Fire Prince

By Kris Shamloo

Copyright 2012 Kris Shamloo

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be sold, modified, or used in any way commercially without explicit consent from the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please download an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

Chapter One – The assassination of Nobleman Eilef

The portal connecting the two planes would be open for less than a day. The ivory tower was dressed in gilded banners. Thin black burns pockmarked the surface beneath the fabric. The assassin risked being trapped if he failed. He carefully burnt his hand and foot holds into the surface. His purpose was clear; his actions were methodical.

The steady winds off the plains gave substance to the banners, concealing his body from the sentinel. The red glow of his fingers was faintly visible through the cloth. He climbed higher. The solitary winged sentinel caught a thermal and spiraled lazily upwards around the hidden warrior. A wisp of smoke reached the sentinel, her eyes widened.

The assassin heard the sentinels screech of alarm and froze. He released the vain hope that his presence was not the cause of her scream and muttered, “Damn, jig’s up.” Surprise was still on his side; he burnt a new set of holds outside the concealment of the banner. The sentinel dove towards him immediately. The great bird was greeted with a ferocious bolt of flame.

The sentinel’s limp body fell towards the ground through a cloud of smoke and singed feathers. “It won’t be long now,” the assassin told himself. More sentinels would arrive shortly. He raced towards the pinnacle in bursts of flame and ash. He hung against the railing of the pinnacle with one arm and eyed his pocket chronometer, “Bit early.”

The old priest guarding the treasures atop the tower stood at the ready with his bow drawn. The arrow’s head tipped with white light. “Stop right there young man,” he said. “I’m not here for your life priest; I’m here for that,” the assassin pointed to a small plain box. “I will not tolerate thieves; it is my sacred duty to protect these relics.” His voice shook; his bow shook.

Two sickles of lava poured from the assassin’s wrists into his hands. The intruder sighed, he saw the priest’s arm wobble. Half in fear, half from the strain of holding his bow taut the priest loosed his arrow. With a flash the flame warrior cut the flying arrow and crossed the checkered marble floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you are a good man.” The warrior’s whisper was sincere, his right sickle piercing cleanly through the priest’s chest.

He turned to the small box sitting amongst a lavish array of precious items. He opened the lid with a strange reverence for its contents. The dull crystal was cradled by a small velvet pillow. His gaze at the object was broken by the howling screeches of the reinforcing sentinels. “You planned for this; you’ll make it,” he said to himself.

Hastily, he stuffed the crystal into his pocket. In a sweeping arc he dove from the tower pivoting around the railing. His sickle caught the center of the highest banner and he rode the wave of tearing fabric in a fury towards the bottom. A spurt of flame cushioned his landing and sent a spider web of cracks through the cobblestone street.

The city guard had reached the tower, a full squadron of battle hardened great falcons, huge avian predators native to the plains of Eida. Combat was not his mission; the assassin ran. The sharp eyed leader spotted the flame warrior and screeched commands. The squadron dove.

The city’s roads were a sprawling network of twisting alleyways. Only a few of the largest main roadways were thoughtfully planned. The corridors hid the warrior from his pursuers. “Damn!” shouted the warrior stopped cold by a dead end. The smoke cleared and the assassin had elevated to the rooftops.

An eager falcon dove in towards his prey, talons tipped with white light. The sentinel crashed into a stained glass sky light as his target vanished back to the alleys. The lead guard screeched at his subordinate in anger; the chase ran on.

The adrenaline was intoxicating; the hard-minded assassin was thoroughly enjoying his first true mission. He thought to himself; just make it to the farm. The sentinel’s formation widened as they tried to control the assassin’s movements. With a screech the slimmest falcon broke off outpacing her fellow guards.

The fleeing warrior saw the sleek bird heading off towards the portal site; it’s going to warn the portal guard. A desperate fireball launched towards the sentinel but fell well short. The further from the center of the city the chase went, the more exposed the assassin became. Single dives could be dodged, but in the open a coordinated attack was a serious threat.

The lead guard saw his window of opportunity. In a few hundred yards the buildings vanished into the open plain. The command was given and the squadron prepared themselves. When the flame warrior broke through the safety of the city’s buildings he would be forced to contend with the great birds. The lead guard flew higher, his timing would be perfect. He dove at the exposed thief.

The bird’s speed was tremendous. He plummeted towards where the assassin would be the most exposed. His light tipped talons shone brightly, echoing the falcon’s fierce determination. The dive flattened as he turned parallel to the ground. Wake from his winged body threw laundry and rooftop furniture into the streets.

There was nowhere for the assassin to hide now. He left the safety of the city and was in the open field. Almost there, he thought. He guessed the sentinels would try to stop him here at the outskirts of the city. The warrior hadn’t underestimated the capability of his foes; he knew the power of a falcon in a full dive. The lead guard dropped on him like a meteor.

There was a blinding burst of earth and flame. The lead falcon’s body skipped across the plains tumbling wing over wing. His talons were empty. The mighty avian regained his composure and screeched to his squadron. Nothing. Their chase had failed, the assassin vanished.

Safe underground the assassin quickly moved towards the portal site. His network of tunnels had taken weeks to build but his diligent preparation was paying dividends now. Periodically, he stopped and collapsed lengths of his tunnel. His hands pantomimed the action of the spell.

Nearer his destination he stopped in his small storage room stocked with emergency supplies in case he failed to cross through the portal in time. The water was stale and lukewarm but refreshing after the stress of the pursuit. He emptied the canteen and sat down. Flicking open his chronometer he saw he had a few hours to kill. His eyes closed.

**

The portal site was buzzing with activity. Denizens of Eida, the Plane of Light gathered to say their goodbyes to their friends from the Plane of Fire. Merchants, exchange students, and adventurers alike all crossed the portal returning to their homeland. The last of the Plane of Fire citizens had crossed back over when the Captain of the Guard received news of the attack.

“Milady, a warrior from Beldur entered the tower vault and killed the priest guarding it,” the Captain knelt with his head bowed. Essa looked blankly at her Captain. The news shocked the goddess. “What… what was taken?” she asked, regaining her composure. The Captain answered, “The priests are inventorying the vault as we speak, although they say at first glance nothing is missing.”

Essa closed her eyes and searched for an explanation. She was certain the most valuable things in the vault were her sword and shield, the very weapons she held in her hands now. The Captain watched her silently, awaiting any orders. Her folded wings fluttered, revealing she had made a decision. The Captain stood at crisp attention while his goddess walked by resolute, headed for the portal.

Essa crossed through the inky black portal into Beldur. A similar host had gathered at the portal site in the Plane of Fire. Essa walked towards the largest tent. “Ah my dear, come for a goodbye kiss?” said Bellos, god of Beldur. Bellos was relaxing in a large pile of cushions. “One of your citizens broke into my tower vault and killed one of my priests,” said Essa dryly.

“I know nothing about it, what was taken?” Bellos asked curiously. “Nothing obvious, I’m sure the thief will make a break for the portal before it closes,” answered Essa. She continued, “I’d like to stop him in Eida to hold trial for his crimes.” Bellos nodded, “Of course, you know how I feel about things like this.” Essa’s face remained stoic, but her eyes began to wet.

As she was leaving the tent Bellos added, “If he does manage to cross, he will be held accountable here.” Essa paused then exited the tent. She took a moment to gaze at the jagged and icy terrain. It was gently snowing. One of the nearby volcanoes bled a steady stream of bright orange. She left Beldur.

The ticking of his chronometer was soothing. “Just a few minutes now,” the assassin said to himself. The young man had used the previous hour to destroy as much trace of his purpose and identity within the tunnel. Large portions of the small network were fully collapsed, it would take some time for the laborers of Eida to clear the tunnel; light magic did not lend itself well to excavation.

He snapped shut the chronometer, it was time. He looked up at the ceiling of earth and sighed. This would be his only opportunity to escape back to Beldur. The portal was due to shut.

On the surface of the portal site the Captain of the Guard had doubled security. Sentinels patrolled the skies, the largest ones mounted with archers. Essa watched as the portal began to heave and crackle. The portal began to close. “Get ready, it’s closing,” she said to her Captain. “Yes milady,” nothing else could be done.

Only the goddess noticed the subtle bulging of earth beneath their feet. “On me! He’s underground!” she shouted. The earth tore open and a massive wurm bellowed flame. With wild swings of its head the wurm lobbed gobs of magma around the portal site. “Bring it down!” the Captain ordered his archers; streaks of light pierced the lava wurm.

The portal was nearly shut; Essa flew towards the head of the wurm, sword and shield at the ready. This is just the decoy, she thought mid flight. The portal! She turned mid flight. The assassin appeared from within one of the cooling orbs of lava on the ground. He was only a few yards from the portal. She flew hard towards her prey. He slipped through the portal as it finally collapsed on itself.

“No!” she yelled. The wurm went limp upon his exit, its body quickly cooling into ash and rock. She kicked the pile of ash the warrior had hid himself within, the sparks mocked her anger. The Captain ran up, not knowing what to say.

“Anyone injured?” she asked. “No milady – the men are checking the tunnel the wurm came from now,” answered the Captain. “Advise them to proceed cautiously; with the portal closed there is no need to rush into a place so easily protected with traps.” The Captain saluted and took his leave.

Before a moment had passed the Captain returned visibly distressed, “Lady Essa, I’ve just received terrible news; Nobleman Eilef is dead.” Essa looked towards the ground and shuddered. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to tie together what her Captain had just told her.

Bellos awaited in the form of a dragon at the portal. The black disc shot off streams of energy as it shrunk. The god of fire was ready for anything to pop through. The assassin tumbled through the doorway just as it shut. Bellos waited until it was fully closed. He returned to the shape of a man and placed his hand on the assassin’s shoulder. “You’re back,” he smiled.

The warrior bowed his head, “Yes father, the Nobleman is dead.” Bellos smiled, “I heard you also managed to get into the tower vault, was it there?” Andin pulled the empty crystal from his jacket and handed it to Bellos. “Well done son, well done indeed.” The pair walked towards the palace in silence.

Chapter Two – The well-worn roads of Beldur

Andin slept well for the first time in weeks, finally free from the mission in Eida. He rose with the sun and sipped coffee while he read. He read a historical account of the Plane of Torment. Portal openings to the hostile planes were rare and calamitous. It was impossible to predict where the yearly portal doorway would open to. Every portal opening was a tenuous time for the civilized planes.

“Garruk the Torturer,” Andin read aloud, the god of the Plane of Torment, a terrible foe who was the unmatched threat to the civilized planes. The door to Torment had opened in Beldur only once; information on the plane was scarce. Bellos entered Andin’s room, “There will be a council meeting at noon.”

“Father did you ever enter the Plane of Torment when the door opened?” asked Andin. Bellos’ boyish face hardened, “We pushed through briefly to see if their portal site was more defensible, we stayed only a day.” He paused, “That was a hard time Andin, every township in Beldur sent warriors, and Beldur lost many of its sons and daughters.”

“Did you face Garruk?” Andin had always been curious about the hostile planes. “Yes, the third day was the crescendo of their assault, Garruk lead the attack personally.” Bellos’ anger seeped into his voice, “I’ve never encountered such a tremendous foe; the sacrifices we made to push his forces back were terrible.”

After the thrill of the mission in Eida, Andin found it hard to take his return to study seriously. Books and sparring would no longer satisfy him. He snapped the textbook shut and headed to the training room to exercise. Drills and spells that were normally challenging felt easy to the fire prince now; he had tasted the empowering ecstasy of survived danger.

He bathed then put on his fitted tunic. The swirling vapors of steam from his coffee held his attention over the droning councilman. A detail obsessed, skittering man was the log keeper for all the critical supplies of Beldur. His meticulous nature made him perfectly suited for the role; but heinously boring to the young prince and his likeminded father.

“Gegin, I truly appreciate your thoroughness; but for the sake of brevity, just summarize our trade with Eida, and tell me, are we set on supplies for the coming winter?” said Bellos with grace. Gegin shuffled his papers to the last sheet, “Oh… I’m sorry milord I’ve done it again haven’t I? Yes, overall the trade went quite well.” Gegin went on, “Our supplies are triply sufficient for our predicted needs through the winter milord.” Bellos smiled and thanked his diligent record keeper.

The normal agenda items had been covered, the council became tense. They had all wondered why Lord Bellos had ordered the portal site cleared before the closing. “Though normally my policy is openness with my decisions; please be patient with me before I reveal the purpose of the portal clearing. As always my desire is for the safety and prosperity of my people – but in this instance discretion is absolutely necessary.” Bellos’ voice was cool and commanding.

“Milord do you have an idea as to when we will be informed of the portal clearing; as well as the likely secret mission to Eida that it implies?” asked Councilman Svoi, the Headmaster of the College of Beldur. Bellos smirked, “Svoi as always your perceptiveness encourages me; unfortunately I cannot know when the time will be right to shed light on the matter.”

Bellos finished, “Though I ask you forgo asking me or Prince Andin further on this subject, I encourage you to continue to piece the puzzle together as best you can.” With that Bellos stood from his chair at the head of the council table and took his leave.

Andin followed close behind, “Father after my visit with the townships I’d like to continue my training outside of the palace.”

“But not back at the college either?” Bellos guessed.

“No, I’d like to train near the Void Scar.”

“Don’t let your success in Eida embolden you; you may go, but Headmaster Svoi or another capable mage will need to accompany you.”

“Yes father,” Andin bowed and left his father’s side. Andin returned to the council chamber. The members of the council were standing in small groups discussing the meeting. Some were relaxed, others spoke fervently. Andin walked to the group with the headmaster and the baroness. “Ah the young prince returns, you know my offer still stands; you could shed this government nonsense and work at the college full time,” said Headmaster Svoi.

“Perhaps a counter offer headmaster; would you like to train with me at the Void Scar?” Andin deeply respected this man. “The invitation is also for you baroness; once I’ve finished visiting the northern townships I will be training there for at least two weeks.”

“How long will your visits to the townships take?” asked Svoi.

“All of autumn; I’ll be at the Void Scar the first two weeks of winter,” replied Andin.

“Plan on my attendance young prince, though I cannot guarantee you the full fourteen days.”

“If things are going well in the eastern townships I will accompany you as well,” answered the baroness.

“Until then,” Andin bowed and left.

“Take care young prince,” said the headmaster. Andin left them. “Do you think he knows anything of the portal clearing?” asked the baroness. “Undoubtedly,” answered Svoi. The council room had cleared out. The headmaster and the baroness stood together alone for a moment. Their hands gently touched.

Andin put a few critical items into his leather satchel and locked his room as he left. He headed to his father’s chamber – he was absent. Andin wrote a short note to his father and exited. Councilman Bostil was the head of Interior Affairs, “Ah Prince Andin, I have your survey route prepared.”

“Hello Councilman Bostil,” Andin took the stack of papers Bostil handed him.

“There are some minor preparatory notes for a few of the townships but nothing critical has been brought to our attention,” noted Bostil as he eyed the map of Beldur. “Have you visited the northern townships before?” Bostil asked.

“Yes, but not on official business,” replied Andin.

“When will you be leaving?” inquired Bostil.

Andin detected a subtle hint that Bostil was seeking something from him. “I’ll be leaving immediately,” Andin couldn’t hide his knowing smile. “Bostil… just ask,” chuckled Andin.

Bostil sighed, “You’ve grown up much too quickly prince!” Bostil was smiling nervously. “It was just that I hoped you might consider taking something with you for the survey.”

“What is it?” asked Andin, curiosity sparked.

“Well I’ve been fiddling with the design of the clockwork cartographers we bought from Pelagos,” Bostil paused. “I think I may have improved it somewhat, and was hoping you would test it for me.” Bostil lifted up the conical gizmo and opened its three legs standing it upright.

“That’s twice as big as the regular ones,” said Andin unexcitedly, who always preferred to travel as light as possible.

“Yes, unfortunately even after filling the empty space beneath the display parchment I simply couldn’t make the modifications any more compact,” regretted Bostil.

“Well what does it do?” asked Andin still curious despite its bulk.

“It has all the same functionality of the normal cartographers; it will display your location relative to major land and astrological features it detects. But – a normal cartographer will not check the position of the plane itself relative to the sun.”

“Wait, are you saying this can tell us where we are in the void?”

Bostil was excited now, “Precisely! This is new territory entirely Prince Andin! Finally a chance to gather real data on where we are in the universe, and just maybe…” the councilman went silent.

“You’re trying to prove your theory aren’t you? That the other planes lie in the same area in the void as our own, Shell Theory right?” Andin had finally realized the full picture of Bostil’s scheme.

“Yes, but I need your help, the edges of the plane are dangerous, and more importantly fire magic alone is too imprecise to operate the device accurately. Ideally it needs light magic, but your earth and fire combined should work.”

Andin raised his eyebrow, “Weren’t these things built to use water magic?”

“Technically yes, but I believe light magic would be a superior choice; you will still be able to operate the device, at least enough to make some important measurements.” Bostil’s excitement wouldn’t be tempered.

Bostil reviewed the operation of the clockwork cartographer with Andin. Though the device itself was complex, running it was straightforward. Andin cut off the zealous councilman once he realized his lesson had turned into a lecture on the mechanics behind his near-planar Shell Theory. He said his goodbyes to Bostil and headed to the palace entrance.

“Oh I’ve missed you,” lust slipped into Andin’s voice. He grabbed the fabric covering his love and ripped it off. The smooth curves of his steamcycle were as elegant as he had remembered them. He checked the water and oil levels, both were carefully topped off.

“That should do it,” Andin wiped his hands clean, his motor bike was ready for the journey. He gripped the heat exchanger with his right hand and began heating the water.

Soon the boiler held enough pressure to drive the pistons. The rear wheel bit into the dirt and snow and Andin set off. The fire prince steamed through Caldvik and into the countryside. The rolling terrain was stabbed with craggy thrusts of volcanic activity. In Beldur the snow always fell and the lava always flowed. Andin was quickly in the open countryside.

For the next three months he would live on the road, hopping from town to town. The townships were largely autonomous, but the palace and council were active in their pursuit of successful governance. Each township was visited by an official at least twice a year; often more.

Andin’s hand grew hotter as he increased his speed. Steam exhaled out of the exhaust in a long white tail as the bike flew down the roads. The bike was limited only by the strength of its operator. The demand of a long ride was great even for an accomplished fire practitioner. Andin rode hard.

Chapter Three – Why we fear the void

Like the other planes, The Plane of Fire was a massive cone of earth and rock. It floated through the void like a ship in a foggy sea. Beldur was roughly circular save for the Void Scar, the bottomless chasm that dominated the eastern half of the plane. It neatly divided the northern quarter from the eastern. At its widest, the plane was just shy of five hundred miles across. The purple black of the void extended endlessly at the edges of the plane.

Prince Andin passed through a handful of southern townships as he headed northerly towards the end of the Void Scar. His work would start in earnest beyond the chasm. When needed the prince would stop to melt snow for his reservoir. His only comfort was the small brewing set he had brought with him. He cherished his coffee.

**

Andin holed up in an otherwise vacant inn just south of the Void Scar. The old woman who kept the inn standing brought the prince some tea, “My dear prince, I was so joyed when I heard of your birth twenty years ago.” Andin took the cookies and tea, “Oh – thank you madam.”

“There was emptiness in all our hearts when Lord Bellos stopped having children.” Andin began to feel uncomfortable.

“I understand it must be hard for a parent to outlive their children; but I remember meeting Princess Anni seventy years ago, such a wonderful girl.” The old woman was in unstoppable reminisce mode. Andin said nothing thinking, this woman probably hasn’t talked to anyone in a while, just drink your tea and let her talk.

“It was just a year after the portal opened to the Plane of Torment, those were hard times. I think everyone lost a loved one to that horrible place. My brother had to stay in the hospital at Caldvik. I went to visit him during the fall, hoping he would finally be well enough to come home. There she was, little angel, maybe just sixteen at the time, visiting the wounded soldiers.”

Her eyes wetted in sincere admiration, “My brother said she visited every weekend, bringing sweets and coffee. She found me with my brother and asked, are you here visiting this soldier? I was awestruck and could only nod a nervous yes. She thanked me for service to the Nation of Beldur. She thanked me! Such a kind hearted girl… she was so beautiful, just like her mother.” The innkeeper went silent as her eyes wandered around the room.

“Milord could you tell me who your mother is? I only ever heard of your birth, not of your mother.”

Andin said nothing; the prince didn’t know.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I meant no offense,” she stammered.

The old woman took the tray back to the kitchen to escape the tense moment. “Shall I bring more cookies?” she asked returning to her role of dutiful innkeeper. Andin hadn’t eaten any of the first dozen she had brought for him. “No thank you,” he replied. He left the common area for his cozy bedroom.

In the morning Andin thanked and overpaid his host. He left to the sounds of her thankful protest at the amount he had given her. His right hand burned brightly as he heated the boiler of the steamcycle. The Void Scar was only a short ride away from the small hamlet the inn rested in. Andin rode towards the bottomless canyon.

He brewed his morning coffee on the edge of the scar; the jagged cliff face was home to many beasts, some more dangerous than others. The urge to train was irresistible. Andin left his coffee behind and began running along the length of the chasm. The gap widened steadily as Andin hurdled himself across the canyon in increasingly violent bursts of fire.

Only a few minutes into his mad sprint Andin’s heart was pounding. The Void Scar continued to widen, forcing more and more effort from each of Andin’s magically assisted leaps. Midair the fire prince realized he wasn’t going to clear the gap. He pulled a platform of stone out of the cliff face. He landed with such force it shattered instantly. Still falling he pulled another platform of stone out of the wall. This time it held.

Lying on his back he laughed between gulps of oxygen. Air had returned to his lungs and Andin sat up on his platform. The vastness of the Void Scar was breathtaking. A hot-gas filled Bottor Jelly drifted by lazily, its thin poisonous tentacles hoping to snag an unsuspecting bird. Something strange shifted in the distance. Andin couldn’t make it out but he was certain he saw a black blur plummet down into the void. This is why people fear the void, thought Andin.

In a pop of fire he scaled the cliff face in two bounds. Jogging back to the steamcycle Andin had overtaken the floating Bottor Jelly. The squishy creature rippled as Andin landed on top of its massive girth. “You shall be my royal chariot! Pick up the pace you slag!” shouted Andin in a brief period of madness.

The unseen void nester slammed the prince into the cliff face. Andin was in free fall. He slowed his descent with a stream of fire and pulled another stone platform out of the cliff face. His lava sickles poured into his hands instinctively as Andin turned to face his enemy. The four winged beast was mid dive headed straight for the prince. Its mouth stretched wide as it shot black fluid at Andin.

Andin parried with a wall of flame but the poison penetrated through. It blinded him. He guessed at the direction of the cliff face and dove towards it hoping to the dodge the beast. The nester missed its target and Andin regained some of his vision. The nester climbed for another diving attack. Andin was ready.

He lined up his target and sent a sickle spinning. The red hot blade cut a wingtip clean off the beast. It rolled in the air to correct itself, still pointed at Andin. Andin dropped his second sickle and with great effort pulled two massive columns of stone from both cliff faces. His timing was perfect, the two cylinders of rock met with the void nester between them. The fervor of battle turned to silence.

Andin collapsed from the strain. The nester’s one free wing twitched between the two stone faces he had flattened the creature with. Andin recovered from the weight of the spell and moved the stone back into the cliff. The nester fell dead into the void. Andin climbed back to the surface and left feeling solemn.

He contemplated the ferociously aggressive nester as he sipped his coffee. Why was it hunting this far west?, he thought. The Void Scar now filled Andin with unease. He realized how serious training here would be. He dumped his coffee. Lingering alone was unsafe.

The steady whine of his steamcycle calmed Andin. The next township was a fifty mile ride from the chasm; he had time to think. Before the nester’s attack, Andin felt untouchable; still riding the high from his success in Eida. Never underestimate the opponent, Andin reminded himself of his father’s last words of advice before he left for his mission to the Plane of Light.

The remainder of the ride he pieced his ego together, quietly absorbed in the rhythmic noise of the steamcycle’s pistons. The Plane of Fire was a fiercely beautiful place. A frigid landscape generously studded with volcanism. The unforgiving environment kept Beldur’s population smaller relative to the other civil planes, but the fire-hearts made up for it with their tenacity in battle and ambitious spirit.

Bellos, god of fire lead the people of Beldur. He did his best to empower his people; almost all of the governing decisions were made by the council, not him. Often during the fall and winter Bellos would retreat north to his private chateau. In the springtime he would return to oversee the preparations for the portal opening.

Even Andin knew little of his father’s work up north. He suspected it was related to his mission. Andin was not one to pry into his father’s business. If Bellos wanted him to know something, he would tell him. Andin’s faith in his father was unshakeable. The township Brettari was the first on his list of the northern quarter.

Andin put the troubling incident at the Void Scar behind him and reviewed the short set of notes Councilman Bostil had prepared for him. Brettari was a typical Beldurian township; a small village situated near some form of stable volcanic activity. He pulled his steamcycle up to the inn. The innkeeper greeted the prince warmly and showed Andin the two rooms he could choose from.

Most of the townspeople were out working the greenhouses or hunting, Andin would have to wait until sunset to talk with the three Mentors who served as leaders of the village. Talking with the innkeeper Andin updated the records of the township. He would confirm these changes with the Mentors and spend a week with the township to get accurate data on their current status.

Often a township would be deficient in one or two critical supplies and have a surplus of other goods. Andin would help facilitate the flow of large quantities of goods to the townships based on need. He also oversaw the education of the village’s youth – the statistics of each village’s performance at the College was closely tracked.

After a week had passed Andin left Brettari. His meetings with the Mentors had gone well; their academic curriculum was excellent; and the township’s storehouses needed little. Andin enjoyed the hospitality as much as he enjoyed the open road. He filled the bike’s reservoir with fresh snowmelt and thundered out of town.

Andin continued this cycle for the next few weeks. After stopping at the northernmost township he took a brief trip to the northernmost point of Beldur. The edge of the plane was an eerie place with nothing but the void and a few rogue wisps of cloud in the infinite distance.

He withdrew Bostil’s large clockwork cartographer from his bag and set it as close to the edge of the plane as he felt comfortable doing. Like many magical items the cartographer had a small glass prism which served as an input for energy. Andin operated the cartographer with magic, a small stream of fire from his index finger mixed with soil from his thumb.

The small dose of energy set the prism glowing. The large cartographer whirred and clicked as gears turned and small points of light jumped through the system. The inverted cone’s surface served as the display, and the easily recognizable outline of Beldur drew itself on magical parchment. The cartographer began to zoom out as Beldur shrunk more and more.

Beldur was just a small circle when another speck appeared on the edge of the parchment. The cartographer ran out of energy and shut off. Andin saw the speck, “I’ll be damned.” He ran the cartographer again and again, each time trying to add just a bit more energy. The speck continued to materialize. Could that be another plane? Andin thought to himself.

Chapter Four – Solstice sessions at the bottomless canyon

Civic duty complete, Andin returned to the Void Scar. If his companions were on schedule they would join him the next day. Two weeks of training justified something more lavish than a journeyman’s tent. Andin found a small thermal vent and lifted a large square slab from the ground to serve as foundation. Block by block Andin cut and placed tessellating stones into position.

The constantly shifting and elaborate architecture of Kato, Plane of Earth was a famous wonder among the elemental planes. Andin had become quite adept at creating stone structures from his studies there. With some time and effort the small building was finished. The thermal vent fed into a stone pool so the weary trio could relax in comfort.

Creating the building was tiring even for the prince. He napped inside its walls before using the remainder of the day to furnish what he could with the natural resources of Beldur. Content that Svoi and the baroness would be pleasantly surprised, Andin prepared to turn in. He braved the darkness and lit the beacon above the stone house.

Andin was lying on something sharp; he kept trying to shift his body to avoid the object. He snapped awake. “Good morning prince,” said the baroness holding her glaive at Andin’s side.

Andin smiled, “You got me Aura.”

She removed her weapon and laughed, “Wouldn’t be the first time.” The two had been rivals at the College.

“Let’s get to work,” Headmaster Svoi had also slipped in unnoticed. Andin and Aura looked in surprise.

“Always so businesslike headmaster,” teased Andin as he dressed himself.

“I still consider you my pupil – and my biggest headache,” answered Svoi.

“When did Aura get upgraded?” protested Andin. The baroness had already found a corner for her small bag of things. Svoi dropped his bags at the edge of the door.

The three headed outside, Svoi and Aura’s horses dug through the snow seeking rich tufts of moss. “One day you’ll learn to love steam power,” remarked Andin. They walked under the morning sun to the chasm. “I was attacked by a void nester here twelve weeks ago,” stated Andin dryly.

“Unusual,” remarked Svoi. Svoi dropped his winter overcoat, revealing his large frame. “As always I insist we start with the basics,” he said. The blade of his glaive became red hot. Aura lit her glaive as Andin conjured his sickles. Svoi walked alongside the scar until the width was a challenging distance. “We’ll start with just one,” said Svoi as a ball of flame materialized in his hands.

With a pop of flame Svoi launched himself across the gap. Midair he turned and sent the ball careening towards the baroness. She gracefully sidestepped the ball and smashed it with the tip of her glaive. It returned to Svoi who had landed on the opposite side. The baroness chased after Svoi as he redirected the ball towards Andin.

He connected with his right sickle smashing the orb towards Svoi. The headmaster twirled his glaive gracefully into the fireball midair. The flourish was a feint; Svoi hit the ball with the base of his pole-arm aiming behind him towards the baroness. She was caught off guard as the ball careened towards her. She dove to dodge it as the ball burst into the snow.

“Nice hit,” acknowledged Aura. “You’ll find in the coming days I still have much more fight in me than you’ve seen,” replied Svoi. Aura conjured the next ball and the sparring match went on. The trio continued to up the ante as more fireballs were added and the gap they used grew wider.

Walking back in the sunset the three couldn’t speak from their exhaustion. A Bottor Jelly momentarily eclipsed the sun. They reached the stone house in silence. They removed their sweaty, singed tunics and entered the warm pool. Andin brought the kettle next to the hot spring and began making tea.

Andin passed the cups of tea to his friends, “I’m glad you both could make it; Svoi how long will you be able to stay?”

Svoi took a sip of his tea before answering, “Ten days.”

Andin looked to Aura. “Eleven,” she said.

“You have improved Andin; tomorrow let’s work on just your earth magic,” said Svoi.

The trio drank their tea in silence. Svoi and Aura left the pool to prepare the meal. Andin continued sipping his tea. Svoi brought out a harmonic choir from his bag and energized its crystal. The soft music filled the stone house. Not much was said between the three; they had worked together like this many times at the College.

They trained as much as they could as the days passed by. Svoi and Aura were becoming increasingly exhausted from the endeavor and by the eighth day needed to rest. “Prince Andin you are a powerful spell caster,” complimented Svoi.

“Thank you headmaster, I’ve been continuing my training with my father,” noted Andin.

“A privilege only a few can claim,” said Svoi. He continued, “Lord Bellos is notoriously selective with whom he practices magic.”

“It’s not elitism though,” said Andin. “I think father prefers training alone, so when he does use a partner he opts for the most challenging partners to train with.”

Aura chimed in, “Or that the experimental magics he loves so much are notoriously dangerous…”

The two men looked at her. Svoi laughed, “Poignant and enlightening as always baroness.” Aura smiled, so did Andin. “Do you know what your father is working on now?” asked Svoi.

Andin shrugged, “I’ve been given a glimpse of a sliver of the bigger picture.”

This was Svoi’s chance; Andin’s guard was only down when he was preoccupied with his own lack of understanding. “So what did you get from the tower vault in Eida?” asked Svoi point blank.

“Well that was just secondary to…” Andin caught himself. He glared at Svoi, “Cunning devil.” Andin paused, “Headmaster you know I feel you should be made aware of such matters, but until my father deems it necessary I cannot tell you anymore.”

“I figured as much,” said Svoi, “I do rather enjoy deciphering the scraps I’m able to pick up along the way.” Svoi’s face was a half-smile; Bellos’ secretive nature had been a constant frustration for the headmaster. Svoi preferred openness and transparency in the leadership process. A method he used to great success at the College.

On the ninth day they set out early. They headed far east along the ridge of the Void Scar. It was past midday before they stopped. Today they would hunt near a corrupted piece of the scar. When the old gods sacrificed themselves to destroy Odium the world was sundered. In some places his vile influence yet remained.

The beasts there were ferocious and violent. Normally docile creatures became twisted savages who attacked the trio. They took turns slaying the monsters and made sure to burn their corpses after they were killed.

Nestled on the opposite cliff face was a pack of corrupted void nesters. “They don’t know we’re here yet,” stated Aura. Svoi nodded, “Even so, corrupted nesters will be a tremendous challenge – in packs they are particularly deadly.”

Andin cautioned his friends, “If they are like the one that attacked me we’ll need to work together.”

“If we wish to survive it will be paramount to do so,” said Svoi gravely. The corrupted region needed to be cleared as soon as possible. After ten minutes of planning they were ready. Andin would cross the chasm while Svoi and Aura pummeled the nest from the opposite side.

The goal was to draw the nesters as far from the canyon as possible. “We’re ready,” said Aura with hunger in her voice. This would be her first nester kill, an achievement for any Beldurian. Aura and Svoi conjured a massive wall of fire bolts in tandem. Andin leapt across the cliff. The nesters scattered and dove from the cliff side.

The wall of bolts slammed into the flighting beasts and one was killed immediately. Three remained as Andin launched himself back across the gap. The nesters split to pursue their foes from wider angles. The trio retreated from the cliff edge to fight in the open. “One at a time now!” commanded Svoi.

Blinding streams of black fluid belched from the nesters into the trio; Svoi was blinded. He stopped to clear his vision. Aura readied her glaive and hurled it towards the first diving nester. She struck it dead in the heart as it dropped limply to the ground. The second and third nester slammed into Andin and Aura.

Andin’s arm was cut deeply but he maintained his composure in the chaos of the collision. The nester flapped its wings hard to regain speed but Andin caught it before it could climb. He swung his sickles and severed two wings. Svoi was back in the fight and twirled his glaive in an arc sending a spinning crescent of fire into the second nester. It struck the monster’s legs burning them off.

“Good work! Andin leave yours alive, Aura let’s finish this devil!” shouted Svoi. Aura had anticipated Svoi and was already with him sprinting under the legless nester. They shot two final fireballs into the crippled beast and it crashed into the snow. Andin watched his friends skillfully dispatch the enemy and smiled at the assured victory.

Andin’s wounded nester lunged at him. He rolled back and instinctively raised a cage of stone around the bird. It was pinned to the ground. He pulled another arch of stone around its head to prevent more blinding fluid from being excreted. The nester struggled against the restraints, but the fight was over.

Svoi wiped what he could off his face. “Well done you two,” he complimented his friends.

“I’ll bring you some goggles next time,” smirked Aura. Andin laughed in agreement. They gathered around Andin’s pinned nester. “It’s hideous,” commented Aura.

“The corruption of hatred has no care for aesthetics,” stated Svoi.

Svoi knelt next to the beast’s head to examine it. He removed a small prismatic tool from his tunic. He energized it and scanned the beast. He spent some time inspecting its strangely patterned eye. Once satisfied, Svoi handed his glaive to Aura, “Baroness.”

She looked back to her glaive still embedded in the chest of the other nester; she suddenly felt exposed without a weapon. The last of the twisted creatures went limp as the blade of the glaive burned through the heart of the monster. “The one that attacked me must have come from this nest,” said Andin.

They harvested the claws and fluid sacs of the three nesters and burned them. “Amazing creatures,” commented Svoi as he examined the sacs closely. “Professor Bressil will be glad to have more samples of the void nester for his catalogue,” said Svoi. Aura took one of the claws as a keepsake and the three headed back to the stone cottage.

Aurora and stars lit the way back to camp. The soft purple glow of the void danced and played with the light display in the night sky. The walk was a long march of quiet reflection. The trio didn’t reach the campsite until past midnight. They changed out of their filthy clothing and fell fast asleep.

No one woke until late morning. Andin was the first up; he made coffee. The aroma slowly reeled Svoi awake. “She probably won’t be up till noon; she’s been pushing herself so hard,” whispered Svoi. “She’s always been a fighter,” replied Andin; the two headed outside. They said nothing as the coffee sent fingers of steam to explore the world above the cup.

Svoi broke the silence, “You feel it too don’t you?”

Andin understood, “Yes – I feel it at the portal site almost always, whether it’s open or not.”

Svoi’s tone turned sharp and precise, “Andin – this is something different, this isn’t a greedy planar god, or even a well-organized hostile plane.” Andin’s eyes narrowed. Svoi continued, “Be careful; and be careful who you trust, especially the other gods.”

Aura broke the somber mood. She poked her head outside the door, “I’m going to finish off the coffee, should I make another pot?” A bold party of snowflakes landed in her hair. Andin spoke cheerily, “The more the better.” Aura disappeared back into the stone cottage. Andin returned inside. Svoi lingered.

Svoi left at noon. He rode back to the College to resume his duties as headmaster. Andin was ready to train more but knew Aura needed the rest. They spent the rest of the day packing up and drinking tea. There wasn’t much to pack. They talked about the College and the district she was in charge of. Aura asked about the mission to the Plane of Light. Andin could say nothing; he was too loyal to his father.

Eleven days after the solstice Aura left. Andin was alone again but felt refreshed and recharged. He would spend the rest of the winter training and studying at the College and at the palace in Caldvik. He dismantled the stone house and rode south towards the capital.

Chapter Five – The portal’s imminent reopening

The portal would open on the summer solstice. In Beldur preparations began slowly during the spring equinox, ramping up as the summer approached. The portal always appeared at the same place. Where it would lead each year was the great mystery.

The Riddari, the elite warriors of Beldur’s military were in charge of the portal defenses. Though it was rare for the portal to bridge to a hostile plane – history had shown it to be inevitable. At times the Riddari’s zeal was inconvenient; the merchants, academics, and diplomats all understood the necessity of their work.

Andin spent his spring at the College training with the staff and teaching an introductory class for alternative elemental use. Citizens of a plane always practiced the magic of their native land, it was necessary for their survival – and a strong driver of solidarity.

Choosing your second element was the impossible student’s decision; the human spirit can only devote itself fully to two elements. Andin’s introductory class helped his younger students explore the basic spells and traits of each element. Such a decision was never taken lightly and often many students graduated with no alternate element chosen.

His skittish students shuffled in. They were first years and had never seen the prince before. They arranged themselves neatly at their desks. The overflow stood at the back. “Hello I am Prince Andin – this is Introduction to Alternative magics block A.”

Andin scanned the crowded classroom. “If you’re not on my roster…” Andin summoned one of his sickles with as much violence as he could manage, “Get out.” Half of the classroom vanished. Andin shut the door behind a giggling little girl running to her actual class.

“Once again, welcome; by the end of this semester each of you will be able to cast a basic manipulative spell of each of the elements – or you’ll fail the class.” Andin enjoyed scaring his students the first few days, it made the rest of the semester go much more smoothly. “Life, death, light, fire, water, wind, lightning, and earth; those are the eight primary elements – seven of which we can use in practice.”

Andin continued, “Does anyone know which we cannot use and why?” An eager student raised his hand. “Go ahead,” Andin looked to him. “Life magic sir, because only the three first gods together could truly use life magic,” said the young boy. “Correct,” said Andin.

He continued the lecture explaining the course schedule and the testing standards. He concluded the class with a simple demonstration of the first element they would be learning, light. His classroom emptied and refilled twice more.

After his morning lessons were over Andin headed to professor Nikka’s office to continue his own practice of earth magic. His research with Svoi and the rest of the staff was not as physically rigorous as the hands-on training at the Void Scar – but much more thought provoking.

The purpose of the College was twofold; educate the youth and explore and study the magical sciences. Under the leadership of Headmaster Svoi, the College consistently stood at the forefront of magical learning in the civilized planes.

As the semester ticked on Andin and his student’s abilities continued to increase. He had taken his class outdoors to practice a basic lightning manipulation. Andin addressed his class, “As lightning discharges from one Vangraph device to the other you will pull a small fragment into your hand, control the ball for twenty seconds, and then throw it into the target here.” Andin raised a square of stone target out of the earth.

Many of his students were mildly electrocuted. Lightning magic, though powerful, was tricky to control. After failing his second attempt, one of Andin’s students became visibly frustrated. “Remember, you cannot muscle it into submission – you have to react to it; feel where it wants to jump to.” The boy didn’t want to fail in front of the prince; he returned to the line and refocused.

The nine day spring recess gave Andin a chance to return to Caldvik. The ride from the College to the capital was particularly beautiful – Andin’s steamcycle ate through the miles. His father had returned earlier to oversee the portal site. Andin headed there first, “Hello father,” Andin smiled.

“The prodigal son returns, how are your little first years?” asked Bellos.

“The future of Beldur is in good hands,” stated Andin proudly. Bellos face twitched for just a moment, revealing his concern for the future. Andin picked up on it but continued the conversation, “How are preparations going?”

The pair began walking around the defensive structures circling the portal site. “Quite good this year – Baron Breer is overseeing the Riddari’s work.”

Andin gripped the hard steel of one of the ballistae, “No steam launchers?” His question was joking, while developing his steamcycle Andin and Councilman Bostil created a powerful yet comically unwieldy weapon they dubbed the Steam-Demon.

Bellos laughed, “Had I known you wished for Beldur’s downfall I would have tossed you into the void myself.”

The three batteries of ballistae were positioned precisely in an arc around the portal. The artillery would batter the portal while the infantry mopped up any stragglers. Each layer of the defenses had a secondary and tertiary backup for extra measure. “Have they been calibrated and aligned?” Bellos asked the baron who had now joined their party.

“Batteries one and two are prepared Lord Bellos; the third will be calibrated after the black-steel barricades are installed around the portal,” answered the baron.

“Do you have an earth user helping you anchor the barricades?” asked Andin.

“We have a few Prince Andin, but would be grateful for any assistance,” answered the baron.

Andin nodded and left the group to help anchor the portable walls which would be used to funnel any enemies into a deadly crossfire. “Council meeting at four this afternoon son,” shouted Bellos.

“Yes father,” Andin acknowledged. He descended the slope of earth ringing the portal and began helping the Riddari.

The barricades were made from the famous Beldurian black-steel, an invention of Bellos and Svoi’s great grandfather. The metallurgy of Beldur knew no rival; the lightning wielding Drojja could create stronger alloys, but nothing as enduring as black-steel.

When the portal opened to other civilized planes, the black-steel was an invaluable trading commodity for Beldur. Andin thought of its marvel as he cleared shafts into the ground with the other mage. The work went by quickly with two earth users, especially one as skilled as Andin. Soon the barricades were positioned and anchored correctly.

Andin left the portal site to unpack the few belongings he had brought from the College to his room in the palace. He relaxed on his bed waiting for the council meeting. Soon enough his chronometer whirred whimsically indicating it was ten minutes to four. He closed his book and headed to the council chamber.

