P.F. Davids's Blog

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One of the longest campaigns I ever ran was set in a world where guilds had replaced traditional military forces for waging war.  The players were running an Adventurer’s Guild that had grown to a size that they could start dipping their toes into traditional warfare as well.  They came into conflict with a notoriously aggressive (and not quite legal) guild, and next thing you know, war were declared.

Their forces met in battle, and the versatility of the adventurers that made up the core of the player guild’s forces, backed by a number of archers, quickly routed the enemy.  The enemy retreated back into the safety of their stronghold and the PC’s prepared for a siege.  This was at around 10PM, and our sessions usually ran till around 11 or 12.  My intention was the show my players that the stronghold could not be taken with their current forces, have them negotiate a peace with their enemies, and come home the victors, all in time to end at the regular point.  What I had underestimated was my player’s absolute determination to not end this until their enemies were completely crushed and their guild disbanded.

So here’s the situation they found themselves in: their enemies stronghold was a tower in the middle of the small city.  The city itself was fairly labyrinthine, with twisting streets and tall building at many street corners that hid what was just around the bend.  The tower was tall enough that the top levels had a view of most of the streets.  It was armed with short-range canons at the lower levels and long-range ballista at the top, plus a full company of archers.  This in addition to the rest of the guild, including the leadership, who had taken refuge inside.

The PC’s first instinct (as it often is) was just to charge it head-on.  They brought the full might of their forces on a direct path with a tower with the intention of busting in the doors and killing everyone inside.  After a few rounds of taking losses by ballista, canon, and arrow, they realized their forces would be nothing but paste before they reached the doors and pulled back.  They set up camp just outside of ballista range and prepared for a siege.  Then the real problems began.

The city’s denizens were loyal to the guild which had brought them a deal of wealth and prosperity and actively made things as difficult as they could for the occupying force.  They declined to sell them any food or supplies, provide them with maps of the city’s layout, and regularly tried to sneak into the camp to sabotage supplies.  They even did their best to interfere with the PC’s scouts (often violently) which made it difficult for the PC’s to predict when their enemies would send a sortie.

The next big problem gripping the PC’s forces was sleep.  Their enemies had an alarm that they would blare from sundown to sunup which was loud enough to prevent sleep for much of the PC’s guild.  Between the lack of sleep, dwindling supplies, and mounting casualties from fighting off sorties, morale was low.  Only the incredible Leadership checks from the ‘White Knight’ character kept them from facing mass desertion after a few weeks, though a small trickle of deserters was inevitable.

It was coming close to midnight and my players were not ready to sue for peace just yet, despite their odds, and I didn’t want to break for the week because I wanted to begin the next adventure the following week.  It wasn’t unheard of for us to go to 1 if we were caught in a dungeon or something so we weren’t at anything ridiculous just yet.  Just to try to speed things to their inevitable conclusion, I made sure to drop some not-so-subtle hints as to where this was heading in the form of NPC members of the guild voicing their concerns that they would run out of supplies before they took the tower and continuing this course was just risking their guild members.  My players were having none of it.

They finally hit a ‘break’ when one of their scouting parties managed to finish their exploration of the sewers and mapped out a path that would lead them right to the base of the tower.  The PC’s gathered up their elite adventurers and prepared for a surprise attack to disable the tower’s defenses.  It almost worked, too, as they were able to get inside the range of the canons and right to the tower’s doors.  They then learned that the tower had an additional defenses they had not been close enough to experience before, namely, murder-holes and boiling oil.  Though they did succeed in busting down the first door, the damage they took sent them scuttling back down the sewers.

We’re past 1 now and I think we must be hitting a breaking point.  They’ve taken heavy losses, even with high Leadership checks the guild was ready to fall apart.   I probably should have called a break here, cause some of us were getting pretty tired, but I was so certain they would finally accept that they were not taking this tower anytime soon.  But sunk-cost-fallacy is a bitch.

What follows is a lengthy (and honestly probably not so fun) two hours of siege warfare where, somehow, the player guild manages to hold together (if just barely) and begin to exert more pressure on the tower.  It was as much of a war of stubbornness between me and my players; they considered anything less than the total annihilation of their enemy as defeat, while I refused to relent and let them just let them take the tower.  Maybe it was bullheaded of me, but that’s just kind of how I am as a DM, I don’t stop my players from taking on an impossible challenge but I also am not going to shift the world around to make the impossible possible.  We were at a stalemate.

Until the party’s tank, Brutus, decided he would break the tower’s defenses singlehandedly.  Brutus was part of a heavily armored class that was, being completely blunt, not well balanced.  We were playing a D&D 3.5 variant that was low-magic, and to make up for the lack of magical protection the ruleset had armor provide damage reduction.  For the most part this worked well, until you got to Brutus’s class, which increased this damage reduction to absurd proportions while also providing him with a massive pool of HP just in case a tiny bit of damage managed to trickle through.  The only reason the casualties for previous attempts at the tower had been as few as they were was because of Brutus shielding their forces with his own body.  At this point, he reckoned if he didn’t bother having to protect anyone he could tank enough damage to reach the tower himself.

What followed changed the tone of the campaign from gritty-blade-and-blood style to straight super hero.  Brutus charged straight at the tower, getting pretty far before being noticed (he was just one guy, after all, however heavily armored he was).  The arrows came … and literally could not do any damage to him.  On a critical I think the arrows could pierce him for 1 or 2 points, but they certainly weren’t going to wear him down anytime soon.  The ballista could harm him (if barely), but without an army to protect he could stay mostly in areas where they couldn’t really get a bead on him.  The canons were a bit of a problem, in the sense that a bee’s stinger is a problem for a giant.  His shield was completely obliterated by the canon fire and his health pool was depleted by maybe a quarter, but he reached the tower all right.

He didn’t really have the tools to bust down the door, but his intention was to disable the tower’s defense so he started climbing.  Hot tar and oil was poured on him, but they were more a threat to his grip than his health.  He reached the first set of canons, climbed inside (ignoring the attacks made on him by those inside, since their swords couldn’t hurt him) and manually destroyed the canons, then climbed out to repeat the process.  By the time he reached the last of the canon placements they were ready for him.  The leader of the enemy guild, a big and burly warrior type, slashed at his face with all the might he could put into his two handed sword.  Brutus took some damage and his helmet was destroyed,  but managed to avoid losing his grip on the wall.  Instead he lit a torch and tossed it into one of the room’s powder kegs.  One of, as in there were quite a few stacked up there.  The room exploded, and Brutus was sent flying away, impacting the ground like a falling meteor.  Still had enough HP to get up and walk away.

This was the beginning of the end for our brave besieged.  The attack by the unkillable titan that was Brutus left them shaken, leaderless, and without their strongest defenses (not to mention the damage to the interior of the tower the blast had caused).  The players were able to lead the remainder of their guild on an attack that finally broke through the doors of the tower and they made good on their promise to butcher everyone inside.

It was 4 am when we finished, and at least one of the players had fallen asleep.  The siege had lasted close to 6 hours, but the player’s had managed to prove that with enough stubbornness (and a super tank) they could in fact siege a tower that I had intended to be unsiegable.  It had taken them a great deal of time, cost them heavily in gold and personnel, and it would be a while before their guild recovered their numbers.  They will totally claim to this day that it was worth it.

The lesson in all this? Call your session breaks at regular times, despite whatever happens to be going on at the time, because while you may think things are about the wrap up … well, you are probably wrong.

The post Tales of A DM: Sieging the Unsiegable Tower appeared first on Phil-Domo's.

Maximilian awoke to a choking darkness, one so absolute and suffocating that he believed he must have a sack over his head. Wouldn’t be the first time. The slightest impression of movement around him denied that idea. He must be underground, then. A basement, or perhaps a cave. Also wouldn’t be the first time.

He sat up and saw he was unbound. Whoever his captors were apparently didn’t consider him much of a flight risk. Either they underestimated him or they thought very highly of their prison. Wherever this prison was. How long had he been out? A bump on the head, as his last memory would indicate, shouldn’t have kept him down for more than a few minutes, but if they had kept him drugged he could have been moved unawares almost anywhere. Also wouldn’t be the first time.

A sudden flash of light caused Maximilian, whose eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, to squint. When he was finally able to see he realized the light was coming from bright flames that had somehow sprouted from the wall. Hidden panels, perhaps?

A figure stood against the far wall, outlined by the light of the fire. It was odd the way the light played against him, as if it refused to reveal any detail of his person from the shadows.

Maximilian rose and flattened the wrinkles of his suit with his hand. No doubt the trick with the light was for his benefit, to try and intimidate him. He put on his most passive expression to show he was not impressed.

He addressed his captor in the same way he might address an ant he found in his kitchen. ���Let’s get on with it, shall we? You managed to get my attention, so you might as well tell me what you want.���

There was a light cackling that might have been a chuckle. ���Oh, do not fear. We will be getting started very soon.���

Maximilian stood tall to show he felt no fear. He was no stranger to being threatened, to being captured, or even being tortured. It came with the territory. When your business associates included African warlords, religious extremists, and one particularly unpleasant Australian woman, it was inevitable. The key was to not lose control of the situation. Everyone wanted something from him, be it money, weapons, influence, or in one strange case, a spot on a late night talk show. He could offer those things, but he had to be careful not to seem desperate. No pleading for his life, promising them whatever they wanted. That would only make them demand more. If he played his cards right, he could even turn this situation around in his favor. One of his more profitable warlord relations started in a situation just like this.

���You could at least show some manners,��� he scoffed. ���Offer an introduction, or at least a drink. Something alcoholic, preferably.���

Another cackle. ���I was told I would find you interesting. The business man. The cutthroat. A man who would do anything to make another dime, sell anything to make another nickel.���

With a sigh, Maximilian said, ���Don’t tell me you are going to lecture me about my business methods?��� Was this one of those anti-capitalist groups? Not that it would change his tactics for dealing with them, but it would mean he would be subjected to hours of lectures before they got to the point.

���Quite the opposite. Once I learned a bit about you, I became a fan. I admire your ruthlessness, your willingness to do what it takes. Your success is testament to your effectiveness. It makes me wish that we had met earlier. We could have accomplished great things together.���

If his captor’s goal was to disorient him with the mix of intimidating presence and strange compliments, it was somewhat effective. It was certainly a different tact than his captors would usually take. In his experience, they were either aggressively hostile to attempt to bully him into meeting their demands, or sickeningly friendly to ‘bond’ with him.

���And what business is it that you are in?��� Maximilian asked, hoping to garner a shred of usable information.

���The world domination business.���

Maximilian smirked. ���Aren’t we all?��� So weapons, probably. ���If you are looking to work together, I might need a little more than that, though.���

���Oh, no. As I said before, that time has passed. I just wanted a moment to speak with you before I get started. There is only one thing I need from you.���

���And what is that?��� Maximilian asked with a scowl, not liking his inability to predict his captor’s train of thought.

His captor cackled yet again. ���You will see.���

The figure stepped away from the wall and Maximilian found himself surprisingly anxious to be face-to-face with his captor. When was the last time he had been anxious? Back with that little run in with the FTC two years ago? That inspector had been surprisingly resilient to both bribes and intimidation. It had taken the intricate planning of an unfortunate accident to finally end the investigation.

To Maximilian’s fascination, the shadows that cloaked his features did not waver as he stepped closer. Even as he passed right by the flames on the wall, the light couldn’t seem to touch him. It had to be more than just a trick of the lighting. Was it some kind of active camouflage technology? He had heard about developments in that area but had never had a chance to see it in action.

He was still watching the shadowed figure with great interest when a cloaked hand reached out for him. It touched his collar and for a moment Maximilian thought his captor was going to adjust his tie. Certain men found that to be a power move. Instead the hand just lingered there, an uncomfortably intimate gesture.

Suddenly Maximilian was very cold despite the warmth of the chamber. It was as if someone had replaced his blood with ice water. His heart raced as an intense pressure bloomed on his chest. He tried to raise his arms to push away his captor and found his body wouldn’t respond. All he could do was stand, paralyzed, as his heart beat faster and faster and his body got colder and colder.

An impossible amount of time passed, an eternity. When his captor finally removed his hand from Maximilian, he was holding something ��� something strange yet familiar. It was an orb of the deepest black, darker by indescribable magnitudes than the shadows around it. The orb pulsated in beat with Maximilian’s heart, thumping rapidly at first and slowly quickly as the energy fled from his body.

He didn’t know what the orb was, but he knew, instinctively, that the orb was his. And it was precious to him. More important than all the money he had ever made, more important than any of his businesses, more important than his success and reputation. He would have traded every one of those things away in an instant if only he could recover it.

With a trembling hand Maximilian reached for it, a pleading murmur escaping from his lips. The last of his energy escaped him and the darkness closed in. Maximilian’s last thoughts as his life faded away were of something he had never known before: regret.

The void beckoned to Arthur, promising him the peace and solitude of its endless expanses if he would just step a little closer. Taking that step was proving an insurmountable challenge. It was all much clearer to him now, a result of his recent practice. The reflections of those using their power, the surreal forms of physical world objects, the ever present city in the unreachable distance. But something still preventing Arthur from making that step, crossing the gap from merely viewing the void and crossing into it bodily.

On the verge of exhaustion, Arthur allowed himself a break. His mind drifted back to his body, and he blinked as vision filled with the clear, sunny day surrounding him. He rose and stretched, the stiffness in his legs giving him an idea of just how long he had been at it. Despite hours upon hours of practice every day he seemed to be getting no closer to traversing the void on his own. In the meantime, if he was deciphering what he saw in the void accurately, things were getting bad. The minions of Adaghast were running unchecked.

He walked to the other side of the farmhouse to the training area. It had taken quite a bit of effort (as well as a healthy expenditure from the Riley account) to fix it up after the damage done by Aer. Even now it hardly looked the same, particularly with some many of the surrounding trees reduced to stumps.

Ai stood with a look that bordered awfully close to pride as their students practiced using their elements. They had all been at it really hard lately, motivated in their own ways by the recent battles, determined to never find themselves so outmatched again. Arthur had even caught Ai training during the early hours before the students awoke and her duties changed to those a teacher.

Sam’s progress was the most exceptional. A spiral of flames as thick around as a tree trunk snaked around him, twisting by his face, over his shoulders, and around his legs, close enough that it was a wonder he wasn’t singed. Despite the power he was channeling he didn’t seem to be breaking a sweat. Arthur had to repress an involuntary shudder as old memories threatened to resurface.

Marco was finally starting to get the hang of outward projections of his element. He was in a stance similar to his boxing form, stomping on the ground with his leading leg and bringing a large chunk of rock into the air. He punched out, sending the rock hurtling towards the awaiting Peter. Peter swung at the projectile with his impossibly-heavy bat. They connected with a sound like thunder, sending the rock flying into the distance.

���Come on, Mascle!��� Peter called. ���You can toss bigger ones than that!���

���Watch what you wish for, Lins,��� Marco replied with a smirk.

Arthur sighed. ���Don’t tell me they’ve got you doing that last name, too, Marco.���

Marco turned his grin on Arthur as he approached. ���It’s a bonding thing.���

Peter planted his bat in the ground with a resounding thud. ���You can get in on it, too. What is your last name, Arthur?���

Arthur scratched the back of his head. ���Would you believe I don’t remember? I was kind of young when Ryu took me in. I can barely remember my parents.���

With an awkward cough, Peter glanced over at Ai. ���How about you?���

���Orphan.��� Her voice was as passive as if she was describing the weather.

For some reason, Sam laughed. ���Hey, Lins, I’m starting to think our backstories aren’t tragic enough.���

���I don’t know,��� Peter replied. ���You’ve had to live your whole life with that face. That’s pretty tragic.���

Sam’s fire snake came to rest at his feet. ���Not quite as bad as that game you had against West Side. Mercy ruled after four innings, right?���

The two exchanged friendly barbs, with Marco jumping in occasionally with details on his ever-depressing fall from boxing grace.

Ai stepped up to Arthur with an icy glare. ���I take it your training is going well, if you have time to interrupt our students.���

���Oh yeah, just great,��� Arthur lied. ���Just needed a moment to regain my energy. How are things going here?���

���As well as could be expected. Sam has a great deal more control, and Marco is starting to get a hang of projecting his power. I wish I could be more help to Peter’s progress, but I have to admit I don’t understand the Wood Element too well. His ability to feel the life in others has improved.��� She seemed thoughtful. ���He says Ryu is getting stronger.���

���That’s good news. We could really use him right now.��� Arthur grimaced as the recent memory of a man, most likely a carrier, being consumed forever by the darkness. They were helpless until either Ryu got back on his feet or Arthur mastered the void. ���I should get back to it.���

He left to the sounds of Ai barking orders for the students to begin their physical conditioning exercises for the day. Everyone was working hard. Now was not the time to be slacking.

