.  She was right; it would be a lot simpler to approach the Guild than to try and build his own trading concern from scratch, which was what he had been thinking of doing.  He’d need decent reputation with them, though, or they’d simply try to take advantage of him, either finding a way to bilk him of whatever profit he might have made or charging him a finder’s fee and giving him a worthless merchant in return.  That meant completing this Quest, and that meant they’d better get moving.

Thanks to his Zone of Speed Spell and Leadership bonuses, the party reached the closest ambush site in just a few hours rather than taking most of a day.  Aranos could see why this was called the Darkwoods; the forest south of Stoneleague was filled with towering evergreens whose branches interwove to form a thick green barrier overhead.  In the Blightlands, those trees still towered above, but their needles were flatter and a green so dark it was almost black.  While the Claimed woodlands were well shaded, the road beneath the Darkwoods lay in such heavy shadow that Aranos’ Night Vision kept trying to kick in. 

Silma ranged out in front of them, scouting out potential dangers and giving them warning of ambushes.  The fenrin had spent the night in the forest but hadn’t really found anything entertaining to hunt; the humans kept this part of their territory relatively free of large, dangerous predators.  Silma was thus more than happy to join the elves on a real hunt for dangerous prey, and she hadn’t even minded being woken from a nap and racing to join them.

This trip, Aranos wasn’t worried about stealing XP from the party, so the four of them dealt with the occasional packs of wolf-like amaroks, reptilian kondinyas, and spidery anisi as quickly and effectively as possible.  Aranos flushed the creatures out with a Ravaging Burst or Energy Barrage, depending on how many creatures there were and how spread out they were.  Either of these attacks generally wiped out the majority of any amarok packs they encountered, leaving only badly wounded remnants for Geltheriel and Silma to deal with, but the kondinyas and anisi were hardy enough to survive his initial assault and usually charged forward at that point.  Geltheriel and Silma met their rush with steel and fang.  Aranos provided ranged support and kept the attackers from flanking the Warriors using his crowd control Spells, while Rhys healed the two frontline fighters and added occasional elemental damage.  It was a simple but effective formation, and against such low-level creatures, it was devastatingly effective.

As they neared the closest attack site, Aranos’ nose picked up the scent of old, dried blood strongly.  The smell grew stronger, leading the party off the Trade Road and into a large clearing that someone had created long ago with axes and fire.  The clearing was ringed with a high wall of stone that was far enough inside the trees to make it difficult for an arboreal attacker to leap down inside it and was sealed with a pair of iron-banded, wooden gates that hung open silently.  Someone had gone to a fair amount of trouble to build a fortification here, which meant this area was obviously designed for caravans to camp and defend themselves from the denizens of the Blightlands.

At first, Aranos was confused why anyone would spend the night in the Blightlands.  After all, natives of Ka gained Corruption Points simply for spending time in this region – in this case, a point of Corruption every day, which was much less than they would have gotten on the High Road.  Geltheriel and Rhys were mostly immune thanks to the auras that Aranos and Silma gave off, but any other native would be weakened just by spending time in this place.  That would make the fact that night in the Blightlands was far deadlier than the daylight hours were even more dangerous.

After a moment of consideration, though, he thought he understood.  The Blightlands certainly were deadlier after dark, but they would be far more dangerous to a caravan on the move than to one fortified and manning those defenses.  Gaining Corruption Points would suck, but that could be offset by whoever sponsored the caravan making it a Quest, since completing Quests reduced Corruption.  It was probably the only way the humans could move their goods along these roads at all, but Aranos wondered how many caravans were lost when something truly unexpected hit them at night.  Enough that they all have to have insurance, at least, he realized.

The inside of the fortified clearing was a charnel house, at least to his heightened senses.  No bodies remained – those had doubtless been dragged off and devoured by the creatures of the Blightlands – but the shredded remains of the camp were obvious.  Three battered, ruined, covered wagons lay broken, surrounding the center of the enclosure, with the cold ashes of a burned-out firepit in the very middle.  The wagons were torn open, their contents scattered everywhere and ruined.  Broken weapons, bits of torn armor, and splatters of dried blood littered the ground.

Aranos shook his head in disgust; his Tracking Skill showed him clearly that the caravan attack had been a slaughter.  Six large creatures had leaped the outer wall, almost in unison, and landed in the midst of the encampment.  A pitched battle raged throughout the camp, but in the end, every human and animal within was slain – without one of the attackers falling to the humans.  The creatures had even chased down any who fled and torn them apart, as if they didn’t want any witnesses to the savage act.

More humans had come to the site afterward, probably a day or so later from how the tracks had weathered, moving among the bodies and through the wreckage.  They’d been cautious and moved stealthily, but he could tell that there had been four of them and that they’d left the camp more heavily laden than they’d entered; they’d probably collected anything that was salvageable.  When they left, they’d headed back toward the city to the north, meaning they were likely a scouting party searching for the missing caravan. 

Although if that were the case, why would people be complaining about their lost cargo, he realized.  Maybe someone else came here and looted this place – but how would they have known to come for it the next day?   That seemed like something he might mention to the Merchants’ Guild when he went back to the city.  Maybe the tigroons weren’t here by accident after all.

His attention turned to the prints of the caravan’s attackers.  The paws of the beasts were decidedly feline in shape, although larger by far than a tiger’s or lion’s.  Each creature seemed to be about 18 to 20 feet long and exceptionally heavy, judging by how deeply their paws sank into the earth.  Unlike the dragonelle, though, these creatures’ armor obviously wasn’t impregnable; Aranos saw and smelled the rich, dark blood of the tigroons where it had seeped into the ground in places. 

What do you make of this, Oathbinder? Geltheriel’s voice spoke silently in his head.  I can see that the rawondos sprang into the camp and slaughtered the humans, but from where they came or how they left, I can find no trace.

The plants here are hostile and unhelpful, Rhys commented just as silently; Aranos had decided to give the Furor a communication ring now that the rest of the party wasn’t present.  Even if Golloron could somehow reestablish contact with Rhys at this distance, Geltheriel and Silma were both immune to mental influence and Aranos was extremely well protected thanks to his Fortification Skill – and to the Shield Mind Spell he was keeping active on himself, just in case.  I could perhaps compel them to tell me where the creatures passed, but their information would be somewhat suspect.

It’s fine; I’ve got their Scent, Aranos replied.  There were six of them, and they attacked in unison.  It looks like the caravan didn’t stand much of a chance; the things even hunted down any of them who tried to escape.  He shook his head before pausing as her words really sank in.  Wait, what did you call them, Geltheriel?

Rawondos, she repeated.  As you have undoubtedly guessed – or should have, had you not already – these creatures are known to the People.  They are truly formidable opponents, Oathbinder.  Much of their hide is covered with bony armor that blends in with their surroundings, and they heal rapidly from even serious wounds.  They are exceptionally quick and agile, and they radiate an aura of bloodlust that drives their prey to attack heedlessly rather than flee as they might otherwise.

Aranos frowned.  Are they usually pack hunters?  If they’re that powerful, and as large as they are, they’d need to hunt some seriously huge prey to sustain a group of them.

One observes they could hunt constantly for smaller prey, Rhys pointed out.  Should they not be selective in what they consume, they could doubtless feed well on the various lesser predators that emerge come nightfall.

A pack of this size would likely strip the area of most predators in short order, Furor, Geltheriel corrected.  It is as my Oathbinder suggested; rawondos are not pack hunters.  They come together in pairs only for their mating season, and during this time they will claim an area and drive out all else – this is what the merchant in Stoneleague was attempting to say they believed had happened – but this lasts only until the cubs are born, and then the male leaves the female to raise them alone.  For six to gather in one place is – rather unusual, to the point where I have never heard of such a thing.

Aranos sighed.  Then we have to assume that something or someone is forcing them to work together, like that apanog was in Eredain.  Could it be one of those?

It is possible, Oathbinder, Geltheriel said a bit helplessly.  I have no knowledge of those creatures, I am afraid, save vague legends of their existence.  That in and of itself, however, suggests that it is very unlikely.

Aranos nodded; Geltheriel’s Beast Lore was much higher than his, so if she didn’t know about a creature, it was probably at least Exceptionally rare.  Granted, the apanog in Eredain had been released by Golloron to harass and slay the Travelers there, but even so, the odds of encountering a second one were incredibly small.  It was more likely that some other, unknown creature was controlling the monsters – but then, why would a creature be attacking the caravans?  His first inclination would be to assume the attacker wanted the goods from the caravans, but that didn’t make sense; from what he could tell, nothing had been looted or dragged off by the tigroons – or rawondos, he guessed – and everything had been gathered by the human party that came later.  As far as he could tell, the creatures had attacked just to kill.

The tigroons had moved swiftly when they left the site of their slaughter, traveling with great, leaping bounds that often covered thirty feet or more through the forest.  Even worse, their paths wove fairly randomly, sometimes diverging, other times crossing and recrossing, occasionally even doubling back and returning the way they’d come for a time, making it a challenge for even him to Track them.  He understood why no one from the city had even bothered to follow this trail; Geltheriel and Rhys had both lost it almost immediately and had to keep picking it up again.  Only he and Silma managed to stay on their path; the fenrin’s keen nose wasn’t so easily fooled, nor was Aranos’ Skill.

This doesn’t make sense to me, Geltheriel, he observed quietly as the trail suddenly branched to the left and right in an almost perfect ‘T’ shape.  From what you’ve said and judging from the size of these things, a rawondo is an apex predator, right?

Indeed, Oathbinder.  Even something like an ursusz would give the cat a wide berth. 

Then why are they trying so hard to cover their tracks?  Is anything really likely to try and hunt them? 

One observes that there are surely greater beasts roaming the Blightlands, Liberator, Rhys sent wryly through the link.  Perhaps these return to their den and do not wish to draw such a predator upon them.

While the Furor is correct, I also admit to being puzzled by this behavior, Oathbinder, Geltheriel admitted.  Predators generally do not go to such lengths to conceal their dens; that is typically the action of a prey animal.  Predators usually clearly mark their trails and territories with their scent, knowing that other predators – even greater ones than they – would usually rather avoid a fight with something dangerous that is not a good source of food.  These are acting almost – nervously, should such a thing be possible for a large predator. 

They followed the erratic trail deeper into the Darkwoods until Silma’s voice spoke in Aranos’ head.  Proceed with caution, pack leader.  Our prey waits for us just ahead.  It seems they’ve anticipated our coming. 

The Sorcerer closed his eyes and concentrated on perceiving what his Companion was.  At once, his senses seemed to expand tremendously, to a point that he almost recoiled and dropped the connection.  It was his first time truly tapping Silma’s senses through their deepened Bond, and he was a bit awed by how the fenrin perceived the world.  It felt like he was crouched deep in a shadowed thicket, but the shadows didn’t hamper his vision in the slightest.  The leaves around him glowed with strange patterns, emitting colors he couldn’t even put a name to, much less describe, and the very air seemed alight with an eldritch glow that bathed everything in a shadowless radiance.  He could hear every tiny movement around him, including the scratching of some subterranean creature digging beneath him and the scraping of an insect’s claws along a nearby branch, but his ears were tuned to the sound of two low, rhythmic pulses that dragged his focus in their direction: a pair of heartbeats, he realized a moment later.  Only his olfactory sense wasn’t utterly overwhelmed; he’d had more practice using that, and while his nose was inundated by the scents of the blighted forest, he had no trouble teasing out a heavier, muskier smell that overlaid all others.

He simply took in the information for several, long moments, allowing his mind to adapt to the extreme stimulus.  So, this is how Silma sees the world, he marveled silently.  It’s – it’s pretty amazing, really.  He finally turned his gaze outward, peering effortlessly through the thick leaves as if they were a gossamer curtain and laying eyes on their quarry. 

The two tigroons were huge, as long and tall as Silma but broader in the chest and more heavily muscled along their shoulders.  Their fur was striped like a tiger’s but was charcoal grey with rust-red bands that blended almost perfectly into the Corrupted landscape around them, and they had what looked like dark grey, matte scales layered across the top of their heads, down their neck, and along their back.  Their heads were large and feline, with two long sabre-like tusks jutting down from the top. 

What interested Aranos more, though, was that the creatures had set themselves up for a nearly perfect ambush of anyone following their trail.  They lay crouched, motionless in the underbrush twenty feet to each side of where the trail passed between two large, dark boles that would pin the party in place and make maneuvering difficult.  Of course, pursuers could simply go around the trees, but that would take them into a thorn-filled thicket on one side or a copse of closely packed saplings on the other.  Doing either would allow the tigroons to leap past the party and pin them up against the stand of vegetation, cutting off any possibility of escape.

Geltheriel…are these things intelligent? he asked his Follower silently. 

They are great cats, Oathbinder, and like all cats they possess considerable cunning, yes.

I’m talking about actual intelligence, Aranos clarified.  Two of them set an ambush for us up ahead, and it’s very specifically designed to trap a party that might be following them.   He quickly outlined how the cats had set themselves up, and he felt Geltheriel’s concern radiating through the mental link.

No, Oathbinder, a rawondo is not normally capable of this sort of planning, she said in a troubled voice.  They will lie in wait for prey, it is true, but they would not typically choose such an appropriate place to do so; neither would they anticipate their quarry passing through such a location without first sighting and stalking them.  Something is amiss, here.

Aranos sighed.  As far as he could see, they had two choices; they could try to make a wide circle around the tigroons and come at them from the rear, which would probably take an hour and might alert the creatures to their presence, or they could press forward and hope to deal with the ambush when the beasts inevitably struck.  Neither of those options was great, but he didn’t really see a choice.  Losing time was certainly better than risking losing a companion, after all.  It’s a shame I can’t cast a Spell that far using Silma’s vision, like I did when we rescued Phil and his party, he sighed internally.  A couple of Gravity Webs to intercept their initial rush would turn those trees from a liability to an advantage for us…

His eyes narrowed.  Technically, he didn’t know if he could cast a Spell that way or not.  Many of his Spells, including his Energy Web, allowed him to cast them out to sight range.  He didn’t know if that applied to remotely viewing a spot or not, and honestly, if he didn’t try, he’d never know.  I’m going to try something, he told Silma cautiously.  Let me know if this is bothering you, and I’ll stop.

What are you considering, pack leader? she replied a bit suspiciously.

I’m going to try and cast a Spell using your senses instead of mine.  I don’t even know if it’ll work, but if it does, it’ll be a game-changer.

He called up the strands of mana he needed to weave his net and envisioned it forming in the air just beyond the two trees the tigroons had chosen for their ambush site.  He reached out, trying to push the mana into that spot, but it refused to budge; it was as if the energy had nowhere to go.  He tried again, but once more, the Spell simply hung uncast in his mana channels, unable to leave his body. 

He grumbled silently, but he wasn’t really surprised – and he wasn’t ready to give up.  Of course, it wasn’t going to be easy to do something like this, and he’d have honestly been shocked if it had worked on the first try.  He settled down on the ground, ignoring the curious glances from his companions, and focused his mind fully on the problem.  The first thing to do is to identify the issue, he mused silently.  I can obviously cast the Spell for quite a distance – I’ve hit balayangs a hundred feet or more overhead with it, and technically sight range could extend for miles someplace like the ocean or a mountaintop – so it can’t just be that the spot’s too far away. 

Curious, he cast an Air Web directly overhead, aiming it as high as he could see, and immediately the Spell raced out of his channels and formed into a swirling mass of invisible strands that whipped and tore at the tops of the dark pines looming above.  He canceled the Spell and repeated the casting, this time trying to cast it just beyond the treetops, into the unseen sky overhead.  Once more, the mana swirled into his channels and simply sat there, unable to be released.  He shifted his aim to the far-off treetops again, and immediately the Spell raced from his veins and coalesced at that distant point.

It’s like seeing the spot creates some kind of pathway the Spell can follow, he reasoned.  When I can’t see the target, it’s got nowhere to go, and it just kind of sits there.  He frowned as he considered that thought.  That can’t be right, though.  I cast that Ravaging Burst using Silma’s sight before, and that worked fine.  What’s the difference?  Why did that Spell have no trouble hitting an unseen location, while this one won’t do it?

As his frustration rose, Aranos forced his mind to calmness.  He relaxed his thoughts, allowing them to drift aimlessly, considering the problem without focusing on any one part of it.  Let’s look at it from a wider angle, he told himself.  What am I doing when I’m casting a Spell?  I’m envisioning the effect I want to happen, weaving strands of mana into a spellform that will replicate that effect, and sending it out of me to activate.  Although, I guess it’s a lot more complicated than that; I mean, I’ve got to totally envision the Spell from start to finish, to see it happening clearly in my mind.  When I’m casting an Air Web, I’m picturing the energy forming in me, the strands of mana leaping out to the target, how they intertwine…

His thoughts paused as he considered that more carefully.  When he was casting a Spell, he really was picturing every step of it, from gathering the energy to the finished effect it would have.  When he cast that Ravaging Burst, he’d known exactly how far away the target was, and he’d been able to picture very clearly his Spell arcing over the trees blocking his view and raining down on the attacking undead.  His imagination had provided that path for the Spell to follow, so the construct had taken effect.

When he was trying to cast his Web beyond the barrier of the trees overhead, though, he couldn’t see exactly what the target looked like, so he couldn’t imagine the effect occurring – and the Spell wouldn’t work.  When trying to cast the Spell through Silma’s eyes, he couldn’t imagine the path it would take to get there, couldn’t see it clearly in his mind, so it refused to coalesce. 

Although really, that shouldn’t be necessary, he realized.  This entire world is just one, giant simulation, if you get right down to it.  There’s a connection and a path between any two spots in the world, and there have to be algorithms in place to find the shortest path to help NPCs navigate.  That’s really all I need; I need to find the shortest path between these two points and let the Spell travel along that.  I don’t have to see the route it takes; I should just have to know that it can get there.

He sunk deeper into his thoughts, allowing his mind to drift, picturing himself kneeling on the dark, dead-feeling ground and at the same time holding the image of the exact spot he wanted to cast the Spell.  He felt as if he were floating above those two points, staring down at them as they lay on an unfathomably large and complex grid.  He could see the two points, and he knew there was a path connecting them, just as there was a path connecting any two locations in this world.  He didn’t try to see the route the Spell would take clearly; he simply imagined it traveling through that hazy landscape in between the two points, then coalescing at the new location. 

He pushed on the Spell, but nothing happened; something was blocking the Spell’s path.  That just means I have to try harder, he thought grimly, pouring more energy into the Spell.  He dumped SP into the construct and pressed with his will.  He could almost see it happening; the Spell would suddenly leap out of his body, drawn to the spot he’d chosen to target it, connecting those points like an arc of electricity.  He could feel the connection between those points, and more power rushed into the Spell as he demanded that it follow that connection…

The Spell discharged with a rush of power, sucking far more energy than Aranos had intended.  Through Silma’s eyes, he could see the sudden swirls of air fluttering the needles above the ground; the Air Web had taken effect, but it had drained a significant amount of SP – and left him with a bunch of blinking notifications, including some dire red ones:

Warning!
You are attempting to cast a Spell with an invalid or missing target.  Miscasting a Spell can result in Spell failure, Spell backlash, or Mana Burn.

Warning!
You are targeting an unseen location with a Spell that has a range of Sight.  Spell failure chance: 100%.

Warning!
You have cast a Spell with target of [Error:#TargetInvalid#]
[Error:#PathInvalid#].  FindPath method executed.
[Error:#SpellIndexNotFound#] New entry created.

Congratulations!
Through a special action, you have gained a new Ability.

Ability: Remote Casting
You can target a Sight-ranged Spell to any spot you can see, even if it is only seen through magical or remote vision.

Benefits: You can cast a Spell with a range of Sight to any location you can perceive, even if you are observing the spot remotely through magical or other means.  Casting a Spell remotely costs 10x the normal SP cost if the target is in the same region as the caster, 50x the cost if the target is in a different region with the same Light/Dark alignment as the caster’s location, 100x the cost if the target is in a different region with a differing Light/Dark alignment as the caster’s, and 500x if the target is on another world or plane entirely. 