Lord Bellos was skimming the report summaries from the four quarters. Most of the other council members had already arrived. Svoi stood next to Bellos taking notes on the fire god’s recommendations.

Andin patted the pair on their shoulders, “Headmaster if I knew you were coming to Caldvik I would have suggested we travel together.”

Svoi looked back at Andin, “I left much later than you did; besides my old pony would only slow you down.”

Andin went over to Councilman Bostil, “Did you examine the cartographer data yet?”

Bostil’s face lit up, “Prince Andin! I’ve run the calculations countless times, unless there was some unknown interference I’m certain that the object picked up on the cartographer was indeed another landmass – maybe a fully-fledged plane.”

“Why haven’t we seen this sort of thing before?” asked Andin.

“I couldn’t say, but I did manage to get the Riddari to lend me two of their knights to accompany me for more tests,” answered Bostil with even more excitement in his voice.

Andin was intrigued, “What did you find?”

Bostil hushed himself, “The data would have been even more convincing if I had managed to collect from the same site as you; unfortunately I only had the Riddari escort for a week.” Bostil continued, “I broke the cartographer using only fire magic, but I brought also an resonance-sensor.”

Andin looked confused, “A what?”

Bostil explained, “It’s the device we use in wild planes to find crystals suitable to become energy prisms, it’s horribly imprecise but with some clever modifications its detection range can be greatly increased.” Bostil looked around the council chamber, “I picked up a faint signal, one coming from the same direction as the object you detected – Andin the data is beginning to support my hypothesis.”

“Let’s begin shall we?” ordered Lord Bellos. Andin’s conversation was cut short; he took his seat at his father’s side. Lord Bellos began covering the various discussion points quickly; often making recommendations, never ordering changes directly.

Andin sensed a subtle feeling of apprehension in the council. The same creeping dread Bellos, Andin, and Svoi had felt near the portal was now palpable to the rest of the council. No one wished to discuss it, the time before the portal opening was always one of high tension. It was critical to maintain a level head, as fear poisons the mind.

After the meeting Andin and Svoi followed Lord Bellos to his chamber. “Father – the dark feeling near the portal, it’s getting stronger; I can sometimes feel it from the College,” said Andin.

“I know son, Svoi and I have discussed this as well, but until we know what forces are moving in the shadows we cannot respond irrationally,” Bellos knew what to say to calm his son.

Svoi chimed in, “Milord let us help you – together the three of us could challenge any foe…”

Bellos cut him off, “This isn’t just any foe Svoi, this is something sinister, something hidden, something none of us can yet comprehend – we must temper ourselves to prepare for the coming storm.”

Svoi bowed deeply, “Of course milord.” Andin bowed as well and left Bellos’ chamber.

“Son,” said Bellos. Andin stopped and returned to his father’s chamber.

“Yes father?” Andin asked.

“I had another dream,” said Bellos distressingly. Andin steeled himself. Bellos pulled something from his tunic, “Prepare yourself, we may get lucky with this next portal opening.”

He gave the object to his son. It was the same crystal he had stolen from the Plane of Light. It was still as dull as when he stole it, but with a new unusual weightlessness to it. “What does this do?” asked Andin.

“We’ll need the portal open to be sure,” answered Bellos.

Chapter Six – Tragedy aboard the Greatship Bitter Chain

Lady Pria stood amidships as the flagship of the Pelagic Navy was docked and made ready for repairs. The boom of the mainsail was to be replaced. With two other sailors she sent a steady stream of sea water through the wheels powering the crane. The old splintered boom descended to the deck. As with all operations Lady Pria was involved in, this one was going smoothly.

Pria’s rise through the ranks was nothing short of meteoric. Her devotion to the Navy was second only to her devotion to the Brothers, the gods of Pelagos, the Plane of Water. She was the youngest ever to become executive officer of the flagship.

“Once the boom is off decks have the salvage crew see if any use can be made of it,” she ordered. One of her sailors acknowledged and sent a runner to the salvage team to relay the message. The new boom was already waiting on the docks to be brought into service.

The new boom would still need to be furnished for use on the ship. Pria looked at the long list of repairs that needed to be done. The seas of Pelagos were harsh. The weather was bad, the pirates were worse. Battle scars from nearly a year’s worth of squalls, sea monsters, and marauders were methodically stripped and replaced plank by plank, nail by nail.

The Brothers emerged from their cabin aboard the flagship and waved to Pria. She joined the small entourage as they disembarked and headed towards the portal site. The portal would open in three weeks; and after almost a thousand years of portal openings the immortal gods of the elemental planes had learned one invaluable lesson – be prepared.

Qin, the older and more grave of the two was in charge of the primary defenses at the portal. He was the head of the Pelagic Marine force. Lin led the marine’s counterpart, the Oceanic Magi. The permanent defense structures erected around the portal site needed only modest refurbishing.

The ramparts were designed only to delay an invasion; the real defensive line was the fully assembled naval fleet moored around the island. The fleet would simply draw anchor and bombard the overrun island from afar.

**

The night before the portal opening the harbor was buzzing with discussion. Money, rum, and ale exchanged hands as the sailors placed bets and traded stories of past portal openings. Pria was no fan of the gambling but it was impossible to resist speculating about the portal. When the doorway opened to the Plane of Rage five years ago Pria had just been promoted to Lieutenant.

She witnessed the flood of the Rage Fiends from the deck of her ship. They looked to her like red ants from the safety of the harbor. The Brothers, with the help of the marines and the magi defended the island until it could be fully evacuated. Many lives were lost, but the bravery shown that day saved countless more.

For ninety days the Pelagic fleet laid waste to the infested island. Their numbers were endless, but their blinding and ceaseless anger made them easy targets from afar. The creatures could swim, but poorly. The terrain of Pelagos gave the fleet an impossibly good advantage.

Pria could still see the gnashing, howling creatures swimming towards her ship in her mind. She could never sleep before the portal opening since then. It didn’t matter; the noise from below decks and on shore would have kept her up anyway. No one slept the night before.

The portal would open at noon. There was no way to know where it would lead. The sun marched resolutely to its pinnacle. A tiny black speck appeared. A crackle, a pop, and the speck spun into a small disc. The wind swirled and lightning sparked as the black disc widened and widened. The spectacle crescendoed with a brilliant burst of prismatic energy. The portal was open.

This was the height of the suspense – if an attack was coming, it would happen now. The marines gripped their rapiers tightly and their bucklers tighter. The Brothers white knuckled their tridents. The portal was silent. Its rippling opaque black surface offered no clues. After a minute much of the tension was gone.

“Prepare the envoy,” ordered Qin. Twenty of his best marines formed ranks behind him. Qin and Lin would cross through first. The pair walked to the portal to examine its surface. Neither light nor sound could pass through the doorway; only stepping through could reveal its destination.

The Brothers made the crossing as they had done for hundreds of years, year after year. The terrain they stood upon was foreign to them. Lin was highly knowledgeable of the known planes – this was not one of them. “A new plane, I think,” he said to his Brother.

Qin scanned the land around them, “All the more reason to be cautious.” Qin turned to the single marine who stood halfway through the portal awaiting orders. The marine saluted and the first wave of men crossed into the unknown world. Portable barricades were brought through the portal into the empty flat of the new plane.

“Sir, the barricades are in place,” reported the senior marine.

Qin bent over to match the height of the marine, “Good, inform the dispatch that the doorway has opened to a new plane – you may bring the regiment in to fortify the perimeter; when the defensive line is strong you may bring the magi in to begin studying this place.” The marine saluted and left.

“Brother, this place is odd,” said Lin as black sand poured from his hand.

“It feels… hollow,” replied Qin. Before them was a desolate expanse of black sand – flat and endless. Oddly shaped, leafless trees dotted the landscape and in the distance was a small hill of the same sand.

Lin walked to the nearest tree to snap off a branch. “Lifeless, hollow, and black sand everywhere,” stated Lin aloud. The branch melted into the same black sand Lin stood on, the rest of the tree followed suit, dissolving into the ground.

Qin looked at his surprised brother, “Black sand everywhere.”

**

The doorway to the strange plane had been open for two weeks. The major work on the flagship was finished save for the new boom. The woodworkers had finished furnishing it for installation. The deckhands hooked the boom up to the crane. Pria and another officer sent powerful streams of water from the sea through the paddle wheels. The wheels turned the gears turning the winch. The line went taut and the boom rose.

The Brothers were back investigating the new plane. Lin’s mages continued to study samples of the black sand while Qin’s marines surveyed the landscape. The plane was unsettlingly empty. The portal apparently had opened to the most unremarkable plane ever discovered.

“How far did your scouts go?” asked Lin. The Brothers stood over the piece of parchment that was to become the master map of the new plane. Qin sighed, “Fifty miles in each direction.” The map bore only two markings, the portal site and the small hill.

“We’d make better use of our time trying to map the waves,” grumbled Lin. Qin shrugged; he looked up towards the portal. It flickered. Qin asked “Did you see that?” Eyes wide with terror Qin grabbed his brother and began running towards the portal. “It’s closing!” Qin shouted at the camp around the portal. “Get to the other side now!”

The marines and magi looked confused at first; then the portal began heaving violently. This was all the confirmation they needed; they sprinted towards the doorway to Pelagos. “Get back to Pelagos the portal is shutting!” yelled Qin at his marines still littered around the edges of the camp. It was too late. The portal collapsed.

In Pelagos the portal contracted and then disappeared. Admiral Moro could see the streaks of energy shooting from the portal from the bow of the greatship. “Oh no,” he said to himself. He ran towards the gangplank connecting the ship to the docks. The portal collapsed.

Pria heard the implosion and turned towards the portal site, it was vacant. A new portal burst open, replacing the old one. The blast sent a shockwave through the harbor. Pria and her crew were knocked down by the force. Screams emanated from the portal site. “Marines get to the portal site now!” Pria ordered.

Rage Fiends poured from the new portal. Hundreds crossed through in a surging wave before the new portal imploded as quickly as it had appeared. The doorway shut and the Rage Fiends hacked through the small company standing watch at the portal site.

Pria sprinted the half mile to the site with her marines. “Form ranks here!” she yelled. Reinforcements from the other ships trickled in as the news of invasion spread. The Rage Fiends reached their hodgepodge formation. The first line of marines crumbled to the demons. They swung their rusted bastard swords wildly.

Their attacks were frenzied and uncoordinated. “Draw them in and focus your efforts on one at a time,” Pria commanded with authority. The light rapiers of the marines could hardly pierce the thick leathery skin of the fiends. More reinforcements from the docks arrived.

“Lady Pria, my men will secure the right flank; the magi are assembling now,” shouted a marine officer as he ran off with his company to the right edge of the portal site. Pria conjured a large sphere of water and used it as a shield, hurling back any of the demons who broke through the line. The magic was exhausting.

Another company of marines arrived with the magi, the reinforcing company went left and the battle was now contained to the portal site. The magi arrived leaving a thin string of mages leading towards the water’s edge. The mages began funneling seawater towards the battlefield.

The line of water reached Pria’s forces. “Open fire!” she shouted to the mages. The water coiled up over the marines. The mages sent torrents of water into the Rage Fiends. Demon after demon was smashed by the deluge. The marines advanced, slitting the throats of the downed monsters.

The warriors of Pelagos continued until the portal site was cleared of the enemy. Squads of marines dispersed into the island to hunt the few stragglers. Pria led her warriors despite the taxing effort of battle, “Gather the wounded; set up the triage back at the docks.”

“Find Admiral Moro, we need to set up defenses in case the portal reopens,” Pria saw the panicked runner coming from the docks.

“Lady Pria! Lady Pria!” he shouted.

“What is it?” she asked, seeing the despair in his face.

“Admiral Moro madam… he’s dead, he was crushed by a fallen boom when the portal exploded,” gasped the runner.

Pria’s eyes lost focus. The commanding confidence in her voice dissolved, “What have I done?” She sat down. Guilt overwhelmed her. She had killed her greatest mentor.

Chapter Seven – A doorway to death

The Riddari stood steel-eyed as the portal disc widened. Andin stood aside Bellos. The god of fire was in dragon form. If a hostile plane attacked, it would be critical to hold the line as close to the portal as possible. The Beldurian army was legendary. They had the distinct honor of being the only military force to have set foot in all of the hostile planes.

Pushing through a portal was tremendously difficult, but the well trained knights of Beldur could handle any foe with firepower of Lord Bellos on their side. The portal disc widened and widened. The colorful explosion of energy left the inky black portal, a bridge between worlds. Nothing crossed through.

After a few minutes Bellos went towards the doorway. Andin remained behind. Bellos couldn’t fit through the portal in dragon form. He remolded into his familiar shape and walked through the door. A moment later he returned with a black robed warrior wielding a massive scythe. Bellos was grinning ear to ear.

With a booming voice Bellos shouted, “May I present to you Lord Crepus, god of death.” The Riddari sent bolts of celebratory flame into the air. Beldur had not been opened to Ventisma, the Plane of Death in many years. Two civilized planes in a row was a rare treat for the fire-hearts.

Immediately the Riddari began to stand down their defenses. Their counterparts in Ventisma, the Reapers, did likewise. Word quickly spread through both capitals. Headmaster Svoi sent a message to the College to bring any students who wished to study abroad in Ventisma during the ninety days of the portal opening.

Bellos and Crepus respected each other greatly. The relationship between Beldur and Ventisma had always been strong. The two gods shared a passion for knowledge and studying the magical sciences. They walked together through the streets of Varsim, the capital city of Ventisma. “I’ve something to show you Bellos,” said Crepus to his old friend. “And I to you,” smiled Bellos.

**

Andin accompanied Svoi to the School of Necromancy. “I was always surprised you chose to imbue earth magic – I think you would have been a fine necromancer,” said Svoi to his former pupil.

“I enjoyed it as much as any other discipline, but I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to master earth and fire together,” replied Andin. The pair walked through the streets admiring the ornate architecture.

Svoi would negotiate the student exchange program with the Commandant of the school. Because the School of Necromancy was a militarized institution special arrangements would need to be made to accommodate students from Beldur, and likewise for the College of Beldur receiving students from Ventisma.

Andin politely excused himself from Svoi and the Commandant’s meeting. Instead the fire prince opted to wander through the halls of the school. In some rooms students sparred with wooden weapons, in others students practiced reanimating specimens of the strange wildlife of Ventisma.

Andin’s meanderings took him to the Crypt of Heroes. The iconic pale blue stone of Ventisma entombed the long dead warriors. The most skilled and devoted warriors of the Reapers lay here, members of the Twilight Vanguard.

“Do you know why they were so feared in battle?” asked an old voice. Andin turned to the thin man addressing him, “No sir, why is that?”

The old man rested his hand reverently on one of the tombs, “The Vanguard reached their legendary prowess in battle by destroying and reanimating their own limbs. The arms and legs of a Vanguard are nothing more than dead tissue.” Andin’s eyes widened, the old man continued.

“The body can only take so much; a Vanguard has never served more than eight years. Some even will practice bloodletting before battle, assuring victory – and their own death.”

Andin couldn’t help but admire this selflessness. He turned to the old man, “I never knew that.”

“That is my job young fire caller, to carry their story,” said the old man.

“What do you do here?” asked Andin.

The man stood a little taller “I reanimate and repair the decaying tissue of the Vanguard Captains.”

“I thought once a life was lost the spirit was lost permanently?” said Andin.

“True, but with careful preservation the memories their bodies witnessed can be saved,” answered the man.

“Recounts of their battles have already been transcribed in the Academy archives, but a whole lifetime of memories cannot be copied, I am their sole trustee, I am the Keeper,” the old man stated his title with pride.

Andin knew the Plane of Death had fought with the Plane of Torment some time ago. After a long pause he turned to the Keeper, “Can we speak with the Vanguard Captain who fought in the Plane of Torment?”

The Keeper began walking away from the prince, “You may listen to his story.” Andin followed. The Plane of Torment had always intrigued the prince. Very little was known about the Sadists other than their cruelty and strength in battle. The Keeper stopped at one of the tombs, “You seek Captain Wane; I can show you his memories, but his spirit is gone, he cannot answer your questions.”

Andin understood and watched attentively. The Keeper delicately pulled back the veil covering the armored corpse in the open faced tomb. The Keeper placed his hands on Wane’s partially decayed head, “Wake up Captain; a Beldurian fire caller seeks your wisdom.” Wane’s body tightened; a thin stream of black and blue smoke swirled through his eye sockets and decayed nose.

“Yes that should do; Captain could you please recount the portal opening to the Plane of Torment?” asked the Keeper.

The corpse spoke in a hollow voice, “It was year seven hundred seventy-two. The doorway was about to open. I had personally overseen the defenses – they were strong. The first beast through the portal was a massive Crusher; it filled the entire portal’s width. Its hands had been replaced with two massive spiked spheres imbued with torturous magic.”

“We brought the first Crusher down easily; the next five lasted longer. They used the mass of the first as cover from our barrage. Then the Divisas came, they were the first real show of force from Torment. The snaking beasts made a sickening snapping noise anytime one of their joints bent.”

Andin was enthralled; the Captain continued reciting his account. “The Divisas were fast; they came through in one massive wave, we weren’t ready for them. Their thin segmented bodies were studded with needles, needles they used to inject pain magic into our soldiers while they constricted them. The screams were awful.”

“Lord Crepus dealt with them as he could, but even a god has his limits. Many of the Divisas flew from the portal site into the city and the outlands. Delaying our reinforcements and causing terrible havoc on the civilians. In the evening Garruk, the god of Torment, boldly crossed through. The battle between him and Crepus was the most terrible display of power I had ever witnessed.”

“By midnight we had pushed the frontline forces back to the portal entrance, Crepus wanted to cross through to pursue Garruk; I was to lead the charge. They had taken so many of our people.” Andin was so engrossed in the story he didn’t notice the world around him go grey. The Keeper had frozen in place. The Captain’s rotted face turned towards Andin, “I knew the fire prince would come to me one day.”

Andin could only mutter out a confused, “What?”

The Captain sat up in his tomb and grabbed Andin, pulling him close, “Your fate has been written fire prince; you must be the one to kill Garruk.”

Andin recoiled and drew his sickles; he now noticed the strange greyness filling the tomb. The Keeper stood frozen, “What’s going on?” shouted Andin.

The Captain repeated, “The fire prince must kill the Tormentor, it has been written.”

Before Andin could ask anything else the Captain returned to his tomb, the freezing grey lifted, and the Keeper ended his reanimation spell. “I hope that satisfies you fire caller, the Academy Archives will have a detailed account of all the portal openings as well.”

Andin didn’t move. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. It was obvious the Keeper hadn’t seen what Andin had. He left the Crypt of Heroes thinking only of Garruk.

**

Two weeks passed. Andin was at the Solstice Festival, the celebration of two planes peacefully connecting. The festival was a jovial formality, it traditionally signaled the opening of trade between two planes. However, negotiations and trade agreements had already been finalized before the festival. The exchange of goods, services, and students had already began. Though the exchange of goods, services, and students had already been underway, the festival was a jovial formality. The opening festival was held in Ventisma. Eleven weeks later, the closing ceremonies would take place in Beldur.

A small group of officials gathered around the two gods, Andin joined them. “I first heard of the fire prince when our portal opened to Kato five years ago,” said Crepus to Andin. Andin bowed in respect. “Seeing you now it is obvious why your father cherishes you so much,” there was a thin suspicion in Crepus’s voice.

“Ladies and Gentlemen if you’ll excuse us,” said Bellos. “Come with us son,” he added. The trio walked from the crowded portal site towards Crepus’s temple. “Lord Crepus has convinced me over the last few days of negotiations to include you in one of our experiments,” Bellos paused to add weight to his next statement, “From now on any time the three of us are together working you must be sworn to complete and utter secrecy, even from Svoi.”

“Yes father, I understand,” answered Andin.

“As you may have suspected, I have been working on a new type of magical discipline, one that has been explored in the past to no avail,” said Bellos. He continued, “But in the last few years we have had some breakthroughs.”

They ascended the steps of the temple. “What are you two working on?” asked Andin.

“Portal magic fire prince,” answered Crepus.

“I thought that was impossible,” said Andin.

“We thought so too for the last nine hundred years, but finally our efforts are bearing fruit,” answered Andin’s father.

“Your training will start immediately, if we’re lucky, and you are as good as your father claims, we might make some real progress during the short summer,” said Crepus. Bellos nodded. They explained what they understood about the discipline to the prince.

“A demonstration will illustrate what we have just explained,” said Crepus.

“When we start the spell, pay attention to the way the energy is shifting,” instructed Bellos.

“Yes father,” said Andin.

“I will begin,” said Crepus to Bellos.

In a shallow basin atop the temple were the jumbled bones of a serpent. Crepus’s eyes seethed black and blue smoke as he reanimated the snake; it neatly assembled itself and began to consume its own tail. It levitated and spun slowly. Bellos ignited the snake in a bright purple flame. Bellos worked to destroy what Crepus worked to reanimate. It spun faster.

A pale white fog formed a disc in the center of the snake. The massive strain of the magic was evident on the two god’s faces. The disc steadied for a moment as a dark blob moved across its surface. The disc collapsed and the bones fell back into the basin.

Between panting breaths Bellos spoke, “That son… was a portal… we think.”

“Undoubtedly,” said Crepus. The two gods were pleased, after a few minutes they had recovered fully. “I underestimated the value a second discipline would add, that was the clearest window I’ve ever seen” said Crepus.

Bellos nodded and asked, “Andin do you need another demonstration?”

“No, I think I understand the push-pull action going on,” answered Andin. “My earth magic is far from fully developed but I think I can help,” he added.

“Well let’s get started, Andin you will jump in last – Bellos and I will adjust to your input,” said Crepus eagerly.

As before the snake’s skeleton reassembled. Bellos ignited the creature. The misty disc began to grow. “Now son!” shouted Bellos over the swirling wind. Andin cut a ring of stone from the lip of the basin. It crumbled and joined the blazing serpent. The disc heaved and bulged with energy as it widened.

Andin’s contribution was greater than Crepus had bargained for; the dark blobs moving on the disc began to sharpen. The three held on as long as they could until the strain became unbearable. Crepus, Bellos, and Andin finally relented. The disc remained. “What’s happening?” yelled Andin.

“It’s sustaining itself!” shouted Bellos. The disc pulsed powerfully and burst fully into existence. The explosion threw Bellos and Crepus off the top of the temple. As he fell Bellos could see his son being sucked into the portal. He was too exhausted from the spell to intervene.

Andin hurtled through the portal. Crepus watched in horror as he fell, he caught a glimpse of something through the doorway. Was that Lin? He thought to himself.

Still falling, the two gods smashed through the nearby structures. In a fury they returned to the top of Crepus’s temple. The disc was gone. Andin was gone. Bellos cursed aloud.

“You’ll be reunited friend,” said Crepus trying to comfort his friend, recounting what he had seen.

Chapter Eight – The painter and his canvas

All Andin saw was black earth and pink sky. He was hundreds of feet above the ground. His body was being pulled towards something. In the distance he saw a faint white speck. It grew and grew as it careened towards him. This isn’t good, thought Andin as he realized he was about to collide with something. The white speck was screaming. Impact.

The world instantly went pitch black. Nothing to see, feel, or hear; it was utterly empty. Just as the unimaginable pain of nothingness peaked the world exploded with white light and calamity. The feeling of complete emptiness to overwhelming fullness was indescribable. Andin fell limp and cratered into the black ground.

The prince awoke. He felt awful. He dug his way out of the black sand he was buried in. He breached the surface and sprawled in the sand, gasping.

There was movement in the other crater. Andin was still too weak to summon his sickles. He crawled to the lip to look at what he had hit. He had hit someone, someone who was now buried upside down in the sand. His legs were the only thing exposed, and they kicked helplessly. Andin couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

Andin decided to help. He slid down the sandy slope of the crater and grabbed one of the legs. Whoever it was they weren’t expecting to be grabbed, the legs kicked even harder, “Relax, relax!” pleaded Andin. He pulled and sent a small belch of flame to loosen the sand around the buried fellow’s waist.

The sand let go of the upside down man. The freed man screamed and sent a flurry of sand towards the prince. When it settled Andin was face to face with a massive armored lizard. It roared at the fire prince. Andin’s eyes widened, he ran. The monstrosity barreled towards him. Andin sent bolts of flame towards the beast over his shoulder. They didn’t slow it down.

Andin drew his sickles and turned to fight. The beast was already disintegrating into a pile of the same black sand that filled the landscape. Andin looked confused as the lizard vanished before his eyes. In the distance he saw the white clothed man running. “You,” growled Andin. He had regained his composure, the chase was on.

He was fast but Andin was faster. Periodically, stone walls would grow out of nothing blocking Andin’s path, he dodged and leapt around them. A breath away from his target the elusive man split into countless copies of himself. Is this the Plane of Deceit?, wondered Andin realizing his quarry could create illusions. All of the copies were kicking up sand, but only one was leaving footprints.

“Gotcha,” said Andin now atop his prey. The white clothed man yelped as Andin tackled him to the ground. The illusions the man had made melted into the ground. “Who are you and what is this place?” demanded Andin.

“I’m Fake and this is my canvas, please get off,” said Fake while squirming.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, I just want to know where I am,” explained Andin as he got off of Fake and helped him up. “And what do you mean your canvas?” asked Andin confused. Fake pinched Andin’s arms and neck. He waved his hands around the fire prince. “What are you doing?” asked Andin bewildered.

“When did I make you? I don’t remember making you,” said Fake.

“What are you talking about I just came here, I was thrown through a manmade portal,” said Andin.

“The what?” asked Fake.

“The portal, you didn’t see it in the sky?”

“No, I was working on a super army when all of a sudden I got pulled through the air.”

Andin was now as confused as Fake. “What did you mean when you said this is your canvas?”

“It’s where I make things, I make all sorts of things, big things, little things, angry things, nice things, cities and castles and towns and monsters and warriors and flowers and…”

Andin interrupted Fake, “Okay I get it, you make things.”

“But I didn’t make you?” asked Fake still moving bizarrely around Andin.

“No,” said Andin flatly.

“So you’re… you’re real?” Fake’s tone rose in excitement. “I always knew there were real things other than me! I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it!” Fake was now hysterical.

“Calm down, there are lots of real things; are you the only person here?” asked Andin.

Fake’s eyes widened, “There are lots of real things?”

Andin sighed, “Yes, relax, where is the center of this plane? I need to find a way to open another portal; the best spot will be in the center. If you take me there I can show you other real things.”

“Well the middle-ish is that way,” said Fake pointing in a seemingly arbitrary direction. Andin shrugged and headed where Fake had pointed.

“Hey can I come with you? It’s so cool that you just do whatever you want instead of what I make you do,” rambled Fake. “I mean you’re real! You are a real person! You are made of… stuff not just my sand!” Fake continued to talk, Andin half listened.

Andin normally would have been frustrated with such an overt personality but the utter uniqueness of Fake was too intriguing to ignore. He decided he would wait until Fake had calmed down before he started asking questions. The two walked for some time.

Fake went quiet for a few minutes. Andin broke the silence, “So you’re the only person here?”

“Well the only real one,” answered Fake.

“How did you summon that lizard and those copies of yourself?”

“That’s what I do. I make things; that’s all I do actually. But… they aren’t real, they are just pictures, I change the way the sand looks and moves,” explained the illusionist.

“How long have you been here?” Andin felt a strange sadness asking that question.

“A long time, I stopped counting after five hundred years.” Fake’s tone mirrored Andin’s feelings.

“Was there anything before you came here? You speak the Common.”

“Just blurred memories, there was a great world filled with people and creatures, then a war, then one day I woke up here.”

“So you’re an immortal?” reasoned the fire prince.

“A what?”

“An immortal, you don’t need to eat; you just sleep and feel better right?”

“I could try to make you something if you’re hungry, but it would just be black sand.”

“No that’s okay, I’m an immortal too,” Andin shared his secret with Fake freely, he felt unusually comfortable with him. “Most men are mortal though, they need to eat and they can be killed,” explained Andin.

“I know, I remember many of them dying in the war, I guess I never wondered why I lived for so long,” said Fake.

“So you were there before the Sundering?” asked Andin.

“The what?”

“The great war over the power of creation; the war that broke the world.”

“No the memories are just pieces, I wasn’t there I just remember things from it. What does the new world look like?”

“It’s still broken, from what we know after the Sundering the shattered pieces of the old world reformed into the planes, they are completely separate from another until the summer solstice.”

“What happens then?” asked Fake.

“A portal opens up connecting two planes. It seems to be random; sometimes it goes to the wild, sometimes it opens to another civilized plane, and sometimes to dangerous places. The portal stays open for ninety days until the fall equinox when it closes again.”

“But never to here,” said Fake disappointedly.

“Well not until now.”

“Why do they open?” asked Fake

“The prevailing theory is the shattered world is trying to heal itself, and it opens up portals to try to restore balance. But we don’t know for sure, the energies at a portal behave completely different from normal magical energy.”

“So you can’t control them at all?”

“No.”

“Then how did you get here?”

“We tried to force open a portal, it obviously worked but it was uncontrollable. I got pulled through it to this place, your canvas as you call it.”

“Is that how you are going to try to get home?”

“Yes,” nodded Andin.

“Wow! Can I come with you?” Fake’s tone rose excitedly.

“Yes, if we can get a portal opened.”

Fake melted into joyful hysteria. “Really? I can go with you? That’s so great!” Andin watched in awe as Fake began the strangest celebration he had ever seen. It was half dance half wild flailing; Andin felt the urge to laugh, but it was quickly overwhelmed by his own secondary embarrassment.

For hours they walked together towards where Fake had pointed. The sun never set, it just skirted along the horizon. The pair asked each other many questions, Fake asked the most. They talked and walked until Andin stopped them.

“Do you need a break?” asked Fake.

“No, get down,” said Andin as he lowered himself to the sand. “Look, do you see that?” asked Andin pointing towards the horizon.

Chapter Nine – Uneasy greetings

“It’s probably something I made a long time ago; if I concentrate when I build things they last for a long time,” guessed Fake.

“We need to be careful, if a portal can be forced open to your canvas now it might also be possible for a natural one to open as well,” said Andin. “Can you make me a telescope?” he added.

Fake raised his hands and a small pile of black sand swirled into a long brass tube, “Here you go,” said Fake offering his creation.

Andin looked through the device, “The curve of the lens is important, can you make it look like this shape?” Andin drew two arcs in the sand. Fake conjured up an improved replacement. “Better,” said Andin. They worked in this fashion for a few more minutes until the telescope worked properly. “You’re quite useful,” complimented the prince.

Andin looked at the dots on the horizon, “Well I see some men sitting,” Andin scanned near them, “A few tents, wait a second… is that?” Andin rubbed his eyes and passed the telescope to Fake, “Tell me what you see.”

“I don’t remember making anyone like this; those two bigger guys that are moving around, they look sort of... fishlike,” said Fake.

“Fake I think a portal opened up here from Pelagos,” said Andin.

“From where?” asked Fake.

“The Plane of Water, Pelagos is its formal name,” answered Andin. “Fake I need you to stay here while I check this out,” said Andin feeling strangely protective of his new friend.

“Why?” The illusionist asked slightly puzzled.

Andin tried to explain, “Why would the gods of Pelagos be in your plane with no portal in sight? Something doesn’t add up here, and you don’t know how to fight.” Andin knew Fake was valuable; revealing the powerful and naive illusionist to a rival plane could be a mistake. “If anyone but me comes to get you, use your magic to hide,” instructed Andin.

“Okay,” conceded Fake.

“Just watch through the telescope, it will be fine – I might be gone for a while, but I’ll try to stay in view,” said Andin as he silently ran off.

Fake watched as the fire prince moved like a ghost in the open terrain. Andin hoped the dog-leg he ran before turning towards the encampment would help hide Fake’s location. Nearing the camp he slowed to a walk and announced his presence with an airborne burst of fire.

The Brothers Qin and Lin instinctively gripped their weapons at the sound of the blast. “Who is that?” asked Lin turning towards their visitor. The Brothers walked towards the young man who approached their camp. “Stop,” shouted Qin. “Place your hands on your head if you value your life stranger,” added Lin. Andin complied.

“Greetings lords of Pelagos, we have never met but it is likely you have heard of me, I am Andin son of Bellos, god of Beldur,” said Andin as nonthreatening as he could.

“The fire prince? That is a bold claim young one,” answered Qin. “How could you prove such a claim?” asked Lin.

“Perhaps the story of how I came to this place would suffice – if you would be so kind as to explain your arrival here as well,” offered Andin. It pained him to reveal the portal magic to the Brothers but it was the only information that could sell his story.

Lin whispered to his brother, “He’s as silver-tongued as Bellos that’s for sure.” Qin agreed and approached Andin, “We were trapped here when the portal connecting Pelagos and this plane collapsed prematurely.”

Andin explained how the experimental portal magic went wrong. His descriptions of Bellos and Crepus seemed sufficient enough for the Brothers to lower their guard. Andin purposefully omitted Fake’s part in the story. “So it seems our party of trapped rats grows by one,” said Lin. “Unfortunately fire prince you’ll find our accommodations here poor,” said Qin.

“When you arrived what happened?” asked Lin.

“I was thrown through the air, the world went dark, then light, and it was over,” answered Andin.

“We saw a streak through the sky,” said Qin. “We experienced the dark and light as well, it was a tremendous display,” said Lin.

The marines and magi eyed Andin with suspicion – his clothing was plainly Beldurian. Bellos and the Brothers never quite saw eye to eye, and relations between the two planes had always been curt. “So do you have any idea about this place?” asked Andin filling the silence.

“No – it’s remarkable in the sense that it is wholly unremarkable,” answered Lin. “Stale air, little wind, and the odd withered tree – which is made of the same black sand that is seemingly everywhere,” he added with indignation. “The portal magic, can it be done again?” asked Qin.

Andin sighed, “I can’t know for sure, I’ve only tried it once.” Andin added, “It seemed the more elemental disciplines involved, the better the portal is, so encountering you here is fortunate.” Andin felt as if he were betraying his father telling the Brothers about the portal magic – but his mission was too important to abandon, he had to get to Pelagos. Somehow, through the Brothers, he could get there.

Qin was eager to get started; three dozen of his men were trapped here with them with dwindling supplies. He pushed the issue and Andin gave in, and they began attempting to recreate the efforts of Bellos and Crepus. After hours of frustration the three took a break.

Andin walked off to the edge of the camp to get away from the tense uncertainty that infected the men. He could only think about Fake – Andin needed Fake with him, though he couldn’t explain why. Andin had to send Fake a message in secret. He looked back at the camp; the Brothers were in their tent.

With a small effort Andin conjured a small stone in his palm. He carved a short message into it and catapulted it towards where he thought Fake was waiting. The stone silently flew to Fake and landed only a few feet away with a satisfying thud. “I hope he trusts me,” whispered Andin aloud.

Moments earlier Fake had been sleeping. Watching his friend and the two bigger guys stand in a circle making swirls of fire and water became boring. He awoke to see Andin sitting on the edge of the camp, facing Fake. The stone landed near him, he read the message.

Come to the camp soon. Make it a dramatic entrance. Act like we have never met, it will be easier to protect you this way.

Fake didn’t understand the need for secrecy, but he instinctively trusted Andin. Fake mirrored Andin’s actions and walked the perimeter of the camp to conceal his original location. He hid his movements with an illusion. Then he got an idea.

Andin was called back to the camp by the Brothers, who were ready to resume their attempts. Qin was pushing the issue hard, Andin tried to calm the overzealous Qin, “When Crepus and my father made a portal with that snake acting as some sort of tuner, they got a foggy disc that had darker and lighter spots.” Qin looked at Lin, Andin continued, “He said that was undoubtedly the best one they had made yet.”

“We need to slow down, figure out how this works, and if we can, make something to act as a tuner,” said Andin. Qin and Lin normally would never tolerate being told what to do by an overgrown boy, but the lives of their men were at stake – and this was the son of Bellos.

With the Brothers in a more temperate mood they began to outline everything they knew and needed to know to create a portal. Firstly, Andin explained the strange way in which the energy moves. “It felt almost like a duel, I was trying to destroy the energy they were creating, which was in turn trying to destroy the energy I was adding,” said Andin. The lecture was interrupted.

The ground shook. The thud was impossible to ignore. “What was that?” asked Lin. Another rumble struck. One of the men screamed, “Look out!” Everyone in the camp turned to what the alarmed magi had seen. The Brothers grabbed their weapons, Andin drew his sickles.

The massive reptile shook the earth with each step as it approached the camp. The monstrosity kept bending its head down, snapping at a white clothed man. At first Andin thought Fake was screaming, but as the monster came closer and closer it was clear that Fake was laughing hysterically, dodging the huge snapping jaws of the reptile. Andin fought to hide his grin.

My new friend is a madman, thought Andin happily as he sprinted towards the beast. The Brothers were further behind; they were only concerned with protecting the men. “Spread out, save your energy, don’t fight,” ordered Qin to the marines and magi. The men scattered, the creature was almost upon them.

With his signature burst of flame Andin was airborne. He flew into the head of the beast and was swallowed by a rolling hill of black sand. The monster became formless and crumbled into a large hill. Fake emerged first. He seemed quite pleased with himself.

“Don’t move; who are you?” asked Qin as the tip of his ornate trident pushed Fake into the hillside.

Fake’s happiness vanished; Qin frightened him. “I’m Fake the painter sir,” he said shakily.

“What was that monster?” said Qin continuing the impromptu interrogation.

“It was just something I made, I make things, that’s what I do,” pleaded Fake.

Andin had emerged from the sand now to join the Brothers.

“What happened?” he asked confused.

“What do you mean you made it? Was that a golem?” pressed Qin.

“A what? No, look,” Fake pointed his hand at the ground and created a rabbit out of a small swirl of sand, “I just paint things, they aren’t real.”

Qin exploded, “Deceiver! Servant of lies!” His trident pressed harder into Fake’s chest, breaking skin. Fake screamed; the rabbit and the few surrounding trees disintegrated. Andin had to intervene. He gripped Qin’s trident relieving the pressure, “Lord Qin, calm yourself; even the most cunning fabrications of Deceit couldn’t be this… strange.” Qin withdrew his weapon. “He may be of use to us, unspoiled,” said Lin.

Andin helped Fake up. “What is this place painter?” asked Lin.

“It’s my canvas, who are you guys?” asked Fake.

“Did he come with you?” asked Qin to Andin.

“No, I came alone,” answered Andin truthfully.

“Great, another mouth to feed,” said Qin exasperated.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Andin, pointing to Fake’s torn shirt. The three cuts in his chest had already stopped bleeding.

“An immortal? How can that be?” wondered Lin. The god of water continued thinking aloud, “A god with no mortal fauna? I thought such a thing was impossible.”

“Are there other living beings here?” asked Lin.

“No sir, no real ones anyway,” answered Fake, eager to comply to avoid another trident at his chest.

“You’re here alone then,” said Qin.

“Yes, until now, I didn’t think real things existed anymore,” said Fake.

Fake explained to the Brothers of his memories of the old world, the world before the Sundering. The Brothers decided to allow the illusionist into the encampment under the supervision of Andin. “Know that you are not in chains because we have allowed it,” warned Lin.

The Brothers returned to their men to restore order in the camp and explain what had happened. Andin and Fake walked the outskirts of the encampment.

“You did well, very dramatic,” complimented Andin.

“Why did that one attack me?” asked Fake.

“The Brothers, especially Qin, are very distrusting of outsiders; they had a portal opening to Deceit many centuries ago, and the men and women of Pelagos suffered greatly because of it.”

“Deceit?”

“It’s one of the hostile planes. We know very little about the Deceivers, a doorway hasn’t opened to Deceit in many years that we know of. Their magic is based on lies and trickery, similar to your illusions.”

“Is that why you asked me to pretend we had never met?”

“It would throw more distrust and suspicion on me, a burden we cannot afford if we wish to leave this place freely. Be careful with the men, the Brother’s distrust of outsiders mirrors their own.”

“Okay,” nodded Fake in agreement.

“Don’t talk to the Brothers if I’m not with you,” added Andin. Fake again nodded; and the pair walked quietly around the campsite. Both Andin and Fake finally succumbed to the exhaustion of the day and retired to the tent the Brothers had given them.

Every morning Lin would awake them, bringing Andin a single crumbly biscuit and a full bota of water. Andin and the Brothers would study and practice the uncooperative portal magic. They made no progress. The rations were nearly gone. Conjured water could only fight hunger so much.

Fake took to entertaining the men, and quickly won them over with his vibrancy and innocence. He would put on shows and try to recreate the creatures and landscapes the marines and magi described to him.

One of the older marines coached Fake through some simple swordplay, “Grip it firmly illusionist,” he instructed handing his rapier to Fake.

“Real things feel weird,” noted Fake.

The marine smiled, “Hold it a little higher, not so close to your body, it’s a weapon not a shield.” Fake swung the rapier in big clumsy chops. “This type of blade is for thrusting, you can cut with it only if you know the water discipline,” said the marine.

“It’s filled with water?” asked Fake.

“Yes,” answered the marine, “We use water magic to make our attacks stronger, I would show you but we’re on orders not to exert ourselves because of the food shortage.”

The lesson was interrupted by a loud burst coming from the portal site. The eyes of the camp jumped to the source.

Chapter Ten – Return to the void

A white disc manifested in the air where the portal had stood. “Did we do that?” asked Andin incredulously.

“I think not fire prince,” said Qin.

The disc fully materialized revealing two familiar shapes. Andin ran to them. “Dad! Lord Crepus! You got it to work!” Andin exclaimed before realizing he was wrong.

“No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken young prince” said Svoi.

“Headmaster? Where is my father?” asked Andin.

The Brothers joined Andin at the window. “For whatever reason mortal men are much better suited to this task,” said Svoi as his voice became more strained. “If one of the gods even came near the window it would collapse; we’ve tried,” said Svoi.

“Can we use this portal to cross through Beldurian?” asked Qin.

“I’m afraid not Waterlord; it is merely a window, not a doorway,” regretted Svoi. “Where are you Andin?” asked the headmaster.

“It’s some new plane, completely barren, a natural portal opened here from Pelagos, then collapsed early,” explained Andin.

“The universe seeks balance prince, perhaps the doorway will reopen,” consoled Svoi. “We managed to create this window using four disciplines, I’m afraid it won’t last much longer, the burden is great,” Svoi now sounded completely spent. As suddenly as it had appeared the window vanished. Helplessness swept through the camp.

Their ship was still sinking, but now their tragedy could be observed. “Do any of your men know other disciplines?” asked Andin.

“I’m sure they do, but they are already too weak, the rations will be exhausted in two days,” said Lin heavily.

“Three days,” corrected Andin. Andin went to his tent to fetch four weeks of uneaten biscuits. There was now no denying Andin was an immortal like them. “I see your father has done the impossible,” said Qin voicing what he had suspected all along.

“Even I don’t know how,” shrugged Andin. No child of mortal or god had ever been born an immortal. Bellos had somehow cracked it.