It was only a few hours later that day when Arthur had a big breakthrough. When attempting again to cross the boundary from viewing the void and entering into it, he found the barrier he had to expect suddenly absent. It’s disappearance was so unexpected that Arthur found himself plunging through the void instead of taking a controlled step. It was all he could do to gain control of his focus and avoid losing his physical form.

He found the flow of the Light and used it as a guidepost to stabilize himself and stop his uncontrolled drifting. To his surprise, he found that he had traveled quite far from his entrance back at the farmhouse in a short period of time. Nearby, the Light produced a twisted image of a busy highway that existed somewhere in the physical world. Cars, or the idea of cars, raced by him, disappearing into puffs of white mist as they reached the end of image.

While Arthur was trying to figure out how to reposition himself to travel back to the farmhouse, he noticed movement coming from something other than the cars. Black tendrils stretched through the void at the speed of a pouncing predator. Before Arthur had a chance to react the tendrils had stretched into the image. The highway cracked, twisted, and then shattered, sending Arthur spiraling out of control.

The void wasn’t dark so much as it was empty, its vastness somehow completely devoid of both darkness and light. When Arthur found himself completely surrounded by darkness he knew he was in trouble. He launched himself in the last direction he thought the farmhouse entrance was in. He didn’t make it far before the dark tendrils wrapped themselves around him, pulled at him, threatened to pull him apart and scatter his physical form across the void.

Arthur wanted to fight back. He wanted to yell his defiance at it. He wanted to scream. But it was all he could do just to hold himself together.

The darkness seemed to pulsate around him, a rhythmic thumping that reminded Arthur of a heartbeat, Among this thumping, Arthur swear he heard a voice calling out to him: MINE!

There was no question to Arthur the source of the voice: Adaghast, the Dark God. And he felt despair.

A flash of Light and Arthur was blinded. His ears with filled with a roar that might have shaken the entirety of the void. As Arthur’s senses returned to him, he saw Ruvian, the dragon that existed as part of the flow of the Light, cutting a swath through the darkness. It roared, and the tendrils retreated before it. Arthur was freed from their grasp, and only then did he realize that he had not been breathing. Or what passed for breathing in the void.

The dragon formed a circle around him using its serpentine body, shielding Arthur from further attempts from the tendrils. Arthur felt himself being caught in its wake, drifting through void at Ruvian’s whim. He could feel the darkness of Adaghast following close on their heels, staying just out of the reach of Ruvian’s fury. The darkness continued to grow, to consume the void around it, to become more powerful. How long before even Ruvian was consumed?

Ruvian guided a grateful, and confused, Arthur back to the entrance from the farmhouse. For a moment, Arthur looked back at the growing darkness, and then at Ruvian. The dragon seemed as indomitable as ever, yet there was something else, something different that only became apparent when the darkness was upon it. Something ��� human.

A moment later Arthur was back at the farm, his physical senses returning and his mind racing to catch up with what he just saw. The power of Adaghast.

And The Dark God had just seen him.

Slowly, Arthur tried to rise to his feet. He failed. Instead he collapsed into a heap, his breath coming rapidly, his head spinning, his whole body shaking. Arthur had known fear; he had faced and overcome it many times. He was even vaguely familiar with terror. What he felt right now, what that encroaching darkness had made him feel ��� neither of those words came close to doing justice. A sense of hopelessness washed over him as the full gravity of the enemy he faced came to rest on his shoulders.

And then Arthur did something he had not done since that day all those years ago when his parents were taken from him: he cried.

The post Chapter 19: Tendrils appeared first on Phil-Domo's.

As Ryu feared, the child was not in his bed. He had been having terrible nightmares ever since the tragedy that befell his home. During the day he seemed to be adjusting aright; at the very least, he was eating his meals, more than could be said those first few days. The nights were the problem. Ryu, unfortunately, had very little experience with children.

He found Arthur in his usual hiding place, in the closet, cradling himself behind a nest of shirts and blankets. The poor boy was terrified, and Ryu was at a lost of how to comfort him.

���What’s the matter, champ?��� Ryu asked, lowering himself to the boy’s level. The words were awkward in his mouth, and not for the first time he wished he had more to go on for child raising than old sitcoms.

The only response he got was a light whimpering. Ryu added that to the list of unhelpful quotes.

Some time passed, Ryu silently, patiently waiting for the boy to feel like speaking. When he finally did, his voice was little more than a whisper. ���He found me again.���

Ryu did not need to ask who he was referring to. Arthur was plagued with nightmares of the night he lost his family, and of the man who had taken his family from him.

���He can’t come after you anymore,��� Ryu reassured him, as he had almost every night since he had taken the boy in. ���He is dead. I killed him.���

The boy didn’t seem convinced. ���What ’bout otha monsters? They’re more like ’em, ain’t there?���

For a moment, Ryu considered lying to the boy. But that wouldn’t do him any good in the long run. One day, this boy would need to face those monsters.

Not today, though. ���No one can find you here, Arthur. This place is safe. I will keep you safe.���

���What if you’re not around!��� the boy insisted, a kind of desperation in his voice.

Ryu scratched at the back of his head as he pondered some way to convince the boy. His fingers idly grasped at the edges of the old straw hat hanging off the back of his neck. Perhaps a little dishonesty might help here, after all, just until the nightmares had passed.

He pulled the hat off and plopped it onto the boy’s head. It completely dwarfed him, encompassing him all the way to his shoulders. ���All of my power is in this hat,��� Ryu said. ���So as long as you are wearing it, you can do what I do. This way, even if I’m not around, the bad guys can’t you.���

Arthur lifted the hat off his face so he could see. ���Really?��� he asked, sounding as if he wanted to believe but wasn’t quite sure.

���Try it yourself.���

Arthur held out a fist in a childish imitation of the stance Ryu had shown him. Ryu fell back, pretending to be hit with a powerful force.

���Woah, careful there, Arthur,��� Ryu said. ���It’s not a toy. Only use that power in emergencies, okay?���

The boy’s eyes widened in the kind of amazement only a child could feel as he took off the hat and held it in front of him, his young mind attempting to unravel its secrets. ���Okay!���

Arthur gripped his hat tightly as he watched his old mentor sleep. Ryu seemed to have aged overnight. Or perhaps he was just finally looking his age. It was hard to imagine Ryu as weak. They had known about Ryu’s heart problems for a while now, knew the risks that would be involved if he pushed himself through channeling. But he had always seemed so ��� eternal. A fixture in the world as ancient and unchanging as the Elemental flows themselves.

Seeing him in this state was rough, to say the least. It was the shattering of one of the core pillars of his life. He took a small comfort from the familiar feel of the straw hat in his hands. It was strange: he hadn’t even realized how much he had missed it until he had gotten it back. Ryu had given it to him when he was only a child, and for some reason he felt more confident when he had it.

Eventually, he had to leave his teacher’s side. He still had responsibilities to attend to.

Ai was waiting for him outside the room. ���He’s improving,��� she assured him. ���He was up earlier long enough to eat a little. He’ll be up and about in no time.���

Arthur nodded. Neither of them wanted to vocalize what they both feared: Ryu would never be the same again. Could their powerful and wise teacher be replaced with a frail old man?

It was this fear that caused Arthur to reach a decision. ���I need you to take over training the others.���

Ever perceptive, Ai didn’t need him to explain. ���You want to master crossing into the void yourself.���

���Ryu may no longer be able to do it. Plus, I saw how Ullen was able to create a path while stepping into the void. I think I can replicate it.��� It was risky. If he messed up, lost his concentration for even a moment, his physical being could be unraveled into the Elemental Flows. It was one he had to take. ���Every moment we’re stuck here, unable to act ������

Ai nodded her understanding. With Ryu down, any new carriers were defenseless.

Who knew how many were in danger right now?

Maximilian Pengrass waited for the doctor to finish his blathering with great agitation. He checked the time on his thirty-thousand dollar Rolex watch and noted that the fool had been rambling on for the better part of two minutes. The doctor had been fortunate that no more important calls has come in; Maximilian would have hung up on him in a second.

His patience had its limits, though, and as the doorman of his uptown apartment building held the path open to him he had reached it. ���Okay, I’m going to have to stop you right there, doc,��� Maximilian interjected as he stepped outside, wincing for a moment against the blaring sunlight. ���This is about money, right?���

A pause. ���Well, it’s about your father,��� a befuddled voice responded. ���As I was explaining, the procedure he needs -���

���Costs how much?���

Another pause. ���Around sixty-four thousand dollars, after his insurance has covered its share. I know it is a lot, but we have plenty of payment-plan options to help -���

���Please,��� Maximilian scoffed. ���I make that much before I take my morning shit.���

���So then you’d be willing to -���

���You know the only time one of my relatives tries to get in touch with me is when they money? ‘Oh, Suzy needs braces.’ ‘Jimmy’s invention just needs an investment.’ ‘Your mom can’t afford her retirement home.’ I’m going to tell you what I told all of them: ‘no hand-outs.’���

There was some exasperated stuttering on the other side of the line. ���Sir, without this procedure, your father will likely die.���

���Then he’d best find a way to come up with the money. He’s still got both his kidneys, right? Let him sell one. But I’m not about to be his god-damned piggy-bank.���

He hung up before the doctor could make a plea to familial duty of his goodwill. His father was a grown man. How was it his responsibility that he hadn’t worked hard enough, invested wise enough, to be able to afford his own medical expenses?

Maximilian hadn’t just fallen into his wealth. He had worked for it, scrounged for it, gotten his hands dirty for it. Every penny scraped, every opportunity taken, every business rival defeated. That it why he could afford the custom-tailored Dulce & Gabbana suit, the Gucci aviator sunglasses, the six-hundred dollar hair cut. He had earned those things with his own sweat and blood, and yet everywhere he looked it seemed someone wanted to take a piece from him. And if he held onto his hard-earned cash, suddenly he was ‘greedy.’

He passed his phone to one of the few people in the world who understood him, Gregory Fust. ���Block that number before they waste any more of my time.���

Fust, his assistant and bodyguard, quietly performed the task. He was a rare find, part of a dying breed of the quietly ambitious. His nearly seven-feet of sleek muscle and hard lines didn’t reflect his intelligence and his desire for more. He had worked for a private military contractor for several years, building quite the reputation for his effectiveness and willingness to get down in the dirt. When he decided his employer was not paying him what he was worth he went looking for something better, and of course Maximilian snagged him right up.

As an assistant he was competent, and as a bodyguard he had proved his worth time and again during Maximilian’s trips to third-world countries. Maximilian paid him what he worth, and in return got his loyalty. See, Maximilian wasn’t actually greedy, despite what people claimed. He just gave people what they were worth to him.

When was the last time his father had provided any value?

His Mercedes was waiting in the street where the valet always parked it. Today it seemed to come with a bit of special add-on: a young woman seated cross-legged on his hood. Not that this was an altogether unfamiliar occurrence; women would often seek him to gold-dig. If they were attractive, he might even indulge them.

Today he was too busy, though. Plus, this woman wasn’t really his type. Sure, she seemed cute enough at first glance, with that curly strawberry hair and that bright smile, and she seemed to have a pretty good figure, but that face was marred with freckles and her figure was ruined by the torn jacket and sweatpants she was wearing.

���Oh, you’re finally here!��� she beamed. ���I’ve been waiting. You’re as cute as you were described!���

Maximilian gestured for Fust to remove her from the hood of his car. ���Sorry, kid, I got places to be today.���

The overshadowing figure out Fust loomed over the girl we he put a hand on her shoulder to forcibly move her.

The girl wriggled in his grasp, but it wasn’t the rough squirming of someone trying to break out of a hold. There was something oddly sexual about the way she was gyrating. ���Oh, you’re exactly my type,��� she said, looking up at the big man. ���I really wish I had time to play with you.��� She licked her lips. ���But the boss-man said I can’t take a break to have fun. I have to bring your friend right back.���

Ignoring the girl’s strange comments, Fust pulled the girl by the shoulder off the hood. She didn’t resist, but as she went past him she swiped her fingers at his face like a claw. Fust instinctively leaned back to avoid getting scratched by her fingernails, having learned several harsh lessons from the frenzied women he had expelled from his boss’s apartment in the past. He thought he had ducked away with plenty of time to spare, but to his surprise he felt a sharp pain spread across his face. An intense one.

Letting go of the woman, he clutched his face and felt the warm flow of blood drip through his fingers. This was no surface-level fingernail scratch; she had pierced him deeply. Fortunately she hadn’t nicked his eyes, but the pain was pretty severe nonetheless.

���Now then,��� the young woman said, sauntering over towards the frustrated Maximilian and putting a hand on his collar. ���We have places to be.���

���Get your dirty hands off me!��� Maximilian barked. ���Fust!���

The big man was already behind her, trusty combat knife in hand. He didn’t see any weapons in the woman’s hand, but knew she must have been hiding something to do that kind of damage to his face, and his boss needed to be protected. Without mercy he jabbed the knife at the woman’s back.

There was a loud clang of metal meeting metal. The knife recoiled in Fust’s hand and he nearly dropped it. Was the woman wearing some kind of protective material underneath that jacket? Whatever it was, it was tough enough to crack the edge of his blade.

���Naughty,��� the woman chimed. She turned around and swiped her fingers at him again. He jumped back this time, and felt as something cut through the air just an inch from his face. The woman stopped to give a wide, joyous smile, and he could now see these sleek, polished black blades extending a few inches from the tips of her fingers. He could have sworn those weren’t there just a moment ago, nor could tell how those blades were attached.

���Stop fucking around Fust!��� Maximilian ordered. ���Put this bitch down!���

Fust gave a brief shrug, then with one fluid motion dropped his knife and drew his concealed FN Five-seven handgun. Firing the weapon in public would come with hassles, though he was sure his boss would cover any legal expenses. In an instant he took aim at the dangerous girl and fired.

Somehow, at near point-blank range, he missed. Fust never missed. Back in his private-military days his squadmates had joked that he must have had robotic eyes, like a Terminator. After a confirmed kill he would have to deal with all the bad Austrian accents for hours.

He pulled the trigger again, then again, and yet again. Each shot seemed lined up in a perfect trajectory for his target. Each seemed to miss her by inches. It was as if the bullets were somehow curving at impossible angles. Was there something wrong with his gun?

���Fust what the hell are you doing!?��� Maximilian yelled. ���My car!���

It was only then that Fust realized every one of his missed shots had somehow wound up in the side of his boss’s Mercedes. Momentarily distracted, he didn’t realized until too late that the blade on the woman’s pointer finger had been pointed at him and was somehow growing at an extreme rate in his direction. He tried to dodge but there was not enough time. The blade caught him in the shoulder, piercing deep into him. The blade continued to grow, sending Fust on a ride into the side of Maximilian’s upper-scale apartment building. The strange metal spike detached from the woman’s finger, leaving Fust hanging by his shoulder a foot off the ground, consciousness fading as blood seeped out of his wound.

A stunned Maximilian quickly looked around for help as the woman again sauntered towards him. Any bystanders were quickly running from the sounds of gunfire. Even the doorman had managed to disappear. Gathering himself, he faced his strange assaulter with a scowl. ���What do you want? Money, isn’t it?���

���Oh no, it isn’t your money I want,��� the woman cooed. ���It is you I desire.���

Something heavy struck Maximilian on his head and the world went dark.

Maria Flores was sweating under the thick layers of her Kevlar vest. The tenseness of the situation was certainly not helping any. She and the other members of the Upper East SWAT had been standing in position for the better part of twenty minutes, just waiting to be given the order to breach.

In front of her was the side entrance of the bank, which led through the security room onto the back end of the main floor. That was wear five heavily armed gunmen were currently holding a dozen bank employees, five clients, and one security guard hostage after a failed robbery attempt. Maria’s team had been on standby for an hour while the situation escalated, then half-an-hour ago one of the gunmen had shot the security guard when he had tried to play hero. They claimed he was still alive, but either way it had been decided that things were bad enough that Maria’s team was going to need to go in there. It was risky; the gunmen might kill the hostages the instant the door was breached. But not doing anything was riskier.

Her team had gotten into position quickly and had been waiting for the go-ahead. No telling what the cause of the delay was. Perhaps those in charge were trying one last attempt at negotiation. Nothing Maria could do but wait. Her hands were sweating on the grip of her P220 and she wiped them on the front of her pants. Around her the rest of the team seemed just as nervous as she was, both the experienced and the younger. This was not a job that got substantially easier with experience, and this operation was one of the most dangerous they had been called to. Both for them, and for the hostages inside.

A crackle on comms. ���You’re clear to breach.���

Maria nodded to rest of her team. She counted down from three. Then everything all seemed to happen at once.

A blast as the door was blown open. Shouting from inside as the main floor was flooded with tear gas. Flashes of movement. Gunfire from her side as the teammate on her left flank release the fury of his assault rifle.