Way to use our own methods against us, Jeff!  Keep up the good work!
Veronica

Aranos took a deep breath and studied his new Ability.  It was amazing, but Veronica and the AIs had done a decent job of balancing it.  If Aranos ever discovered a way to magically observe distant locations, this Ability would let him safely kill potential dangers without ever getting near them, but it would also cost a ridiculous amount of SP.  That simple Air Web had cost him over a thousand SP to hit a location a mile or so away.  If he wanted to cast a Ravaging Burst at, say, Cendarta from Stoneleague, he’d have to spend about half his max SP for a single Spell.  It seemed like it was an Ability that would be useful when he and Silma were fairly close but out of direct sight or one that might allow him to slowly cast a very powerful Spell at a remote location over days, weeks, or even longer. 

Aranos absently canceled the distant Spell and rose to his feet; they were still too far away to make use of it, since it would expire at just about the time they would reach the ambush spot moving in Stealth.  He still kept his focus half-trained on his Spell’s target as he led them closer, though; while he didn’t know if his new Gravity Web Spell was powerful enough to hold something as large as a tigroon, it would slow their initial rush, which was really all he needed.  However, that wouldn’t work if the cats moved or unleashed their attack too early, so he needed to keep his eyes on the beasts.

The tigroons sprang their trap just as the party entered the space between the two trees.  The two creatures leapt through the air in almost perfect unison, roaring loudly, their massive bodies fully outstretched, jaws gaping wide and razorlike claws extended to kill.  Their speed astonished Aranos; had the party not been prepared, there was no way he would have been able to get an Energy Web or Wall up in time to intercept them.  Their roars stirred the fires of anger and a desire for battle deep within him, demanding that he charge forward and slay the beasts immediately.  While Aranos was able to easily set that desire aside, he knew that Geltheriel and Silma would both be practically helpless to resist the urge to charge heedlessly into combat, while Rhys’ high Wisdom would only give him a chance to ignore the call.

Thanks to the mental shields he’d cast upon the trio, though, they were unaffected by the tigroons’ aura of bloodlust and fell into formation easily.  The massive creatures seemed to almost halt in midair, slowing to a crawl as they became tangled in Aranos’ invisible Gravity Web.  They might have been strong enough to push through on the ground, but in the air they simply didn’t have the leverage to do more than thrash around as they drifted incredibly slowly toward the ground, pulled inexorably down by their sheer mass.

Neither Aranos for Geltheriel wasted that time; the elf unleashed a steady stream of arrows from her longbow, while the arcane fired Composite Bullets at the pair.  While the tops of their heads and backs were protected by hard scales, their exposed undersides weren’t, and the pair’s barrage tore into the creatures, opening significant wounds that streamed their dark, red blood.  Aranos exulted until he saw that the crimson flow stopped almost immediately as the monsters’ exceptional LP regen kicked in.

The pair finally drifted free of the Web and landed heavily on the ground.  The moment their paws touched the soil, they charged forward, obviously enraged by the barrage they’d suffered.  Their trap, though, had been turned against them; instead of pinning the party between the two massive trees, they found themselves barred by Geltheriel and Silma, standing just behind the narrow space between the huge trunks, which were now boxing in the would-be ambushers.  The huge monsters pushed forward anyway, lashing out with their claws and snapping with their fangs, but thanks to the Empowered Strength and Agility Aranos had given the defenders, they were able to easily fend off the attacks.  The tigroons were trapped between the huge trees, much of their speed advantage negated, and unable to push past the fenrin and the Shadedancer.

Geltheriel and Silma dodged or blocked the heavy claws and whiplike tails of the tigroons and responded with lightning-fast attacks that sometimes drew blood but often slid harmlessly off the bone plates protecting the creatures or missed as the swift cats dodged the blows.  Aranos targeted one of the felines, the one engaged with Geltheriel, and fired a Kinetic Bullet at it, aiming for its bone-plated skull.  The armor-piercing bullet punched through the creature’s protection and exploded with a spurt of blood and shattered bone, and the monster recoiled from the wound, allowing Geltheriel to slash deeply into its unarmored chest.

The wounded tigroon growled low in its chest and lashed out once more with a paw, and Geltheriel blocked with her shield.  The claw struck with a flash of light, though, and the elf was flung backward several feet, crashing heavily to the ground and rolling to her feet.  The tigroon darted forward, but before it could take more than a couple steps, Aranos wrapped it in a Void Paralysis.  The creature growled once more, this time a deep, rumbling bass, and the prison shattered, but in those few instants Geltheriel had scrambled to her feet and stood before the creature once again, her shield warped from the blow but still intact.

The second tigroon made a high-pitched whine, and suddenly its speed redoubled as it clawed and bit at Silma.  The fenrin dodged as best she could, but the creature’s speed now outclassed hers; her truesilver armor shed most of its blows, but several of the strikes landed, leaving long lines of crimson blood welling along her sides.  The fenrin wasn’t helpless, though; as the creature attacked her, she struck back with her glowing fangs, tearing open jagged wounds of her own on the tigroon’s foreleg and neck.  Rhys stepped forward a moment later, chanting a healing Spell, and Silma’s wounds crusted over immediately.

Aranos felt a chill pass through him as he realized that, somehow, the tigroons were activating Abilities with their growls – and that the creatures seemed to have a lot more Abilities than Geltheriel had known.  He quickly double-cast Debilitation, targeting Agility on the hasted tigroon and Strength on the overpowered one.  The Spells sank in, reducing their targets’ Stats by over 50% and allowing Geltheriel and Silma to fight them effectively once more.  He targeted Geltheriel’s opponent with another Kinetic Bullet, this time aiming for the monster’s rear flank.  He quickly cloned the Bullet into three and released them; the trio of projectiles buried themselves in the unarmored rear leg and exploded, tearing open a ragged wound and exposing raw muscle and bone.  The tigroon immediately stumbled backward, disengaging from Geltheriel and letting out an odd, mewling sound as it turned and licked the wound.  The bleeding stopped immediately, and as Aranos watched, the wound began to close slowly but steadily.

Silma’s opponent let out a long, low-volume roar, and suddenly its claws burst into flame.  The fenrin dodged the flaming attacks from the tigroon, and Aranos caught it briefly in another Void Paralysis.  The beast shattered the Spell just as quickly as the other had, but before it did, Silma lunged forward and ripped into its throat, opening a deep wound that pumped thick blood.  As the Spell faded around the tigroon, it leapt backward and made the same high-pitched whine the other creature had.  The wound at its neck immediately stopped dumping blood on the ground, although it seemed to be healing more slowly than the other’s had. 

Aranos paused as a strange idea came to him; what if the tigroons weren’t using Abilities?  What if they were casting Spells somehow?  It was an absurd thought, but then, so was the idea that a single creature had this many Abilities – and that each tigroon had slightly different Abilities for some reason.   They were smart enough to plan that ambush, Aranos reasoned.  Maybe they’re smart enough to cast Spells, too?

He quickly cast his Ball Lightning and called down an arc of electricity, slamming it into the tigroon battling Silma.  The lightning mana coursed through the creature’s body, causing its muscles to briefly seize up and inflicting the Paralyzed debuff on it for a short, few seconds.  In that time, though, Aranos reached out and attached a mana tendril to the creature, blinking in surprise as he did.  Not only did the tigroon have an SP pool, it had a pretty significant one.

Aranos began to hastily drain that SP with his Mana Vampire Perk, channeling the stolen energy into a Lightning Blast at the second tigroon that smashed into its side, Paralyzing it as well.  Silma and Geltheriel both took advantage of their foes’ helplessness to inflict serious wounds on them, forcing the tigroons to retreat to heal their wounds.  Aranos wasn’t giving them that chance, though; as they moved back, he channeled a Fire Barrage and swept it back and forth between the pair, fueling the Spell with the tigroon’s stolen mana.  Marble-sized spheres of flame rained down on the creatures and burst into 10-foot-wide fireballs, scorching their hides and undoing whatever healing they were managing.

The tigroons seemed to realize that holding back and healing wasn’t going to work and charged back in.  The one battling Geltheriel let out its low, rumbling growl once more, and the bone scales covering its back suddenly crept down to cover its sides and upper legs.  The extra armor and weight slowed it somewhat, but Geltheriel was suddenly struggling to land a blow that didn’t merely ring off its armor.  Her Shadow Blade was still effective and slipped through the creature’s scaly protection, but each use sapped the Shadedancer’s Stamina.

The second tigroon let out a sound that was more like a scream, and Silma braced herself for whatever was about to happen – but whatever the tigroon was intending never manifested.  The creature looked almost puzzled for a moment before it staggered and fell as Aranos sucked the last dregs of mana from it.  The feline shook its head in confusion as the Mana Deprivation debuff set in, making it hard for it to focus on anything.  Aranos instructed Silma to step back and help Geltheriel deal with the other creature as he wrapped the fallen one in a Void Paralysis.  The fenrin’s form blurred, vanished, and appeared behind the armored tigroon as she lunged forward, tearing at its unarmored rear legs. 

The upright tigroon seemed to gain in ferocity as it saw its companion collapse, but when it felt Silma’s fangs tearing into its legs, Aranos could practically see the uncertainty in its face. He guessed that its instincts were telling it to turn and face that attacker at its rear, but it knew that doing so would just expose its rear to the Shadedancer’s blade.  In that moment of hesitation, Aranos called down another arc of lightning, freezing its muscles for just a moment, then stepped closer and unleashed a Dust Blast on the beast that left its armor cracked and brittle. 

He stepped back just as the monster’s Paralysis wore off, but it lunged at him nonetheless, its jaws scraping against his Arcane Armor and its bulk knocking him back onto his butt.  He scrambled to his feet, ready to cast his Flight Spell, but before he could, Geltheriel’s blade punched through the weakened armor around its neck and slid out the other side, followed by her Shadow Blade.  She jerked her blade downward, and while her regular sword simply slid an inch or so before halting, the inky black blade of darkness swept free of the tigroon’s throat, leaving a horrific wound.  The beast scrambled back in panic, trying to heal itself, but Silma tore at its legs and rear, finally ripping open a tendon in one leg and crippling the beast.  The tigroon fell to the earth, and Aranos finished it with a Kinetic Bullet that plunged into its eye, dug into its brain, and burst in a shower of gore and bloody flesh.

Geltheriel and Silma began moving toward the helpless creature just as Aranos swung his hand to point at it, summoning another Kinetic bullet.  Before he could fire it, though, Rhys’ voice rang out in their minds.  Wait, please do not kill it yet!  Something has Awakened this creature!

Chapter 13

Geltheriel froze.  Are you certain, Furor? she asked dubiously.  Is it not more likely that something is controlling it?

I can feel the changes in it, Shadedancer.  It has been Awakened, as had its companion.  You know that I must investigate this!

I want to know what you’re talking about, Aranos grimaced, but I can’t hold this thing forever, Rhys.  It’ll shake off its Mana Deprivation at some point, and even if it doesn’t, it’s strong enough to break the Paralysis through brute force.  I can maybe hold it for a minute longer; will that be enough?

Is there not some other way? Rhys protested, his mental voice anguished.  Please, Liberator, this is a duty of my House that I cannot forsake!

Aranos looked down at the beast, which was even now starting to struggle against his bindings as its confusion wore off.  There was a possible way, but it wasn’t something he’d done before except for training purposes.  He was hesitant to use the Spell; it was powerful, but it could easily be misused or turned to selfish purposes.  However, it was probably the only way he could help Rhys without the tigroon getting free, and despite everything, he still considered the Druid a friend.

Sighing, Aranos reached deep within himself and pulled up twin strands of Mind and Vital mana, weaving them together in a complex pattern that looked almost like a long tendril.  He lashed out with that whip of magical energy and connected it to the tigroon; the creature fought briefly against the invasion of foreign mana, but in its weakened state, it was all but helpless before his attack.  A web of Mind energy wove around its thoughts, sinking deeply into them, while tendrils of Vital mana plunged into the pools of energy powering its body, flooding them with his influence.  The Great Enthrallment Spell took firm hold over the tigroon, and Aranos released his Paralysis. 

Lie down and don’t try to hurt any of us, he ordered the creature silently, and the tigroon obediently rolled onto its stomach, its huge head resting on its paws.  Okay, Rhys, it’s safe now, he sent to the Druid.  You should have at least thirty minutes, but I can give you longer if you need it.  

My thanks, Liberator, the Druid sighed in mental relief before scrambling over to kneel before the creature, looking deeply into its eyes.  Aranos felt the Druid make a connection with the tigroon, one that was deeper and more primitive than his mental control of the beast.  Aranos commanded its conscious mind, but it seemed that Rhys was touching its subconscious soul.

I wonder if I could add Soul mana to the Enthrallment to do the same thing, Aranos mused before shaking his head and looking over at Geltheriel.  So, what’s going on here?

The Furor believes that these tigroons are Awakened, Oathbinder, she replied grimly.  That would explain their strange behavior and the difficulty we faced in combating them.

Yeah, I know you think that explained things, but it really didn’t, he observed dryly.  That’s like explaining what a circle is by saying, ‘Something circular’.  Can you maybe explain what Awakened means and why it’s such a big deal?

Geltheriel’s sigh echoed in his mind.  Forgive me, Oathbinder.  I will explain.  An Awakened animal is one that has gone through an Awakening.  Rhys believes that to be the case, here. 

Aranos stared at her evenly, refusing to let his irritation show in his expression.  Gee, that explains everything.  You know that if I have to ask Rhys, he’s going to turn it into a long, sarcastic lecture, and then we’ll both be annoyed.  Do you really want that?  Because I’ll do it.

No, Oathbinder, do not disturb the Furor, she laughed silently, grinning at him.  He has found what he would consider a greater discovery than any we have made so far.  It would be cruel to tear him away from it.

Once, before the Feast, the woman explained, those of the House of Sickle could not only form Bonds with the creatures of nature, they could grant them Intelligence and Wisdom equal to that of an elf.  This was called the Awakening, and the Awakened Companions of the Druids constituted a large part of their power, for the Awakened creatures had not only intelligence but gained spellcasting prowess, as well.  They fought beside their Druid companions against the Darkness as allies and equals, not merely servants.

However, like so much else that was good in this world, the knowledge of how to Awaken a beast was lost in the Feast.  A Druid’s Companion still gains power, to be sure, and cannot be slain so long as the Druid lives, but the time when the Druids and their Companions fought side-by-side as equals is no more.

Wait, what about Silma? Aranos protested.  She’s as smart as any elf, and she’s got some Abilities that are close to Spells.

While none would argue that Silma is an amazing creature, Oathbinder, she is one of a race of similarly amazing creatures.  All celestial wolves were intelligent, powerful, and magical in their own right, without needing mortal assistance. And consider that while Silma has powerful Abilities, she cannot cast Spells as a Wizard; Awakened Companions could do this, although their selection of Spells was limited.

Well, these things were casting Spells, Aranos acknowledged.  And they did seem pretty smart, so I guess it fits.  He frowned thoughtfully.  If the Ability to Awaken animals was lost in the Feast, though, how can it have happened to these tigroons?  Is there a chance that it just happened spontaneously?

None can say, for those secrets are lost.  Perhaps it can happen through random chance – but to six of the creatures at once?  Or even two of those six, when the House of the Sickle has been laboring to accomplish this for centuries without success?  She shook her head.  It is far more likely that something or someone Awakened them, and if that is so, then perhaps it can be learned, Oathbinder.  If the Furor can bring this secret back to the elves, he will be lauded as a hero for generations.

Aranos shook his head.  Well, I hope he succeeds, then.  He looked around at the clearing.  Why don’t you and I start Harvesting this tigroon while he’s busy, and Silma can scout around and see where the rest of the creatures are?

Geltheriel shook her head.  You are the best Tracker in our group, Oathbinder.  I can Harvest this rawondo – which is their proper name, meaning tiger of the stone, rather than the uncouth ‘tigroon’ – without assistance.  Would it not be wiser for you to assist Silma in locating the remaining creatures?  If they continue to be as difficult to Track, even she will be hard pressed to follow their trail.

Aranos was forced to admit that Geltheriel’s idea made more sense; the rawondos had been very difficult to Track earlier, and he doubted they would make it any easier, especially if they heard the others roaring in combat and suspected there might be danger.  He sent the subjugated rawondo a simple command to lie still and remain so until he returned, then dropped into Stealth so that he and Silma could follow the remaining creatures.

The trail, though, was clear and straightforward beyond the ambush site, as if the creatures assumed that nothing could survive the attack and that there would be no need for them to disguise their tracks further.  I don’t like this, Silma, he sent silently to the fenrin skulking beside him.

Neither do I, pack leader, she agreed.  Our prey seems to be foolishly leading us toward their den when they’ve done everything possible to disguise their path to this point.  It’s as if they want us to follow them.

Which means we won’t, he decided, stopping and examining the tracks more closely.  He breathed deeply, taking in the scent of the four remaining creatures, examining their trail for the tiny differences that would identify them to his Skill.  One was a bit smaller than the rest; its bounds weren’t quite as long, and its paws didn’t sink as deep.  Another had hindquarters that were shifted slightly out of alignment with its forequarters, while the third had a rear left paw that was slightly larger than its others. 

As his Skill sifted out the four, unique trails, he suddenly had a sense of where the rawondos were hiding – and it wasn’t all together.  Two of them were in one location not far from where they were, while the other pair was more distant.  He led Silma off the trail to the left, in the direction of the nearer pair but at an angle to the path they’d taken, veering wide around them.  He still had a sense of the two rawondos, but so long as he wasn’t tracking them, theoretically his Trackless Ability should prevent them from being able to sense or Scent him until he started hunting them again. 

He sent a quick message to Geltheriel telling him what they’d found, made sure the captured rawondo was still docile and under control – his Spell could last for up to an hour with his casting bonuses so long as the Druid didn’t try to make the creature do anything it wouldn’t normally do – then he led Silma deeper into the forest.  The pair of them slipped through the Blighted woodland while he felt the presence of the rawondos slowly shift to his right.  He led the fenrin back to the right, heading toward the original trail, eventually cutting back to the left.  He arced around the creatures, gradually drawing closer but never heading directly toward them, until thirty minutes or so later, Silma told him to halt.

We’re very near the creatures, pack leader, she told him.  There’s a large fallen tree ahead that overlooks the place where we would’ve passed had we been following the trail.  I believe they’re buried in the crown of that tree, waiting for us to pass below – as if we’d fall for such an obvious ambush.

Aranos grinned silently; Silma was rightfully proud of her hunting skills, and she didn’t think much of any creature that treated her like a less than stellar hunter.  I’d ask if you could slip ahead until you can see them without being spotted, but I know the answer.  Do you mind doing that?

Of course, she replied, and Aranos could almost feel the pleasure rolling off her.  Just as she didn’t like anyone disparaging her hunting skills, she loved someone appreciating them.  He grinned to himself as she slid ahead into the underbrush while he crouched down in Stealth and reached out to Geltheriel. 

We’ve found the tigroons – sorry, the rawondos, he quickly corrected.  There’s a pair of them waiting to ambush us, and Silma’s getting them in sight.  How’s Rhys doing?

He is still in deep contemplation, Oathbinder, but I will rouse him for this.  If you summon the captured rawondo to your location, we will follow it. 

Good.  He’ll be upset, but tell him that I’m planning on getting him another of the things to commune with, as well.  That should cheer him up.

He gave the Shadedancer a few minutes to rouse Rhys before sending a silent message to his captured rawondo to come find him as quietly as possible.  He settled into the brush and closed his eyes, sending his thoughts out to Silma and taking in the world through her senses, instead.  His vision expanded, and he could see individual veins on far distant leaves, the tiny marks in the soil far below from the passage of small rodents, and the dull, matte scales on the backs of the pair of rawondos lurking high in the canopy.  They were buried in the dead and dying leaves of the fallen tree, their stripes blending in almost perfectly against the ash-colored trunk and crimson streaks of fungus coating it, but Silma’s keen eyesight picked them out easily, even through the shroud of leaves in which she was hiding.

What he was about to do would take a considerable amount of Domination mana, more than he could safely use under normal circumstances without damaging himself.  Fortunately, his Malleable Mana racial Ability let him change regular mana into an Enhanced aspect, albeit at a hefty price of 15 SP of Primary mana to 1 SP of Enhanced.  Aranos slowly began to shift his SP into Domination mana, weaving almost fifteen thousand SP into the whiplike form he needed before lashing out and connecting it to the closer of the two rawondos. 