**

In Pelagos things were eerily business as usual. No one knew what to do other than what they had always done. Half of the fleet was dispersed to keep the shipping lanes clear of pirates and monsters, the rest remained at Greater Pirenna. The prison ship Jagged Reef sailed for the edge of the plane towards the void.

Punishments in Pelagos were immediate and conclusive, but so was forgiveness. Banishment to the void was the worst the Naval Tribunal could sentence, for it was permanent and afforded no chance to return to good graces with the people of Pelagos. It was saved for mutineers and particularly abhorrent crimes.

Four men were locked in the brig to be banished. Three were mutineers who slit the throats of ten fellow sailors to steal a warship. One was different. It was a three week voyage from the portal site on Greater Pirenna near the center of the plane to the edge of the world.

The three spent their time cursing and pleading, any other punishment would do. “Cut out my tongue, brand my face, anything but the void, have mercy won’t you?” begged one of the mutineers. The jailor could only laugh, their fate was sealed after the tribunal, nothing else could be done.

The fourth spent his time waiting. His task in Pelagos was complete. One of the master at arms leaned against his cell door, “Oi, murderer – do you even know what is going to happen to you?” The prisoner said nothing. “You are no sailor and you don’t look like a bridge crosser I’ve ever seen.” The master at arms pressed against the bars of the cell, “Where are you from?” Again, he was answered with silence.

He said nothing to the guard who first found him and his three dead victims. He didn’t resist arrest. He didn’t offer an excuse or explanation, the blood was on his hands and he said nothing. The tribunal deciding his fate was terrified of his silent defiance, banishment was an easy way to remove that which they feared and couldn’t understand.

The vast ocean of Pelagos grew shallow as the ship neared the edge. The entire plane was rung with a halo of soft white sand. The beach ended in cliff face overlooking the infinite void. The ship cast anchor and the prisoners were sent ashore.

The skeletal keel of a beached warship served as gangplank into the void. The two executioners tied themselves to both the old warship and the sand anchors. The first mutineer was bound; urine darkened the sand beneath his left foot. He walked despondent up the keel, prodded on by the executioners.

He looked down into the empty purple-black of the void. One executioner read his name, his crime, and his punishment aloud. The other shoved him over. The two men watched him fall, and returned to shore to send off the next mutineer.

It was time for the fourth man. The shore party feared his stoic silence and confident face. The man felt their fear of him. “You’re next stranger,” said the lead executioner. He led the man to the beached ship. Even bound he had the look and presence of a man in complete control.

On the precipice the executioner read aloud the crimes of the man, “For the heinous murder of the Prestle family: Marth Prestle, Penny Prestle, and their young daughter Nina Prestle you are hereby sentenced to banishment to the void. Do you have any last words?”

To this question the man turned, revealing a glass blade in his hand. The executioners were frozen in fear; they did not want to risk their own tethers being cut. The man calmly removed his bindings. Then stepped over the edge without protest and plummeted.

No one in the shore party understood what had just happened. They were nonetheless relieved to be rid of the mysterious killer.

The fall would take him about thirty minutes. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes and fell endlessly in the starry dark. He passed one of the writhing mutineers whose face reflected his bewilderment at the calm of the stranger.

The four men neared the Heart of the World, and entered the territory of the Void Demons. Void Demons were formless beings, black smoke hid their shifting masses of flesh. To see a Void Demon at the edge was a dark omen as they seek only the destruction of man.

The first mutineer reached them; the demon’s pale and slimy tendrils engulfed and devoured him. His fellow traitors heard his screams moments before they too were consumed. The strange man passed through unharmed.

The Heart appeared in the distance, faintly illuminated. Enveloping glass shells surrounded the heart. The shadowy man shattered through the layers of glass. The broken shells reformed behind him as he crashed through each successive shell. He landed kneeling on the Heart of the World.

“They are dead,” he said in a low voice.

**

The death of Admiral Moro had put Pria in an uncomfortable position of power. As his executive officer she was automatically promoted to Captain of the Bitter Chain upon his passing. The absence of the Brothers invoked an ancient law where the responsibilities they traditionally held as Fleet Admirals fell to the acting captain of the flagship. In one terrible day Pria found herself in charge of the entire Pelagic Naval fleet.

The guilt was consuming; she occupied herself with work. No one else thought Pria was responsible for the death of Moro, or the loss of the gods. But she did. The repairs to the Bitter Chain had been long finished, but she didn’t dare sail far from the portal site.

Her gods had been gone for two months. Hope that they would return was fading. The admiralty discussed behind closed doors the need to restructure the Navy in the event the Brothers were truly lost. Politically savvy admirals had already begun posturing for power and influence.

Pria did what she could to maintain order but the climate in the fleet was tense, factions were forming. Then, sixty-two days after it had shut, the portal reopened.

It was the Plane of Rage as before. A single dead Fiend fell through the portal, not the horde they were expecting. The defenses at the portal site had been fully reconstructed. The forces of Pelagos were ready this time, yet no enemies crossed through. The portal to Rage closed. The portal to Fake’s Canvas opened.

Trapped amongst strangers Fake and Andin had spent hour after hour together. Andin explaining the world the way he saw it, Fake showing Andin the worlds he could create. Their friendship grew rampantly. By the time the portal reopened they were all but inseparable.

Qin crossed through first. He recognized his home and oversaw the immediate evacuation of the men stranded on the other side. None of the starved mortals could move on their own, their delicate bodies were carefully loaded onto stretchers.

Pria arrived at the portal. She approached Qin and saluted, “My lord, thank the heavens you’re back.” Waves of relief washed over Pria.

Qin didn’t understand why she was greeting him, “Lady Pria, where is Admiral Moro?”

Pria looked down at her feet in shame, “He’s dead milord, killed in the chaos of the portal collapse and the Rage Fiend attack.”

“Rage Fiends? Here in Pelagos? How?” asked Qin.

Lady Pria informed Qin of all that had taken place in the past months. Qin’s immediate concern was the evacuation of his men, only after they were safe would he deal with his wayward admirals. Lin remained on the other side lest the portal shut close again unexpectedly.

The last stretcher crossed through the doorway. Pria’s eyes wetted as she saw the thin lifeless marine pass her. “Lives were lost on both sides,” said Qin heavily. Fake and Andin followed the last stretcher out, then Lin. “Lady Pria, see to it these two have accommodations, they will be staying in Pelagos for some time it seems,” said Qin.

Fake was overwhelmed with the commotion at the portal site. He had just spent the last month watching in horror as the stranded marines and magi starved into beings of no substance. He was frightened. Andin saw his friend’s distress; he pointed Fake towards a secluded beach opposite the portal site. “Will you send a runner to us before sundown? We’ll be on that beach,” said Andin to Pria.

“You will be escorted there by a security detail,” said Pria sharply.

“I don’t think so,” said Andin.

“This entire island is property of the Pelagic Navy Beldurian, you cannot-”

Qin interrupted Pria; “They may go unescorted Lady Pria.” Pria accepted her orders with grace and dropped the issue.

Andin ran to catch Fake. He reached his friend, “You okay?” he asked.

Fake looked at Andin and asked, “They’ll be okay now right?”

Andin nodded, “Yes, they will be well taken care of now. The doctors of Pelagos are some of the best.”

“If the portal hadn’t reopened all of those men would have died,” said Fake.

“That’s a part of mortality Fake, men can die,” replied Andin.

“I know,” sighed the illusionist. The pair reached the thin strip of white sand. “It looks like my Canvas,” said Fake, seeing the ocean for the first time.

“I made it here quicker than I thought,” said Andin who had never seen the endless waters either.

“To Pelagos?” asked Fake.

“Yes.”

“You were trying to come here before?”

“Yes, there is something I need to do here.”

“What is it?”

Andin smiled, “Maybe you can help.”

Chapter Eleven – The long stay in the great ocean.

Fake and Andin returned to the same strip of secluded beach the next day. They basked in the morning sunlight. “The air is so clear here; in Beldur if it’s not a snowstorm it’s ash from a volcano clouding your vision,” said Andin.

“I’d like to visit there as well,” said Fake.

“You know they say the treasures and terrors of Pelagos are all hidden beneath the waves,” said Andin as he stood up and approached the water. He dove beneath a wave.

Fake couldn’t see his friend past the foamy wash. “Andin?” he said worried. Fake stood to get a better view; Andin remained hidden.

In a massive swell the sand beneath Fake’s feet lurched and tossed him into the air. Fake screamed as he tumbled into the waves. Andin broke the surface to watch his friend catapult into the water. Reveling in his mischief Andin was crippled with laughter. Fake lunged and tackled Andin into the surf.

Fake waved his hand to create an illusion to continue the attack, but nothing happened. After getting a hold of his laughing fit Andin asked, “It doesn’t work with this sand does it?”

Fake shook his head, “I think it has to be sand from my plane.”

“We’ll get your sand tomorrow; best to get settled quickly, we’ll likely be here for a while.”

“We can’t go home?” asked Fake

“No, there is no known way to control where a portal opens up to, and it only opens to one plane once a year,” said Andin as he sat back down on the shoreline.

“Well how long will it take?”

“Could be next year, could be a hundred years, most portal openings are to wild planes; planes that have no gods or civilized beings. Considering recent events, I suspect we may not have to wait so long.”

“What will we do here then?” wondered the illusionist.

“There is one thing I want to do here, but mostly wait, study, prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” asked Fake as he started digging in the sand.

“A doorway back to Beldur – or one to Torment.”

“The Plane of Torment? Why?”

“To kill Garruk, their god,” said Andin with fervor.

“Can gods be killed?”

“Fake, a portal has never closed early until your plane; this is a special time. Just because it’s never been done before doesn’t mean it can’t be.” said Andin relishing in the impossibility of his task.

“Why try to kill him?” questioned Fake.

“He’s evil and evil must be destroyed, and an old warrior asked me to.”

Andin stood up, he assumed he would eventually tell Fake more, but for now the conversation was over. “Let’s go find some barrels for tomorrow,” said Andin. “What for?” asked Fake. “Your sand, we should take as much as we can manage.”

In the morning Fake and Andin left their room by the docks. They headed for the portal site. Normally there was always a steady stream of traffic through portals, but the Brothers had forbidden anyone to cross over. Qin stood watch at the portal site.

“Damn,” whispered Andin. “What is it?” asked Fake. “He won’t want us to go through – especially you, wait here, stay out of sight,” said Andin. Fake hid behind one of the many newly constructed battlements surrounding the portal.

“Lord Qin,” said Andin as he bowed.

“Fire prince, what brings you to the portal?” asked Qin sounding irritated.

“I would like to collect some samples of the sand to study; though mundane in appearance it could have some useful properties.”

“Yes, like giving your deceptive little friend the weapons to create any falsehood he wishes.”

Andin had hoped Lin would be at the portal site, but he was prepared for Qin as well. He pulled out five small glass vials from his tunic. “Just five small samples Waterlord; four of which will go to Lin and his magi,” said Andin.

Despite his reservations Qin knew Lin would want to study the material more closely. Qin motioned to Andin that he was free to cross through. Andin crossed through to the eerie black expanse of sand. He filled the glass vials and scanned the horizon. “Nine hundred years here alone… incredible,” said Andin thinking aloud.

Andin returned to Pelagos vials in hand. He immediately handed four to Qin, “When can we discuss the arrangements for my and Fake’s long term stay here?”

“There is an admiralty meeting tonight aboard the Bitter Chain, we will negotiate our terms officially then.”

“And Fake?” asked Andin.

“The deceiver will not set foot on my flagship.”

Andin couldn’t have been more pleased with the news. Even his limited experience with portal magic would be a powerful bargaining chip. He bowed to Qin and left the portal site. Fake joined his friend as they headed back to their private beach. “Your first real mission is tonight,” said Andin as he pulled a full bota from under his tunic.

He tossed the bag to Fake and said, “That’s as much as I could get safely.” Fake uncorked the suede bota and his black sand poured out. Andin held up the vial, “I’m going to keep this bit; I really do want to examine it more closely.” Fake cheerfully sent swirls of his sand around the palm trees.

The sand settled into a miniature of one of the ships at the docks. “The Brothers won’t be at the portal tonight, that will be your chance to get more of your sand,” said Andin. “This should be enough to conceal me but how am I going to smuggle whole barrels out of my canvas?” asked Faked.

“You’ll have to play it by ear; the soil here is too soft and sandy to tunnel safely to the portal site. If the barrels are too risky just get what you can manage. You must stay hidden Fake, don’t create any monsters or anything dramatic, the Brothers will know it was you and our stay here will become unpleasant.”

The model ship disintegrated. The two worked on Fake’s concealing illusion until sunset. “Good luck, I’ll see you at the docks,” wished Andin as he left for the meeting. Fake was excited, in his canvas he would play games like this to entertain himself, but it was no substitute for the real thing. The sand swirled around the illusionist and concealed him.

Fake moved stealthily towards the portal site, the sun had taken its last bow above the horizon. His illusion wouldn’t hide him perfectly, so he was counting on using the battlements for cover. He reached the exterior defenses, the sand concealing him fell to the ground as Fake caught his breath. He resumed the delicate spell and headed inside the large ring of defensive structures.

Andin boarded the Bitter Chain and formally introduced himself to Lady Pria who sat adjacent. “I meant no insult the other day at the portal, my friend and I just needed some time away,” said Andin in an attempt to calm the waters. Pria was unimpressed, “You’re lucky the Brothers were so lenient, it is likely they will not be so lax tonight.”

Under his cloak of shadows Fake moved to the next ring of defenses. His eyes locked on a marine fearfully, but the marine ignored the soft ripples in the air and stood looking bored. Peering around the stone wall Fake saw two clusters of barrels. A group of magi walked by, forcing the illusionist back into hiding. When they passed he dashed for it.

Andin played close attention to the meeting’s discussion points. The more information he possessed the more freedom he would be able to garner. It was obvious there was some sort of power play by the admirals in their gods’ absence, something the Brothers were rightfully displeased with.

Fake gently pushed on one of the barrels to check its contents. They were far too heavy to be empty; he would have to get to the other storage area. He withdrew back to the previous ring of defenses to get closer to the other group of barrels. He froze in fear as a group of marines appeared seemingly out of nowhere. They walked by unaware.

“I think the laws we set in place five hundred years ago are quite clear as to how the fleet should operate in our absence, Admiral Verra,” said Qin. “The reports of your subversion against Lady Pria’s direction are grossly upsetting,” added Lin. Verra looked ill, but worse were the two admirals sitting opposite of him, who had yet to face the wrath of the Brothers.

Fake was near his limits when he reached the second storage area. His illusion fell while he hid amongst the containers. What would have normally been an easy task was made exhausting by the limited supply of sand. When he was sure no one was watching Fake’s cloak of shadows extended over one of the empty barrels. He grabbed it and moved for the portal. He threw the first barrel into his canvas and retreated back to the storage area.

“Though dishonorable, your actions do not warrant public humiliation, you will announce your retirement immediately,” said Qin to Verra. Verra looked relieved. “As for you two,” said Qin turning to the two frightened looking admirals. “Your flippant disobedience of multiple orders from your acting Fleet Admiral will not go unpunished,” said Lin.

Fake tossed the second barrel in. He scanned the portal site before taking the third. The marines and magi were still unaware of Fake’s presence. Fake threw the third barrel in and crossed through after it. He made it home. He lay in the soft black sand calming his nerves and saying goodbye to his home, “And that was the easy part.”

Qin and Lin scheduled a disciplinary hearing for the two power hungry admirals. Most at the meeting were dismissed; Andin, Pria, and a handful of the Brother’s most trusted admirals remained. “So Prince Andin, what is it you wish to accomplish during your extended stay in Pelagos,” asked Lin. This would be Andin’s best chance to secure as much freedom as possible.

With a wave of his hand Fake quickly filled the three barrels. “Damn…” said Fake aloud as he realized the barrels were unnecessary. Fake gathered up as much of the sand as he could safely control and formed it into a large transparent cube. The crossing back into Pelagos would be the most dangerous part of the mission.

“Pelagos’ renowned Academy of Sciences would be an ideal place to continue to study the portal-based magic. Svoi’s window to Fake’s Canvas was evidence enough that plane-to-plane communication is feasible. I’d like a teaching position at the Academy in exchange for access to your research facilities there.” Andin’s first request seemed reasonable enough; Lin nodded in tentative agreement before turning to whisper something to his brother.

Fake stepped through the portal with his large cube in tow, like him it wasn’t completely invisible, there were swimming streaks of distortion in the illusion. Fake was lucky; none of the portal guards were looking directly at the portal during his crossing. Fake didn’t have much time to escape before the illusion would fall. He steadily worked his way out of the ring of battlements.

After a whispered discussion Qin spoke first, “We will inform the Dean at the Academy of your arrival – so long as you understand that any progress you make in this area will belong to the Academy and subsequently the Pelagic Navy.”

“I understand, I only wish to make contact with my father in Beldur, open communication between the planes will be critical to our preparation,” said Andin.

Fake was at the outermost ring, the weight of sand and spell tired him greatly. He was running out of time. Unable to hide the sound of his labored breathing Fake moved for the first gap in the defensive wall. One last patrolling marine blocked his exit. When the sentry’s back was turned Fake went for it, but the bulk of the cube in tow pushed Fake too close to the guard.

“Preparation for what prince?” asked Lin.

“The coming darkness,” answered Andin.

A cloud of nervous tension filled the meeting room, the sense of foreboding around the portals had been silently growing over the years, yet none had spoken openly about it as Andin had. “On the high seas superstitious fear can tear a ship apart from within; it would be wise, fire prince, to tread with caution around such ideas,” warned Qin.

The sentry felt the force of Fake’s contact but saw nothing. Fake froze just beyond the reach of the marine. The weight of the cube was almost unbearable, the marine moved towards the strange distortion in the air. “Corporal, are you ready to be relieved?” asked a hidden voice inside the walls. The sentry shrugged off the encounter with the enticing idea of a soft bed and mug of rum. Fake sprinted away. The corporal told his relief to stay alert and took his leave.

“I also ask that my companion Fake be afforded the same hospitality you have graciously offered me – he has a good heart and I will watch after him,” said Andin doing his best to sound cool headed.

“Your friend will accompany you, but you will be responsible for his actions,” said Lin.

“Thank you,” replied Andin.

“However, given the unusual nature of you and your friend’s entry into Pelagos you will be accompanied by one of my officers wherever you go,” stated Qin in a tone that clearly indicated there was no room for negotiation.

A quarter of a mile from the portal site Fake collapsed. A large cube of black sand materialized above his head and dumped into the grass. Fake’s chest rose and fell sharply as he regained his strength. Fake had escaped with enough sand to fill twenty barrels. He laughed at his success.

Andin was worried something like this would happen, but there was no use arguing with Qin. Qin turned to Pria, “Lady Pria, your service during this time of crisis was invaluable, and though the death of Admiral Moro was regrettable you rose to the occasion and kept the fleet intact. As of now you are hereby promoted to Commodore and are to be given your first ship-pair.” Lady Pria glowed with the news.

Fake recovered and gathered his scattered sand; he moved towards the palm tree grove near the beach. He funneled the black sand into the hollow Andin had dug for him. It would stay hidden here until he and Andin could devise an alternative way to store the illusionist’s armament.

Lin leafed through a massive log containing information about the ships in the fleet, “Commodore Gunrow’s ship-pair, the Thresher and Moontide will be your next assignment.” “Milord may I ask what the Thresher and Moontide’s current area of operation is?” asked Pria eagerly. “Gunrow’s ship-pair operated with the Northern Fleet, however you will be given an alternative assignment,” answered Qin.

Fake finished hiding the smuggled sand. He wished he had not moved the barrels in the first place, but going back to his canvas to fix it would be too dangerous. He grabbed his bota and headed to the docks. His first mission was successful, Fake was elated.

Andin and the rest of the officers were dismissed from the meeting. Lady Pria was asked to stay behind to debrief the Brothers officially. Once the room had emptied Qin spoke, “Lady Pria, your ship-pair will be assigned to Prince Andin and the illusionist, you will escort him to the Academy and send us weekly reports on their whereabouts and activity.” Pria’s glow faded. “We trust only you with this task Commodore,” added Lin.

Chapter Twelve – The Thresher and the Moontide

Gunrow was a legend in the Pelagic fleet. He made Commodore at an early age and declined on three occasions the invitation to join the admiralty. Not only was he an impeccable sailor, the maverick possessed a seemingly impossible level of mastery over the complex bureaucratic machinery of the fleet.

No Commodore had ever stayed with the same ship-pair as long as he. Routinely, his best and most experienced sailors conveniently and suspiciously stayed aboard with him years after their normal tour lengths. New sailors with poor aptitude or attitude quickly found themselves working under the command of other Commodores on other ships. Despite her own achievements, Pria felt inadequate in his presence.

“There won’t be a need for formal turnover, my retirement home is in the same group of islands as the Academy, we’ll get done what we need done during the voyage,” said Gunrow to Pria. The two ships were docked side by side, with the Thresher starboard of the Moontide. “This is Captain Dohm, he will be your counterpart aboard the Thresher,” Dohm nodded while he coiled a bundle of line.

It would have been gracious to call the ships well worn, they were seemingly in disrepair. Gunrow watched Pria’s eyes as they jumped from one broken plank to the next. “We do most of our repairs at sea, we drive the ships hard but they can take it,” reassured Gunrow as a large pallet of fresh wood was craned aboard.

Fake and Andin reached the end of the docks where the two ships were anchored. The master at arms escorted them aboard. “Commodore Gunrow, Lady Pria, good morning,” said Andin.

“Fire prince,” nodded Gunrow.

“What are you two doing here?” asked Lady Pria.

Andin looked confused, “We’re going to the Academy of course.”

Pria scoffed, “Do these ships look at all like they are ready to sail?” The Thresher was already beginning to untie herself from the Moontide. “Actually, Lady Pria we are setting sail today,” said Gunrow. Pria could say nothing but look at Gunrow in dismay.

“Your belongings aboard the Bitter Chain have already been brought aboard; you’ll find the men are happier when we pull into… less militarized ports,” said Gunrow hinting at something Pria might find off putting. “Greater Pirenna might just be my least favorite port actually,” he noted. Gunrow relished in Pria’s culture shock.

Four sailors began curling the water alongside the Thresher, pulling her about towards the harbor exit. The Moontide followed suit and followed her little sister out of port. Pria watched carefully as the crew conducted themselves, “Your ship movers also help with the rigging?”

Gunrow nodded, “It’s faster that way.”

The crew nonchalantly went about their business, talking and joking as they executed tricky maneuvers with ease. Gunrow offered no direction at all. If Gunrow was the brain of the operation his deck chief Sorrel were it’s capable hands. The chief occasionally ordered a line changed or a ship mover to adjust the angle of his water flow. The ship-pair exited one of the busiest harbors in Pelagos quickly and cleanly.

Andin and Fake stood near the bow watching the waves crumble under the prow. “Is this your first time at sea?” asked Gunrow as he approached them.

Fake smiled, “Yessir, the water is lovely.”

Andin added, “This is our first time in Pelagos and our first time on a ship.”

Gunrow saw the bright curiosity in Fake’s eyes, “Feel free to direct any questions to the crew, they will be happy to answer.”

Gunrow saw the same eager determination in Andin’s eyes as others saw in himself, “The deck chief can show you to your cabin whenever you like fire prince; the cargo you’ve asked to be brought aboard is secure below decks.”

“Thank you Commodore; how long is the voyage to the Academy?” asked Andin.

“Six or seven days depending on the wind,” said Gunrow.

Gunrow left his two passengers and returned to Pria. The two ships cleared the harbor and opened up their sails. Two of the sailors tied line around their waists and crossed over the deck railing. They hung suspended just over the surface of the water and began sending jets of water at the hull.

Fake went to one of the sailors tending the safety line, “What are they doing?”

The sailor looked to where Fake was pointing and answered, “Knocking barnacles off.” Fake didn’t quite understand and the sailor saw this. He explained what a barnacle was and why it was important to remove them.

Satisfied, Fake reported back to Andin. “Can you do that?” he asked.

“Do what? Control water?” guessed Andin.

“Yeah.”

“All the magical disciplines are related, but the spirit can only ever be devoted to two, mine are fire and earth. I can only do very simple spells with the other elements.”

“What about me?”

“I’ve never seen magic like yours; it’s something we’ll have to study at the Academy.”

“Thank you,” said Fake as swirls of salty air ruffled his hair.

“For what?”

“For bringing me with you, I was really sad before I met you.”

Andin pat Fake on the back, “Let’s get some coffee.”

The two friends sat in their cabin while Andin drank. “No way, it tastes weird,” said Fake refusing a cup.

“Suit yourself, mortals have devised all sorts of clever beverages, you should sample them when you can,” said Andin.

Fake leafed through the beefy text Andin had found for him, “Where should I start?”

“Wherever you like I suppose, each plane has a rich history. The first few years of the Awakening are usually interesting so the beginning might be a good place to start,” answered Andin.

“The Awakening?”

“In Beldur we call it the Rekindling, but it means the same thing. It’s the first few years after the Sundering, when the planes first formed and mankind retook physical form.”

“What about the immortals?” asked Fake.

“That’s less well understood; some think they are reformations of the first four gods’ physical forms. But we just don’t know for sure.”

“You don’t know where you came from?”

Andin smiled and asked, “Do you?” He went on, “Of the little we know about the world before the Sundering it seems that the first gods were distinct from mankind, whereas now an immortal and a mortal are much more similar in appearance and demeanor. Less pure, some would say.”

Fake flipped back towards the beginning of the historical text. Andin sat up from his bunk, spilling a bit of coffee onto the wooden floor. He leaned over Fake at the desk, “Actually you might find the Pelagic Awakening quite interesting, because of the geography I think they were the last civilized plane to locate their portal site.”

Andin leafed through the first few pages quickly, then back to the table of contents. He ran his finger down the soft paper as he read the chapter titles. “Here we are,” he said as he flipped to the second chapter of the second section. “Year seventy-seven the portal site was discovered,” Andin read aloud.

Andin walked back to his own book, “Let me know if you read anything interesting, I don’t know much about Pelagos.” He spilled more coffee as a large wave rocked the ship. A few minutes later Fake became bored of reading and left the cabin to pester the sailors for sea stories. “Hey if those sailors offer you rum don’t drink any without me,” joked Andin. Andin felt paradoxically uncomfortable with how comfortable he was around Fake, the prince was also amazed at how quickly Fake was adjusting.

“No one has been able to give me a straight answer about who you are illusionist,” said Gunrow to Fake. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to either, the portal from Pelagos was the first I had ever seen in my plane,” apologized Fake.

Gunrow relieved the helmsman and took the wheel himself and said, “I didn’t get a chance to visit your plane but I heard it was much like ours.”

“I didn’t have a great ocean, I didn’t even have wind, it was just an endless expanse,” said Fake. Gunrow smiled and said nothing.

Fake scanned the horizon; there was no land in sight. “How do you know where you’re going?” he asked. Gunrow pointed above the moonlit horizon, “Tonight’s voyage is easy, as we are heading due north.”

“You use the stars?” Fake guessed.

Gunrow nodded, “Those two right there are the Matrons, two old sisters who show the way north to wayward sailors.”

“How did they get there?” asked Fake.

“No idea, but awfully convenient to have them pointing north isn’t it?” said Gunrow. Andin joined the two on the bridge still sipping coffee. “Fire prince,” greeted Gunrow.

“Commodore,” answered Andin.

“A rare occurrence to see you free of Lady Pria, Commodore,” noted Andin.

“The Lady slept with the sun – a Commodore taking the midnight watch isn’t something she is used to,” said Gunrow.

“Do you usually take the helm this late?” asked Andin.

“Every night that I could.”

“What will you do after you turn over your ships to Pria?”

“Sleep in and harass my wife.”

Andin retired to the back of the bridge to watch the bioluminescence in the wash compete with the stars for majesty. Gunrow entertained Fake’s curiosity answering his questions about the ship and Pelagos. Gunrow was a patient educator; he enjoyed indulging Fake’s endless barrage of inquiries. In the darkest hours of the morning the trio retired as the next watch took over.

None of the three slept long. By nine o’clock all were awake and back on the bridge. The Thresher had maneuvered closer to her big sister to deliver her daily report. Captain Dohm sent an orb of water bridge to bridge. The ball of water hovered lazily over to the Moontide. Pria caught the ball and retrieved the glass jar suspended in the orb. The water splashed harmlessly on the deck.

In the jar was a loosely rolled parchment. “Do you have any orders for the Thresher Commodore?” she asked.

“No, nothing has changed,” said Gunrow as he waved to the Thresher, signaling that it was okay to sail off again. The deck chief brought up the Moontide’s own report and the two Commodores reviewed them together.

“If both ships have at-sea repairs I schedule them staggered so at least one of us is ready for an engagement if the need arises,” said Gunrow to Pria. They continued to discuss operations as Andin and Fake helped the deck chief with some of the simpler rigging.

“The only fire user we have is on the Thresher, if you don’t mind prince we have some worn harpoons that could use refurbishing below decks,” said the deck chief.

“No, not at all; we like to pull our own weight,” said Andin.

The deck chief gruffed in approval, “You’ll fit right in then.”

The voyage was blessed with good wind and weather. Andin and Fake helped where they could as Pria and Gunrow continued their turnover. On the evening of the fifth day they had reached the first island in the Academy’s archipelago. The tower observatory could be seen shining in the distance.

As the ship-pair sailed closer and closer the stone and glass structure of the Academy grew triumphantly. “Is that where we’ll be staying?” asked Fake. “Unless of course you prefer the ocean,” said Andin only half-jokingly. The two ships swung around the stubby peninsula the Academy sat on and into the docks.

Chapter Thirteen – Hollis is no friend of mine

The ship-pair stopped at the Academy briefly to pick up the Dean of the Academy, who was also Gunrow’s brother. Fake and Andin stayed aboard. They had been invited to attend Gunrow’s retirement ceremony at Breakwater Island. When the Moontide and Thresher returned Lady Pria would be their sole Commodore.

“Are retirement ceremony’s big occasions?” asked Fake.

“Gunrow’s life work was commanding these two ships, in his case very much so a big occasion,” answered Andin.

“I’m Dean Harper, and you must be our new faculty member,” said the Dean as Fake and Andin introduced themselves.

Andin had imagined the Dean would be unpleased at the idea of him teaching at his school, he wanted to make sure his stay there was as easy as possible. “Yes, I wish I could have included you in the discussion but the Brothers were eager to finalize all of my arrangements in one sitting,” said Andin clearly sensing the Dean’s begrudged attitude.

“The Brothers do technically have authority here, though they rarely exercise it.”

“Have you given any thought to what I’ll be teaching?” asked Andin cordially.

“My new faculty typically work as assistants to existing professors before they can teach on their own,” answered the Dean.

“I’ve taught before at the College in Beldur; I’m sure if it were possible Svoi would endorse me.”

The mention of Svoi’s name had a strange effect on Harper. Andin wasn’t quite sure what to make of it but the Dean recomposed himself quickly, “Advanced Fire seems fitting then, I’ve heard you are quite proficient.”

The two ships were back in deep water. The chain of islands was sprawling and the ship-pair was never out of sight of land. Fake left to question the deck chief; he didn’t like Andin acting diplomatically, it wasn’t genuine.

“Might I ask fire prince, why do you wish to teach?” asked the Dean

“Imparting deeper understanding of the magical sciences isn’t just altruism; it’s the best way to deepen your own understanding as well,” Andin said this with conviction.

“The Brothers’ missive to me said we would be delving into portal-type magics.”

“That is correct; if we’re lucky it may be possible to communicate with the other planes.”

“Until I read the reports I didn’t believe such magic was possible.”

“News travels fast here in Pelagos,” said Andin. He was impressed that the Dean already knew so much.

In just a few minutes Andin had converted the frustrated Dean to his side. He never felt quite right going into a conversation with an agenda. Andin left the Dean with his mission accomplished; the seed of trust was planted. The more leeway the better.

“Having him at your schoolhouse might be the best thing that ever happened to it,” said Gunrow to his brother.

“I’m surprised you aren’t more nervous, he could burn your whole ship if he snapped,” answered the Dean.

“Maybe I’ll also come teach at the Academy after I retire,” teased Gunrow.

The idea of enduring his older brother at the Academy silenced Harper. Gunrow broke the hush with a laugh. For the first time in a long time, the two brothers set aside their deep-seated rivalry and just enjoyed the presence of an equal. The two ships sailed northwest. In the morning Pria would officially take command.

**

The Thresher pulled alongside her big sister and the two ships sailed in tight formation. All hands lined the deck as Commodore Gunrow passed command to Pria. Gunrow drew the glass kris blade from its sheath. It was the symbolic weapon of command. The deck chief shouted, “Commodore Gunrow!” The sailors aboard the Thresher and Moontide roared for their beloved Commodore.

The mages and ship movers launched columns of water in salute. The water crashed down and Gunrow passed the blade to Pria. The deck chief roared again, “Commodore Pria!” Another salute washed the party in salty mist. Gunrow saluted Pria. Pria saluted back. The unexpected impact knocked her and half the crew to the deck.

Pria looked at Gunrow confused. Gunrow looked at her and shrugged, “They’re your ships now Lady Pria.” Pria jumped to her feet and ordered the crew, “Get to your stations! Chief, I need eyes on what hit us!” The deck chief sent one of his sailors up to the crow’s nest while he moved to the bridge.

Andin, Fake, and the Dean stood on the bridge trying to stay out of the way of the hurried sailors. Pria turned to the Thresher, “Captain Dohm break off and move ahead of us!” Dohm anticipated her order and had his ship movers already positioned on the side of the Thresher.

The ship movers sent jets of water into the bow of the ship, she turned sharply. They moved to the stern to increase her speed. The sailor in the crow’s nest saw it first, “Big silhouette ma’am, can’t make it out yet.”

Pria nodded, “Harpoons and drums chief; bring the beast to the surface.” The deck chief carried out her orders.

There was a lull in the action and Fake moved alongside Pria at the helm, “What’s happening? What hit us?”

“Sea monster, we need it to surface again so we know what we’re dealing with,” Pria’s voice was commanding and precise.

“Port side, fifty yards!” shouted the lookout. The harpoon men swiveled their guns towards the dark patch of water. “Fire!” ordered the deck chief. The sailors used powerful jets of water to launch the harpoons. Coiled line whipped angrily as the harpoons careened towards their target.

Two of the harpoons connected. “Splash drums!” shouted the deck chief. The sailors shouted back, “Splashing drums!” They hooked two steel drums to the taut lines. The linkage on each drum had angled teeth allowing the drums to slide freely towards the harpoons but not away.

“Break off chief, let’s get the beast between us,” ordered Pria. The Moontide maneuvered aggressively to port. The sea monster dove dragging the drums beneath the waves. “Give her a wide berth until she resurfaces,” said Pria.

One of the harpoons broke free and its drums floated loose to the surface. The second set surfaced next, still attached to the beast. Twin dorsal fins cut the water. “Hollis shark, at least forty yards long,” shouted the lookout. The shark turned towards the Moontide. “It’s coming in to ram us; ready the harpoons and prepare for evasive maneuvers,” ordered Pria.

The Hollis shark’s weapon of choice was its flat bony head which it used to ram whales and ships alike. The shark closed the gap between it and the ship at great speed. “Brace!” screamed the deck chief. Pria angled the ship as best she could to minimize the blow but the impact was tremendous.

Three sailors were sent flying into the water. “Men overboard! Three off the starboard bow!” yelled the lookout. The mages rushed to the bow to bring them back onto the ship. The massive shark spun to eat his quarry. Arcing currents of water hauled two of the sailors back aboard. The third screamed as she was devoured by the shark.

Andin saw his opportunity. “Fake, make a body in front of the beast; draw it away from us,” Andin shouted as he moved amidships and conjured his sickles. Fake uncorked his bota and his black sand swirled into the shape of a sailor flailing in the water. The shark took the bait and turned away from the ship.

Harpoons from both ships sent more steel spikes into the beast. With a fiery burst Andin launched himself off the ship onto to the massive creature. He buried his sickles deep into the shark’s backside. It writhed in agony. Andin clung to the twin dorsal fins as the shark tried to shake him off. Gunrow shouted from the Moontide, “The back of the head, quickly!”

Andin left his sickles and ran up to the shark’s leathery head. He placed his palms together and sent a pillar of piercing fire into the monster’s skull. Its death throes knocked Andin into the water. Steam engulfed the fire prince.

When the steam cleared Andin was treading water wearing a smug grin. “Nice!” congratulated Fake as he jumped overboard to join his friend. The violent conclusion to the Hollis attack was so unexpected that the crew of both ships stood frozen in disbelief. Pria snapped out of the stun when she realized that Fake couldn’t swim.

Andin swam to help his struggling friend. The mages aboard the Moontide were quick to respond and hauled the flailing illusionist out of the water. “Me next if you don’t mind,” asked Andin. The fire prince wrestled his smug grin under control and resumed his role as Beldurian stoic.

Andin turned to his friend, “When we get back to the Academy we’ll get you some swimming lessons.” Fake smiled, “I’m not really sure what I was thinking there.” Gunrow approached the pair with some towels, “Not bad at all you two; those devils can cleave a ship in two if they hit head on.”

“At least in Beldur we can see the beasts we hunt, you don’t have it easy here,” said Andin. Gunrow and Pria helped the two young men up to their feet. Swimmers dove in to cut open the shark’s gullet. They pulled an unconscious and slime soaked sailor from the shark’s stomach, no lives were lost that day.

All hands felt the pleasing numb of narrowly escaped danger. The Thresher rigged the massive shark for towing. Pria turned to Gunrow, “Where’s the nearest place they can harvest it?” Gunrow looked at the surrounding islands to get his bearings, “Opposite of that island is a good beachhead; there is a modest dockyard nearby as well.”

The Moontide pulled alongside the laden Thresher. Pria sent her orders across in the glass jar. She shouted to Dohm, “You’ll have to meet us back at the Academy; it will take the next week just to butcher the shark.” Dohm nodded and ordered his sailors into formation on the deck of the Thresher.

Dohm reflected on the years he had spent with Gunrow. together they had sailed their ships through every danger Pelagos could throw at them. The blue-eyed captain stared at his friend and leader. Gunrow locked eyes with his counterpart and gave him a nod of approval. “Goodbye, friend,” whispered the retiring Commodore.

With a voice that defied the wind and waves Dohm shouted, “For years as our faithful protector and leader, we humbly salute you. Clear skies or angry squall, may the stars guide you home.” Dohm paused to quell the lump in his throat, “Commodore Gunrow!” The sailors saluted.

The Thresher broke off in a lazy arc and headed towards the beach head, Hollis shark in tow. Gunrow watched the Thresher sail off from the bridge. Pria nor his brother knew how to comfort such an abrupt goodbye.

Pria ran the Moontide and her crew through their paces. Her plan to run trials with the Thresher had been postponed. Andin and Fake stuck to themselves for the rest of the journey. After the fourth day Breakwater Island was in sight.

The Moontide pulled into the small port in the early evening. The reverence held for Gunrow was endemic and the whole crew enjoyed royal treatment. Fake and Andin had more formal attire prepared for them from the island’s tailor. Andin clad in the dark greys and reds of Beldur, Fake in a white and silver tunic of his own design.

The retirement ceremony was made bearable for Gunrow by the hero’s welcome he received and continued to receive from his hometown. His crisp uniform was comically overburdened with medals and awards. As he desired, the ceremony was short and the celebration long. The drink flowed into the early morning.

The deck chief and Andin conspired to make sure Fake’s bed wasn’t empty that night. Fake enjoyed the attention – but enjoyed the rum more. The deck chief leaned to Andin as Fake began dancing with the locals and the crew, “Fire prince I think we may be rigging sails on a sinking ship.”

Andin sipped his rum and shrugged, “We have a saying in Beldur: sleeping volcanoes have no hot springs.”

The two continued enjoying watching Fake’s drunken spiral until a buxom woman stole the deck chief away. “Fire prince,” said the deck chief tilting his cup as a goodbye.

“Chief,” nodded Andin raising his glass.

“When we’re not on the ship please call me Sorrel.”

Andin wished Chief Sorrel a good night and left after Fake’s company guided the stumbling illusionist to the inn. The prince wandered around the village until the festivities finally died down. He sat alone at the edge of the docks stargazing. “Feeling out of place fire prince?” asked Gunrow who joined him.

“Trouble sleeping Commodore?” asked Andin

“I can’t sleep on land, not since I first stepped foot on a ship.”

“I’m no stranger to portal crossing, but this will be my first time away after the closing,” said Andin answering Gunrow’s first question.

“I’ve been to every corner of Pelagos, but I’ve never crossed through.”

“Why not?”

“The Navy was my life, any free time I had I spent with my family. Besides, my skill is at the helm, not in foreign planes.”

“Will you go now?”

“I hope to, I don’t think I’ll keep my sanity if I stay idle for the rest of my days.”

“Good, I don’t think your work is done just yet,” Andin said looking at Gunrow worried.

“You feel it too?” asked Gunrow. The old sailor had felt the feeling of doom at the portal site as so many others had.

“It’s not just here; it is the same in Beldur and Ventisma.”

Chapter Fourteen – An empty desk

Fake and Andin were given a faculty dormitory to share. There were a few pieces of worn furniture already in the room. “That’s you,” said Andin pointing to the right room. “That’s me,” pointing to the left.

“Looks a bit like the inn at Breakwater,” commented Fake. “A bit nicer too,” he added. Fake paused his tour, remembering the constant teasing from Andin and Sorrel for his drunken spectacle at the same inn. Fake saw Andin’s predatory face, “Don’t even start.”

Andin feigned innocence, “I didn’t say anything.” The two quickly bored of their bare dorm and set to wandering the campus.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do while you’re here?” asked Andin.

“Chief said I could work on the ship if I wanted to, but I think there is something I need to do here,” answered Fake.

“What’s that?”

“My memories from before the Sundering,” Fake tapped on his head, “There’s got to be something useful in here and Dean Harper said I could have access to the Academy Archives.”

“Let me know what you find,” Andin quietly doubted Fake would have the patience to lock himself in a stuffy book closet.

With Sorrel’s help they managed to unload the two smuggled barrels of Fake’s sand from under Pria’s nose. Andin figured the Brothers would eventually discover what they had done, but the longer it took the better. When the deck chief left them Andin reburied the barrels.

“You don’t trust the chief?” asked Fake.

“Only the chief and Gunrow know about these barrels; they can speculate at their contents but let’s not confirm anyone’s suspicions,” said Andin as he buried the barrels much deeper nearby.

“Can you still feel it?” asked Andin.

Fake approached the narrow shaft, the barrels shook as he extended his hand, “Yes.”

Satisfied, Andin commanded a river of sand and soil back into the hole.

“A useful trick,” noted Fake.

“It’s a running joke in Kato,” said Andin. “So many people have buried their secrets in obscure and soon forgotten locations that to say you are ‘buried’ there is to say you are lost or confused,” he explained. They headed back to the Academy.