She sensed something at the other end of the room, and focusing her attention she spotted two of the gunmen through the haze of gas making a break from the gathered crowd of civilians, intent, no doubt, to use them as human shields. Maria leveled her gun and squeezed the trigger. It was strange; during intense situations Maria didn’t seem to need to waste time aiming. Her bullets just seemed to know where they needed to go. She chocked it up to instinct, the hours of practice at the shooting range paying off when she needed it the most.

Her chosen target went down in a heap as the bullet impacted his chest. The other turned and returned fire in her direction. She fired back while praying, willing, that none of those shots hit her. Her bullets hit the mark. The gunman’s didn’t. Didn’t even get close, really. In his panic his aim must have been terribly off.

It was all over in thirty seconds. The gunmen were down, the hostages had managed to come through, coughing from tear gas but alive. The security guard was in critical condition but still breathing. And none of Maria’s team had taken a hit. Overall, a mission success.

A short time later, Maria and her team were outside, patting each other on the back for a job well done, with an embarrassed Maria getting the bulk of the compliments. Mostly because everyone knew how uncomfortable they made her.

���Did you see how she didn’t even flinch as those bullets went flying by her?���

Maria squirmed. ���It’s not that ��� I didn’t want to give him an opportunity to get to the hostages so I needed to hold my ground ������

���Every one of her shots hit! Has anyone ever seen miss?���

���I miss s-sometimes,��� she stammered. Not on missions, but at the shooting range. ���It’s luck, really.���

���How did she even see those two through the gas? We were told the gunmen were all clustered on the east side of the floor. She’s got like, spider-senses.���

A beet-red Maria was grateful when their commanding officer pulled her away from the chuckling crowd. ���There’s someone here who insists on seeing you,��� he explained. ���I told him to come find you another day, that you deserve a rest after today, but he started talking my ear off ������

���It’s fine,��� Maria responded. ���Who is this guy, anyway?���

���A representative of some government agency called ‘ECT’. Never heard of them, but apparently they’re some kind of military think-tank.���

The man in question was an older guy, with lightly grayed hair and thick glasses. He gave Maria the widest smile she had ever seen and rushed up to shake her hand.

���Ms. Flores!��� he declared as he forcibly justled her arm up and down. ���I’m so glad to finally meet you. My name is Stacks, I’m a recruiter for the ECT. I’ve been following your career for some time now and I have to say I am very impressed.���

���You have?��� Maria asked, trying not to let her discomfort show. Why did she have such problem with anything even remotely resembling a compliment.

���Oh, why yes indeed!��� Stacks enthusiastically replied. ���Completed a four-year degree in Criminal Justice in only two. First in your class at the police academy. Many commendations in your three years on the force. Passed the SWAT examinations and training with flying colors, and have been a star member of your team since. Not to mention you hold two black belts and are working on a third, if I am correct?���

Not compliments, just the facts. So why was her face reddening? ���Yes, that’s all right. Why are you so interested?���

Stacks adjusted his glasses and gave her a look like a game show host about to announce what she had just won. ���My employers would like to offer a job to you, Ms. Flores.���

Nearby, a bored Myst wasted his time on a phone game while waiting for Stacks to complete his spiel to the carrier.

The Forked Tongue Restaurant catered to a clientele of wealthy politicians, their donors, their spouses, and their mistresses. Its patrons were dressed in custom-tailored suits, stunning dresses, and expensive jewelry. Needless to say, Madeline’s 80’s fashion drew quite a few looks.

She ignored all these glances, and the few protests of the servers, and found the table she was looking for. Senator Vermon was as predictable as always, sitting at the same table in the same restaurant he had every other Tuesday for the past decade. He was busily typing away at his phone.

���How’s it hanging, Verm?��� Madeline asked as she plopped down in the seat across from him.

Vermon barely glanced up from from his phone. ���You know, there is a dress code here.���

���Is that how you greet an old friend, Verm? Especially one who used to be so close?��� She leaned across the table. ���So close that they learned quite a few of your secrets, yeah?

The manager of the restaurant was approaching now, ready to deal with the disruptor, and call security if he needed. Sighing, Vermon waved him away. He would have to come up for some explanation for this later.

���My 3 o’clock appointment didn’t show,��� Vermon stated, finally putting his phone away. ���That’s the only reason I am entertaining you right now. You have five minutes to tell me what you want.���

���Right to point. You always were a quick-shot.��� She laughed, a high pitched chortle. ���Alright, Verm. I’ll get to it. I was recently told that there’s stuff going down behind the scenes. Carriers being targeted. You understand why that would catch my interest, right?���

Vermon didn’t say anything.

Madeline smirked. ���A dead fish, as well. Look, I need you to use your contacts at the ECT and get the skinny on what’s going on. I’d be very grateful for the information, you know?���

���Oh?��� He reached under the table and put a hand on her knee. ���How grateful?���

He only just barely stifled a yelp as a shock ran up his hand and down his arm.

���Now, now, Verm. It was all fun and games in the past, but you know I don’t fool around with married men.���

���I’ll be sure to inform my wife’s lovers of your commitment.��� Vermon replied dryly.

���Look, Verm. You and I both know that some of the stuff I know, the stuff I got, well, if any of it gets out, you will have more than a loveless marriage to worry about.���

Vermon scowled but couldn’t argue the point. ���I’ll ask around. No promises.���

���Thanks, Verm. You’re the best.��� She gave him a kiss on the cheek, then was merrily on her way, winking at a confused busboy along the way.

With a sigh, Vermon held up his empty glass towards the closest. ���Yeah, think I’m going to need something stronger.���

Deep within the void, along the flow of the Element of Light, the being known as Ruvian, a being that existed now only as a part of that flow, that took the form of a dragon during those rare moments it was allowed form at all, watched as a familiar figure struggled to open a path through the flows. It was the boy who called to him these days, the one who desired to control his power.

The tendrils of the Dark One were everywhere now, grasping, trying to grab the boy and rip him bodily into the void, to make him lose himself and become a formless nothing. That Ruvian could not allow. The boy might not be aware of it, but Ruvian’s presence kept him shielded, kept him safe from the growing power the Dark One possessed.

But for how much longer would Ruvian’s power alone be enough?

The post Chapter 18: While the Cat’s Away appeared first on Phil-Domo's.

The following is a short story I wrote a while back with the intention of it being the first of many short stories set in a new fantasy world that would eventually come together and lead into a larger novel.  Plans changed, the other short stories never got made, but I’m still quite proud of the one I did write and would like to share it here.

Tale of a Deserter

by P.F. Davids

The deserter forced himself to press on, knowing that if he stopped to rest even for a moment he might never get back up. One step after another, legs burning, stomach panging with hunger, throat bone dry, he slowly made his way through the flatlands. His focus was fixed on an outline in the distance, what he could only hope was a town, or at least a village. He dared not look behind him. Though he had left it behind weeks ago, he feared if he turned around he would still see the imperial stronghold, its massive towers looming over him and watching his pathetic attempt to flee.

He was an Emperor’s man down to his very core. When the call came out for volunteers to cross the Black Sea and take this land for Ambrosen Empire, land that the Emperor was rightly due by marriage, Colin had been on one of the first ships. He had been full of righteous vigor back then, ready to bleed the usurpers who dared question the Emperor’s claim, and bleed himself if it came down to it.

So what if he had accepted a few bribes? So what if he had turned a blind eye a few times when weapons and equipment went missing? Did he really deserve to be executed? Did all of his years of service really mean nothing?

Colin had been left with no choice. He fled the first chance he got. If he had stayed and faced trial, he would have undoubtedly been hung. He had thought he would find sanctuary in a village in the flatlands but instead only found ruins. Safe behind the walls of the stronghold, he had never realized the amount of devastation the war had brought. He had been wandering for weeks and his supplies had long since dwindled to nothing.

A cold wind hit him with its full force and he brought his coat tighter around him. It was the final days of autumn; soon the flatlands would be covered in the white blanket of winter. If he could somehow avoid dying of thirst and hunger, he might yet live to freeze to death.

Not how I ever imagined myself dying, he thought. I thought I would be cut down on the battlefield. Or take a knife in the gut from a prostitute.

He finally reached the outskirts of the village. Or what had once been a village. The few homes and shacks that once made up the community all had their doors smashed open and had no doubt been looted clean. There was no sign of what had become of the inhabitants.

Colin briefly allowed himself to wonder whether this had been the work of the imperials or one of their enemies. Either way, the end result is the same. He shook off the thought and brought his focus back to his own survival.

In the center of the village he found a stone well. He whispered a small prayer to whatever gods might be listening as he lowered the bucket down into it. When he heard the splash he would have leaped for joy if he had any strength to do so. As it was, it took him all the strength he had left just to pull the bucket back up.

The cool water tasted better to him than the finest wine. After he drunk his fill, he soaked his rag and used it to wash off some of the grime from his travels. The rag bore the mark of the Ambrosen Empire, a shield emblazoned with the head of a lion. It had once served as his sash, an important symbol of his rank. Now it and his coat were his only mementos of his life as an officer.

He sat at the edge of the well and washed the rag clean again as he planned his next move. With his strength returning his future seemed a bit less bleak. He had water, and there might yet be food in one of these houses. It would be dark soon, so he would rest here for the night. In the morning he would pack up anything he could find and continue west. Eventually he would find civilization.

His imperial pride flared to the surface. There is nothing a man of the Empire can’t survive! Moments later, he squashed it down. Though you are no longer a man of the Empire. You are a deserter, a particularly cowardly one at that.

The chilled night air brought him out of his self-pity. He took shelter in the nearest home, a tiny dwelling of only one room that had served as both a living and sleeping area. Nothing remained of any furniture, so Colin just leaned back in a corner furthest from the door and covered himself with his coat. He fell asleep thinking of glories both past and imagined, and what kind of future a deserter possibly hope for.

#

Colin was awoken early in the morning by the sound of hoofbeats. As the world took form the noise was joined by the sounds of shouting and a creaking that Colin immediately recognized as an overburdened wagon or cart.

A merchant caravan passing through, perhaps? If they are not flying the imperial colors, I may be saved.

He groggily picked himself and stumbled towards the entrance of the home. He carefully peeked through the broken doorway. There was indeed a caravan passing through, but not of the kind of merchant he wanted to deal with.

A dozen small carts passed by, each pulled by a single horse. In each cart were two metal animal cages, most of them full, but not with animals. A broken-spirited collection of people occupied the cages, sitting or crouched in uncomfortable positions. Most of them seemed young, though there were a few well-built older men as well, the kind who would be good for labor. Alongside the carts a handful of armed men strolled.

Slavers.

Slavery was outlawed in the Empire. In fact, ending such barbarianism and bringing justice to savage lands was the Empire’s creed. His sudden sense of righteous indignation was quickly quelled by his fear of discovery. Slavers had an obvious reason to hate imperials.

He was backing slowly away from the door when a voice caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

���Whoever is in there might as well come out now.���

There was no question that the commanding voice was directed at this house. Colin froze and panic started to set in. He was unarmed and outnumbered. There was nowhere to run. He would not be able to hide his imperial dress and accent. As soon as he stepped outside, he was as good as dead.

The voice called out again. ���I’ll make you a deal. Come out now, and we won’t have to come in there and make things messy.���

Colin could only think of one plan. If he could not hide his imperial origins, he might as well use it to project authority. He was an officer, after all. Perhaps if he projected enough confidence, they would be hesitant to assault him.

He adjusted his coat, sorry state that it was, and ran his fingers through his brown hair. He stood as straight as he could muster and strode through the doorway while trying to ignore the hammering in his chest.

Outside, he was met by two rough looking men. Their dark hair and tanned skin gave them away as locals as much as his light skin gave him away as a foreigner. The one on the left looked very much the slaver type, tall and muscular with a face that might have been cut from stone, wearing rough cut leather. The other was shorter, about Colin’s height, and while his face was as rough as his partner’s, his manner of dress was completely different; he dressed entirely in silks in the manner of the wealthy merchant houses. The large man was armed with a sword, currently sheathed at his side, while the smaller one had a whip coiled around his shoulder.

Colin did his best to project an air of indifference. ���What is it this early in the morning?���

The slavers regarded him curiously. The smaller one stepped forward. ���What do we have here?��� His voice was the same as the one that had called Colin out of hiding.

���Looks like an imperial, boss,��� the larger one said.

���A damn grimy one at that.���

Colin stuck his head up high. ���You should watch how you address an imperial officer. I am Captain Colin Worther, of the Ambrosen Military. And who might you be?���

The slaver boss smiled toothily. ���I might be Alonzo, and I might be in charge of this little caravan.��� He gestured to the carts and their burdens. ���What do you think of that?���

Colin frowned. There was only one believable response. ���Slavery is outlawed in the Empire.���

���Intend to arrest me?���

Colin was careful not to break eye contact with the slaver, lest he made himself appear weak. ���Not my job. I am here to get the local lords in line with the Emperor. Let someone else clean up the slavers.���

Alonzo chuckled. ���Guess we’d best move on before that man arrives, eh?���

���Guess so.���

The large man scratched at stubble of his jaw. ���Know what I don’t get, boss? What’s an imperial captain doing all the way out here, all by his lonesome?���

���That’s a very good question, Nevio,��� Alonzo replied. ���Well, Captain?���

Colin attempted to keep the steely demeanor of an officer. ���I was separated from my men in the fighting. I’ve been attempting to make my way back on my own, but it has been slow going.���

I might not be good at much, but I have always been skilled at lying.

Alonzo tsked. ���Such a pity, that.���

���Dangerous to be traveling these parts alone,��� added Nevio. ���Even for an imperial.���

���My associate brings up a good point.��� Alonzo smiled his toothy smile. ���Perhaps you ought to travel with us a little while. Just till you meet up with your men, anyway.���

Colin narrowed his eyes. ���By foot or in one of those cages?���

Alonzo laughed. ���Well, there’s a smart man. Smart enough to come quietly, I think.���

���Threatening to take an imperial officer captive, that’s a serious offense,��� Colin said bitingly.

Alonzo turned to his associate. ���You know what I think, Nevio?���

���What’s that, boss?���

���I don’t think this he is an imperial officer at all.��� Alonzo gave a grand gesture with his hand. ���Notice his worn state, the way he carries he carries himself. All wrong for a officer. Why, I bet he stole that coat from a real captain.���

Nevio frowned. ���Why, that would make him an impostor. And a thief.���

���It’s practically our civic duty to make sure he can’t keep going around impersonating a civil figure.���

Colin wondered how far he would make it if he burst into a sprint now. Probably not too far. He hadn’t eaten in days.

Alonzo grabbed at his whip with his right hand. ���So then, Captain, what do you say? Will you come along peacefully?���

Colin did not slacken his posture. ���Seems I have small choice in the matter. Know that when my men find me, though, you shall be made pay for this.���

���I shall look forward to it.���

He was brought to one of their carts. One cage was empty, ready to become his new home. As his captors pushed him towards it, his coat was ripped from him.

���You won’t be needing this anymore,��� Alonzo said. ���We shall find you something more appropriate to your new station to keep you warm, don’t worry.���

He was stuffed into the cage without ceremony and given a small, dirty blanket. Moments later the cart lurched forward as the slavers continued on their path.

Finally resigned to his fate, Colin leaned back and tried to find a comfortable position. There wasn’t any. Well, look on the bright side. At least I am alive. And maybe I’ll get sold to someone who treats their slaves well. That can’t be too much worse than military life, can it?

He glanced at the cage next to his. It contained a girl, just a couple years short of womanhood, with reddish-brown skin, almost the color of clay, and silky black hair. A tribal, a native to the lands south of the Empire. Like Colin she was a foreigner to this land, separated from her home by the Black Sea. He wondered what twist of fate had brought her so far just to end up a slave.

Well, at least I might have some company.

���Hello, there,��� he called out to her, just loud enough to be heard over the wheels of the cart. She did not respond, or even react. She stared solemnly at the sky. ���Hello?��� Still nothing. ���Hello, there, young miss, can you hear me?���

Finally, the girl turned to look at him. Colin smiled as disarmingly as he could manage. ���Hello, my name is Colin. Colin Worther. What’s yours?���

The tribal girl did not respond. She just regarded him curiously.

Colin’s heart sank. ���Do you have a name?��� he called out. No response. ���Do you speak?��� Nothing. The girl probably only speaks some tribal language. She continued to watch him, her eyes now focused on his. Colin sighed. ���Sorry to bother you. You can go back to your cloud watching.���

The aches and pains of his long journey were not being aided by the cramped condition of the cage. Not the first time since he deserted, he imagined how his life would have ended if he had not fled and thought that such a fate might not have been so bad after all.

I’d bet there would have been some ceremony to it. I was a captain, after all. You don’t hang one of those every day. I would have been in full uniform, of course. All of my men would have been in attendance. Those I treated poorly would laugh or cheer. The ones I showed favor to would declare my innocence. There would have been women there, too, mostly whores. Half the brothels in the city would turn out to see one of their best customers off.