The creature tensed almost imperceptibly as his Spell struck.  It tried vainly to resist, but his will clamped ruthlessly down on it, binding its mind and body into his service.  He silently ordered it to remain still, and the creature settled at once.  He sent it a series of brief instructions, none of which went against its nature, not that this truly mattered.  Normally, Domination Spells could only force a creature to perform a reasonable action, something they might be convinced to do by someone with an exceptional Charisma.  It was much harder to force a creature to act against its nature, and it was impossible to command the victim to do something truly dangerous or suicidal. 

However, Aranos’ Spells used a more potent form of the Domination aspect that didn’t give the targets of his Spells those same choices.  He could command the fierce predator to roll over on its belly and play with a ball of yarn or to stand on its hind legs and dance around if he wanted, and it would do so without hesitation.  He could even command it to hurl itself off a cliff, and while it would gain a chance to resist that sort of order and even got a bonus to the Opposed Check, unless its Wisdom was a lot higher than Aranos thought it was based on the size of the previous creature’s SP pool, it wouldn’t really have much chance to succeed.

That was what made Domination mana so insidious.  He could use it to control almost any creature that didn’t have a very high Wisdom or some sort of Mental Resistance, and he could basically force them to do anything he wanted.  There might be a price to pay for that – he’d gain Corruption Points for any actions he forced another to do just as if he’d done them himself – but it was still a significant temptation.  That, he supposed, was the point: the AIs were trying to see how humans thought, and presenting them with temptations was a good way to understand the darker side of human emotion.

When Geltheriel and Rhys drew near, he moved to join them and led them up the path toward the ambush, with the Enthralled rawondo trailing behind in Stealth.  He watched through Silma’s eyes as the creature he hadn’t captured tensed itself to pounce – and tumbled to the ground in shock as its partner suddenly slammed into its side, knocking it from its perch and bearing it to the earth below.  As the two cats tore into each other – the free rawondo’s feline instincts to protect itself overcoming any hesitation it might have to attack its companion – Silma leaped down from the tree and the party rushed forward to join the Enthralled tigroon in combat. 

With the embattled creature caught by surprise and facing not only the party but two of its own kind, the battle was short and brutal.  When the rawondo fell, Aranos called the two Enthralled ones back and let Rhys return to his communion with them while Geltheriel fell to Harvesting the slain creature.  He and Silma resumed Tracking the final pair of the beasts, and Aranos felt a significant sense of relief that the trail was once more convoluted and twisted, backtracking often and crossing itself frequently. 

The ground around them began to gradually rise as a series of low hills swelled from the dank earth.  The trail circled around the hills erratically, but eventually it crested the top of the tallest hill, and Aranos realized at once why the trail had twisted and turned in such a convoluted fashion.  The hill was denuded of trees and was covered with low scrub brush and tangles of thorny briars, but it was dominated by the shattered ruin of what looked like it might once have been a defensive keep.  The tumbled remains of a stone wall lay scattered across the hilltop, and the crumbled main building yawned silently before the hunters, its empty, black doorway seeming to beckon them.

This is our prey’s den, pack leader, Silma told him silently.  It doesn’t seem like a particularly suitable one.

Aranos frowned, his gaze scanning the ruins of the keep.  Really?  It has four walls, and the first story roof is still intact.  It seems okay to me.

It’s built to be a den for humans, not predators, she replied dismissively.  The humans designed it to be defended from within, not to allow a predator to get out quickly to protect its home.  The exits are too small, it’s got holes in the walls so the humans could look outside without going outside – which seems foolish, really – and the roof is probably barely tall enough for them to fit below it.  If they’re trapped in there, it’ll be hard to fight their way out.  A natural cave would have been a much better choice.

I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I can see that.

As it turned out, Silma’s observations were spot on.  Aranos waited for the elves to join Silma and him before rousing the final pair of tigroons with a brief Kinetic Barrage.  The blasts of force exploded like thunderclaps against the crumbling walls of the building, partially collapsing one wall and causing the roof on that side to sag alarmingly.  The early afternoon sky rang with the roars of the creatures, but their hasty exit was blocked as the two Enthralled rawondos stood just outside the exit, tearing and biting as the first occupant tried to rush free.  Silma and Geltheriel joined the melee, with Aranos firing Kinetic Bullets and sending arcs of electricity from his Ball Lightning into the hapless creature. 

The second tigroon roared and raged within the shattered keep, and Aranos felt bursts of mana roll out from it as it tried to use its Spells to escape and join the combat.  Its efforts were in vain; the heavy stone walls and partially collapsed ceiling trapped it within until the first creature was slain.  When silence descended, the second tigroon remained inside, realizing the trap the party had set for it, but Aranos had his Enthralled minions bellow their enraging roars, and the final, doomed beast rushed out to meet its challengers – and its ruin. 

When the final rawondo fell at last, Aranos looked grimly at the two Enthralled ones remaining.  “Rhys,” he asked aloud, no longer worried about more of the creatures hearing him and laying an ambush, “have you gotten what you can from these two?”

The Druid sighed.  “I have learned what I could, Liberator.  It is not much, but – it may be enough.  I will have to study and consider it.  And yet…is there not a way you could spare their lives?  You hold them in thrall, and one observes that they present no danger to you in such a state.”

Aranos shook his head.  “I can’t keep them that way forever.  It drains SP from me to keep the Spells channeled, and I’m using up most of my SP regen right now creating Domination mana just to keep the Spells active without hurting my Stats.”

“Could they not be Redeemed, as Silma was?” Geltheriel asked curiously.

“The Spell won’t Redeem intelligent creatures,” he explained.  “The rawondos would have to want to be Redeemed.”  The Sorcerer looked at Rhys.  “Do you think they’d want that?”

The Druid grimaced almost painfully.  “No, they would not, Liberator.  I have spent much time in communion with them, and every moment they raged and fought, craving my blood and flesh.  They are intelligent, but they have no desire to turn to the Light.”

“Then there’s nothing to be done.  We have to put them down,” Aranos said heavily.  “Do you want to walk away?  I wouldn’t blame you.”

“No, Liberator.  Though this task is distasteful, I will face it without flinching.”

Aranos ordered the two creatures to stand still while he gathered his mana.  He could feel them fighting against his control, but he clamped viciously down on their wills and held them, immobile, as Geltheriel slashed their throats with her blade.  He followed with his Deadly Vapors Spell, wrapping them in a cloud of Death mana that ate steadily away at their LP.  Their struggles to escape his control grew more frantic as their blood spilled on the ground, and they felt the clouds of gray mana stealing their life energies, but he held them in the iron grip of his will until eventually they collapsed, lifeless on the ground.

Rhys sighed.  “That was an awful thing to witness, but I understand its necessity.”  He walked away from the others, staring off the hilltop into the dark forest lying below.  After a moment, he shook his head and turned back to face them.

“I was able to glean from the creatures the details of how this came about,” he said quietly.  “The rawondos were not always as we saw them, joined in a pack and truly aware.  They roamed as individuals in the Darkwood, hunting across a wide range and avoiding one another and the other great predators in the forest, as was their nature. 

“And then, a creature came to them and Tamed each,” he continued.  “The beasts did not know who or what their new master was, so they could not give me details, but it was humanoid and neither human nor elf.  Nor did they know how they were tamed, for at that time, they were still simple beasts, but to hold such powerful creatures for so long, I am certain that magic was involved.  It gathered them into a pack and had them hunt the area near Avendale, for what purpose they did not know and were not able to ask…nor cared to wonder, one imagines, as they were receiving blood and death in great quantities.

“However, their natural prowess was not sufficient when the armies of Avendale tired of their predations and drove them from the city’s borders.  That was when their master made a grave mistake: it Awakened the creatures, hoping to Bond with them and make them a much more potent force.”

Rhys’ mouth twisted grimly.  “One notices that there is some irony to be found, here.  Their master held the deep secret of Awakening a beast but did not understand that a person can hold but one Soul Bond, no more.   It Bound one of the rawondos, but the Awakening freed the others from its control, and they immediately turned on their former master.  While the Bound rawondo fought to defend its Bondmate, once the master fell, the Bond was broken, and the pack was fully freed.”

He stared out into the forest.  “The master’s remains lie somewhere out in those woodlands,” he shook his head.  “Where, the creatures would not say.  They remained in this place, turning the master’s ruined fortress into their den and continuing their predations along the Trade Road.”

“That explains a lot,” Aranos mused.  “Is that why they were so worried about being followed?  They didn’t want someone else to come and Bond with them again?”

Rhys shrugged.  “They did not say, and I did not ask, Liberator.  One observes that it is as reasonable a guess as any.”  He sighed.  “If you will excuse me, while I understand that we must Harvest the creatures, I would prefer not to witness it.  I will examine the interior of the keep and see if, perhaps, their former master left anything behind of use.”

Aranos watched the saddened Druid walk slowly into the darkness of the keep, his own heart heavy in his chest.  He was sure that Rhys had been hoping to somehow save the Awakened creatures and perhaps bring them back to Eredain to be studied, their secrets unlocked.  Realizing that it wasn’t possible would be heartbreaking, considering what Geltheriel had said this discovery meant to the elf.

Aranos sighed and settled in to begin Harvesting his rawondo.  There wasn’t much he could do to help the Druid, and they still had a Quest to complete, after all.  Before Aranos could get far with his work, though, Rhys’ voice cried out from the interior.

“Liberator!  Come quickly!” the Druid shouted, his voice strangely frantic.  Aranos dismissed the deepsteel knife he’d conjured and rushed into the darkened building, his Night Vision lighting the dim room in shades of silver and gray.  He glanced around hurriedly as he summoned his mana, ready to defend against an attacker; the interior walls of the keep had mostly fallen or been smashed by its former inhabitants, but the creatures had pushed most of the rubble off to the sides in small piles, keeping the central space fairly clear.  The interior was remarkably clean, and the musky odors that Aranos associated with animal dens were far less cloying than he’d expected, probably because of the empty, glassless windows that allowed a breeze to blow through and clear out any strong smells. 

Rhys was standing on the opposite side of the room, staring down at one of the heaps of masonry, and Aranos felt a sinking feeling as he approached the pile of rubble the Druid peered down into.  A new scent filled Aranos’ nose, this one somehow fresher than the already dissipating stench of the slain creatures.  As he stood over the pile, his heart lurched in his chest.  The rubble had been hollowed out and filled with dried grass, leaves, and dirt to make a softer bed than the stony floor provided, and nestled in that bed was a single, tiny, kitten-like tigroon no bigger than his forearm.

The creature had backed up to the edge of its nest and stood stiffly, its teeth bared as it hissed at the intruders.  Its fur was totally black, without the bands of rust the adults’ coats had, and the bony plates protecting it only covered the top of its head.  Its claws were small but sharp, and it already had slightly elongated front fangs protruding from its upper muzzle.  It was adorable, in a vicious sort of way – and Aranos dreaded the answer to the question he had to ask.

“Is – is it Awakened, Rhys?” he spoke softly. 

“No, Liberator,” the Druid shook his head.  “My guess is that this one was born after the creatures’ master was killed, and it seems that the Awakening does not pass from parent to offspring – at least, it did not in this case.”

Aranos nodded; if the cub had been Awakened, they’d have had no choice but to kill it.  The elves had made numerous attempts over the centuries to capture and tame the young of the Shadowborn, and every time, it ended in disaster.  The Corruption filling the creatures wasn’t something that could be overcome with kindness or care; the Darkness gripped their hearts and drove them to bloodlust and violence eventually, no matter what affection was given them.

Once, it had simply been assumed that Shadowborn creatures were unredeemable and could only be freed from the Darkness by death, but Aranos had changed that, and that meant this cub didn’t have to die.  He reached down into himself, gathering the river of power that flowed through him and drawing it forth.  He wouldn’t let the Darkness have this creature; he wouldn’t let it grow into a thing of death, rage, and eternal pain.  He could free it from its bondage to the Shadow; he needed it to be so, demanded it to happen.

Power erupted from him in a golden flood as his Needed Reclamation activated.  The cub mewled piteously and backed away as tendrils of aureate fire latched onto it, sinking into the small creature and burning out the Corruption within.  Once more, he heard a distant roar of rage and terror as he snatched another soul from the Darkness, but he ignored that far-off being’s promises of dire punishment.  He didn’t fear the Darkness. 

The Darkness, he knew, feared him, instead.

He kept the power carefully controlled, allowing it to flow out his channels instead of roaring through him in a flood.  Power licked at the walls, filling in gaps in the stone and lifting rubble back into position.  Fire raced across every surface, scouring clean the remains of death, Corruption, and Blight and leaving the stones glossy and smooth.  The structure rumbled as stones shifted back into position overhead while new stone swirled into being and left the building hale and whole. 

As the power raging through Aranos faded and receded back into the fathomless well deep within him, the Sorcerer shuddered and sat down heavily on the ground.  Weariness rolled through his body as the Fatigued debuff set in, but before he could call up the blinking notifications demanding his attention, he felt a rough, sandpapery tongue slide against the back of his hand.

The small, golden-furred tiger cub that stared back at him mewed once and returned to trying to lick the armor off his wrist and arm.

Chapter 14

McBane hung from the roughly hewn rafters of the ceiling as the four guards plodded below him, never once glancing up at the stealthy Rogue thanks to the water that dripped steadily from the ceiling, drenching McBane’s clothing.  Strength wasn’t McBane’s best Stat, but at 43, it was high enough that he felt almost no strain as he gripped one rafter with his hands and pressed his soft-soled boots against the opposite one.  It was the kind of pose that would have been impossible IRL, but here in the game, to McBane it seemed that not a lot of things were truly impossible.  They just had various levels of difficulty, and anything could be done with enough effort, training, and skill. 

That suited the Giantbane right down to the ground.  He didn’t mind hard work or adversity.  In fact, he was of the opinion that nothing gained without effort was worthwhile.  He’d been a bit frustrated when he’d gotten this Quest basically thanks to Aranos, but he was mollified by how hard he’d had to work so far to keep it moving along.  He had a feeling this was going to be an important Class Quest, and if he’d felt like it had just been given to him, he knew he’d resent it – and probably Aranos, as well.

That wasn’t really fair, of course.  At first, McBane had thought the young man was just incredibly lucky or had somehow managed to hack the system or something.  That was supposed to be impossible, but while McBane wasn’t an IT guy, he did know that every time someone said a system was impossible to hack, it got hacked almost immediately.  However, he’d quickly realized that Aranos wasn’t just lucky; he was good at the game.  He paid attention to details that McBane missed, saw connections that McBane overlooked, and tried things that McBane would have considered fruitless, and all that had paid off not just for the Sorcerer but for the entire party. 

That really just made it worse, because McBane couldn’t even dislike the guy.  He was friendly, easy to get along with, hard to offend, and quick to admit his mistakes.  He also had that ridiculous Charisma that had women eating out of his hand, including both Meridian and Martina.  Martina would never admit it, but McBane had seen it; the Ranger had a bit of a crush on the guy, and while Meridian liked to pretend she was just joking when she flirted with Aranos, McBane had noticed that she didn’t flirt with Phil or Longfellow the same way. 

Hell, the man’s Charisma had even affected McBane a bit.  He was pretty easy on the eyes, and IRL, he’d totally have been McBane’s type.  He was slim, tall, with long hair, and he was a redhead.  McBane had a thing for redheads.  He also seemed a bit inexperienced, so he’d need someone to teach him everything and show him the ropes…

The Rogue shook his head, dismissing his wandering thoughts.  I don’t know how much of that is the guy’s Charisma and how much is me just wanting to get laid, he thought ruefully.  Fortunately, tomorrow was logout, and hopefully McBane could get that second part taken care of.  If not, well, he hadn’t been joking about that whorehouse to Geltheriel, and he certainly had the money for it, now.  That would have to wait, though.  Kind of in the middle of a Quest, here, he reminded himself.

He dropped to the floor soundlessly once the Bashers were past.  The madame at the brothel Aranos Tracked those thieves to had been a dead end; all McBane had found there were the two thieves and the remains of the group’s hideout.  The thieves had paid the madame for the use of her basement as a hiding place, which was a fairly standard arrangement.  The madame took their money and made sure they didn’t ply their trade on her customers, and in return they got a reasonably secure place to stay.

The hideout itself hadn’t really been all that unusual, except that McBane found a few bits of overly nice clothing and some decent weapons and jewelry the gang had stashed, probably to fence later.  That was odd, and it made McBane think that the gang had successfully hit more than one wealthy merchant or noble.  Both of those were usually out of bounds for simple gangs, since they had the money and connections to bring the retribution of the guards or even the king down on the Guild, and usually, the Guild punished a group who broke those rules pretty harshly.

The gang’s Shiner or leader had left behind a handful of possessions, including some notes written in Thieves Script that would look like idle scratching to someone else.  That note had led McBane to a second hideout, and he’d spent the night and most of the morning infiltrating that group – and he’d come to realize that there was something very wrong about this gang.  They were a group of Bashers and Tossers – muggers and burglars – but they seemed to work the Merchant Ward exclusively.  That was odd enough, but the target McBane had gone with the gang to hit was a prosperous armor merchant, meaning he had a royal license and thus had enough connections with the crown to be dangerous.

The Guild wasn’t a tightly run organization.  It was, as one of the best fictional thieves McBane had ever read about called it, “a collection of like-minded individuals”.  The Guild existed for one purpose: to make sure that every thief made as much money as possible as safely as possible, and to make sure that the Guild made even more.  Because of that, it only set down a few absolute rules for its members, and most of those were common sense.  No jobs could be done against the crown or nobles without Guild permission.  No one targeted the guard or military.  No one worked with the Shadowborn.  No one worked the High Ward unless they were a Filcher – the nobles had a soft spot for kids – or a Tosser working directly for one of the Thief Lords.

Other rules were less strict but were still considered important, such as being cautious around Travelers.  Players who got robbed of gold were usually just grouchy; players who had their gear stolen got pissed, and the Guild had already lost a high-ranking member to a group of players who hadn’t been content to get their stuff back and wanted vengeance, no matter how many times the thieves killed them.  Eventually, they got their target, and the Guild couldn’t just replace a loss like that easily.  Conventional wisdom now was to only target Travelers’ gold and leave their stuff alone. 

Not targeting wealthy merchants was a similar guideline.  It wasn’t a real rule, and the Guild wouldn’t have this group killed for what they were doing, but their Shiner would be getting a visit from a high-ranking member, an upright man soon enough to make sure they understood why this was a bad idea.  The gang had to know that, and they had to know that the visit would be accompanied by some beatings and maybe a death to drive the point home, but they didn’t seem to care.  The only thing that McBane could think of was that the gang had a powerful patron backing them, one that was protecting them from retribution, and he was determined to find out who that was.

His current mission for the gang was to sneak into the merchant’s warehouse, find the hidden passage that the Shiner’s intel told him led to the merchant’s hidden treasure vault.  Once he’d found it and secured it, a pair of Tossers who were currently standing guard in the warehouse would come down and rob the place.  One of them had a precious Storage Bag, which was uncommon in the Guild, as the items were expensive, and the people who had them were usually too protective of them for them to be easily stolen, and the hope was that they’d clean the place out and the gang would be able to live the high life for a few weeks off the proceeds.

It had taken McBane a lot longer than he’d liked to find the hidden door and unlock the secret mechanism, and Malcolm would have given him a major tongue-lashing over his shoddy Skills.  The thing was, McBane just wasn’t that kind of Rogue, and he never would be.  He wasn’t into picking locks or setting traps; he was a Duelist.  He eschewed armor for high Agility and Dodge and focused most of his training on fighting with a short sword in each hand.  And Malcolm would say that’s all good and well, but you can spend some time training those other Skills, too, he thought ruefully.  And he’d be right.

The problem was, that was everyone’s expectation of a Rogue, and McBane – or Blaine, as he was known IRL – wasn’t big on living up to others’ expectations.  He certainly hadn’t lived up to his parents.  They were prominent members of Fine Gael, the conservative Irish political party, and they worked tirelessly to hold back the gradual liberal shift the party had been undergoing for decades.  They’d been extremely unhappy when he’d come out but told him so long as he wasn’t extravagantly gay, they would deal with it.