Dean Harper ran into them in the main corridor. “Come with me please,” he said. He pointed to a large set of wooden double doors, “Here is the campus library, within are all our records, I’ve informed our archivist about you two.” The three continued on quickly down the main corridor.

“And here,” said Harper stopping at another set of doors. He continued, “These doors lead to the faculty laboratories, where you will be doing your research with some of my staff Prince Andin.” A sign hung on the door forbidding students from entering the faculty labs unaccompanied.

The tour continued through the stone and glass hallway. Dean Harper stopped to point out each place as they passed them. The hallway ended with another set of doors, “In here is the administrative office, my office, and the observatory above us.”

The Dean handed Andin a worn folder filled with papers. “What’s this?” asked Andin.

“Your rosters and course material, one of my professors was called to the fleet unexpectedly and you’ll be teaching two of his magical science courses in addition to Advanced Fire.”

Andin looked through the schedule, “I’m only teaching three classes?”

“The Brothers have expressed a desire to keep as much as your time directed at the portal research,” answered the Dean.

“I’ll need one of your astronomers on the team as well,” said Andin remembering the long laundry list of staff and lab equipment he sent to the Academy.

“I’ll let her know,” said the Dean. His impromptu tour concluded and Harper left the two young immortals.

“Let’s check it out,” said Fake already climbing the stairs up to the observatory. Andin shrugged and followed him up. “This is like what we made in my world isn’t it?” asked Fake pointing at the telescope.

“Yes, just much bigger,” answered Andin.

Fake walked around the large telescope in awe, fingering the metal rivets disguised as chocolate drops.

“These teeth let it rotate so you can look anywhere you like,” said Andin pointing out the large gearing at the base of the telescope.

“What do you look at with it, other planes?” guessed Fake.

“Oh no, it’s for looking at stars and planets.”

“How do you look at the other planes?”

“Well you can’t, no one is really sure where they are in relation to each other.”

Fake looked through the eyepiece and frowned, “I can’t see anything.”

“It’s daytime; you need a dark and clear night. More importantly,” Andin grabbed Fake’s shoulder pulling him away from the eyepiece. Fake looked confused. Andin pointed up. Fake looked up for a moment deciphering Andin’s gesture, Fake smiled when he realized it, “Oh this ceiling opens up doesn’t it?”

Andin rolled his eyes, “Yes, we’ll come back tonight before the moon rises.

The two friends spent the rest of the day marauding the Academy. Andin had slowly filled his classroom with goods taken from long forgotten cupboards and closets. Fake walked into the room, “Where did you find that monster?” Andin looked up from the broken percolator he was fixing.

“The chair? My secret – but there weren’t any extras if that’s what you were wondering,” answered Andin.

Fake sunk into the comically large upholstered throne, “Are you teaching them or lording over your subjects?”

Andin grinned, “Well, both really.”

Fake uncorked his bota and made himself an exaggerated crown and scepter.

Andin bowed, “Milord.”

“Your plebeian cloths disgust me commoner – and you failed your exam,” said Fake sternly.

Andin fought the laughter and approached Fake with a grimace. He grabbed Fake’s collar and conjured one of his sickles slowly and dramatically, “Long live the king.”

Without missing a beat Fake calmly added, “I’m sorry but there simply will not be any opportunities for extra credit.”

Andin lost his composure and the two filled the room with laughter. The prince returned to his salvaged percolator. Fake opened the roster folder, “You know I think teaching sounds fun.”

Andin reattached the spigot to the brass body, “It is – it’s very rewarding.”

Fake slumped in the chair skimming the rosters, “Your alternative magics classes are pretty full.”

“It’s a required course for first years; how many are in Advanced Fire?” asked Andin who hadn’t looked at the numbers yet. Fake flipped through a few pages as Andin peered inside the main reservoir. The fire prince made a sour face discovering a small forest of mold.

“Eight,” answered Fake. Andin sent a puff of flame to clean the inside.

“How many did you say?” asked Andin.

“Eight,” repeated Fake.

“Must not be a very popular discipline,” said Andin.

**

The week passed quickly as the two adventurers settled in. Fake and Andin met with most of the faculty as they trickled in from the far reaches of Pelagos. The students followed suit and came in droves through the weekend. The fall session would start the coming Wednesday.

Andin met with the research staff; they agreed to begin work in earnest a week after things got settled in in their classrooms. Fake frequented the archives more and more, he took to smuggling the books out to the beach where he found it more pleasurable to read.

Wednesday morning a stream of young faces entered Andin’s classroom. Andin introduced himself and wrote his name on the blackboard, Andin son of Bellos, of Beldur. “Please address me as professor or prince,” Andin reached for the roster.

He began reading names. The class rattled off a steady staccato of presents and heres. Andin reached the middle of the list and paused. “Nina Prestle?” he asked with a strange look, as if he didn’t believe the name he was reading. There was no response. One of the boys raised his hand. “Yes, go ahead,” said Andin.

“Professor, Nina is from the same island as I am, she and her family were murdered this summer,” said the boy.

Andin hid his shock at the news, “What happened?”

“A strange man came to the island one night, he killed all three of them, the town guard heard the screams and found him just standing there as if he were waiting for them to take him away,” answered the student. “Nothing like that had ever happened on our island before, Mr. Prestle was a really nice man; they say the man who killed them was thrown into the void.”

Andin looked upset and confused. The class was perfectly silent, their minds full of exaggerated stories of Beldurians exploding. The prince made a tight fist, “What was the father’s name?” “Marth Prestle sir.”

Andin wanted to shake the boy for every scrap of information he knew, show some damned restraint, he ordered himself. The frightful tension of the classroom broke his inner turmoil. He finished reading the roster. All were present save Nina Prestle.

Andin’s focus drifted as he autonomously wrote the magical disciplines on the board. Nina Prestle, daughter of Marth Prestle. Marth Prestle. A man in a dream. A man Andin was supposed to kill. The successor to Nobleman Eilef. Who killed him and why? Andin regained his focus. He was in control again.

“So who here is planning on taking on a second discipline?” asked Andin. Most of the class raised their hands. Andin followed up with “Who knows which one?” Only a few hands remained. “After you have completed this course you will be better equipped to make that choice.” Andin concluded, “Though that choice will never be an easy one to make.”

A student’s hand rose. Andin looked at her and she spoke, “Professor what are your disciplines?” “Who knows the element of Beldur?”

Another student answered, “Fire sir.”

“Correct,” said Andin and his right hand caught fire.

“And the formal name of the Plane of Earth?”

A tall skinny boy answered, “Kato.”

“Quite right,” replied Andin as his left hand turned to a fist of stone. “My job is to teach you about the magics you didn’t grow up with; the strengths and limitations of each, a few simple demonstrative spells, and how they could synergize with your principle.”

“Is there anyone in the room whose principle is not water magic?” No one answered. Andin kept the first day’s lesson short and dismissed the class early. He sipped coffee at his desk staring at the roster. The impact of the Prestle family’s death still rattled him. He swirled his cup until the coffee clung only to its inner walls.

He thumbed the dull crystal around his neck. He wished he could talk to his father. A week until the portal research started seemed like a lifetime now. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, he thought. He needed to tell Fake.

“Excuse me, are you the professor for Advanced Fire?” asked a voice.

Andin let go of his crystal and sat up. “Yes I am, I thought the upperclassmen didn’t begin until Monday,” answered Andin surprised at the interruption.

“Oh I know, I took fire as my second discipline a long time ago, I’m in your class,” said the girl.

“Class won’t start until Monday, I’ll see you then,” said Andin hoping she would leave.

“Well it’s just – is there any way I can get my textbook now so I can start studying?”

Andin waved her in, “In the back on the top shelf.”

She moved in the flowing, mesmerizing way characteristic of Pelagic natives. Her presence calmed the prince’s troubled mind. She left the classroom quickly, “See you on Monday professor.” Thinking of the girl made Andin think of home. He let out a long sigh.

Chapter Fifteen – Men who must be killed

“Do you want to know why I was planning on coming to Pelagos?”

“Yes,” answered Fake.

Andin leaned in, “Let’s take a walk.”

The two walked in silence from the Academy to a strip of private sand. Fake uncorked his bota “Do you want me to hide us?”

Andin shook his head, “As long as we’re not heard we’re fine.” For the first time since Andin had met the illusionist Fake had the same serious look Andin wore. “I came here to kill someone,” said Andin.

“Who?”

“Marth Prestle.”

“Why?”

“He had a dream.”

“That’s it?” Fake couldn’t understand how a dream could be a death sentence.

“It was a message.”

“What was the message?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who was it from?”

With weight Andin answered his friend, “Odium.”

Fake knew this name; it struck a chord in the corners of his mind. The broken memories from the old world offered little clue. “Blind hatred,” he said expressing the feeling the memories gave him.

“The original, the corruptor, the beast who broke the world,” said Andin ominously.

“He sent a message through a dream?” asked Fake.

“Yes, and Prestle wasn’t the first.”

“Who else?”

“One other that I know of, a Nobleman in the Plane of Light.”

“You killed him?”

“Yes.”

Fake looked confused, “How could you know their dreams?”

Andin paused for a moment. It was no longer simply a matter of trusting Fake. Saying more would irrevocably intertwine their fates. Fake saw his friend’s mental struggle, “It’s okay if you need time, what did you need help with?”

“Marth Prestle is already dead; someone killed him and his family already. I don’t know why, maybe for the same reasons as me. It happened recently, the archives won’t have any records of it yet. I need you to find out whatever you can about it – secretly.”

Fake nodded, “I can do that; I need something from you too.”

“What is it?”

“Teach me how to fight.”

Andin smirked, “Gladly.”

Fake had already uncorked his bota anticipating the attack. He leapt over the wall of stone Andin was creating behind him. “Good – ready at a moment’s notice,” complimented the prince.

“Your hands gave you away,” shouted Fake. Andin moved forward to pursue his sparring partner. Fake’s sand swirled towards Andin and engulfed him in a tube of mirrors.

Andin paused before overriding his instincts. He stepped through the mirrors to continue the chase. Fake recalled the black sand and created illusions of himself. Andin wasn’t sure which one was really his friend. His solution was to attack all of them. He knelt and drove his hands into the sand. Pillars of sandstone erupted from the beach smashing into the mirages.

The Fakes managed to dodge the first wave but the ferocity of the second attack was inescapable. The pillars passed harmlessly through all of Andin’s targets. “Damn,” Andin had barely finished cursing when a small cloud of black sand smashed into his head. Andin was knocked on his back. Fake stood over his friend looking smug. “That’s a new trick,” said Andin. Fake helped him up.

“If I keep the sand tightly packed I can hit you with it,” said Fake.

“Well we’re certainly off to a good start of me teaching you,” said Andin dryly. They headed back towards the academy. The sun had almost finished setting by the time they reached the main corridor.

“Observatory?” asked Fake.

“Again?”

“I like it,” replied Fake.

“Sure but I think we should wait an hour.”

They parted ways and Andin returned to his classroom. The dreamy textbook girl was sitting at a desk reading. She didn’t hear Andin come in and jumped when he spoke. “You don’t have a desk in your dormitory?” asked Andin.

Frazzled, she responded, “Oh professor, sorry, usually they allow us into empty classrooms to study, I’ll leave if you want.”

“No, that’s fine, just clean it when you’re done please,” said Andin pointing at the percolator. The girl nodded just a bit excessively. Andin grabbed the papers on his desk and left the room. He headed to his room feeling anxious; he couldn’t stop thinking of Marth Prestle.

Andin entered his dormitory expecting to find Fake there. It was empty. He flipped open his chronometer. The fire prince grabbed a book to pass the time. An hour later the door cracked open. “Hey are you ready? It’s dark enough now,” said an eager Fake.

Walking down the hallway Andin eyed Fake with friendly suspicion, “Where did you go?”

Fake squinted, exaggerating Andin’s face, “Where did you get the giant chair?”

“I told you there was only one,” answered Andin.

Fake’s new jacket melted off his shoulders. The black sand formed into chair after chair lining the hallway. “Liar,” accused Fake.

“No more bota?” asked Andin.

“People kept eyeing it; I don’t think it is common practice to carry liquid with you here, unless its alcohol,” answered Fake. A student fell trying to avoid the maze of faux chairs.

The chairs dissolved back into the shape of Fake’s new jacket. “He’ll be fine,” said Andin to a worried looking Fake who watched the student run off embarrassed. The pair reached the end of the main corridor. They climbed the staircase up to the observatory. Andin smelled tea brewing.

The dome had been opened and a woman was looking through the telescope taking notes. “Hello,” said Fake.

“The observatory is closed to students until next week,” said the woman still glued to the eyepiece.

“We’re not students,” said Andin.

She looked up. “Oh you are the prince from Beldur,” she said unwrinkling her dress. She extended her hand, “I am Professor Percaphia Blanca; I teach astronomy.”

Andin shook her hand, “Andin son of Bellos of Beldur.”

She shook Fake’s hand next.

“Fake of Fake’s Canvas,” said the illusionist playing along.

“Most call me Perc; what brings you two to the observatory?” she asked.

“Looking through the telescope is fascinating,” answered Fake excitedly.

“Well, I’m just about done with my measurements so if you’ll allow me to finish I’ll give you the full galactic tour in a moment,” replied Perc.

Andin waited patiently while Fake hovered over the professor. Between each of her carefully annotated measurements Fake would inject a question about what she was doing. After a few minutes of this Perc snapped, “Please, if you’ll just give me a few minutes of peace I’ll be happy to answer your questions after I’m finished.”

Fake scurried off towards Andin who had conjured up a small bird of flame. The bird fluttered then spiraled towards the ground crashing in a puff of smoke. In retaliation Fake made a tiny visage of Andin being devoured by a monster.

Perc finished her work and called Fake and Andin over. “We were looking at the Matrons last time,” said Fake.

“Lovely, there is a nebula just next door,” said Perc. The astronomy professor had calmed down from Fake’s earlier pandering. She expertly turned the handles which slowly angled the telescope towards the pair of stars.

“There – just below them is the Sleeping Bride nebula,” said Perc waving at Fake to look through the eyepiece.

“Oh it does look like someone sleeping, gorgeous,” noted Fake.

Andin looked next through the lens and for a moment he felt sadness for her, “Why do they call her the bride?”

Perc answered and adjusted the telescope to the next starry scene, “They say she sleeps to escape from the grief of a lost husband.” Perc gave the elevation wheel one last crisp quarter turn, “Here take a look.”

In the infinite distance Fake saw the small shape of a ringed planet, “It’s beautiful.”

The three carried on like this for hours with Percaphia as their guide. She was an eager teacher and interest in astronomy beyond ship navigation was slim. She relished in sharing her passion with anyone who would listen. It wasn’t until two past midnight did Andin think to check his time piece.

“Well I have class in the morning so if you two don’t mind I’m going to get a bit of rest,” Andin excused himself and left the observatory. He walked down the wide vacant hallway accompanied only by his tapping footsteps.

Three hours of sleep would be plenty; he planned to wake early in the morning and exercise. The sun and the fire prince often rose as a pair. Fake’s bed was still empty. Andin sipped his coffee and shrugged it off, he knew Fake now well enough to know his friend was a bit of a wanderer.

The dawn’s air still held on to the evening chill. Andin ran along the coastline. He hauled two large spheres of magma alongside. After a half mile the strain was unbearable and he let the spheres crash into the sand. He repeated this task until utterly spent.

The sun had cleared the horizon and Andin sat in the wash letting the ocean cool him. He thought about Fake, the prince was baffled by the enigma of his dear friend. The morning classes went by quickly. In the afternoon Andin inspected the laboratory assigned to the portal research. It was large and empty. Andin made a short procurement list for the laboratories manager. He knew most of the research was going to be brutish trial-and-error at first; a sophisticated lab wasn’t needed yet.

The week passed by without incident. Andin taught, trained, and studied. Fake disappeared, researched, and caused mischief. Perc continued her tour of the stars with the boys. Pria met with Dean Harper to prepare her weekly report on their activities.

Chapter Sixteen – Salvaged secrets of Pelagos.

“We need to go with them,” said Fake pointing at the Thresher and Moontide.

Andin agreed, “I am going a little stir crazy.” The two headed to their dorm room to gather some belongings. Fake and Andin liked to tag along with the ship-pair over the weekends when they could. The sixth week at the academy was a three day weekend.

Fake continued, “It’s not just that – this job is special.”

“Why is that?” asked Andin.

“Every chain of islands releases a quarterly report of local criminal activity: piracy, looting, murder, you name it. The Prestle family murder was listed, but criminal matters that go to the Naval Courts only publicly release the crime, verdict, and punishment. Our guy was thrown over the edge of Pelagos into the void the last month of summer.”

“What does this have to do with the ship-pair?” asked Andin.

“The court hearing for him was held at a local Naval Fort. A copy of all of the documents and records associated with the case are kept there. In fact I was planning on going there soon to steal them for you. While casing the job I was going through some shipping manifests and saw a large collection of tribunal documents being sent to the main naval archives at Lesser Pirenna.”

Andin questioned his friend, “You think we’ll run into the courier ship this weekend?”

“The very ship in question sank two months ago in a storm, just after school started.” Excitement grew in Fake’s voice, “Salvage missions are reserved for permanently stationed ship-pairs. Guess where she sank?”

Andin was impressed, “I’m guessing not very far from here.”

Fake nodded, “Just east of the island chain; and I can think of only one permanently assigned ship-pair in the area.”

“Considering you are telling me this now, I’m guessing Pria has a salvage dive planned for this weekend,” said Andin.

“There’s no guarantee that the court documents we want are down there, but it’s less of a risk than trying to break into a naval fort.”

The pair walked up the gangplank and saluted the master at arms. Deck Chief Sorrel greeted them in his usual fashion with a teasing threat, “We usually let stowaways swim home.”

“Mind if we tag along this weekend?” asked Andin. Chief pointed to Lady Pria standing on the bridge. The deck chief knew she would say yes but was duty bound to have them ask.

The ships’ keels were now thickly armored with the harvested ram from the Hollis shark. “Your girls look menacing,” said Andin to Pria.

“Prince Andin, Fake, come to offer a hand?” answered Pria.

“With your permission ma’am,” answered Fake.

“As usual your assistance is welcome,” answered Pria. She enjoyed their company and their presence helped flesh out her weekly reports beyond the repetitive ‘They’re still at the Academy’. The ships pushed away from the docks.

“Where are we going this time?” asked Fake coyly.

Pria told them about the planned salvage dive. The site was nearby; it was a short half day sail to the wreck. By mid afternoon the Moontide had dropped anchor near the sunken courier ship. Before the salvage operation could begin in earnest the site needed to be surveyed.

Diving gear was brought from below decks. The deckhands created a small barge out of the two life rafts. Swimmers jumped into the water and began their search. Soon one swimmer conjured an arrow of water over his head, signaling he had found the wreckage. “There we go,” said Pria.

Chief Sorrel ordered his ship movers to reposition the Moontide nearer and two more anchors were dropped. The folded crane arms were unpacked and rigged. Pria climbed the ladder down to the diving barge. “Splash the first bell,” she ordered. The brass diving bell hung suspended beneath the surface, held by Pria’s magic.

She turned to her diver, “Are you ready?” He told her yes and they fitted their bug-eyed goggles. Pria would guide the bell as it sank, using its weight to aid their own descent. The diver was studied in wind magic and would conjure air for both of them.

Pria stopped the bell before it reached the bottom. She signaled her diver and he conjured a large ball of air underneath the bell. This sent a purging bubble up the hose. On the surface the bubble was the signal to take the slack out of the chain and begin pumping air.

The chain tightened and the bell hung suspended just above the sea floor. The mages on the ship steadily pumped air into the bell. Pria and her diver breathed easily in it. The diver rested from the fatiguing task of conjuring air underwater while Pria swam the seventy feet back to the surface.

With the first bell in place work was much easier for the salvage crew. The Moontide splashed another bell. Once both bells on the Moontide were in place the Thresher sent in her divers on the opposite end of the wreckage.

Fake and Andin watched while the crews moved deliberately and efficiently. A steady grid of bubbles floated to the surface from the diving bells. Pria handed Andin a weighted belt and goggles, “Let’s go for a swim.”

Andin removed his tunic and climbed down to the barge. He took a big swallow of air and stepped into the ocean. The fire prince descended spiraling around the chain and hose connected to the first diving bell. After reaching the bottom he cleared his ears one last time and entered the metal dome.

The smooth lines of the courier ship hinted at its speed even underwater. “It looks fast,” said Andin looking through one of the bell’s small windows. “I think we do a good job with the pirates and sea monsters, but the Naval Post is the unsung hero of the fleet,” said Pria.

“What’s next?” asked Andin.

“Now that we have four air sources down we can start surveying the site up close, if it seems worthwhile we will rig the whole ship to be raised – but judging by the way she’s sitting it might just be cargo and instruments that we recover.”

Bags of salvage gear were lowered from above. Andin was more restricted than Pria or the other divers; he had to return to the bells for each breath. The water and wind users could stay down for much longer, keeping bubbles of air with them or creating it as needed.

The dive crew methodically covered the wreckage. Starting from the bow and working aft the salvage team took measurements with knotted line and scratched notes onto thin slates. Pria and the more proficient divers worked the innards of the vessel returning one after another to the diving bells to recover their strength.

Andin’s ventures lengthened with each trip. Soon he managed to poke around inside the downed ship. The experience was surreal for the Beldurian; the schooling fish, the hovering rays, and the curious sharks, all had an enchanting fluidity that the prince was dazzled by.

As the light faded to dusk Pria gave the signal to return to the surface. In pairs the salvage crew rose through the water column. “They’re barely kicking,” noted Andin.

In the echo of the diving bell Pria explained, “They command the water to move them, it’s easier that way.”

“Exhale as you rise,” said Pria before dunking her head back into the water. Andin took a breath and slowly kicked his way to the surface. The sun kissed the horizon as the fire prince and commodore reached the surface.

“How was it?” asked Fake eagerly.

“It was amazing,” answered Andin. The mages stopped operating the pumps only until all the swimmers were accounted for. The ships went quiet quickly after the sun set; diving operations were long and tiring days for the crew.

In hushed tones Fake asked, “Did you see anything?”

Andin whispered back, “Even if I did we’re going to have to wait until the cargo is loaded – there’s no room for secrecy down there.” Andin told Fake all he had seen then fell asleep shortly after.

The salvage crew returned to work as soon as the sun allowed it. Back underwater Andin helped cut open the jammed cargo doors. Bags of line and long canvas sacks were lowered to the dive site. One team of divers began moving pallets of cargo from the wreckage. Another bundled them with line and tied a canvas sack atop the pallets.

Chief Sorrel replaced Pria as today’s dive master. “What are the sacks for?” asked Andin. The chief tapped on the glass of the bell and explained, “We’ll fill them with air and float the pallets up; the ship movers can grab them from there.”

“My divers don’t have time to babysit, make sure he stays in the bell,” said the chief looking up through the glass. Andin ducked out of the bell to get a better view. Two swimmers escorted Fake down, keeping his head in a large bubble. The bubble reached the diving bell and Fake puddled inside.

Andin and Sorrel left to make room for the two escorts and Fake. The escort swimmers left for the surface and Andin returned to the bell. “Glad you could make it,” said Andin.

Fake smiled with his nose against a window, “This is incredible, it’s like a whole different world.”

A diver paid out a spool of hose connected to one of the diving bells. He pumped air into the first lifting sack. It slowly inflated and the cargo gently rose from the seafloor. The surface swimmers and ship movers loaded the cargo onto the deck.

“Clever,” said Andin. He swam to the line of pallets and tapped the diver inflating the canvas bags. Andin raised his hand as it started to glow with heat. A flood of steam bubbles rushed from his hand. The diver understood and gave Andin the okay sign.

The diver held the sack open as Andin quickly filled it with steam. The second pallet rose topside. Andin and the diver returned to the nearer diving bell. They watched as the surface crew pulled the package out of the water. The diver said to Andin, “This is much faster,” and left the diving bell.

One after another bundles of cargo were sent to the surface until the courier ship was nearly empty. Suddenly, Sorrel gave the signal to cease operations immediately. The divers all returned to their bells.

Fake asked, “What happened?”

Andin shrugged – he didn’t know.

The diver in their bell answered, “Pirates or a sea monster.” The three looked up; there was no new silhouette on the surface. The diver shrugged casually, “Sea monster then.”

Fake added, “All the fish are gone.”

Andin asked the diver, “What do you do if there’s a monster?”

The diver maintained his bizarre nonchalance, “Try not to die I guess.” Slowly their grubby shapes took form in the distance. “Sail mites,” said the diver. The mites were big and slow – crawling steadily towards the wreckage. “They’re migrating north, we don’t have much time now,” he added.

“They look harmless,” said Fake.

“The drones are – but not the soldiers,” answered the diver.

Sorrel gave the signal to resume work and swam to Fake’s bell. He took a moment to catch his breath, “Time to go back up illusionist.”

Sorrel and the diver swam Fake up to the surface. He explained the situation to Lady Pria, “Sail mite migration ma’am, they’re on the move straight through our salvage site.”

She nodded in understanding, “We’ll find the queen and let you know how much time you have.”

The first mite in the train reached the wreckage. The pace of the crew quickened as more and more cargo floated to the surface. Periodically, a mite drone would stop to feed, letting out her huge sails of feeding filter. More mites marched past.

Sorrel found the bell Andin was resting in, “Prince, my men can finish inflating the lifting bags, I need you below decks to cut out the cartographer.” Sorrel took two bubbles of air from the diving bell with him. The pair swam to where the bridge used to be.

The metal cartographer was bolted to the collapsed bridge deck. Andin carefully cut each one. As his breath ran out he waved to Sorrel, bringing the bubble of air. Andin breathed deeply and finished the work. Sorrel escorted him back to the bell. The whole area was littered with giant sail mite drones.

Andin gasped in the diving bell, pushing as much air into his lungs as he could. “We can take it from here,” said Sorrel. Andin stayed in the bell watching the crew strip everything of value from the courier ship. Recovered, the prince headed back to the row of cargo pallets and inflated more bags.

A pair of swimmers rushed down from the surface to Chief Sorrel. “The queen and her soldiers are only a half mile away, you have ten minutes.” The chief cracked a vial of black dye and shaped the number ten in the water over the divers. He made sure Andin raised the cartographer before any other cargo.

The chief’s eyes jumped back to the large dive clock on his diving bell. He cracked another vial of dye and drew a large five. Andin could only raise a few bundles before returning to the bell for air. The divers with the hoses were even slower. There simply wasn’t enough time to get them all.

With the queen and her soldiers nearly on them Sorrel gave the signal to surface immediately. He waited on the bottom until he saw all his swimmers safely ascending. The sail mite queen and her entourage overwhelmed the dive site, crushing the broken vessel.

The aggressive soldier mites clamped onto the rising diving bells. The crane arms moaned from the weight. “Chief, don’t lose my diving bells,” ordered Pria. Divers from both ships armed themselves for underwater combat. Andin tread water watching the subsurface ballet.

The divers kept their distance from the snapping jaws of the soldier mites. Methodically, they darted around the enemy probing the weak points in their armor. The fight was a slow motion affair. Swords cut and water hammered the soldier mites.

There was no communication between the divers. Their deadly choreography was the result of years of disciplined and dangerous training. The divers’ attacks looked effortless, the surest sign of skill. It was quite the show for the fire prince. One by one the soldier mites were defeated. One by one the diving bells were freed.

Chapter Seventeen – A semester nearly finished.

“Records going to the Naval Archive are kept in glazed bottles sealed with wax,” whispered Fake in the unlit cargo hold. Andin scanned each bundle of cargo with a small flame guiding his eyes. The ship was utterly silent as the whole crew save the midnight watch slept soundly.

After an hour of searching they had checked each parcel twice. “It’s not here,” said Fake.

“Were they loading cargo on to both ships?” asked Andin.

“They were,” answered Fake.

Andin said nothing while mulling the situation over. “What happens to salvaged cargo?” he whispered. Andin had learned to voice his inner questions to Fake; the illusionist had an ever growing repertoire of curious facts and interesting figures.

“It gets put on the next courier ship in port; the navigation equipment goes to the shipyards for refurbishing.”

“Do you have enough sand to hide one of the rowboats?”

“No, not nearly enough.”

“Can you just cover one side?” asked Andin.

“The boat would still be missing, the watch would see that.”

Andin said nothing – if there was any chance of being discovered the Brothers would have them under surveillance constantly. Fake searched through the cargo hold. The illusionist grinned, “Andin come here.” Fake gripped an empty barrel tucked in the corner.

“It’ll tip over,” said Andin unimpressed.

Fake bent over and grabbed a handful of ballast stones, “Not if you’re holding it steady – besides I need you to pull me through the water.”

Andin couldn’t think of any alternatives, “If you make any mule jokes, you drown.”

They left through the side cargo door. Andin lowered Fake down to the water with a ballast stone and then himself. Water lapped up a few inches from the lip of the barrel. Fake’s jacket dissolved into a shroud concealing them.

They headed towards the Thresher. Progress was easy, but the vastness of the nighttime ocean frightened the fire prince. There was no way of knowing what lurked in the depths below. Fake kept eyes on the Moontide, Andin on the Thresher.

They reached the forward anchor chain of the Thresher. Andin held the barrel steady as Fake climbed up the chain, “Good luck.” The cloud hiding the two thieves wrapped around Fake making him nearly invisible. Andin waited anxiously for the side door of the Thresher to open.

Andin was sure something was swimming around his legs.

“Hey come on,” whispered Fake after what seemed to be an eternity.

“What took you so long?” grumbled Andin.

“This ship is weird,” said Fake as if he had seen things he was not meant to see. Andin wasn’t sure what he meant but was refocused on the mission now free of the ocean’s dreadful unknowns.

The cargo hold of the Thresher was half the size of the Moontide’s. They set to work searching for their prize. Finally, Fake broke the silence, “Here,” he said. Three glazed jars were sealed with green wax. Andin carefully melted the wax into his cupped hand. Fake removed a rolled scroll and began reading it. “Carmen Island Naval Fort Tribunal – this is it, grab all of them.”

Andin resealed the jar to protect the documents during their return. Andin lowered himself into the water and waved to Fake, “Come on.”

“The cargo door can’t be locked from the outside, I’ll meet you at the anchor chain,” said Fake.

Andin swam back to the bow as Fake shut the door. He waited patiently clutching the barrel and the rusty chain. He saw the subtle ripples of Fake’s illusion and said, “Climb in.” Fake reappeared and sat in the barrel.

“Let’s go,” said Fake giddy from the fun of sneaking and slinking. Andin couldn’t shake a feeling that something was wrong. He looked at both ships; both were quietly rocking. They returned to the Moontide without incident.

The prince saw what had been bothering him in the back of his mind, they had left the side cargo hatch wide open. By fate or blind luck it seemed that the night watch hadn’t noticed the large open door. They climbed back aboard. The mischief makers hid their prize and headed to the bridge.

A sailor greeted them, “Evening gentlemen; Lady Pria said you two might pop up here during the midwatch.” The boys chatted with the crew for a while before returning to their cabin. They hid it from the sailors but they were both exhausted. Sleep came easy.

In the morning the ships drew anchor and headed back to the Academy. Both Fake and Andin felt confident they had gained the court documents undetected and agreed to wait until they were off the ship to examine them. The ships docked in the afternoon and the boys disembarked.

“We have a good record for exciting three day weekends,” said Fake in triumph holding the glazed bottle. Andin melted the wax. Fake sunk into their couch and began reading, “Here,” he said holding one of the documents. Andin read after Fake. Andin became angry – the documents explained nothing.

“This doesn’t help us at all,” he growled.

“Who is this guy?” asked Fake.

“Whoever he is, he is very good.”

“But he was thrown into the void,” said Fake.

“Read the second page; it says he cut his own bindings and jumped voluntarily. He’s not dead; in fact he is certainly still here in Pelagos. He must have used magic to fly back up, no easy feat.”

Fake read the annotation on the strange events at the execution. “It says the executioners watched him fall until they could no longer see him,” he argued.

“It’s difficult to fly with water magic, but not so hard with others, we don’t know what disciplines this man can do. All we know is he freed his hands, which definitely means he was going to do some sort of spell.”

Fake tried to inject some hope into his angered friend, “Well if he is here we can find him.”

Andin growing more frustrated said, “Pelagos is the largest known plane; if this man doesn’t want to be found then he won’t be.” Fake began to speak before Andin interrupted him, “Just stop talking.”

The tense silence turned into the weight of defeat for both of them. After a few minutes Andin opened his eyes and spoke, “I’m sorry, I just needed a second; I hate being set back.” Fake accepted his apology by removing the miniature thunderstorm he put over Andin’s head. Andin saw the illusion and threw a ball of flame at his friend in return.

Satisfied his friend was no longer miserable, Fake left the room. Andin grabbed a stack of papers from his Advanced Fire class to grade. He sipped coffee and put the disappointing news to the back of his mind. He knew there was little to do until he could communicate with his father.

**

“I hope you spent some of your long weekend practicing; everyone to the courtyard,” said Andin to his first period class.

The class moaned in unison. One of his bolder students spoke, “Professor must you always have quizzes on Mondays?”

Andin took a loud slurp from his coffee before answering, “It’s Tuesday.”

The class formed a semicircle in the courtyard. Andin raised a row of stone targets for his students, each capped with a smaller stone. “I know many of you are strongly considering wind magic as your second discipline; you will have three attempts to knock the stone off of the target.”

Lines formed behind each target. One by one each student hit the stones; the more adept students did so on their first attempts. Andin noted their performance in his grade book. He offered advice to some struggling students, “It’s not finite like a ball of water, give the spell room to breathe.”

His students finished and Andin stood in front of them, “Well done – back to the classroom and I’ll explain the formatting of next week’s final exam.” Andin followed his students back inside and outlined the final. The fire prince finished, “Any questions?”

A girl raised her hand, “Will we be doing devotions after finals week?”

Andin answered, “Yes, those of you who are ready to select a second discipline will be able to devote to it at the end of finals week before winter dismissal.” The prince dismissed his class and they shuffled off to their next lesson.

After his morning classes Andin headed to the lab to check on the portal research. After only a few weeks of research it was obvious that he was hindering progress just by being there. The presence of an immortal disturbed the magic and collapsed the conjured portal. He offered assistance now only as an advisor. Andin rationalized the peculiar behavior simply, he figured the combined power of three immortals was enough to force a doorway open, regardless of how they naturally operated.

“The demigod alarm warned us you were coming,” teased Perc.

“Demigod alarm?” said Andin perplexed.

“The window starts disrupting when you are about halfway down the lab wing’s hallway,” explained Perc.

“Any progress?” asked Andin.

“Yes and no, mostly no,” said Perc in her characteristic snippiness. Andin stared until Perc continued her report, “Well we’ve gotten very good in the last week at making stable windows without constant input – but we can’t keep it open longer than nine minutes, no matter what we try.”

“But it’s still the canvas?” asked Andin.

“That’s it, it’s always your friend’s weird plane,” answered Perc. After weeks and weeks of varying the execution of the spell Andin and the research team could get the window to open only to Fake’s Canvas.

“It’s the most revolutionary magical advancement in a hundred years, and it’s wholly worthless right now,” complained one of the professors in the lab. Perc handed the fire prince a thick stack of notes to review.

Andin eyed the hefty stack and sighed, “I heard a rumor that Pelagos had some great works of literature.”

Perc rubbed Andin’s shoulder sympathetically, “At least you aren’t locked in here with a bunch of grumpy sailors pretending to be academics.”

“Oh witty stargazer could you lend me a hand with grading papers? I heard you didn’t have many students this semester,” countered another professor.

“Shut up,” shot Perc.

Andin left the sharp tongued lab rats to their work. He leafed through the first few pages of notes in his room. Fake walked in after him, “Hey what are we doing for the winter recess?”

Andin shrugged, “I’m not sure – did you have something in mind?”

“The Silver Island chain,” replied Fake.

“You’re not still thinking about breaking into the fort on Carmen Island are you?”

“No, there’s no reason to anymore – but the islanders might be able to fill in some of the gaps about our guy.”

Andin sat forward, “I’m in but we’ll need an excuse to give to Lady Pria.”

“Actually, I already figured that out too,” said Fake trying to hide his smile. Andin eyed him suspiciously. Fake continued, “Percaphia invited me; well us, I told her we’re a package deal.” An entire semester’s worth of Fake’s late night visits to the observatory rushed into Andin’s head.

Andin looked humorously disgusted, “Let me guess, she lives in that island chain.” Fake nodded.

“How long have you two…?”

“Since that first night in the observatory, you left early remember?”

“I can’t help but think this is mine and Chief Sorrel’s fault,” said Andin airily.

“I’ve been alone for almost a thousand years, what did you expect?”

It was as good an excuse as any other. Andin wasn’t very hopeful about the trip but hearing the account of the murders from the locals might shed light on the situation. In just a few months Fake had become an adept researcher and strategist, Andin could think of no better accomplice.

Chapter Eighteen – Good fishermen

Finals week wrapped up quickly. Most of the students sailed home for the long recess. Pria and her crew were given a month of leave. An officer from the central fleet came to keep watch over Andin and Fake’s activities. Luckily for the boys, the peculiar man was wholly disinterested in his job.

“It’s a stroke of luck really,” said Fake.

“With Lady Pria at least we had to try to be subtle, this guy is clueless,” chuckled Andin.

The officer from the fleet had an inordinate amount of luggage. He exaggerated the effort of loading his bags onto the courier ship in the hopes someone would pity him and lend a hand. The crew milled about smartly, ignoring the man. Fake, Andin, and Percaphia boarded last.

The courier ship shoved off from the docks and sailed east. One of the students from Andin’s class walked up to him, “Hello professor.” It was the same boy who told the prince about the Prestle family at the beginning of the school year.

Andin remembered he was a bit of a slacker, “Hello Pejo.”

“Why are you going to the Silver Chain?” asked Pejo.

“Your parents asked me to continue your studies over the recess,” answered Andin.

Pejo’s eyes widened in fear, “Really?”

“No, but you should at least open a book during the break.”

Pejo was still tense; Andin’s stoic nature made his sarcasm even more cutting. “What discipline should I take as my second?” Pejo asked hoping to escape any more threats against his vacation.

Andin thought about it for a moment and said, “That’s a hard decision for anyone, I’ll tell you what one of my old professors told me.” Andin envisioned Svoi’s triumphant smile – the smile he surely would unleash if he knew his favorite pupil was quoting him. “He said quite simply, pick the one that is the most fun.”

Andin could see that Pejo was thinking which that was. “Do you know what it is?” asked the fire prince.

Pejo nodded, “Yes professor, lightning – but it’s so unwieldy.”

“To a novice,” corrected Andin. “If you enjoy it, you’ll enjoy becoming better at it. When you get home see if anyone on your island practices lightning magic; when you get back to school go see Professor Olston. Talk to them and find out more. How the element behaves for others is important, but more so is how it interacts with your own abilities.”

Pejo left to rejoin his schoolmates. Andin cracked open a book and tried to pass the time. The wind steadily drove the vessel east. By nightfall the courier ship was in the open ocean, out of sight of land. Andin and the other night owls on board watched as a pack of lunis whales travelled alongside them. Their backs striped with curling glowing lines.

Perc’s tone was fittingly romantic and flowing as she spoke, “They say the old lunis whale king didn’t have stripes. He was so enamored by the moon’s beauty he pleaded with her to give him a token of her majesty that he might enjoy it in the black depths where he hunted. The moon agreed to bless the whale king and his people, but at a price.”

More than just Fake and Andin were listening to Perc’s addictive voice. She went on, “So the moon sent a jewel to the whale king – the moonstone. The moonstone was an object of jealous beauty, refusing to shine anywhere she could be rivaled. So the whale king dove to the inky abyss. As he dove deeper and deeper the stone grew more radiant and intoxicating.”

The clouds parted letting the moonlight through. It seemed as if even the whales moved closer to hear Perc’s story. “Finally, in the darkest and deepest hole in the ocean the moonstone settled on the bottom. With no rivals to challenge her, the moonstone shone like nothing the whale king had ever seen before. He understood now the price of this gift; only he would ever know the true brilliance of the moonstone.”

“It was an object of such incomprehensible beauty the whale king dare not let it escape his sight. The mighty whale king circled the stone reverently for hours. The king knew this place would be his grave. Choking on the stale air in his lungs he collapsed the rocky cliffs surrounding the rift in his death throes. Buried with his treasure the whale king died. Knowing the dark nature of her moonstone the moon wept at the death of the whale king.”

Nothing but Perc’s voice filled the air, “But such passion and such beauty cannot simply be buried. From then on there would never be another lunis whale king, but all would bear the mark for his sins. Once mighty hunters the lunis whales became scavengers as their own radiant shine warned away any prey they might desire.”

With mouths closed and eyes open the gathered souls on the moonlit deck of the ship watched the lunis whales. With steady rhythm the whales curved against the surface taking breaths of air. With the weight of understanding all now knew the price of their beauty.

**

The courier ship arrived at Carmen Island. From there the passengers dispersed to their final destinations. Perc’s cabin was on an island just south of the Prestle’s home island. Another short ride on another boat and the three had made it.

A handful of tidy cabins made up Perc’s village. “More people live throughout the island; we like our privacy,” she explained. “The courier comes twice a day from Carmen – that’s the pub, that’s the general store, and that’s the tour.” Andin and Fake followed her through the village.

The path they took led away from the shoreline. The shade in the palm and bamboo grove kept them cool. Animals scurried from their footsteps. The vegetation cleared into rocky beach. “That’s it,” said Perc.

In sync with their arrival the darkening skies began to rain. A large map of the Silver Chain hung on the wall. “Is this us?” asked Andin pointing to a small island.

Perc nodded, “Here’s Carmen Island.” Her finger moved to the bottom of the island chain, “This is the Hinge, it’s an enormous grotto – we should visit while you’re here.”

Andin dug through his bag for his bug-eyed goggles. “I’m going for a swim,” he said. Andin could tell Percaphia and his friend were eager to be alone. The rain wouldn’t bother him, especially in the sea. The cool water was refreshing. A child of the snow, Pelagos always felt too warm to the fire prince.

The fire prince swam parallel to shore heading east where the waves were bigger. On a rocky outcrop was a squat figure with a droopy hat. As Andin got closer he saw the man was fishing. Andin left the water to say hello.

Andin climbed onto the rocks to get closer. The fisherman’s hat was wider than his own shoulders. The old man spoke without facing the prince, “A Beldurian? Not what I was expecting to catch today.”

Andin bowed, “I am Andin of Beldur.”

The fisherman remained facing the water and laughed, “You mean Prince Andin.”

“Yes, but you don’t need to call me that.” Andin had still not seen this man’s face.

“Have a seat prince,” beckoned the fisherman. He summoned a small stool out of seemingly nowhere. Andin sat down. Low enough now to be under the large hat he saw the fisherman’s unweathered face.