I would have been allowed some last words, given my station. Maybe I would have come up with something clever, something funny to be remembered by. Or maybe I would have been silent, allowed myself to be remembered as the stoic type. Not give them the satisfaction of recognizing their accusations.

Most likely I’d just shat myself.

He noticed the tribal girl was still studying him. ���What is it? Is there something on my face? Never seen an imperial before?��� As he expected, no response.

He sighed again. ���I guess it’s partly my fault, isn’t it? I had every opportunity to learn your language, years ago, that is.��� She watched him curiously. For some reason, he decided to continue. ���I come from a town on the southern edge of the Old Empire, right along a border shared with your people. We traded sometimes. Well, not me, but some of the local merchants. I used to run errands for them as a kid. One of the merchants always used to offer to bring me along, so I could learn your language and one day trade on my own. But I had decided early on I wanted to travel north and join the military, become a real hero of the Empire.��� He banged on his cage with his fist. ���Think I made the wrong call.���

She smiled at him. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was nice to hear a friendly voice, even if you couldn’t understand what was being said.

With nothing better to do, he spent the next few hours telling a girl who couldn’t understand him all about his life. His hometown and his childhood. His early days in the military. Promotions he didn’t deserve, received by taking credit for the accomplishments of others. Getting caught taking bribes and his eventual desertion.

It was almost nightfall by the time the caravan came to a stop. The carts were arranged in a neat line. While some of the slavers set up camp, Alonzo stepped in front of the cages with his whip in his hands.

���Most of you are familiar with the procedure by now, but for the new faces I will repeat the rules,��� the slave master said. ���We’re going to let you out, a few at a time. Go take a crap and piss if you need, then come stretch your muscles out so they don’t start to wither. Won’t be worth much if you are all weak. If you behave, do as you are told, there will be food waiting for you in your cage when you return. If you resist, cause problems, you go hungry tonight. You try to run, we will give you a thirty second head start. Then my associate is going to run you down, and you will die.��� He gestured to a large figure atop a horse trotting along the outside of the camp. ���Understood?���

Colin watched as one captive after another was let free of their cage. He tensed up as he waited his turn.

This is it. He tensed his hands into fists. No more cowardice. I’ve run from my duty. I ran from my due punishment. I allowed myself to be captured by slavers. I refuse to be a disgrace any longer. I’ll die here, fighting. His anger boiled. Maybe I can catch one of them off guard, grab a weapon, actually stand a chance.

He caught the eye of the tribal girl. She looked at him, as if she knew what he was planning, and shook her head. No. And just like that all of his resolve was gone. His anger cooled. He had no strength to fight.

Colin’s turn finally came, and he did not resist.

#

They were traveling north. Colin could tell that much from the way the sun rose and set. Beyond that, he was completely lost. The flatlands had given way to rolling green hills a couple days back. He wished he had spent more time studying the maps of the region.

He tried to make up for it now by studying his captors with particular care. Alonzo was obviously the leader. When he spoke, the others snapped into action. It was more than just obedience to an employer. It was fear. Colin had seen a similar reaction among the soldiers serving a commander with a reputation for sending men he didn’t like to the front line.

Then there were the enforcers. In addition to Nevio, there was a squat man with giant shoulders named Pidge, and the horseman, Rote. They kept everyone in line, both slaves and slavers alike.

There were six others working with them, all of them young locals. While the enforcers were armed with swords, the rest were armed with an assortment of clubs and knives. Must be hard for a kid in this land to make a wage right now. They either allow themselves to be pressed into the war, or strike out with an unseemly lot such as this. He doubted any of them had much experience actually using their makeshift arms. If he could catch one of them alone, he might be able to get his hands on a weapon.

They stopped for the night and began the usual routine. Colin watched as the first captives were released and led away. The slavers moved with their usual efficiency. He couldn’t pick out anyone who seemed to be slacking or vulnerable. Guess I won’t be making my move tonight, either.

It was Pidge who let him out of his cage tonight. He was the nastiest of the whole lot, with a head half bald and scars all over his face. Somehow, he managed to smell consistently worse than the captives.

Colin stretched out his limbs and worked his muscles. After the stiffness faded he would begin his exercise routine, which involved lifting whatever heavy objects he could find. The slavers were all too eager to use the free labor when setting up camp, and Alonzo actively encouraged his captives to keep their strength up. Colin had not given up hope that one day soon his opportunity would come, and he wanted to be in top form for it. Funny, I am probably in better shape now as a captive than I have been for the last few years of my military life.

As he stretched, Pidge was freeing his cart-mate. The tribal girl still had not responded to anything Colin said, or even shown that she understood any of it. Still, he had grown fond of the girl who always seemed to listening to him with such intent. So it angered him every time Pidge used helping the girl out of her cage as an excuse to fondle her body. Today he was being particularly aggressive, continuing to grip her chest even after she was down from the cart and on her feet.

���Perhaps you and I should go find a quiet spot to be alone, eh?��� Pidge said to her. ���I know you have been wanting it. I can feel your heart race every time I touch you.���

Without thinking, Colin rushed up to them. He only just stopped himself from tackling the slaver, realizing what that would lead to.

Pidge looked at him, annoyed. ���What do you want, imperial?���

Colin had to think on his feet. ���Alonzo wouldn’t like it if you damaged the merchandise.���

���Eh?���

Colin gestured to the girl. ���She’s exotic, and young. She is going to worth a fortune to the right fleshpeddler. But if she isn’t pure, that’s going to cut her value in half.���

Pidge growled. ���Stay out of this, this is between me and -���

He heard the sound of a loud crack and felt the air split just inches from his head before he registered what had happened. Pidge went to ground, clutching at his face. The girl was pushed away from him; she stumbled and fell.

Alonzo stepped beside Colin, his whip drawn. He glared down at Pidge.

���Were you trying to steal from me?��� The evenness in his voice made Colin uneasy. ���Well?���

Still clutching his face, Pidge cried, ���No, boss, never!���

���Damaging my property, reducing its value. Is that not the same as stealing?��� He glanced at Colin. ���Perhaps I aught to put you in his cage, and let him take your place. At least he seems to understand this business.��� He smiled toothily at Colin. ���What do you say, Captain? Want to join our merry band?���

Pidge looked up in horror. Colin finally understood why everyone feared Alonzo.

There is no way this is a serious offer. He is mocking me to get a rise out of Pidge. Though if it is a serious offer ��� this could be my chance. I could escape during the night.

���I would rather die,��� he said instead.

Damn imperial pride.

Alonzo tsked. ���That’s a shame. Looks like you still work for me, Pidge. I catch you trying something like that again, though, you will wind up in a cage.���

Pidge pulled himself to his feet and cursed as he turned his backs on them to resume his duties. Alonzo patted Colin on the shoulder, as if they were old friends, and then followed.

Colin helped the girl back to her feet. She had hit her head when she fell and had cut her forehead. It wasn’t a terrible cut, but it was bleeding and should be covered. Colin pulled out his rag that had once been his military sash. It was still mostly clean. He told her to be still; whether she understood or not she complied. He tied the rag around her head. It was just long enough to do the job.

���There we go,��� Colin said as he admired his handiwork. ���You’re flying imperial colors, now. Do them proud.���

She smiled at him. He smiled back.

I’m going to find a way to escape. And I am going to take her with me.

#

It would be another week before the opportunity would come. Occasional patches of trees became more frequent until they were traveling in a full fledged forest. The carts had to travel in a single line to traverse the narrow road. But it wouldn’t be Colin’s idea to escape that night.

As Colin hugged himself against the cold of the first days of winter, clutching his filthy blanket with all his might, he heard an unfamiliar voice say one word. ���Tonight.���

He looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. It was just him and the tribal girl on the cart. She was not looking at him. Am I hearing things?

���Did you ��� did you say something?���

The girl spoke without looking in his direction. ���Tonight they will have no choice but to set up camp in the woods. Their horses can not follow us between the trees. It will be our best chance.���

Colin was so stunned that she was speaking that it completely overshadowed the importance of her words. ���You can speak ��� this entire time you could understand me?��� He thought with embarrassment about all the personal details of his life he had shared. ���Why didn’t you say anything?���

���There is a saying ��� ‘You learn more from listening than speaking.’ I have learned much about you.���

Her voice was completely different from what Colin imagined it would be like if she could speak. Colin had seen her a child that needed protecting. Instead she sounded mature and confident, absolutely in control of her situation.

Colin feigned a smile. ���I seem to be at quite a bit of a disadvantage, then. I know nothing about you.���

���I can lead us through the woods so that we can’t be tracked. I have decided your experience could help me if we have to fight. That is all you need to know of me.���

���I suppose.��� Colin held up his hands, pleadingly. ���Can I at least get the name of the person I might be dying alongside tonight?���

There was a pause. ���I am called Silver Wolf.���

���Silver, huh?��� Colin mulled that over. Hardly seemed fitting. ���So what’s the plan, Silver? We make a break for it when they aren’t looking?���

���The moment we are both free. If we wait, they might notice us behaving strangely.��� She finally turned to look at him. ���Here.���

She passed something through the bars of her cage and into his. Colin picked it up. It was stone, just smaller than Colin’s hand. One edge was smooth, the other curved into a wicked point. With enough force it could inflict some serious damage.

���Better than nothing,��� Colin said.

Silver nodded, then turned away. Colin pocketed the stone and tried to suppress a smile at the thought of smacking Alonzo right in the face with it.

Tonight I just might get the chance.

#

Their escape attempt happened rapidly and caught the slavers off-guard. Pidge no longer came around to let them out of their cages. Tonight it was Nevio. Colin was released first. He stayed close by, willing himself not to reach into his pocket to feel the stone. His heart was racing. He hoped it didn’t show. Silver was released shortly after. She stepped down from the cart and took a few steps away, acting as if everything was normal.

She and Colin locked eyes. Then they were both running.

Nevio was quicker than he looked for a man that size. He was in front of them in an instant, making a grab for Silver. She jumped out of the way and he grabbed nothing but air. He turned and spotted Colin, his hand reaching for his sword.

Colin burst into a dash to meet him. He grabbed Nevio’s swordarm with one hand, keeping him from fully unsheathing it. With the other he reached into his pocket. Nevio was strong, even with all of Colin’s heavy lifting he could barely keep a hold on the man. His fingers touched the smooth side of the stone. He grabbed it in his fist and swung it with all his force at the slaver’s face. There was a crunch and Nevio’s swordarm slacked. Colin grabbed the sword and unsheathed it. Nevio stumbled back, clutching at the fresh gash in his face.

One of the young slavers came at Colin with his club. Colin’s military training came back to him surprisingly quickly. The poor boy was cut quickly down the middle.

More were coming. He saw Rote coming down the road on his horse. Somewhere, Pidge was shouting curses. Colin dashed off the road and into the woods.

He ran with all the speed his legs would let him, but they were stiff and threatened to buckle on him. Branches scratched at his face and arms. His chest burned with the exertion. He had no idea where Silver was.

When he thought he was safe he stopped to catch his breath. A loud crack soon told him this was a bad idea. His world was replaced with one of blinding pain. He realized he was on the ground. The stolen sword was lost from his grip.

Alonzo stood over him, whip in hand. He tsked. ���I feel like I am a generous man, Captain. I let you live, despite being an imperial. I feed you, ensure you are warm. And this is my payment? You made me lose my most valuable cargo. How ungrateful.���

Colin tried to get to his feet. Alonzo knocked him back to the ground with a swift kick.

���No, no. You are not going anywhere, Captain. You and I are going to have a long talk about gratitude and -���

He was struck from behind and knocked to the ground. Silver stood there, carrying a large branch. She grabbed Colin and pulled him to his feet.

���Run!���

Taking Colin by the arm, she led them deeper into the woods. It was all he could do to keep up her. At first he heard the sound of Alonzo shouting and chasing after them, but soon those faded away.

The morning sun was in the sky before they finally stopped. Silver led to a small stream. Colin dropped to his knees and drank greedily.

���We can rest here for a few hours,��� Silver said. ���Get some sleep. After, we have much to do.���

Rest sounded great. Much to do did not.

���What did you have mind?��� he asked, wearily.

Silver’s expression was unreadable. ���We have to fashion some weapons. The forest provides us all the material we could need. If you wish, we may backtrack and retrieve the sword you dropped. Once we are armed, we will track the slavers. When the chance comes, we will free the others.���

Colin plopped down against a tree. His eyelids were heavy but his mind was racing. Good way to get ourselves killed, right after we just earned our lives back. I should tell her I’m not interested.

���Sounds like fun,��� he said instead.

He laughed and looked up at the morning sky. Colin Worther. Imperial captain. Deserter. Captive. Now, freer of slaves.

Silver sat and leaned up against him. Her warmth was inviting against the bitter cold.

Well, there are worse fates, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

The post A Tale of A Deserter appeared first on Phil-Domo's.

This post is purely for mostly for verification purposes for the staff of Royal Road.�� Elementalists chapters will also be posted on Royal Road from now on.

The post Elementalists Will Now Also Be Posted On Royal Road appeared first on Phil-Domo's.

Everyone was too tired to cook, so dinner was cold sandwiches and leftover soup. Despite the simple fare, the diners ate ravenously, treating the meal like it was the finest thing they’ve ever eaten. The food went a long way to restoring their energy, and their spirits, and soon the small dining table was host to the murmur of conversation.

“I’m telling you, masks!” Sam insisted to Peter. “I mean, if we’re going to go out there, fighting in the streets against the Dark God’s minions, we got to keep our identities secret!”

“Why stop at masks?” Arthur teased. “Why not go for the full super-hero costume? Long-johns, underwear on the outside, whole nine yards.”

Peter gave Arthur a wry smile. “Well, we can’t all have your fashion sense, Arthur. You going for that old-school gangster vibe?”

It took the reminder for Arthur to remember that he was wearing the worn blue-and-gray suit that Kanos had insisted he put on. The damage it had taken during the day’s battle didn’t do it any favors.

“Aw, I think it’s right stylish,” Marco declared through a full mouth. “Can’t beat the classics.”

Sam was getting frustrated that no one was taking this seriously. “I, for one, really don’t want my mom to find out I’m fighting for my life against people with crazy powers.”

Ullen coughed. “Or, you could just, you know, not fight in the streets. Keep that up and you’ll have the rest of the ECT after you, and they won’t be as understanding as me.”

“I was actually meaning to ask you about them,” Arthur said, glad for the segue into a conversation he’d been wanting to have. “Ai was only able to tell me a little about you guys. I was hoping you could fill me in on some more.” When he saw the suspicious look Ullen gave him, he continued, “So I know how to stay on their good side, of course.”

After a pause in which Ullen seemed to be judging Arthur’s sincerity, he sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d be satisfied if I just told you not to use your Elements in public?” He shook his head. “ECT is an abbreviation for the English name of the organization, Elemental Control and Tactics. We’re an international group with loose ties to various government agencies, at least to certain members of those agencies who are in-the-know about Elementalists. They provide funding and authorization for us to do what we do, in exchange for certain favors, as I understand it, but that’s above me. What else? We’re headquartered here the US, have been since the Cold War, if I remember the orientation spiel. Anything else?”

“You guys are like the magic police, right?” Sam asked. “Stop the bad guy Elementalists?”

“I suppose you could put it like that. Our primary stated mission is the protect innocents from rogue Elementalists. However, the first objective to fulfilling that goal is to protect the secret of Elemental magic. The idea being that the less people know about the Elements, the less chance that the power winds up in the hands of, well, ‘bad guys.’”

Ai didn’t miss anything. “Yet you don’t sounds convinced.”

Ullen frowned. “I believe that they’re not wrong, at least not in theory. It is Adaghast who throws a wrench into the works. We need as many powerful Elementalists as possible right now if we’re going to have any chance against his return.” His expression grew distant. “That’s what I used to think, anyway. I’m not so sure anymore.”

“So what is the ECT’s plans regarding the Dark God?” Arthur asked.

With a low growl, Ullen replied, “Officially? None. Our stance is that Adaghast doesn’t exist. He’s a myth, perpetuated and used by powerful people throughout history to force others to their cause. There’s no evidence to support his existence, after all, except for old stories that can’t be backed. And even if there was an Adaghast who acted as a dictator at some point in history, he is dead and there is no coming back from that. So anyone claiming to be working towards that goal is just a brainwashed cultist working for a charismatic, perhaps powerful, leader, who will be dealt with the same way the ECT has dealt with all charismatic, powerful, Elementalist cult leaders.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam stuttered, accidentally knocking over his soup-bowl as he rose suddenly. “What about the Fragments? That’s definitive proof, right?”