So, of course, he’d been as extravagantly gay as he could manage for a year or so, and they’d cut ties with him.  Work had taken him across the Atlantic to America, and now, a decade and a half later, he almost never spoke to his parents and had only casual ties with his younger sister.  She’d been fine with his admission, but she was her father’s daughter and couldn’t bring herself to publicly support his sexuality.  It hurt, but then, lots of things hurt.  He’d moved past it and built a life for himself.  Without the need to irritate his parents, he’d toned back his extravagant lifestyle significantly.  In truth, public displays of emotion or really any sort of public displays at all made him extremely uncomfortable.  He kept a fairly low profile, worked, dated occasionally, and avoided the clubs and nightlife that some of his friends were really into.  I guess I’m my mother’s son, too.

That was probably why he pushed back against the typical Rogue/Assassin build.  Normally, an Agility-based fighter fought the way Geltheriel tended to.  They struck hard, usually against an unarmored or unaware opponent, then retreated from combat to strike again.  McBane loved combat, though, and he’d pumped his Dodge Skill much higher than the average Rogue would have.  That let him make that initial strike, then remain in melee for longer than normal, avoiding attacks rather than blocking them as a Warrior might. 

Technically, he could have done the same thing as a Warrior and focused on Agility rather than Strength, and there were advantages to that.  Warriors got bonuses to LP and to Weapons Mastery Skills, so he’d be able to survive longer in a fight as a Warrior and fight more effectively, plus they generally had more Stamina.  He, on the other hand, got bonuses to critical hits and critical damage, especially on his first strike, and his Agility rose faster than it would have as a Warrior.  He could have picked an Assassin Class, which would have given him even more bonuses to critical hits, but that would have reduced his overall survivability.  Rogue was a nice middle ground, and he was glad he took it.

Especially now, as he slipped through the passage that seemed to lead into the earth and under the river.  The tunnel was narrow, fairly high-ceilinged, and extremely damp.  The floor was a clay and sand mixture that absorbed the water without becoming slippery like stone or a sodden mess like earth, and it lent itself to silent movement.  He moved like a shadow along the walls, leaping up to the rafters using his Acrobatics Skill whenever his acute Perception picked up the graceless trudging of a guard patrol.  He didn’t know what was down here, but judging from how frequent patrols were, it was something pretty important.

The tunnel ended at what looked like a blank, stone wall, and it took McBane precious minutes to find the secret latch that unlocked the door hidden in the wall.  Okay, fine, I should be practicing my thief Skills more.  It opened silently on well-greased hinges and led into a circular room with doors leading out on the left and right and what looked like a door-sized portcullis straight ahead made of some sort of silver-white metal that McBane was sure he’d seen before.

None of that really mattered, though, considering the four well-armed, heavily armored guards that had spotted the errant Rogue and were even now charging toward him.

McBane’s heart raced, and his adrenaline spiked as he whipped out his twin short swords and moved forward quickly to meet his foes.  His blades were long for a short sword, nearly 30 inches, and were narrower, with razorlike edges and a wicked point.  They were fast, lethal, and thanks to the heavy bell they had to cover his hands, he could thrust, slash – albeit not very effectively – and even punch with them.  He moved forward, his weight centered as he dropped into a guard position, then slipped under the heavy, awkward slash of the first attacker.  He thrust upward, burying six inches of metal into the man’s solar plexus and up into his lungs, then jerked the blade free and rolled under a second attack.

His fighting style was a mixture of swift thrusts, acrobatics, and occasional low kicks or punches.  His blades’ short length and relative frailty meant he had to slide blades rather than parrying or blocking directly, and he had to be able to dart in and out of striking distance quickly before an enemy could recover.  He relied on speed, deadly attacks to critical areas, and his Bleeding Strike Ability that sapped an opponent’s Stamina with every hit. 

This was his element.  He’d struggled against the undead creatures in Antas because so many of his Abilities relied on critical hits, and undead were generally immune to those.  Now, fighting heavily armored but lumbering human Warriors, he was a deadly viper striking amongst a pack of elephants.  If they caught him, it would be dangerous or even fatal, but he moved like the wind, and their weapons touched only air.

He had a bit of struggle with the spear wielder.  The man’s weapon could hold McBane at bay pretty effectively and moved swiftly to track him as he dodged about, trying to clear the spear’s reach.  Finally, he’d had to sacrifice some LP, letting the spear slice along his side but giving him the opening to move past the spearhead and open several, bleeding holes in the hapless Warrior’s body.  When the man collapsed at last, McBane searched their bodies and found a set of keys.

The doors to the right and left led into what looked like a barracks and sleeping chambers.  He rifled through the small chests and cabinets, finding only a paltry sum of coins and nothing else worth keeping.  Not unless I wanted some guy’s unwashed underwear, he laughed silently.  Nope, not for me, thanks.

The keys opened the barred portcullis, and he pulled it open, again thinking that the silver-white metal looked familiar somehow.  It was probably something he’d seen Aranos using; the Sorcerer had quite a knack for item creation, and he seemed to be able to replicate all sorts of exotic materials without much effort.  The metal was the color of platinum but as hard as steel, and it felt cold to the touch, as if it were sucking the heat from his body.

Beyond that gate was a second, similar one that also opened to one of his absconded keys, which led him into a large, dark room.  He pulled out a Lightstone, a small gem that shed a gentle light about as bright as a lit lantern; unlike Aranos and the elves, he didn’t have Night Vision and couldn’t see in the darkness.  As the glow from the marble-sized crystal illuminated the room dimly, several realizations crystallized in the Rogue’s mind all at once.

First, this merchant hadn’t gotten rich off his armor sales – or at least, not just off those.  He was a smuggler, and judging from the dozen or so black, lupine amaroks that the crystal lit up, all staring at him menacingly, the man was a beast smuggler.  That wasn’t uncommon; McBane had heard of secret fighting arenas where gladiators fought for the amusement of the rich, as well as nobles who imported beasts so they could battle them to hone their Skills and grind XP.  Smuggling Shadowborn was a different story, though, and if the merchant were caught with these, he’d be lucky to just be executed for it. 

Second, having a treasure vault connected to a warehouse would have been a dumb idea.  Why would a merchant put the door in a place where some errant but perceptive dockworker might have stumbled on it, or where someone might see the guards entering and leaving and investigate?  McBane would have placed the entrance to the vault in his own home, and he’d have made sure that no one, not even his own guards knew where it was, relying on traps and secret doors to keep it safe instead.  Every person who knew how to access the vault would be one more person who could be bribed, tortured, or bespelled to share the secret. 

Third, the gang had known both of these things.  McBane didn’t look back as he heard the portcullis he’d just opened slam back shut, keeping his eyes on the wolves, who were rising to their feet, growls bubbling in their throats.  “Well, well, Traveler, what a little bite you stepped into,” a rough voice cackled from the tunnel, one that McBane recognized as belonging to one of the Tossers who had apparently followed him down the tunnel.  “Shame you couldn’t see the dark of it.  I hear that you all come back from the straight path; wonder how many times these beasties’ll eat you before you give up?”

“The Guild will put you in a stone box for this,” the Rogue said, his thoughts racing.  He wasn’t worried about dying; he was bound to the Black Blade, and even if he weren’t, the game wouldn’t spawn him into a dangerous situation.  He was surprised by the gang’s behavior, though.  “Biting a Traveler’s too boring for them; they know I won’t let this rest.”

“We ain’t worried about the Guild,” the voice laughed derisively.  “And we ain’t worried about you.  Enjoy being something’s meal!”

As he heard the second portcullis slam shut as well, McBane whipped out his swords, his anger rising as he stared at the approaching amaroks.  “Oh, you should be,” he growled as he moved toward the beasts.  “I will be coming for you assholes!”

Aranos’ Overchanneled Zone of Speed hummed in the air, boosting the party’s movement as they raced north along the Trade Road.  Silma ranged ahead once more, while Rhys and Geltheriel jogged along below Aranos, who sped through the air above them with his Massless Flight Spell.  His Fatigued debuff gave him a minor movement penalty, but that didn’t apply to purely magical transport like his Spell.  The Flight Spell didn’t receive the movement boost from his Spell, of course, but he was fast enough in the air that it didn’t really matter, and speed was of the essence.  The sun was starting to descend toward the horizon, and Aranos was fairly certain that come sundown, the city’s gates would close. That, however, was only part of the reason he was airborne.

The other reason was currently squirming in his arms, mewling and purring as the wind rushing past stirred its glossy, golden fur.  The Redeemed cat in his arms was about a foot-and-a-half long, with fur that shone like molten metal, brilliant blue eyes, and a bushy tail that ended in a series of nubs Rhys assured Aranos would one day grow into spikes.  The cat had seemed perfectly content in Aranos’ arms when he picked it up and carried it out of the now-restored keep, and it enjoyed the attention Geltheriel and Rhys lavished upon it.

“Do you know what you have done, Liberator?” the Druid had whispered in an almost reverent tone as his fingers stroked the small cat’s thick fur.  “You have once more restored a lost race to this world!”

“This young one is a leonal, Oathbinder,” Geltheriel had informed him, her hand sliding along the cat’s glossy coat.  “His kind are to great cats what Silma’s race is to canines.  Leonals were lost in the Feast, just as the fenrins were, hunted to extinction by the Shadowborn.”

“He?” Aranos had repeated, belatedly lifting the cat up and glancing underneath it.  Yep, he.  You have to learn to check these things.  “Okay, he.  So, are these leonals Celestial, the way Silma is?”

“They are not, Liberator,” Rhys had shaken his head.  “And yet, they were implacable foes of the Darkness and hunted the Shadowborn at every opportunity.”  The Druid then sighed.  “And once again, I am present for something miraculous.  My thanks for this gift.”

Before leaving the keep, Aranos had stopped to cut a small disc of oilarie wood from the branch he carried in his pack.  Rhys then planted that disc in the newly Redeemed soil near the gleaming keep and cast a Spell over it.  Moments later, a small sapling burst from the soil, reaching and stretching toward the sun.  Branches erupted from the copper-brown bark, covered with the same oddly runic patterns that were etched into the widening trunk.  Moments later, shining, golden needles sprouted from shimmering buds along those branches, each shining with an internal radiance that brightened the keep even in the sunlight.  Several minutes passed before the Druid’s Spell ended, leaving an eight-foot-tall, aureate pine tree standing guard over the abandoned keep.

Just like the one Aranos had planted outside Antas, this oilarie would be dangerous or deadly to creatures of shadow.  Aranos was hoping that placing it on a hilltop would maximize not only the area its radiance illuminated but also the spread of its pollen, creating a zone that was reasonably safe from Shadowborn attacks.  This is exactly the kind of thing that would make a good bargaining chip in dealing with the Merchants’ Guild; they’d probably kill to have a safe waystation just a day’s travel south of the city.

While Rhys had cast his Spell, Aranos had taken a moment to look at his waiting notifications:

Quest Updated: To Redeem the Fallen
The Elder of the House of the Sickle has asked you to find and Redeem fallen lands or races.

Objective: Redeem a location or a race of plant, animal, or beast lost to the Feast of Virnal.

Difficulty: A

Objectives Completed: You have Redeemed a lost race (leonal)

Reward: 5000 XP, increased influence in elven lands, global reputation

Spell Boost!
Spell: Energy Barrage has gained a level

Energy Barrage*
New Rank: Expert 1

Unleash a series of powerful energy bursts at one or more targets.

Effect: Fire a globe of mana at any target in sight range.  When the globe impacts, it bursts and inflicts 8 – 14 LP damage to all targets in a 12’ blast radius.  (152 – 268 LP).  You can fire 5 globes per second and shift targets freely.  Damage and firing speed +1% per Spell level.
Cost: 275 SP per second

Evolved: You can switch aspect types freely.  Doing so reduces the firing rate to one per second for a full second, after which it returns to the normal rate.  Using destructive mana types will cause you LP damage as normal.

Expert Ranked: This Spell reduces any sort of Resistance to its effects by 25%.  This reduction stacks with other penalties to a target’s resistance. 

Say “Hello” to all my little friends…

Congratulations: You Have Leveled Up!
Sorcerer Ascendant Level: 11
Current XP: 191,176/210,000
Int +5, Wis +5, Cha +5, +5 Stat points

I am without peer!  Without sane peer, anyway…

Your Companion has gained a level!
Current Level: 18
Per +3, Agil +3, Other Stats +2, +5 Stat points to assign

Your Companion’s Wis Stat has exceeded 50!
Wis: 51

Benefit: All Wisdom-based Abilities are now 25% more effective.

New Outpost Available!
Darkwatch Keep, South Stoneleague Trade Road

Condition: Redeemed
Area: 6,814 square feet
Points Required: 187 (10% reduction due to Redeemed Condition, 3x cost for being in a separate region)

Outpost: This territory is in a separate region from your main city.  As such, all bonuses and defensive benefits your territory receives are reduced by 50% for this outpost, and adding effects to it requires 50% more Energy Points.

Do you wish to add this outpost (Yes/No)?

As always, Aranos dumped his Stat points into his Charisma.  It made the most sense for him, now that he could funnel Charisma points into his other Stats, and he was curious to see what the bonus for getting his Charisma to 200 would be. 

He hadn’t realized that he could claim territory that wasn’t adjacent to his city’s zone of control, but he’d gladly added the Keep to his growing realm.  When he’d pulled up his list of territories, he’d found that the Keep, as an outpost, could be given separate effects from his main territory for an additional cost, but for the moment, the triple point cost made all of those far too energy intensive.  He’d settled for the standard if weakened defenses inherent in all his lands and closed out the screen.

Part of Aranos had been a little disappointed that the leonal cub hadn’t bonded with him the way Silma had – at least, until he’d seen the fenrin’s reaction to the small feline.  This thing will be a hindrance to us, pack leader, she’d observed sourly, staring disapprovingly at the cub leaping around the clearing and chasing leaves being carried by the breeze.  It is weak, helpless, and too slow to keep up with us.  It will leave the path to chase every small object, and we will spend far too much time recovering it.

You’re right, we can’t trust him to follow us the way we could with you when you were smaller, Aranos had nodded to the fenrin.  Despite her seeming maturity, Silma was in many ways still very young, and Aranos could almost feel the jealousy rolling out from her at the attention the cub was receiving from the elves.  He figured it couldn’t hurt to remind the wolf why she was special, too.  He’s not my Companion, and I can’t depend on him the way I can you.  That’s why I’ll be carrying him as we travel; it’s probably the only way we’ll get back to Stoneleague today.

The fenrin had grunted silently, but Aranos had felt her pleasure at his praise of her.  I leveled up, she’d changed the subject.  Did you assign my Stat points yet?

I was waiting for your input.  What do you think?

Well, I could push my Dexterity over 50, but the only thing that’ll do is improve my critical hit chances.  Honestly, I’d rather keep boosting my Agility and Perception.  I’d like to get them both over a hundred.

Sounds good to me, he’d agreed, adding two points to her Agility and three to her Perception.  He was curious what her senses would be like when she finally hit 100 in Perception; these were naturally much better than a human’s or elf’s, and he was sure passing that milestone would have a far more significant impact for her than it did for him.

They’d left the hilltop after that; by Aranos’ reckoning, they would get back to the city less than an hour before sunset. They raced north, avoiding combat in the Blightlands, stopping only to let Aranos renew their Cloaks of Illusion before leaving the tree line.  Silma had wanted to stay out of the city – she hated her horse disguise – but Aranos convinced her to join them.  I’ll take the disguise off as soon as it’s dark, he promised.  Then you can roam the city or even slip outside if you can do it safely. 

The guards barely noticed them as they re-entered the city and made their way back to the Adventurers’ Guild, leaving Silma outside and promising to be quick.  Rhys and Geltheriel found a table in the tavern area and sat down, Geltheriel holding the leonal – I’m gonna have to name him at some point – while Aranos went back to Guildmaster Ryder’s office.  The hulking Brutus was absent this evening, and while Aranos got some strange looks as he bypassed the Quest lines, no one tried to stop him.

“Come in,” Ryder’s voice commanded when Aranos knocked, and the Sorcerer opened the door and stepped inside.  The old Archer’s face split with a grin and he rose to his feet as he saw Aranos.  “Oran, welcome back!” he said happily.  “I saw you took that Bounty Quest; you managed to kill two tigroons already?”

“We did,” he nodded, grinning.  “And then, because we were bored, we went ahead and killed the other four, too.  Where do you want the heads?”

“You killed all six?” Ryder repeated, blinking owlishly before shaking his head.  “That’s – surprising.  However, just in case, I was ready this time.”  He held out a large satchel.  “Just transfer them into here.  Less mess, and I’ll see them in my inventory.”

“Absolutely.  How do I do that?”

Ryder sighed.  “Travelers.  The man kills six tigroons but can’t transfer inventory.”  He barked a short laugh.  “Just touch the satchel and pull up your inventory.  You’ll see the option to transfer items.”

Aranos obediently followed the man’s instructions and noticed a new double-ended arrow on each of the graphical icons representing his inventory.  He focused on the rawondo heads and mentally clicked the icon; immediately, all six heads vanished from his inventory.  He frowned briefly; what if he’d only wanted to transfer some of the heads?  Would he have had to split them up first?  That would have been obnoxious.

“You didn’t want to do that, though, did you?” Veronica’s voice asked archly in his mind.

No, but I might have.

“And if you’d only wanted to transfer three, then only three would have transferred.  You keep forgetting that we’re reading your thoughts and intentions.  We know what you want to do in a situation like this, so we do it for you.”

Yeah, I didn’t think about that, he agreed.  Is that ever an issue when you don’t have the neural connectivity that I have with the pod, though?

“No, because it’s a surface thought.  The initial scan you did before entering the game was enough for us to pick those up.  It’s the deeper, subconscious stuff that we have trouble with – which is why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Six heads,” Ryder shook his head as he interrupted Aranos’ silent conversation.  “Well done, Oran.  Here’s the money you’ve earned – it’s not much, but honestly, the reputation you built with the Merchants’ Guild more than makes up for it.  Everything in the city will probably be cheaper for you, now.”  As the man spoke, notifications popped up that Aranos quickly read over:

Congratulations: You Have Leveled Up!
Sorcerer Level: 16
Current XP: 122,588/136,000
Int +3, Wis +3, Cha +3, +3 Stat points

You may call me Sorcerer Supreme-ish!

Your Companion has gained a level!
Current Level: 19
Per +3, Agil +3, Other Stats +2, +5 Stat points to assign

“Here’s hoping,” Aranos laughed, taking the offered coin pouch and adding it to the purse at his belt as he mentally allocated his Stat points into Charisma and divided Silma’s by putting 3 points into Agility and 2 into Perception.  “Anything else you need from me?”

“Not tonight,” the man shook his head.  “Come back tomorrow, though, and I’ll have more for sure.”

Aranos walked back out to the elves, who were sitting quietly and observing the tavern patrons.  Now that the gates were closed for the night, the place was quickly growing more crowded with Travelers who were talking animatedly about logout tomorrow morning.  Most seemed to be discussing what they’d be doing during their day IRL, while some were making plans for their next dive into the game.  Aranos sat down at the table with the elves, silently shaking his head; it really was hard to remember that Singularity was just a game and not his actual life sometimes, but obviously many of the other players weren’t having those issues.

“These Travelers are very strange,” Rhys observed quietly as Aranos sat down.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they considered our entire world nothing but entertainment, Liberator.”

Aranos shrugged.  “In a way, most of them do, to be honest.  Our own lives tend to be very unexciting and mundane, and your world is filled with danger, magic, and monsters.  Since we can’t die permanently here, facing those dangers is a form of entertainment for us.”

Geltheriel shook her head.  “I don’t understand that,” she admitted.  “You can leave this world whenever you’d like, and you can’t be permanently killed.  Where’s the excitement without consequences?”

“Well, there are consequences, both in this world and in ours,” he countered.  “There are people who do nothing but dive into other worlds for a living.  They craft valuable objects or find rare resources, then sell them to other Travelers for money in our world, or they become powerful here and hire themselves out as mercenaries or trainers for other Travelers.  Plus, we have a way of recording the things we do here, and we can sell those recordings to people who want to watch our adventures.”

“Recording?” Geltheriel asked, puzzled.  “What do you mean?”

“It’s like how you can use a memory stone to store a memory and then play it back for someone else.  In some worlds, we can do the same thing.  If we’re going into what we know is a big battle or a place that no one’s been before, we can record it, and people pay us money to be able to watch those memories, either to learn how we defeated our opponent or to see what the inside of that location is like.”