“It’s the hat,” answered the fisherman. Andin looked confused, he hadn’t asked anything. “My face; so pretty because I wear this hat,” added the fisherman.

“Oh,” said Andin unsure how to respond.

“You don’t think I’m pretty?” baited the fisherman. Andin smirked; Fake had prepared him well for inanity. “The cave you are looking for is that way,” said the fisherman ignoring his own question.

“I’m looking for a cave?” asked Andin looking in the direction the fisherman pointed.

“You are now,” he chuckled.

“You’re a very clever man,” complimented Andin.

“Oh I’m not clever,” said the fisherman. “I’m just a good angler,” he added.

The rain and wind picked up. The low waves grew to rolling breakers. The fisherman adjusted his wide hat to ensure he was fully covered. One of his hands rested gently on the taut line from rod. There was a distinct economy to his movement that Andin admired.

“What makes a good fisherman?” he asked.

“Someone who pays attention,” answered the old man.

“Do you know Percaphia?”

“Oh yes, I know everyone who grew up here.” As he answered he pulled firmly back on the rod setting the hook into the unseen fish; he began reeling in his catch. A fat lazy eyed fish popped out of the water. The fisherman examined his prize with satisfaction. He strung it with his other catches and stood, “Well that’s enough for me; goodbye Prince Andin.”

The fisherman packed his things and left the prince on the jetty. Andin watched him walk over the dunes and out of sight. His absence left Andin feeling lonely. He fought the overwhelming urge to follow the mysterious angler, at the very least to ask his name.

It’s a small island; I’ll see him again, thought Andin. He started walking in the rain soaked sand. The way it stuck to his toes reminded him of snow. He left the shoreline. The fire prince almost fell into the rocky pit hidden by the wild grass. It was the cave the fisherman had told him about.

He jumped down into the cave. The wide mouth narrowed quickly a few feet down. Andin squeezed through the tight choke into the dark. With a snap of his fingers the prince lit the way. After a hundred yards of plummeting tunnel he extinguished his flame.

The cave was lit by luminous tube algae and cave mushrooms. Most glowed a soft sky blue but a patch in the corner was an angry purple. Weird and wonderful insects paid no attention to the fire prince as they crawled about their business. Andin was captivated by this marvelous miniature menagerie. He needed to show Fake.

“Oh I haven’t been there since I was a little girl,” said Perc excitedly. The rain stopped on Andin’s return to Perc’s cabin, misting the island in the jungle’s woody exhale. The three walked back to the cave. Andin asked Perc about the fisherman. “He’s been here since as long as I can remember; he lives inland,” she said pointing into the foliage.

“What’s his name?” asked Andin.

“Traufo, but he’s not a fisherman, not by trade at least,” said Perc. Fake tripped on a log of driftwood. “He makes cigars – they are famous throughout Pelagos,” she added.

Fake shook the sand out of his hair, “What’s a cigar?”

Andin thought about it for a moment before Perc beat him to the correct answer, “We’ll get some at the pub tonight.” And with those words, a happy blur of lazy days and cheerful nights flowed forth.

Chapter Nineteen – Raid

Fake returned from his secret mission to Altair Island, the former home of the Prestles. “I went to their home; I talked to the island guard who first arrested him; I talked to the warden who watched him wait in his cell, nothing,” said Fake disappointedly. “He had dark hair and an expressionless face; that’s it, that’s all I got. They weren’t even sure what color his eyes were,” he lamented.

The illusionist continued his frustrated rant, “The only thing anyone seemed to agree on was the feeling that everything was simply going the way he knew it would. Like he had planned to kill the family, wait to be caught, and sentenced to die in the void. A strange sense of self-control, was what one of the guards said about the killer.”

Andin wrote a handful of short notes in his journal about the man – he had never seen Fake flustered before and was enjoying the novelty of it. Fake kept at it for a few more minutes before wearing himself into acceptance, “Damn he’s good.”

Andin knew it was okay to speak now, “We still learned something about him; you did well.”

“Did anyone ask why you were looking into the case?” asked Andin.

“I was disguised as a Naval Official; no one asked hard questions.”

Perc walked in and ended the secretive conversation. “Good, you’re awake, the ship leaves in an hour. Let’s eat breakfast at the pub.” Fake’s absence was nothing unusual to Perc. At the Academy he would disappear for hours or even days with no notice. The illusionist was near impossible to keep track of.

The courier ship took the trio back the transit hub at Carmen Island. A second ship took them to The Hinge. The winds were uncooperative and the journey delayed. The sun was rising again when they arrived. They stood at the edge of the massive grotto. “That’s big,” said Andin.

“It’s not filled with water?” noted Fake perplexed.

“Some parts deeper down are flooded, but the grotto itself isn’t connected to the ocean,” answered Perc. Huge rock features like this reminded Andin of Kato. He couldn’t resist waiting on the edge. He picked up two stones and leapt into the pit. He shrunk into nothing as the grotto swallowed him.

The fire prince let gravity pull him as long as he dared. The stones in his hands then pulled him to a gentle stop. When he returned to the surface Fake and Perc looked at him dismayed. “What are we supposed to do?” asked Fake.

Andin looked at Fake, “You can’t use your sand?” Then to Perc, “And you can’t use a container of water? There’s water down there too, you could just use that.” Both looked unconvinced. This was a skill foreign to both of them. Andin was well practiced from his time in Kato.

Perc pointed at the lift on the opposite wall of the grotto. Andin responded by slicing a platform of rock from the ground, “I’ll take us down.”

“Slowly, you’ll take us down slowly,” said a nervous Fake. At Andin’s command the stone platform levitated and descended into the grotto.

They were down for only a moment before a shower of splintered wood fell near them accompanied by the wail of the island’s alarms. “Andin take us up!” shouted Perc. The three jumped back onto the stone slab and the prince lifted them back to the surface. They heard screams and clashing swords.

“It’s a raid,” said Perc. They reached the surface; the boardwalk circling the grotto was crawling with pirates with curved swords. Andin saw a young man cut down in front of him, he drew his sickles in fury. Fake’s jacket melted into an orbiting star of black sand.

They ran to the boardwalk ready for battle. “Don’t get cornered; take one at a time,” said Andin as he overwhelmed his first foe with ease. Fake’s star careened toward a filthy pirate’s face knocking him hard to the ground.

“Keep moving, we’re going to the docks,” said Andin forcefully cleaving another pirate. The pirates regrouped sending razor discs filled with water towards them. Fake vanished; but Andin couldn’t dodge all of the flying blades and was cut badly. Pillars of stone crushed the pirates controlling the discs.

Fake reappeared behind two pirates; his sand reformed into the star and battered them down. Fake saw Andin’s blood staining the boardwalk, “Andin?” he asked worried.

Andin grimaced as he cauterized his own wound, “It’ll heal soon.” They ran to the docks.

A great horn bellowed from the largest pirate ship, signaling the raid was over. Pirates throughout the boardwalk ran from homes and businesses. Some clutched jewels or fine cloth, anything of value was taken. Women and children shrieked as they were bound and slung over shoulders.

A woman managed to cut her bindings and stab her kidnapper in the back. The scoundrel threw her down and crushed her neck in anger. Andin locked his feet with stone and lit him on fire. Fake stopped to watch the horror and violence unfold, it was incomprehensible. A fleeing raider stabbed the illusionist through his waist.

Andin ran to his maimed friend, “Stay here, I know it hurts, you’ll be fine in a few hours.” Fake didn’t answer – he couldn’t look away from the gash in his belly. Andin ran on cutting down pirates where he could. The first of the three raid ships began throwing lines to shove off.

The vastness of Pelagos meant this would be the only sure chance to stop the fiends. Raider after raider tried to kill the fire prince, none could contend with his burning fury. He reached the docks; the second ship began to shove off. Ten massive pirates stood in his way. “You die today Beldurian,” taunted the largest of them.

They loosed their harpoons at Andin. He drew a wall of stone from the ground to protect him. The docks were over shoreline, not the rocky foundation around the grotto. Andin’s protection turned up a thin wall of sand. Harpoons pierced through his wall, then his leg. The pirates heaved the connected chains and slammed the rag-doll prince into the docks.

The pain was excruciating; Andin sent desperate sheets of flame in all directions burning the docks and the pirates equally. The pirates abandoned the fight and boarded the last ship. Unable to walk from his injuries Andin crawled down the docks in dogged pursuit.

He sent flames to the third ship still near enough to attack. The pirates put out the fires easily with their magic and laughed as the ship moved into the harbor. With one final effort he launched one of his sickles towards the mast of the mainsail. It cut clean through the mast and the sail fell into the water.

The first pirate ship made it out of the harbor. A small figure stood on the rocky jetty built to protect the harbor. It was Percaphia; her eyes burned a brilliant aqua as she worked to cast a summoning spell. The golem manifested in the water and unleashed its watery tentacles on the pirate ship.

The power of the beast broke the spine of the ship. The monstrous squid grabbed pirate after pirate hurling them into the air. Percaphia could maintain the creature no longer and it vanished beneath the waves. She fell to the rocks, finished from the effort.

The second and third ship left the harbor uncontested. The marines and magi stationed on the island reached the prince at the docks. One of the officers in charge stopped at the prince eyeing his wounds. “I’ll be alright; I cut the mainsail of the last ship,” strained Andin.

“We saw; their ship movers won’t be able to keep her at speed without the mainsail, we’ll catch them,” assured the officer as his sailors boarded their warship. The naval vessel cast its lines to hunt the raiders down.

Andin, Fake, and Perc were utterly spent. Andin lay flat against the dock staring at the sky. He couldn’t hear anything; not the sobbing of the locals or the hurried footsteps of the marines and magi. Smoke joined the clouds from where the fires had gained foothold on the boardwalk.

In that brief moment the three were united in their removal from the world. Time ticked onward but not for them, they had become unstuck in the furious devastation of battle. It seemed inconceivable that any of them would ever again stand, speak, or continue living.

Finally, Andin clawed his way back to reality and rolled to his side. Moments before the prince hamstrung a pirate warship, now the effort of standing seemed insurmountable. The prince fought himself up to his feet, swaying as if he would topple over at any moment.

Step by step he worked his way through the ruins of the boardwalk to where he had left Fake. When he managed the journey, Fake was missing. Worry filled the Beldurian. Where is he? Andin wondered. He was yet unsure how Fake’s body would handle such a wound.

Andin heard a bright and familiar voice say, “It’s okay; they’re gone now, you’re safe.” Opposite a small group of shops was the illusionist, clutching his stomach with one hand and comforting a sobbing girl with the other.

She was a homely girl, covered in filth with blood between her thighs. Between heaving sobs she told Fake, “They, they just laughed when they saw me.” A shaking fit interrupted her, “Th- then they took my sister.” Andin hobbled over to the girl and knelt.

“Many of the enemy were slain by my own hands, most of those kidnapped were on the ship I disabled; the Navy might save your sister. But do not put needless stock in hope, trust your own strength; you are strong.” Andin held her hands and looked into her eyes.

Ignoring his own pain he pulled the girl to her feet, “I need you to start looking for survivors, help them in any way you can.” She sniffled and with a tight lip nodded at the prince. The girl walked to the makeshift triage the magi had built in the plaza.

The two friends looked at each other as if many years had passed between their last meeting. “Have you seen Perc? I need to find her,” said Fake.

“I know where she is, she was alive last I saw.” The two staggered back to the docks.

“I don’t like fighting,” said Fake rubbing his stomach.

“It’s necessary sometimes – if you’re like me that will heal in a few hours.”

“Good, I didn’t know something could hurt so badly.”

The walk took an age for the battered fighters. A feeling of defilement poisoned the air of the town. The Hinge hadn’t been attacked in years, and never so badly. Perc had made it back to the docks. “Are you hurt?” asked Fake.

“No, just exhausted,” she answered.

Reunited, the three sat down at the edge of the jetty. “It’s a rare thing to see a mortal able to create a golem such as yours,” said Andin.

She drew a long breath before replying, “My parents were killed by pirates when I was a student.”

“How does vengeance feel?” asked Andin.

She replayed the splintering of the pirate ship in her mind – with satisfaction she answered, “It feels good.” After half an hour the three got up to help the locals put back together what pieces they could.

Fake entertained a crowd of children with his illusions. Andin retrieved bodies that had fallen or been thrown into the grotto. Perc helped repair the boardwalk. The sun set, the night watch was doubled, and the three friends curled in their beds at the inn.

In the morning the pursuing warship returned loaded with rescued women and children. They received a hero’s welcome. Andin gave a short statement to the officer writing the incident report. Neither he nor his friends wished to stay at the Hinge any longer. They boarded the afternoon courier ship.

Chapter Twenty – The talkative Beldurian.

Fake, Andin, and Perc returned to the Academy. Pria and her rested crew took up station once more. The officer tasked with monitoring Fake and Andin was lashed and reassigned to a remote outpost for his convenient absence during the Hinge raid.

Andin received fresh faces in his two alternative magics classes. His advanced fire class covered both semesters. The fire prince continued reading reports from the research lab. Progress had wholly stagnated. After the first month back the reports shrunk to only a half-page in length.

He tossed the report on the ground and asked his friend, “Do you feel bad about killing those pirates?”

Fake shrugged, “No – I remember what they did to those girls; I think they deserved death.”

Andin sighed, “Me either.” There was a long silence while they sipped their tea. Fake idly rubbed the window curtains between his fingers.

“Why do you ask?” said Fake.

“I haven’t slept since the raid; I keep seeing the faces of the men I killed in Eida.”

“Not the pirates?”

“No, I feel nothing for them; but the nobleman and the tower priest have been haunting me since the Hinge.”

“Sometimes I have terrible dreams about the old world. There aren’t any details, just feelings, especially the suffering,” Fake paused, he said with a smile, “I think that just means you are good person.”

“I haven’t seen you with Perc that much,” said Andin, changing the subject.

“We sort of slowed down after what happened,” answered Fake, returning them back to the raid.

Andin thought hard for a moment. He downed his tea and stood up, “Let’s go outside.”

“I thought you killed just one man in the Plane of Light,” said Fake.

“The other man was incidental, I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Are you going to tell me why you thought Odium was communicating with them?”

Andin let his eyes drift between the scenery. He took a sharp breath in, “Look if I tell you this it isn’t just another secret for you to keep, it’s going to pull you into it.”

Fake looked at him like he was overlooking the obvious, “I was pulled into this the moment you popped into my world.”

“My father has been having dreams too, from Mortem,” said Andin.

“One of the first gods?” asked Fake.

“Yes, he warned that Odium had learned how to influence mortals through dreams. But for once Mortem had the upper hand on the enemy. Nobleman Eilef was the first, then Marth Prestle, and now who knows what Mortem has told my father.”

Fake looked suspicious, “How can you know it was really Mortem speaking to your father?”

“I can’t, I asked him the same thing; he said he was certain it was Mortem,” said Andin.

“Well what does Mortem say Odium is after?”

“Some sort of means to return to physical form; a way to get back and a vessel to hold him.”

“To do what?”

“To finish what he started; to corrupt and consume the planes and their people.”

Fake pulled out two Traufian cigars from his pocket and motioned Andin to light them both. “These talks always end up with you looking very serious and upset; I thought these might help,” explained Fake.

The illusionist took a puff from his cigar and asked, “So what’s the plan?”

With his spirits lifted by his thoughtful friend Andin answered sarcastically, “Not much really; just figure out how to control the portals.”

“Which we can’t,” chimed in Fake.

“Then unite gods and mortals alike under one banner.”

“Which we won’t.”

“Finally, defeat a being so incomprehensibly powerful it took the sacrifice of all three of the old gods to stop him from completely destroying the world – which ended up irreparably broken into the planes.”

“Actually I think we can do that one,” joked Fake. Puffing cigars under the night sky the two friends relaxed from their heavy conversation. Fake teased Andin about the entourage of giggling schoolgirls that manifested when the prince walked the halls, “I think I’m going to tell them where you exercise in the morning.”

“I think I’ll tell them you’re on the market again,” countered Andin.

“I can hide, you can’t,” riposted Fake.

**

Andin was in his classroom grading midterm essays when Perc ran in, “Andin we saw another window!” He didn’t understand at first. Then she added, “Another portal!” Andin jumped out of his seat heading to the lab. Percaphia grabbed his tunic in the hallway, “No, you have to wait; if it’s still open you’ll collapse it!” The wind whimpered out of the prince’s sails.

Pacing in the corridor he asked, “Did you see anyone in the window?”

Perc nodded, “Yes, he was Beldurian; I’m not sure how long they have either. Professor Nobidan told them they would reopen a window every hour Pelagic time to establish some sort of timetable with Beldur.”

Andin pulled out his chronometer, “When I first came here noon was two and a half hours after Beldurian noon.” Perc ran off to tell the research staff. She came back a minute later waving that it was okay for Andin to follow.

Relief from weeks of boredom and frustration brightened the air in the lab. “Prince Andin, a Councilman Bostil says hello,” said a grinning Nobidan.

“Tell me everything,” demanded Andin.

“We opened a window to continue our energy testing series, after about three minutes of trying to send magical energy though the portal we took a break. It was then I heard a voice coming through the window. Within the illusionist’s plane there was another window open with your friend sitting on the other side, quite a talkative fellow.”

A wave of happiness washed over Andin, he could send a message to his father. “Make sure you synchronize your clocks when you establish contact again,” said Andin.

Nobidan pointed at the two large chronometers being brought into the lab. “Any messages you would like to send to Beldur?” asked the ecstatic professor as if such a feat were commonplace.

Andin thought about it for a moment; he needed to tell his father that Marth Prestle was killed by another. The message would have to pass through at least two mortal hands before it reached Bellos. Andin was sure any missive he sent through the window would be reported to the Brothers.

“Prince Andin?” said professor Nobidan.

Andin snapped out of his inner monologue, “Oh, tell my father I’m teaching at the Academy and that I miss the snows of Beldur.” The fire prince couldn’t think of anything that would explain the situation secretly. “Fake’s plane must be in some sort of crossroads position for these windows,” suggested Andin.

“It seems that way, and if the Ventians know of this magic like you say we could be seeing them soon as well,” added Nobidan.

Percaphia was copying some of Nobidan’s notes. The research staff regained the same excitement they had when they were first starting. Andin watched as the Pelagic scientists buzzed about. This revelation was marred with the same evil feeling he had felt growing near the natural portals.

In the prince’s mind he saw his father standing in the same room as Councilman Bostil, feeling the same darkness he felt. For just a fleeting moment Andin felt something new; like a small burden had been lessened on his chest. The crystal! He thought.

Andin lifted the collar of his tunic and looked down at the crystal. The hint of a hint of something within the crystal had evaporated; it was as dull as ever. He stared at it for too long. Percaphia saw Andin’s strange behavior but said nothing.

The fire prince had to leave the lab; the next window would be opened in a few minutes. Leaving the room that could let him communicate with his father tore at Andin. This power belongs to the gods not men, thought Andin in jealous anger.

The universe appeared to him in this moment to be inescapably cruel. Immortals had forced a doorway open before – why not again? Why should I be denied; I taught them how to create the damn things! His eyes burned as if he were about to tear the Academy down.

He made his way outside before shouting and unleashing a wave of fire at the indifferent waves. Confused and frustrated he lay on the shoreline staring at the clouds; hoping to find relief from consciousness. Fake walked up from the opposite direction.

“I’ve never seen you angry like that,” noted Fake who conjured a caricature of Andin with steam pouring from his ears.

“It’s a Beldurian thing; our fire hearts must always smolder to keep beating, but if I let my anger control me it would burn me to pieces.”

“Well what would you call that?” asked Fake who witnessed the river of fire from the distance.

“Getting my anger back in control,” answered a calmer Andin.

“Are you always angry then?”

“Yes.”

Fake lowered himself to his friend’s side in the sand. The caricature of Andin started acting obscenely on Andin’s thigh. The fire prince couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you?” asked Andin.

“Dissatisfied,” sighed the illusionist.

“It never happens the way you envision does it?”

“I spent hundreds of years alone, trying to distract myself from my own prison. The second worst punishment in Pelagos is banishment to the barren western isles, mortal men left alone go completely mad in a few short years. In my canvas I was with no one, with crystal clear awareness of it.”

“Insanity is asylum for some,” said Andin.

“Sanity was my dungeon.”

Andin’s miniature was now being chased by a matching one of Fake wielding a large mallet. After a short chase the tiny Fake had squashed his prey on Andin’s knee. “What were you so mad about anyway?” remembered Fake.

Andin told Fake about how they saw another window in Fake’s Canvas. Fake badgered Andin for being angry at such a good thing. “Do you think your dad will know about our mystery man?” asked Fake.

“I’m not sure, but there is no way of asking him about it secretly.”

“Can’t you send him a coded message?”

Andin sat up, “It would be obvious I was hiding something.”

“If they are reporting your messages back to the Brothers they would think you were hiding something no matter what already.”

“Well if it’s good enough to defy the scrutiny of the Brothers than I think my father would also be unable to decode it,” countered Andin.

The two stood up and walked inshore towards the palm trees. Andin’s guard was down and Fake was in the mood for a chase. “Hey you remember that time I stole your mattress and hid it on the Thresher?” he asked coyly.

“They sailed off and I slept on the couch for a week, yes I remember,” growled the prince.

“You know that big chair that you love?”

“You didn’t,” said Andin as his face went sour.

“I did.”

Andin wasn’t sure what would happen if you decapitated an immortal, but he was set on using Fake as his guinea pig. Dodging balls of magma Fake leapt through the palm grove laughing. “Next time I’m not telling you where I put it,” taunted a maniacal Fake.

“I told you a hundred times there was only one chair.” protested Andin.

“Liar.”

Chapter Twenty-one – Springtime

The Moontide sailed back to the school without the Thresher. Her little sister stayed at the northern end of the island chain. “Lady Pria, permission to enter the harbor?” asked Chief Sorrel. This time of year the winds shifted towards the south, Pria had felt the steady gallop of the winds as they sailed towards the Academy.

“No chief not yet, get all ship movers topside; fly the wings,” she ordered.

“Aye ma’am,” said the chief realizing her intent. From halfway down the bridge steps the chief shouted, “Open the side booms, fly the wings, all ship movers topside!” There was a wave of movement as the crew prepared the Moontide to sail at her top speed.

Extendable booms reached sideways from the deck. White cotton sheets were unfurled catching the wind behind them. The Moontide gained speed with the new sails, the protection of the island kept the waves low and the water calm.

The chief ordered all the sails open and trimmed appropriately. The crew moved themselves and some of the ballast to keep the ship balanced. The ship movers waited anxiously to add to the speed of the ship.

Her speed was measured twice before a sailor called out, “Fifteen knots!” The chief was now amidships. Pria called down to him, “Chief get me two more knots!” Sorrel nodded, he and his crew continued adjusting the sails, trying to get every bit of wind they could.

“Sixteen knots!” shouted the two sailors measuring her speed. The navigator confirmed the speed with the clockwork cartographer. The crew carefully balanced the push of the wind with the drag of the sails. With tremendous pleasure the sailor yelled, “Seventeen and a half knots!” Pria looked at her navigator who confirmed the speed with a smile.

“Chief when you’re ready, give the order,” said Pria. A good patch of water lay ahead; the chief gave the command to the ship movers. At once they pushed jets of water from the sides of the ship. Thirty sailors in all helped heave the Moontide forward.

The warship pushed up a tremendous wake, the ship movers wouldn’t be able to keep her at speed for long. Over the rush of wind the sailor yelled, “Twenty-two and a half knots!” The navigator did his own calculations twice to be sure, “Yes ma’am I’ve got twenty-two and a half as well.”

The Moontide eased back to only sail power as the ship movers tired. The side booms were brought in and the sails reefed. Pria opened the Commodore’s Log, on the second page in Gunrow’s handwriting were the words Moontide’s fastest run: 22 knots. Pria drew a line through the record and recorded her own. “Take us home,” ordered Pria.

The Moontide sailed for the harbor. Andin and some of the faculty were racing small sailing craft of their own. In dead last, the prince took to gently lobbing fireballs in the direction of his competitors – aiming mostly for Fake who was a few places ahead of him.

Ten minutes later the race was over; all but Andin had returned to the docks. Out of frustration he gave in and drew his motionless boat through the water with earth magic. After a light teasing from the other professors Andin headed towards the docking Moontide.

“Why did you sail past the harbor?” asked Fake who watched the Moontide’s run past the port.

Pria walked down the gangplank, “Good weather to break a speed record.”

“Oh did you do it?” he wondered.

“We did,” answered Pria with pride.

Pria’s reports of Fake and Andin’s activities had become increasingly less detailed. After many weekend voyages she had grown fond of her boys, as did her crew. With Professor Nobidan officially becoming the lead researcher for the portal magic the Brother’s concerns of the two foreigners was non existent.

Sorrel joined them and they ate lunch at the docks. “We’ve had many meals together but I still can’t get over it,” said Pria halfway through her sandwich.

Andin understood, “Please enjoy your meal, we don’t think it’s impolite, really.” Andin sipped on his coffee.

Sorrel asked, “Well what happens if you do eat?”

“The same thing that happens when you eat,” answered Fake.

Both Pria and Sorrel responded with a clashing mix of humor and disgust at the obviousness of the answer. “You’re never far from a cup of coffee it seems,” noted Pria.

“My sweet ambrosia,” answered Andin eyeing the dark liquid as if it were sacred.

“Do you have coffee in Beldur?” asked Sorrel.

“Certainly, everyone drinks coffee in the plane of fire. Early on it was impossible to grow it in the icy climate, but we became better and better at making greenhouses kept warm by the volcanoes. Now Beldurian farmers are able to supply our people with their bitter addiction.”

With a captive audience he continued, “But the original plant imported from Pelagos a few hundred years ago could only be grown in small crops. Overtime they were bred to be more receptive to our soil and to our summers where it is light almost all day long.”

Andin’s explanation had a casual genuineness to it that hid his normally terse and annoyed tone. The private pity Pria felt for his students evaporated, “I can see why you teach,” she complimented. The respect he had for Pria caused Andin to blush. Fake and Sorrel were in a merciful mood and opted to harass him for it later.

While saying there goodbyes Pria warned, “Fake, please stop bringing furniture onto my ship.”

The two friends walked towards the Academy, enjoying the tropical weather. Eight weeks after the raid and the boys finally had enough time between them and that horrible day to feel at ease.

“Any news from Beldur?” asked Fake.

“Nothing substantial, my father is more cautious about privacy than I am,” shrugged Andin.

“Next time you see him you’ll need to set up some sort of code,” suggested Fake.

“I’ll leave that to your capable hands illusionist.”

As Fake was frowning at the thought of being told to do something tedious Andin was already in the process of creating a pit beneath his friend’s feet; his favorite way to accost the painter. Andin was a patient prankster; waiting until just the perfect moment to strike.

Fake screamed as the ground disappeared from where he stood. He crashed unceremoniously at the bottom of the sand pit. Still crumpled awkwardly, Fake cursed Andin who had already fled the scene in laughter.

There was a tense uneasiness in their room. Andin hid his face behind a book, waiting to see if Fake would break their ‘no-more-destroying-the-room-for-pranks-remember-what-happened-with-the-octopus’ rule. Fake acted as if nothing had happened and grabbed a stack of papers.

Unconvinced he was yet safe Andin probed, “What are you working on?”

Fake answered coolly, “I’m putting together a lesson plan for a pre-Sundering history class – one hasn’t been taught in a few years, and I’m trying to convince the Dean I can do it.”

The fire prince was safe for now – but knew Fake wouldn’t forget. Andin checked his chronometer and sat up, “Come on we’re going to the lab.”

“You don’t need me to send a message, besides Perc is there,” argued Fake.

“She won’t see you if you’re hidden; I need you to hide this where they open the window.” As he spoke Andin dug behind his tunic for the thin leather cord holding the crystal around his neck. He untied it and gave it to Fake.

“What is it?” said the illusionist asking the obvious.

“A shard of the Seed of Creation; one of the few intact from the Sundering.”

“What does it do?”

“I’m not sure, my father asked me to get it during the mission in Eida. It definitely responds to portal magic.”

“The Seed was a gift from the three wasn’t it? They gave their power of creation to the mortals. This doesn’t seem like it contains the power of the first gods.” Fake’s jacket formed a floating magnifying glass.

“It was emptied during the Sundering. Come on, they are opening the window in a few minutes, I have a message to send.”

Andin really did have a message to send; it was about the girl in his Advanced Fire class who spontaneously devoted herself to fire. She was a tremendously powerful spell caster, but had great difficulty executing the spells without reliving the emotions that caused her to devote to fire in the first place.

He wrote the message to Svoi and handed it to one of the window operators. “Suh-voi, is that how you say it?” asked the intern reading the note. “No the S just puts a little hiss on the voi bit; either way they will know who you are talking about, there is only one headmaster,” explained Andin.

The revolution had started, the lines of communication were open. Regular timetables had been established with both Beldur and Ventisma. Beldur and Ventisma had seen each other through Fake’s Canvas only two weeks earlier. Sending messages was simple but effective; an operator would read the message aloud to the other window, the recipient would then write it down and repeat it back to check accuracy.

Fake hid the crystal and left the lab; Andin followed after. “The window should be closed again in half an hour,” said Andin.

Fake understood, “I’ll get it then.”

“Only if it’s safe,” cautioned Andin.

Chapter Twenty-two – Pelagic portals

“I want to show you something,” said Andin.

“What’s that?” asked Sorrel.

“I could explain but I think you’ll prefer experiencing it firsthand.”

Fake excitedly asked, “Oh are you showing him the thing?” Fake closed his book and followed them, “He showed me this morning; chief you’re going to like this.”

The docks were loosely arranged by the ship size they could handle, with the smaller vessels towards the ends. The small racing sailboats bobbed against each other. “Are we taking those out? I’ve seen you sail Prince Andin; you’re awful,” said the chief.

Andin shook his head, “Just wait.” At the end of the docks was a small mastless hull covered in a tarp. Andin pulled the tarp off revealing a small craft littered with haphazard valves and piping.

Sorrel was dumbstruck, “What is it?”

Wide eyed, Fake answered, “It’s a speedboat.”

“I’d imagine it’d be difficult to go any speed at all without a sail…”

Andin hopped into the captain’s chair, “Its range and speed are limited only by the strength of its operator.” The prince’s hand caught fire and began heating the boilers. “It’s much easier on the operator compared to using water magic to push,” he explained.

“It’s powered by fire? You’ll tire before we make it out of the harbor…” said the chief unimpressed.

“Just get in,” answered Andin.

Sorrel and Fake strapped into the tiny vessel. Steam began to hiss from the piping. A series of globe valves controlled how much steam turned the flower shaped propeller. As the noise grew Andin shouted, “Don’t touch any of the piping, they’re quite hot.”

Fake untied the small craft from the dock and pushed them away. Andin let a small flow of steam bite onto the turbine turning the prop. It accelerated forward. Still going at a slow puddle the speedboat eased away from the docks towards the smooth water inside the harbor.

Sorrel maintained his placid disposition towards boat. Andin stared at him for a moment. The chief answered, “It’s clever but I don’t see how…” Mid-sentence Andin opened the flow valve completely. Steam rushed through the turbine wrenching the propeller hard against the water.

The boat shot forward and the chief screamed in surprise. Steam and spray rooster tailed from aft of the craft. Over the gale of wind Sorrel yelled, “By Vita’s grace this is fast!”

Fake yelled, “I knew you’d like it!”

Andin pointed at the two handles nearest the chief, “Grab those.” The chief complied, and the fire prince pulled hard on the steering lever. Linkages beneath their feet pulled the rudder and the speedboat cut a hard left turn into the water.

The furious ride ended when the speedboat caught the lip of a wave and crashed into the subsequent trough. Thoroughly battered Sorrel said, “Okay that’s enough.” Andin agreed; operating the boat was much more taxing than his steamcycle.

The speedboat tamed itself and gently rolled back to the docks. A small crowd had gathered to watch the little skiff tear about the harbor. When he pulled in Andin was inundated with questions. “A machine is only worthwhile if it does what magic alone can’t do,” he said to a curious shipbuilder.

“Same time next weekend?” asked Sorrel, eager for another run.

“I’ll try but it’s finals week so no promises,” answered Andin.

“I’ll be there,” said a cheery Fake who had no papers to grade or practical exams to administer.

“Just wait future history teacher; there will be many late night gradings if the Dean approves your request,” prodded Andin.

“Are we going back to the portal for the summer?” asked Fake.

“We certainly are.”

“Where do you think it will lead to?”

“All will speculate; none will know.”

In the privacy of their room Fake handed the glowing crystal to his friend. “It’s charged again,” said Fake.

“Thanks,” answered Andin. Fake locked the door and closed the curtains. Andin held the crystal in the palm of his hand waiting for his friend. “Hurry up,” urged the prince.

Fake ignored Andin and moved everything fragile far from the center of the room.

Andin still felt a little guilty about the damage he caused, “It was the first time, and we didn’t know what would happen.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Fake gripped his damaged telescope and frowned.

Andin replayed the events following Fake’s first retrieval of the crystal. The crystal worked, it captured the portal energy. In the prince’s over excitement he released the energy inside the living room with no control, causing a large explosion. Fake’s telescope was among the many things in need of repair. Andin flicked open is chronometer, “It’s time.”

“Okay I’m ready,” said Fake.

The two held their hands flat as the crystal floated between them. “Just like last time; ease it out into a disc,” instructed Andin. The energy almost overwhelmed the two. They redirected the violence back towards itself into a ring.

An anticlimactic ‘pop’ marked the work complete. Before the two boys was their own private window looking into Fake’s Canvas. Andin clicked his chronometer, “The mortal portal stands for eight minutes and fifty-nine seconds – let’s see how ours fairs.”

Like the natural portals, the window was one-sided. “Is this how the mortal’s windows look?” asked Fake.

Andin nodded, “You can only look through the front face – they said they could rotate it with a little effort.” Andin raised his hands and sent a stream of fire and earth magic towards the edge of the disc pushing it. It turned in the dorm and within the canvas. The supplies of the stranded Pelagic landing party littered the ground.

Fake looked at Andin’s chronometer, “Six minutes.” The illusionist saw the barrels he had left through the portal and felt embarrassed.

“At least they aren’t completely out of place,” comforted Andin.

Before their eyes they saw another window opening in the plane. “Right on time,” said Andin coolly. He turned to Fake and said, “Okay put it up.” Fake’s jacket dissolved into a cover for their window.

Through their shroud they saw a second window open up from Ventisma. Their window was between either. The Pelagic operator greeted the Ventian. Fake and Andin could hear their conversation. Fake looked at Andin, “Ready?”

Fake and Andin both began yelling at the operators of the other windows. The two mortal messengers could hear nothing. Fake swirled the shroud making vibrant shapes and patterns, trying anything to draw their attention. Again, the messengers continued oblivious to the two eavesdroppers.

“Interesting, so it’s a one-way affair when an immortal makes it,” commented Andin.

“That could explain how you entered my plane but couldn’t leave,” deduced Fake.

Andin was stunned; it clicked so firmly in his mind, “Brilliant.”

Extending his moment of genius Fake proposed another idea, “I guess the next step is to bring your crystal to the natural portal and see if it reacts there when it closes.”

Again, the fire prince was speechless. He had always wondered why the crystal didn’t react as his father had suggested when he crossed the portal into Ventisma. It needs the whole cycle; the opening and the closure of the portal to energize it, thought Andin.

“We have to be there for the opening,” said Andin.

“Yes we do,” agreed Fake.

**

The last week of the semester went by in a blur. Andin maintained his reputation as a tough grader, a boy with wet eyes came to ask why his otherwise perfect record was now tarnished. Andin explained, “You stopped trying after you aced your wind practical – the other disciplines may not interest you but that is no excuse for willful ignorance of them.”

The student protested briefly before Andin dismissed him; final hour complainers infuriated Andin. The upset student barged passed the incoming class as they made their way to their usual seats. It was the last meeting of his Advanced Fire class.

Eight months with such lively characters had made Andin quite fond of them. “You are a very bright group of students and it has been a pleasure seeing you develop as spell casters,” addressed Andin. He stood and handed back their final graded assignment.

“I hope to be here again after the summer; but if I’m not I’d like to think I’ve given you the tools you need to develop your skills on your own.”

The same girl who first drifted sweetly into his class eight months ago raised her hand, “Why wouldn’t you come back professor?”

If the situation had been different Andin would have liked to have been closer to her. He hesitated before answering, “It depends on what happens at the portal this summer.” The question brought to the forefront the deep uncertainty Andin felt about his future, the uncertainty he locked away, the blanketing doubt he shoved into a disused cupboard in his mind.

One by one he critiqued his student’s final projects. The prompt was simple; develop a synergistic spell using both water and fire disciplines. The rough types in the group created powerful steam spells; the academics made clever steam driven gadgets.

“To the beach, bring your weapons,” ordered Andin. The students rose and left the classroom, Andin quietly in tow behind. The thought that he may never see them again ate at his heart. As was often the case, his pupils had taught him more than he had them. They rekindled his love for fire, a discipline he had before seen only as a useful tool.

Seeing a native water user practice fire magic was enlightening. In Beldur fire keeps you warm – and therefore alive. Here it had different applications, ones that only Pelagic natives could discover. His eight students stopped at their usual outdoor lesson spot.

They formed a circle around him as he spoke, “It’s customary in Beldur for the professor to duel his upperclass students at the conclusion of the year; this is a practical application of what they have or have not learned.” The book readers looked nervous, the sailors looked excited. In Beldur the duel was compulsory.

He went on, “The duel also serves as an… airing of grievances.” Andin pointed at his beached speedboat near them, “For those not interested in testing their skills in combat; my gift to you.” Three of the students shook hands with the prince and left to tinker with their new toy.

After the first round of goodbyes Andin looked at the remaining five, “I will hold back only to spare life and limb, beyond that you will receive the level of effort from me which mirrors your own.” The group went serious, each was eager to test themselves against an immortal.

The oldest of the group, a fourth year female, volunteered herself first. At the start of the duel she conjured a large cloud of concealing steam. Andin with one sickle drawn warned her, “To deny my sight you must also deny your own; I hope you have prepared for that.” The prince stomped his foot hard into the sand sending a shockwave through the ground.

He heard the girl knocked over but she recovered quickly. Through the steam she attacked, rapier held high. The cylinder of water inside the sword gave her attacks great speed, with her opposite hand she sent spurts of flame at her instructor.

Andin parried her blows and dodged her fireballs, but not without effort. He gave up a few steps of ground before landing a kick square in her chest. She fell backwards into a shallow pit Andin had created behind her. The fire prince moved in swiftly to conclude the duel.

Sickle near her throat he complimented her effort, “Your swordsmanship is excellent, but your fire was what left you vulnerable – be faster.” His blade slithered back into his wrist as he helped her up. “It is a brave thing to go first; who’s next?”

The next three duels were enjoyable for the prince. The Pelagics had a beautiful flow to their attacks, moving constantly and probing any area for weakness. Their movements contrasted Andin’s sharper style. Four defeated students sat at the edge of the makeshift dueling grounds, only one remained.

The last had watched patiently, watching her peers move against Andin, watching Andin move against them. “Miss Peri you’re up,” beckoned the prince. It was the same cute girl Andin had an uneasy attraction to. But there was no brightness in her eyes anymore, only focus.

Seeing her ready to wage war reminded Andin of his many duels with Aura. A focused woman is a being worthy of great respect. Andin drew both sickles; he knew why she opted to go last. She wanted to win.

She held only a small shield in her off hand, keeping her dominant hand free for more effective spells. The oldest girl, now de facto referee said, “You may begin.” Andin sent a forest of sand pillars beneath her feet.

She was struck, but maintained her composure. She countered and launched a torrent of steam at the prince. Andin was blinded and instinctively shielded himself in a shell of flame. He regained his footing and burst through towards Peri.

With her shield and an orb of water she held off the prince’s fury for a few seconds. Andin was impressed by her defense but knew she couldn’t go toe-to-toe for long. She reached towards the waves and called a wall of water into Andin.

Dazed from the blow, Andin ate sand as she conjured an axe of fire. She swung the axe down into the prince. He rolled to dodge the axe and sent a platform of catapulting sand skyward. Her small frame went tumbling end over end through the air. A frantic pop of flame slowed her descent, but the landing broke her ankle.

The clear ‘snap’ was echoed with tears and the duel was over. Andin withdrew his sickles and stretchered her on a sheet of stone. “Go let the infirmary know we’re coming,” he ordered. Two students ran off ahead.

Andin looked down at his opponent to comfort her, “You have the heart of a Beldurian; it was an honor to duel you.” She smiled through the pain as the doctor set her ankle and cast it. If she was trying to impress the prince it had worked.

Chapter Twenty-three – Another year another doorway

“I can’t believe you broke her ankle,” teased Fake.

“It was a duel; I told them I wouldn’t hold back,” defended Andin.

“How long does that take for a mortal to heal?”

“Six weeks.”

Fake winced at the notion. He added, “And that was the cute one wasn’t it?” Andin didn’t answer; he watched the line of men and goods headed towards the portal site. The solstice was in four days and the entire fleet had returned to Greater Pirenna.

“The Brothers are having a meeting tomorrow, you’re invited,” said Andin.

“Oh they’ve warmed up to me have they?” joked Fake. They both knew their actions at the Hinge had made their lives in Pelagos easier.

A small repurposed courier ship slipped into the harbor with a familiar face at the helm. “Would you look at that,” said Andin happily. Fake went to find Pria and Sorrel who would be glad to hear Gunrow had stolen away from his retirement home for the portal opening.

Andin walked to help the sea dog dock his ship. “Don’t burn my ship down fire prince,” greeted Gunrow with a grin and a toss of line.

“You look awful; what happened?” replied Andin. A woman with a large sunhat tossed Andin another coil of line. Andin tied the line to the cleat.

Gunrow said, “Andin son of Bellos, may I introduce my wife Delphi.”

Andin helped her off the ship, “A pleasure ma’am.”

“Please call me Delphi,” she corrected.

Andin had seen her once before at Gunrow’s retirement ceremony. “Delphi is a Drojji name isn’t it?” asked the prince.

“It is, my mother was from there,” she answered.

Gunrow followed her off as his two deckhands finished docking the ship. “Didn’t bring the kids?” asked Andin.

“No, they stayed in Breakwater; if it’s safe I’ll bring them before the portal closes,” he answered. Andin agreed that was for the best.

Gunrow and Sorrel embraced and reminisced in the pub. The group grew as Pria, Fake, and others joined them. The rum and ale flowed into the evening. Roles reversed from their time in Breakwater as Fake and Sorrel now plotted to find Andin a woman.

As before Sorrel conjured a buxom lass from the crowd to enjoy his company with. Fake tried to get a stubborn Andin to dance to no avail. “Please, I don’t want any help with women,” said Andin over the noise.

Fake played dumb, “You say you want help with women?”