Ullen shook his head. “A random but natural part of the Elemental flows, or so they say. You have to understand, carriers are nothing new. They’ve popped up all throughout history, as have the people who have tried to use them, but it has never heralded a return of the Dark God. It is true that there are have been more carriers appearing recently than we would expect, but that’s not enough to get the alarm bells ringing.” He paused. “There is a standing order, though, in regards to carriers. They’re considered a particular threat, one that needs to be controlled. One way … or another.”

The table went silent, the only noise the dripping of soup from the table to the floor.

“Well, great,” Arthur said. “So not only do I have deal with the Dark God’s minions, but these ECT guys are also a threat to the carriers.”

Ullen could muster no defense of the organization he had sworn his allegiance to. He couldn’t explain that his membership was the only way he would be allowed to take students again after what had happened to his school. Nor did he feel that ‘most carriers would simply be locked away for their own good until it was certain they could be controlled’ was a good defense.

There was some grating of his pride, though, in the way the others at the table where looking at him. Despite all of its faults, the ECT did do good work protecting people, all while knowing they would never receive any recognition for it. Ryu had understood this, at least he had at one point. Hopefully he could convince his students. The last thing Ullen wanted was another confrontation with Arthur.

He decided he really shouldn’t linger here much longer. They would be missing him at headquarters soon, particularly with how busy things would soon be.

Kairi bundled herself up against a chill only she could feel. She pulled her scarf higher on her face with one hand and flipped a switch in her coat pocket with the other. A faint buzz let her know that the electric warmers located throughout her many layers were working. Today was a particularly bad day for her, one which she would greatly prefer to just stay wrapped up in her heater at home with some hot tea and a good book. She had something important to do, though, and she would not be deterred.

She would certainly have garnered attention, dressed as heavily as she was during this unseasonably warm day. Fortunately, the ‘ECT’ lettering on the sash tied over the right arm of her outermost coat ensured no one really gave her a second glance. Everything in a three block radius was owned by the organization, and those worked with them regularly saw stranger things than a woman wearing cold-weather clothing on a warm day.

The two guards standing watch over the main entrance to the headquarters didn’t so much as glance as her as she passed by. Their job was more to discourage civilians who had accidentally wandered into the neighborhood, occasionally giving out the official story that this was a government research lab.

The offices on the first floor resembled any one of many bureaucratic centers. Men and women in business casual attire hurrying back and forth between small offices and cubicles to handle to day-to-day minutia required to keep an organization the size of the ECT running. And secret. In today’s age of fast information connectivity, that last part required an entire division. Whenever someone decided to Instragram themselves conjuring electricity from their fingertips or live-streamed someone running across the water of a lake, they needed to quickly move to make sure the comment sections where filled with declarations of photoshop and camera trickery while passing the information on to the Enforcers.

As she waited for the elevator she peered into the central courtyard. Recruits for the ARU, Armored Response Unit, were currently running drills. The ARU were not Elementalists, but were equipped with the latest tech in armor and weapons and trained in tactics to counter Elemental threats. They were effectively the ECT’s riot squad, only called on when the situation grew beyond the control of one or two Enforcers.

The elevator announced its arrival and Kairi stepped inside, suddenly growing nervous now that her destination was so close. She was not a confrontational person by nature. In fact, quite the opposite. She was the type to go along with the will of others because she couldn’t handle the anxiety of saying ‘no,’ the type who tried to slink back into her coat like a turtle retracting into its shell whenever someone spoke to her forcibly. Today she mustered her courage, driven by anger that was unfamiliar to her.

As the elevator doors were about to close, a tall man in full uniform stepped inside. Kairi slunk back against the wall to give the man space. Also because she was as intimidated of him as always. Brake wore the same antique fedora and black tie with his uniform as usual, a somewhat silly combination that had made Kairi smile the first time they had met. Only afterwards, when she learned how severe a man he was, did she realize why no one ever mentioned his manner of dress out loud.

“Kairi,” Brake said by way of greeting, not bothering to actually look at her as he spoke, instead keeping his attention on the elevator doors as they descended.

“Uhm, hello, Brake,” she managed, weakly.

“I see you layered up today,” Brake said flatly. “Are you fit for duty?”

It was unusual for Kairi to be here when her condition was this bad. But there was something important she had to do. “I’m just handling a quick errand. I won’t be in the field.”

“Hmph,” was the only reply.

Brake was an Enforcer, an Elementalist trained for battle, specifically against other Elementalists. Kairi herself was one of the Specialists, Elementalists whose skills were less geared towards fighting and more on providing support through unique twists on their Elements. Many of the Enforcers, Brake included, tended to distrust the Specialists, whose powers they had a tough time understanding. It made the already socially anxious Kairi even more uncomfortable to be regarded with that kind of suspicion.

Thankfully, the elevator ride came to an end and her and Brake went their separate ways. She winded her way through the labyrinthine underground level, her eyes taking time to adjust to the sterile white lighting, her steps guided more by memory than the occasional sign. There was some relief as the next two faces she saw were of a more friendly variety. Two of her fellow specialists, Stacks and Raina, conversed near the ancient coffee machine which served as a landmark for the interrogation rooms.

“Kairi!” Stacks called out when he spotted her, waving her over as if she didn’t have to pass by him to get through this passage anyway. “Hey! It is good to see you! Oh, you look absolutely chilled, girl. Let’s fix you up with some hot coffee. I just beat this machine back into operation.”

Stacks was an aggressively friendly guy, which would make Kairi uncomfortable if not for the warmth of that smile. Those thick glasses of his and gray-brushed hair made Kairi think of a friendly uncle.

“Coffee would be good,” Kairi agreed, convincing herself she was just taking a small break to warm up and was not stalling for fear of her final destination.

“Have you come to observe as well?” Raina asked.

Raina was also very friendly, and Kairi liked her, though sometimes standing near her made her feel somewhat … inadequate. Raina was gorgeous, looking more like she belonged in a Hollywood movie than her sterile surroundings. Even when dressed professionally, with her blond her tied back in a ponytail and her figure somewhat diminished by her uniform, she was eye-catching. Kairi had seen her with her hair down, all dolled-up for a night on the town, and it was enough to make her squirm about how frail her own appearance was.

“Observe?” Kairi asked.

She looked into the closest interrogation room. The seated figure whose arms were chained to the table was barely recognizable from the last time she had seen him. The one who called himself Spike had recovered from his injuries, but he still looked weak. The shaved side of his head had grown a light brown fuzz, while the other side dangled in long strips of fading pink. Despite his dim surroundings, he was smirking slightly, like someone had told him a funny joke.

“They are finally handing him over to Marcus, huh?” Kairi asked.

Raina sighed. “I tried my best to get information out of him my way. He’s a stubborn one, able to break through my suggestions by blathering about sports stars and cartoons. He definitely knows something, though, about these recent incidents involving potential carriers. Word is there’s another nutjob claiming to be attempting to revive ‘The Dark God’, and if that’s the case, who knows how many others he might have suckered into that cause.”

Kairi nodded as she accepted the cup of coffee from Stacks. She felt kind of sorry for Spike, knowing what he was about to go through. Then again, he was a dangerous man, and he likely knew the location of other dangerous men. If it was in the name of protecting innocents, Kairi understood.

“I’m kind of excited, to be honest,” Stacks said. “Not about the interrogation, of course, but about what it might yield. I’ve been following our open cases, all these missing persons who were potential carriers, these battles that involve potential carriers. This guy could be the key to the biggest group of rogue Elementalists in decades!”

One thing that could be said about Stacks was that he enjoyed his job. He was always excited to have new opportunities to test his Elemental theories. And study the abilities of captured rogue Elementalists.

“Hopefully I can help shed some light,” said a soft voice.

No one had heard Marcus approach. The small man had a boyish face and a slight build that made him seem more like a kid dressing up like a soldier than the ECT’s top interrogator. The childish bangs on his straight-combed, light blond hair didn’t help make him seem any more mature. Nor did the way he he couldn’t seem to look anyone in the eye, always looking to floor or off in the distance when talking to people.

“The man of the hour arrives,” Stacks said jovially. “Hope you don’t mind, me and Raina are going to observe. Curiosity.”

“I suppose that’s alright,” Marcus replied, studying a patch tiles on the floor. “Though it’s a little embarrassing having people watch me work, I’m being recorded anyway.” He turned his attention to Raina, which for him meant he looked at a spot on the wall somewhere beside her. “Oh, by the way, Raina … your underwear today is blue.”

Stacks sputtered on his coffee. “Not cool, man! You’re going to get to called into HR again! Don’t you remember what happened last time -”

Raina gestured for him to calm down. “It’s alright. Me and Marcus have a running bet. He was bragging so much about how he could find out anything about a person, so I bet him he couldn’t tell me what color underwear I was wearing for thirty days in a row. If he can’t, he has to let me take him dancing.” She sighed. “It’s been two weeks and I still haven’t figured out how he’s doing it to try and put a stop to him.”

“Two more weeks and she will have to watch an entire season of Doctor Who,” Marcus said, smiling lightly.

“God help me,” Raina sighed.

Kairi quietly sipped her coffee while watching the proceedings with amusement. It was her usual place, watching others have fun from the sidelines. She preferred it that way.

“Will you be watching, too?” Marcus asked, drawing Kairi unwillingly into the conversation.

“Oh … uhm, yes. Maybe just a little.”

With a nod, Marcus turned from the group and entered into the interrogation room. The three onlookers crowded around the view-window to watch.

“I really like this place,” Spike said enthusiastically as Marcus walked around to the other side of the table. “It seems very secure. I bet it would be really hard to break out of. You guys should be proud.”

Marcus ignored him. He had been instructed that Spike tried to disarm his interrogators with fast, nonsensical, and friendly chatter. “Chen Lian,” Marcus said, taking the seat across from the prisoner. “We need to have a chat.”

The prisoner shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t really go by that name anymore. Super impressed that you guys were able to figure that one out, though. Chen Lian is dead, officially.”

“They buried an empty casket,” Marcus replied. “Wasn’t the best case of faking your own death that we’ve seen.”

Marcus looked Spike directly in the eyes, his silver eyes probing. The only time Marcus ever looked directly at someone was during an interrogation. The look gave Kairi chills, even though it wasn’t directed at her.

“You have four brothers and two sisters,” Marcus continued. “We have addresses for each and every one of them, the five still living in China and the one that immigrated to the US. We can pick them up, if you would like.”

Spike seemed to try and rise to his feet but was stopped midway but the chains. He sat back unsteadily in the chair, unbalanced by the drugs that hindered his channeling. “If you want to get to me by threatening my family …”

“No, I would never do that,” Marcus responded. “They are innocents in all of this. I just thought you might like to see them. Or see that they are protected from your employer.”

The prisoner smiled. “Why would my employer go after them?”

“Because you failed.”

“Have I?” Spike laughed, but it wasn’t the playful chuckle he had been recorded doing during his sessions with Raina. It was a wild laughter, crazed. “Then why am I still here? I don’t blame you for thinking so. You don’t hear what I hear. You don’t know what I know. But my God hasn’t given up on me yet. And I will not give up on Him.”

Kairi nearly crushed the coffee cup in her gloved hands. There was confirmation: their prisoner believed himself to be working for The Dark God. It wasn’t surprising news; Raina’s reports had detailed that conclusion. He had just never said it aloud before.

“I just thought I’d try one last chance with the carrot,” Marcus said, rising. “I felt the obligation to do so before getting started for real, but now it is time for the stick.”

Spike smiled broadly, wholly unafraid of Marcus’s threats.

Kairi had only one though: ‘How wrong Spike is.’

“First question,” Marcus began. “How many other followers of your God were you working with?”

“Do you know how many players are on an American football team?” Spike replied. “53 in the NFL, even though there are only 11 positions on the field. Though during training camp, they start with a roster of 90 …”

Spike rattled off his nonsense about the NFL, so intent on his recital of numbers he didn’t notice the slight breeze picking up in the still air of the underground chamber. His words came to a sudden halt as a clear blade, large as the end of a claymore and composed entirely of rapidly swirling wind, appeared and buried itself deep in his chest.

He let out a gurgling cry, his hands reaching futilely for the blade and finding it impossible to grasp. His body strained against the chains that bound him as the pain sent him into convulsions. Then the blade was suddenly gone. Spike leaned forward to catch his breath, clutching his chest where he assumed he would find a gaping wound. To his surprise he seemed completely intact. His shirt wasn’t even torn.

Kairi could understand his surprise. It confused her the first time she had witnessed it, too. Thankfully, not first person.

Marcus’s unique Wind techniques did no harm to a person’s body when they struck. Instead it attacked that body’s Elemental connection. To the person struck, it felt just like they were hit by the weapon Marcus formed, but it never left a mark on them. Marcus could impale them, stab them with hundreds of knives, even make it feel like their limbs had been severed. Once he stopped channeling his victim would be left with just the memory of the pain.

“First question,” Marcus repeated. “How many other followers of your God were you working with?”

“A soccer team is different,” Spike said. He was beginning to sweat, slowly becoming aware of what he was in for, and his breath was still labored. “Even though in the rest of the world, it is called ‘football.’”

A dagger formed out of the swirling wind beside him. It floated there a moment, giving Spike just enough time to to consider answering the question, and when he didn’t it sank itself into the right of his face. Spike could feel it piercing his cheek, chipping his teeth, cutting open his tongue, even though in reality it did none of that. The impact would have rocked him off his chair if the chains weren’t holding him put. His cry had to have been heard throughout the entire complex.

That was as much as Kairi could stomach. She had a feeling Spike would be a long time in breaking. Once he could no longer muster the will to recite sports trivia, he would try to make Marcus stop with lies. Marcus would see through the lies, because he always did, and the ‘interrogation’ would resume. Eventually, Spike would crack.

They always did.

Kairi slipped away, unnoticed by the other two as they were intently watching this display. A few minutes later she came to her ultimate destination: the office of Lestrix, ECT Commander, leader of both the Enforcers and the Specialists, and the second higher ranking member of the organization. In a move much unlike her, she barged into the office without knocking.

Lestrix sat at his desk, typing busily away at his computer. He was middle aged, paunchy, and had more hair on his thick black beard than he had on his head. His office was a simple one despite his position: a single desk, several filing cabinets, an end-table with pictures of his family. The only oddity was his bookcase full of rulebooks for the obscure tabletop games that made up his weekend hobby.

“Please close the door behind you,” he calmly said, not reacting at all to the sudden intrusion or bothering to look up from his computer screen.

Kairi was losing the little bit of the bluster she had built up to the Commander’s calmness. “I need to talk to you about the attack at West Walen High School.”

“What about it?” Lestrix asked, still tapping away.

“I read the report.”

“And?”

“The full report. The one that mentions the frozen hallway.”

“And?”

Kairi slammed on Lestrix’s desk, surprising both him and her. He finally turned away from his screen to regard her. “It didn’t concern you,” his voice suddenly firm.

“The hell it didn’t! How could you conspire to keep this from me? How could you not tell me that my sister is back?!”

Ullen prepared to head out, hoping that, at the very least, he and Ryu’s students understood each other a little better now. Adaghast was coming, whatever his peers believed, and when he arrived they would need allies, not enemies. And knowing Ryu, these students where only beginning to reach their potential.

“Oh, one last thing,” Ullen said, turning back at the door of the farmhouse. “You should have this back. I’ll say I lost it in the battle. It’ll be harder to track you without it.”

He reached into a hidden compartment inside of the uniform and pulled out Arthur’s straw hat. Arthur’s eyes lit up with joy to be reunited with the hat that had meant so much to him since childhood.

“Ah, great,” Ai remarked. “I thought we were finally through with that thing.”

“Never!” Arthur declared, plopping the hat unceremoniously back onto his head.

Ullen gave them one last farewell. Then he went about the unappealing task of collecting his student’s body. He carefully cradled her wrapped form in his arms.

With her, he stepped into the void.

The post Chapter 17: The ECT appeared first on Phil-Domo's.

Possibly the greatest thing about D&D is its chaotic nature. Even the most meticulous of DMs can’t claim to predict everything their PCs are going to get up to. We’ve all had entire pages of notes that suddenly became more useful as toilet paper as the party decides that they would rather pick flowers for the local herbalist because you gave him a funny accent. PCs are a fickle bunch, one moment the stalwart heroes on a quest to save the world, the next second genocidal maniacs who are a bigger threat than the villains they were trying to stop.

One of the effects of this chaos is that ‘friend’ and ‘foe’ are pretty loosely defined, with one easily becoming the other depending on the mood of the players. Perhaps it is because of this that I have so many stories of my PCs making a 180 from coming to protect someone to trying to kill them.

One example: In a low-magic setting, the PC’s had learned that the reason there was so little magic was that mana leaked into the world very slowly and was consumed by the world’s magic users before it could amass in quantity. They also had come at odds with a villain who was killing magic users so that there would be more mana in the world for him. When they learn about a powerful Wind Witch may be the mage-killer’s next target, they seek out the witch to warn her.