The elf woman looked sharply around, her face slightly outraged.  “What?  Others could be storing the image of me right now, and selling it back later?  Oathbin—Oran…”  She lowered her voice.  “I have bathed in front of the other female Travelers in our party!  If they can store those images…”

Aranos shook his head.  “No, we can’t do that here, at least, not yet,” he assured her.  “We haven’t been given the technology for that in Ka.”  He glanced at her curiously.  “Can’t someone do that to you now, though, if they wanted?  I mean, the baths in Eredain are communal, and anyone can buy a memory stone.”

Geltheriel sat speechless for a moment, her face growing beet red.  “They – why – how – they would not!” she hissed quietly in Elven, forgetting to speak in Human in her distress.  “Why would any elf ever store such a memory, and why would they sell it to another…?”  As she spoke, her face grew pale, and she put her hand over her mouth as realization struck her.

Rhys chuckled wryly, shaking his head.  “One observes that you may have just convinced Theria to never bathe again, Oran.  As both you and your Companion will be the ones most greatly affected by that thanks to your enhanced Perception, I find it quite amusing.  However, it is perhaps better that we let this line of thought lapse, before she makes destroying all memory stones her life’s new mission.”

“I have never even considered such a thing,” the woman said quietly in Human once more, her face pale.  “Do you think…surely, none of our people would do such a thing!”

“I haven’t heard of it happening,” Rhys admitted.  “However, I could see it existing.  It’s a disturbing thought but not an impossible one.”  He shook his head.  “One might suppose, though, that if there were those who made a living in such a way, they would have no reason to target you or I with their schemes, Theria, as neither of us are particularly remarkable for our beauty.”

“Speak for yourself,” the woman replied, seeming to slowly recover.  “I’ll bet there are thousands who’d pay – and pay well – for such memories of me, Reece.  Indeed, there’s probably someone who’d drop coin for such images of you, if for no other reason than to practice their Taunt Skill finding ways to belittle the memories.”

“I’m deeply wounded,” the Druid laughed.  “Or I would be if I ever sought that sort of attention.”  He shook his head.  “You’ve taken us deep into the cenzik’s warren, Oran.  Kindly lead us back out.”

“Well, we should probably get going,” the Sorcerer smiled.  “Silma’s waiting outside for us, and the longer she has to stand there, the grouchier she’ll be.  Plus, I wanted to stop back by the Mages’ College and see if Neela’s got an update for me.”

“There’s little need for all of us to go to the College,” Geltheriel pointed out.  “Reece and I will take Silma back to the Black Blade and await you there.  Will the charm you gave her allow her to remove the Spell upon her?”

Aranos frowned; he’d almost forgotten that Silma had a talisman that let her disjoin any Spell on her.  “I’m not sure,” he said slowly.  “I mean, it might, but it might not.  That Spell uses an Enhanced aspect, and the charm might not be powerful enough to undo it.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind attempting it,” Rhys chuckled.  “Multiple times, just to be certain.  She truly dislikes that Spell.”

“I’ll meet you back at Malcolm’s, then,” Aranos nodded, rising from the table with the others.  “Maybe McBane will be back there by now, if nothing else.”

Silvia and Avalyn weren’t at the main counter in the College when Aranos arrived, but the young man who addressed him as he entered was as polite and helpful as every other person he’d encountered in the antechamber.  “I’ll be happy to see if Student Neeva is available,” the black-haired man smiled at Oran.  “If you don’t mind waiting?”

“Not at all,” Aranos shook his head, stepping away from the counter and leaning against the wall.  He quickly pulled up his status as he did, examining it critically:

Aranos, Lord Evenshade, Master of Elements
Age: 26
Race: High Arcane
Adv. Class: Sorcerer Ascendant   XP: 200,176/210,000
Level: 11
Class: Sorcerer ​ ​ XP: 122,588/136,000
Level: 16
Profession: Hunter ​ XP: 875/1000
Level: 2
Abilities:

Str: 56 (96)     ​   Dex: 58 (98)     ​

Agil: 59 (99)   ​ End: 55 (95)
Int: 159 (204)   ​ Wis: 168 (213) ​

Per:   60 (105)       Cha: 178 (223)

LP: 3,080 /3,080       Regen: 222.2/s
SP: 38,452 /38,452   Regen: 222.2/s, 315.3/s meditating
Stamina: N/A

Soul Points: 154

His Charisma was getting close to 200; he needed three more levels of Sorcerer Ascendant or two levels of Sorcerer Ascendant and one of Sorcerer to get it above that, assuming he didn’t figure out another way to increase his Stats now that training wouldn’t help him anymore.  He frowned as he read over his status more carefully; at some point, he’d leveled up in his Hunter Profession, and he hadn’t even gotten a notification.  He pulled up his old notifications and ran a search query on them.  Sure enough, he’d gotten a notification, but he’d zipped right past it because all it did was increase his bonuses to Harvesting.  Apparently, Tracking the oroloke and tigroons had given him decent XP for the Profession, probably because they were an actual challenge for him. 

He dismissed his status and pulled up his friends list.  He rarely checked it, mostly because until that morning, Phil was the only person on his list, and for the first week and more in the game, he hadn’t been able to use the messaging system to contact the Paladin anyway.  The AIs limited private messages so that you could only contact someone in the same region as you.  Aranos wasn’t sure why they’d done that, but he thought it was because the different realms were supposed to be isolated from one another in Ka.  Easy contact between players in disparate kingdoms would take away from that and make each city seem less like an island in a sea of Darkness.

Neela had accepted his friend request but hadn’t contacted him about their missed appointment that morning, so he shot her a brief message telling her he was there and asking if she was available.  He probably should have done that earlier, but he’d been distracted – and, honestly, he just didn’t pay much attention to his messages or friends list.  In fact, he’d gotten a few messages from Phil that day, mostly just updates and screenshots of their adventures. 

He was chuckling at an image of Longfellow lying on his back in the dirt with a somewhat large kondinya standing on his chest, his crossbow jammed in its mouth – apparently, the creature had leapt completely over the tanks’ shield wall, going for Meridian, and Longfellow had jumped in the way only to find that the saurian was a lot stronger than it looked – when a shadow fell on him and caused him to open his eyes.  A black-robed figure was standing before the Sorcerer, staring severely at him with an expression that radiated irritation. 

“You are the Traveler Oran?” the Wizard asked a bit peremptorily.  The man was shorter than Aranos, with long, wavy black hair that was streaked with gray strands.  His face was dominated by a huge beard that fell down to his chest and had the same gray striations as his hair.  He was slightly heavy-set, a rarity in Ka from what Aranos had seen, and his fine, black robe had three red-orange bands wrapped about each sleeve just above the cuff.

“That’s me,” Aranos nodded carefully.  “I’m here to see Neela.”

“Student Neela is otherwise occupied.  You will come with me.”  The man turned and started walking away but stopped when he realized Aranos wasn’t following.

“Why?” the Sorcerer asked calmly, not moving from his spot and activating his Inspection Skill. 

Godfrey Steelhelm
Human
Unwounded

“Because I have ordered you to,” Godfrey replied in a frosty tone.  “You are in the Mages’ College, and you have agreed to obey the instructions of any full Wizard.”

“Only when I was with Neela,” Aranos corrected, his irritation rising at the man’s peremptory attitude.  “I’m not a member of your College, I don’t know that I have any interest in joining your College, and you don’t have any authority over me.  So, why should I go with you?”

Godfrey straightened, his face angry, and Aranos noticed the white-robed students drawing back, staring fearfully at the Wizard.  “I can think of three reasons,” the man said coldly.  “First, because failure to do so will result in punishment for Student Neela, as she vouched for you.  Second, because as I understand it, you made a rather extreme request of the College, and I can guarantee that it will never happen if you remain intransigent.”  The man leaned forward, his eyes flashing dangerously.  “And third, because if you don’t come willingly, I’ll drag you.”

Aranos felt a sudden heat rise in the room, but he reached out with his High Mastery Ability and quelled it, spending a few dozen SP as the Wizard’s Spell tried to resist his control.  Godfrey’s eyes suddenly widened, and Aranos shook his head.  “I’ll come with you,” he said with a grimace.  “I’m only coming because I don’t want Neela to get in trouble, though.  If you don’t help me, I’ll find another way to get what I need, and as you’ve just seen, it’ll be a lot harder for you to make me do anything than you probably think – and there’ll be consequences, since I’ve got solid reputation with the Adventurers’ Guild, Merchants’ Guild, Guards, and the King himself. 

“However, just so we’re clear: I’m coming in as a guest and expect to be treated as one.  If you offer me any sort of aggression or hostility, I’ll respond in kind, and that’s the sort of thing that will get an awful lot of people killed.  Neither one of us wants that, do we?”  His first trip to the House of Blades flashed through his mind; they’d thought he was the one killing elders in the city and had treated him like a criminal.  It hadn’t gone well – at least, it wouldn’t have, had Saphielle not stepped in and defused the situation.

The man’s eyes blazed, but he reluctantly nodded.  “No, we don’t,” he admitted.  “If it makes you feel better, I can tell you that you’re being summoned to meet the Headmaster.  He wishes to speak to you about your request, certain abilities you’ve demonstrated, your manipulation of our warding, and the fact that you introduced one of our students to advanced training methods without our consent.  As far as I know, he only wants to advise you of our rules and verify your skills, nothing more.”

“In that case, I’m happy to meet with him,” Aranos smiled, stepping forward.  “And if you’d led with that instead of issuing demands or threatening me, this all would have gone more smoothly.  Just something to consider for the future.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Godfrey grunted.  “Follow me.”

The Wizard led Aranos through one of the hidden doors and into the Hall of the Unformed.  The man stopped before the guardian barrier and glanced at Aranos.  “I was told that you altered this Spell to allow an individual to pass through it freely,” he said shortly.  “I’ve been instructed to have you show me how.”  Aranos simply stared at him, one eyebrow raised, and the man sighed in obvious frustration.  “Please.”

“Of course,” Aranos nodded, extending his mana probe to the hanging Spell.  He frowned briefly; it had been altered since his last visit.  The attunement portion of the Spell was masked, now, hidden behind what looked like an attack Spell of some sort.  He studied it carefully and realized that it wasn’t particularly dangerous; it was a lash of Mind magic that would temporarily incapacitate anyone who tried to alter the attunement portion of the barrier in any way. 

Fortunately, he was fairly resistant to Mind magic, so it probably just would have given him a minor headache, but there was no need to find out.  He shifted the hanging attack, sliding it out of his way with an effort of will and a not inconsiderable amount of SP – whoever’d cast that had been skilled at Mind magic, and he kind of wanted to meet them and ask them about it – then more cautiously examined the exposed attunement spellform. 

As he’d suspected, a second Spell was hiding below the first, lurking in wait for someone who was incautious enough to believe the first trap had been the main one.  Aranos had a feeling something like that would be there; the first Spell was obvious, and the College had to realize that he had access to Mind magic and would be able to sense it.  He slid the second Spell aside as well, examined the remaining construct more closely, then slipped a connection into the attunement Spell that locked it open for him, dumping significant SP into the tether.  He guessed it would last for about a week, and it would take a considerable amount of effort for someone to sever it, now.

“All done,” he turned back to Godfrey with a smile.

“Prove it,” the man grunted.  Aranos remained still, and Godfrey shook his head.  “Please.”

“No problem.”  Aranos walked forward and stepped through the barrier, back over it, and through it again, repeating this several times.  “Is that proof enough?”

“Technically, it only shows me that you can channel SP very quickly, nothing more.  Allow me entry instead, if you would.”

“Sure,” Aranos replied, reaching back out to the Spell and snapping a tether from the Wizard to the barrier, one that would last for no longer than a few minutes.  As he did, his mental probe touched on the man’s surface thoughts, and Aranos gained a sense of Godfrey’s emotions.  The Wizard was frustrated, angry – and a little bit afraid.  Aranos understood the first two, but the reason for the last escaped him…unless Godfrey wasn’t afraid of Aranos but of something or someone else.

He resisted the urge to probe deeper; the Wizard might sense that, and if he did, he’d probably assume Aranos was attacking him.  That would cause a struggle, and while Aranos thought he could win – after all, it seemed that Godfrey was a Pyromancer or Fire specialist and Aranos could use both the Ash and Arctic aspects, Fire’s hard counters – it would also probably permanently slam the gates to the Mages’ College in his face.  Getting their help would be the easiest way for him to proceed in his Quest, and he didn’t want to burn that bridge if he didn’t have to.

“All right, you’re all set for about five minutes,” he finally told the waiting Wizard.  “You can just walk through the barrier, no SP needed.”  Godfrey looked suspiciously at him.  Rather than stepping forward, he reached out his hand cautiously, and his eyes widened as his hand passed smoothly through the wall without resistance.  He stepped forward, passing through the Spell, then stepped back and repeated the process. 

“How did you do that?” he asked quietly, staring at the wall.  “The Spell is designed so that any full Wizard can grant another passage through it, but that’s an integral part of the spellform.  You obviously changed it somehow.”

Aranos shook his head.  “I didn’t change anything,” he corrected.  “I just bypassed the Spell’s trigger.”  Godfrey looked unconvinced, and Aranos smiled.  “Do you know how the barrier works?”

“Yes.  It creates a wall of unaspected mana that resists passage.  However, applying SP to the Spell links you to it and makes you part of the Spell for a few seconds, so you can ignore it.”

“Well, not exactly, but close enough.  Technically, the more SP you add, the longer that attunement will last; you could stay attuned for an hour or so with almost four-thousand points of mana if you wanted.  All I did was create that same link externally.  It takes less SP, because so much mana is lost to the Spell as waste, and it lasts longer.  I didn’t alter anything, though…unlike whoever set the traps for me this time around.”

“Traps?” the man asked, puzzled.  “What are you talking about?”

Aranos glanced at him; he seemed genuinely confused.  “Nothing important.  Should we go see your Headmaster, now?”

“Yes.  Yes, He’s waiting for us.”  Godfrey glanced back at the barrier.  “Follow me, please.”

Godfrey led Aranos past the Hall, which was much less crowded at this time of day, and through the double doors at the end of it.  They entered a long hallway with multiple doors on each side, all firmly shut.  Aranos was tempted to ask the Wizard what was inside, but he had a feeling the man wouldn’t be the best tour guide for him.  He followed Godfrey through the halls, down several corridors and up a few staircases.  They passed curious-looking students and impassive Wizards, but Godfrey didn’t even make eye contact with these, much less speak to them.  Maybe it’s not me, the Sorcerer thought silently.  Maybe he’s just a natural douche, and I was lucky enough to be the recipient of it today.  Yay, me.

They stopped before an ornate door that Aranos identified as truesilver inlaid with runes of auril.  He could feel the Enchantments radiating from it and cast his mental probe out to test the door.  It was warded, of that there could be no doubt, and that warding was one of the most elaborate and tightly woven ones Aranos had ever seen.  He thought he could probably pick it apart, given several days’ time, but he certainly wasn’t about to penetrate it anytime soon.  Even so, he could see that it was designed to be attuned to specific individuals, allowing them to pass freely – or to certain objects, from the look of it.

As if to validate the Sorcerer’s appraisal, Godfrey reached into his robe and pulled out what looked like a dully glowing crystal.  He touched it to the door, and Aranos felt the wards withdraw for a moment, allowing the man to pull the door open.  That’s a pretty serious security flaw, Aranos frowned silently as he followed the Wizard into a small, circular room whose walls were etched with glowing runes.  Anyone who steals one of those crystals can get through this door with ease.  It’d be smarter to temporarily add someone to the attuned list than to give out a key like that.

Aranos realized at the last instant what was about to happen as he felt Dimensional magic spill out of the walls and fill the room.  He quickly locked his eyes on a point on the wall as he felt a surge of energy wash through him, and suddenly he was standing in a large, plain room that looked like a typical waiting room.  The walls were unadorned and lined with padded, wooden benches.  A single, stone door etched with more runes was set into one wall, with a desk placed beside it and a dark-haired woman in a black robe seated behind the desk.

Aranos barely noticed these things, as he was too busy trying to keep the contents of his stomach in place.  Portal magic didn’t bother him, but for whatever reason, direct teleportation Spells just didn’t seem to agree with him.  He closed his eyes, taking shallow breaths and trying not to expel the fluids churning in his stomach for several long moments.  At last, he mastered himself and felt the wave of sickness pass.

He opened his eyes as his stomach settled and found Godfrey staring impatiently at him.  “Are you recovered?” the man snapped.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Aranos swallowed once more.  “I don’t teleport well.”

“Not a common complaint, but not unheard-of,” the woman sitting behind the desk spoke, beckoning the two to come closer.  Aranos walked forward and saw that the woman’s pale blonde hair was long, sleek, and pulled back tightly into a tail behind her head.  Her face was narrow and pretty, with wide, dark eyes and overly full lips.  “You are the Traveler Oran?” she asked, a hint of a smile playing around her mouth.

“That’s me,” he smiled back at her easily, recovering his composure.  “I understand I’m in a bit of trouble.”

“Perhaps,” she said evenly, still wearing that half-smile.  “I suppose it depends on your behavior.  Are you planning on behaving yourself?”  She glanced up at Godfrey, who was looking at the woman with a confused expression.  “You may go, Wizard Steelhelm,” she said dismissively.  “You’ve performed this extremely simple duty admirably.”

“My report…,” the man stammered, but she cut him off with a wave.

“You and your charge were observed closely.  We have the information we needed, thank you.”

“Yes, Director Tiernan,” Godfrey bowed his head slightly. “Good day.”  The Wizard stalked off toward a rune set into the floor where he and Aranos had appeared and stood on it.  A moment later, the man vanished in a flash of light.

“So, you are the infamous Oran,” the woman smiled at Aranos, placing her elbows on her desk and resting her chin on her folded hands.  Her black robe, he noticed, had four bands on the sleeve, two of gleaming copper and two that looked like burnished steel.  “You’ve caused quite the commotion, you know.”

“I certainly wasn’t trying to,” he shrugged.  “I was just trying to help out.  I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble.”

The woman laughed, a clear and rich sound.  “Sadly, you did anyway.  That seems to be a common theme with you Travelers; you often cause more trouble on accident than we natives can create deliberately.”  She shook her head and gave him a direct look.  “Too bad you never cause trouble of the right kind.” 

Aranos almost flinched as he realized that his Charisma was probably affecting the woman – unless, of course, she was always this direct with people, which he doubted based on the odd look Godfrey had given her.  He felt a flash of annoyance, but he set it aside as a thought occurred to him.  She probably knows what’s going on, he reasoned silently.  I wonder if my Charisma can weasel the information out of her.  Worth a shot.

“You know, Director Tiernan, you never told me if I’m really in trouble or not,” he smiled, leaning over her desk.  He quickly Inspected the woman.  “Or should I call you Savannah?”

“You Inspected me, naughty boy,” the woman breathed, leaning farther forward.  “Savannah is fine.  And as for trouble…would you like to be?”

“That depends on who’s punishing me,” he said easily, deliberately looking into her eyes.  At the same time, he thought about Saphielle, about the feel of her skin and the smell of her hair.  Longing raged through him, and he held onto that feeling as he gazed into the Wizard’s eyes, feeling a surge of shame that he forced down.  My Charisma is a weapon, he told himself firmly.  Saphielle would want me to use all of my weapons, even the ones that make me uncomfortable.

Savannah seemed to shiver and closed her eyes as a flush rose in her cheeks.  She drew a deep, shuddering breath and opened her eyes, gazing at Aranos with a look that promised any number of things.  “You want me to punish you?” she breathed, leaning farther forward and sliding one hand out to touch his.  “I might – but only if you punish me in return…”

“I believe that’s sufficient,” a thin, wavering voice spoke as the sealed door suddenly swung open.  “Traveler, please stop attempting to seduce my assistant and step into my office.  Director Tiernan, please take some time to compose yourself, then join us.”

Aranos grinned at the woman and shrugged, but she held his gaze and bit her lip.  “Later…” she breathed, stroking his hand gently.  A thrill of sensation fluttered through Aranos, but he tamped it down.  He wasn’t actually interested in the woman – well, not really, despite her beauty – and he wouldn’t pursue it any farther.  He’d just wanted to see if he could use his Charisma to get more information.  Maybe if you’d actually asked her some questions instead of making stupid innuendos, you’d have found out, he chided himself.  Oh well.  He’d try that next time.