Andin politely chatted with an embarrassed girl Fake had wrangled towards him. Andin had enough and wished his friends a merry evening. He reached the door before turning around; Pria looked like she had reached her limit as well.

“I’m going to go smoke a cigar, would you like to join me?”

Pria rarely smoked but she was ready to leave and answered, “That sounds nice.”

The buzz of the nightlife faded as they stepped away. She chose the milder of the two cigars; Andin offered his lit forefinger in lieu of a match. They walked in a comfortable silence for a while, letting their ringing ears rest.

“Do you know where you will be assigned next year?” he asked.

“The same northern region probably, they don’t disseminate ship-pair assignments until halfway through the summer, in case a bad portal opening affects our strength.”

“Ah makes sense,” he said.

“What will you do if the doorway opens to Beldur?”

Andin had thought about this, “I’d have to go back home.”

Pria understood his answer but still looked disappointed, “I can imagine you feel somewhat trapped here.”

Andin pointed at the picturesque starlit harbor, “Not a bad place to find yourself stuck in.”

“You know I resented you when I was first assigned to be your nanny.”

“I loathed the idea,” he replied.

“Turned out alright.”

“Yes it did.”

They stood side by side as equals, watching the water lap against the docks. They both thought where they were a year before, Pria aboard the Bitter Chain, Andin in Caldvik. Their memories stood as constant reminder of where they came from and where they each wished to go.

Andin’s thoughts drifted to the dreamers, the mysterious man, and Odium. They must all tie in together somehow. There simply wasn’t anything else to go on; both he and Fake had torn through the Academy’s archives for anything relating to Odium. There was nothing.

“You look worried,” said Pria.

Andin snapped out of it and shrugged, “Portal openings are strange things.”

“You feel it too don’t you,” she said now whispering.

Andin knew what she spoke of, but said nothing.

She went on, “The darkness, the uncertainty, the creeping doom near the portal.”

“I feel it; those proficient in magic seem more sensitive to it,” answered Andin finally.

“I think I felt it at the Academy when I went to see the window portals for myself.”

With sincerity he cautioned, “There is a storm coming Pria – when and where it will land I cannot know. Nor can I see who or what is behind such things. But when it does, and this evil will reach all the realms of men, you must be ready.”

Pria saw in this young man the courage to stand against a faceless enemy. With a solemnness earned only on the high seas she said, “When that day comes, even if I stand in Pelagos and you in Beldur, I stand at your side.”

“Such friends are treasures, thank you,” said Andin. The prince of Beldur walked Pria to her ship and wished her goodnight. Andin made his way to his own cabin and looked forward to sleeping in.

Late in the morning Andin reconnected with Fake. “I need you to bury this beneath the portal site,” said Andin pointing to the crystal beneath his shirt. Fake knew what needed to be done and pocketed the crystal. The flagship had arrived sometime in the night; Andin forgot how imposing she was.

A courier ran up to the boys. “Prince Andin sir?” he asked.

“Yes?” answered Andin.

“A message sir, from Beldur,” the courier handed one of a large stack of envelopes to Andin. Andin gave the teenager a coin and he went off to continue his deliveries. The message was but six letters long: cong Gk -Bellos.

Fake stared for a moment, “What does that mean?” Andin didn’t want to answer; he didn’t want to explain; he wanted the note to have never existed.

“I’ll tell you when it’s safe,” said Andin gravely.

**

The meeting was less than dull. The Brothers had invited Fake and Andin as only a formality. The admiralty droned about the yearly activity and reports of heightened piracy in the northern and western isles. Andin was used to bureaucracy, Fake was not. The illusionist fidgeted.

Lin finally addressed them, “We would like to thank you personally for your heroism at the Hinge; the reports say that were it not for your efforts none of the three attacking ships would have been stopped.”

Andin replied, “Percaphia-Blanca of Silver Chain was responsible for destroying one of the vessels, will she be honored as well?”

“The Pelagic Navy does not extend honors to females outside of the service,” answered Lin.

Before he could stop himself Andin shot out, “That’s a stupid policy.”

Qin’s eyes widened, “You will not disrespect my laws before my own ears!”

Andin stared back refusing to concede just yet. Fake eagerly wished to leave. Andin swallowed his pride and tried diplomacy, “My lords, I meant no disrespect; both Fake and myself are deeply humbled and honored by your sincere thanks; I understand this is not the forum for such comments and they will not be uttered from my lips henceforth.” Fake couldn’t help but smirk at the light dusting of scathing tone in the prince’s apology.

It wasn’t enough to satisfy the gods of Pelagos but it was enough to afford Andin some breathing room. The prince decided it was the best note he could leave on at this point, he rose and Fake followed suit. Andin addressed the board, “Qin and Lin, Lords of Pelagos; gentlemen of the admiralty; we shall take our leave now.” They bowed and left.

“You’re a real charmer,” teased Fake.

Andin rolled his eyes, “They’ll let women serve but won’t honor them as civilians? What a bunch of idiots.” Andin kept cursing under his breath as they left the Bitter Chain. In Beldur merit was the only requirement for praise.

Fake intervened, “It’s alright; I know you’re upset but we still have work to do.” Andin pulled the cool evening air into his lungs.

“Don’t let a cryptic note from your father and a silly policy get under your skin,” Fake knew Andin well enough to know what did and did not bother him.

“You know I’ve never seen you get angry,” noted Andin.

“Impossible when you’re as handsome as I am,” joked Fake.

“Master of illusions and humility.”

“You can’t even imagine it, can you?”

Andin thought about it before answering truthfully, “No.”

They reached their room. Once the door shut Fake cloaked himself. Andin waited for him to finish before propping the door open to let the breeze roll in from the harbor. Fake slipped out and headed towards the portal site. A year before and the illusionist wouldn’t have been able to make the trip in one go. They were both stronger now; Fake particularly had learned how to stretch his limited supply of sand.

Forty minutes later Fake reappeared in the room, “Your necklace is buried.”

“I wear it around my neck for safe keeping,” replied Andin.

“That still makes it a necklace.”

“Do I look like the type to wear jewelry, Fake?”

“Well until now you’ve been wearing a crystal necklace since I’ve met you.”

Andin couldn’t think of anything witty to stab back with. He buried his nose further into his book. “Heeey Aaaandin,” said Fake wearing his goofiest face. Andin was still coming to terms with being a closet jewelry wearer. “Aaaandin,” Fake said again.

“What?” shot the prince.

“Guess whose cabin I visited last niiight,” Fake wore the look of a half-conqueror half-jester.

“Spare me the details.”

“I know you want to know.”

Andin tried to resist, but some dark part in his heart savored hearing about his promiscuous friend’s adventures. “Okay fine, who was it?”

“You have to guess.”

The fire prince chewed on the thought for a while. Fake eagerly awaited his guess. In situations like this Andin tried his best to find a reasonable answer. “Well, you wouldn’t be gloating if it wasn’t someone I know or know of,” he reasoned out loud. “It might be a long shot, but I think Gunrow and Delphi might be… open,” hypothesized Andin.

“Oh good guess,” complimented Fake.

“But that’s not it?”

“No. However, now that you mention it…”

“Don’t. Please just don’t,” begged Andin.

“All right, shall I tell you?”

“Get on with it you sensationalist.”

“Pria.”

Chapter Twenty-four – Through the black doorway

The two friends stood atop the ramparts surrounding the portal site. It was a surreal experience for both Fake and Andin. In just one short year they had forged an ironclad friendship. Somehow fate had guided them to an island in Pelagos, awaiting the opening of a doorway to another world. They thought of their many adventures on the high seas; the close calls, the long nights, and the sweet reward of a year well lived.

The marines formed ranks inside the defenses with the magi positioned behind them. The Brothers stood at the head of the formation.

“I wonder if she’ll have to include it in her report,” said Fake breaking the tension.

“Oh let it go already,” answered Andin who had endured countless naughty-cabin-boy jokes from the illusionist.

The air swirled and filled with energy. “Here we go,” said Andin drawing his sickles. Fake’s jacket melted into a wicked star orbiting his hand. The black speck grew into the full portal discharging prismatic energy in spectacular display. The doorway was open.

The nervous minutes passed and Qin finally stepped forward to cross through. The Brothers had agreed only one of them would ever leave Pelagos lest they be separated from their people again. Qin returned and announced, “A wild plane, the landing party may move in.”

A short while later Fake and Andin crossed through. Beyond the portal was a great forest rung with snowy peaks. The air smelled clean and earthen; the boys breathed in the new smells, “I love forested planes,” said Andin.

“It’s beautiful,” commented Fake.

A stone pylon near the portal site listed the civil planes who had ever visited. “Beldur has only connected here twice, and long ago at that,” said Andin reading the pylon.

Fake examined it himself, “Drojj? That’s the Plane of Lightning isn’t it?” Andin nodded. “This means they opened up here three times in a row just eighty years ago,” said Fake pointing to three of the inscriptions.

“That’s the way things go sometimes – I read that Aeros once opened to the Plane of Fear and of Rage back to back,” said Andin matter-of-factly.

“Do any mortal men live here?” asked Fake.

“It’s possible but it’s rarely more than the oddball hermit.”

Traffic through the portal increased as the day wore on. Great stores of food and medicine were brought through first in case the portal collapsed. A group of magi walked a cart of clockwork cartographers into the plane.

“What are those for?” asked Fake.

“The magi will take one to each edge of the plane to confirm it’s the one they think it is,” answered Andin.

“And which is that?”

Andin pointed back to the pylon; he was only half surprised Fake had missed the name at its head. “Rosewood Thicket,” read Fake aloud. A nearby stump revealed the reddish wood of its namesake, “Makes sense,” noted Fake.

“Come here,” waved Andin. Andin raised the mound of earth they stood upon into the air to survey the land.

“Quite a sight,” said Fake.

Andin scanned the plane; it was a long wedge of forest encrusted with mountains. The mound dropped frightfully as Andin focused too intently on a distant ridge-line. “Sorry about that,” apologized the prince as he steadied their platform.

The platform nestled back into the earth. “Well this is good news for them,” said Andin pointing to the swelling landing party.

“Why’s that?” asked Fake.

Andin explained, “This type of hardwood is rare in Pelagos; I’m sure the ship builders are eager to get their hands on some.”

Small parties of magi formed, each with a cartographer. “Let’s go with them,” said Andin. Fake agreed and they joined the group of three magi.

The lead magi greeted them, “Prince Andin, Fake; will you be joining us?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind,” answered Fake.

“No, not at all, the mountains will be much more manageable with an earth user,” answered the magi. Earth users were a rarity in Pelagos where wind magic was the most popular alternative element.The magi added, “We’re going to leave in the next ten minutes, we hope to cover some ground before night fall.”

Andin saw the provisions the men carried and pitied their burdens, “I think we’re ready actually.”

The small troupe headed into the woods. The trail was overgrown; mankind hadn’t set foot here in years. They each took turns leading, cutting through vegetation. One of the scout magi mentioned his father had surveyed this very plane years before. The comment reminded Andin of his own father’s ominous note. The fire prince worried Beldur’s portal had opened to a hostile plane.

An hour before dusk the lead magi pointed out a reasonably clear patch in the woods, “We’ll set up camp there.” The Pelagics set up their canvas tents, Andin pulled two slabs of stone from the earth forming a sheltering A-frame. He made another for Fake.

The prince lit the fire and the men circled around as the evening chill slipped in. “You’re a handy one to have around,” said one of the magi.

Andin looked at her, “I won’t let you freeze; but tomorrow you lot should make sure you can light your own fires.” Andin pulled a small brewing press from his satchel, “Would anyone like some tea?” There was a collective yes from his companions. Andin handed the press to the nearest magi, “Do you mind?” She tensed her arm as she conjured the water, exhaling sharply when the vessel was full. Andin thanked her and began heating the water.

Andin filled two stone cups with the tea, handing one to Fake. “Thank you,” said Fake. Andin passed the brewing press to magi, water users needed no cups. She took a small sphere of the tea, levitating it playfully in her palm. The other two magi followed suit.

They stayed up late not wanting to leave the comfort of the campfire. The magi were from the southern seas, and they described them fondly to the boys. Fake retold the story of the time when Andin failed a fire jump from the Moontide to the Thresher.

The magi laughed as Fake told the tale, “We were assisting a few research vessels studying the Cephaloi spawning season. It’s a full moon and here’s Andin careening towards the Thresher looking magnificent complete with a sparkling trail of embers.”

“Then all of a sudden he clips a rope and plummets straight into the water, right into the biggest squid orgy known to Pelagic scientists. I’m already on the Thresher and I’m just dying watching Andin try to fight off these eager male squid who had mistaken him for an egg-laden female.”

Andin wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Fake for telling the story or himself from embarrassment. Fake didn’t relent, “The commotion clues in the crew, who just start pouring salt into his wound. The crew of the Moontide is pretty rowdy but they pale in comparison to the misfits aboard the Thresher.”

“Andin is fighting his way towards the swimmer ladder while they’re yelling out, don’t fight it Prince Andin; there’s a first time for everyone! Now the squid have gone mad with lust and are periodically wrapping him up in tentacles and dragging him under to mate. Another sailor shouts, Ten tentacles means ten times the pleasure!”

“And he can’t do much to fight them off; fire magic is practically useless underwater. After a few more minutes of torture and tormenting from the crew, Andin rips out a ballast stone from inside the Thresher, batters the nearby squid, and rides the stone to the deck.”

“Now the Thresher is taking on water. Andin is just lying there cursing all of us while Captain Dohm is telling Andin that they can’t patch the hole unless he helps move the ballast stones out of the way. But Dohm can’t keep a straight face about it because the whole situation was just too perfect.”

“He’s even more pissed now telling us how much he hates us and hopes the ship sinks and all the creative ways he plans on ending our lives. But between laughs of hysteria Dohm is pleading with Andin to help because if Pria finds out that they didn’t immediately help a man overboard he and his crew are going to be disciplined, not to mention the hole in the ship’s hull.”

“Still angry and embarrassed, Andin reluctantly gives in and goes below decks into the lowest cargo bay and begrudgingly moves the ballast stones so the hole can be fixed. It has to have been the funniest fifteen minutes of my life.”

The magi, bent over with laughter, tried to comfort the prince, “I’m so sorry that happened; if it’s any consolation, Dohm and all of his men would have been lashed if they found out.” Andin didn’t answer.

Fake nudged him in his side, “Oh it’s not that bad; it’s a great story!”

Andin slowly turned his head towards Fake, “Next time you get the sloppy squid sex and I get to not help you.”

Fake unleashed his most mischievous face and agreed, “Deal.”

Andin made more tea and the magi told more of their own stories. Well past midnight they turned in and slept soundly.

In the morning they packed up camp and pushed deeper into the woods. Their progress was slowed by the overgrowth but the local wildlife had kept some of the trail intact. Periodically the magi would stop and deploy the cartographer, overlaying the new data with the old.

“Any changes from the old maps?” asked Andin.

The youngest magi answered, “No, not really, the tree line sometimes shifts but the cartographer won’t detect that, we’ll draw that in by hand over the summer. Wild planes like this are usually pretty stable.” The magi adjusted the strap on his bag.

“How much detail will it show?”

“Not much, they’re designed to be used at sea to find land masses from far away, but we make do,” he answered with pride. The mapmakers of Pelagos were the best at their craft.

The group marched on towards the northeast corner of Rosewood. Two more days of hiking and they crossed the tree line, heading up the rocky slopes. Where it was needed, Andin cut steps and holds into the rock face. The magi all had brought double strapped canteens; they used the water inside to catch themselves in a fall.

They made camp in a crevice, scaring off the lizards who called it home. “The edge of the plane is opposite this mountain,” said the lead magi patting the rock wall. “The edge is a strange place,” said another. Andin worried the strange creatures who called the edge home might be as aggressive as they were in Beldur.

The morning hike around the mountain went quickly. Andin cut a flat platform into the mountainside for the mapmakers to work on. Fake and Andin stood as near to the end of the plane as they dared. “It’s funny, I used to sit on the edge of my plane for days hoping to see something go by; some sign that I wasn’t alone,” said Fake.

Staring into the infinite distance Fake said, “You don’t even realize how terrible you felt until you can compare it to a moment of true happiness. I think that’s how I did it, absolute ignorance.”

At his side Andin answered, “No one considers themselves luckier to be your friend than I.” With no other words spoken two men stood at the precipice of existence. Knowing the failure of one meant the failure of both.

The magi had finished, “Are you coming back? We’re done.”

“No, go on without us, we’ll find our own way back.”

Sure they were now alone Fake asked, “So what does the note mean?”

“Cong is slang for conflagrate; it’s a childish way of saying kill or murder. Only a Beldurian would know that though.”

“Well then who is G-k?”

“Garruk, the god of the Plane of Torment,” answered Andin darkly.

“What? How do you even kill a god?”

Andin shrugged, “It’s only happened once before.”

“When?”

“When the First Gods sacrificed themselves to destroy Odium.”

“We might want to consider alternate solutions,” joked Fake.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been told to kill Garruk. Before I was thrown into your realm I was in Ventisma. They keep some of their dead heroes preserved in a crypt as a sort of biographical archive. One of them told me it I had to kill Garruk,” explained Andin.

“And now with your father’s message you’re thinking this is a legitimate mission,” said Fake putting the pieces together in his head.

Andin nodded, “We need to go to Torment.”

“Hey you remember that laundry list of impossible things we had to do?” asked Fake sarcastically.

Chapter Twenty-five – Swine of unusual size

“Hold on I need a break,” panted Andin.

“Do you want me to go get some help?” asked Fake.

Andin shook his head out of stubborn pride, “No, I can make it, we’re not far now.”

“It’s at least another two miles.”

Andin took a breath and raised the two stone slabs off the ground, each laden with a massive boar. The boars had attacked the pair a mile back. Refusing his offer to get help from the portal camp Fake decided instead to berate the fire prince, “You know the pigs in Pelagos were much smaller; I didn’t know they could get so big.”

Andin focused on keeping the pigs aloft. Fake went on, “Hey would it be much trouble if I jumped on? I’ve got this tourist in my shoe.” Andin continued ignoring his friend. Fake stopped to shake the rocks from his footwear.

Another mile covered and Andin had to stop. Fake eased up on the fire prince, “I really do wish I could help; you’re doing great.” The prince recovered and the boars floated off the ground and moved onward.

Fake ran ahead to the portal camp. Andin was near the limit of his stamina again; the boar felt as if they had doubled in weight. Through the trees he could hear yelling. Fake was putting on a show.

“Grab your ale, grab the minstrels, grab your lover, and light the fires because it’s time for a pig roast!” Fake painted the words ‘pig roast’ against the pink-orange sky. The illusionist’s timing was perfect. The camp was quiet with muffled confusion for just a second until Andin cleared the tree line.

The fire prince was greeted with cheers as he set the enormous animals down. He dug a shallow fire pit and wiped the sweat off his face. “If you start them now they should be ready for the opening festival tomorrow night,” he said to one of the festival chefs who already set to cleaning and dressing the pigs.

Gunrow found the boys and handed them each a pint of ale, “I’m glad you two made your way back before the opening festival.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, it’s my first,” said Fake.

“How do you like it so far?” asked Andin to Gunrow.

It was a strange marvel to see a weathered face look so excited, “It’s incredible; I can’t believe I’ve missed out on so many chances to cross through. We don’t have forests like this in Pelagos. My wife spent half the day yesterday following around some red squirrels; they had to have been three times as big as any I’ve seen back home.”

“You should go hunting while you’re here,” suggested Fake.

Andin added his suggestion, “There is a small waterfall not too far into the woods the way we came, maybe five miles in.”

Pria joined them, “Good evening gentlemen.”

“Will you be joining us tomorrow for the festival?” asked Fake.

“No, I’ll be with the ships that night; Dohm and his crew should be here though,” she answered.

Andin had expected Fake to look disappointed with her answer, but neither showed emotion about her absence. “I’m eager to see how you Pelagics handle your festivals,” stated Andin to keep the conversation going. This prompted response from all the natives, apparently there is no party quite like a sailor’s party.

Andin and a handful of other earth users helped raise a stone stage and stone tables. Fake cozied up to a group of entertainers rehearsing for the evening shows, landing himself a ten minute slot on stage. “Most of us are refractors,” said one artist.

“A what?” asked a confused Fake.

“You’re that guy aren’t you? The one from the plane last year; I heard about you,” he said not answering the question.

“You didn’t –” began Fake.

“Oh, a refractor is someone who uses water and light magic, so if you need lighting for your bit just ask one of us,” he added.

Fake began shifting his sand into various shapes and figures, drawing a small crowd of interested artists. Andin saw this and ran over grabbing his friend, “Hey Fake, will you help me for a moment?”

Fake was confused but obliged, “What is it?”

“Most people don’t know you can create illusions that look perfectly real, it would be better if you tweaked your show to hide that,” said a worried Andin.

“The Brothers know, the marines and magi who were trapped in my plane know, and everyone on our ship-pair knows; relax Andin,” disputed Fake.

Andin whispered heatedly, “Look, do what you want but if these people think you’re from the Plane of Deceit there could be trouble.”

Fake rolled his eyes, “It’s just a show; quit being so serious about the natives turning on you, it’s going to eat you up.”

Andin didn’t have anything to say to that and walked off. Fake shrugged knowing Andin would be thinking about their discussion until he agreed with the illusionist or discovered a better counterpoint. Fake resumed rehearsing. He asked the artists, “For this part can you guys light it all from the bottom?”

**

The Pelagic Navy strictly controlled the flow of men and goods between the planes. Customs was a laborious and frustrating reality for all bridge-crossers. Only minute samples of resources could be brought through before the festival. The ten days gave the admiralty board time to decide what was to be harvested and how much.

Merchants unaffiliated with the Navy voiced their disdain yearly, but the Brothers had decided long ago the tight regulation of traffic was vital to Pelagos’s ultimate safety. Luckily for the shipbuilders, the allotment for timber was generous; it would take all summer to fill the quota.

This strict regulation catalyzed the creation of the Smuggler’s Express long ago; a group of skilled criminals renowned for their ability to get anything to anyone. The smuggling ring only had one hardline rule; never work for any affiliate of the Navy.

Once a customer was blacklisted no smuggler would ever work for that client again. The tight loyalty of the group and this unanimously followed rule had made the ring nearly impenetrable for the Naval Police force tasked with dismantling the organization.

The crowning jewel of the mythos of the Smuggler’s Express was the six year period where Qin himself headed the investigation of the ring. Six years of the highest profile person in Pelagos meant it was nearly impossible for Qin to hide his subordinates’ attempts to infiltrate the illegal conglomerate. It was six years of the most profitable smuggling on record.

The ship builders waited the ten day hiatus before harvesting the riches of Rosewood Thicket, the smugglers didn’t. To a man every one of the planar cartographers had already begun the real survey of Rosewood. Bringing samples of anything they thought they could sell through the Express; animals, plants, fungi, soil, ores, gems, if it could line their pockets it crossed the portal.

“Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing?” asked Andin.

“I’ve got the basic idea down, I’ll wing it,” said Fake confidently.

Andin flipped open his chronometer, “Well we’ve got a few hours before the party starts; want to come check something with me since you aren’t busy?”

Fake shrugged carelessly, “I’m busy but I can make time for a friend.”

With some distance between them and the portal site Andin began walking with his hands out in front of him. “I’m feeling the ground,” said Andin knowing what Fake was about to ask. “When I was pulling up the stage I felt a gap in the rock beneath the soil,” he explained.

“Like a cave?” asked Fake.

“Definitely like a cave,” answered the fire prince. “I looked over some of the maps the cartographers posted; there isn’t a cave entrance near here, but there are a few streams that stop abruptly. I’m thinking there is a decent sized cave system beneath the portal site.”

Fake was intrigued, “So you’re looking for the entrance?”

“No, actually I hope there isn’t one, I’m just following the one of the cave’s branches until I think it’s safe to dig.” The duo reached the tree line and Andin began pulling cylinders of soil from the ground. “There we go,” he said as he breached the ceiling of the cave. Fake climbed down, followed by the soil Andin had excavated.

Fake nodded impressed, “Where better to hide the dirt than in the cave.” Andin jumped in leaving a small cap of grass over the entrance.

“These look familiar,” said Fake hovering over a glowing mushroom.

“Interesting,” added Andin.

“Well you were right about the stream.”

“Let’s head towards the portal site,” pointed Andin.

Every few hundred feet the cave would intersect with another branch, Andin marked their path with stones. They both saw them at the same time and stopped cold. “Andin,” said Fake.

“I see them,” answered Andin.”

“Are we where I think we are?” asked the illusionist.

“Right beneath the portal.”

Fake knelt over the discolored mushrooms. His sand formed a blade and he harvested a sample of the normal and the discolored fungi. “Can we trust Traufo?” asked Fake.

Andin nodded, “If you can get those out of this plane and to him, I’m sure he can check if they are the same as the ones we saw in his cave.”

Fake smiled, “I’ll have them out tonight.”

“You’ll miss your show,” said Andin.

The prince knew Fake wouldn’t have enough time to conceal himself, get all the way through the portal to the docks, and back before the festival started. Fake opted to not explain what he said and gave the fire prince his signature mischievous grin this time adding a wink. “Don’t wink at me,” said Andin feeling violated.

There wasn’t time to investigate the rest of the cave; the boys headed back to the entrance. They made it back as the festival was starting. The entertainers launched rockets of water filled with light magic to mark the occasion.

Kegs of ale were tapped, the rum flowed freely, and much merriment was shared. The entertainers filled the festival with their songs and jokes. Fake dazzled the audience with a host of fantastic creatures and caricatures of the Brothers.

Andin suspected his friend had been bringing more and more of the black sand with him; it wasn’t until one of Fake’s monsters grew over twenty feet tall that he realized how much. Fake had become much stronger.

Andin cheered and clapped as his friend took his final bow. Gunrow leaned over and told Andin how impressed he was. Andin laughed, “Trust me, he loved every second of it.”

Fake rejoined the group bringing with him a tray full of beer and set it down at their table. They raised their glasses as Fake toasted, “To good friends and good ale.”

“Here here,” they echoed.

“To Commodore Gunrow,” said Dohm, thrilled at the chance to properly celebrate Gunrow’s retirement.

“The mushrooms made it on the last courier ship out this evening,” said Fake proudly.

“I watched you the entire time; you never left,” said Andin suspiciously.

“No faith in me, eh?”

“You know I’m going to figure it out.”

Fake pat Andin on the back condescendingly, “Sure you will.”

Chapter Twenty-six – The hive

“Prince Andin?” said the courier at the entrance of his stone cabin.

“Come in,” he answered.

“A message sir, from Beldur,” the courier handed Andin a note and left before Andin could tip him.

It was from his old headmaster; The faculty and I wish you the best in Rosewood; our doorway opened to a small swampy wilderness. Aura and I miss you dearly. Be safe –Svoi. The fire in Andin’s heart was glowing. It was a strange feeling for the prince. After a millennia science had finally cracked portal magic. Yet the happiest that revolution had made him was a two sentence note from his old mentor. It’s a funny world we live in, thought Andin.

The fire prince left his hillside cabin, coffee mug in hand. The courier bounded down the hill back towards the portal site. The shipbuilders of Pelagos spread into the woods, harvesting the trees. Andin was impressed with the Brother’s careful management of the harvest.

The courier reached the bottom of the hill. Andin launched a barrage of stones at him knocking the boy into the ground. “I know it’s you Fake,” shouted Andin. “And stop intercepting my mail!” he added.

The illusionist’s disguise vanished and Fake walked back up the hill looking like a sad puppy. “Why did you let me get so far away?” he asked.

“So you would have to climb twice,” answered Andin.

“How did you know it was me?”

“If I tell you that, I might not know I’m being duped next time.”

“Who’s Aura?” asked a curious Fake. The illusionist pressed Andin about her while pouring himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip and stopped pandering his friend, “No one makes it quite like you.” Andin gladly accepted the compliment, secretly pleased that Fake now shared his addiction.

“I had just assumed this whole time you had some sort of romantic interest back in Beldur.”

Andin shrugged, “Not for a while now.”

They took a long roundabout path to their hidden cave entrance. As he jumped through the cave’s ceiling Fake went on, “Any reason why not?” Andin jumped in after and sealed the entrance. They had walked for a few minutes before he answered.

“There are a few reasons I guess. Until I was born there had never been any other immortals. The second gods were created after the Sundering and that was it, including you apparently. For a long time the immortals freely loved their mortal counterparts.”

“But one by one, each of the planar gods stopped their relations with mortals and each other. The grief of always outliving their children and lovers was just too much. My father was the last to stop; he finally swore off his physical desires when my sister Anni died.”

“So even if I found that one girl to go the distance with, I would watch as she grew old before my eyes, as my own sons and daughters withered and died – witnessed by everlasting me,” finished a melancholic Andin.

“I think you could make it work,” said Fake optimistically. The illusionist went on, “I live the way I do because I know that just as easily as I stumbled into this world I could fall right back to my empty plane. I owe it to myself to make the most of every good and free moment I have.”

Fake went on, “Immortal doesn’t mean immune to pain or suffering. You know that just as much as I do. In fact I think the mortals have it easy when it comes to misery and tragedy. There’s an end for them, the just reward of a life well lived and well suffered.”

“But just because there is no end in sight for us doesn’t mean there isn’t one. The first gods are dead now; and now we’re going to try to kill one of the second gods,” argued Fake. Andin listened as Fake managed to inject hope into what was once a hopeless subject for the prince.

They were now deep in the cave network. They had spent the last few days since the festival exploring each branch. There was a whole host of curious creatures living underground. Fake and Andin wished to see everything it had to offer before revealing it to the magi who would surely be interested in studying it.

The patch of discolored mushrooms put a lump in the fire prince’s throat as they walked by. The branch they were exploring sloped down sharply. Andin led the way. “Well now we know where that rushing noise was coming from,” he said as the running stream soaked his clothes.

As the tunnel grew narrower and steeper their progress stopped. “It’s only getting steeper; this stream must empty into another cave,” said Fake.

Andin agreed holding his hand against the rock, “I can’t feel the bottom, this opens up substantially, I think.”

Fake had the same look Andin had before he leapt into the grotto at the Hinge. Andin smiled, “Are you sure? We don’t know what’s down there.”

“Can you make this for me?” asked Fake who shifted his sand into the shape of a stone cylinder.

Andin pulled a hollow stone rod out of the wall of the cave. Fake poured some of his sand in it and said, “Okay now seal it.” Andin sealed the rod and Fake tested his theory.

The rod floated and twirled at Fake’s command. “Just like the magi’s canteens,” he said pleased with his work. The illusionist would use the rod to control his descent. Andin, not to be outdone curled two bracelets and anklets of stone around his limbs.

It was a race to the bottom as Fake jumped passed Andin and slid down the stream. Andin followed suit chasing his friend. There wasn’t room to overtake as the tunnel choked tighter and steeper. The incline was now near vertical and the boys shot through the roof of the massive underground lake.

The few luminous mushrooms clinging to the roof of the cavern couldn’t compete with the darkness. They plummeted into black. Over rushing wind Fake shouted, “Andin! I can’t see where we’re going!” Andin streamlined his body and passed his hesitant friend.

Growing worried that he would smash into something unpleasant Fake gripped his stone cylinder and pulled on the black sand inside it. The sand slowed Fake’s fall and Andin shot balls of flame illuminating the cave.

Andin steered himself towards the shoreline of the underground lake. Fake drifted in after him. “I win,” said Andin.

“I’m still prettier,” countered Fake. Fake tried to see the opposite side of the lake but couldn’t, the chamber was simply too large. “Will you light the back wall for me?” asked Fake.

Andin obliged and hurled a mortar high above the lake.

“We must be at least a mile below the surface now,” said Fake in awe.

Andin knelt near the water’s edge, “Does this look strange to you?”

Fake sat beside him and sniffed the water, “What is that?”

Andin smelled it too, “I’m not sure.”

Fake dipped his hand in; as he pulled his hand back out it was covered in a thin stringy material. “Gross,” he said with a matching face.

Andin rubbed the slimy threads between his fingers, “I’m glad we didn’t go swimming.”

Andin stood using his hand as a torch, “Well, we know we aren’t alone down here.” Fake remained fixated on the weird material. Andin stared at his friend, “Fake? Let’s check out the shoreline; I think there’s something over there.”

Still entranced by the slime Fake answered, “Yeah… sure.” As they walked Fake kept eyeing the water’s edge.

Andin had to ask, “What are you looking at?”

“That stringy material, I’m sure I’ve seen it before.”

“Well whatever it is there seems to be less this way,” said Andin.

Fake sighed, “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“You know what this stuff reminds me of?” asked Andin rhetorically.

“What’s that?”

“In Beldur the wildlife has all sorts of different strategies for surviving, which mostly entails just staying warm. The animals that can’t generate their own heat have to nest near the volcanoes. We have these furry arachnids that will put their webs around the entrances to the thermals, snaring their prey as they are headed home.”

Fake didn’t like the spiders of Pelagos; he cringed at the thought of a large furry one. Andin saw his grimacing friend, “They’re really friendly to humans; farmers use them as pest control for their greenhouses.” Fake wasn’t convinced.

Fake pointed at the water, “There it is again.”

“Look up ahead,” said Andin.

“Maybe that’s where it’s coming from,” speculated Fake.

The pair reached the floating mass of pale white ovals. The stringy material held the cluster together. “Eggs?” asked Andin.

“That’s what they look like to me,” answered Fake.

Andin stuck his hand in the slimy mass and grabbed one of the eggs. The prince cut open the soft shelled egg sack. An unidentifiable mass was curled inside.

Trying not to gag Fake said, “I think that’s the head.”

Unfazed, Andin removed the fetal creature from the egg; Fake had to look away. “Look at it and draw it so we don’t have to carry this with us,” ordered Andin.

Still disgusted, Fake examined it and drew a copy for Andin. “You got it?” asked the fire prince. Fake holding his mouth and nose nodded. Andin buried the egg and its contents in the shoreline.

Every few hundred feet of shoreline there was another floating patch of eggs. “This cave system must connect throughout the plane,” deduced Andin.

“Why do you figure?” asked Fake.

“Look at how many eggs there are here; if these tunnels didn’t extend deep into Rosewood’s underground these things couldn’t possibly find enough food.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous to be here?”

“Maybe for you,” teased Andin.

Another tunnel branch punched deeper underground from the lake. “Let’s check it out,” said Andin. Only Andin’s fire lit the way now. Fake groaned, “I wish those mushrooms could have made their way down here.”

“Here you go,” said Andin handing Fake a makeshift torch.

“It will stay lit?” asked Fake.

“For half an hour at least,” answered the fire prince.

Fake still looked a little nervous in the dark and cramped cave. Andin talked to ease his nerves. “That is one of the first useful spells a Beldurian kid will learn; mothers across the plane forbid children to leave to play before they have mastered it.”

“Is that why Beldur’s element is fire?” inquired Fake.

“It is; when the spirit of humanity reseeded itself amongst the planes after the world’s destruction the element most crucial to survival became the natural discipline of the plane. In Beldur’s case, fire magic is essential for surviving the frigid winters or an angry volcano.” Lecturing on Beldur reminded the prince of his students at the Academy.

“What about Pelagos?” asked Fake feeling less claustrophobic when Andin spoke.

“Despite its bountiful islands and archipelagos there is little fresh water in Pelagos save for the rain and the coconuts. The first humans needed a reliable source of drinking water; they found it through magic.”

“Wait so do the humans in Torment need pain to survive?”

Andin lowered himself down a small rocky face before answering. “The Sundering tore apart the essence of both mortal and immortal life; the second gods, we think, were formed when the flesh of the first gods latched on to a human spirit. The gods of the hostile planes are believed to be the result of Odium’s flesh latching onto mortal spirits.”

Andin stopped and grabbed Fake’s shoulder, “Listen.”

“What is it?” said a worried Fake.

“Just listen.”

“Andin why is there music a mile below ground?”

Andin snapped his fingers and Fake’s torch went out, followed by his own burning hand. The darkness gripped the illusionist with fear. Fake whispered, “Turn it back on!”

Andin whispered back, “Just wait for your eyes to adjust.”

The distant music helped Fake relax as his eyes widened in the dark. After a few minutes it was clear there was a gentle glow coming from the direction of the music. Andin motioned towards the glow, “Are you ready? We must be completely silent.”

Fake reluctantly nodded, it was still terribly dark. The pair crept slowly and deliberately. Andin kept their path as clear as he could of the looser rocks that would announce their approach. Andin signaled that Fake should conceal them; Fake’s jacket melted into a shroud.

They rounded the bend to the subterranean garden. Three-legged brellai chirped in beat to attract mates. Glowing insects darted from the branches of the cave coral. Curled split snakes rested in their nests. Singing wings filled the living city with their soft music.

Andin whispered, “They eat the glowing fungi; the whole population will slowly crawl through the cave eating and music making as they go.” The contrast of unforgiving cave and lush oasis made the whole scene more surreal. They watched the machinery of the microcosm for an hour before a hidden threat scared the creatures into hiding.

Chapter Twenty-seven – The calm before the storm

“Do you know anyone else we can ask?” asked Andin as Fake recreated the fetal egg creature.

Professor Orrin shrugged, “I can’t think of anyone; it’s been a few weeks since you sampled it so maybe a more developed egg can shed some more light on our little mystery.”

“There was a pale stringy substance holding the egg bunches together,” added Fake.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what it is,” sighed the professor.

“Well the magi on site could really use your expertise,” pleaded Andin.

Orrin had no desire to cross into a wild plane and do field research in a horrid cave. Andin looked at Orrin incredulously, “You remember when –.”

“I knew you were going to bring that up,” grumbled Orrin. Orrin agreed to go.

Back at the docks Orrin boarded a separate ship from the boys. The biologist asked, “You aren’t coming with me?”

Fake answered, “We’ll be back in Rosewood in a few days; we’ve got one other thing to take care of.”

“See you there,” waved Andin as their ship pulled out from the docks. Orrin didn’t return the gesture. “Isn’t it strange that the extraplanar biologist is such a shut in?” commented Andin.

“All you academics are strange,” poked Fake.

“Oh come on, you can’t be throwing me in the same bunch as him.”

“Remember when you bought six coffee percolators so you could see if you could combine them into one ‘super-brewer’ as you called it.”

“That’s different,” refuted Andin.

“No it isn’t, it’s the same obsessiveness that keeps Orrin’s nose firmly inside his books, or Perc in her observatory.”

The winds had changed with the season lengthening the journey, the two stayed overnight in Carmen Island before continuing on to Traufo’s. Nearing their destination Fake pulled Andin from his cabin, “I’ve got a surprise for you.” Andin shut his book at headed topside.

“What is it?” he asked. Fake handed him one of two cigars.

Andin’s eyes widened when he saw the label, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“I’ve been saving them, but seeing as we’re about to get more,” Fake explained as a sliver of his black sand cut each cigar perfectly.

“Clean cut,” complimented Andin.

“Thanks, would you kindly?” asked Fake pointing at his unlit cigar.

Andin lit Fake’s and then his own. The rocking ship and savory tobacco hypnotized them. They talked about everything and nothing at all. Traufo’s island grew in the distance. Fake puffed on his cigar and said, “We’re leaving Pelagos aren’t we.”

Andin frowned and answered, “We have to get to Torment.”

Fake elaborated, “And we can’t risk opening a portal to it from here can we.”

“There is no way I would put the people of any civilized plane in that kind of danger.”

“This has something to do with Traufo’s island?”

“The cave with the glowing mushrooms, Traufo’s message said they were nearly identical. The discolored ones are the interesting ones. If portal energy is what darkened them in Rosewood, and I think it is, it stands to reason the exact same thing happened here.”

“Then how did a portal open up on his island?” asked Fake. The illusionist had connected the dots before Andin could answer, “The mystery man,” he said firmly.

Andin nodded and added, “Unless there is something else at play here he seems to be the only reasonable explanation.”

“So someone has already discovered how to steer the portals,” reasoned Fake.

“Yes, and we have no idea if they are on our side or not.”

Stating the facts aloud steeled both their hearts. This wasn’t just another adventure with Pria and her crew. They quietly let the rocking of the ship relax their nerves. Fake flicked his finished cigar into the water, followed by Andin.

The ship slid into the small dock, Fake and Andin were the only passengers. The three man crew offloaded a pallet of cargo and left for their homes on the island. Walking down the trail Andin asked, “Are you sure she’s okay with us staying with her?”

Fake reassured Andin, “She said it was fine in the letter, besides I’m good at this sort of thing; it’s only awkward if you make it awkward.” Andin had his doubts; Perc was a fiery one. These doubts were strengthened when Fake sheepishly asked him to knock.

Andin looked at Fake as if he had already committed a hilarious blunder. Fake tried to play off his nerves while Andin knocked. To their surprise Perc answered from behind and said, “Right on time.” She held a basket of fruit against the top of her linen skirt.

Once inside she set the basket down and hugged both of her friends. There was a refreshing bubbliness to her as the three caught up. “How’s Rosewood?” asked Perc.

“If you don’t visit you’re seriously missing out,” answered Andin.

Perc kept peering out the windows until it was night time. She stood, “Come on I want to show you something.” They headed out to Perc’s personal telescope. “Just a moment while I align it,” she said. She waved to Andin first, “Here take a look.”

Andin knelt and looked through the device. He saw a speck of light with a thin tail. “Is that a comet?” he asked excitedly.

Perc smiled, “It is.”

Fake looked through the telescope next asking, “What’s a comet?”

“Well we’re still trying to figure that out exactly. They follow the same laws that Keppler described three hundred years ago; so we know they are in the local void like the other planets. The generally accepted notion is that they are some sort of tiny planet with a strange orbit and very unstable geology,” answered Perc.

“Unstable?” inquired Andin.

“The tail – it has to be something coming off of the object, like smoke or debris,” she explained.

“How can it be burning if the void is so cold?” he reasoned.

“The tail gets longer the nearer it gets to Vita so heat must be a factor.”

“Vita?” interjected Fake.

“The sun; astronomers named it after her,” said Perc.

The trio ambled through the night watching the stars as they had done almost a year before at the Academy. Andin’s uncertain future still chewed at the corners of his mind, but the prince did his best to enjoy the moment. Fake smiled looking through the telescope, “This one has to be my favorite, the one with the rings.”

“It never gets old does it,” agreed Andin.

“Could you imagine going there?” asked Percaphia.

“To Serenity?” said Fake.

“All of it; the moon, the planets, the comets, the sun, and anything in between. Riding on some sort of great ship sailing through the stars. It would be magnificent. Who needs a telescope if you can just go there,” said Perc loftily.

Andin looked up wondering if such a ship could exist. Maybe, he thought. “A void ship,” he said aloud.

“There isn’t any air in the void,” said Fake.

Perc shrugged, “I guess we’ll have to bring some Aerosians.”

The three star gazers were struck by the legitimacy of Perc’s suggestion. “Your brother is a shipwright, have him whip something up for us,” joked Fake. They discussed what they imagined the requirements would be for a void ship to work on their way to the pub.