The witch’s tower was divided into two levels: the lower level, which was a public museum where she displayed the artifacts she had collected over her adventures, while the upper level was her living quarters and work space. Because she could fly, she had no stairs connecting the two levels as a security measure; when she needed to move between the two levels she would fly out a window on the top floor and float into one on the bottom. The PCs entered into the museum and found a single guard there, a hulking figure who instructed them not to touch anything or he would ‘crush your heads like walnut.’

The guard didn’t know when the witch would be down next as she kept no specific schedule, but it could be days. My PCs, like many others, have no patience, so instead of making camp and passing some time until she next appears they decided they needed to get up to her. Fair enough. The problem was that they had no idea how to do that. They were convinced there was some trick to create a secret staircase or elevator if they could just figure it out. When they couldn’t, they got frustrated, and the plan became to blast a hole into the ceiling and climb through it. Needless to say, the guard didn’t appreciate them causing an explosion in the middle of the museum. He tried to make good on his promise in regards to their heads, but despite being a pretty tough guy he was no match for the entire party and was killed by a critical sneak attack.

Now the witch comes down to investigate the source of the blast and finds her museum trashed and her guard dead. She’s going to call for the local authorities to arrest the party, so they attack the woman they originally came here to protect. It turned out that she was the most powerful magic-user in the world and she proceeded to kick their asses. They ended up surrendering, being arrested for murder and destruction of property, and having their warning go unheeded.

This was an extreme situation, but its hardly unique. My most recent campaign is set in the middle of a world war between a great many factions. The PCs spoiled a plot by a few soldiers of one faction, the Victorians, to starve a region by burning farmlands and destroying granaries. They learned that the soldiers were having their minds manipulated by a group of villain they knew where pulling the strings of the war behind the scenes. They wanted to warn the Victorians that they might have others in their ranks whose minds were not their own. The problem was that no one knew where the Victorians were encamped.

They needed one of the formerly mind-manipulated soldiers they had captured to lead them to the encampment. Unfortunately, the soldiers were currently prisoners in the city whose granaries they had tried to burn, and these guards weren’t sure about the whole ‘mind-control’ thing and were hesitant to let loose a dangerous prisoner. The PCs ended up making a deal with the guards to allow them to take one of the prisoners as a guide on the condition that they were brought back to face judgment afterwards.

They traveled with the soldier as their guide for a few sessions but never forgot their promise to bring him back. Eventually they came to the Victorian encampment and delivered their warning about the possibility that more of their member might be compromised. The problems began when the Victorians tried to take back possession of their soldier. After all, if he had committed the crimes he was accused of while under magical influence, like the party claimed, then he was innocent and did not deserve the hang-man’s noose he would certainly face if brought back to face judgment. The party, not wanting to be oath-breakers, ended up in a tense stand off over the soldier, which was broken when the barbarian-style PC drew his weapon and battle began.

By some miracle, no one actually died (in large part, thanks to the Way of Tranquility monk running around and stabilizing all the fallen Victorians). They were eventually surrounded (this was the encampment of a major military force, after all) and captured through shear force of numbers. Once again, my PCs attempt to deliver a word of warning with the best of intentions ended in violence and them being captured.

Things don’t always end with the PC’s captured and their charge / victim getting away. There was the time where they attempt to protect someone ended with their charge dead, one of the PC’s souls stolen, and another blinded. But … that is an incredibly long story, one that is best saved for next time.

So … you know, come back next time for more fun stories and stuff.

The post Tales of a DM: The Scariest Thing A PC Can Say: “We’re Here To Save You” appeared first on Phil-Domo's.

The carrier-boy entered into a cave hidden behind some thick brush and Vizel smiled. Finally, all his patience was about to pay off. Inside there, he couldn’t just fly away when things got bad. Vizel knew that if he just followed him long enough, eventually he would be cornered.

It was about time, too. Patience wasn’t Vizel’s strong point. He had barely been able to control himself this long. It was frustrating that, after all this time, he wasn’t allowed to kill the boy. But certainly he could have his fun bloodying the carrier first.

He stepped out in from his concealment, a broad smile on his face, eager to get started –

A splitting pain in his head stopped him in his tracks. It was a familiar feeling, one which he dreaded at the best of times. Now was certainly not a good time.

���Not now,��� he moaned out loud. ���Not now not now not now not now! I’m so close!���

He gripped his head and shook violently, desperately trying to hold on. His vision blurred, nausea threatened to overwhelm him, his body quaked. The world seemed to spin around him and he let out a bestial roar.

Kanos peeked out of the cave to investigate the source of the screaming he had heard. He found a young man, bundled up in a black hoodie, stumbling and shaking.

���You okay, buddy?��� Kanos asked, cautiously approaching the stranger. He wanted to help, but his history with less than friendly taught him to be careful.

The man looked up at him with deep blue eyes filled with fear and confusion. He pushed back his hood, revealing a head full of dirty blond hair, and ran a hand over his face, wincing as his fingers traced fresh cuts on his cheek, barely scabbed over.

���Where am I?��� he asked, voice unsteady. ���Who are you?���

���I am Kanos. Nice to meet you! What’s your name?���

���Wencent.��� He looked around the unfamiliar forest surrounding him. ���I don’t ��� I don’t know how I got here. I’m sorry to ask, but can you help me?���

���Of course!��� Kanos grabbed the stranger by the arm and began dragging him towards the cave. ���Boy, what a day, meeting so many friendly people! I have some stuff in here that will help with those cuts. You hungry? I was about to eat.���

Humbled by the boy’s generosity, Wencent allowed himself to be pulled along. ���Thank you, Kanos. I will repay you, I promise.���

Wencent meant it, too. But someone else, someone silenced for the moment but not forever, strongly disagreed.

Everything was quiet for a while, a somber silence weighing heavy on the still air. Then the students of Ryu needed to move on to more pressing concerning, leaving Ullen alone to his grief.

One of those concerns was at the top of Ai’s mind as she went to confront Sam inside the farmhouse. He was drinking another one of those weird energy drinks while retreading the battle with Peter.

���You went at her with a bat?��� Sam asked with a chuckle. ���You’re crazy, Nils. I wish had been conscious to see it.���

���Not just any bat,��� Peter corrected. ���I made one out of a tree.���

���Aren’t all wooden bats technically made out of trees?���

Peter hefted his specially channeled bat. ���Not like this one.���

Sam tried to take the bat to see what the big deal was. He went to the ground as he was met with the weight of the entire tree in his hands. Peter smiled smugly as he easily lifted the bat.

���Yeah, well ������ Sam said as he embarrassingly dusted himself off. ���I shot a stream of fireballs.���

���I saw. You looked cool, until you face-planted.���

Their jovial attitude was broken when Ai imposed herself between them. She gave Sam a look like she was about to bring down the fires of hell upon him.

���Sam.��� Ai’s voice was icy. ���Why did your mother have the address for our place?���

He was about to plead ignorance when he remembered the energy drink in his hands. It gave him a faint recollection of a moment of weakness several weeks ago, when he was crashing from an energy drink binge, he place a call to his mom. The memory wasn’t clear, but he was pretty certain he had given her the address. ���Oops.���

���Oops,��� Ai repeated. ���Is that all you have to say? We have rules, you were aware of them. We all could have been killed. What if more than one of The Dark God’s followers had discovered this place? I would have died. Your friend would have died. You would have been captured, your fragment would have been taken, and you would have died. But all you have to say is, ‘oops’?���

Sam seemed sufficiently ashamed. ���I ��� I really fucked up, okay? I fucked up real bad. I wasn’t thinking ��� I was tired and my brain wasn’t working ��� I’m sorry, alright?���

Ai stared down Sam, trying to decide whether he needed to be scolded further. Sam was looking absolutely distraught, as if the possible consequences of his actions were just now hitting him. She decided to go a little lighter on him as it was unlikely a mistake he would make again. Still, there was more that she needed to say.

She turned to Peter. ���I need to have a private talk with Sam. Why don’t you go outside and see if you can help?���

Peter gave his friend an apologetic shrug. ���Good luck, Fariman.���

Once they were alone, Ai got right to it. ���Have you ever had violent tendencies, Sam?���

���What?��� The sudden change of topic snapped Sam out of his misery.

���Have you ever had a violent outburst, say against one of your classmates at school? Are you prone to fits of rage, shouting?���

���What? No!��� Why was she even asking that? ���I mean, I’ve yelled at video games sometimes, but not people. Hell, my gym teacher used to call me ‘meek,’ said I had no fight in me.���

Ai leaned in and picked at his shirt. The ���+2 Charisma��� graphic and much of the neckline had been badly singed by his own flames. ���That didn’t seem ‘meek’ to me. What happened out there?���

Sam was too embarrassed by her sudden closeness to properly analyze the question. ���I channeled fire. You saw that.���

���And the attitude?���

���What?��� Only when he stopped to think about it did he realize how out-of-character he had behaved. ���Well, when I jumped in front of you ��� I think I was just really angry. But before that ������ He remembered his first attack against Aer, the wildness behind it, the feeling over unstoppable power that drove him, the desire to turn his opponent to cinders. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. ���I don’t know. It was weird. Like I was losing control.���

He expected to be scolded some more, but Ai nodded understandingly. ���I thought as much. Here’s the thing about Elements: while we try to control them, they try to control us. For most, it’s a minor thing, a small influence. For people with a strong connection to their elements, it’s much more pronounced, and when they channel, it can threaten to overwhelm them.���

Sam thought through the implications of what she was saying. ���Are you saying being a Fire Element makes me violent?���

���It can. If you are not careful. The Fire Element pushes its users to acting impulsively, rashly. Giving into the baser instincts. That very often includes violent urges, but it can just as well be an impulsive decision made without thinking. Say, giving the location to where you are hiding to your mother despite being warned against it?���

���That was a stupid decision,��� Sam admitted again, ���but I think that was just ��� regular stupidity.���

Ai looked thoughtful. ���It can be tough to tell. The influences can be subtle. For example, the Light Element makes its users more determined and strong-willed, so when Arthur gets all stubborn it’s hard to tell whether that’s him or his Element’s influence on him.���

���So what should I do?��� Sam’s concern was genuine. The idea of losing control again filled him with fear, only slightly diffused by the closeness of Ai’s presence.

���We will have observe your training closely. The focus will be on control over power. You must master the Fire before it masters you.���

The idea of closely working with Ai sat well with Sam. ���Whatever you think is best.���

She gave him a faint smile. ���But if you mess up again, we’re going to bind you and lock you up until all this is over.���

Sam could not tell if she was joking.

Ai instructed Sam to get some rest and then rejoined the others outside. Peter and Marco were moving the remains of Peter’s truck out of the field, Peter loudly complaining about already losing his first vehicle. Ullen was wrapping Aer’s body in a method Ai suspected was to allow him to take her through the void. Arthur just stood in the middle of the field, near the crater she had made during the fight.

���You going to let Peter and Marco do everything?��� she asked him. ���There’s a lot that needs to be done if we’re going to get this place in order. Or at least cover up enough of the damages that nosy neighbors don’t ask any questions.��� Arthur didn’t respond. ���If you’re tired, go rest. This can wait til morning.���

Arthur had a distant stare. ���You heard what Aer said? Right before she died? About Adaghast’s voice in her head? How she couldn’t control it? What if ������

���Don’t, Arty,��� Ai warned.

���But what if the others are also like that?��� Arthur asked anyway. ���What if The Dark God is controlling people, making it impossible for them to resist him? It’s one thing to fight someone who is willingly doing evil, it is another hurt someone who has no choice.���

���You can’t let yourself go down this path. The moment you start treating our enemies as victims, the moment you hold back against them, you will die. Whatever the reason, they are the enemy. They want to hurt people, kill them, not just you but innocent people who can’t defend themselves.���

Arthur still seemed unconvinced. He was so absorbed in his personal turmoil that he didn’t notice Ullen come up beside him.

���There’s nothing that can be done about it,��� Ullen said, somberly. ���Adaghast will claim even more victims if he is allowed to regain his power. Even if his followers aren’t working for him willingly, it is better to stop them. Better for us ������ He paused and looked back to the body of his student. ���And better for them. Better than to leave them like that.���

It made a depressing amount of sense. Arthur thought of what he would want if he was somehow corrupted and forced to do the Dark God’s will. He certainly wouldn’t want to be allowed to hurt any of his friends. And he definitely wouldn’t want to hurt any innocents. It would be a better if they stopped him by any means necessary.

���The Dark God,��� he said with a seething anger. ���Adaghast. He’s the one responsible. For all of it.���

���We will stop him.��� Ai’s voice made it sound not like a probability but an eventuality.

The three Light Elements stood in the silence of camaraderie, an unspoken pact that they were in this together, bound by a common enemy.

���Is Ryu going to be alright?��� Arthur said to finally break the silence. Ai had briefly recounted the battle to him, and Ryu’s plight, but he had not yet had a moment to check on him. He rebuked himself for being so self-involved.

Ai’s normally unreadable face showed her worry clearly. ���It’s hard to be sure. Peter believes so, and now that he’s able to grasp his element he can tell better than I.���

���Ah, that old goat’s not going anywhere,��� Ullen reassured them. ���He’s too damn stubborn to let something little like a weak heart bring him down for good. Maybe if the Dark God and all his followers showed up, maybe, just maybe, they would have a chance. Short of that, he’ll be fine.���

���How do you know Ryu, again?��� Ai asked.

A small smile managed to break through Ullen’s somberness. ���Shortly after I was ��� ‘persuaded’ to join the ECT, one of my first assignments was to bring him in for questioning. Like you, he had a habit of doing what he thought was right without much concern for the consequences. We found we had a lot in common. Ended up fighting alongside him on more than one occasion against some particularly nasty fellows. Haven’t seen him since the day he decided to take an apprentice, though.��� He scratched at his chin, wistfully. ���Surprised the hell out of me when he did. He had always been adamant that he would never take a student. Now look at him, he’s got a whole school. Guess age changes a person.���

Arthur had trouble imagining Ryu as anything other than an instructor figure. It was hard to picture him as someone who didn’t actually want students.

There was a crashing noise from the other edge of the field, followed by swearing.

���I said ‘gently push it’!��� Peter yelled, waving his arms frantically towards his truck, which was now upside down at the bottom of a small incline. ���Oh man! Well, there goes literally any hopes of repair!���

���Hey guys!��� Arthur called over. ���Call it a day. We’ve all been through a lot. Let’s get some food and some sleep, tackle this stuff in the morning.��� He turned to Ullen. ���I know you have to deal with ��� well, you’re welcome to eat with us.���

���I appreciate it. Could really use the fuel for the trip through the void. These old bones get tired quicker than than they used to.���

As they made their way inside, Arthur took a moment to really take in the damage that was done here. The farm would never be the same.

���Remind me to never doubt your senses again, Ai,��� he commented. ���If you hadn’t detected Aer and stayed behind, who knows what would have happened?���

The comment caused Ai to pause. There had been something else tickling her senses, so faint she would have overlooked it if Arthur hadn’t mentioned it. It was different than Aer, more subtle.

Whatever it was, it was gone now. It was probably just an animal, now that she thought about it. It would not due anyone any good if she became paranoid.

In the wooded area beyond the farm, a stealthy figure carefully returned to his place of concealment, hiding both his self and his presence. He had gotten too close the farm and nearly given himself away.

His instructions had been clear: only interfere in the most dire of circumstances, because once he revealed himself he would not be able to stay. The battle from the Wind Element had nearly driven him from hiding; more than once it had seemed he would need to get involved and he had crept closer to the farm to do just that. Fortunately, everything had managed to work itself out without him in the end.

Now he could return to watching and waiting. There was no rush.

He was a very patient man. As anyone who had lived many centuries would be.

The post Chapter 16: After the Storm appeared first on Phil-Domo's.

Ullen’s dojo looked like one of a hundred other academies for the martial arts. Wooden floors, generic Asian décor, standing bags, all the expected stuff. All of it completely meaningless, a flimsy cover to disguise the school’s true purpose from prying eyes.

Because the two dozen students who stood in neat rows in front of Ullen were not here to learn martial arts. They were here to become Elementalists.

“Do not lose your focus,” Ullen instructed as he paced the lines of students. “In combat, one slip of concentration could cost you your life.”

The students ran the gambit from eleven to sixteen, came from all walks of life, and represented every Element of the Storm and of the Earth. The room glowed in a multi-colored display as the students channeled their elements in a tight circle around themselves. Loud music and discordant beeping tones blasted at the students from the speakers that circled them, testing their ability to handle distractions.

Most were performing well. Lindis, an English boy of thirteen, was surrounded by bright sparks, his sandy hair frizzing up. Gloria, a blond girl from Germany, was almost completely covered in conjured stone. A bubble of clear blue water surrounded Zane, a massive sixteen year old from South Africa.