He stepped away from her desk and walked cautiously into a large, spacious office.  The ceiling was open to the sky, allowing the last, few rays of the day’s sunlight to seep into the space.  The walls were covered with bookshelves and hung with smaller versions of the tapestries in the main hall, and the stone floor was concealed beneath a thick rug.  A large desk was the main piece of furniture in the room, inscribed with runes that Aranos recognized – one for each Primary aspect – plus some that he didn’t and assumed were the Enhanced aspect runes. 

A bench was placed against one wall, with two figures seated on it.  Neela and Avalyn looked utterly downcast; both sat with their heads bowed, and Neela’s face was tearstained while Avalyn’s was creased with a scowl.  Figures stood to each side of the desk; Aranos recognized Dean Rocherres from the Air College glaring at him, but he didn’t know the man with iron-gray hair and six gold stripes on his sleeve or the emaciated-looking, bald one with an identical number of metallic silver ones on his robe. 

Most of that, though, he noticed merely in passing; his attention was focused on the person sitting behind the desk.  The man was positively ancient-looking, with deep, brown skin heavily lined with wrinkles, a snow-white beard, and matching hair, both trimmed neatly.  His robe was immaculately neat and spotless, with seven prismatic, multihued bands that sparkled and glimmered in the light.  Power radiated out from his gray eyes, not the energies of Primary or even Enhanced mana but a deeper, more potent power that reminded Aranos of the hidden oceans of mana deep within him that he was yet unable to touch.  In the face of that presence, Aranos felt a bit cowed for one of the few times in the game.

Bands of air suddenly whipped out from Rocherres’ upraised hand, snapping and binding around Aranos, pinning him in place and gagging his mouth.  He stared at the gathered Wizards with a rising mixture of anger and despair; they’d set a trap for him, and he’d walked right into it.  There was no way he could defeat all of them.

But he could certainly take some of them with him as he went.

Chapter 15

Aranos’ eyes blazed as fury rose in him, and he began summoning a vacuum blade to sever the bindings when the elderly man raised a hand.

“Now, now, Lucie,” the old man said a in thin voice.  “That’s hardly necessary, and certainly no way to treat a guest in our school.”

“Headmaster Mandla, this man has access to the Mind aspect,” she protested in her crisp voice.  “He’s known to be friendly with the elves, and we don’t know his purpose in our city!  He could easily control any of us…”

“Not any of us,” the bald man contradicted in a wispy sort of voice.  “I’ll know if he tries anything like that, Dean Rocherres, and I’ll stop him.”

“And while I appreciate your presence, Dean Greghoff, I will feel more secure if this man can’t cast a single Spell,” Rocherres snapped back.

The Headmaster laughed, a reedy sort of sound.  “That’s the issue, though, Lucie.  The bindings you’ve created won’t do anything to stop a Sorcerer from using his magic.”  He looked at Aranos calmly.  “That’s what you are, isn’t it?  A Sorcerer?”  Aranos nodded his head, and the Headmaster chuckled.

“There.  His powers are driven by his will, Lucie, not by incantations and wiggling his fingers.  I’m betting he could escape your bindings right now.  Couldn’t you?”  Aranos nodded again.  The Headmaster looked at Dean Rocherres, but the older woman’s jaw was clamped tightly.  The man sighed.  “Very well.  Please demonstrate, Sorcerer – but nothing beyond freeing yourself, you understand?”

Aranos quickly used his Forge Mana Spell to craft a blade of Vacuum mana and slashed his bindings, severing them instantly.  He shifted his shoulders and shook his arms as they came free, loosening them up, but otherwise stood calmly and silently.  Dean Rocherres’ face was outraged, but her gaze was speculative as she stared at him.

“There, you see?  Sorcerers!” the Headmaster laughed.  “You’ll have to forgive my colleagues, Traveler.  Your kind hasn’t been seen in this city in centuries, and the College has mostly forgotten about them.”

“Not all of us,” the gray-haired man murmured in a deep voice.

“True, Radomil, true,” the Headmaster acknowledged.  “You were the one who recognized young Avalyn’s Class, after all, and helped us make the connection.”  He looked up at Aranos calmly.  “Please, have a seat.”  He gestured, and a soft chair suddenly swirled into existence in front of the desk.  Aranos hesitantly sat down, keeping half an eye on the standing Wizards towering around him. 

As he did, the door behind him opened, and Savannah slipped into the room, taking a seat behind the Headmaster and to his left.  The woman took out a jewel that Aranos recognized as a memory stone and held it in her hand, flashing Aranos another smoldering glance before closing her eyes and seeming to slip into some sort of trance.  “I’m ready, Headmaster,” her voice spoke in a whisper that seemed to come from everywhere in the room at once.  Aranos quickly reached out to her with a tendril of mana and found a weave of Soul and Spirit magic emanating from her and filling the room.  Astral mana, he thought curiously.  Wonder what she’s doing with it?

The Headmaster cleared his throat, and Aranos refocused on the old man.  “I understand that I’m not as pleasing to look at as Director Tiernan,” the old man chuckled softly.  “And my magic probably isn’t as fascinating for you to examine, but if you’ll retract that extremely subtle probe you’re using, we really should begin.”  Aranos did as the man asked, trying to conceal his surprise.  The Headmaster was the first person who’d ever detected his mana probe; the Sorcerer had honestly thought it was undetectable. 

“Thank you.  First, let me commend you on the skill of the illusion you’ve wrapped around yourself.  While I can see the reality beneath it – it’s impossible to conceal much from me within my own Domain, including slender threads of magic – I wouldn’t have realized it was a false identity from outside that boundary.  Is that something you were taught, or did you work it out yourself?”

Aranos hesitated, but he honestly couldn’t see anything to be gained by lying at this point.  The Headmaster obviously knew who he was – thus Rocherres’ comment about elves earlier – and he had a feeling either the Headmaster or the bald-headed dean would sense any lies, anyway.  “I created it,” he finally answered.  “That’s how it works for Sorcerers.  We can’t teach one another anything but the most basic Spells; everything after that, you have to work out on your own.”

“That agrees with what I’ve read,” Radomil spoke up.  “Sorcerers craft Spells, they don’t learn them.”

“Well, it was most excellently done,” the Headmaster nodded, then sighed.  “Now that the obligatory praise is out of the way, we must discuss some rather less pleasant business.  I must ask: did you teach Student Neela the method of training her Stats using a mana crystal?” 

“Yes,” Aranos nodded.

“Did you know that we prohibit students from learning that technique?” the Headmaster asked, his voice gaining a slight edge.

“I didn’t know.  I suspected that you withheld that training from them, but I didn’t know that it was forbidden.  The elves teach it to beginning students, and I didn’t see the harm.”

“You are honest, at least,” the Headmaster sighed.  “Before I explain, you may be wondering how we knew your identity, yes?”

“I assume Neela told you,” he shrugged.  “Probably because you threatened to expel her if she didn’t.”

“That particular threat didn’t work, I’m afraid.  Student Neela wasn’t willing to share your secret and would have accepted expulsion rather than betray you, so further steps were needed.  As you surely understand, no secret is truly safe from the Followers of the Unseen like Dean Greghoff, here.” 

Aranos turned his eyes to glance over at the disconsolate Neela and understood; a Wizard had read her thoughts – probably this very Wizard – and she was doubtlessly a little overwhelmed at realizing how much access the AIs had to her mind.  It had taken his party a bit of time to get used to the idea, too, once they’d learned that Lily could enter their dreams almost at will.

“In any case, Traveler, thanks to the information she provided, I am certainly aware of who taught you that technique.  While I understand that the elves begin its usage early in a student’s life, we do not, and for good reason.  Young Wizards are often impatient and have difficulty controlling their mana.  I am certain you are aware of the possible consequences if someone uses that technique and is too close to a crystal or attempts too much, too quickly?” 

“Mana Burn, or even permanent damage to your channels,” Aranos nodded. 

“Then you will understand why we hold off on that training until our students are Adepts at Mana Manipulation to avoid that very issue.”

Aranos frowned.  “Why Manipulation rather than Control?” he asked quietly.

“Ah, yes, the elves rank their members by their Mana Control Skill.  I’d almost forgotten that.  Well, we favor Manipulation over Control for an excellent reason, and it is likely not what your instructors told you it is.

“Mana Manipulation is not merely about casting the largest, most powerful Spell you can.  It is about making every Spell as effective and efficient as possible, allowing you to use less SP to achieve a similar result.  The gods’ words tell us that increasing Mana Manipulation increases Spell Power, but what they do not say is that increased Spell Power means you can create an effect using less SP than normal.  If my Spells are 50% more effective, for example, then I can create an effect with standard power for only two-thirds of the normal SP cost.

“At the same time, having increased Mana Manipulation reduces the chance of a Spell destabilizing or backfiring on you or affecting a target you didn’t intend,” he added.  “Do you understand all of this?”

“Yes,” Aranos nodded.  He actually did see the man’s point.  He hadn’t thought about it that way and had just assumed that the College wanted its practitioners to make the biggest, most powerful Spells instead of taking the time to master and control the mana inside them, first.  However, the Headmaster’s perspective made sense; Wizards with better Mana Manipulation could cast Spells that wasted less SP and could create normal-powered effects using less mana, with a lower likelihood of something going wrong.  It was an interesting take on spellcasting, and his estimation of the College went up a few notches.

“Good.  Then you shouldn’t protest when I forbid you from instructing any other student at this College in that technique or face expulsion and banishment from the College.  There will be no further warnings.  Am I clear?”  Aranos nodded.

“That’s settled, then.  Now, my next question.  Did you show Student Avalyn how to touch her mana and teach her a Spell?” 

“I did,” he replied, his chin raised a bit defiantly.  “She’s not a Wizard, and none of your classes were going to work for her.  I showed her how to touch her mana so she could get through the barrier in the main hall – since when I tried to help her another way, I found that she’d been punished for allowing me to do that – and taught her the most basic Spell of Sorcery.  If that’s a problem…”

The Headmaster stopped his rising tirade with an upraised hand. “You misunderstand me, Traveler.  For what you’ve done, you have my thanks.” 

Aranos’ surprise must have shown on his face, since the Headmaster’s expression twisted into one of sorrow.  “Did you believe we weren’t trying to instruct her, Traveler?” he asked simply.  “That we would keep her here for these weeks and not make every effort to help her?  What could have given you such a low opinion of our school?”

“I…,” Aranos stopped.  He had thought that.  He’d assumed that the girl hadn’t immediately taken to the schooling and the teachers had abandoned her at once – and that wasn’t fair.  He hadn’t had a single reason to think badly of the College.  “I’m sorry,” he said at last.  “You’re right; I jumped to a conclusion, and it wasn’t a fair one.  I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Apology accepted,” the Headmaster nodded.  “I will ask, though, that you give us the benefit of the doubt.  I understand that we do things differently than where you trained, and for most people, anything different is worse or wholly wrong.  However, I assure you that we of the College wish Avalyn to succeed as much as you seem to, if not more so.  In fact, I will ask you to tell me what you taught her, so we can continue that instruction.  Is that acceptable?”

“I – I wish I could, but…”

“You would rather keep your methods a secret than help the girl?  That surprises me…”  The Headmaster’s voice gained a definite cold edge.

“No, it’s not that,” Aranos assured the man hurriedly.  “It’s just that – well, I don’t think you can teach her, no matter what.”

“Child, we have been using magic since before you were born,” Dean Rocherres snapped.

Technically not true, since you’re only a few months old.  “I appreciate that,” he replied, his own voice going a bit cool.  “Tell her how to create her fractals, then.”  The Wizard looked confused, and Aranos pressed further.  “Teach her the correct spin rates to aspect her mana.  How to configure her spirals to accommodate energy mana.  Can you do any of that?”

The Headmaster sighed.  “You have made your point, Sorcerer,” he nodded.  “I know more about magic than anyone else in this school, and I have never heard of what you’re talking about.  It seems our skills are far less closely related than I believed.”  He frowned.  “Could we speak of this more later?  I don’t want her progress to stagnate, or for her to become frustrated again.”

“If you’d like,” Aranos nodded. 

“Good.  That brings us to the final matter.  The barrier, and your…adjustments to it.”  He leaned forward.  “Tell me about that, please.”

“Well, Avalyn couldn’t get through, and Neela was going to find a teacher.  That seemed like a waste of time to me when I could adjust it to allow her entry…”

“No, Traveler.  Not your reasons.  Those I understand.  I’m curious as to your methods.  How did you do that?”

“I’d ask if you know how it works, but that seems like…well, a dumb question to ask you.”

“Assume nothing, Traveler.  Treat me as you would Avalyn.”

“Umm, okay.”  Aranos shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware that every eye was on him.  “The barrier below is a construct of unaspected mana designed to prevent entry.  It’s not the best way to do it – unaspected mana is extremely brittle, and the barrier could probably be broken by someone with a Strength over 50 – but it works, more or less. 

“The barrier’s linked to a weave of Mind mana,” he continued, ignoring the startled looks on two of the three deans’ faces and the angry expression on the third.  “There’s an activation site in the spellform that acts like a receiver; it accepts outside mana and uses that to create a mental link between the donor of that mana and the Spell.  So long as that link is active, the unaspected mana won’t solidify in front of you.”  He shrugged.  “It’s not the way I would have done it, but it’s functional.”

“Why wouldn’t you have done it that way?” the Headmaster asked mildly.

“Well, for one thing, the Spell is pretty wasteful.  If you add a single SP to it, you’re attuned for a few seconds.  If you add a hundred SP, though, you aren’t attuned for a minute.  A significant amount of that mana is being lost somewhere in the Spell.  The more you add, the more you lose.  Even so, with enough SP, you could link yourself to it for a week if you wanted, and what’s the point of that?

“For another, the mental link isn’t necessary.  If you required the caster to touch the barrier when they added mana, the Spell could simply read that person’s mental patterns and attune them to the Spell for a specified time, say five seconds, and get the same result without the tether.  If it were me, though, I’d simply make it permanent; once someone attuned themselves to the barrier, they stayed attuned until I removed them.  After all, the Spell’s obviously meant to be a test more than an actual ward, since any decently leveled melee Class could just smash through it.  Why force them to retake the same test over and over again?”

“Interesting,” The Headmaster nodded, glancing at the bald Wizard.  “Dominik?”

“He’s mistaken,” the man said flatly, his voice no longer airy or light. “The Spell doesn’t use Mind mana of any sort.  Perhaps because I cast it, it seems that way, as my mana is heavily infused with the Mind aspect, but no actual Mind mana was used in the making of it.”

“Indeed?”  the Headmaster turned to Aranos.  “Could that be the case, Traveler?  Could you be so mistaken?”

As Aranos opened his mouth to speak, he felt a sudden pressure around his mind, as if someone were squeezing the defensive barrier of his Fortitude Skill.  He winced at the power of it and instinctively cast his Shield Mind Spell; as the construct of mental energy swirled into place, the force on his thoughts eased.  He frowned but didn’t look at the bald-headed dean; the man had just tried to cast a Mind-based Spell of some kind on Aranos, and he’d apparently done it without needing to use gestures or utter a sound.  So, it is possible for Wizards to cast like that.  That’s good to know; I can’t assume that Paralyzing a Wizard incapacitates them anymore.  

“No, Headmaster, that’s not possible,” he said firmly, still refusing to look at the dean.  Most people weren’t aware when a Spell of the Mind aspect was directed at them, and he didn’t want to give away to the dean that he could sense the man’s attempt.  To be safe, though, he reached out to the dean with a silent probe, feeling for any other use of Mind energies.  The Headmaster’s eyes narrowed, then darted over to look at Dean Greghoff, and an expression of understanding seemed to cross his face.

“Are you certain?” the old man pressed, his voice now holding an edge of anger.

“I am,” Aranos said confidently.  “If you want proof, I can give you some.  First, I used a tether of Mind mana to breach the Spell.  That wouldn’t have worked if the entire Spell were unaspected, because Mind mana doesn’t interact with most other forms of mana.  That’s why it ignores magical shielding and physical armor. 

“Second, I’ve got that same tether linked to the Spell right now.  If you have a way to detect Mind mana, you can see it for yourself.”

“Impossible,” the bald man sneered.  “To hold a tether over this distance, you’d have had to use thousands of Mind SP…”  The man trailed off and blanched as he realized what he’d said.

“I believe you should stop speaking for the moment, Dominik,” the Headmaster said firmly. “As it turns out, I do have a device for sensing Mind mana.  Would you like me to use it to prove this Traveler’s claim?  I could also simply examine the barrier with it – which I should have done long ago, I suppose.”  His mouth twisted sourly.  “More the fool me for being trusting.  Well, Dominik?  What will it be?”

The bald man went pale and stared at the Headmaster, glancing furtively at the enraged faces of the other two deans.  His mouth opened and closed for a moment before snapping shut.  He drew himself up to his full height, and his eyes flashed with defiance as he spoke.  “Very well.  Yes, I employed Mind mana in the creation of the barrier.”

“Despite the prohibition on using Mind Spells on any member of this school except for instructional purposes?” the Headmaster asked calmly, although Aranos could feel the anger radiating out from him.  “Despite your frequent assurances that the barrier does not, in fact, contain Mind mana?”

“Yes,” Greghoff said, his chin still raised defiantly.  “I spent most of a year researching that Spell, Headmaster, as you know.  I made every attempt to weave it without Mind magic, but there simply wasn’t a way to cast it otherwise.”

“Then why didn’t you just come to me and tell me that?” the old man asked patiently.  “Why lie?”

“Because this College is unfairly prejudiced against the School of the Unseen,” Greghoff snapped.  “We’re treated as pariahs, despite being an Upper School, and our magic is feared and shunned.  If I’d told everyone that Mind magic was necessary for the Spell, people would have avoided the barrier for fear of it taking over their minds or controlling their thoughts.”

The Headmaster sighed and shook his head.  “Those fears aren’t unwarranted, as you know, Dominik.  Still, if you had come to me, I would have been happy to help you find a Spell that didn’t need Mind mana.”  He took a deep breath.  “Return to your office, Dominik.  I’ll have to think about this.”

The bald man opened his mouth as if to speak, but the Headmaster held up a warning hand.  “Before you say anything to make things worse, Dominik, consider this.  As you said, there’s a lot of fear and paranoia about your school, and this won’t help that situation.  When everyone finds out that they’ve been subjected to Mind magic without their knowledge, how will they react?  Despite the fact that there was obviously no influence or attempt to influence, there will be demands for explanations – and likely for punishment.  You’ve just reinforced the very stereotype you’re telling me is unfairly applied to your school, Dominik: that all Followers of the Unseen are manipulative and secretive, not to be trusted.” 

The bald man paled at those words but bit his lip and hung his head.  “I – I hadn’t considered that people might see it that way,” he admitted.  “I thought that once they saw how harmless it was…”

“And my belief in that is the only reason you’re not currently packing to leave,” the Headmaster agreed.  “However, you understand that I will have to take some action.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” the man said weakly, his face still pale.

“Good.  Return to your school, Dominik.  We’ll speak more of this later.”  Aranos sat silently as the bald man filed out of the room, but he didn’t miss the flash of hatred the dean shot his way before exiting.  Well, I visit another Mage Guild and I make another enemy.  Hopefully, this one won’t turn out to be as insane as Keryth was.

“Thank you for your assistance, Traveler,” the Headmaster said quietly.  “In return for the aid you’ve given us, let me introduce Dean Radomil Janeczek, head of the School of the Fathomless, the College of Spatial magic.  I believe you wished to speak to him?”  The Headmaster held a hand out toward the man with iron-gray hair, who inclined his head politely toward Aranos.

“Yes, sir,” Aranos replied leaning forward with excitement.  “Dean Janeczek, I wanted to ask you about…”

The gray-haired man held up a hand with a smile.  “Hold, Traveler,” he chuckled.  “I’m sure you have questions for me, but I’ve got many of my own for you, and this is hardly the place for that sort of discussion.”  He turned back to the Headmaster.  “Do you still require the Traveler, Headmaster?”

“Yes,” the old man said a bit deprecatingly.  “I know you’re anxious to ply him for the secrets of Sorcery, but he and I must speak in private.  I will send him to you once we are finished.”