The village bar greeted the three cheerily as they entered. The bartender handed each their favorite drinks. Traufo sat alone in the corner sipping whisky and reading a novel. Andin ordered another glass for Traufo and excused himself.

He sat down in the corner booth with Traufo. “I ordered you a glass of prune juice,” he teased.

Traufo slipped a bookmark into his novel and answered, “Prune juice is good for your balls.” The nonchalance with which he delivered his reply reminded the prince that Traufo would win any verbal sparring match.

“Thank you for looking at the mushroom samples,” said Andin.

Traufo conjured a tin of cigars from his hidden bag and handed them to the prince, “You’re welcome.” Andin offered a cigar to Traufo. He shook his head politely saying, “No thanks, I don’t smoke.” The fire prince raised an eyebrow but wasn’t surprised by the answer; everything about Traufo was quizzical. Andin read the title of Traufo’s novel as he sipped and smoked, he hadn’t heard of it or its author before.

“I visit that cave often, some of the mushrooms there give the tobacco a delightful earthiness.”

“When did the discolored mushrooms appear?” asked Andin.

“I first saw them a year and a month ago.”

“How do they look now?”

“Almost back to normal.”

The bartender refilled Traufo’s whisky glass on cue while Andin assembled the evidence in his mind. Traufo placed the book in his bag and stood to leave. “Wait,” protested Andin.

Traufo pointed to the glass, “One is enough for me, but thank you.”

Traufo tipped his head towards Percaphia and Fake, “She won’t mind drinking it.”

There was no use in trying to stop him; Andin raised his glass in salute. Traufo leaned in to give his parting advice, “The Express turns a blind eye to those with coin.” His words didn’t resonate with Andin, but the prince knew they were important all the same.

Traufo left another tin of cigars with the bartender as payment and exited the pub. Two local girls had joined Perc and Fake at the bar. “Your friend is quite generous,” said Fake eyeing the tin.

“What do you mean?” said Andin who realized he had never seen a Traufian cigar in a shop.

“That’s a month of your teaching salary,” answered Fake. Fake looked at the bartender who nodded and changed the etched glass card in the harmonic choir. “I’ve got a surprise for you all,” grinned the illusionist.

Fake picked up the guitar hiding in the corner of the bar and began tuning it.

Andin had never seen Fake hold any instrument before, “You play guitar?”

Fake looked like a child who had been caught painting the walls, “Just a little.” He strummed a chord and was satisfied with the noise.

“Scotch?” offered Andin as they sat down nearer to Fake and the harmonic choir.

“It would be a shame to waste it,” answered Perc.

The music box offered a steady rhythm for Fake to work with as he began strumming and plucking. His first few songs were simple and cleanly played. Perc leaned in close to Andin’s ear and asked, “Do you think he’ll sing?”

“Oh he’ll sing,” answered the prince.

Chapter Twenty-eight – Treetops and nighttime visitors

“She said she would come to Rosewood after she sent a few messages to the other plane’s astronomers.”

“I thought we went there to check out the cave,” wondered the illusionist – he hadn’t set foot in the cave during their trip.

“I did while you were out,” said Andin.

“Why was Perc in your bed a few nights ago?”

“She said she was scared of the storm.”

“But you didn’t?” asked Fake somehow knowing the answer.

“No.”

“What’s with you man?” asked Fake perplexed.

Andin shrugged, even he wasn’t sure. Andin looked over his shoulder; they were alone on the bow of the courier ship. “Fake, what’s the Express?” he asked.

Fake looked over his shoulder to confirm it was indeed safe to talk. “They would kill me a hundred times over if they found out I told you anything,” he said smiling.

“It started as a smuggling ring from the Brother’s restrictive customs regulations. It grew into something bigger though. Now it serves as facilitator for nearly anything you can think of; goods, services, publications, I even got the glass music card I used at the pub that night from it,” explained Fake.

“It’s tricky for an outsider to get in; the management is the definition of cautious paranoia. But my particular set of skills was too irresistible for them; I was recruited a week after we reached the Academy.” Andin’s eyes widened in surprise when Fake said this.

“That explains the mushrooms,” laughed Andin.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before; the whole secret society thing was just so irresistible,” apologized Fake.

Andin wasn’t bothered, “These things, they take time.”

“Why did you ask?” questioned Fake, returning them back to the subject at hand.

“I need you to find out if our mystery man paid his way from Perc’s island to the Prestle’s.”

“That I can do,” said Fake looking over his shoulder.

Andin looked back from the bow at the crew, “Are these guys in it?”

“Those two are,” pointed Fake subtly.

“How can you tell?”

“Well for one a ton of courier sailors are, but the Express displays membership by showing any two of five markers.”

“Which are?” asked Andin curiously.

Fake shook his head, “I’m sorry but my contacts won’t be useful if I get expelled for sharing too many secrets.” Andin wasn’t bothered; he was already certain his theory was correct. The mystery man had somehow opened a portal on Perc’s island, sailed to the Prestle’s, and murdered them.

Awhile later Fake entered their cabin. Fake said nothing but looked at Andin and nodded, confirming his theory. They both wanted to discuss the implications but it was too great of a risk on the small courier vessel. The boat rocked them steadily forward as it would for the rest of the voyage.

**

Back in Rosewood Andin looked through the telescope and was impressed with what Fake had made, “You’re getting good at this.”

“Thank you,” acknowledged Fake. The image went fuzzy as Fake started kicking at a pair of ferrets rummaging through his bag. “Get away you misfits,” he demanded.

“They’re you in rodent form,” teased Andin.

Andin looked at the copy of the map the cartographers had given him. “Here, this drawing of the tree means something of interest,” pointed out Fake who joined him.

Andin looked at the symbol, “It looks the same as the rest of them.”

Fake smiled, “Ah that’s the point; the untrained eye sees another tree signaling more forest, which considering the plane we’re in, is quite expected.” Andin was stunned at how ubiquitous the Express really was, he thought it an amateur mistake to have missed it. “See here, the rest of the trees on the map look identical to the one in the legend,” explained Fake. He was thrilled the normally perceptive prince hadn’t picked up on any of this, “Whereas this one has a third branch drawn; which is a costly pen stroke for a mapmaker drawing an entire map of a forest plane.”

“So what is it?” asked Andin.

“Well, if the cartographers hid any more information in the map it could be traceable, we’ll just have to go look.”

Andin was eager to distract himself from the frightening realization that someone had figured out how to control portals before Beldur even knew it could truly be done. Fake had confirmed the stowaway theory of the mysterious man before they had even left the Silver Chain. The very same smugglers who had given him passage had also sailed Fake and Andin to Carmen Island.

A handful of loggers had taken a break off of the path the two friends walked down. “Oi! Heroes of the Hinge!” saluted one of them holding his half eaten sandwich aloft.

Andin nudged Fake, “I know you want to; go on, give them a show.” Fake obliged and sent his sand at them in the forms of beautiful women.

The loggers cat called and cheered as they walked by. Fake’s illusions dissolved and the loggers sang, “Heroes of the Hinge, the two great friends; scum pirates ye singed, blessed by the winds.” As they walked further into the woods

Fake noted, “It’s noon and they were drinking… I love sailors.”

Andin agreed, “Me too.”

The sun reached the horizon the same time they reached the point of interest on the map. They looked around for a few minutes at seemingly inconspicuous forest. After a few minutes of searching through the twilight they found nothing.

“Maybe we’re in the wrong spot,” said Fake.

Craning his neck Andin said, “My dad always used to say; when in doubt, look up.”

“Like to the stars?”

Andin scrunched his face, “What? No, buddy, he can turn into a dragon; he can fly, he meant look up for him.”

“Wait, can you turn into a dragon?”

Andin kept the contemptuous look, “No, and don’t say that you can, that doesn’t count. Besides I’m taller than he is, so it all works out.”

Fake didn’t understand, “What’s put you in a goofy mood?”

“Look up!” shouted Andin.

Fake saw the small network of tree houses and asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Andin pulled a few stones out of the soil and tossed one to Fake, “Let’s check it out.” At the prince’s command the stones lifted them up to the lowest platform of the tree houses.

“I think I’m going to start keeping some of my sand in a container again so I can lift myself,” said Fake.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask, how much more sand do you keep on yourself now?”

“About five times as much,” said Fake in the exact opposite of modesty.

“Nice.”

They walked around the small wooden houses. There was only darkness behind the windows. “This place looked nicer from the ground,” said Fake. “I don’t think anyone has been here for years,” said Andin. Rodents fled as the prince opened the door. Dust and tree pollen covered everything.

Fake joined him inside the small shack. “They say the mortals who leave for the wild planes never last long on their own,” said Andin.

“Why is that?” asked Fake. Andin shrugged. They split up to search the remaining cottages. Fake shouted, “Andin come look at this.”

“What is it?”

“I saw it through the window, the door is barred.”

The well decayed corpse of a man sat holding a frayed book. Fake’s sand cut through the door granting them entrance. Andin lit the room and examined the rotted skeleton. “I thought it would smell worse,” observed Fake.

There was a small hole in the man’s skull. “Well I think I know how he died,” said Andin.

The fire prince grabbed the book to check it. He leafed through the first few pages, “Like I thought, he was a Drojji.”

“Is that what these are for then?” asked Fake holding up a glass tube filled with sheets of rolled metal.

“Yes, lightning users can use those as lamps,” answered Andin looking up from the book. “Oh he didn’t come here voluntarily; he and his small group were exiled,” summarized Andin. “Apparently, it was the fault of some woman called Numillai – some sort of legal official by the sound of it. It’s dated year eight hundred forty-five. So they first came here seventy-nine years ago.” He flipped towards the middle. “Last entry is eleven years after they arrived.”

Fake leaned in, “Does it say what happened?”

Andin sat down to better focus on the journal before realizing the corpse was still in the room with them, occupying the very chair he had intended to use. “Let’s go outside,” he suggested.

“Good idea; I’m going to check the other houses,” said Fake. Andin gave Fake a torch and sat at the edge of the platform with his feet dangling over the forest floor.

A few minutes later the illusionist returned, “I found another journal, and you’ll want to look at one of these houses – it’s creepy.”

Andin guessed, “It might be our dead guy’s place, the last few pages are really difficult to follow, lots of references to a liar and a deceiver.”

Fake nodded, “It won’t be hard for you to guess what’s carved into the desk in his room then. “What else did you find out?” he asked.

“Well eleven years after these people were exiled from Drojj a portal opened up, but they never saw anyone come through. After the portal opened their little commune began tearing itself apart.”

“They never went through to check?” asked Fake.

“They did, that’s the strange thing; he wrote that the portal didn’t work, they would cross through and up right back in Rosewood. Eventually, they started killing each other and this guy was the last one alive. He said they had been lied to, deceived; he says it over and over in the end.”

“You think they opened up to the Plane of Deceit?” asked Fake.

“It seems that way; there is so little information about Deceit. This man’s last entry sums it up really: The lies, the lies, the lies, the dirty lies, the clever lies, the tricky lies, the lies screeching in my head; and I’m going to dig them out… goodbye little lies, little lies, little lies.” Fake made a sour face as Andin read aloud.

“Let’s go back to the camp,” said Fake feeling ill.

“You don’t want to spend the night here?” asked Andin sarcastically.

“You can stay if you like,” quipped the illusionist.

“Are you kidding? This place is awful,” laughed Andin as he jumped fifty feet to the ground. Fake waited for Andin to send him a stone to ride down. “What are you waiting for?” he asked.

“For you to use your sand, princess,” said Andin.

“It’ll slip through my fingers… it’s sand,” replied Fake.

“You control it; you can do it.”

Andin raised layered sheets of dirt, “Here, this will slow your fall if you can’t do it.” Fake sighed; he knew he had to try for his friend. His jacket melted into two hand holds. He pushed against them to check they were solid. Fake’s eyes were glued shut and his decent was excessively slow. “Are you serious?” asked Andin in disbelief. “I’m never lifting you again,” he added.

The fire prince sent a streak of flame towards Fake still nervously lowering himself from the treetops. Fake crashed through Andin’s sheets of dirt and stopped with a thump on the forest floor. The illusionist brushed the dirt and leaves off himself and threatened, “I’ll get you for that.” Andin felt secure despite the threat.

“Let’s get back,” said the prince.

They continued walking and joking through the evening until they arrived back at camp. Andin yawned, “Well I think that just about does it for me; we can check the next point on the map tomorrow.” Andin headed up his hill and Fake headed into the main camp.

The fire prince fell fast asleep until he was awoken just before dawn. “Prince Andin, I’m sorry, wake up please,” said a whisper.

Andin groaned in protest, “What?”

The whisper went on, this time more urgently, “Prince Andin, please wake up.”

Andin sat up and asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Peri,” she whispered.

Andin lit a small fire in his hand, it was her. He looked confused, “What are you doing here?”

She whispered angrily, “You broke my ankle and that’s what you say to me?”

Andin immediately felt guilty for forgetting about the duel, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

She moved closer to the fire prince but didn’t touch him or the bed. “It’s alright I forgive you, I’m better now,” she whispered. She moved in to kiss him. Andin screamed as her flesh tore and burst into an angry eyed demoness. Her skin dripped a nasty fluid as she howled at him. The fire prince had fallen off of the bed in a scramble to escape the beast. Andin overcame his fear and conjured his sickles to slay the monster.

The moment the prince stood ready to fight the demoness evaporated to the sound of Fake’s laughter. Between fits the illusionist squeezed out, “You… should’ve… seen the look… on your face!” Fake’s eyes teared up as the prince tried to wind himself down from the faux attack.

“That was…” stammered Andin in disbelief. “That was you?” he finally managed.

“Obviously,” giggled Fake.

Andin sighed and collapsed on his bed, “You’re evil you know that?”

“You started it,” countered Fake.

“And you finished it,” said a shaken Andin. Fake’s prank debt was now paid in full.

“Here, I’m sorry; I needed it to wake up while it was still dark,” apologized Fake as he tossed Andin his chronometer. Andin wondered how Fake had managed to steal it. “Come on we both know you won’t sleep after that; let’s just get going.”

“Yeah,” agreed Andin as he dressed and nervously laughed with his friend.

Chapter Twenty-nine – Brol Under’s inept leftovers

“Hear anything else about the eggs?” asked Fake.

“No, but I saw Professor Orrin arrive last week,” said Andin.

“This should be it,” said Fake as they stopped halfway up the mountain.

“I don’t see anything.”

Fake looked nervous, “You don’t think it’s another Rock Gulver nest do you?”

Andin shrugged, “I thought you said this spot wasn’t even on the map.”

“Sort of, it’s not on any of the new ones; there was a strange symbol I didn’t recognize on the very first Pelagic made map of Rosewood. The mapmakers sometimes will try to hide things from even other members of the Express.” Fake spun to scan his surroundings as he relayed his message.

“Let’s have a look at the symbol,” said Andin.

A part of Fake’s jacket reformed into a copy of the map. Andin looked at Fake curiously, “You’re sure that’s what it was?”

Fake nodded, “You know I don’t forget stuff I need to remember.”

“Well that’s Mortem’s symbol; we use it in Beldur to mark the volcanoes we use for cremation,” explained Andin.

“You think this is a graveyard?”

“No, doesn’t make sense for a wild plane,” answered the prince.

“A shrine?”

“That’s still odd for a wild plane, but seems more reasonable.” The boys scanned the surroundings but saw nothing manmade.

“Why hide a shrine?” asked Fake thinking aloud.

Andin scanned the mountainside with his hands, “Maybe it’s been destroyed; I don’t feel anything.”

Fake walked face first into an invisible wall. The illusionist fell and tumbled uncontrollably down the slope. “Fake!” yelled Andin as he pulled up a slab of stone to stop his friends fall.

“Thanks,” said a battered illusionist. Fake rode his black sand back to the invisible wall, now cautiously leading with his hands.

“That’s a new one,” said Andin knocking on the unseen wall.

“How did they make this?” wondered Fake aloud.

“I want to know too; I think this is the handle.” Andin pulled on what he found. The door wouldn’t budge. “A locked, invisible door,” said Andin flatly turning to Fake.

“I know you want to, go ahead,” said Fake giving Andin permission to destroy the door. The illusionist always preferred to try to operate undetected but now wanted revenge on the hidden structure that had so rudely attacked his face.

Andin drew a sickle and plunged it into the crack between the double doors. He pulled again and the door finally gave way. The black corridor descended into the side of the mountain. The narrow staircase ended at a small antechamber with tall thin doors leading to the rest of the shrine. “Which one should we go in?” asked Fake.

“Middle,” said Andin because it was the obvious choice.

The hallway led to the main shrine room. “Why would you build a shrine in a wild plane?” thought Andin aloud as he ran his fingers along the marble altar. Fake examined some trinkets but offered no guesses. Andin took a stab at his own curiosity, “Maybe Rosewood wasn’t just an exile dump for the Drojji.”

“Or maybe this place wasn’t annihilated in the Sundering,” suggested Fake.

Andin paused and thought about the possibility of such a thing, “Now that is a bold theory.”

Fake held a gold coin aloft, “It could explain why this symbol looks like one of the old empires sigils.” He tossed the coin to the prince.

Andin didn’t recognize the symbol on it, “This is from the old empires?”

Fake admitted it was only an educated guess, “It looks similar to something I’ve seen in a history text, but I can’t be sure.” Andin didn’t need to ask Fake to keep it for later; he assumed his friends pockets were already being filled with valuable knickknacks.

There was a thick black book in the center of the altar. Andin flipped it open. “What is that?” asked Fake. “A ledger for the dead I think – but there aren’t any names in it,” noted Andin as he leafed through the first pages. Fake swung his torch to a low shelf and said, “Maybe you write death ledgers from back to front.”

Andin enjoyed the heartiness of the paper as he flipped through generous chunks of the ledger. He reached the back cover and began reading from the back of the book, “Good call buddy.” Andin examined the names and dates, “These are all around year five hundred, and they are all Ventian names. It isn’t just a shrine, it’s a crypt.”

“Did Ventisma open up here around then?”

“The stone pylon isn’t clear in my memory anymore; I’m not sure,” answered Fake.

“They wouldn’t have built it unless…”

“They were staying here,” said Fake finishing Andin’s thought.

“Ventians are freakishly devoted to Crepus; I’ve never heard of any born in the Plane of Death permanently leaving their realm.”

“Well you have now,” corrected the illusionist.

Andin left the book open and left the main chamber, “Let’s check the other ones.” Fake agreed and they returned to the anteroom. The two left wings of the shrine were Ventian style crypts, similar to the ones Andin visited in the Plane of Death itself. After checking both of them Fake shrugged, “Just a bunch of dead people.”

An empty voice broke their train of thought, “How may I be of service?” They both jumped at the sound of another being. A floating skull and spine filled with pale blue light hovered near them.

Fake whispered, “What is that?”

The skull and spine answered, “I am the remains of Brol Under; I can assist you with burial rites.”

Andin smiled at their lucky break and pat Fake on the shoulder, “The Ventians are damn good record keepers; you would have a field day in their historical archives.”

The skull and spine bobbed as Fake poked it, “Odd,” he said.

“How shall we address you?” asked Andin.

“You may call me Brol,” answered the skull.

“How are you Brol?” asked Andin.

“I am a reanimation; I am not alive,” he answered.

“Right – what is this place?”

“Rougewood Sanctuary.”

“When was it built?”

“After-Sundering year four hundred ninety-nine,” answered Brol.

“Why was it built?”

“To honor the cycle of life and death and pay respects to the High Collector Mortem.”

Andin took an aside to explain to Fake, “They call Mortem the High Collector because they believe all mortal souls end up in his care.” The fire prince wasn’t satisfied with the answer Brol gave and asked again, “Why was it built here?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything else regarding that subject,” he answered.

“But Rosewood isn’t in Ventisma; why was the sanctuary built here?” tried Andin again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything else regarding that subject,” answered Brol.

“Do you have an index?” Andin had no desire to play guessing games with the reanimation.

“Yes, please follow me.”

Brol bobbed through a thin teardrop gap cut in the top of the doorway to allow the skull’s passage. They entered the rightmost door. Fake asked, “So they leave those reanimations to help visitors?”

Andin nodded, “Yes, they also serve many other useful functions.” Brol’s chamber was a small compartment of a larger room.

“My index is kept here, if it has been destroyed or is missing I can recite it to you,” said Brol.

“No, it’s here,” stated Andin. Fake kept staring bewildered at Brol while Andin read his index. Andin found a reasonable place to start, “Guest entries,” he said.

“Name of the deceased?” asked Brol.

“Uncategorized,” answered Andin.

Brol complied, “There are two uncategorized guest entries. Entry one: After-Sundering year eight hundred fifty-six, unknown visitor. Entry two: After-Sundering year nine hundred twenty-five, two unknown visitors.”

Fake was impressed, “We’re already logged in.”

Brol answered, “A temporary log was generated when I first detected life; it will be finalized upon your departure.”

“Do you have any further information about uncategorized entry one?” pressed the fire prince.

“No further information available.”

“For ‘damn good record keepers’ this one is useless,” noted Fake.

“Something’s wrong with it,” said Andin.

Brol bobbed up and down, his spinal cord curled idly around his vertebrae. Andin stared at Brol, “Brol can you check your systems please?”

Brol complied, “Running diagnostics.” Brol’s baby blue glow flickered briefly before he answered, “Check comple –” and crashed to the floor. His glow went out.

Andin picked up the skull to check on Brol when his spinal cord and brain stem slid onto the floor. “Well that’s not good,” said Fake dryly.

Looking through Brol’s eye socket Andin chimed in, “No it’s not; the rest of his brain is missing.” They returned Brol to his chamber. “This place is so peculiar,” said Andin trying to piece the puzzle together.

“Why hide the entrance to a crypt?” asked Fake.

“You’re right, there’s got to be more to it than that,” said Andin.

“Why put a useless reanimated guide in it either?”

Andin’s eyes widened, “Brol you might not be so useless after all; Fake you check the left wing, I’ll search the right.”

Fake caught Andin’s excitement but didn’t know why, “What are we looking for?”

Andin smiled, “Find a door Brol can’t go through.” Fake ran off to search his branch of the mausoleum.

“Andin! I’ve found it!” shouted the illusionist. Andin ran to his friend’s voice. “I actually passed it twice thinking it was a normal door, but look,” said Fake as he sent a small ball of sand up to the Brol-shaped opening in the door. The sand tapped against the gap, “Glass,” said Fake. They opened the door and entered the sub-wing of the crypt.

The standing stone tombs offered no secrets. “It could be invisible like the entrance so feel around,” suggested Fake eager to keep his nose safe. One by one Andin, pulled the stone lids off the tombs. The standing skeletons tumbled out in a clatter to the floor. Fake stared at the prince.

“I’ll put them back,” said Andin innocently.

The next lid resisted Andin’s magical pull. “Why lock a tomb?” he asked happily as he forced the lid, breaking the hidden locking mechanism. Metal pins fell to the floor when the lid gave way from the sarcophagus.

Fake gave Andin a gentle slap on the face, “You’re a model of subtlety,” and descended the hidden staircase.

The secret level was a massive chamber gridded with columns. There were rows upon rows of lab tables filled with glass vials and microscopes. “I’m going to make some coffee,” said Andin setting his bag on the first table he could reach. Fake looked at his friend incredulously. Andin pointed to the back wall filled with books, journals, and lab notes. He began heating some water and said, “We’re going to be here for a while.”

Chapter Thirty – Blood driven compass

“Ventian’s are a strange bunch,” commented Fake with a stack of books and journals under his belt.

“I don’t want to read anymore,” sighed Andin rubbing his eyes.

“Let’s take a break.”

“Let us.”

They stood and headed for the surface. The sun had set but a few streaks of its light still muscled out some of the stars. “Not as late as I thought it was,” commented Fake.

“Time slows when you are mindlessly reading notes about diseases,” groaned Andin. Fake tossed rocks down the mountainside.

“I think it’s interesting; something so small can kill a mortal.”

“Lots of things can kill mortals.”

“What can kill an immortal?” inquired Fake.

“That’s an important question.”

“Whenever we get to Garruk let’s just chop him up and toss him over the edge of the plane.”

Andin looked at Fake and said, “Not a bad idea.”

Fake stood up and stretched, “You ready?”

Andin followed suit, “Yep.”

They headed back into the shrine, cautiously feeling for the invisible door. Brol had reassembled himself and was floating in the antechamber. “Go back to sleep,” commanded Andin. Brol acknowledged and returned to his quarters.

“You don’t think he can help?” asked Fake.

“Normally, the Glials are very helpful; but not without his brain,” answered the fire prince.

They sat back down in the lab. The evening turned into early morning as the boys slowly unearthed the purpose of the laboratory. “They weren’t trying to make a new plague; they were looking for a cure for their own,” realized Andin. “The Ventians are plagued?” said Fake curiously. “Yes, and death magic is the only way to keep it from killing you,” explained Andin.

“Well that explains why it’s here in Rosewood; what better way to quarantine than to simply move off of your home plane,” reasoned Fake.

“Their strategy is what’s interesting, and why we were so confused at first. They thought they could stop it by combining the energies of the other elemental planes, planes who aren’t plagued. I thought they were separate research notes jumbled together, but they are all aimed at the same goal,” said Andin.

Fake furrowed his brow, “Half the stuff I’ve been reading has been about navigation systems and comparisons of geography pre- and post-Sundering. I think elemental energy was only a piece of it. This stack here is all about these ‘probes’ they sent out guided by something they called ‘origin samples’ but in the diagrams it just looked like chunks of meat.”

“Probes?” asked Andin.

“Here, take a look,” motioned Fake.

Andin scanned the probe diagram. “Here, see this big prism? It’s used to store energy, but prisms are like leaky buckets, it needs to be used quickly,” His fingers traced along the diagram, “This main channel sends the energy to this… well it’s an exhaust; one big one and four small ones on pivots.” Andin looked up a Fake a little confused, “I think it’s supposed to fly.”

“Would that work?” asked Fake.

“Well, no, it’s too small.”

Fake elaborated, “These few pages say they’ve launched quite a few. For some reason they were unable to retrieve any. Here are the drawings of the observed trajectories the probes took from here.” Fake handed Andin a large folded sheet of paper covered with curving dotted lines. Andin couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“Where were they launching these from?” asked Andin sounding worried.

“I’m not sure; the diagram doesn’t look anything like Rosewood,” answered the illusionist.

Andin walked to the opposite wall of the lab lined with metal cabinets. One set of doors was different from the others. “Why didn’t we check before,” said Andin as he angrily opened the doors. Behind which was a small metal box suspended by cables.

Fake sided up to his friend and looked down the gap between the box and the shaft, “That’s a long way down.”

“It goes all the way down,” said Andin.

“To the bottom of the plane?” asked Fake.

“To the bottom,” said the fire prince. There were operating instructions next to the prism that powered the lift. Andin filled it with magical energy and stepped inside. The prince cut two stones from the wall and gripped them tightly, “Be ready if it falls; it’s centuries old,” he warned.

Fake stepped inside and Andin threw the lever. The lift descended for ten minutes before stopping. “This doesn’t look like the bottom,” said Fake looking around the small cave they had stopped in.

“It can’t make it in one run, it’s too far; these stops have prisms I need to charge,” explained Andin as he exited and filled the next prism.

The lift stopped four more times before finally reaching the bottom of the plane. A metal catwalk suspended from the rocky base of Rosewood was all that separated them from the infinite void. The air was thin and the two had trouble breathing. They stood in awe of the scene; neither had ever seen the bottom of a plane before.

Fake looked up in wonder at the enormous floating rock above that was Rosewood Thicket, “Here we are; two tiny beings hanging beneath the mass we call Rosewood – puts things into perspective doesn’t it?” Andin just stared not knowing what to say. The sun gave the plane above them a beautiful halo; they drank in the sight.

Euphoric from the panorama and dizzy from the thin air they begrudgingly returned to work. Andin examined the rack of probes sitting quietly against the shaft of the lift. Andin lifted the probe and opened it. “That’s where they put the origin sample,” said Fake as he knelt against the catwalk.

Andin frowned, “They had a lot of samples from each plane… and not just animals. But meat is meat I suppose.” The prince pricked his finger and let a few drops of blood coat the navigation system. “What else do we need to do before we launch it?” asked Andin.

Fake read the instructions, “Hold on, I’m checking.”

With all the launch prep complete the probe was ready to launch. The prism was charged and the navigation system set. Fake pulled the activating pin and threw the probe over the rail of the catwalk. The small exhaust nodes popped loudly until the probe was pointing straight down. It would have disappeared from sight in seconds if Andin had not placed a burning marker on its shell.

“Fake you got it?” asked the fire prince.

Andin held Fake’s belt as Fake leaned over the rail with his freshly crafted telescope pointed at the probe. “It’s getting dimmer,” said the illusionist.

Andin wasn’t worried, “We’ll have to wait until it arcs back up if you lose it...”

“Gone,” said Fake flatly.

Both Fake and Andin had read and reread the trajectory chart; they made their best guess as to where the probe would resurface. “Bostil would cry,” said Andin.

“The councilman you built your bike with in Beldur?”

“Yes, he had this theory that all the planes are arranged at the edge of a sphere, Shell Theory he called it. If these charts are accurate, and we’ll know if we see the probe again, then his ideas are correct. Bostil had a hard time convincing anyone, including myself, to help with his research.”

“Why not help?” asked Fake.

Andin shrugged, “Just time; if I wasn’t training, studying, or teaching I was on government business for my father or the council. The rest of the scientific community was more or less indifferent. We all thought his logic was sound, and he is a brilliant man no doubt, but there was no obvious value in knowing the exact spatial geometry of the planes.”

“I guess a mile of the void would stop you just as easily as a thousand miles,” rationalized Fake.

“Improving our metallurgy, or researching promising branches of fire magic, and anything else that could improve our defenses from the hostile planes; those always took precedence to quests for knowledge only for the sake of knowledge. Beldurians are a little too practical for that sort of thing; winter made us like that,” lamented Andin.

Fake held Andin’s chronometer and said, “Just a few more minutes now.” Fake admired the craftsmanship of the device, “You know I need to get one of these.” The illusionist gave his friend’s clock back and formed a telescope with his sand.

Andin triple checked the trajectory map, “If this is correct, and if I’m reading it correctly, it should be somewhere in this slice.” Andin waved his arm in the direction the probe should resurface.

“Okay, it should be up now, the marker will only flare once; get ready.” Both of them looked anxiously into the void. For a fraction of a second the flare Andin burned into the probe burst radiantly when the fuse expired.

“I see it!” cheered Fake.

Fake didn’t dare to move the telescope; he frantically motioned Andin to look. “There she goes; rocketing home,” Andin said with a sad smile.

Andin walked to the probe rack and put two of them into the lift. Fake watched as Andin inspected each of the probe’s navigation systems. “Let’s go,” said Andin. His mood remained melancholic the whole ride up. Fake knew how to deal with an angry Andin, but a forlorn one was new territory.

Andin left the probes in the hidden lab. He moved purposefully to the surface where he sat down on the mountainside. Fake waited before joining him. “You okay?” asked the illusionist. Andin watched the horizon and idly turned a stone between his fingers. The prince wore a look of grieving when he answered.

“It’s strange I guess, I wanted that probe to fail. But it worked, and now I have to ask you to help me do something that will make you suffer. I have to ask you to stay with me here and then follow me into Torment. I would go alone if I thought I could do it alone, but I can’t; I’m sorry I’m not strong enough yet.” Andin’s head dropped beneath his knees in shame.

Fake comforted Andin with a light airiness in his voice, “Andin, I knew the second you asked me to bury the Seed shard that we were leaving Pelagos. It was only a matter of time before you figured out a way to get to Garruk. If he has to die then we are the best shot at doing it. Besides, I don’t have anything better to do.”

Andin couldn’t have asked for a better friend, “Thanks Fake; I couldn’t do this without you.”

Fake stood up, “I know; so what now?”

Andin stood and answered, “We need to find a sample of a being from Torment.”

“P.N.A.P. should have one.”

“P.N.A.P.?”

“Pelagic Naval Applied Sciences,” answered Fake.

“Security?”

“The best.”

Chapter Thirty-one – Wet vaults and dry humor

“How much time do we have?”

Fake looked at the chronometer Andin had built for him, “Four hours until the portal closes.” Andin was showered in sparks as he steadily cut through the layered iron and stone of the vault. Fake tapped the glass face of his time keeper, “This thing is really nice.”

Andin stopped cutting, “Okay get ready I’m cutting through the last layer.

The lab’s vaults were flooded and filled with oysters that shrieked when exposed to air. The elaborate series of security doors, checkpoints, and keen eyed guards made entering through the facility impossible without more time. The thieves were already cutting it close as it had taken Andin twice as long as he predicted to tunnel through the uncooperative soil. The prince’s diligence paid off as they now had direct access to the bottom of the vault.

“So there’s seventy tons of water over our heads,” said Fake casually as he tied himself to one of the anchors in the tunnel wall. The last sheet of iron bulged from the weight with its reinforcement cut away. Andin was already tied in.

“We’re about to become very unwelcome in Pelagos,” regretted Andin.

Fake thought about what this meant, “Wait!” he exclaimed.

Andin stopped and growled, “You ruined it! I was going to cut it right after I said that.”

“How long have you been saving that line?”

“For a whole week man,” complained Andin.

“I’m sorry, but if the Brothers forbid us from returning after this…”

“They say Aeros has the most beautiful women of all the civil planes,” said Andin knowing what Fake was getting at.

Fake was relieved, “If anyone asks, I’ll say you cut it right after you said your line.” Fake’s eyes lit up as he suggested, “Or you could say it again and then cut it!”

“Well now I’m glad I didn’t install your anchor properly,” said Andin slyly. Andin’s sickles burned brightly as he thrust them through the bottom of the vault releasing a torrent into the tunnel. Fake missed the spectacle because he was eyeing his anchor suspiciously.

Battered and drenched Fake yelled over the screaming oysters, “It held fine!”

Andin had already climbed into the vault; he poked his head through the hole and shouted back, “Of course it did; but you missed the last cut – and it looked awesome.” Andin began handing jars of samples down to Fake who loaded them onto the sled.

“Next time we do it my way; these sorts of jobs need finesse.”

“Deal,” said Andin as he jumped out of the vault. The oysters were unbearable. The prince looked up at the vault hatch wheel turning. “Time to go,” he said. Fake’s sand pulled the sled as Andin collapsed sections of the tunnel behind them. The tunnel surfaced just beyond the gaze of the watchtower overlooking the facility. The sled slowed Fake down as Andin ran ahead, “See you in a minute, I’m going to warm her up.

Bells rang in alarm from P.N.A.P. as the word spread of the break in. Andin poured as much heat as he dared into the speedboat’s boilers. Fake reached the beached escape craft. The boys loaded the samples into her small cargo hold. “That’s the last of them,” said Fake jumping into the passenger’s seat.

Andin sent a surge of sand behind the craft pushing it into the water. The boat rocked freely in the waves and the propeller tore into the water. “Didn’t you give this to your students?” asked Fake over the rushing wind.

“I left a note, they can pick it up when we’re done,” laughed Andin. It was a two hour ride to Greater Pirenna. Fake offered encouragement as his friend powered their getaway.

The boat limped ashore onto the island. Andin was drenched in sweat and forcing as much air into his lungs as was possible. Fake applauded his effort, “You did well.” Fake kept them as concealed as he could while Andin recovered. “Thirty minutes; we need to go,” said Fake. Andin nodded and struggled to his feet.

The two friends crossed the field towards the portal, cargo in tow. The very last of the bridge crossers had returned from Rosewood and remained at the portal site to watch the spectacle of the closure. On the outskirts of the fortifications they saw Pria and Percaphia asking the portal log keeper if they had seen Fake or Andin.

“No ma’am they left Rosewood two weeks ago and haven’t returned,” answered the business minded man. The girls knew something was amiss and scanned the portal site with care. The sled was now Andin’s responsibility; he levitated it with the stone rods they had installed. Fake had the monumental task of concealing it all.

“Move at my pace; be still near the torchlight,” instructed Fake. The fortifications were constructed around the traveling face of the portal, giving them an easier approach from the rear. The guards made their passage easier being mesmerized by the portal’s energy unfurling spectacularly.

Only a few yards from the portal the boys stopped. “Are you ready?” whispered Fake. In front of the portal with hundreds of eyes watching the concealment would be useless. The last leg would be sprinted in.

“On your mark,” replied Andin.

Fake dropped the illusion and the on looking marines and magi yelled in surprise. Qin yelled first, “Stop them!” It was too late; they were already up the steps. Fake had reached the face of the portal. He was halfway through the doorway before the white wave knocked him and Andin back with ease.

The entire portal site was frozen in disbelief as a stream of thin tentacled creatures flew through the portal into Pelagos. A heartbeat later and chaos exploded as the tiny monsters engulfed the area and began attacking en mass. What their juvenile bodies lacked in strength they made up for in numbers. Each man and woman at the gate was covered. Their ribbonlike tentacles strained in vain trying to tear their prey apart.

Qin shouted, “Fight them back! Destroy these vermin!” Andin and Fake watched in horror as the stream continued from the portal.

Fake yelled, “We have to help!”

Andin shook his head, “The crystal is already on the other side; we cannot falter!”

“Then we stay as long as we can!” argued Fake. Andin saw Perc desperately ripping off the little devils.

“Give me a gap to push the samples through; we’ll fight until she closes!” shouted Andin, knowing Fake was right. Fake obliged and sent a shielding wedge of sand into the corner of the portal, the stream of monsters lessened and Andin forcefully shoved the sled through. The portal buckled, it would close any minute. A magi was dismembered as a pair of demons wriggled their way into his mouth and eyes.

With the sled now in Rosewood the boys regrouped at the base of the portal stairs. Andin sent a burning river of flame into the heart of the stream. Roasted demons rained to the ground. Fake’s sand formed a curved blade as he sliced it through the flood. Pria fought her way towards the portal deftly slicing the beasts with her rapier.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“We have to leave, I’m sorry!” apologized Fake.

“Pelagos needs you!” she cried.

“What we’re about to do could destroy her forever; we can’t risk it!” interjected Andin.

Pria’s eyes widened as the tentacles of one of her attackers began pulling on her mouth and jaw, she bit down on its tendrils and stomped it into the ground. “Is this your doing?” she screamed holding one of the creatures in her hand.

Andin was running out of strength and his fire weakened as he shouted, “No, it wasn’t us! We don’t know what’s happening!”

The portal shrank. The flow of the creatures lessened and Fake grabbed Andin’s arm and pulled him through the closing doorway. A few stragglers attacked them in Rosewood. They dispatched the young demons easily. In the blink of an eye, the portal shut and showered the area with its dying sparks.

**

The two were now cut off from the civilized world. Andin stood and looked at where the portal had been just moments ago, “That’s it, there’s no turning back now,” he said with a hollow voice.

Fake responded ominously, “I’m not sure who is worse off now.”

Andin held the slimy creature in his hand, “Now we know what were in those eggs.”

“I know what they are; they’re Void Demons,” said Fake.

“How can that be?” asked Andin perplexed.

“I don’t know,” answered Fake.

The smell of preserving fluid and alcohol wafted up. Many of the specimen jars had shattered during the crossing. “Wait don’t touch it!” warned Andin. The warning came too late; Fake had already picked up the Divisa segment. Fake howled as its thin needles pierced his hand.

The illusionist held his hand in a tight fist fighting the pain. “Wow; imagine a live one,” he winced in amazement.

“This won’t be easy,” said Andin solemnly. Andin pat the ground beneath where the portal had been, “Where did you bury it?” he asked.

Clutching his hand, Fake tapped a spot with his foot, “Here.”

Andin removed the soil in layers until he found his crystal, now filled with black smoke. “Interesting,” he said as he hung it around his neck. “It worked?” asked Fake.

“Certainly looks like it,” said Andin.

Fake examined the Seed shard for himself.

The portal site was unfamiliarly empty. Andin’s cabin on the hill was the only structure that remained. They salvaged what samples they could and headed up. “How’s your hand?” asked Andin. Fake shook it, “Still stings a bit.” Andin lit the lamps and they went to work.

“I wish there was more,” said a disappointed Andin.

“That’s everything,” explained Fake. “The Academy Archives; the Naval Archives, which wasn’t easy to get by the way; each of the seven major island chain’s Archives; and even the Express’s private collections. For a nine hundred year threat people sure are keen to try to ignore it.” Andin shrugged in agreement, he didn’t understand either.

“We’ll get through all of this in a week,” added the fire prince.

“I’m more worried about the exit strategy,” said Fake.

“I’m open to alternative suggestions.”

“Commission a void ship; sail in, chop him up, sail out,” fantasized Fake.

“Enemy or not the Brothers would never endorse a mission to try to slay an immortal.”

“What about the other gods?” asked Fake now curious.

“I can’t know about the other immortals, but for what it’s worth I’m still surprised at my father’s message about Garruk,” answered Andin. They returned to their studies and tried to steel their hearts. Fake read an account of a group of Sadists who managed to commandeer a vessel and sail to a small group of islands south of Pirenna.

The Sadists overpowered the islanders and fed off their suffering for weeks before they were discovered and slain by the Navy. Not one islander died at the hands of the adept torturers. Not one islander gave any statement or looked into the eyes of another after. Not one islander refused the deadly poison offered by the chieftain after their freedom.

All of the accounts were like this: brief, tragic, and uninformative. Fake and Andin read everything they had twice. They learned little. Two weeks later Andin shut his book and eyed his friend, “Let’s go.”

Fake had been waiting for this, “The longer we’re there the longer we can plan with real information – and find a chance to rebury the Seed shard.”

Neither slept that night.

Chapter Thirty-two – Shadows and suffering

Andin carefully placed the Divisa sample into the probe’s guidance system. He gave it a jolt of energy and the gyro swiveled towards Torment. “I wish I knew how this thing works,” he said in wonder. The Seed shard replaced the prism and the prince set the small device on the ground.

“Do you think it will be one-way like the windows we made?” asked Fake.

“Yeah I think so,” said Andin who motioned to Fake that he should have the honors.

“Oh gee great, I get to open a doorway to a plane dedicated to suffering,” he replied sarcastically.

“And then go through it,” added Andin.

“And then kill a god who cannot be killed,” answered Fake.

“Get on with it.”

Fake unleashed the shard’s energy. The smoke within spiraled out furiously into a disc. The guidance system whirred and vibrated but stayed attached to the forming doorway. Andin stepped forward with Fake. “You know I just realized something,” said Fake.

“What’s that?” asked Andin moving even closer to the portal.

“This is really, really stupid.” Andin would have agreed or made some sort of witty remark if he were still with Fake. But he was no longer next to his friend; his fingertip had lightly touched the surface of their portal. A portal which behaved differently, a portal which behaved like the one that tore Andin from his father. Fake stood in shock when his friend was sucked into the black doorway.