Unfortunately, one student was still struggling just to grasp her element. Ilma, a flyspeck of a girl with boyish features accentuated by short, reddish-brown hair, stood at the front of the center row, as she always did, a look of deep concentration on her face. The girl was a hard worker, always giving it her best, never quitting, never giving up.

The thing was, she just had no talent. Either her connection to her element was particularly weak, or her mind didn’t work in a way that was conducive to channeling. It was a shame. She was a sweet girl, and the only one of his students who was a Wind Element. Not to mention …

“She’s not channeling again,” said a voice that always set Ullen’s hackles rising.

Katja Evi, Ilma’s mother and giant pain-in-the-ass, supervised the training from her seat in the corner, though she was only really focusing on her daughter. She was a tall and slender woman, with long auburn hair that ran down her back; she would have been attractive if not for the permanent scowl that was plastered on her face, one that grew more intense as she watched her daughter struggle.

“She didn’t do too poorly yesterday,” Ullen replied, keeping his voice low so that the students wouldn’t overhear. “She had gotten a grasp on the Wind’s flow for almost a minute -”

“And yet she still couldn’t channel it,” Katji barked. “Sometimes I wonder if we I am wasting my time here. Perhaps I am better off sending her to a boarding school somewhere while I find a more productive use of my time. Of course, without me here, things do not bode well for your school.” She adjusted the way she sat so that the ‘ECT’ badge on her uniform was better displayed to make her point.

Ullen was no fan of the ECT. They were a big part of the problem. It was because of them that there were so few Elementalists, and the few there were where mostly scattered loners. The Dark God was coming, whether they believed it or not. Maybe not in his lifetime, but the signs were there, and one day soon more Elementalists would be needed to fight him. If the legends he had read were correct, it had taken more thousands of Elementalists to defeat Adaghast the first time. How many would there be to respond to the call if he returned today? A few dozen? A hundred at most?

That was the true reason behind Ullen’s school. He needed to bolster the number of Elementalists in the world. Unfortunately, that went directly against the ECT’s rules. Taking any more than a single apprentice was a good way to get a visit from one of their enforcers. It was something of a miracle that he had been able to negotiate a deal with them at all: he got his school, but an ECT representative would be oversee it, ensuring the curriculum stressed the importance of keeping their powers secret, and they’d also get first pick of any students to recruit into their ranks. It had been Katja who had brokered the deal, agreeing to act as the ECT’s representative in exchange for her daughter being taken as a student.

Which put Ullen in the unenviable position of trying to keep her happy. If she ever decided to leave her post here, her superiors would probably shut his school down.

“Give her a little more time,” Ullen whispered. “Her connection to her Element may be a little weak, but -”

“It is not!” Katja argued far too loudly. “A connection to the Wind runs in our family’s blood. Every Evi woman for hundreds of years has been born with a strong connection. She’s just not trying hard enough. It’s because you spoil her.”

Ullen took a lot of abuse from Katja in the name of appeasing her, but he wouldn’t take an insult to his teaching methods laying down. “I most certainly do not. I push her just as hard as everyone else.”

Katja raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “Do you, now?” She rose quickly to her feet and immediately Ullen knew this was not going to be good. “Alright, everyone, that’s enough focus practice. It’s time for practical sparring. Pair up.” She turned her critical eye towards her daughter. “Ilma, you’re with Zane.”

Ilma’s face filled with understandable fear. Zane was a giant physically, and one of the best channelers among the students. She wouldn’t even be able to defend herself.

“Wait a second, Katja!” Ullen demanded. “You can’t expect Ilma to -”

“Is there any other student you would argue against pairing with Zane?” Katja asked. “Or is this a special exception for Ilma?” She watched him with a smug smirk, waiting for him to admit to what she considered ‘special treatment.’ And if he admitted that, she’d have an excuse to leave.

He nodded at Zane, who had been patiently waiting for Ullen to confirm Katja’s insane pairing. Zane rolled his eyes but did as he was instructed.

All Ullen could do was apologize under to his breath to poor Ilma.

Later, a beaten and bruised Ilma walked back to her room alone. Her ‘sparring’ session hadn’t been much more than her being used as a punching bag for Zane’s abilities. All the while her mother had been giving her that disgusted look. She wanted to channel so desperately, if only to never have to see that look again. But she was losing faith that she could.

You can, a voice seemed to whisper to her, so faint she couldn’t be sure if she had just imagined it. It was a strange voice, one that seemed to tickle her tantalizing promises of power. She thought that maybe if she listened more carefully, she might be able to hear it again ….

“Ilma!” Her master’s voice broke her attention away from the strange voice and it was quickly forgotten.

Ullen looked down at the bruises on her face and winced. “Jeez. That kid could have at least gone easy. Come on, let’s get some ointment on that.”

Ilma looked down at the ground. “You don’t have to. I can take care of it myself.”

“It’s my job.” His face was wracked with guilt. “I’m sorry, I should have never let happen.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault. It’s because I’m weak and useless. Like mom always says.”

“It’s not true!” Ullen spoke with such ferocity that it actually startled her. “Just because it is harder for you to connect with your element doesn’t make you weak, and it certainly doesn’t make you useless.”

“But mom says -”

“Mothers aren’t always right.” He sighed. “Don’t tell her I said that, though. Can you keep a secret, Ilma?”

She nodded.

“I also struggle. Even today, with years of practice, I’m not what you would consider ‘powerful.’ I can only channel small amounts of my Light at a time. In fact, many of my peers would call me ‘weak’ in a contest of pure power.”

Ilma gave him a doubtful look. Ullen was supposed to be a very powerful Light Element. She had overheard her mother talking with the people she worked with about how difficult Ullen would be to bring in by force if they had to.

Ullen smiled. “It’s true.” He lifted one of his hands and a small ball of light drifted out from underneath his sleeve. “That’s why I had to train in control twice as hard, why I had to get more clever with what I did with what I could muster. My motes require only the smallest amount of Light to produce, but with them I have defeated enemies hundreds of times more powerful than myself. It is because I have an absolute mastery of each one, unbreakable connection and focus; I beat my opponents in a contest of control instead of power.”

She watched the ball of light drift around her, mesmerized by its playful pattern through the air. “Do you think I can do something like that?”

“Of course. We only need to get you channeling the smallest sliver of your Wind. Once you have that, we will make you a master of it, able to do things with it that will leave so called ‘powerful’ Elementalists in awe.”

Ilma looked at him, wide-eyed, and then she smiled. Ullen was her master, he wouldn’t lie to her. If he thought she could do it, then she believed it, too.

Over the next week, Ilma tackled her training with renewed vigor. She had a new goalpost, one that seemed much closer and more obtainable. All she needed was to channel a little power, then Ullen would help her learn how to use it. She was getting closer every day, she can feel it. Only a little more.

She didn’t even mind the snickering from the other students anymore. They’re teasing was getting meaner; it seemed the harder she worked the worse their bullying. But she ignored it, trusting in Ullen’s promise.

Until the day they decided to corner her. It was her turn to clean the dojo, and she was left alone to sweep and mop the floors. She knew she was in for some bullying when Lindis and Gloria, two of the worst, sneaked back inside when everyone else had gone.

“Look, Gloria. Itty-Bitty Ilma is finally making herself useful.” Lindis put his foot on the mop bucket, halting Ilma’s progress. “Did you finally decide you’re better off as a janitor?”

Ilma ignored the jibe and tried to mop around him.

Gloria got in her face. “Why don’t you give it up? Every moment Master Ullen wastes coddling you is time he could spend training a real student. If it wasn’t for your mommy he would have never taken you in the first place.”

Ilma didn’t listen. Instead she walked over to the other side of the dojo to clean there.

Or she tried to. She only make it a few steps before Gloria grabbed her from behind and put her in a hold. Ilma cried out and tried to squirm free, but Gloria’s grip was like a vice. She was channeling Stone; Ilma’s hand no chance against her enhanced strength.

“I don’t like being ignored, Itty-Bitty Ilma!” Gloria declared. “We’ll make you listen to us. What do you think we should do to her this time? Take her to the toilets?”

“Nah. She never learns her lesson when we do that.” He paced in front of Ilma in a fair impersonation on how Ullen observed his students. “Hey, didn’t Master Ullen say he was going to be gone all weekend?” He beamed with a sick smile. “She likes the dojo so much, how about we help her spend the weekend here? The mat-closet has a lock on it.”

When Ilma realized what they were planning to do, she started kicking and screaming. Tears streamed down her cheek, and despite herself she couldn’t help but beg her tormentors to let her go. She knew that would only encourage them more, but the thought of spending all weekend trapped in a closet made her panic.

The door to the dojo opened just as the two were shoving her into the closet. She felt a moment of help when she saw her mother approach.

“Mom, please, help me!” she cried. “They’re trying to lock me in the closet all weekend!”

Both of the students froze in their tracks, caught red-handed. They exchanged meaningful glances, trying to silently put their story together.

“So what?” her mother asked, surprising everyone in the room. “You’re an Elementalist. Break free. Knock down the door. It should be easy for you by now. If you can’t even do that, you are truly worthless.”

“I’m not!” Ilma cried, biting back her tears. “Master Ullen told me! He told me I can still be useful, even if I can only use a little bit of Wind! I can control it and be strong!”

Her mother scoffed. “Ullen pities you.” She shook her head. “My daughter, an Evi, pitied by a man like Ullen. Disgraceful.”

Ilma’s tears dried as she tried to process what her mother was saying. “No, no! You’re lying. Master Ullen …”

“Master Ullen fills your head with lies,” her mother concluded. “So you keep trying, so I have to stay here, so he can keep his school. He doesn’t care about you. He just pities you.” She turned and began walking away. “If you can’t get out of that closet on your own, then I will give up on you, too.”

With permission to keep going, Gloria and Lindis shoved Ilma into the closet and locked the door. Ilma banged on the door, begging with them to let her out, begging her mother to come back. After a while her pleads turned to sobs, and her sobs turned into weeping. Eventually she ran out of tears, and she was left sniffling, empty, alone.

Ullen pitied her. Ullen lied to her. Hearing that somehow hurt worse than being locked in the closet, worse than being abandoned by her mother. She thought, at the very least, Ullen believed in her, and it had made her believe in herself. Now she didn’t even have that. Her mother was right – she was truly useless.

No, came a whispering voice, familiar, yet she could have sworn that she had never heard it before. You are potential.

“Who’s there?”

She held her breath and listened close for the voice to return.

It did, a tickle on her ears, like a gentle breeze. You can be strong. Stronger than them, stronger than your mother, stronger than Ullen. You need just to listen to me.

The promises sounded so believable. There was no doubt in Ilma’s mind that whoever this voice belonged to could fulfill it. Yet, there was also something dangerous about it. Something … wrong.

Listen. Accept the power. Become the wind.

She felt something. Something new yet oddly known. It was the flow of her element, the Wind, not sitting at the very edge of her grasp, but right beside her, almost touching her. She could extend one finger and take it.

There was more to it. The voice was doing this, handing the reigns of the flow to her. She knew that taking it now would make her subservient to this voice. It made her hesitate.

This will only be offered once. Take it, fulfill your potential. Or don’t, remain as you are. Choose.

The voice sounded a little fainter now, and Ilma could feel the flow of Wind slowly begin to slip away from her. Slowly, tentatively, she reached out and touched it.

Power flowed through her, power like she could never have imagined before. She was not just grasping the Wind, now, she was dominating it. The Wind was hers to command, and it got do anything. She could do anything. And what she wanted more than anything else was satiate her burning hate.

She broke free from the closet with no effort and set about proving her strength to those that doubted her.

When Ullen returned, he was greeted with the greatest horror he would ever know: his students, strewn about the dojo, covered in blood, their bodies twisted into unnatural contortions. Katja, her uniform stripped, her body laid bare, hanging from the ceiling. And standing in the middle of all the wreckage was little Ilma.

She was covered in blood; none of it seemed to be hers. Her clothing was torn, her hair was a mess, her teeth were bared like a wild animal.

But the worse was her eyes. They were no longer the eyes of the Ilma he knew. The were cold. Vicious. Merciless.

It was apparent what had happened here, yet despite the preponderance of evidence Ullen couldn’t bring himself to believe Ilma could have done this. He hesitated.

In his moment of hesitation, he was blasted by a howling gust of wind. He was knocked through the school’s wall and into the courtyard. The last thing he saw before blacking out was young Ilma taking to the sky.

“Ilma,” Ullen muttered, dumbfounded. She had grown up, looking a lot like her mother had at that age, but it was undoubtedly her.

“I am not that girl anymore,” she rasped. “My name is Aer. I am the master of the winds, and I am more powerful than you.” She broke into a coughing fit.

“You serve the Dark God,” Ullen stated. He had know. Since that day at the school he had known. But he needed to hear it out loud.

She smiled, her lips cracking. “He is a greater master than you ever were. He filled me with power, where you just filled me with false promises.” She coughed again. “And I see you now serve the ECT. Will life’s ironies never end?”

Ullen was vaguely aware of the others speaking, trying to get his attention. The world seemed still of everything but him and his former student.

“We should finish her off,”Ai said, bringing Ullen crashing back to reality.

“Don’t you touch her!” he demanded, more fiercely than he had intended.

Ai folded her arms, looking unimpressed. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but if you think just because you’re ECT you can order us around …”

Arthur put up his hands in a calming motion. “Ullen’s cool, Ai. He’s friends with Ryu. Just give him a minute.”

She eyed Ullen with suspicion but backed down. Ullen would need to remember he owed Arthur one.

He knelt down next to his fallen student. She was in bad shape. If she didn’t get medical attention soon, she would die anyway. And despite everything she had done, he just couldn’t let that happen.

“I’m going to take you back to headquarters,” he declared. “We’ll get there quickly through the void. Their doctors will help you.”

“Is that right?” Ilma’s smile had faded, replaced with a fierce scowl. “Is that what you think? You think I need your help? You think I’m a little girl that needs saving?”

To Ullen’s horror, the wind began to pick up.

“Ullen …” Ai warned.

“Everyone stay back!” Ullen demanded. “I will handle it! Just stay back!”

Ilma’s body began to raise from the ground, lifted by the winds, until she was dangling in the air like a puppet with invisible strings.

“Ilma, please!” Ullen pleaded. “Your body can’t take this right now! If you push yourself in this state, you will kill yourself!”

“My – name – is – Aer!” she declared as the wind howled forward.

Motes of Light shot out from underneath Ullen’s sleeves and filled the area between him and his former student. The wind buffeted the motes and immediately died, with not so much as a breeze getting past. The wind continued to pick up in power growing fiercer and louder, but it could not break through calm area created by the motes.

“You can’t keep this up!” Ullen shouted, hoping he could be heard over the wind. “Please! Let me help you!”

“I don’t need your help, and I don’t need your pity!” Ilma cried. “Always looking down on me! But I know your secret, Master! You are weak! But I’m not! Not anymore! I am the master of the wind!”

The creaking of wood joined the cacophony as a tree was ripped off its roots by the wind and tossed. The motes shot out to surround it, taking the wind out from under before it came even near the wall Ullen was maintaining. It crashed on the ground next Ilma.

She fell a moment later.

Ullen rushed forward and caught her. His heart sunk when he looked at her almost still form in his arms. She was pale and clammy, blood filled her mouth and nose, her eyes were unfocused. There was no way she would survive a trip through the void now. She was going to die.

He gently laid her on the ground, his mind racing for some final words of comfort for his wayward student but coming up blank.

“It’s gone,” she whispered, spitting up blood with every word.

“What is?” Ullen asked gently.

“Him. His presence. His voice. It’s gone.” Her eyes began to swell with tears. “I … I thought I could control it. I thought … I thought I could let just a little of the power in and not be affected. But it was … was like I opened the floodgates. Just a tiny crack, and it all came pouring in. Hate. Anger. Wrath. And with it, power. I … was consumed. And now it’s gone. I can think clearly again.” She coughed, and Ullen gently wiped the blood from her face. “And I miss it. How messed up is that? Guess even the Dark God decided there was no use for me, after all. I was worthless … to the very end.”

“You can still help.” Ullen put a hand on her cheek. “You’ve been a follower of Adaghast for a while. Tell us something that will help us beat him. Tell us about his other followers. Give us anything and your death will have meant something.”

A silence. Ullen worried that she may have passed already.

“I … I’m sorry,” she finally managed. “The meeting … it was all very secretive. I wasn’t even allowed back there, after I failed to bring back Sam the first time. I had too track him down myself … I followed his mother until she got the address from him … I don’t think anyone else knows. I … There were six others. Including the leader, a man who … covered our faces with shadows … I’m sorry, that’s all I …”

That rang an alarm bell in Ullen’s head. “That’s enough. You’ve actually given me a big lead.”