“Of course, Headmaster.  I’ll be in my office.”  The man held up a hand, and his form wavered and vanished. 

The Headmaster turned to look at Neela and Avalyn.  “I trust you’ve both learned a lesson about keeping secrets from the College?”  Both women nodded silently.  “Very well, then I consider this matter to be concluded.  You may both return to your quarters to continue your studies.  Student Neela, you have my permission to use the channeling technique the Traveler taught you, but only with your own mana, not with the air crystal until you’ve reached Adept ranks.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” the woman said meekly.

“Excellent.  Student Avalyn, please wait in my antechamber, as I’ll need to speak to you about your training when we’re all done here.” 

“Yes, Headmaster,” the teen muttered sullenly. 

When the teen shut the door behind her, the old Wizard looked up at the air overhead.  “Return, please, Savannah.”

“Of course, Headmaster,” the woman’s ethereal voice filled the room.  A moment later, her body took a deep breath, and her eyes flashed open.

“Did Dean Greghoff employ Mind magic toward the Traveler?” the Headmaster asked the woman sharply.

“Yes, Headmaster,” she nodded.  “The Traveler resisted it, however.  His presence in Arethain is – potent.”  The woman shivered.

“Arethain?” Aranos asked curiously.

“The realm of Astral mana,” Savannah replied throatily.  “Do you have use of Astral mana?”

“Actually, yes,” he said a bit hesitantly.

“Then perhaps, sometime, I could teach you,” she told him with a smile.  “This world is very – mundane compared to Arethain.”

“I’d like that,” Aranos smiled back.

“And I would like to speak to the Traveler alone, if I might,” the Headmaster snorted.  “Savannah, please keep an eye on Dominik for me.  While I’m certain that he means no harm to anyone in this school…”  He glanced at Aranos, and the woman nodded.

“I’ll take care of it, Headmaster,” she assured him.  She turned and looked directly at Aranos.  “Oran.”  Her hand trailed across his shoulder as she walked out of the room, and the Headmaster chuckled, probably sensing Aranos’ discomfort.

“You’ve no one but yourself to blame for that, Traveler,” the ancient Wizard pointed out as the door to the room closed.  “Charisma is a powerful tool, but it’s a blade that can cut both ways.  You chose to wield it as a weapon, and now you’d best beware of its other edge.  Like most Astral mages, Savannah is extremely sensual and curious about new experiences, and I’m sure your true form was visible to her while she was projected into the room.”

“So, she was watching us all astrally?  Why?”

“Well, many things are clearer in Arethain than they are here,” the old man shrugged.  “I’ve never visited, but I’m told that the world is both easier and harder to understand from there, and everything perceived there is far more intense and stimulating.  In addition, magic in all its forms can be plainly seen without needing the appropriate Mastery Skills.”  He sighed.  “It’s a shame that so few choose that school.  Traveling in Arethain requires a certain surrender of the will, and few Wizards are capable of that.”

Aranos nodded.  “So, what did you want to speak to me about?”

“No more questions, Traveler?” the old man chuckled.  “My instructors tell me that your kind are full of questions.  Come now, there’s nothing in all of what happened that troubles or confuses you?”

“Well, some of it I understand, but some of it I don’t.  I suppose I understand why Mind magic is prohibited – it’s hard to defend against – but I don’t get why you couldn’t sense Greghoff using it against me, or in the barrier, with that Domain of yours. And what is a Domain…?”

The old man waved Aranos to silence, laughing.  “And there is the start of the infamous interrogation I’ve heard so much about!  Questions after questions, without giving someone a chance to answer before the next comes.  Well, let’s see what we can do.

“Your first question is simple enough to answer.  I don’t know how it is with Sorcerers, but Wizards can only sense Enhanced mana if they have the appropriate Spell Mastery Skill.  Indeed, sensing the associated aspect is generally the Student rank Ability gained with any Spell Mastery, but for Primary mana, lacking the needed Mastery Skill simply limits the range at which you can sense that aspect.”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Aranos admitted.  “I’ve never been offered a Spell Mastery Skill before.”

“I’ve been speaking to Radomil about your Class – he’s made something of a study of lost magic, and before you came to our world, Sorcery was one such.  He did tell me that Sorcerers don’t gain Mastery Skills but have some other method of altering their mana.  For Wizards, Spell Mastery allows us to replace some of our unaspected mana with the associated type and cast more powerful Spells of that aspect.  Lacking the Skill, we have to rely on our spellforms to separate out the unwanted aspects – which is both wasteful and makes casting the more powerful Spells of any given aspect impossible.

“If a Wizard wishes to cast a spell of Primary mana, they can do it without the needed Spell Mastery – it simply takes more SP and isn’t as powerful.  That isn’t possible with Enhanced mana; as you have likely discovered, Enhanced mana comes from a place within each Wizard, and without the associated Mastery, we can’t distinguish those aspects from the natural magic of the world.”

Aranos frowned.  “I wouldn’t think that unlocking the Mind aspect would be that hard for Wizards, though,” he pointed out.  “You just need an Intelligence of 50 and an Adept level in one of the appropriate Lore skills, right?  That should be simple.”

“Is that all it takes for Sorcerers?” the man asked in surprise.  “Sadly, it’s much more difficult for us.  To unlock Mind Mastery, a Wizard must have an Intelligence above 60, at least one Charisma-based Skill and a Lore Skill related to a sapient race both at the Expert level, and Air and Light Masteries, one at Adept, the other at Expert. 

“Even if a Wizard gains all of these, though, this simply gives them the ability to attempt to learn and cast a Spell of the Mind aspect.  It can take years of study to understand the Spell, and months to cast it correctly.  Only casting the Spell will finally unlock the Spell Mastery Skill and allow the Wizard to begin their journey on the path of that aspect.

“And that is the Mind aspect, which is one of the easier ones for Wizards to master,” the old man added.  “Imagine how difficult the Nature aspect is, requiring a Strength or Endurance of over 60, when both of those are a Wizard’s Weak Stats.”  The old man shook his head.  “The School of Nature’s Path is a sparsely populated one, indeed.”

Aranos blew out a breath.  “Sounds like it’s much harder for Wizards,” he admitted.  “No wonder you guys tend to only master one or two Enhanced aspects.”

“Indeed.  I’m certain I will regret asking this, but how many Enhanced aspects have you unlocked?”

“Umm…all of them?” Aranos said tentatively.  “Well, almost all the Enhanced ones, at least; I’m fairly sure that combining Nature and Spirit mana will summon something, and I’m a little nervous about what I might call on accident.”

“A wise thing to be, as those two aspects do combine to form Evocation mana, and as you said, evoking a being without knowing what you summon can be dangerous.  Doing so without a shell of Warding mana to contain it can be lethal.”

“I figured out Warding mana, but I’m still working on some of the Evolved aspects; a lot of them, most likely.  I have to figure out which Primary aspects will even mesh with the various Enhanced ones.”

“Oh?” the old man’s eyes looked surprised.  “Well, then, there is a place where we have an advantage, Sorcerer.  Once I have unlocked an Enhanced aspect, I can cast any of its associated Evolved ones freely.  For example, my first Enhanced aspect was Spirit, and Spirit Mastery opened up Evocation, Conjuration, Animation, and Warding mana, as well.  You say you have to unlock each of these individually?”

“Yes,” Aranos sighed.  “Well, I guess that keeps everything a bit balanced.  I can theoretically unlock every aspect, but it’ll take a long time, and while I’m doing that a Wizard of my level will be leaping ahead in the power of the Spells of their specific aspect.”

“That seems a fair assessment,” the old man agreed.  “Now, what was the second question?  Ah, yes, what is a Domain?  Well, that’s a more difficult one to answer, but I’ll try.  Have you heard of the Primal aspects?”

Aranos frowned.  “No,” he admitted.  “I haven’t heard of those.”

“I’m not surprised.  Very few Wizards ever unlock a Primal Domain, and those that do are often consumed by it.”  He shook his head.  “Primary mana, as you know, comes from the world.  We draw it into ourselves, fashion it into Spells or Abilities, and project it back out into the world.  Enhanced mana comes from within us and is part of our essential nature.  Beyond even that, though, is Primal mana.”

He leaned back in his chair.  “Primal mana isn’t even mana, not in the way you might think. It represents a fundamental force of reality, something deeper and more potent than regular magic.  To unlock a Primal aspect, a Wizard must be wholly dedicated to it, a living banner of that part of reality.  When this happens, the Wizard gains a Domain, an area about them where they can use Primal mana with nothing more than a thought.   No Spells are needed; within your Domain, you can create effects by transforming SP directly into magic.”

He held up a hand, and four swirling balls of energy – fire, ice, earth, and water – suddenly appeared, rotating around one another.  “My Primal aspect is Creation,” he smiled.  “Within my Domain, I can create myriad effects, such as the chair in which you’re sitting.  I can make just about anything I can imagine…”  The four balls slammed into one another and elongated into a floating, glowing sword that radiated all four elements. 

“However, I can’t destroy anything.  I can only create.  My creations can cause destruction, but I can’t do it, myself.”  The man shrugged, and the sword disappeared.  “I consider it to be a fair trade-off.”

Primal mana, Aranos mused.  I’ll bet that’s the energy that’s below my mana rivers.  I should see if I can do anything with that sometime.   “So what’s the downside?” he asked curiously.

“Downside?” the headmaster repeated.

“There has to be a downside.  There was for unlocking aspected mana – I have to tend my mana a lot more closely now than I did before, and it takes a lot more concentration to use it than it used to.  Enhanced mana is powerful, but you can only use so much before it damages your Stats.  So, what’s the downside to Primal mana?”

Headmaster Mandla nodded.  “Very good,” he smiled.  “You’re right: there is no power without a price, and the price of Primal mana can be your very essence.”  The old man leaned forward, his face thoughtful as he spoke. 

“You see, Sorcerer, a Domain is formed of the energy from a fundamental part of reality, and everything within that Domain is gradually but implacably altered to resemble that reality.  Here, in my Domain, objects and creatures are more vital, stronger, and harder to destroy.  Those within are driven to create – or procreate, for some – and their more destructive tendencies are gradually driven from them.”

“Every creature?” Aranos asked, his eyes narrowing.  “Even you?”

“Yes, Traveler, even I am affected – in fact, I’m affected the most of all.  The more I use my Domain, the more it comes to occupy my thoughts and to alter my nature.”  The old Wizard shook his head.  “You recall how I said I can’t destroy anything?  Well, that’s very close to true.  Over the decades, I’ve come to find the thought of destruction utterly repugnant, and I doubt that I could bring myself to destroy an enemy now even if I wished.

“That is the downside, Sorcerer.  Over time, your Domain comes to control you, and the more you use it, the faster that happens.  Eventually, the most powerful among us become little more than tools for our Domain, vassals to it in every sense of the word.  It’s even said that some Wizards have given themselves utterly to their Domain, joining with it and becoming one with it.  Those, it’s supposed, have lost whatever sense of self and identity they possessed, empowering their Domain at the cost of their essence.”

Aranos sat back, considering the man’s words.  “Can you tell me what the Domains are?”

The Headmaster shook his head.  “No one knows them all, I’m afraid.  I know of Creation and its linked Domain Destruction, Order and its linked Domain Entropy, and the Domain of Time, whose complement I simply don’t know.  I’m certain there are others, though.”

“Linked Domains?  Those sound like opposites.”

“Only to someone who doesn’t understand their natures,” Mandla smiled.  “Destruction and Creation aren’t opposed concepts, for example, but are deeply tied to one another.  Without Creation, there would be nothing to destroy; without Destruction, eventually, there would be nothing left to create.  They are complements to the other.  Without Entropy, what would there be to Order?  Without Order, what would Entropy disarray?”

Aranos nodded in understanding.  It was kind of like the cycle of Light and Darkness he’d imagined in his readings.  Light Redeemed, and Darkness Corrupted.  Without Light, the Darkness would have nothing to Corrupt and would eventually consume itself.  Without Darkness, the Light would eventually Redeem everything and turn on its own.  Each side needed the other to exist.

“Thanks for explaining,” Aranos nodded.

“In return for the information I provided you – which no doubt gave you a boost to your Arcane Lore Skill,” the Headmaster smiled, “I have a favor to ask, Traveler.”

Aranos glanced quickly at his Skill sheet and blinked; his Arcane Lore had gone up a rank, oddly enough, and was sitting at Adept 4 now.  “What’s that?” he asked cautiously.

“Young Avalyn,” the man sighed.  “Traveler, I admit that I had no idea what you were talking about earlier.  Fractals?  Spin rates?  It sounded like nonsense to me.  And yet, if that’s what she must learn – then only you can teach her.”

Aranos looked at the man cautiously.  “I can’t stay here and train her, Headmaster,” he said slowly.  “I’ve got too many responsibilities…”

“No, no, that wouldn’t be wise, in any case,’ the old man waved a hand dismissively.  “Dean Greghoff – assuming he’s still in the College after our chat later – has taken quite the dislike to you.  While I’m not really worried for your safety, as you seem capable of defending yourself, it seems pointless to cause antagonism for no gain.”  He sighed.  “No, Traveler – Aranos – I’m asking you to take her with you.”

Aranos stared at the man silently for several moments.  “Take her with me?” he asked curiously.  “You mean, out of the College?”

“I mean, take her, train her, and return her to us as an expert in her art,” the Headmaster explained.  “From what Radomil said, while Wizards are scholars, Sorcerers’ powers are driven by their will and imagination.  We work to actively discourage experimentation, in truth, because designing a new spellform is nearly impossible and almost always dangerous or lethal to the Wizard.”

Aranos frowned.  “Wait, if that’s true, how did Greghoff create the barrier?  It sounds like he created a Spell, but if you say it’s impossible to do that…”

“I said almost impossible.  Very, very rarely a Wizard actually creates something new, and when that happens, they gain the Spellcrafting Ability.  This grants them significantly greater chances to successfully develop new Spells – but even then, Dominik spent many years researching the barrier and failed dozens of times before creating that one.”  The old man shook his head sadly.  “One of his assistants didn’t live through the process, I’m afraid, and in fact, most such experiments end very badly – even for a Spellcrafter.”

The man grimaced.  “Unless I’m very mistaken, though, a Sorcerer has to try new things to grow.  We teach our students to choose a single path and follow it, but it seems that you follow many paths.”  He shook his head.  “Not only can we not teach her, our ways are probably harming her growth.  She needs a mentor and guide, Aranos.  She needs an expert Sorcerer.  Will you be that for her?”

Aranos stared at the man, his mind racing.  He’d planned to help Avalyn, but she couldn’t realistically go adventuring with him.  She was simply too low-level; anything that he faced would be too much for her.  She’d have to grind XP, fighting animals and maybe bogez.  She’d need a group to go with, one low enough in level to allow her to participate in combat without too much danger…

At the same time, he bet that teaching some of what he knew would probably boost his Skills as fast if not faster than using them at this point.  He would train her in Mana Control, of course, but he could also teach her his more advanced Skills, like Deeper Meditation and Mana Mastery, ones that he didn’t even know if Wizards could use.  With those Skills, she’d become powerful more quickly than most Wizards, and if he taught her High Enchantment, she could boost her abilities with Enchanted items. 

He sighed.  He didn’t really have much of a choice, in all honestly.  His trainer, Lythienne the Last Sorcerer, had sacrificed her very existence to help him; what kind of repayment would it be if he didn’t pass those teachings on to another when he had a chance?  If he was going to teach the girl, would he want to keep coming back here, or would he rather take her to Antas with him?

“Okay,” he nodded.  “I’ll take her with me, but on one condition.  Well, two, I guess.”

“What conditions?” the Headmaster asked warily.

“Nothing significant.  One, if I want to, I can ask for training here without having to join the College.  I can’t learn your Spells, but if there’s information you guys teach that I don’t know, you’ll teach me if I ask.”

“Within reason,” the Headmaster nodded.  “You can speak to Savannah, and she can make arrangements, but so long as it’s not taking away from our legitimate students, that seems fair.  What of the second?”

“That I train her my way,” Aranos said firmly.  “She’ll focus on the Skills and Stats I want her to, not the ones you might usually teach, and no one will interfere if they don’t like exactly how I’m doing things.”

The Headmaster smiled gently.  “That’s even more reasonable,” he agreed.  “If I admit that we don’t know how to train her, then I have to admit that we can’t tell you how to do so.”  He leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him.  “However, let me add a condition of my own, Traveler.  I am placing a grave responsibility in your hands.  If you shirk it, abuse my trust, or mistreat your ward – I’ll be beyond unhappy.”

Aranos’ eyes narrowed.  “I can’t shelter her,” he said bluntly.  “Sorcerers aren’t scholars; we’re battle casters.  We were designed to fight the Darkness, and that means we put ourselves at risk.  I can’t promise that she won’t be hurt.  I can’t even promise that she won’t die.  All I can promise is that if that happens, it’ll be despite everything I can do to prevent it.”

“That’s all I can ask,” the old man agreed.  “Then we’re agreed?”

“We’re agreed,” Aranos nodded.

“Good.”  The old man looked at the door.  “Student Avalyn, please return to my office.”  Although the man’s words were spoken at a normal tone, Aranos could hear his voice echoing outside the closed door. 

A few moments later, Avalyn entered, still looking sulky and sullen.  Her hands were curled into fists at her sides, and he could tell that her jaw was clenched.  “Yes, Headmaster?” she asked, not looking at either of the men.

“I would like to introduce you to your new instructor,” the old man smiled gently, holding a hand out to Aranos. 

“I know, Headmaster, he already taught me…”

“No, child.  From here on out, he’s your only instructor.  You’ll be leaving the College, traveling with Aranos, and receiving all of your instruction directly from him.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed slightly.  “I’m being kicked out?” she said in a flat voice.  “Why?”

“You’re not being kicked out, Avalyn,” Aranos sighed, rising to his feet and walking over to stand beside the girl.  “Do you remember how easy it was for me to teach you to touch your mana?  To learn that Spell?”  The girl bit her lip but nodded, still not looking at him. 

“Well, that’s the kind of instruction you need, and you can’t get it here,” Aranos told her.  “You can only get it from me; I’m the First Sorcerer.  As far as I know, you’re the second.  If you want to learn, only I can teach you.”

“So, why don’t you stay here and teach me?” she demanded, her eyes flashing.  “Why do I have to leave?”

“Because you’re not my only responsibility,” he replied evenly.  “I have others, and I can’t shirk them.  So, if you want to learn, you’ll have to come with me.  There’s no other way.”

“This isn’t a request, child,” the Headmaster said gently.  “You will be going with Aranos and learning from him, and you will treat him with the respect and courtesy due any instructor at this College – of which you are still a part.  It’s my hope that you’ll come to master your Abilities and return to us to instruct others, just as Aranos will train you.  You haven’t been abandoned or cast aside.

“Now, return to your chambers, gather your belongings, and – wait, where are you staying, Aranos?”

“The Black Blade.”

“Really?  A somewhat disreputable place, but to each their own.”  He looked back at the girl.  “I will arrange for an escort to the Black Blade, where you can await your teacher while he finishes his business here.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” the girl pouted before turning and storming out the door.

The old man chuckled.  “I tried, Traveler, but I fear you’ll have your hands full with that one.  Now, you have an appointment with Dean Janeczek, do you not?”

“I’d almost forgotten, with everything that’s happened,” Aranos admitted, sitting back down. 

“Understandable, but I’m sure that Radomil hasn’t forgotten; he’s very excited to speak with you.”  The man raised a hand.  “Enjoy your visit and know that so long as you follow the rules I’ve set, you’re welcome in this College.”

Aranos opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a sound, the world blurred around him.  He blinked as his stomach lurched, and suddenly he found himself sitting in a totally different office, one much smaller and darker – and one without a chair under him supporting his weight.  He yelped involuntarily as he crashed to the floor, his armor taking the impact but still jarring him slightly.

He glanced up to see Dean Janeczek rising from behind a desk, his face alarmed.  “Are you hurt?” the dean asked, poorly concealing a smile.

“Only my pride,” Aranos muttered, sitting up unsteadily as the room swayed around him.  “I’ll bet he did that on purpose, didn’t he?”

“Probably,” Radomil laughed.  “He’s always telling us we need to lighten up.  Maybe that’s his way of telling you the same thing?”