Fake jumped in after him. Their manufactured portal tunneled through space guided by the salvaged navigation system. Fake dove at tremendous speed and then rose again. The next instant Fake was frozen, hovering over a mountain.

Unexpectedly, the illusionist began to float away from the mountain. He saw Andin. “Did it work?” he asked gaining speed.

Andin hurriedly sent a stone slab towards his friend. Fake now realized he was not floating, but falling into the void. The illusionist shifted his sand to pull him upwards. The thin air had them both panting. Andin had cut a small ledge into one of the rocky protrusions.

“Why are we on the bottom of the plane?” wheezed Fake.

“It followed the path I gave it,” said Andin ashamed he hadn’t thought of it.

“Well I don’t see any portal; one way indeed.”

“You can feel its energy though – can you look to see which way we should start climbing?” asked the fire prince.

Fake nodded and shifted his sand into a long periscope. It was difficult for him to keep his creation steady at such a distance. He pointed in a direction, “Looks like the nearest edge is this way.”

Andin led the way; cutting hand and foot holds into the bottom of the plane. Every hour he would carve a ledge for them to rest on. “I already hate this place,” groaned Fake.

Andin nervously smiled as he massaged his tired wrists, “I hate to salt the wound but we might be here for a while.” Fake braced himself for bad news. Andin explained, “When I saw the tunnel was following the same down and up path of the probe I guessed we were going to be arriving beneath Torment.”

He paused before delivering the update, “I wasn’t fast enough to catch the shard; it’s gone.”

Fake shrugged, “We were going to have to wait for a portal to open up there anyway.”

Hour by hour they ascended. The grueling climb was injected with shots of terror when a hold crumbled or a sweaty hand gave way. Where they could safely fly they did one at a time. After days of climbing they stopped just a few yards from the surface. Tucked into their makeshift alcove Andin whispered, “Check it out for us yeah?”

Fake nodded, “Help me up; I won’t be able to conceal myself without you.”

Andin levitated the platform towards the surface. Fake scanned the horizon and signaled to be lowered again. “It’s clear,” said the illusionist. Walking was a joyous task after the endless hours of climbing. They moved slowly under Fake’s shroud. There were no second chances in hostile territory.

They stopped frequently to keep Fake well rested and his spells potent. Andin sketched what he could about the terrain, “We should have brought the cartographer.”

Fake laughed, “You threw that thing away ten minutes into the climb.”

“It was trying to murder me,” groaned Andin. The short break ended and the long walk resumed.

A structure formed in the distance. “Get down,” whispered Fake. Andin said nothing and crouched low. “Listen,” said Fake. The distant murmur was growing into distinct voices. A pack of Sadists marched slaves in the scrubby plain.

“For slaves they look like they’re actually kind of happy,” noted a bewildered Andin. The Sadists stopped the march and the well fed slaves paired up on their own accord. The lead Sadist held up a thick woolen mat and a mechanical dice roller. The slaves looked at him eagerly. He eyed the device and tossed the mat towards a smiling couple. The Sadist pointed away from the road and the slaves scattered in pairs.

Andin and Fake looked at each other baffled. The two invaders tensed as a slave pair looked for a suitable spot near them. “Not too many thorns here,” said the boy.

“Do you think it will be us this time?” asked a nervous girl.

“No, it was us a few days ago; we’ll be fine,” he comforted. The two bedded between the itchy scrubs and began kissing.

Fake enjoyed the voyeurism, Andin did not. Andin tapped Fake on the shoulder, redirecting his vision towards the Sadists. The same tall and gaunt Sadist held up the dice roller again. This time he was smiling, showing his bleeding gums. He rolled the dice and pointed towards the boy’s hiding spot. “Wait,” he said to the other Sadists holding the Divisa cage shut.

His timing was perfect. Two slender Divisas flew through the air clicking and snapping towards their prey. The girl screamed when she realized they had been chosen again. The monsters wrapped up the entwined couple and thrashed them. The needles punctured skin and inject pain magic into their unprotected bodies. They flailed uncontrollably in agony. The attack lasted just moments before the Divisas flew off. The Sadists came to collect their tortured slaves.

“We have to help them,” urged Fake.

“No, we’re here for a different reason,” answered Andin.

“Andin they’re slaves, slaves,” pleaded Fake. Andin stood his ground; he could see no happy ending to an impromptu rescue effort.

The other couples finished their business and returned to their masters. The march turned back towards the distant building. Hidden behind a large boulder Fake dropped his spell to rest. Andin kept a lookout.

“Did it kill them?” asked a worried Fake.

“No, they were both still breathing after the attack,” reassured Andin.

“I’ve never heard screams like that,” added the illusionist.

“Me either.”

They reached the structure by nightfall. The facility was a large tiered pit with the topmost structure housing the Sadists managing the slaves. Andin began digging into a slope covered with prickly shrubs. “We’ll start our recon here,” he said.

“I’m going down there,” said Fake flatly. Fake disappeared before Andin could stop him.

Andin dug angrily at first before relaxing into the work. The fire prince couldn’t deny that he trusted Fake. He couldn’t risk leaving the underground hollow without Fake while the sun was still up; by the time the illusionist returned he had already started a small tunnel towards the nearby slave pit.

“You okay?” asked Fake.

“Yeah – did you find anything?” asked Andin.

“I didn’t want to steal them outright, too suspicious,” said Fake as he recreated copies of an open ledger and a map. “This map doesn’t make much sense to me, but it was just hanging on the wall,” explained Fake. “But this,” he said pointing to the ledger, “Was locked up; I only had time to memorize these few pages.”

Andin read what Fake had memorized. “This map is wrong, look at how far it says we are from the edge. If it was hanging visibly in the office it could be some sort of misinformation for the slaves. These ledgers are incredible. Look here, this annotation says a slave required a tooth pulled last year, and this one a splint for a fracture.”

“The camp must produce healthy adults for the Sadists to torture,” reasoned Andin.

“That’s messed up,” said Fake disgusted.

“Killing Garruk will help these people more than freeing a few slave breeding pits,” said Andin hoping to keep dangerous thoughts from Fake’s mind.

“I know,” sighed the illusionist.

“We’ll stay here for a few days, keep an eye on the slavers, and see if we can learn anything about what lies further inland.” Fake was more practiced in such things than Andin knew, and was eager to keep tabs on the enemy. They worked relentlessly gathering information.

Fake spent his time shadowing the slavers, learning their schedules and habits. Andin spent the days digging and his nights mapping the land. The work kept their minds off of the luxuries Pelagos had offered them so freely. Fake missed the women. Andin missed the coffee.

“Any luck finding a real map?” asked Andin.

“No, the only maps I’ve found are the misinformation ones.”

“These guys are disciplined and cautious,” conceded Andin.

“The pit’s slave quota is a minimum of twenty per year. They export slaves every quarter. I think following the next shipment will be our best opportunity to move further inland safely,” explained Fake.

Andin agreed with his logic, without reliable maps following the Sadists was the only sure option, “When is the next shipment?”

“Three days,” replied Fake. They made their preparations.

Eight healthy young adults chained together outside of the camp. There was a Sadist escorting each one. A thick skinned beast-of-burden carried the caravan’s supplies. Andin and Fake kept a half mile between them and the small convoy. They stopped at night, giving Fake a chance to get closer and Andin a chance to update his hand drawn maps.

The shimmer of Fake’s shroud caught the one of the keen eyes of a Sadist. Fake could tell they were looking in his direction. He slowly backed away and hurried towards Andin. “One of them saw the ripples,” warned Fake.

“Damn,” cursed Andin.

“They don’t talk around the slaves; there isn’t much point trying to listen in on them anyway,” said Fake. Andin saw what Fake was getting at. Secrecy was more important than trying to glean slivers of information. Fake wouldn’t risk them being discovered. They agreed to kill any runners the caravan sent out.

The endless flat plain seemed to stretch on forever. Two weeks passed before the boys spotted another slave caravan. The two groups headed in the same direction. “Where the hell are we going?” asked Fake scanning the horizon with a telescope.

“Long ways off it seems,” answered Andin.

Fake joked pointing at the road with the new caravan, “Hey on the bright side you now get to draw a new line on your map.”

Andin laughed, “Amateur mapmakers live for such thrills.” The march continued in the morning. The caravans resolutely following the arrow straight roads of Torment.

Finally, in the distance there was a floating point hovering in a shadowy sea. The roads led straight to it. The boys guessed it would be another two days before they reached the strange body of water in the distance.

Looking through his telescope Fake nudged Andin, “Andin, it’s not water.”

Andin looked for himself. “It’s a pit, a massive pit,” he said.

Before them was the jewel of Torment, the great city of Anguish. “It’s a city,” said Fake in awe. Her size was incomprehensible, it dominated the horizon.

Chapter Thirty-three – The impenetrable fortress of Anguish

The slaves and their escorts descended into the first terrace of the city. Only the massive tower in the center of the city breached the level of the surrounding plain. Screams and sobs filled the air. Only at this point did the slaves begin to understand their true purpose. Their guard was tripled.

The arrival of the slaves was a great spectacle for the city’s inhabitants. Young Sadists came to feed on the morost: the utter despair the slaves felt as they inexorably realized the truth they feared; that they had been lied to their whole lives and that they had let themselves believe it.

Memories rushed through the slaves like a wind, a lifetime of easy living, of good food, the constant encouragement to copulate, the carefree days, the sports and silly games. The morost was more than the release of the pain of a life of lies; it was the acceptance that they had made the grave mistake of believing the lie, that they hadn’t fought it, they didn’t resist until it was too late.

One by one the crushing realization drove the slaves to their knees to weep, or to desperate attempts to fight their captors. The children cheered when they did. This type of pain was the easiest for them to consume. The young Sadists filled themselves on the sweet suffering. Hungry mothers would then severely batter their satiated children as a treat for themselves.

Fake and Andin watched from the edge of the sunken city in horror. The two hopeful assassins couldn’t have imagined such an awful sight. Worse yet was the realization that this was simply the beginning for the pitiable slaves. There was untold agony in their future.

Both invading warriors knew it would be impossible to help the captives now. They moved away from the lip of the pit to escape the hungry eyes of the enemy. The city was surrounded by earthworks from the original excavation. The scale of it all was incredible.

“We need to get into that city,” stated Andin.

“I’ll find us a place we can work with,” said Fake as he readied himself to enter the city in earnest.

“Fake these degenerates feed off of pain, they might be able to sense it out right so be careful.”

Fake smirked, “Aww mom, you’re such a worrier.”

“Piss off you scoundrel,” laughed Andin. Andin dug, Fake scouted. The prince marked the hidden entrance with a recognizable configuration of rocks so Fake could find the hideaway. Fake was no stranger to subtlety, he moved like a feline in the night. His gifts perfectly suited for the task.

The terraced city gave the illusionist an easy time of using rooftops in lieu of busy roadways. Fake found an old slum with little foot traffic. Fake slithered his way into an abandoned house he thought ideal and waited. Hours later no one had entered his or any of the adjacent structures. The illusionist left the house.

To guide Andin to the slum house Fake needed to get a picture of their wedge of the city for his friend to use as a map. Even the small portion he needed was too complex to study while cloaked. Fake took the risk and exposed himself while painting in his head. Satisfied he had enough detail to guide Andin he returned to his friend.

Fake was greeted with Andin’s two sickles. “Sorry, had a close call when this one fell through the entrance,” apologized Andin pointing to a slain Sadist in the hideout.

“Anyone come searching?” asked Fake nervously.

“Yes, twice, they know he’s missing,” answered Andin.

Fake examined the lanky Sadist. His bleeding gums had crusted into a foul coating over his teeth and lips. “They’re painful just to look at,” groaned Fake.

“I didn’t bury him… I didn’t think he deserved it,” said a hollow Andin. Both were eager to engage in a task besides staring at the hideous man.

“I found us a place, a third of the way down into the city,” said Fake recreating an image of the slum.

Andin oriented himself with the map, “Okay it’s that way,” he pointed. The fire prince began digging towards their new hideout. The work was slow and exhausting. Fake kept Andin’s digging straight and true and acted as lookout. When finally finished, Andin wiped the sweat from his brow and called Fake over, “See if we’re where we should be if you don’t mind.”

Fake tipped a conjured hat respectfully, “Be happy to.” Fake concealed himself once more and slipped through the opening in the rock wall. He popped his head back in a moment later, “This is it, nice work.”

Andin crawled through and gave the abandoned home a look over. “No one comes by here?” asked the prince.

“No, I waited for hours, no one came here or to any of the nearby houses either,” answered Fake. Fake extended his shroud and covered Andin, “Come take a look.” The two invaders walked outside to the lip of the slum. The excavated metropolis was studded with lights. Before Andin could say it was strangely beautiful a shriek of tortured slave changed his mind.

“Surely Garruk must be there,” said Andin pointing to the tower in the center of the city.

“All the defenses point towards it though,” questioned Fake.

Andin smiled, “These guys are clever; that must be the portal entrance. An entire fortress-city built around the portal site. Crossing from the portal this place is impenetrable.”

“Why are you smiling?”

“It wouldn’t be worth a damn if it was easy,” said Andin slyly. They returned to their hideout. “Now the real work starts,” said Andin rubbing his hands together.

“We need to break into Garruk’s tower, get him out of the city, and dispose of him,” recapped Fake.

Andin wrote a shopping list for Fake, “I’ll need these to secure the hideout,” he explained. Fake looked at the list of common items and headed out.

Andin connected the tunnel network to the surrounding houses; any of the abandoned buildings could be used to escape to the tunnels. Fake began his excursions into the city’s marketplaces, stealing what they needed. The days ran by swiftly as the boys drowned themselves in the mission.

After a week of carefully setting up trip wires and pressure plates Andin was confident their hideout was secure enough to leave unattended. Fake had found Andin a set of plain black robes worn by the city’s maintenance workers. It afforded him freedom at night and unquestioned access to the sewers.

Night after night they worked tirelessly. They briefed each other in the early morning upon their return to the hideout. “The sewers past the residential tier are doubly barred with a very strong form of iron. I can cut through them but the sewers are regularly patrolled in the lower levels.”

“The topside defenses are worse,” said Fake. “The market tiers are militarized and the lower tiers have restricted access starting with the eighth level here,” added the illusionist.

“Can you get us past the gates?” asked Andin.

“Not likely; the gates are always closed and the Divisas patrol over the walls. I’m not sure how they could sense me but they always start to twitch and act strangely when I’m close. Besides, I’m having a hard time imagining a scenario where we can take Garruk quietly,” said Fake hinting that there was no way their caper was going to go down discretely.

Andin sighed, the last few weeks had been fruitful, but Fake was right; they would have to reveal themselves to get to Garruk. Andin unrolled the maps they had stolen or drawn themselves. “I haven’t found anything about his tower,” said the fire prince tapping the center of the map. “The city’s maintenance department keeps copies of the layout of the infrastructure in their field offices; there isn’t a single drop of ink about the tower.”

Fake shrugged and added, “I can see that it’s heavily guarded, but I have never seen anyone go in or out at all.” Despite the tremendous unknowns Fake and Andin slept soundly. They had unflinching belief in themselves and their ability to conquer this task. Garruk would die at their hands.

Andin was awoken by one of his alarms. He moved to the corner of the window to get a better view. “What is it?” asked Fake.

“Pressure plate went off in the furthest house,” said Andin. They could see a silhouette moving through the windows.

“A patrol?” asked Fake.

“Could be, looks more like a scavenger,” answered the fire prince.

Fake looked at Andin to see if they were agreed on what needed to be done. Andin nodded and whispered, “If he leaves our block let him live.” Fake shrouded himself and stepped out into the abandoned alleyway. The scavenger took his time going through the house. Andin worried a thorough search could reveal one of the escape tunnels.

The urchin scanned both ends of the alleyway carefully before moving towards the next house. Andin saw Fake’s ripple moving in behind him. Fake’s kill was quick and clean, and with Andin’s help they hid the body in the tunnel network. “Deserving or not let’s bury this one right away, the smell was awful last time,” said Fake humorously.

There were a few slips of paper in the scavenger’s pockets. “K’nar Deinponnan, strange name,” read Fake. “He lives a tier lower and in the northern quarter, long way to go to die,” continued the illusionist.

Andin read his documents as well, “Check the address tomorrow tonight if you have time; see if we should be worried about any curious family members.”

**

The sun set and the boys slinked back into the arms of city. They had a special task tonight. Fake perched himself on the roof of an upper tier slave depot. He kept his fingers in his ears to block the sound of their weeping. Andin moved through the sewers as swift as he dared.

Fake looked at his chronometer. Andin looked at his chronometer. The minute hand crisply jumped to the next engraved mark. The prince emerged from the sewage system. Andin lit the straw in the beasts-of-burden’s stable. The animals panicked. The fire prince retreated swiftly to the sewers and back to the hideout. From the windows he could see the red glow of the blaze.

Fake got to watch the real show. In their desperate attempts to flee the flames the animals burst through the pen’s doors and into the city streets. Soon nearby patrols ran in sounding the alarm. The slaves’ crying turned to confusion and cheering as they saw the fire grow.

The Sadists guarding the slaves silenced them with pain spells. The city’s fire brigade arrived shortly after to put out the flames. Guards were brought from the lower levels to help corral the rampant animals. Fake watched the response carefully, taking note of which groups took orders from who. The city was a tightly operated machine; even their small fire would send enlightening ripples through the system.

The fire was put out and the animals returned and accounted for. Satisfied with the response the lead Sadist left, giving orders to interrogate the slaves and to increase upper tier patrols. Fake followed the leader. Fake’s target went to an unmarked building. The leader reported to another man in full battle regalia. They travelled together down into the next tier.

The two men became three as they passed the report along to another of their superiors. Finally, with five men in tow they reached the entrance to the fortified terrace. The Divisas gathered above them curiously. A Sadist officer spoke to them through the gate. The first man Fake followed spoke the longest to the officer beyond the sealed tier.

The four others reported in as well. A Divisa dove in from above and moved through the men. All feared the creatures; Divisas were creations of Garruk and served him directly. “The Master’s children are on edge tonight,” hissed the gate guard. “Your report has been accepted; there will be an inquiry tomorrow, bring those responsible to this gate,” he added dismissing them.

It didn’t matter which slaves the men pinned the fire on; if their investigation came up short they would be the ones held responsible. “That will not happen,” assured one of the five Sadists. Fake wished to follow them to learn more about how they would investigate the arson, but the officer at the gate was the more promising lead.

The illusionist didn’t dare test the Divisas; he watched as best he could from the upper tier. The officer wrote a short note and held up his arm. A Divisa happily wrapped its body around his arm, piercing the note and sending waves of agony through the officer’s body. The officer collapsed as the Divisa flew up to the topmost terrace of the tower.

Through his telescope Fake watched a seven fingered hand deftly remove the note from the Divisa. “So you are watching,” said Fake. The illusionist could see no more and removed himself from the heavily guarded lower district. Back at the hideout Fake relayed what he saw to Andin.

“A well informed god,” noted Andin.

“The officer said the Divisas serve Garruk directly,” added Fake.

“I can’t imagine Garruk passing up on a fresh slave or two to feed on; there must be a way in underground.”

“Can you tunnel there?”

Andin shook his head, “A short run maybe; but that deep down is solid bedrock. If I started now I might make it before the portal opening, but cutting rock isn’t a subtle activity.” Andin couldn’t shake a strange feeling of urgency surrounding their mission.

Fake saw the look of concern on his friend’s face, “Don’t worry I feel it too, we have to hurry.”

Chapter Thirty-four – This how you use them

Andin awoke next to Fake in a large empty room. Cold, grey marble gave him a chill. To the prince’s horror every effort made to move was fruitless. Fake was still asleep, Andin tried to call to his friend only to find he couldn’t speak either. A familiar voice spoke from behind Andin.

“If Garruk’s portal opens to where you say it will thousands will die. He needs to be stopped.” Andin knew immediately it was his father who spoke from behind them. The prince understood now, he was dreaming. He wished nothing more than to embrace his father, to tell him of all he had accomplished and was going to accomplish.

When Andin awoke he knew waiting for the portal to open in Torment was no longer an option. They had to act as soon as they could. Fake awoke an hour later and saw Andin’s brooding face, “What is it?”

Andin stared at his friend and said, “No more waiting.”

Another month in hurried secrecy passed in Torment. Their preparations finally finished, the boys were beyond restless; there was only one way they saw to get to Garruk’s tower. Andin drew his finger along the sewer map, “Starting at this tier the patrols begin.” Fake watched carefully, they would only get one chance. “The circling legs have platforms we can stand on, but the branches that push further inward are straight pipe.”

Fake interjected, “Hiding two people is going to be nearly impossible with running water.”

“We’ll just have to be quick.”

“If they see us?”

“We can’t take chances on any alarms; once we cross to the seventh tier we kill any who might get in our way,” said Andin resolutely. The prince went on, “This is where we’re going to be improvising,” he traced the blank space where Garruk’s tower sat.

Fake’s sand shifted into disguises of Sadist officers and maintenance workers, “I prefer it.” Fake asked, “How much time are you giving yourself to get into the basement?”

“Half an hour quietly, any more and I’ll rip the foundation out if I have to.”

They continued rehearsing the plan, discussing any and every contingency they could imagine. Fake’s diligent stakeouts provided valuable insight into how the Sadists operated their forces and would likely react to the assassins. “It’s an unbendingly rigid system; I spent a day in one of their children’s ‘schools’ – one day was enough,” said Fake.

“We know how they operate; we can deal with them easily enough. He is the big question mark,” replied Andin.

“There are two of us, we have the element of surprise, the Tormenter will die at our hands,” reassured Fake.

**

Fake and Andin stood unconcealed on the edge of their abandoned slum watching the city’s lights turn on. The preamble was finally over. Tonight they would attempt the impossible; tonight they would kill a god. They bid goodbye to their hideout as Andin lit the fuses, “Let’s go.”

They descended into the sewers. Fake kept a watchful eye on the branches behind them. They reached the first set of iron bars separating the cities tiers. Andin cut a slice from beneath the waterline; he took a breath and swam under through the filth. “Careful, the cuts are sharp,” he warned before Fake followed.

Fortune gave them easy passage through the first patrolled tier. The iron bars were now doubled. Fake eyed the chronometer attentively as Andin steadily cut through the metal. Andin’s work stopped at the sound of Sadists patrolling the lower level. Fake couldn’t conceal them in the sloped branch. The illusionist pulled his friend underwater when the patrol passed.

The patrol moved on and the work resumed. They slid down the descending branch and into the next tier of the city. The iron bars were now tripled. “Andin, cut faster,” urged Fake. Another patrol stopped their progress. There would be no place to hide if a patrol from the lower and upper tier passed them at the same time.

It was an ugly solution but the fire prince had no other choice. He carved a gap in the stone walls of the sewers circumventing the iron bars. “If anyone looks, it will be obvious what we’ve done,” conceded Andin.

“Clock’s ticking,” said Fake. The usurpers slid down to the next tier. The splash alerted a nearby patrol who came running.

“Fake hide us; don’t let them signal the others,” whispered Andin. They stood on the opposite ledges hidden by Fake’s illusion. The Sadists slowed down eyeing the area suspiciously, their metal claws and razor whips at the ready. Another step and they would collide with the hidden warriors.

In a burst of flame Andin drew his sickles and severed his enemies head. Fake’s sand formed a curved blade and hewed his foe in half. The ambush was as violent as it was fleeting.

“Not bad,” said a smug Andin.

“Back to work; we’re close now,” smirked Fake.

The descent beneath the city continued as Andin carved slip-throughs around the protective bars. The prince did his best to fill in the gap but there was no hiding the sewer walls had been tampered with by an earth user. They had reached the second to last tier without too much trouble.

Peering through the iron bars Andin saw what he had feared, “Divisas, and lots of them.”

Fake looked at the flying creatures with hatred, “Burn them.”

“This tier will see the flames,” answered Andin.

Fake made a malevolent face and answered, “Then we’ll need to empty this tier.” Andin had no problems ending the lives of Sadists; the hunt was on.

Surprise was on their side, none of the patrols this deep down expected anything other than the foul odor of the sewers. The warriors moved uncloaked and at a dead sprint cutting down the unprepared enemy with ease. They knew their job was done when they ran past a patrol they had already slain.

“They’re searching,” said Fake watching the now agitated Divisas.

“They sense pain; clean kills or not they know of our handiwork,” replied Andin.

Andin cut a gap in the stone around the metal bars. He slid down the final branch to the lowest level of the sewers. The Divisas swarmed him as soon as he surfaced, but the prince was ready for them and unleashed a cascade of fire from his hands. The nimble Divisas had nowhere to hide in the crowded sewer.

Andin’s flames inundated the sewer. Fake slid down when smoke and steam cleared. Fake examined the inner wall of the sewer, “So the tower basement should be on the other side of this wall.” Andin climbed from the sewage onto the inner ledge. The fire prince began tunneling through the rock wall.

They checked their chronometers and went to work, “Show starts in an hour and ten,” noted Andin.

Fake smiled, “Get us good seats.” Andin began carving through the metal reinforced rock wall. Fake went to the eastern spillway. In twenty minutes the prince with a burning heart had breached the tower’s basement.

“Fake! We’re in!” he shouted.

Moments later the illusionist came running, “All good on my end.” They crossed the threshold into the tower’s basement. A long shaft led away from the tower’s foundation towards the upper militarized tier. Fake pointed to the shaft and the adjacent metal elevator, “Just as we guessed.”

The skeletal elevator was the same hard black metal as the sewer’s iron bars. Fake’s hand drifted inquisitively over its railing. There were no visible controls; “I wonder how it works?” asked the illusionist stepping aboard. Answering his question the elevator shut and began ascending automatically. Fake instinctively cloaked himself.

Andin jumped and grabbed the bottom of the rising lift, “Fake!” he yelled. The fire prince dropped back into the basement as heavy iron doors snapped shut between the basement and the elevator shaft. Andin cursed. The fire prince paced the floor of the basement weighing his options. He’s already cloaked himself; he knows we have to fight Garruk together, thought Andin.

He knew better than to wait for the uncontrollable elevator to return. The prince began cutting as loudly as he dared through the metal ceiling separating the shaft and the basement. Andin cursed himself for allowing them to get separated, it was sloppy and careless.

The elevator reached the upper tier of the tower appearing empty. Garruk stood opposite the hidden Fake. The illusionist didn’t dare move; a single ripple would reveal him to the god of torment. Garruk sniffed the air and spoke with a smooth voice, “I can smell your blood.” The god sent a wave of crippling pain through Fake’s body.

The illusionist went unconscious and his sand dropped from his body into the elevator shaft. Garruk picked up the limp assassin and brought him to his operating room. A knuckle rub on the sternum brought the illusionist back to reality. “What have the fates brought me tonight I wonder?” asked Garruk.

“Such a gift you’ve given me,” he said hovering over Fake’s face. Fake grimaced at the sight of his tormentor. Garruk’s eyes rolled back as he sniffed Fake’s body closely, “You are no stranger to emotional suffering.” Garruk moved precisely and began washing his instruments.

“Best of all,” he spoke while taking notes about Fake’s dimensions. “You share the blood of the gods; I’m surprised someone so valuable was sent on such a fool’s errand. You have no idea why you’re here do you? You think you’re here to kill me, but you aren’t; I’m an immortal, just like you. You are here to steal; you are no more than a petty thief.”

Fake mustered the courage to address his captor, “You’re a monster; you deserve death.”

Garruk roared in anger, “You know nothing of monstrosity! Look at my city; look at what we have accomplished despite our dark need. Look at the majesty I have created in defiance of my curse! You are the monster! Blindly doing as you’re told like a fool, you are greatest threat to this world not me.”

Garruk reined his anger, “In time, you will see as I see.” With a grease pencil the god marked rectangles on Fake’s exposed skin, “Your arrival was timely; I have not fed in a month.” With surgical precision Garruk traced the rectangle with his scalpel. The cuts were neat and clean.

Garruk held up a wide mouthed set of clamps, “These are skinning pliers, and this is how you use them.” The pliers clamped down on the top flap of the cut skin. Fake understood now what was about to happen. With a steady pull Garruk flayed the skin off of Fake’s body. Blood wept from the growing wound.

Fake howled in agony; there was only pain in his mind. He had no friends, he had no mission, he had no desires other than to make the pain stop. Garruk breathed in ecstasy at the illusionists anguish. “Oh you have known little physical pain, such a sweet morsel you are,” he moaned. Garruk had settled from his high and began dressing Fake’s fresh wound.

Garruk brought over a microscope to a small patch of Fake’s exposed flesh. “Such a marvel, already your flesh is repairing itself; in a few hours you’ll be good as new,” he said excitedly. Garruk began cutting the next strip of skin. Fake strained against the iron and leather bonds holding him to the operating table.

“Now, now, it should be obvious to you that your cooperation is compulsory,” said Garruk holding Fake’s ribcage steady while he clamped the skinning pliers on the cut flap of skin. Fear of the coming pain filled Fake’s eyes with tears, his mind shut down, he focused only on escaping the torture. Garruk stripped the skin clean off of the illusionist’s ribcage.

Sick euphoria sent a satisfactory shiver through Garruk’s body. The god of torment placed the skin delicately in a pan with its twin. “What is your name boy?” asked Garruk curiously. Fake didn’t answer. “Perhaps you don’t have one,” speculated Garruk. A Divisa flew up to the terrace with a note pierced by one of its needles.

“You killed many of my men in the sewers,” said Garruk casually. “Worse still, you killed some of my darlings,” the needles on the Divisa’s body flattened as Garruk stroked his pet. “I created them myself. Before I changed them they were pathetic scavengers; now look at them, the most feared weapon in my arsenal.”

“I’m a fair man; you tell me your name and I’ll keep our play date just between us two,” bargained Garruk. The Divisa’s needles pricked up hungrily as it approached the illusionist.

“Fake, my name is Fake,” he gasped as the first needle brushed against his cheek.

“Fake? An appropriate name for a man who can conceal himself,” said Garruk cheerily.

The Divisa left the tower. “Pleasure to meet you Fake, my chosen name is Garruk but in the early days many called me F’it Haunber,” said Garruk as if they were at a dinner party. “I’ve never had the pleasure of feeding off an immortal properly, crossing blades in battle isn’t the same I’m afraid. So for that I thank you for attempting such an impossible task, you must be very courageous.”

“I only have one more question for you Fake,” said Garruk as he examined another instrument. Garruk stopped and looked Fake in the eyes, “How did you get here?” Fake didn’t answer, he couldn’t think straight as he watched Garruk pour molten metal into an injector. Garruk didn’t wait for Fake to speak; he calmly placed the injector into Fake’s ear canal, and sent the metal into Fake’s skull. The pain controlled Fake’s body; he shook violently against his restraints.

The fog of the pain finally cleared and Fake answered weakly, “The sewers.”

“I know that; how did you come to Torment?” repeated Garruk.

“We came through your portal,” lied Fake; the illusionist desperately wished to keep Garruk talking.

“Don’t lie to me boy,” said a curt Garruk. In the distance a red-orange glow began to consume the western quarter. Garruk set his instruments down and stood at the window. The prisms Fake had stolen and Andin had filled with fire magic were now releasing their flames in wild streaks throughout the city. Garruk’s treasured city was ablaze.

Andin screamed in fury as he buried his sickles through Garruk’s shoulder cutting towards his spine. Garruk stumbled and turned sending a wave of debilitating pain at both Fake and Andin. Andin recovered, releasing his friend and handing him a stone jar filled with his sand.

Garruk swung his great sword at the boys. The power of vengeful anger fueled their counter attack. The sword missed, but Garruk launched jets of pain magic at his assassins. “Two immortals sent after me, one the son of Bellos no less! Tell me Beldurian do you know why you’ve come here?” mocked Garruk as he dodged their spells.

Garruk stomped hard into the floor sending waves of magic through it. Fake dodged the spell but Andin was brought down writhing in pain. Fake’s sand finally connected with the injured Garruk bringing the god to the floor. Andin fought through the pain and joined his friend over the floored god of torment.

Without hesitation Andin cut Garruk’s arms off, “That should slow you down.”

Garruk laughed, “What do you intend to do with me fire prince? Does your father know you’re here?”

“He’s the one sent me,” said Andin fiercely.

“Oh I doubt that,” mocked Garruk.

“Andin we need to get moving,” said Fake looking at the fires they had unleashed in the city.

“Listen to your friend, fire prince; carry out the plan like a good little soldier,” Garruk still spoke as if he had the upper hand.

Andin knelt over Garruk grabbing his head, “Is there something you want to tell me before I split your head in half?” Garruk grinned and bit into Andin’s neck sending streams of pain magic into the prince’s body.

Andin convulsed before passing out. Garruk laughed hysterically while feeding off of the misery he had caused. Fake had enough and swiftly dismembered the rest of the tormentor. Fake loaded his unconscious friend and their piecemeal quarry into the elevator. It automatically descended.

Fake loaded and untied the service boat he had taken from the eastern spillway. Periodically the illusionist tried to wake up Andin. Fake kept a watchful eye over the overfull sack stuffed with pieces of his recent torturer. The city’s sewage combined formed a small river heading east through the spillway. The water reclamation facility was outside of the city’s excavation in an isolated underground chamber.

Andin awoke when they reached the underground cistern. The fire prince winced in pain, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come up faster.”

Fake looked at Andin, “We’re not done yet.”

Andin sat up and looked at the hacked up Garruk, “What a bloody mess.”

“He ripped the skin off my body as if he were making tea,” said Fake seethingly.

Andin was still woozy but could walk on his own. “The inner shaft of the tower was lined with metal barbs coated with pain magic,” groaned Andin looking at his bloodied hands.

“You didn’t ride a stone up?” asked Fake curiously.

“I thought you were still hidden; I didn’t want to risk the magic tipping off Garruk.”

A slow trickle of blood oozed from Fake’s burnt ear. A thin metal ladder was their salvation to the surface. After a burdensome climb the boys had reached the surface. A wave of painful energy burst from Garruk’s body knocking them both down. They writhed as the magic chewed through them.

Andin shouted furiously kicking the body bag, “I hate him!”

Fake helped him up, “We’ll finish it together.”

Andin gave an agreeing nod, “To the edge of the plane.” The forces of Torment were still in bedlam from the city-wide inferno. The friends were confident they would not be pursued in earnest until they were well away from the enemy.

Chapter Thirty-five – Dash to the edge of the world

Fake and Andin saved nothing in their run for the edge, stopping only to exchange the bloodied, burdensome bag of Garruk’s body. Even a dismembered Garruk was still a potent foe. The immortal’s body would send waves of agony into the air dropping the boys hard into the dirt and shrubs of Torment.

The pain was just another obstacle to be conquered. They were so close to the end they could taste the sweet success. There was no greater high than that of accomplishing the impossible. Their path took them through the emptiest stretches of Torment, keeping them safe from patrols and slavers.

“Andin,” wheezed Fake.

“Yeah?” gasped Andin back.

“I love running,” lied Fake.

But the endless miles eroded Andin’s victorious euphoria. Garruk’s words ate at the prince, they spread through his mind like a virus. The unshakeable conviction that defined Andin was crumbling. What the hell are we doing this for? Screamed Andin in his mind.

Andin saw his friend resolutely take step after step. Andin saw the most unflinchingly loyal friend he could ask for. Andin saw the only reason to continue running. Do it for Fake.

Twenty miles from the edge the first Divisa arrived wrapping Andin and dropping him into the dirt. Fake’s sand star battered the creature off of his friend. Fake took the body bag from his hazed friend. Fake opened it and recut the arm that had started growing back into Garruk’s torso.

Steadily, the Divisa attacks increased as they converged on their master. Fake bore the load for the rest of the journey as Andin kept a vigilant eye on the skies. In the open the Divisas were masterful tacticians. They would attack in groups from all angles. Fake took up arms when the attacks were too large for the fire prince alone.

They could see the edge of the plane clearly now. Their pace quickened. Fake eyed only the finish line. Andin saw the cloud of Divisas growing behind them. He knew they would attack in one final wave. The fire prince wouldn’t surrender their prize to the enemy. The wave swelled, poised to attack.

“Fake, I’ll catch up with you,” lied Andin.

“But we’re so close,” said Fake confused, turning back to his friend. The Divisas filled the sky. Fake thought the lull in attacks an hour ago was the enemy’s numbers finally thinning. The illusionist was wrong. “Andin no!” shouted Fake as Andin launched Fake towards the edge with a stone platform.

Andin slid through the dirt changing directions. The Divisas dove in to consume their prey. The fire prince would hold them off long enough for Fake to reach the edge and hide himself. Wall after wall of fire incinerated the Divisas. Hundreds fell dead at the prince’s hands. Hundreds more replaced those he dispatched.

Andin strained every fiber in his body to delay his hunters. The fire prince was overwhelmed. One by one, the Divisas wrapped their barbs around the prince engulfing him in unimaginable anguish. The flying monsters ravaged Andin and left his mutilated body in pursuit of his friend.

The diversion worked; Fake was only a hundred yards from the edge of Torment, the infinite void ready to swallow Garruk forever. Fake crashed to a stop and spit on Garruk’s body parts as he threw them over the edge. Fake’s sand shredded through the bag mid-fall for good measure.

The mission was finished but the danger remained. Fake faced his enemy. The Divisas flew past him desperately seeking their master. It was a hopeless endeavor; Garruk’s body had been cut to a thousand pieces by Fake’s final goodbye. The Divisas returned like a flood to punish the illusionist.

Fake stood between them and Andin, sand at the ready. He knew his fate would be the same as Andin’s. The illusionist felt no pain when the first Divisa finally broke through his defenses. Nor when the second and third coiled around his head and neck. There was nothing they could do to him now. He went limp next to his friend.

**

The cloud of Divisas spiraled around the two maimed bodies for hours. The men of Torment had finally arrived at the site of their master’s demise.

The men of Torment watched as the needlepoint of a one-way portal snapped open and then shut, depositing a mysterious man into their midst.

Uncontested by the bewildered Sadists the silent figure grabbed the ankles of both Fake and Andin and began dragging their bodies towards the edge. The Divisas dove in to attack but were repelled by a glass shield. Fake and Andin left a muddy streak of blood in the dirt.

The mysterious man reached the edge of the plane and looked down into the void. The man knelt and marked their bloody faces with a thick green paste. He rolled Fake and Andin’s limp bodies into the consuming nothingness of the void. The man looked back at the army of Sadists once more before casually stepping off of the Plane of Torment.

Epilogue – The Origin Story

In the beginning, Vita and Mortem wandered the void alone. Their lonesome hearts carved the cosmos from nothing. Inevitably, the lost lovers crossed paths.

In their passion they birthed a son, Tempus. Together, the three became the Divine Triumvirate. With painstaking effort, they created a magnificent world of beauty and riches.

The three created the the spark that became the first mortal being. Aeons passed and they watched in awe as life took root and grew into all imaginable shapes and forms. Of their creations, the three admired humans the most, for they on their own discovered the magical sciences and were capable of love.

But the universe seeks balance in all things. Odium manifested in a mockery of the gods’ achievements, the antithesis of the splendor and love of the new world. The dark being prowled the stars filled with wild hatred for all things.

Vita, Mortem, and Tempus revealed themselves to mankind, blessing their achievements. Reflected in the ingenuity and love humans were capable of, the three gods saw their own ultimate purpose in the universe.

Selflessly, the Triumvirate forged the Seed of Creation; the crystal dynamo that could give the power to create worlds to humanity.

Their final task complete, the three rested until mankind was ready to fulfill their destiny and conquer the stars themselves, thus ending the reign of the gods.

Vita, the goddess of life, slept in the heart of the sun. Mortem, the god of death, slept in the heart of the world. Tempus, the god of time, slept within the moon.

As the gods slept, humanity grew bolder and stronger. They tamed the wilds and warred with each other, committing both loving and terrible deeds. Mankind grew greater in its capacity for both good and evil.

On an evil day, Odium found the world. He saw the handiwork of the gods before his eyes. With the Seed he could finally end all that he hated and that which he hated utmost, himself.

Odium descended to the world and corrupted the greatest of the nations. He twisted the blessing of the gods to his own ends. Odium used his influence to corrupt the Seed of Creation. The spirits howled in protest at his defilement, awakening their keeper, Mortem.

Mortem attacked Odium to defend the Seed. Alone, Mortem could not defeat the consuming hatred of Odium. He fled to the moon where Tempus slept. Mortem sent Tempus down to the world to rally the armies of men and assault Odium’s kingdom. Mortem continued on to awaken his bride.

With Tempus on the field of battle the tide turned in the Triumvirate’s favor. Yet, even the mighty armies of the great nations could not breach Odium’s inner sanctum where the dark one worked feverishly to corrupt the Seed.

Finally reunited, the three crushed Odium’s armies and breached his last defenses. Odium had corrupted half of the Seed, giving him unequaled power.

The four gods waged war in the heart of the world. It was soon clear to the three that Odium could not be defeated. The Triumvirate surrounded Odium and sacrificed themselves to destroy the enemy.

As the power of the gods was unleashed within the world, the jewel of the universe shattered. The world was broken.

But the spark of life cannot be extinguished. The souls of all living things clung to the broken slabs of earth, now suspended in the void, surrounding the heart of the world.

With the first gods gone, mankind was reborn as both mortal and immortal on the elemental planes.

Table of Contents

Chapter One – The assassination of Nobleman Eilef

Chapter Two – The well-worn roads of Beldur

Chapter Three – Why we fear the void

Chapter Four – Solstice sessions at the bottomless canyon

Chapter Five – The portal’s imminent reopening

Chapter Six – Tragedy aboard the Greatship Bitter Chain

Chapter Seven – A doorway to death

Chapter Eight – The painter and his canvas

Chapter Nine – Uneasy greetings

Chapter Ten – Return to the void

Chapter Eleven – The long stay in the great ocean.

Chapter Twelve – The Thresher and the Moontide

Chapter Thirteen – Hollis is no friend of mine

Chapter Fourteen – An empty desk

Chapter Fifteen – Men who must be killed

Chapter Sixteen – Salvaged secrets of Pelagos.

Chapter Seventeen – A semester nearly finished.

Chapter Eighteen – Good fishermen

Chapter Nineteen – Raid

Chapter Twenty – The talkative Beldurian.

Chapter Twenty-one – Springtime

Chapter Twenty-two – Pelagic portals

Chapter Twenty-three – Another year another doorway

Chapter Twenty-four – Through the black doorway

Chapter Twenty-five – Swine of unusual size

Chapter Twenty-six – The hive

Chapter Twenty-seven – The calm before the storm

Chapter Twenty-eight – Treetops and nighttime visitors

Chapter Twenty-nine – Brol Under’s inept leftovers

Chapter Thirty – Blood driven compass

Chapter Thirty-one – Wet vaults and dry humor

Chapter Thirty-two – Shadows and suffering

Chapter Thirty-three – The impenetrable fortress of Anguish

Chapter Thirty-four – This how you use them

Chapter Thirty-five – Dash to the edge of the world