She tried to crane her head to get a better look at him. “I can never tell … when you mean what you say … and when you are just pitying me.”

“I never pitied you, Ilma. I always believed in you.”

Those were the last words she heard.

The post Chapter 15: Broken Bonds appeared first on Phil-Domo's.

Ai had accepted, pretty much since the day Ryu had agreed to train, that she would one day die for this cause. It wasn’t something she feared. In fact, she was grateful that she had something so important to fight for. If her death brought the world one step closer to defeating this evil, then her life had meaning.

What she had not expected was for her death to come so soon, or against a single enemy she was certain she should be able to beat. She only hoped she had weakened Aer enough that she couldn’t pursue Ryu and Sam. If they had been observing the fight, they were probably already fleeing. Ryu would get them somewhere safe. As Aer stumbled towards her, the wind carrying some old farm equipment alongside her, at least Ai could die knowing that –

A fireball streaked past her head, breaking her out of her contemplations of death. Aer was caught completely off-guard and unable to defend herself. One moment she was sneering while she prepared to finish Ai off, the next her robes were on fire. The wind died suddenly, leaving all the equipment to drop rough to ground, as Aer screamed out in pain and clawed at her robes.

Sam stepped in front of Ai, once again surrounded by the haphazard sparks that accompanied his channeling. From the look of concentration on his face, he at least seemed to be in control this time. Exhausted, but in control.

���Who told you to come back out here?��� Ai scolded, though there was no force behind her words, nor could she be truly angry.

���She wants me,��� Sam said, his voice angrier than she had ever heard him. ���I’m not going to just sit back and let you be killed when I’m the target! I’m going to fight!���

The wind whipped past Aer and put out Sam’s flames. The damage had already been done. The multiple layers of her robes had protected her body somewhat, the outer layers turning to scorched rags in the process, but her face was splotched with burns and her hair was singed to a close crop.

���You little piece of shit,��� Aer growled, her voice choked and full of rage. ���You know, if I kill everyone here, I’m sure Adaghast will forgive one carrier, killed in the cross-fire, in exchange for the heads of those who dared stand against him.���

The fire flared around Sam as he created another ball of flames and pitched it at Aer. This time she was ready for it and deflected it with it a blast of wind. The wind picked up as she prepared her own assault, but Sam did not plan on giving her the chance. He had learned that he was outmatched here in terms of control, yet maybe he could beat her in ferocity. One fireball after another launched from his hands, at first being pitched like a physical ball, until Sam realized the throwing motion added nothing, after which he just kept his arms outstretched and let the stream of fireballs fly.

Aer struggled to keep up with the brigade. As soon as her winds extinguished one flame another one immediately followed. Every part of her hurt, the pain threatening her concentration. One slip and those flames would reach her. Fury drove her, a rage that burned in her very core. Even as the flames licked at her face she refused to concede ground. Her winds howled, giving voice to her anger.

Sam kept up the assault as long as he could handle, longer, his body protesting the strain. His heart hammered in his chest as if he was running at full sprint. His breath became more and more labored until he was gasping for air, but still he would not relent.

His body gave out first. With one last rasping breath, Sam collapsed to the ground.

Ai forced herself to her feet and stumbled a step in front of him. It was a pointless gesture, she still couldn’t focus enough to grasp her element. At best she was buying Sam seconds.

For a moment, Aer didn’t attack. She stood, swaying on her feet, groaning from pain and exhaustion. Just as Ai was beginning to hope that their battle would end in a stalemate, the wind started to pick up again.

���Who ��� do you think ��� I am!?��� Aer shouted between gasping breaths. ���I am Aer! I control the winds! I will not be treated like some amateur -���

Whatever claim she was about to make was cut off by a sudden grunt as she was tackled from the side by a sprinting Peter. The two went down together in a jumble of flailing limbs and shouted expletives. Peter was physically stronger and had the advantage of surprise. He got Aer beneath him and put his knee on her chest to hold her down and levered his arm on her neck. She struggled, grasped at his face, but he was too strong to be thrown off.

Physically, anyway. A howl of wind and Peter was thrown off, sent flying several yards away. He crashed a fallen tree, uprooted by Aer’s earlier winds, and felt himself be cut as he scraped against the branches.

He prepared himself to be struck again, expecting to be blown clear into the sky this time, but no attack came. When he looked, he saw Aer stumbling past him, her focus again on Ai and Sam. Peter couldn’t blame her, he was the only one here who wasn’t really an Elementalist. Even if he could force himself back up to rush her again, what could he do empty-handed? He was helpless in this fight.

His hands grasped the bark of the tree, anger causing him to grip so hard that it hard, so hard that his nails cracked and blood dripped from his fingertips down the wood. Sam, his best friend, was about to die, all because he was too powerless to do anything about it, all because he couldn’t grasp his element.

Wood. What a stupid element to be stuck with in the first place. He wasn’t some hippie, some nature-lover, singing with the birds and making love to trees. He was a gamer, he spent most of his life indoors. The only time he spent outdoors was on the baseball diamond. How was he supposed to find a connection with an element he didn’t really understand?

As if in response to his frustrations, he could feel the bark of the tree in his hand begin to shift. It was different from the other times he had tried to grasp at his element. It was here, a physical thing, one he could feel and dig his fingers into. This wasn’t him trying to grasp at some abstract concept of nature, but of reaching out to the wood in his hands. Peter channeled.

It was a strange and confusing experience. The power ran from him and through the tree. All it was waiting for was him to give it a form. But with this much to work with, what form should it possibly take? Peter had only one instinct.

The bark reshaped itself, molding into itself over and over, until it was a baseball bat in his hands. He hefted it, a wooden bat with the same weight and form as a hundred others he had held, and yet this one somehow had the force of the entire tree behind it.

He got to his feet just as Aer was leveling her arms in a too familiar manner at Sam and Ai. Sprinting faster than he had ever in his life, he rushed in front of the howling winds. He held up his bat, his tree given the form of a bat, and swung it against the winds, hoping his instincts and minor elemental knowledge was right.

The bat collided with the wind, held it back even as the raging forces threatened to knock him off his feet. In his mind, this had gone better: he had knocked the wind right back at Aer in a similar matter as one of Ai’s shields. But now that he was here all he could really do was hold it at bay. He gritted his teeth and pushed even as he felt himself sliding along the ground, back towards the defenseless Sam and Ai.

And then was the wind was gone. Peter nearly fell flat on his face from the suddenness of it.

Aer must have been equally surprised, because her eyes darted about wildly. ���Who?!���

���That’s enough!��� came the stern voice of the farm’s teacher. Ryu stepped out into the open, one fist leveled in a punching motion in Aer’s direction. ���You will not harm my students any further!���

���Should have stayed inside!��� Aer cried, her voice as wild as her ragged appearance. The wind picked up again, this time its fury directed at the old man.

Ryu punched the air, a simple maneuver that made it look like he was practicing a martial arts stance. The wind again simply dissipated.

���I said enough!��� Ryu shouted, now his fists taking on bright white glow.

Ai hopelessly stumbled forward. ���Ryu, don’t!���

But his mind had already been made up. As a frenzied Aer sent yet another blast of wind his way, Ryu struck out in front of him with both fists.

The world seemed to grow still. The wind died. Then there was a kind of blur in the air, a distortion in the way that light passed through it. The area between Aer and Ryu was just slightly brighter than its surroundings. The light undulated, ripples of brighter light passing between them, first slowly, then faster and faster. All of this happened in the span of a few seconds, but to the observers time seemed to drag on.

Aer was caught in the waves of light, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything. Her form became distorted, elongated, shimmering. Her mouth was frozen in a silent scream as the light seemed to tear at the foundations of her very being.

Finally, the light faded. Aer stood a moment longer, a shell-shocked look frozen on her face. And then she dropped.

Ryu, his face covered in sweat, stood just a second longer, a grim smile on his face.

Then he joined Aer on the ground.

���For the record,��� Ullen said as he casually walked towards Arthur, hands in his pockets, ���When I asked under whose authority you fought, Ryu would have been an acceptable answer.��� He looked around at the devastated, flooded clearing. ���Would have saved us a whole lot of trouble.���

���Wait, what?��� Arthur’s exhausted brain was desperately trying to catch up. ���You know Ryu?���

���Everyone knows Ryu,��� Ullen responded. ���He was kind of a big deal, back in the day. Not that everyone in the ECT shares my opinion of him, but I have a lot of respect for the guy.���

���Ruvian didn’t hurt you,��� Arthur stated, dumbfounded.

Ullen still had that oddly playful smile. ���Me and Ryu fought side-by-side a few times. Ruvian and I got well acquainted. He’d never hurt a friend.���

That was news to Arthur. As far as he could tell, Ruvian was a force of destruction that didn’t care what it took out.

���I knew Ryu took an apprentice. I should have guessed it was you when I saw how damn stubborn you are. He must pass that on through his training.���

He stopped in from of Arthur and held out his hand. ���How about we reintroduce ourselves? I’m Ullen. It is a pleasure to meet you, Arthur, apprentice of The Silver Dragon.���

���Uh, yeah, nice to meet you, too,��� Arthur managed during an awkward handshake.

Ullen gave him a friendly pat on the back. ���Speaking of apprentices, I should go check to make sure mine are alright.���

A discomfited Litint was helping a barely conscious Watint keep his feet. They both shrunk under Ullen’s stare, Watint attempting to cover his swelling eye with one hand.

���A poor performance, boys,��� Ullen berated. ���If your enemies had used lethal force, you’d be both be finished right now. Seems you both have still have a long way to go if you want to join the ECT.���

Marco beamed as he put a hand on Watint’s shoulder. ���Aw, your boy here tried his best. He was just up against a boxing legend, is all.���

That earned Marco some unfriendly words in Russian.

���Well, if we’re all done here,��� Arthur said, hoping to jump on this window of peace before it closed, ���I really should be getting Kanos back. Who knows when The Dark God might try to -���

���Hey guys!��� Kanos called over from the roof of the now floating RV. ���It’s getting kind of late so I think I’m going to take off. I’ll have to meet your friends some other time. Glad to see you guys all worked everything out, though! Nice meeting you, Arthur!���

He flew off into the air even as Arthur desperately tried to call him back. Soon he was out of sight, and Arthur felt he was in no shape to go chasing after him.

���Well, the point was to teach the carriers how to defend themselves,��� Arthur reasoned. ���I think Kanos seems more than capable of handling himself right now. It is a shame for him to have to be on his own, though. Maybe I’ll come back for another try after I recover.��� His reasoning didn’t help the pain of seeing the whole point of this trip fly away.

���Guess we should get back so I can give my report,��� Ullen said. He scratched at his head. ���They’re probably not going to like what I have to say, though. Give Ryu my regards.���

Together, the two groups returned to the lake (or where the lake used to be) where both had arrived through the void. Almost immediately Arthur noticed something was wrong.

���The path back,��� Arthur thought out-loud. ���It’s gone. But Ryu should be holding it open. Unless ���.��� He remembered Ai’s warning of a pressing danger, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Unless something happened to Ryu.

Vizel was not at all content with the battle’s resolution. Instead of killing each other and leaving the survivors weak enough for him to pick off, the bastards had made peace. But the worse part was, his target had flown the coop. He was now left with the unfortunate choice of chasing after carrier while his trail was still fresh, or killing the others.

Kill them. It’s what you really want. That would be so rewarding, it would feel so good. It had been too long since he killed someone. It was so tempting.

But there was no telling how long it would take. The older man seemed pretty strong, and he had barely broken a sweat during the fight. By the time Vizel was done (and gotten his fill of mutilating the bodies) the carrier’s trail would be cold.

And Adaghast was not one to disappoint.

Cursing his foul luck, Vizel departed from his potential prey and followed after the flying child.

���Ryu!��� Ai cried as he struggled over to him.

He was breathing, but barely, and his face was pallid and covered in sweat.

���What’s wrong with him?��� Peter asked as he rushed over to help.

���His heart has gotten weak in his old age,��� Ai explained, her voice cracking. ���Channeling puts a lot of stress on the body. He knows he’s not supposed to do anything strenuous with his light, foolish old man!���

Peter listened to her words, but it was kind of hard to focus on their meaning with everything else his senses were being bombarded with. Ever since he channeled into that tree, it felt like he had opened himself up to a whole new set of sensations. He could feel where animals around him were, he could sense the power of the plants and trees nearby, he was assaulted by the emptiness where life had been uprooted during the battle.

But the biggest, most distracting sensation was coming from Ai. She was in pain. Her whole body hurt to some degree, but that arm flared like an angry sun. It must have been excruciating, yet she was more concerned for her teacher than herself.

He needed to do something. If not for her than for himself. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stomach being around so much pain.

���Ai, come here for a sec,��� Peter said as he gently reached for her arm.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was doing, and from Ai’s wide-eyed glance he could tell that she didn’t know any better. All he knew was that he needed to quell this pain. Once he touched her he again felt the power at his disposal, this power that flowed through all life, including him. This flow was more stubborn, more set in its ways than the already-dying tree, but he could push on it a little, so he did. Carefully as he could he tried to push away the parts that were causing the pain, tried to make it match up with the way it was supposed to be.

To both of their amazement, it worked. Ai’s body was still pretty beat up, and her arm wasn’t in the greatest of shapes, but it was no longer broken. A wave of relief washed over her as the pain faded, strong enough that Peter felt it, too.

���That was incredible, Peter,��� Ai said. ���I can hardly believe ������ She trailed off as she remembered her fallen mentor. ���Can you help him?���

Peter knelt down and put a hand on Ryu. He could feel the life still beating inside him, faint but present. This was different than with Ai. Ryu wasn’t really in pain, he was struggling to hold on to that glimmer of life. Peter considered reaching out for that glimmer, seeing if he could stoke it in some way, make it stronger, but decided against it.

���It’s too risky,��� he said, shaking his head. ���I still barely know what I’m doing. The life inside him ��� inside all of us, it is really complex. I feel like if I touched it, I could as easily snub it out as help him.���

Ai nodded, her face resolute but understanding. ���Then we’ll just have to help him the old fashioned. I’ll get him to his bed. You go and help Sam.���

As Ai carried Ryu to his bed, she reflected on the day she had first come to him, the struggle she had undergone to get him to agree to train her, the feeling of finally having a purpose in life when she was finally accepted.

���Don’t you die yet, Ryu,��� she pleaded. ���We still need you here.���

���I can’t watch after Arthur on my own.���

���What do you mean it’s gone?��� Marco demanded.

���I mean it’s gone!��� Arthur repeated. ���I can’t get us back.��� He frantically paced around the bed of the lake, his worry making him forgot how tired he was. ���Ai must have been right. Something happened, and I wasn’t there! If something has to Ryu, I’ll never be able to -��� He couldn’t finish the thought.

���Calm down, boy,��� Ullen said, his voice firm. ���Ryu’s not one to go gently into the night. And he’s also not the only one who knows how to create a path through the void. I’ll get you home.��� He turned to his two apprentices. ���You two wait here and try not to get beat up anymore. I imagine when we don’t report in, Myst will be by shortly to pick you up. Just keep your mouths shut about what happened here until I get back.���

Watint muttered something under his breath while Litint gave a very serious nod.

���Thanks, Ullen,��� Arthur said, anxious to be back. ���We live on a farm, it’s located -���

���I know where it is,��� Ullen cut in. He grabbed Arthur by one shoulder and Marco by the other. ���Here we go.���

Not too long later, Ullen and his two passengers stepped onto Ryu’s farm. Immediately, it became apparent that a battle had taken place here. Everything was torn up, trees knocked down, equipment destroyed, and a big hole sat in the center of the field.

The farmhouse itself seemed to still be mostly in tact, thankfully. As Arthur was about to make his way over there to see what happened, Ai stepped out. She looked like she had just fallen off the side of a mountain, but she was still alive, at least.

���About time you returned,��� she said when she spotted him. She eyed the ECT uniform on Ullen but chose not to say anything about it yet. ���Where’s the carrier?���

���He chose not to come with us,��� Arthur explained. ���He’s kind of a strange one, but he’s already a talented Elementalist, so my hope is he will be fine. What happened here?���

Ai sneered. ���One of Adaghast’s minions found this place. Caught me off-guard, nearly killed us all. I was just coming out to make sure she stays down this time.���

Arthur recognized the figure, beaten and still as it was he would never forget her face. Aer, the first servant of The Dark God he had come in contact with. She was a powerful Wind-Element; it was no wonder Ai had trouble.

He wasn’t the only one who recognized her. Ullen pushed past him and Ai to rush up beside her. Memories came flooding back to him: a moonlight night, the bloodied bodies of his students tossed about like rag dolls, those cold eyes.

Those cold eyes were looking at him now. To everyone surprise, Aer still drew breath. She cracked a bloody smile.

���Hello, there,��� she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. ���It is good to see you again. Master Ullen.���

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