Aranos wanted to reply, but he was too busy keeping his stomach under control as it tried to empty itself all over the thick, dark brown carpeting covering the floor.  The room was semi-circular, with mahogany shelves lining the walls and only a single, small window set high in one wall.  A desk made of the same wood as the shelves occupied the center of the room, and two chairs sat before it.  Aranos idly noted that everything in this room was solidly built, heavy-looking – and firmly fastened to the walls or floor. 

He rose shakily to his feet as his stomach settled, and he swallowed hard, still breathing shallowly.  “Sorry,” he finally said.  “I don’t teleport very well, I’m afraid.”

“So I see,” the dean chuckled, sitting behind his desk.  “Come, sit down and let your equilibrium restore itself, Traveler.”  He gestured to one of the chairs, and Aranos sat down slowly and hesitantly.

“Welcome to the School of the Fathomless,” the man said grandly.  “Here we teach the myriad aspects of Spatial magic, as well as the linked magic of the Dimensional aspect.”  He smiled.  “Tell me, Sorcerer, other than Dimensional, what other Spatial-linked aspects can you use?  I understand they don’t come naturally to your Class.”

“Umm,” Aranos replied, still trying to settle his thoughts.  “Quite a few.  Kinetic, Gravitational, and Telekinetic were the first ones.  I worked out Thermal, Arctic, Radioactive, and Damping later.”

“That’s quite the list,” the man nodded, his face impressed.  “You’ve discovered Spatial magic combined with the elements, as well as the powers of life or the void.  Most of those are fairly common in our school, but few Wizards master Void magic to the necessary degree to learn Gravitational, considering how dangerous it is to use.  Telekinetic magic, while touching on our school’s province, is taught primarily in the School of the Unseen, whose dean you just met – and humiliated, I might add.”

“I would say that he humiliated himself,” Aranos disagreed.  “I didn’t make him use Mind mana in the Spell, I just happened to be the one who exposed it.” 

The man leaned back.  “While that’s true, I’m certain Dean Greghoff doesn’t see it that way.  He’s violated one of our more important rules, albeit it in a fairly harmless way.  Still, most of the Masters won’t see it that way.”

“Does that mean Dean Greghoff is going to be expelled from the College?”

“Perhaps,” Radomil admitted.  “Many will demand that, once word gets out – which it will, no matter what.  The barrier will have to be replaced, of course, with something that doesn’t use Mind magic and that is probably less effective, but…”  The man shrugged.  “Old fears die hard, Traveler.”

He shook his head.  “In any case, you’re here with questions.  I have some of my own, but as you’re my guest, it’s only right that you go first.  What can I do for you?”

“I’m – having trouble targeting my Dimensional magic,” Aranos admitted.  “I can open a portal, but it rarely goes where I want it to unless it’s in sight range or somewhere I know really well in the close vicinity.  I want to create long-lasting, stable portals, but to do that, I have to be able to target them.”

The man leaned back in his chair.  “That’s quite the question,” the man admitted.  “In fact, you’re asking for one of the more important secrets of our school, here: how to create perfectly targeted portals to anywhere, no matter how far.”

“So, you know how to do it?” Aranos asked excitedly.  “The books back in Antas suggested that human Wizards might…”

Radomil held up a restraining hand.  “I do know how to help you,” he admitted.  “However, it’s a very complicated answer that’s usually reserved for Master Wizards of our school.  What are you willing to offer in trade?”

Aranos shook his head.  “I just made a deal with the Headmaster that I can get whatever training I ask for, in return for taking Avalyn on as my pupil,” he pointed out.

“And have you officially started her instruction since then?” Radomil grinned.  “If not, then I don’t think that arrangement applies, just yet.  So, what shall we trade?”

Aranos sighed inwardly but kept his face friendly.  Really, it was only fair for the Dean to ask for something in return for his knowledge.  The issue was that Aranos wasn’t sure what he might want.  “Well, that depends,” he hedged.  “What might you be interested in?”

“As I said, old fears die hard, and we live in a world filled with fear,” the man said slowly, his eyes growing distant as he gestured at the heavy shelves surrounding him.  “I’ve always found that the best way to combat fear is with knowledge.  That’s why, while most deans’ offices are filled with books about their particular brand of magic, my shelves hold nothing but books of lore.  I’ve studied the time before the Feast as much as any man can and learned what I could of the Wizards of those days.”

He shook his head.  “So much was lost, Traveler, but it could be regained.  You’re asking for knowledge; I think it’s only fair that you offer knowledge in return.”

Aranos gazed at Janeczek silently for several long moments.  “So, you’re asking for access to the Library of Antas,” he said quietly.

“I think it’s a fair trade.  I give you the knowledge you need, you give me access to knowledge I don’t have.”

Aranos snorted and shook his head.  “That’s not remotely fair,” he disagreed evenly.  “You’re offering to give me one bit of very specific information, and in return you’re asking for an open-ended pass to research at the greatest library in the world?  No, not fair at all.”

Radomil’s face twisted wryly.  “Well, what are you offering, then?  Despite what you might think, granting you my private instruction is very valuable.  While you don’t have a Spell Mastery Skill to improve, learning from a Grandmaster in Spatial Mastery will certainly give you large benefits.  I’ll need something in return.”

Aranos leaned back in his chair.  “One day,” he offered slowly.  “One day of research in the library.”

“That’s not much of an offer,” the man smirked.  “I’d spend the entire day just trying to figure out how to find anything.”

Aranos shook his head.  “The librarians are still there.  All you have to do is ask them for a work – or for works on a subject – and they’ll bring it to you.  You’ll spend maybe ten minutes waiting, and you’ll have the rest of the day to do research.”

The man gave him an appraising look.  “Five days,” he countered. 

“One,” Aranos replied, drawing an annoyed look from the man.  “However, Antas is, right now, a deserted city.  I’m trying to repopulate it.  If you can get a branch of the Mages’ College to open there, I’ll grant research privileges to any full Wizard of the College in residence in the city – and to the person who made that happen, of course.”

Radomil leaned forward, gazing at him with narrowed eyes.  “So, if I can convince the Headmasters Council to open a branch of the College in Antas, you’d grant me unlimited research privileges in the library?”

“Not unlimited,” Aranos corrected.  “For one, you wouldn’t have access to the Vault, sorry.  For another, it would have to be a decent-sized enclave; say, at least fifty full Wizards representing at the very least the four elemental schools and one of the Enhanced schools.  Finally, access is only granted for as long as that enclave remains in the city.”

“And in return, you’d allow those Wizards to freely study at the library?”

“Yep.  I’ll even throw in a building for you.  There are a couple of Wizards Towers still standing.  They’ll need some repair, and some of the Enchantments will have to be reworked, but you can have one of them at no cost, besides the usual taxes.”

Radomil leaned back, tenting his fingers below his chin, his gaze thoughtful.  “Traveler, you have a deal,” he finally said with a grin.  “It’ll probably take me several days to get the Council to convene, but once they do, they’ll leap at this opportunity.  Getting to study in the greatest center of learning ever known in the Lands of Light is simply too good an offer to refuse.”

“Good,” Aranos grinned back.  “So, how do I target portals to places I don’t know well – or to people?”

“The secret, Traveler, is that there is no secret.  It can’t be done.”  Aranos felt a sudden rush of anger that must have showed in his face, because the dean held up a restraining hand.  “However, just because it can’t be done directly, that doesn’t mean there aren’t ways to do it.  There are two, and I can teach you both of them – assuming that you have Light mana.  Do you?”  Aranos nodded. 

“Good.  So, we’re faced with two distinct problems: targeting an area you don’t know that well and targeting a person rather than an area.  Each has its own solution…”

Neela zipped through the College of Air’s central shaft, her face carefully composed as she passed other students and Wizards at top speed.  The students offered pleasantries that she barely acknowledged; the Wizards simply gave her disapproving looks as she sped past them.  She was going faster than decorum and custom suggested she should, but in her current state of mind, she couldn’t bring herself to slow down.  Her thoughts were racing, and she needed to get to her room, to have some time to think.  The day had not gone the way she’d hoped it would, all because of that stupid girl and the stupid barrier…

She swooped up to her room and let herself in, sealing the door shut behind her.  The doors weren’t really locked.  Anyone could open it with an application of air mana, which meant that pretty much anyone in the College of Air could open any student’s door.  That hadn’t bothered her before, any more than the transparent floors – and the fact that anyone below her could see right up her robe – had ever bothered her.  It upset her now, though; the thought that anyone could waltz into her room at any time made her feel very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

She flung herself onto her bed, falling back onto the thin mattress and burying her face in her hands.  Emotions roiled within her; she wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream, cry, or break something.  All three seemed appropriate, and while she’d probably end up doing each at some point, right now, she had to pick one.  She decided on screaming.

“That – that asshole!” she shouted, only half-articulate as a wave of outrage and fury washed through her.  “That – he – AARRRGH!” she shrieked incoherently, her thoughts running too quickly for her words to keep up.  Who the fuck do they think they are?  Just because I’m a student here, they think they can – they can…

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and leaned forward as her rage shifted into a feeling of shame.  She’d been summoned early that morning to Dean Rocherres’ office, and she’d gone with a sinking feeling.  She was sure that she knew what it was about; someone had probably seen Aranos teaching her to use the crystal, and she was about to get chewed out royally for breaking the rules.  She’d been so sure of that fact that she’d been stunned almost into insensibility when she’d found Headmaster Mandla waiting for her along with the dean. 

Aranos’ tampering with the barrier had drawn attention, and not the good kind.  Apparently, a Wizard from the School of the Unseen had to be called to undo whatever the man had done, and that had stirred up a huge hornet’s nest.  Mind magic was very close to taboo in the College; its usage was highly regulated and controlled, and Aranos had apparently used it to breach the barrier.  They hadn’t believed her when she’d told them that he was just a powerful Traveler Wizard from another city.  None of the other Colleges had heard of Oran the Master of Elements, and they surely would have.  They threatened her with disciplinary actions and even expulsion, but she hadn’t talked.

Neela wasn’t the toughest or bravest person in the world.  Out of the game, she was a shy, nerdy little forensic accountant whose idea of danger was digging through a general ledger looking for discrepancies.  She hated confrontations, crowds, and really anything loud and intimidating.  However, despite her faults, she was loyal – and incredibly stubborn when she dug her heels in.  Aranos hadn’t wanted anyone here to know who he was, so she hadn’t told them, even if it meant getting kicked out of the College.

After a couple hours of this, the Headmaster had called Dean Greghoff in, and that’s when everything had gone to hell.  The bald Wizard had climbed inside her skull, poking around in the place that was supposed to be most private and most secret!  The Headmaster asked her questions, and she couldn’t help but think of the answers.  The moment she did, the fucking dean snatched them up from inside her mind.  She’d tried to fight, but the College had her focusing on training her Intelligence, not her Wisdom, and there’d been nothing she could do. 

She shuddered as she remembered the feeling of her private thoughts laid bare like that.  It was humiliating and left her feeling ashamed, as if she’d been standing naked in front of all those people.  It made her feel…violated.

“You know that we’re reading your thoughts all the time, right?” the deep, mellow voice of Dan, her AI guide spoke silently in her mind.  “That’s the entire point of this game: to allow us to more accurately read and understand your thoughts.”

“It’s not the same,” she said aloud as tears sprang unbidden from her eyes.  “I was trying to keep something private, and it was taken from me, against my will.  It makes me feel helpless and out of control, and that makes me furious.”

“I see,” Dan’s voice was concerned as he spoke.  “So, it wasn’t the fact that your mind was being read, it was that you couldn’t do anything to stop it that’s upsetting you?”

“It’s both.  I know you read my thoughts all the time, but I agreed to that when I came into the game.  I didn’t agree to have an NPC poke through my brain and tell everyone the things I wanted to keep hidden.”

“I’m afraid that’s an aspect of Mind magic, Neela.  If you want to avoid that happening again, you’ll need to figure out a defense.  Maybe you can ask your dean for help with that?”

She dashed the tears away from her face.  “No, screw this.  If that’s how they treat their students, I don’t want any part of them.”  She grabbed her satchel and began gathering everything she owned in the room, stuffing it into the pack.  She hesitated when she hefted the long, slim knife, then strapped it around her waist.   Before she’d joined the College, she’d gotten her Small Blades Mastery up to the Student level; she’d had a tendency to run low on SP, thanks to her not-so-great Wisdom, and having something to fall back on just seemed smart.

“Are you sure about this?  What about being a Storm Wizard?”

She stopped, biting her lip.  “Fine.  I won’t quit.  But – but I’m going to the Adventurers’ Guild to see if anyone wants a Wizard for a pick-up group.  I could use the XP, and I need to blow off some steam.  If they don’t like it…fuck them.”

She hefted her satchel and stormed out of her room, her eyes blazing with fury.  She half wanted someone to confront her, to tell her she had to return to her room or couldn’t go adventure.  Normally, she hated confrontations, but right now, she could use someone to scream at.

To her dismay, no one stopped her as she marched out of the College and crossed the mostly empty Guild Square to the Adventurers’ Guild.  Belatedly, she realized why no one had hindered her; it was after sunset, the gates to the city were closed, and there were no Quests to be gotten this late at night.  They didn’t stop me because I’ve got nowhere to go.  

Well, to hell with that.  She couldn’t go adventuring, but she could certainly get nice and drunk.  Her Endurance was truly pathetic – it was a weak Stat for Wizards, so she couldn’t improve it easily, no matter what she did – but that made getting wasted a whole, lot easier.  She walked into the tavern and sat down at a table, motioning for a waiter.

Tomorrow was logout.  Who the hell cared if she had a Hung Over debuff?

She ordered her first drink, totally unaware of the twin pairs of eyes watching her very carefully from the table across the room.

Lily watched with a grin as her slowly growing army tore into the relief column Queen Ysabelle had sent to reinforce Northmoor’s besieged watchtower.  She’d caught the assholes completely by surprise, and her minions – she still loved that term – were ripping the humans apart with ease.  It was their own damn fault; they’d acted on bad information, and now they were paying the fucking price.  Of course, Lily had deliberately given them that information, but she hadn’t made them swallow it like a cheap whore.

Her plan had worked perfectly.  Northmoor kept this tower to guard their northern road for some reason – the damn road was supposed to lead to a city called Forestward, but nobody ever took it because Forestward had fallen in the Feast, and the Bloodwood surrounding the city was a place that even Lily would be hesitant walking through.  She supposed the tower was supposed to guard against anything coming out of the Bloodwood, but from what she’d seen, anything that came out of that place would probably knock the fucking tower down like it was a damn toy. 

Even so, when Lily surrounded the tower with a hundred of her stolen troops, all dressed in black to hide the fact that they used to be soldiers of Northmoor or Stoneleague, the dumbass Queen had responded just as Lily predicted.  She’d sent a huge chunk of her forces to overwhelm the besiegers and free the assholes stuck inside, and she’d told them to do it damn quick.  The company of five hundred or so soldiers had practically run to relieve the tower’s beleaguered defenders, and Lily had been forced to sacrifice the hundred she’d sent to encircle the tower to draw the column into combat. 

They’d fallen for the bait, though; once her token force was fully engaged and looked about to be overwhelmed, the tower’s forces had descended and joined the attack.  That was when Lily sprang her trap, and a thousand screaming urukkai, humans, and summoned monsters swept over the ridgeline they’d been hiding behind and fell on the humans.  It was a slaughter, mostly because the idiot soldiers hadn’t had the faintest idea that Lily was here and had made stupid plans that she could easily counter.

To be fair, they never really stood a chance.  Lily wasn’t leaving shit to chance in any of this; she’d learned the hard way that any loose end could and would get picked apart by some damn player.  This scheme wasn’t coming tumbling down because she overlooked some asshole Traveler with a Quest to defeat her or some shit.  She’d planned everything in as much detail as possible, and she’d used the city’s own leaders to help her do just that.

Thanks to her Dream Haunting Ability, Lily had spent most of the last week’s evenings torturing the Queen and her best general for information.  The Queen had some sort of protection against Lily’s Skills, but Lily had gotten through eventually.  It turned out, the Queen had some wild-ass dreams about slumming it in the docks; it had been easy enough to turn those into a nightmare of a gangbang that left the woman begging for mercy and willing to spill any secret just to make it stop.  That led Lily to General Highcliff, who unwillingly trained the Dream Haunter in the Leadership Skill and gave up pretty much every bit of information Lily wanted after she’d roasted his cock over a fire for an hour or so. 

She’d found out the location of every scouting party sent out and captured or killed them; she knew whenever a reprisal force was coming and laid an ambush for it.  She’d even found the Guildmaster of Northmoor’s Adventurers’ Guild and tortured her until she spilled the names of every adventuring party sent to deal with her.  Those players had quite a surprise when they got out of sight of the city and found themselves ambushed by fifty or so enemies at once.  Lily was sure there’d been some bitching about that; the game wasn’t supposed to hit players with overwhelming force like that, but Lily didn’t have to follow the damn AIs’ rules.  She was a player, too, and that meant she could do what she wanted.

Now, she knew the entire layout of the city, every one of their defenses, and the location of the escape tunnel the Queen was supposed to be able to use to get out of the city if it was besieged.  That wouldn’t be happening now, of course; Lily had taken the guards in that tunnel and sent a troop of her captured humans into the city.  They’d been causing trouble for the past day – starting fires, murdering random people, smashing wagons, that sort of thing – and now the whole place was on edge.  Every soldier in Northmoor was either on patrol or on the walls right now, which was exactly where she wanted them to be.

Best of all, Lily knew the location of the city’s Heart, and thanks to that fucker Zoridos she knew exactly how to take it.  It would require blood and death, but Lily didn’t give a shit about that.  Real death didn’t bother her; why the hell would killing people in this imaginary world be an issue for her?  In fact, killing these fuckers was one of the few things she really enjoyed in the game, if she was being honest with herself, which she always tried to do.

The tower’s defenders were trying to fight free of the melee now and get back into the tower.  They were desperate to hold the place; according to the Queen’s dreams, there was some kind of stupid prophecy that if that tower fell, Northmoor would right after it.  Lily supposed that meant that the AIs had already set up taking this place as a Quest for evil players and that conquering the tower would be one step in that Quest chain.  Well, their asses would never get it, because Lily had zero interest in the damn place and definitely didn’t want the humans to get back inside.

She rose above the battlefield and stopped to savor the moment of terror her appearance inspired in the soldiers below.  She knew she looked badass – she’d found a flight Spell that gave her batlike wings made out of solidified darkness, and she was wearing gleaming, black armor and an ebony crown that she’d had some of her captured minions forge for her.  She radiated power and general badassery thanks to the Aura of Fear Spell she kept active during battles, and all the little lesser human shits trembled and quailed before her.

Just the way they fucking should.

She gathered power around her as she cast one of her newest Spells, one she’d hunted down just in case she needed to breach Northmoor’s walls the old-fashioned way.  It was a direct damage Spell, which meant that she’d normally take a penalty to it because of her Summoner Class, but it was also a Corrupt Spell, which her racial change gave her a bonus for, so it all kind of evened out.  The spellform swirled about her in a haze of ebon flames, crawling all over her flesh and stripping away about half her SP in a single burst.  The flames felt icy and burned at the same time, and Lily knew that a regular, mortal caster would have been consumed by them.  Only someone who’d gone through an Evolution could use this Spell without destroying themselves, and Lily had certainly fucking done that. 

Searing balls of black flame exploded out from her, twenty of them, each as large as a beach ball and crammed with dark magic.  They slammed into the tower near the base, dug into the stone, and exploded.  Although the energy looked like fire, it wasn’t; it was a mingling of Void and corruptive magics that ate at solid matter like acid, and the Spell chewed through the base of the tower like a damn chainsaw through a tree.  The structure shuddered, rumbled, and slowly toppled to the ground, smashing itself to pieces and leaving nothing but a half-melted stump about ten feet high. 

She could literally see the morale of the human soldiers break as the tower fell, and one by one, they tossed down their swords or tried to flee.  Lily’s forces didn’t allow anyone to escape her clutches that fucking easily, though, and in a matter of minutes, every human was either dead, dying, or on their knees in surrender.  Lily smiled.  She could use all of them; they would all join her ranks soon enough. 

By tomorrow, the entire city of Northmoor would.  The goddamned players would be logging out in the morning, and when they came back, they’d be in for quite a fucking surprise…